#which makes already little sense. but also none of my friends ever had a chinese class

[evil-ontheinside]

When you're hanging out with your friends and then they don't even leave you alone in your dreams

[lifegivesulemonsorwhatevs]

While I sip on my apple tea and eat my apple pie, let me tell you another my opinion of Calebs storyline.

Warning: Spoilers!

First of all, I was always a Caleb stan the moment I saw him and chapter 4 broke me back then. My worry was, how the devs will handle him in the story. It is hard writing a character who is suppose to be dead in MCs eyes.

His introduction was🥵 him in uniform and then using his evol against an assassin had me feel things and then the scene where the fleet landed and him in his sunglasses AHHHHHH!

The interrogation was also hot af! But that’s not my point, I could go on for days talking about how sexy Caleb is lol When they hugged you could actually feel the relief on both sides. Let me say this but MC in this story was better than before in my opinion.

And I know a lot are creep out by his possessiveness but knowing that he also lost his parents as a young child he probably was already traumatised and then MC came into his life, someone who gave him warmth, that little boy wanted to start protecting his sun so bad. In his anecdotes there is a hint that Caleb was already possessive like he is now. He almost lost his life too during his training as an aerospace pilot but the only thing that kept him fighting was the thought of MC. And now after the explosion he took the sacrifice to be an experiment so that MC won’t have to go through that. In his mind it’s better to be alive than letting MC fight on her own.

And that chip??? Every soldier seems to have in the fleet where they basically become cold and emotionless soldiers? Or when that kid was crying for his sister’s death and the chip realised an error? MC in his myth was implementing one into herself (Might be wrong but I think it is heavily implied) and the chip made her go crazy. She thought there is no tomorrow! Maybe that chip also makes Calebs fear even bigger and that’s why he’s like that now. And possessiveness might not be count as a “weak feeling” by the system.

His possessiveness throughout the main story makes more sense now if you keep that in mind. Am I still mad that he drugged us? Edit: A friend of mine told me that the english translation once again sucks ass. In Chinese it was just cold medicine and he just took the chance since MC was already sick to his advantage. Absolutely! But it shows me how easy it is for love turning into possession, the fear he feels makes him do things he normally wouldn’t act out. He wants to protect his sun so bad.

MC however wants to go back in time where everything was still alright. She sees that Caleb is in pain, that someone who had no secrets with her suddenly is not telling her everything. Unlike Zayne, who MC met again as basically “a stranger”, Caleb was constantly in her life and both of them didn’t want to be separated ever. It is understandable that she can’t grasp the “new Caleb” yet.

Both of them yearn for each other so badly and want whats best for the other one but they need to understand that none of them is the same as before. MC is not a child, she knows things about herself which she can’t ignore anymore and Caleb needs to accept that. MC on the other hand needs to accept that after the explosion, Caleb due to circumstances is not the Caleb she knew before.

I was so happy when the start of his myth told us that they found a way to coexist but you could feel that they don’t fully accept it 100%. Yet both of them are ready to die for each other.

And let’s not forget that MC is possessive herself. In his 4* where MC kisses his cheek, the story was about how MC thought he got a love letter and knowing how Caleb never accepted one before, she got curious. She vaguely asked Caleb in 3rd person and he thought she had a crush on someone. Both of them were restless and who tf gets restless not knowing your best friend crush?? UNLESS you yourself are possessive for that person. And the promise they both made at the end? “You promise to not ever get a girlfriend!” That is one cruel promise to make UNLESS again, you are possessive if each other and deep down you know you’ll end up together😂Crazy finds crazy😂

I really like how the devs wrote this story. It is exactly how I thought the vibe would be between those two and I can’t wait for the next story cards and main story.

What is your thought, dear reader?

[weishenmewwx]

Stars of Chaos 杀破狼

Vol 5, pages 153 - 237.

Another ten...

Just in case you can't remember from way back when, A-Yan was the youngest of the previous emperor's sons (youngest brother of the current emperor). He was a friend of Gu Yun's, and he died in childhood.

And, in case you don't already know, and I can't remember if Priest ever actually told us, "Hanshi" is the courtesy name of Jiang Chong.

I think Priest thinks that all of her readers are really smart, 'cuz she keeps assuming that we just Remember or can Infer things.

No one purposefully touches ash. It sometimes falls on the ground, and then we accidentally step on it. (And the Chinese word used here is 踩 = step on.)

白龙鱼服 white dragon fish clothes, as in Chang Geng was out there incognito and none of the commoners around him knew his high status.

此人也不知道是胸怀山川，还是真没心没肺...

胸怀山川 = his chest contains mountains and rivers = very broad-minded and open. "Tolerant of his circumstances" is a good translation; I just like the imagery of mountains and rivers.

没心没肺 = no heart, no lungs = (among other meanings) totally heartless. Immune to emotion.

Probably Working Off Different Versions again! But I like my old pirated online version (-pout-). Here is the pirated online version and my lame translation of it:

长庚当然不是要哭，Of course Chang Geng was not on the verge of tears,

他正强压着心里掺杂着幻觉的杀意，he was currently forcefully suppressing the mixture of killing intent and hallucinations in his heart (he was very very mad at the emperor),

整个人都快炸了。 his entire person was about to explode.

I like the imagery of the sky being soft and whole, like a blanket falling upon you, rather than fragments.

(I really love the imagery of 天塌下来当被子卷 = sky falls down, treat it as a blanket and wrap yourself up in it :)

"还有钟老将军没教过我的"

OK. I am here to share my confusion. The translation is totally true and valid, but I feel (sigh. feelings again.) like this sentence can carry more than one meaning, or maybe should imply something more (in the version I read, anyway).

So: my idea is that Chang Geng is crazy smart and he's giving Gu Yun all sorts of good ideas, so Gu Yun is all "Wow, you learned a lot from old General Zhang," and Chang Geng replies with "And I also have lots of original ideas that did not come from old General Zhong, I am way smarter than anyone you have ever met, you had better listen to me and do what I recommend."

That is my interpretation of those 11 little characters, anyway, which I think makes slightly more sense in this context.

Top: in case you aren't keeping a list of all the characters as they are introduced, Emperor Wu was the emperor two emperors ago, also Gu Yun's mom's dad = Gu Yun's maternal grandfather. He is the one who overthrew the previous dynasty, but he had no surviving male heirs and so gave the throne to the previous emperor, who was the dad of the current emperor. (I got so confused on my first read-through that I started a Character List on my second read-through.）

Bottom: 鸟尽弓藏. From mdbg.net: "lit. the birds are over, the bow is put away (idiom); fig. to get rid of sb once he has served his purpose"

浑水摸鱼。 Mdbg.net again: "to fish in troubled water (idiom); to take advantage of a crisis for personal gain"

Chinese has lots of cool idioms <3

And another ten are done!

My DanMei Literary Adventure Masterpost

Stars of Chaos - All Notes Links

[morizoras-cave]

Weird (Request)

MCU Cast x gn!teen!co-star!reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Request Description: Hello ❤💓could i please request a x teen reader were she has a really quirky and bubbly personality and the cast loves it but she starts getting bullied at school for it and shes acting shy and doesnt talk anymore and there all concerned.⚘💓❤😘

Warnings: bullying, general sadness, insecurity

(A/N): decided to do this request with chris evans, anthony mackie, sebastian stan, scarlett johansson, and elizabeth olsen (as i have previously stated, fitting the entire cast into it is impossible, so i usually have to pick). i hope this doesnt affect the requesters enjoyment of it :)

“I’m considering picking up some lye,” you said bluntly. Everyone that had attended Chris’ I’m-sorry-I-forgot-I-was-hosting-dinner dinner looked up from their Chinese takeout boxes. 

“Like, the chemical lye?” Anthony asked, picking at a piece of chicken with his chopsticks. You hummed and nodded, doing the same. 

“Why?” Sebastian asked.

“I’m considering getting into the soap making business,” you said, “there’s some real money in that market.” 

“Really?” Scarlett said, chuckling along with everyone else at the horrible, scrambling-to-even-be-called-a-dinner dinner. 

“Don’t laugh, guys. You might be seeing my custom soaps in The Body Shop soon,” you joked and once more everyone laughed, shaking their heads. 

“Good luck with that,” Elizabeth said.

“Thank you, I’ll need it, seeing as lye is apparently very fun to eat and also very toxic,” you sipped your coke, bubbles long gone, leaving the sticky and sweet juice behind. 

It was like that every time you were around. You always had something strange you had been pondering about, wether it was soap-making, a career in shipwreck exploration, or investing in a live action Thomas the Train movie. Every single time the cast was with you, they were waiting for the next weird thing to come from your mouth and they were never disappointed. 

You were a lovely, outgoing, yet casually blunt young person, and you were simply wonderful to be around. Like a breath of fresh air each time they were around you. Refreshingly happy. 

And you loved being weird. You loved being yourself, even if you were a bit of an outsider. Not in the sense that you were better than anyone else, you were just slightly different. You always felt there was nothing wrong with that. 

Well, you did. Then things changed. Your schedule working with the movie was lined up, so you had at least two days a week in regular school, often more. You were happy, because it meant you weren’t sacrificing your education to be in a movie. 

Then these girls started bothering you. You could always tell that they didn’t exactly like you, which you actually understood. You always knew that you could easily come off as pretentious and snobby when someone didn’t know you, especially seeing as you were a ‘quirky’ movie star.

But then they started talking to your friends. Which was fine. But then when you tried to speak to your friends, everything changed. Those girls were practically bristling at your presence, your friends included. 

But you didn’t let that bother you. You still had plenty of friends on set, as you considered all of your cast members to be your friends. And they considered you a friend as well. 

But then those girls at school decided that they weren’t done. First, they said things that were very obviously about you, but were disguised as something else. And they’d always make sure you’d hear. 

“I think I’d like to be an actor,” one of the girls had said. They had been sitting on a bench a little bit away from your locker, where you were cramming a physics book in. 

“Oh my god, Lacey, you’re so quirky and weird!” another one had said, and your mood had crumbled, realizing they were making fun of you. You had just closed your locker and left, but you had still heard their giggles at your obviously upset state.

Then they just started blatantly making fun of you, saying you were ugly and untalented, but what hurt you most was when they said you had an annoying, attention-seeking personality. 

You started questioning things about yourself that you never questioned. Were you attention-seeking? Was your personality annoying? Were you even a good actor? 

You would tell your friends, but they didn’t seem to like you anymore, and with your new insecurity about your personality, you even wondered if the cast really liked you, or if they just found you annoying like everyone else. 

So you told no one, and you decided, determined, that you would be less annoying and more quiet. 

“Hey, Y/n! You’re here!” Sebastian exclaimed, as you entered Elizabeth’s rented flat. He was holding a drink in one of his hands and ran to hug you at the door. You hugged back gently. 

“Are you ready for an actually prepared dinner this time?” Elizabeth said slyly, smirking at Chris, who had definitely heard enough about that one time he forgot to plan the dinner.

“Ha ha, very funny, Liz,” he said. You watched them in amusement, holding back multiple snarky comments. 

Sebastian, Elizabeth, and Chris had all turned to you, and it took you a moment to realize they were expecting you to say something. There was an awkward moment where just watched them, before they snapped out of it, coughing and shuffling uncomfortably. 

“Uh, anyway, table’s this way!” Elizabeth guided you all to the large table. Anthony and Scarlett were already there, mid-conversation and bobbing their heads to ‘Anaconda’ played from Elizabeth’s stereo. 

“Y/n’s here!” Scarlett said excitedly and you sat down sheepishly. 

“Yep.”

You watched everyone around the table exchange glances, before all eyes landed back on you. 

“Are you okay?” Chris asked carefully. He was sitting next to you.

“Yeah,” you said quietly, fiddling with your napkin, “just a little stressed about school.” You forced a smile. 

“.. Alright,” Anthony said said reluctantly. There was a moment of silence, because if you weren’t happy, there had to be something seriously wrong with the world. 

“Uh, I think the chicken’s ready,” Elizabeth said, changing the subject. Everyone mumbled in relief. 

The night went on and everyone had conversations and small laughs as they ate, but it was very clear that something was off. Scarlett tried bringing you into the conversations several times, but you immediately clammed up.

It was becoming increasingly clear to the cast, that it was obviously not stress from school (which none of them bought anyway). You noticed the awkwardness too, contemplating if you were being too much of a downer. They would probably have a better time if you didn’t drag them down, you thought. 

“I should go,” you said suddenly, making their heads snap towards you. You forked your untouched chicken. 

“Why?” Sebastian asked, as you stood up and grabbed your jacket. You stilled.

You were conflicted in that moment, wondering wether to confess to them or suck it up and go home. You just didn’t know how to be less of a bother. 

“Don’t lie,” Scarlett said, noticing your conflicted state. You frowned. 

“Am I.. Annoying?” you whispered. There was a moment of silence.

“What?” Chris exclaimed, baffled. You looked up at them. 

“Am I- Am I weird? Because if so, I-I can just go home-” 

There came a choir of whats and nos, and outrage from the table. Everyone spoke over one another for a moment, desperately trying to let you know as clearly as possible.

“Hey!” Anthony’s booming voice shut the rest of the guests up. He looked you in the eyes, “None of us think or have ever thought that you were annoying. And for your information, you’re only weird in a good way. Now, would you mind telling us why you suddenly think this?”

He was calm in a way the public never saw him. Dropping the silliness and handling the situation. It was quiet then.

You felt horribly sad, as you thought about those girls at school. You sighed and blinked away tears. Your cast members’ faces grew even more worried at this. 

“Come on, N/n. Sit down again and let’s talk about this,” Elizabeth said gently, patting your chair. You nodded hesitantly, and sat down. You fiddled with your napkin self-consciously. They waited for you to speak.

“Well.. There are these girls at my school. I don’t know- They just.. Started making fun of me, I guess,” you mumbled, ashamed and avoiding their gazes.

“They said you were annoying?” Chris asked.

You nodded. Sighs could be heard around the table. If you had dared look up, you’d have seen several clenched jaws and fists, displeased faces, and frowns. 

“Have you told anyone?” Sebastian then asked.

You shook your head. You felt someone grasp your hand and looked up to see Sebastian, sitting across from you, holding your hand gently. He smiled sympathetically. 

“First of all, Y/n, you’re not at all annoying. You’re the type of person anyone can love, you’re so refreshing to be around, and you always have something funny to say,” Scarlett begun after a moment of silence. You smiled softly. 

“Secondly, this is something you need to tell the principle, and I don’t want to hear anything about how you don’t want to confront them or anything. You shouldn’t tolerate that,” her voice was tough and determined. You knew she was right, so you nodded. 

There was a moment of silence.

“So.. Have you discovered anything strange you want to share with us?” Anthony asked then. A large, toothy smile enveloped your face, as you remembered that there was, in fact, something you had been excited to share with them. 

“Yeah, so, uhm.. I’ve been playing this game..” 

And with that, everything was back to normal. You entertained them like you always did with your bright and bubbly personality, and you felt confident and happy again. 

It would take you a lot longer than just that night, to fully understand why you were amazing and exactly why you weren’t annoying, but the most important thing was that you were happy and confident right then and there. 

You called the principle, of course, and those girls were expelled. Your friends apologized for their behavior, but you decided not to be friends with them again, not with the way they treated you. You weren’t mean about it, just got some better, more sincere friends. 

Although, you were grateful for friends you had had in that time. Your cast mates started complimenting you more, just slightly here and there. And if any interviewer or fan commented on your personality, the cast would get incredibly protective very fast. 

They knew that your personality was an easy place for people to pick on you, and they just wanted to make sure, that you knew you were a lovely human being. And with how much they reminded you, it got hard to forget. But that’s only a good thing, because you really are a good person :)

___________________________

Tag List:

@hera-the-writer @marvel-madness @40srogcrs @whatthefuckimbisexual @snarky–starky @garbage-potato @lozzypoz321 @allthecreativeonesaretaken @missamericana713 @rororo06 @shady80smusicsingercolor @ireadfanficforfun​ @deephideoutmilkshake​ @rae-is-typing​ @sophs-library​ @herecomesthewriterwitch​

[alltooreid]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

In order to keep Y/N safe from danger, Spencer vows to keep their relationship a complete secret from everyone they know. However, as their romance gets more serious, Y/N and Reid begin to realize that no matter how in love they are, they may have been doomed from the start.

A/N: Back at it with a hopefully very angsty fic! This is of course inspired by the Taylor Swift song, but you don’t need to be familiar with the song to read and enjoy! Also I made a playlist for this one shot, which you can find here (its best if you listen to it in order and of course you don’t have to listen as you read, but if you enjoy that kind of thing, I thought it would be fun). Additionally, in order for the timeline of this fic to make the most sense, I’m choosing to ignore the Lauren Reynolds subplot, because trying to incorporate it and explain it would be distracting and unnecessary in my opinion. Thanks for reading!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Type: Angst

Word Count: 3.9K

Content Warnings: Some cursing, general fighting angst, discussion of pregnancy, brief mention of abortion (follow up is left intentionally ambiguous, based on your own desires and beliefs you are allowed to decide where that aspect goes (pro choice tings))

“I, I loved you in spite of Deep fears that the world would divide us So, baby, can we dance Oh, through an avalanche?”

Spencer Reid hated funerals. 

Somehow he felt he was always invited to one, and no matter how hard it was for him to be there, he always made every effort to go. So when Hotch had to plan Haley’s funeral, Spencer knew he had to go, no matter how much he would hate it.

He looked down to the grass as his supervisor cried over his now dead wife, the most emotion he had seen from him ever. He refused to look up and watch, although there were at least a hundred people there to mourn Haley, this moment felt innately private to Hotch. Spencer didn’t think it was his place for his eyes to intrude. 

So he stared at the lawn and got lost in his own mind.

Right then and there he realized he never wanted to go through what Hotch had to go through. No matter how many philosophers described love in the most beautiful, enchanting way, Spencer didn’t want it anymore. 

He didn’t want to go through a heartbreak, because how worth it could it be?

Of course, all information he had in his repertoire pointed to the claim that it was worth it. Yet he couldn’t pay attention to Oscar Wilde, trying to tell him that “hearts are made to be broken,” or E. A. Bucchianeri screaming that “grief is the price we pay for love.”

All he could see at that moment was the most stone-faced man he had ever known, breaking down in front of everyone he knew over the woman he loved. 

At that moment Spencer Reid vowed to completely give up on love. He would become the best profiler to ever live. People would compare him to Jason Gideon, but Spencer Reid would win every time. Spencer wouldn’t let himself be like Gideon and get so hung up over a person that he couldn’t ever work anymore.

So when Spencer left the funeral and went to bed that night, he was confident that he would sleep alone like that forever. It was comfortable like that and he was happy. Who needs to be in love?

Not Spencer Reid that’s for sure.

Well, until three months later, when Spencer Reid met Y/N Y/L/N. 

She was beautiful, and Spencer knew he wanted to get to know her the first time he laid eyes on her. 

But he was doing such a good job recently…. Even Hotch was impressed with his work ethic. The only one who had talked to him about his lack of emotion was Penelope, she seemed concerned when Spencer told her he didn’t want to meet let alone go on a date with the cute nerdy barista from her go to coffee shop. Spencer refused to reason with her, he was too focused on proving himself to Hotch and the rest of the team. 

Even though in the back of his mind, Spencer knew he had already proven himself to the rest of the team, now he just needed to be good enough for himself.

A truly impossible task.

But he was still trying to do it, so he didn’t talk to the barista at the new coffee shop he was trying.  

He wasn’t expecting her to try and talk to him. Maybe that’s why he was so willing to give up his own reasoning.  

“That’s a lot of sugar, sugar. Are you as sweet as your coffee?” she said, giggling as she did it. She knew the line was cheesy and stupid but she had been eyeing Spencer Reid since he came in and knew she needed to get his attention. Luckily, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Their first date was right then and there. They got distracted and talked till closing, Y/N’s coworkers noticing she was actually putting herself out there and deciding to pick up her slack so she could continue. 

“So are you going to call me Dr. Reid or were you just leading me on for 3 hours?”

“Of course I’ll call you, how else am I going to get you to watch Doctor Who?”

Y/N smiled, “Well I know this is kind of forward, but I have this art exhibit tomorrow, I would love to see you there. But don’t over think that! I’ve invited pretty much everyone I know. I have a bet to win amongst the other art students, whoever has the most people come to see them wins one of those giant Costco sheet cakes. I need that sheet cake Spencer.”

Spencer smiled, “Well, I am from Vegas . . . Maybe I could help push the odds in your favor.”

“Well I can’t wait to see you there. Tomorrow, 6 pm, I’ll text you the details.”

It was only when he laid down to sleep that Spencer remembered his philosophy on love, but strangely, he did not care. 

He may have been trying to freeze his heart, but Y/N was coming in with a blowtorch.

And he didn’t mind. In fact he unlocked the door to let her in.

So when he arrived at work the next morning, he fully intended on going to her art show. He thought about what flowers to bring her. . . was this a date? Was last night a date? Were roses too strong a message? He couldn’t do anything red, it was too forward. Pink? What if she saw it as stereotypical because she’s a woman, maybe she hates pink?! Yellow Tulips were safe, but if he got her yellow tulips then she would think they were just friends and Spencer didn’t want to be just friends.

His internal debate was interrupted by none other than Penelope Garcia, but not to interrupt their paperwork day with a case, but to make an announcement to the bullpen.

“Hello my loves! I have an interesting idea for some team bonding tonight, my favorite barista and dear friend has invited me to her school art show. Of course she needs the most support humanly possible, so you all need to come with me and look at cool art!”

“Who’s this friend of yours Penelope?” JJ asked.

“Oh Jayge you’ve met Y/N! She’s lovely and I’m sure an incredible artist. You guys will all love her!”

Suddenly Spencer remembered Hotch and his broken down faces at Haley’s funeral. He remembered his philosophy on love and his fear of heartbreak.

But he also remembered how alive he felt with Y/N. How the way she laughed like a little kid and how that made him feel giddy. He remembered how she was always so interested in what he had to say. He remembered that he really liked her.

And at that moment, Spencer realized that he did not have to choose between being in love and keeping his heart safe from the devastating heartbreak of seeing his true love die. He realized that the reaper could only find Haley because Hotch let people know they were together Because everyone knew of Hotch’s wife, she was in constant danger.

Maybe if he kept Y/N secret he could still be with her.

“Spencer! Did you hear me?”

“No, um sorry Garcia what did you say?”

“I asked if you were going to come to Y/N’s art show, you know you too would make such a cute couple! You should totally come.”

“I actually can’t, I’m not feeling well.”

She sighed, “That’s what you said last time I tried to get you two together 187 . . . Do you want to talk about anything Spencer? You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“I’m fine, I just have a headache. I don’t want to go out tonight.”

She rested her hand on his shoulder for a second, before following Morgan to the kitchen. Spencer knew she was going to say something to him, but he didn’t care. He had found the perfect solution to his conundrum.

And he knew exactly what flowers to send to Y/N.

Y/N texted him thirteen times, and waited an extra hour after the open house closed in case he showed. So although she went home empty handed, one person away from enough cake to feed fifty, she received a call from Spencer Reid.

“Hey, where were you tonight? I was looking forward to seeing you.”

“I’m sorry Y/N, something came up, but I have something for you! Are you still there?”

“Oh no, I just got to my apartment. I can send you the address.”

“I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

And five minutes later Spencer was at Y/N’s door, with Chinese take out and white peonies, a flower known for its apologetic symbolism.

Y/N blushed, “You didn’t have to bring me flowers Spencer . . .”

“Well I wanted to bring some to your show, but I figured this could be the next best thing . . . And maybe we could eat some of your Costco sheet cake afterwards. Sounds like a balanced meal to me.”

“Although I love that idea, I unfortunately came home tonight sheet cake-less.”

Reid frowned, “How close were you? Would I have made any difference?”

“Oh no!” Y/N lied, “I was way off, don’t even worry about it.” She smiled, “I’m just excited that you're here right now.”

Spencer blushed and looked down at his feet, “Well I’m excited to be here.”

Four months after that night, Y/N asked Spencer a seemingly stupid question while they were eating take out at her apartment. “Spencer, I love takeout and all but we haven’t gone out in public together since the first time we met. . . Call me stupid but I’m starting to wonder if you don’t want to be seen with me.”

Spencer sighed, “Y/N, it’s not that it’s just . . . complicated.”

“I just don’t get it. Am I the second woman or something?”

“No! Absolutely not! You are my one and only flower,” he said, smiling and then leaning in to kiss her nose. She giggled in response, but quickly remembered the serious nature of their conversation. “Y/N, you know what I do for a living.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.”

“Not too long ago, my boss was targeted by a serial killer who made it his mission to make his life miserable. In doing so he killed his wife. I just . . .  I don’t want that to happen to you Y/N. I think I’m falling in love with you, and I can’t put you through that.”

“Spencer . . . I love you too.”

So no matter how badly Y/N wanted to tell her family, or update her Facebook status, she respected Spencer, and although she didn’t completely understand his concerns, she wanted him to be happy.

So she spent ten more months like that, catering to Spencer Reid’s peace of mind. Pretending to smile as he told her stories of all the funny things his team members did, all about their partners, and their love lives.

A couple times now, Y/N asked Spencer if she could meet them, but Spencer always shot it down. When he first mentioned the idea of keeping their relationship a secret, Y/N had secretly hoped it would be one of those things that was forgotten about within a week or two. But no. It had been many, many weeks, and Spencer still didn’t want to be seen in public with her.

And by now that was all she wanted. To go on a real date, to introduce him to her friends, to actually be able to tell her coworkers that something did come from that guy she hit it off with.

Everyday, Y/N felt she did the same exact thing, she went to work, would come home and if Spencer was still in Quantico, she would convince him to come over. (They had been dating for over a year now, and Y/N had never been to his apartment. She didn’t even know where it was). If Spencer did come over, he would usually bring some kind of dessert with him, and they would talk and be merry in their own little secret oasis. A couple weeks ago, Y/N started to get this uncomfortable, uneasy feeling that encompassed her whole body, her whole being. Every part of her was trying to tell her that Spencer Reid was not the man for her. And even though she was still very much in love with him, she agreed.

Although she loved Spencer for the person he was, the man who brought her every different flavor of cheesecake from the bakery across town (one a day for fifty nine days straight), the man who begged her to make him a painting for valentines day instead of buying him a present, the man who cried when she did and laughed when she did and-

There were a lot of things to love about Spencer Reid, but there were a lot of things to hate about their relationship.

She hated the time she bought a gold locket in the shape of a heart, and put a picture of them in it so she could keep him with her all day long, and he made her return it because it could fly open and someone could recognize him. She hated the day she came home with a little beige kitten named Betsy and Spencer made her give Betsy to her sister so that he wouldn’t get cat hair on his clothes and have to answer a million questions. She hated the time Spencer missed her birthday weekend because he had a case and couldn’t give an excuse to why he couldn’t go. She hated that Spencer was her entire life, while she seemed like just an inconvenience to his.

And most of all, she hated that she loved him so much. Because deep down she knew that she could never leave Spencer Reid, but she also knew that there was no way they could last if nothing changed.

Just then Spencer knocked on her door, she had offered him his own key many times, but he declined because he didn’t want anyone to see it on his key ring and ask what it was for. She let him in, and right away his fun perky smile dropped. “You’ve been crying. I can tell.”

“Is that the kind of thing they teach you in FBI school?”

“Yes actually, but that’s not the point,” he said, dropping his bouquet of red chrysanthemums on Y/N’s coffee table and grabbing one of her hands with both of his. “Talk to me Y/N.”

She sighed, “I love you Spencer, but I just don’t know if we can do this anymore.”

“What do you mean flower?”

“Spencer we’ve been together for over a year-”

“One year, two months and five days,” he corrected.

“Yes, yes that. We’ve been together for one year, two months and five days but no one except us knows that.”

“Y/N I thought you were okay with that, I just want you to be safe.”

“I thought I was okay with it but,” she paused, afraid of what she wanted to say, “I’m not Spencer, I don’t want to live like this anymore. I love you, and I want to be with you. To really be with you. What happens if we ever get married, do we have to get eloped, would you even let us get married because you need someone else to watch? When do I get to tell my mom I’m in a relationship? What if you get hurt out in the field, and no one has heard of me, let alone knows to call me, and we never get to say goodbye? How far do you plan on taking this?”

Spencer grew flustered, “Um, I- I don’t know? I didn’t know you were even thinking about those things.”

“Do you think about those things? Things like getting married?”

“You’re the love of my life Y/N, of course I do.”

“Well then something needs to change. We can’t live like this anymore.”

“Things will get better Y/N, I promise you, we’ll start small but I’m going to make this better for you. Actually, um we can start right now,” he started digging through his messenger bag. After a minute, he pulled out a smaller gold heart locket than the one you had originally purchased for yourself. “I, um I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but I feel like now is the best time. I couldn’t find the same one, but it’s the same picture inside.”

She teared up, “I love it. It’s perfect. Here, put it on me.” She turned around and pushed her hair to one side so that Spencer could clasp the delicate chain around her neck.

They kissed, and afterward Spencer spoke, “I hate to ruin this moment, but I’ve had to use the bathroom ever since I got here.”

Y/N laughed, “Ok go, I’ll be waiting.”

While waiting for her love to come back, Y/N admired her flowers. Ever since Spencer began to get her different flowers to symbolize different things she had developed an abnormal botany fascination. She would always beat Spencer to explaining the symbolism of her latest bouquet, so she already knew the red chrysanthemum was a symbol of prosperous, passionate love in most countries. However she also knew that in Italy, chrysanthemums were a death flower, given only at funerals.

Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if some unconscious part of Spencer’s genius brain was beginning to feel the same way she did. Three weeks later nothing much had changed in the state of Y/N and Spencer’s romance. She was still unheard of in the eyes of the BAU and two nights prior Spencer had stopped her from calling her mother to tell her about him.

And then Y/N discovered her sick, uneasy, all over body feeling was not just her incredible intuition.

She was pregnant.

She had taken a couple of tests a while prior and could just now get into the doctor to get it confirmed. But it was official. She was pregnant.

As soon as the nurse confirmed it she broke down crying. And when she asked her a couple more questions, she broke down even further. “Are you currently in a relationship?”

“No,” she sniffed.

“Do you know who the father is?”

“I don’t know,” she sobbed.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know where you want to go from here, but there’s a lot more options that you may think. Everything will be okay.”

Y/N still cried the whole way home.

She spent the rest of the day thinking about how to tell Spencer, and then overthinking what he would say.

She knew Spencer loved children, but he couldn’t even manage to tell people she existed, how was he going to explain a long term relationship and a baby?

It would have taken decades for Y/N to prepare to deliver this news, but Spencer showed up at 8:19 pm.

“Hi flower! How are you today?”

“I’m pregnant.” She blurted out, she was not planning to do it exactly like that, but she panicked.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant Spencer.”

He sighed and ran one of his hands through his hair, “You could get an abortion?”

Y/N lost it. “Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me Spencer?”

“I don’t think a baby is going to be very easy to keep a secret Y/N.”

“Is this how far you’re willing to go Spencer? You want to keep me hidden so bad that you want me to get an abortion? Are you insane?”

“You’re right, Y/N, I’m sorry, we’ll figure something out.”

“No, you’re wrong there Spencer. I’ll figure something out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. I love you but, please just get out of my apartment.”

“Y/N please don’t do this, I love you, we can make this work. I know I haven’t been doing the best job for these three weeks, but just give me a little time and I promise we can do this.”

Y/N wiped tears from her eyes, then reached her thumb up to Spencer’s face, wiping his cheek. “Spencer, it’s not a matter of how much I love you or you love me. Sometimes, things just aren’t made to work out. We gave it a good run, but no matter how hard we love each other, I don’t think either of us is happy.”

“But I don’t know how to live in a world without you in it, flower.”

“I’ve never been in your world Spencer, after tonight, nothing in your life will drastically change. You don’t have to worry about living in a universe without me because you’ve already been doing that for 15 months.”

“Please don’t do this, can we just give it another try?”

Y/N wrapped her arms around him, “That’s all we’ve been doing.”

The couple stayed in silence like that for a couple of minutes before Spencer spoke. “Can we just stay here for one night. I can’t believe I never got to do it.” Spencer had never spent the full night at Y/N’s place because he always worried that he would forget to answer his phone and the team would try to come to his apartment to tell him they had a case.

“You know we can’t do that Spencer,” she sighed, knowing she had to stay strong and act on her own best interest, but she also loved Spencer. “But you can stay here, if you want.”

He thought for a moment. “Okay, um do I need that key you always offered me? To lock up when I leave?”

“No, the front door locks automatically when you close it, you just have to make sure you have everything before you go.”

And so Spencer slept in Y/N’s bed, for the first time, without her in it.

And Y/N called the one person she knew Spencer would never try to track her down to to avoid exposing himself.

Penelope Garcia.

She of course let Y/N stay with her for the night, and although she would eventually, Garcia did not pry when Y/N said she didn’t want to talk about what was going on. So Y/N walked to her apartment with peace of mind, she knew that although she had a lot to think about, for the time being everything was going to be just fine.

On the way to Penelope’s apartment, Y/N saw a flower vendor. She couldn’t help but stop by and pick up a bouquet for Penelope, but more so for the symbolic meaning.

Daffodils and daisies.

The flowers of new beginnings.

“I'd kiss you as the lights went out Swaying as the room burned down I'd hold you as the water rushes in If I could dance with you again”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

holly’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies​ @hercleverboy​

[jamaiskookie]

meet me in your memories (knj)

✂︎ pairing: memory traveller namjoon x gender neutral reader

✂︎ wc: 11.8k

✂︎ TW// car crash, mentions of death, crying, mental health, mental breakdowns, spoilers for frozen 1?? um, vomiting, mentions of PTSD, three seconds of family drama, memory loss

✂︎ notes: a little gift from me for being away so long <3 luv yall also ignore how short and shitty this is!!! ignore it!!!!! 

✂︎ synopsis: namjoon is a memory traveller - he is thrusted back and forth into his world and the world of his memories, forced to re-enact his past experiences. but he doesn’t recognise you, who keeps showing up in his memories. why doesn’t he remember you? why can’t he recall any of these scenes if they’re supposed to be his memories? and why does it always feel like he’s forgetting something? 

he comes to find out that he would choose you over and over again, in whatever lifetime or world he’s in. because he always returns to you. 

✂︎ fic tunes: "eight"- iu (prod. & feat. suga) but you're at your favorite secret spot after a long day by neptjoon

masterlist asks

The road is slippery and Namjoon cranes his head out to look at the window. Rain splattering everywhere, he notes worriedly. He hopes that nobody crashes. The bus driver sitting about three meters in front of him is humming a melody to a song he doesn’t know nor recognise. While listening to the poor man hum the off beat tune, Namjoon sits in silence, wondering how sad it must be to drive a bus with no passengers but himself. 

Suddenly, his stomach drops and his head spins, and this time Namjoon is certain it’s not from the rain or the driver’s subpar driving. He lurches forward, watching as the rain knocks against the window and falls in thick ribbons. 

Click. 

In an instant, Namjoon’s world collapses around him and he is thrown into his mind. 

Seoul is sweltering hot - hot like he’s never felt before. Namjoon reaches up to clutch his head, which is still spinning, and finds himself standing in a pair of light washed baggy jeans and a sleeveless tee shirt, unlike the padding coat and thick boots he had on just a moment ago. 

“Namjoon!” Someone squeals behind him and his heart jumps. He jumps around, facing you and the view of hot street food stalls and tall buildings behind you. Suddenly, his hand is reaching out to grab onto yours and you smile softly. 

He hears his own voice ring out, clear as day: “Don’t run. I was looking for you.” 

“Psh.” You wave off his concern, handing him a shiny golden hotteok. You hold an identical one in your fist, so he accepts it and murmurs his thanks, tearing apart the pancake and stuffing it into his mouth. Sweet, hot honey and small pieces of walnut flood into his mouth, and Namjoon is momentarily surprised. Science states that you cannot taste or physically feel anything in your dreams. 

But Namjoon already proved that wrong long ago. 

He takes you by hand and drags you over to a shelter, for some rest, apparently uninterested in your cries of wanting more tteokbokki or some Chinese food. He flings you over to his side and places his hand over your shoulder, while you both silently devour your hotteoks. 

“This was a nice date.” You mumble tentatively, and oh. That’s what this is? A date? He wants to turn around and ask you for your name. Where are you from? Why am I here again? He wants to scream it out until his lungs hurt and he gets an answer that makes sense, but no matter how much he tries, his throat will not allow those words to tumble out of his lips.  

Why don’t I remember you?

Instead, he replies: “Yeah, it was. This was fun.” He tilts his head down to smile at you and Namjoon finds himself nervous. Nervous enough that his hands are shaking against his will, but he tells himself that the sweat and the nervousness are all side effects of the swampy heat this summer. 

You beam at him and Namjoon thinks you’re an angel. You lean up onto his chest to place a soft kiss onto his lips and Namjoon thinks about when he’s going to be thrown back out of his head. 

“Wanna go home?” He asks, nudging at the sky, which is already filled up with first streaks of the sunset. Purple hues and pinks and blues that all blend together nicely. You watch the sky for a moment.

“Never.” You offer no explanation after that and Namjoon doesn’t pry. He feels like he understands you, which is scarier than any other encounter he’s faced, in real life and in here. You stare up at him more intensely, and a shudder of fear runs down Namjoon’s back. “I just want to stay here forever,” You enunciate, like you want him to remember this. “Just Y/N and Namjoon.” 

Something tugs in his chest and Namjoon screams in his head, no. Longer. Not now. He slips away, gone, disappeared from the world before he can even tell you how pretty your name is. And he awakens back at the bus, where the driver is shaking him and yelling at him to get out. 

Namjoon walks home in the rain, yelling out your name in happiness until his neighbours come over politely asking him to shut the fuck up. 

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N… Y/N?” He keeps repeating the name over and over again, enough to make Seokjin annoyed, who has moved away from Namjoon’s desk to the sofa in his office just to escape the random spiel that Namjoon is hurriedly rushing through. 

“I can’t find a single Y/N in here!” Namjoon cries frustratingly, and the corners of Seokjin’s eyes soften in something that is either pity or empathy. He discards his non-fiction novel about drag queens and wigs to come over and clap a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder. 

“My friend, my crazy, idiotic, slightly insane friend.” Seokjin bends down. “You’ve checked all your yearbooks, social media, archives, newspapers… Have you perhaps considered that this person wasn’t that important? Just a passing stranger?”

“No.” Namjoon shoots down stubbornly. “They appear far too often for them not to be important.” So Seokjin shrugs, leaving Namjoon to, once again, search through the Facebook friends of a friend of a friend of a friend. 

But no Y/N’s pop up, and he’s wondering if Y/N was just a nickname. Was it even your real name? With a sigh and one single (rather impressive) agitated brow wave, he lets go and spills. He tells Seokjin about how he finally learned your name, about the places you’ve been together and how much you adore street food. 

He appreciates Seokjin for being a good friend, for sitting there and not interrupting to call him a crazy person, even if he is most certainly thinking about it in his head. Because Seokjin, at least, knows about a miniscule part of Namjoon’s tragic life. He doesn’t understand, but he gets it, and that’s all Namjoon needs in a friend. 

He doesn’t tell Seokjin about how soft and pillowy your lips feel against his, he doesn’t tell you how much he longs to do unspeakable things to you when you show up in those blue short shorts. He definitely doesn’t tell him how much he loves your name. 

Seokjin suggests a number of things. That perhaps you are a character from long ago, or maybe a passing stranger Namjoon once had a summer fling with. You may be someone long forgotten like a mutual friend in high school or college. He also suggests a psychiatric hospital to screw his head back on (as a joke, Namjoon’s pretty sure.) 

But none of those seem right. Namjoon does his best to explain, he really does. For an award winning journalist and aspiring writer, he does just about a terrible job of trying to string his words together. Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose and falls back onto the sofa, already spacing out. Namjoon weakly cries out that he knows you. He really does - he just doesn’t remember how, or why. 

Like a puzzle with a few missing pieces. 

He wonders when and if the missing pieces will ever make their way over to him. 

Namjoon gives up and flops down onto the sofa next to Jin, who squeaks out various protests about how heavy he is and how stupidly huge his arms have gotten after he started working out, along the lines of comparing him to Jungkook and calling him a gym rat. 

As usual, Namjoon doesn’t listen. 

It’s difficult to explain the feeling of falling to someone who hasn’t experienced it. The cursed Click echoes out and suddenly, the world spins around, the axis breaks and he’s physically thrown into another time, another place… another memory that he can’t seem to recall. His stomach lurches, his head hurts and there’s a small breeze flowing in. 

For a short moment, the loops of space and time are completely open to him. He can’t see it, but he can feel it. It flips his mind completely upside down and boom. He’s in a specific, random time and place. His body feels light, and every step he takes, he can physically feel it: He doesn’t belong here. He isn’t supposed to be here. Everything feels different. Even the air is more smoky, because something in this world is suddenly wrong, and it’s him. 

The next time he meets you, he is in just about the worst place to fall. Sitting in a press conference, his stomach drops and he’s dreading the fall. Namjoon can already hear his boss screaming at him, and he desperately tries to root himself to his seat, typing whatever the assemblyman is yapping on and on about. About farming and agriculture and tax cuts… 

Click. 

He can distantly hear the assemblyman candidate talk about corrupt government workers as he’s thrusted out of his world and into another. 

The memory he has the pleasure to be in this time is something not too unfamiliar. For a second, he thinks if this is just a normal day of him in his cramped, tiny city apartment. Until he turns around and realises you’re lying right next to him, sound asleep and nuzzling into the side of his neck. 

The air is crisp. It’s spring, not winter anymore, and he can hear the flower petals outside his apartment complex falling lightly on the ground. This, Namjoon thinks, may just be the best memory he’s been in. The press conference and his life and his boss slips his mind and he cradles you in his chest, holding you closer and closing his eyes shut. 

“Mm?” You mumble, half asleep. “You’re suffocating me.” You hoarsely call out, and Namjoon releases you with an insincere apology. He brushes the hair out of your hair and grins, framing you in his head. He reaches to his alarm clock, which is right next to his bed as it always is to check the time. 

April 1st, 2017. 

Oh god, Namjoon winces. This means he still has that god awful haircut right now. He reaches up to feel his head, and sure enough, the horrible slicked back bleached hair is still there, an unfortunate result of his friend Hoseok daring him to drunk dye his hair. 

“You’re awake?” He asks you, and you nod slowly. 

He wonders if this memory precedes or follows the one he had with you last time, and he desperately hopes things are going in chronological order. He wants to know you just as much as you know him. Namjoon naively prays to whatever deity that controls his dreamworld: Please follow things step by step, follow the clock. 

You roll around, saying something he can’t really catch. He asks you what you said and for the first time today, you peel open your eyes directly facing him. Namjoon’s heart almost falls out of his ass, seeing your eyes bore into his own. 

“Where’s my morning kiss?” You ask cutely, nudging his nose with your own button nose. 

“Right here.” He finds himself saying, leaning in to close the inches in between your two faces. You taste like hotteok, even early in the morning. You taste like a spring day and a never ending forever. As your lips capture his and his everything is consumed by thoughts of you, Namjoon begs himself to kiss you harder. 

His past self declines politely, and Namjoon thinks about whether this counts as himself being controlled if he himself is still controlling what he says and does. 

In that moment, listening to your slow breathing and someone across the street playing simple, melodic piano chords, Namjoon tells himself: Do not ever forget April 1st, 2017. You rise from the bed and some form of protest bubbles up from Namjoon’s mouth, to which you just laugh and drag him out of bed with the excuse of wanting breakfast. 

You push him into the bathroom, where he expects to meet his sad single grey towel and foggy mirror. You push him in front, and he cringes at the sight of his hair in the mirror. You sigh. 

“Calm down. The blonde looks sexy. You can dye it back black later.” He laughs, because it’s clearly not very sexy. For once, his past self is doing exactly what the current Namjoon is pleading him to do. Does it count as reliving your memories if someone else was living through them originally? But, he reminds himself while you hand him a green toothbrush and squeeze a dollop of toothpaste on both your toothbrushes, this is him. He lived through this once and he is just taking a trip down memory lane. 

The person who lived through this before was him. 

He has to remind himself many more times before it sinks in. 

You brush your teeth next to him, fluffing your hair and squinting in the mirror to wake yourself up. Without a second of hesitation, Namjoon brings the toothbrush up and starts to brush his teeth. Nothing has ever felt more domestic or right than this, despite the tentative steps and heavy lead feeling in his throat telling him he still isn’t supposed to be here. 

You spit out toothpaste in the sink to gargle your mouth and Namjoon mimics you exactly. Somehow, you find yourselves in the kitchen, giggling while making some sort of french toast with an abundance of cinnamon floating through the air. Which makes Namjoon cough and makes you laugh even harder. 

“This is a perfect morning.” You say, peering out the window to watch the city life slowly bustling to life. People scrambling out their doors, ushering their children or pets with them. People you don’t recognise going on walks or runs. Mailmen and delivery people dropping off packages and people yelling into their phones as they hurriedly walk along the sidewalk. 

And you and Namjoon, calmly staying in your pajamas while frying toast on the pan. 

“Is something burning?” You ask, sniffing the air, and Namjoon’s blood runs cold. 

“Oh, shit!” 

You smile and shake your head while Namjoon attempts to save the blackened piece of bread to no avail. He catches sight of the corners of your mouth lifting, even as you chastise him about watching the stove and ranting on about how you’re never going to trust him in the kitchen again. Namjoon watches your pink lips, stained with a brown mudge of cinnamon french toast mixture, which lifts up and your head falls back, hair flowing around your head like a halo. 

Your laugh plays out in front of him in slow motion, and absentmindedly, he thanks that deity he prayed to for slowing this moment down. Because if there’s anything he yearns most to remember, it’s the way you laugh. A chuckle makes its way out of his own throat as well, and he’s not sure who’s in control at the moment. 

Himself or himself in the past?

Either way, they both did the right thing. Namjoon forgets. He forgets the life he has back home, he forgets Seokjin’s warnings, he forgets that he has at least a hundred articles waiting for him at work to be written. He forgets that this world is nothing but a chance for him to follow the footsteps of what he once did, with no control to say or do anything he wishes to do himself. 

But, oh, he really can’t bring himself to care. 

Those piano chords from before blend together beautifully, and you scrape the black toast into the garbage can, still teasing him relentlessly, and oh. Oh, this is what it means to have a home. You made this junk of a house into a home, and he feels like he has to return here. This is where he’s meant to return to, everyday. Each time. 

You turn around after discarding the toast and with a bright smile, you ask him to kiss you again. Namjoon thinks that he doesn’t ever have the capability to deny you when you smile like that, so he complies and crashes his lips onto yours. 

The lead, heavy feeling in his throat is still weighing him down. Except Namjoon isn’t sure whether it’s weighing him down to this world or the real world.

 The cursed deity pulls him back, pulling him through the time and space back to his own responsibilities and life. His heart is wrenched out and he reaches out, trying to grasp your hand for the last time. He falls back to his own world in a hospital bed and an IV attached to his arm with half a piece of french toast dangling in his mouth and another promise he makes with himself to meet you again with a smile on his face. 

Memories… memories that he’s lived through but can’t remember. Memories he slips into to live momentarily through the actions and words of his old self. 

Somewhere along the line of diving back and forth his own life and this past one, he has forgotten which is which. 

“Most likely due to exhaustion. Lack of sleep, lack of rest. It’s quite common with working young adults, workaholics. I’m putting him on medical leave for the rest of the week. He needs a rest - He needed it yesterday. Don’t worry too much, Mrs. Kim. A long nap and a meal or two will fix him right back up.” Namjoon groggily registers the white walls and beeping noises, the chatter of doctors and nurses rushing around. 

He’s in a hospital, and a rush of fear runs straight through his blood. He sits up to eye his mother, sitting next to him and holding his hand. She shushes him, laying him back down on the bed, but all he can do is panic. 

“No, not here. Not here again.” He mumbles incoherently. His mother puts a hand over his eyes, shushing him again and telling him softly to go back to sleep. He doesn’t want to go to sleep, he wants to get out of here. But his eyelids are already feeling heavy and he weakly fights against his body, but before he can even process it, his eyes are shut and he is asleep. 

Seeing her son close his eyes and drift off to sleep, Mrs. Kim turns back to the doctor. 

“I’m not surprised,” She starts. “He’s always worked himself to the bone. But that’s not what I’m worried about. I’m worried about his brain.” The doctor cocks his head and looks through the papers which are clipped to a clipboard in his arms. 

“Ah, yes. I see he was in a car accident a few years ago.” Doctors are some of the most heartless people, and you can always tell how experienced a doctor is by how much sympathy they show. This doctor shows none at all, which must mean he’s been working for a long time. 

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Kim.” The doctor continues, peering over Namjoon’s sleeping body. “I see he suffered light effects after the accident. Selective amnesia, no external damages to the skull. He didn’t suffer as much. In fact, I believe the doctor in charge believed that the amnesia was mostly due to the shock of the event. But he’s received treatment for PTSD since then, right?” 

Mrs. Kim nods. 

“Good. Doctor Park also noted at the time that his amnesia actually didn’t affect much of his memory. He couldn’t remember distant relatives or kindergarten friends, but that seemed to be the extent of his amnesia. Oh,” The doctor slipped through the clipboard. “He also couldn’t remember certain knowledge about philosophers such as Freud, which he was, quote, ‘devastated over’ un-quote.” 

Mrs. Kim stays silent. 

“So, you don’t have to worry too much. Best thing your son could do for his well being is rest. And a therapist if he has a relapse or shows some symptoms such as sleep difficulties or nightmares, or physical signs like fatigue and nausea.” 

Mrs. Kim nods. “Thank you, doctor.”

That’s it, and she turns back to her son, with her hand in his. She stays there, unmoving until he opens his eyes, mumbling incoherent questions and asking his mother why he is in the hospital again, demanding to be discharged immediately. Her heart breaks a little, small cracks form for her beloved son and she kisses him on the forehead, telling him he’d be out of here in no time. 

“What did you see?” She asks quietly, and Namjoon is surprised. She never asks him about his memory walks. It’s taboo to mention it in his household. Not even his sister is comfortable talking about it. “Anything? At all? You passed out at a rather unfortunate time, I heard.” She continues. 

“Nothing much.” Namjoon replies, lying through his teeth and trying to justify it with the sight of your laugh. He leans back and closes his eyes once more, bringing up his memories of you and your bedhead. He tries to fill the gap inside of him with thoughts of you, as if that can make up for the empty feeling that he’s forgetting something. 

In the hospital, staring at a white ceiling and glaring lights, Namjoon is left to think about what’s happening to his head. During the end of his rather short stay, he comes up with a terrifying conclusion. One that scares him more than he could imagine, but it’s the only one that makes sense. He’s falling in love with you. 

He voices out this concern to Seokjin when he visits after his mother leaves. Seokjin stays silent, mumbling out an apology that feels like the wrong thing to say. The elder boy can only look at his friend with sadness in his eyes, telling him that someone as great as Namjoon shouldn’t be suffering so much pain. Namjoon jokes that a witch must have cursed him when he was born. 

None of the two friends laugh. 

This routine continues on and on, without Namjoon dwelling too much on it. Which is so much unlike Namjoon, whose main personality trait is overthinking about the smallest things. He lets the flow of time and space take him wherever they wish to plop him down. He lets the evil deity toy with his heart and wrench him away whenever you smile the largest. 

It hurts right after he is torn away from you, but he’s filled with so much joy in the moment that he can’t bring himself to do anything else about it. Even if he wanted to do something without it, he has no idea where on earth he might start. 

Sometimes he questions the validity of his memories. What is real, what is fake? He still can’t answer, and this is what he spends most of his time wondering about. The memories he has with you don’t make sense. Those are large gaps in his life that he seems to have no recollection of. 

He goes everywhere with you. 

One day he showed up on November 5th, 2015. 

The next day he jumped to August 23rd, 2017. 

Another time, he was thrown into March 15th, 2016. 

None of it makes sense. Are they not memories? He thinks. There’s no possible way he’s spent this much of his life with you and can’t recall any of it. What is real - the world he spends with you, or the world where he always returns to by default?

And yet, nothing else can explain these short periods of blackouts. Ever since one day in some horrible hospital, he’s gone under and pulled and thrusted into some land where he has no control over his own hands. Everything else makes sense. This world, everything else is accurate from the settings to the props, with one anomaly in his memory. 

A character who goes by the name of Y/N. 

He could go the science-y logic route that he so often frequents, come up with theories that can somewhat explain these periods of time. Theories that include explanations such as hallucinations, or that Seokjin’s right and he’s finally gone crazy. You’re just a figment of his imagination, that this is all in his head and he’s out of his mind. 

But he rejects all those theories when he’s clicked into another memory. Somehow, he just understands. These are memories. These are memories he’s had with you, whether that was in a past life or in some sort of messed up alternate timeline where he’s actually happy. 

Is this a gift or another curse from this stupid deity?

He has too many questions. 

He cannot explain these memories using science, logic, common sense, or even using his own words. But in the moment, while you’re in his arms, he can feel it. He can explain it by describing the way you smell, like pancakes and fresh mint. He can explain it by describing the way you feel, like a warm marshmallow filling up his insides and consuming him. 

It’s cheesy, cringier than Seokjin’s dad jokes, but only he gets it. 

Namjoon is in his living room, switching channels on the TV and thinking about this when his stomach sinks again. He braces himself, and disappears. 

Click.

Seoul is freezing cold. The air is light and he is sitting on a bench on his college campus, rubbing his hands together and zipping up his huge jacket over his sweater. Namjoon shudders, his body not yet used to the bite of the cold compared to the warm breeze he was just enjoying. 

He sniffles, nose slightly red like some knockoff Rudolph and wanders around. His body pulls him to go to the right, despite the warm coffee shop being on the left. He shudders again and tries to protest, but his body won’t listen, standing up and walking over to the right with no particular destination in mind. Students are rushing around, complaining about the cold and talking about their next party or study session. 

Namjoon pulls himself forwards, and thank god this version of himself still has terrible tolerance for the cold, because he reaches up and pulls his beanie down over his ears, still wandering around aimlessly. Where are you going? Namjoon wants to scream out frustratingly. 

His brain doesn’t reply and Namjoon sulks. 

Eventually, he is pulled over to another bench, outside in the cold, and he sits down, deeply resenting himself and wondering why on earth he just stood up from one bench to walk to another one. If anything, it’s colder here. He watches the students that pass by for a minute or two, thinking that this is the most boring memory he’s ever been in. 

There is no snow falling, but almost everything on campus is lined with a sheet of ice or cold steam. Namjoon nuzzles deeper into his own clothes, cursing himself for not being able to go buy another sweater or something to fight the extreme cold. 

Suddenly, you appear in front of him and Namjoon perks up. There you are. He thinks. Finally. You come over and sit down, holding something in your hands. He smiles, waiting for you to speak up and greet him with a kiss that will surely warm him up, but you silently sit next to him, ignoring him. Namjoon urges himself to say something, but instead, he continues to watch the students bustling through campus grounds without looking at you. 

Are we fighting? Is Y/N mad at me? 

This is excruciatingly frustrating, Namjoon bites his tongue and thinks. Why can’t he just say something? Abruptly, something lands on his jacket with a splat and he straightens up, snapping his neck towards you, who is looking at the yogurt splat on his jacket with a look of terror. 

“Oh my gosh!” You squeak out, quickly setting your yogurt aside and reaching for some tissues in your purse. “Oh, god, oh god, I’m so sorry. Please, let me-” Namjoon frowns, taking his hands out of his pockets to thumb at his jacket, debating whether he wants to take it off or not. 

You lean over, pawing at his jacket and wiping the yogurt off of his jacket. “I’m so sorry!” 

“No, don’t worry.” Namjoon says, chuckling. He reaches for another tissue, helping you get the yogurt off of him. “It’s no big deal.” The yogurt is mostly wiped off and you side eye him with the unmistakable look of guilt filling your eyes. Namjoon laughs again. 

“It’s fine, really! No, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m literally so sorry. Do you want me to pay for dry cleaning? Laundry? I can, um, wash it for you! I’m not the best at laundry, but it’s the least I could do?” 

Namjoon briefly wonders why you’re being so polite. 

“No, it’s fine.” The words tumble out his mouth again before he can process it. “Really, this jacket is old, anyway.” Not really, Namjoon thinks. It feels really new. “But who the hell eats cold yogurt in this kind of weather?” He jokes. “You sure you’re not a demon?”

You freeze, terrified before realising he was cracking a joke. “Oh. Hah! Yeah, no, I guess I just really like yogurt.” You offer lamely, and you break out into a small giggle. “Yeah, I guess I kind of am a psycho for eating it right now. It’s freezing today.” 

“God, tell me about it.” Namjoon says, stuffing his hands back into his pockets. 

“Thanks for not going bonkers on me. This jacket looks insanely expensive.” 

“Not really.”

“I’m Y/N.” You greet, holding a hand out for him to shake. I know, Namjoon thinks with a secret smile, but everything makes sense now. You don’t know him yet. To you in this moment in time, he’s just a random stranger who didn’t blow up on you after spraying some yogurt onto you. To him, you’re… you’re… 

“Oh, um, I’m Namjoon.” He says, hurriedly taking a hand out of his pocket to shake your outstretched hand. Your fingers meet and Namjoon swears a small zap just went through his hand. 

“Namjoon. Nice to meet you, Namjoon.” You say with a small smile, yogurt already long forgotten on the bench beside you two. 

“It’s nice to meet you too.” He says in return, even though he doesn’t mean it. He already knows you, he knows you better than everyone. He knows your favourite food is Korean street food, and you always wake him up with kisses and your favourite colour is periwinkle and you absolutely hate abalone with more passion than he’s ever seen in his entire life.

But this is your first time seeing him, ever, he reminds himself. This is your meet cute. This single moment set off the events in the next god knows how many years. This is the first time he ever had your name grace his tongue. This is the first time you’ve seen him. 

Another moment to treasure. You let go of his hand, after realising you two have been shaking hands for much longer than the socially acceptable rate of hand shaking. Blushing, either from the cold or humiliation, you sit, turn back around, grabbing a hold of your yogurt once more. 

Suddenly, Namjoon finds himself blurting out: “Hey, you wanna go get some coffee?” You look over curiously, pointing to yourself like you can’t believe he’s asking you out, because you don’t know that you’re all he ever thinks about at any given moment in any given day. “You’ll probably freeze your ass off if you keep eating that yogurt.” He jokes, pretending like this is all because he’s caring about how cold you are and not how cute or incredible or kind you are. 

“Sure.” You say, nodding shyly. He stands up, leading you to walk over to the left where the campus coffee shop is. Along the way, you throw the yogurt cup in the trash. 

“You can’t bring food brought from outside into a shop, right?” You ask. 

Namjoon smiles. “Yeah.” He stays there until night takes over the sky and one single twinkling star in the sky is signalling that it’s time to go home. Possibly the longest time he’s ever spent in a memory. He keeps glancing at the clock, praying that he gets one more minute with you, one more second, one more moment. 

At any time, he could be pulled out of this world, and he needs to make the most of it. You tell him about your childhood bedroom and your major. You tell him about the love you have for pancakes, and how much you want a puppy even though it’s prohibited in the on campus dorms. He nods, pretending like this is all new information even though it’s not, and he’s known all of this for the longest time. He knows you better than you know yourself, which he keeps to himself. 

In return, he tells you about his own childhood bedroom, which was adorned with posters of western hip hop rappers. He tells you about his passions for writing and music, that if he didn’t major in journalism, he’d be studying music production in school. He tells you that he’s obsessed with philosophy, and in all honesty, is a bit of a nerd. 

Instead of laughing or pulling a face, you nod and smile, saying that you think he should tell you more about philosophy on a second date. 

You leave the coffee shop with a small goodbye, and even though he desperately wants to, Namjoon can’t kiss you. 

He gets pulled back after you disappear pass the corner of the street, and the world morphes into a huge motion blur. When he gets pulled back into his living room, the TV is playing late night TV shows already. Namjoon checks the time. He was pulled in for five hours, the longest he’s ever been in that world. 

After that, no matter how much more he prays and begs, he never stays any longer than that. 

Three days later, Namjoon suddenly pops into Hong Kong, which is hotter than anything he’s ever felt. The streets are heavy with people, squabbling in cantonese while selling raw meats in a wet market. The sun is glaringly bright, and Namjoon starts to sweat almost instantaneously. Taxis and huge buses drive past, Namjoon jumps to a side only to find a vast ocean. He’s at the harbour front. 

The smell of food, of egg tarts and pineapple buns and meat dumplings along with other Hong Kong delicacies waft through the air, combined with the salty air of the sea. It makes for a strange combination that confuses his senses but works nonetheless. 

He thought he knew a city like Seoul, but this is a true city. This is busy and fast paced like he’s never even seen before. People shove each other aside to catch the bus, dogs are yapping everywhere and he soaks it all in before the thought enters his head.

What the hell is he doing in Hong Kong?

It’s like every time he wonders aloud, you pop up. “I’ve been looking for you.” You say, echoing the words he said to you that day in the streets of Seoul. 

“I was exploring!“ He says defensively, and you roll your eyes. 

“Come on.” You say, walking along the harbour front. 

“You’re not still mad at me, are you?” Namjoon asks, the words spilling out and surprising himself. Are you mad at him? You’ve never been mad at him before, not in the memories he’s seen. He hasn’t ever seen you fight with him, and immediately, he wants to apologise, fix things before he’s pulled back out and he has to live with the guilt and overthinking of whether you’re still mad at him for the next week. 

“Can’t believe you’re mad at me during our vacation.” Namjoon says, and that’s why he’s in Hong Kong, he realises. He’s on vacation. How strange. Namjoon thinks back to when the last time he took a break from work and the only thing he can think of is when that doctor put him on medical leave not too long ago. Oh no, you’re mad at him on holiday?

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” You retort back, and Namjoon has never heard your voice this curt. “Just sit around pretending like everything's okay?”

“What do you want me to do?” Namjoon replies. “You act like this is my fault!” 

“It is your fault!” You cry out indignantly, and Namjoon knows that, but why? What did he do? What did you do? “Is this even a vacation?”

“Yes!” Namjoon cries out again in response, and you shake your head. 

“You promised, Namjoon.” You say like it’s a warning. 

“Yes, I know,” Namjoon says, even though he doesn’t and really, what on earth did he do? “But this is out of my hands! I can’t just say no, you’re not looking at this from my point of view.”

“You’re not looking at this from my point of view!” You argue back, and Namjoon looks around, realising that this squabble is attracting a small crowd of chinese people, gathering around to watch the free entertainment along the sidewalk of Victoria harbour. He awkwardly laughs, raising his hand and bows, a universal sign of apology, grabbing your hand and walking to the other direction. 

“Come on, I’d rather not have the whole city witness our fight.”

“Oh, so this is a fight now?” 

“What? Yes!” Namjoon says exasperatedly. “How else would you classify this argument?” 

Once he makes it to somewhere with at least a sliver of privacy, he turns around with his brows furrowed and a glare etched on his features. Why do you look so angry? Namjoon chastises himself. Just relax, relax, relax. As usual, his body doesn’t listen. 

“Why are you so mad at this?” Namjoon asks, and feels a flow of relief go down his spine. Finally. 

“It’s not just this instance, Joon. I know work is important, but sometimes it feels like you put literally anything else above me! Like last time? You bailed on our date, like, at least twice. You keep saying you can’t say no, but you can. You have that right, Namjoon.” 

Namjoon’s heart softens a little bit. His workaholic tendencies ended up biting him in the ass after all. Sighing he rubs the back of his neck, eyes glued to the floor. “I’m not prioritising work over you, baby.” He tries to explain, and tries to ignore how his heart sinks when your eyes turn stony at the sound of the pet name he often uses to address you. 

“It’s just important to me as well, okay? It’s not my fault my boss heard I was going to Hong Kong and insisted I come to interview some investors about Hong Kong’s economy.” He explains slowly. “It couldn’t take more than a single day to get everything organised and tidied up.” 

“But-!” You huff angrily, spitting out your words. “You don’t understand! You keep doing this, Namjoon. You keep working, working, working. It’s been this way since college. It’s like you’ll die if you just take a break to come talk to me. I even went over to your office to have lunch with you last week and they told me you were in a meeting.” 

“It was important!” Namjoon insists and he can feel things sinking and getting worse and worse with every word he says. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? You can’t expect me to put you in front of all of my responsibilities. I’m sure you have things you can’t give up for me too.”

Hearing that felt like a slap to the face to both you and Namjoon, and he’s screaming at himself internally, why would you say something so, so, stupid?

“Excuse me?” Your broken voice rings out and Namjoon’s accusatory finger falls. 

“Wait.” He mumbles, fumbling with his hands. “Wait, I didn’t mean that. Wait, I-” 

“Fine!” You yell angrily. “You think nothing’s more important than work? You think I haven’t given up anything for you, Kim Namjoon? Because I’d quit and give up anything for you, you asshole.” You bite out, tears desperately trying not to fall. “You fucking asshole.” You say, before turning back around to weave through the crowd. 

“No, wait, baby!” He calls out, and even he knows that he’s messed up. Messed up big time. That was more hurtful than any cuss word or insult he could’ve ever said. “Kim fucking Namjoon, you idiot.” He mumbles to himself. Seeing you cry is more painful than anything else in the world, Namjoon thinks. He’s not ever going to see that sight again if he can help it. 

He walks forward, trying to find you. Maybe you went back to the hotel, or went to look at the sea to clear your head. He thinks he sees the back of your head for a second, and he reaches forward, clutching at air. He’s about to cry, and Namjoon has never seen himself be more pathetic. 

“Oh no, where are you?” He murmurs to himself like a crazed man. What if you were hurt somewhere? He needs to know you’re safe, he needs to know you’re okay, he needs to make everything better. With each step, the lead feeling in his throat grows heavier and heavier until he feels like it’s sunk to his chest. He wants to kneel down, he wants it to stop hurting, but he can’t. 

He must aimlessly follow his shell to do whatever he is doing now. 

The lead feeling continues to grow, and Namjoon feels like he’s suffocating. He’s not supposed to be here, he reminds himself. But he has to find you first, then he can leave. Then he can go, but where are you? He wants to cry, he wants to breathe. 

Namjoon tells himself to gasp for air, but he cannot. He tells himself if this is the last time he ever sees you, he needs to see you smile. He needs to see you laugh. 

Like the pattern in the rest of his meaningless life, an evil deity always pulls him away from the ones he loves when he needs them most. He feels the lead feeling being lifted and pure panic races to Namjoon’s head. He tries to croak out no. He tries to resist, he shoves people aside and calls out your name. But no one answers him, and the cruel deity laughs at his demise. 

He is too weak, too weak to control himself. 

Namjoon is plucked out of the world and transported back to his bedroom with the threads of time slowly ravelling and tangling themselves around his neck, all while he reaches forward, only to grasp at air and pretend in his head that everything’s alright. 

When he reaches his bedroom and wakes up, he stumbles into the bathroom and vomits, all while longing for the warmth of your lips.

-

Walking around dazedly, Namjoon somehow manages to make his way to Seokjin and Jimin’s apartment, knocking and hoarsely asking them to open, open up please. Because he’s not sure he can hold on to another night alone. Jimin opens the door instantly and catches Namjoon in his arms, frantically calling for Seokjin to come fast. 

They lay him on the couch, hearts slowly breaking and trying to convince themselves their friend will be fine as they watch Namjoon whimper in his sleep. 

Namjoon wakes to the smell of breakfast, of bacon on the stove and Jimin chattering around while watering his plants. He gets up, headache pounding and throat sore. Seokjin wordlessly hands him a few pills and a glass of water, while Jimin plates up breakfast, placing the sausage, eggs and toast separately on the plate because Namjoon can’t stand it when food on his plate touches. 

Silently, the three friends eat. Nobody speaks until Namjoon clears his throat and looks up. 

“Thank you.“ He whispers. 

“What are friends for?” Jimin says. 

Namjoon wonders why he’s got such amazing friends. Jin replies that he was born perfect and God created him like this, so Namjoon shouldn’t dwell too much on it. Jimin and Namjoon both throw a spoon of scrambled eggs in his direction simultaneously, high fiving without missing a beat when Jin lets out a protest of unjust behaviour. 

 As the three friends sit quietly, Namjoon says: “I think I’m going mad.”

“I’m glad you’ve realised.” Seokjin replies offhandedly. 

“I don’t think I can keep going between these worlds. I think it’s making me lose my mind.” 

Jimin stills. Seokjin stops washing the dishes and turns off the faucet. 

“Do… do you know how to stop it?” Jimin asks hesitantly. Namjoon shakes his head, and Seokjin sighs, in deep thought, which is a strange and rare sight to see itself. 

“Well, I guess we’ll have to figure this out together.” Seokjin says casually. Jimin agrees and the faucet comes back on, Seokjin going straight back to washing the pan he used to fry up the scrambled eggs. Jimin unplugs the toaster and Namjoon sits, smiling at his beloved friends. 

“You can borrow some of my shirts.” Jimin calls from the bathroom. “You know, if you want to stay over a couple more nights. Feel free.”

“Make yourself at home and shit.” Seokjin mutters, waving his hand around sarcastically. Namjoon almost bursts out into tears of happiness, but he decides to hold it in until Seokjin doesn’t have access to his phone and won’t put Namjoon’s breakdown on instagram live. 

The next day, the entire gang comes over, all with varying degrees of understanding what the hell is going on with Namjoon. For example, Yoongi pretty much knows as much as Seokjin does, who still doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Taehyung was just told Namjoon’s been feeling down because God knows that boy has a big mouth and definitely can’t keep a secret to save his life. 

Seokjin supplies homemade snacks and burgers fresh off the grill, Yoongi brings over his unlimited Netflix and HBO account passwords he probably stole off of some innocent family member to watch Disney movies, Taehyung comes over with Yeontan clutched to his side because that’s the group's emotional support dog. Jungkook and Hoseok offer up their extensive alcohol collection and bring over some quality wines. Jimin, after a long three hours of consideration, gives up his lucky plushies and fluffy blankets to build a fort. 

For one night, the seven boys crowds around the television, watching everything from The Lorax to Tangled to Frozen and bawling their eyes out when Anna turned to ice (spoiler alert!!!) For one night, the fully grown men all turn back into their 8 year old selves, playing video games and staying up as late as they wanted even though they all had responsibilities to tend to the next day. 

When they all awake from their mega-sleepover the next morning, the remaining six friends all insist they just felt like watching Disney movies and drinking wine suddenly. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that Namjoon’s been feeling a little off in the past few days. 

Absolutely not. 

Namjoon’s eyes brim with tears and he tackles all the boys to the ground in one incredibly coordinated group hug, ignoring Yoongi’s complaints of being anti-social and that his love language is not physical touch. 

“Thanks, guys.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jungkook mutters. “Now could you please get the fuck off?” 

“Never.” Namjoon says, muffled because he says it while his head is buried in Hoseok’s chest. 

“Love you.”

“... Love you too.” 

The next time he falls, Namjoon thinks he’s prepared. Ready, not to get attached, ready to make clear of what belongs in his world and what doesn’t, after lots of pep talks and therapy sessions with Seokjin and Jimin and Yoongi, who is surprisingly helpful with shooting down ideals of toxic masculinity and talking about mental health. 

He’s wrong- he’s not ready, but he doesn’t know that yet. 

Click. 

He’s come to resent that stupid sound. In an instant, he’s dropped into a car, which is strangely familiar. You are next to him, driving, and thank goodness, because everyone knows Namjoon cannot drive. If he were dropped in the driver’s seat, things may have taken a turn for the worse. 

“You want to play some music?” You ask, and Namjoon nods. 

“Yeah sure, turn up the radio.” You reach over to flip a switch and a pretty tune fills the car, echoing and bouncing off the walls of the small vessel. You bring your hand down and interlace it with Namjoon’s, who is suddenly hyper aware of his surroundings. 

“You’re driving, baby.” He says, and a great sense of relief floods back into his system when he sees you smile at the pet name. He hopes this moment is after the Hong Kong trip. He hopes he did the right thing and made up with you afterwards. 

“We always do this. When there’s not many cars around, anyway.” You hum along with the music. “Nobody’s on the road tonight.” Sure enough, there are no cars in sight and Namjoon sighs, curling his hand tight against yours. He looks out the window. 

“No stars tonight, either.” 

You snort. “There are never any stars around the city, babe.”

“Ahh.” He huffs playfully. “Fuck global warming.”

“Fuck capatalism.” You add on, and he nods, wholeheartedly agreeing. 

“I love you.” He murmurs. 

“I love you too.” You reply with a sweet smile and Namjoon just realises that no, he’s not ready to let go of you, because his heart still flips like crazy when he hears you say that. He’s so unbearably, horribly, absolutely in love with you. Not in a creepy or obsessive way like he was probably in love with you a few months ago, but so in love with you. 

He wonders why on earth he’s so drawn to you, but as usual, there’s no definite answers to his questions. Namjoon thinks about how he likes the way you cook pancakes, and how he likes the way you always reach down to pet a puppy no matter where you are or where you need to be. He loves the way you’d give up anything to defend the people you love. He admires your bravery and your courage. He admires the way you present yourself to the world. 

He loves you simply because you are who you are, unapologetically and unashamed, which is something he never had the guts to do. But he gets pretty damn near to being fully and truly himself when he’s around you, so maybe that’s why he’s so in love with you. 

Namjoon feels bad for a moment because he realises his love isn’t selfless or humble like the ones he sees on dramas and TV. His love for you is shamefully selfish, because he needs you more than anything else. He voices this out to you in a long speech while you keep your eyes on the road. 

“I need you more than you think I do, Joon.” You say, while laughing, and Namjoon doesn’t know whether to feel offended or relieved. 

“You think your love for me can trump my love for you?” He asks with his eyebrows raised.

“One hundred percent.” You drawl out, and this time, Namjoon’s offended. 

“Excuse me? Who the fuck?” He asks, sitting up. You laugh bashfully, enamoured but mostly just entertained by your needy boyfriend who is very willing to prove how much more he loves you right now. “I love you way more than you love me!” 

You laugh, your eyes still fixed on the road. “Oh no, please, we’re not arguing about this.”

“Yes we are!” Namjoon demands with a huge smile on his face. “How could you possibly think you love me more than I love you?” Your laugh only grows louder. 

“I don’t even know if you’re being serious or just joking around anymore.” You say through bit back laughter. 

“I’m being dead serious.” Namjoon softens for a bit, laying a hand on your thigh. “You’re my everything. You’re my future, you’re my present, you’re my past.” A part of you wants to tell him he’s being cheesy again, but the romantic in you who doesn’t want to hurt your boyfriend immediately shuts the realist in you up. 

“That was sweet.”

“I try my best.”

You turn your head back to the road and he keeps his eyes on you. On the hoodie you’re wearing, which definitely doesn’t belong to you and he now has a certain inkling of where his missing hoodie went. He likes how it swallows you up. He likes that you have something of his on you. 

Not as a weird mark of possession, but he likes that you’re comfortable with wearing something that essentially brands you as his. But you are his as much as he is yours and wow, Namjoon thinks in his head, is this the real Namjoon or the past Namjoon speaking? And his brain replies that it’s both. 

“I love you.” He repeats, because as much as he seems to say it, he can’t seem to express how much he loves you (hint: it’s a large amount). 

“I love you too.” You say right back. 

He wants to say it more. He wants to say it better. He wants to repeat it until you get annoyed and tell him to shut up, he wants to let you know how much he loves you. But his lips are sealed, and he can’t say another word. Instead of what he wants to say, the words that come out his mouth are, admittedly, just as true. 

“You’re pretty.” 

You giggle. “Did you just realise?” 

Namjoon shakes his head. “You’ve always been pretty. You were pretty on the day we met. You were pretty the day we fought in Hong Kong. You were pretty the first time you stayed over. You’re pretty when you cry, you’re pretty when you… I wanted to think of something that rhymes with cry, but it slipped my mind and now everything’s ruined.” 

You laugh, a real, huge one this time. He can always tell when your laugh is real or not. 

“Thank you.” You say. “For the record, you’ve always been pretty too.” 

Namjoon leans back into his seat. “Damn straight.” 

“When d’you think you first fell in love with me?” You ask, genuinely curious, and Namjoon thinks for a moment. He thinks about what the Namjoon in this moment would say, and he thinks about what the present Namjoon would say. 

If he had verbal control, what would he say? That he fell in love with you during the very first memory he was thrusted in? But that wouldn’t be true, and that wouldn’t be honest. He fell in love with you during the memory of when you met? But that wouldn’t be true either. He fell in love with you in between memories, when all he could think about was the next time you could be in his arms, or how much he longed for your touch. 

He tries to say that, he really does. 

Instead, what comes out of his mouth is: 

“I don’t know. I don’t know if there’s a specific moment. Maybe it was that time we went to the movies and watched Coco while crying over popcorn, or maybe it was that time we went to Disneyland.” Namjoon’s heart slouches, because he doesn’t know any of those moments. He hasn’t been in any of those memories. 

“But I don’t think falling in love is a one moment, time stops kinda thing. I was always falling in love with you. From the time you spilled yogurt on my jacket to right now, where you’re asking me when I fell in love with you. I’m going to be falling in love with you tomorrow and the day after that, until the day where we shrivel up and die from old age.”

Oh, good answer, Namjoon thinks. 

“Good answer.” You say. “I think I’d say the same thing.” 

“Great minds think alike.” Namjoon sighs out. 

Something strikes Namjoon’s heart. It’s not the lead feeling or the heavy weight he’s grown used to. It’s strange, like a wave of deja vu. And suddenly, Namjoon stops thinking. He glances over to the control board to look at the time, which proudly reads: December 3rd, 2018. 

So that’s why he’s always had the feeling that these were memories. Why he was so adamant to believe these things really had happened to him. Even more strangely, what feelings strike him then is not panic, nor fear. It’s a strange flow of calmness that rushes through his veins. He looks over at you again, driving now with both hands on the steering wheel. 

He wonders why the deity would make him witness something as cruel and horrible as this, and he gets the weird feeling that this will be one of his last memories to enter. Namjoon looks at the dark blanket covering the sky and sadly thinks that the deity could have at least placed a few stars in the sky on this night. As consolation, or perhaps an apology. 

Something is ticking in the background, and Namjoon has no idea if it’s coming from the car or if he’s imagining it. Flashing memories go through his mind, so fast he can barely register them as images or moving pictures before they are gone again. Your smile, your laugh, your first date, your second date. The day he asked you to move in, the day you told him ‘I love you’ for the first time and he literally fainted. 

The day he came to pick you up from work for the first time, the night where he first laid his hands on you and kissed all your worries away. 

It comes fast and hurtles towards the two of you, but Namjoon doesn’t even see it coming because all he is looking at is you. Your face, your lips, your eyes, trying to engrave it all in his memory. You yelp out something to him, which he doesn’t hear. Floating images spin around both your heads and a high pitched screech rings out, a spark of orange lighting up like a stack of fireworks. The dark van shoots forward and collides into the driver’s seat. 

The world collapses. It goes sideways, rotates then flips completely upside down, and the dark fog starts to eat up Namjoon’s eyesight. Oddly, nothing hurts. Perhaps because of the shock, or panic, but nothing on Namjoon’s body is in pain. Everything crashes, Namjoon’s head hits the window with force. Something breaks, glass cracks, people scream and he cannot tell which is which. Red and white flashes are all he can see before everything fades to grey and he can only reach around in the darkness, to find your hand. 

He clutches onto your unmoving, still hand desperately, trying to calm his jumping heartbeat. Are those sirens in the background he hears or is that his imagination? Is that your voice he hears or is that a hallucination? 

In the end, his final thought before leaving the world once again is a wish. A wish that he prays the deity will grant him. He hopes that in your final moments, you were not scared. 

He falls. 

When Namjoon arrives home, his entire body is numb. He doesn’t know where he is, nor what he was doing before he was clicked in. He opens his mouth and screams for a full minute without stopping. 

It feels good in a fucked up way. 

Namjoon has never been one for confrontation. Just ask his middle school bullies, who tormented him all they wanted because he wouldn’t do anything but put up with it. Just ask Mingyu from work, who keeps piling his unwanted projects and articles onto Namjoon because he never protests or complains to the higher-ups. 

But while walking towards his childhood home with the birds chirping and his hands placed casually in his pockets, confrontation is all he can think about. He lets himself in the door; his mother never locks it and walks in calmly. 

His mother is sitting on the couch, stitching up a sock which has a hole in it. 

“Mom. I’m home.” He says softly, and his mother greets him normally. Namjoon leans on the wall and his mother stares at him strangely, calling him over to sit and have some fruit. He declines, telling her he won’t be staying very long. “That car crash that happened two years ago.”

The needle in his mother’s hand stills. 

“They said I had selective amnesia, right?” 

The needle picks up speed, stitching faster and faster, his mother’s hand moving faster than light. 

“What did I forget again?” 

“What did you remember?” His mother asks, never one to beat around the bush. 

“Mom.” He says, firmly this time. “What did you do to me.”

The sock is torn apart in his mother’s hands. “Namjoon,” She starts and Namjoon already has a growing urge to shake the truth out of her. “When you got into that crash two years ago, you came out of it with very little injuries. We were all so relieved. When you woke up, you didn’t remember Y/N.” All that fills the air for another moment or two is the spongy sound of silence. 

The gap in this family became clearer than ever to Namjoon. He thinks about how everyone must have been in on the secret, even his sister. And he was left to suffer, wondering why his life seemed so empty after forgetting something he couldn’t clutch onto. 

“And what?” He demands, screaming and throwing his hands out of his pockets. “Do you think you can just keep something like that from me? The love of my life, and you just decide to erase them from my memory?” His mother stills and looks up at her son. 

“You didn’t remember Y/N. You lost contact with all your college friends, and then when I asked the doctor how selective amnesia worked,” His mother cleared her throat. “Sufferers often forget some parts of their memory. Relationships, talents, skills, certain areas or certain people.” His mother looks up directly in his eyes. “Sometimes, especially after going through a traumatic event, people forget certain parts of their memory as a coping mechanism. To erase bits of pain and regret.”

“I thought,” Her voice breaks and her face twists in regret and bad memories. “I thought maybe by forgetting her, I’d be saving you from more pain and hurt. I just wanted you to stop hurting”

Namjoon held eye contact with his mother for three full seconds before collapsing and gasping for air, lying with his head on her lap. All words of scolding, anger. All the confrontational tactics and all the accusations he’d thought of shooting towards her had gone. 

“Hurts.” He let out through large gasps of breaths. “Hurts, mom.” He lied there, with tears threatening to spill out his eyes for the rest of the night, with his mother caressing his hair and apologising to him with tears in her eyes. 

“Miss Y/N. I miss Y/N.” He hiccups out, and his mother wipes away his tears, but it feels different from when you used to do it. 

“I know, I know.” The woman looking down at her son wonders why she put him in so much pain. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.” The night carries on like that, with the lights eventually dimming and the night covers up the light in the sky. The mother son pair repeat their grievances and apologies to each other until the sun comes back up, peeking through the curtains and extending out their warm embrace as if it wants to comfort the hurting humans. 

It doesn’t take long for Seokjin and co to come knocking on his door, sent by his mother who must have filled him in on everything, judging from the looks on their faces. It only takes one single glance at his friends, tilting their heads and all asking to come in for him to burst into tears. Ugly crying, with snot coming out of his nose and eyes bloodshot red from the nightmares. 

Jimin is the first to reach forwards and bring Namjoon into a hug. Soon after that, the six friends surrounded Namjoon, comforting him with the warmth of their arms and soft spoken words of encouragement. 

“You did well.” Someone mumbles into his hair. 

“We’re all proud of you.” Someone else says. 

Namjoon’s sweater sleeves are sopping wet with tears when he asks the boys to help him get into therapy. 

Things went on like that for another while. 

Therapy isn’t as bad as Namjoon had thought it might’ve been. He wasn’t forced to be vulnerable or open up or confront his worst fears. He certainly didn’t want to tell the truth about the world he’s thrusted in, for fear of getting thrown out of the building and into a mental institution. 

Even his mother didn’t believe him the first time he told her about it. She urged him to visit a doctor. How could a therapist who doesn’t even know him believe the nonsense he spouts? Even he himself wouldn’t believe himself if he hadn’t experienced it firsthand. Slowly, but surely, he began to open up, and to his surprise, there was no calling of hospitals or kicking him out. His therapist sat there and listened like everything he was saying was valid. 

He started eating again, mostly because of Seokjin, stuffing his creations down everyone’s throats every two seconds, claiming he needs opinions on his new recipes even though Namjoon’s fairly certain that the past three dishes of spaghetti were the exact same recipe. 

Namjoon started to workout again with Jungkook, much to the younger boy’s surprise and happiness. They talked about their own struggles while panting on the treadmill and spinner. Jungkook eventually tells him that he also has a secret he keeps from the rest of the guys, which is his high school sweetheart who broke his heart so horribly that he still feels hurt from it. 

Jungkook told him to cheer up though, because most of the pain fades away with time. It’s still there, ever as present, but other things will become more important to you and cover up a scar or a wound with blooming flowers. 

“Like us,” He said cheekily. “Your friends.” 

He talked to Yoongi most days of the week about nothing in particular. He enjoys the time with Yoongi because he’s the only one who never walks on eggshells around him. He still pelts him with pillows and roasts the outfits on Rupaul’s Drag Race with him. Taehyung and Jimin even helped him adopt a dog, an furry white Eskimo named Rap Mon which is literally now Namjoon’s entire life. 

Would likely kill all of his friends if one of them hurt his precious baby. 

Life is good, Namjoon learns. He gets better at his job. He never forgets you, but things seem to hurt less. But he gets relapses sometimes. Some days he wakes up screaming about the stupid lead filling up his throat. Sometimes he gets nightmares so intense he has to take medicine.

Therapy isn’t as bad as he painted it out to be, but recovery is ten times harder than he thought it would be. Some days all he can do is lie in bed or do nothing, thinking of you. 

His therapist tells him that his life is more than his past memories. Both Yoongi and Hoseok agree, when he pulled up a random conversation about it late at night. Hoseok says that there’s never going to be a time where he won’t think of you, or still love you. Perhaps not as much as he once did, but he’ll never forget about you. Yoongi tells him he’s healing, and that they’re all proud of him.

Namjoon meets his friends, for the first time in the two years he’s known them. Taehyung has an extraordinary and (slightly strange) obsession over art museums. He’s been to almost every single one in Korea, and he dragged Namjoon over to one an hour away in Gangnam in the summer. Jimin is an amazing dancer, which Namjoon never knew.

Until Jimin brought it up casually, looking through old footage of his dance competitions. “Nothing big,” He said. “I used to dabble.” Namjoon’s eyes bulged out of his head and he told Jimin if that was ‘dabbling’, then he was wasting away his talent. He asked Jimin why he never made a career out of dance, and Jimin replied casually:

“I feel like if I start to make money off of it, and I’ll lose my love for it. Now that I haven’t really has time for it... I dunno. I feel like I’ve lost the talent a little bit.“

Namjoon told his friend that talent is nothing but a bunch of practice and time dedicated to a certain skill. Nobody loses talent, people just get a little unfamiliar with it. Jimin turned around in deep thought and told him he may just have a point. 

Still, some days, he can do nothing but sulk around, feeling like a waste of space. Take today for an example. He walks down the street and out of the corner of his eye, he thinks, and he might be wrong, he thinks he sees you. The back of your head, anyways, but you’re wearing a red sweater with headphones over your ears and you turn around the corner. 

Namjoon panics. He drops his coffee, which splashes all over his leather shoes and runs. He runs past the corner and he doesn’t know what on earth he’s doing but all he can do is run, and the wind dries his tears faster and faster, and he forgets all over again, that you aren’t here, that there’s no way he can go back and see you unless it’s in his memories, which he doesn’t even know how to control. 

Somewhere deep in the depths of his mind, he knows something about this doesn’t seem right. That it couldn’t possibly be you, because he watched you go right in front of his eyes. He knows that in order to heal, he can’t chase after you or center his world around you. He knows all of that. But in that moment, he forgets that he still doesn’t remember everything about you. 

He forgets that you’re dead. 

And one day he’ll be free from this constant spinning. One day he won’t ever have to think twice when he cooks pancakes but that day and all that work he’s put in is the last thing on Namjoon’s mind and all he can think about is if that’s really you. 

He sprints faster and reaches out, misses your wrist by an inch and ends up clutching at nothing but air. He heaves a huge breath, about to clap his hand over your shoulder-

Click. 

tags; @jksbbyfacebunny @extremeobsessions101 @dwcljh @bishuthot @s0seo @stonyiscanon @cecedrake2217​ 

[cupcakemolotov]

Match My Heart to Yours

Okay, since the Exchange reveals have been pushed back until Thursday (for very, very good reasons) I have decided to post a tiny thing to hopefully tide people over. I do sort of intend to write more on this, but I have been stalled for a few months which means I need to change things up. So here is the first bit, hopefully you all like it!

You can also read it here on A03.

Synopsis: Enzo has an plan. Caroline has some serious doubts, because first all, werewolf, hot or not. Alpha, even. A political marriage to a man with his dimples seems like a terrible idea.

                                                            -

Caroline paused, chopsticks hovering over her container of fried rice. Across from her, Enzo looked relaxed, no real tension visible as he reached for another eggroll. “Excuse me?”

“Gorgeous…”

She narrowed her eyes at his placating tone. “I should have known your offer to pick up dinner two towns over was a bribe. You don’t even like Chinese food. You cannot be serious.”

Her witchy best friend would walk through fire for her, but perfect egg rolls an hour after they’d been picked up should have dinged as an obvious bribe. Though this was not nearly big enough. 

“Would I have made the drive if I wasn’t serious?” Enzo asked, sighing when her expression didn’t budge. “You know what I do. What I really do.”

Her gaze dropped to his wrist were a tattoo wound along the bones and tendons, the ink black and red, starkly visible against the olive of his skin. Usually he used the modern advances in makeup to hide what no magic could, because sometimes people were less understanding about this particular quirk of his magic than others. She’d never had a problem with it, but she was human and had no desire for his services. 

Caroline speared a piece of shrimp and narrowed her eyes in warning. “I am very aware of what you do with your magic when you aren’t perfecting fireballs and lightning strikes, Enzo. No need to be rude.”

“Care…”

She chewed carefully, giving herself a moment so she didn’t do something stupid like throw the food at him. The wood floors were brand new. “I’m human. No witchy bloodlines for ten generations or more, and definitely not a werewolf. São Paulo proved that. In spades. So, seriously, there is zero reason for your magic to like me for this.”

A faint grimace. São Paulo had not been a good time. Not for anyone. 

“You know it doesn’t always work like that,” he said patiently, dunking his egg roll repeatedly into the sweet and sour sauce, his expression wry. “Sometimes my magic has a mind of its own.”

She rolled her eyes. “Enzo, tell me something I don’t know.”

A small laugh escaped him. “True.”

“Have I ever done anything, absolutely anything, that would make you think I’d want to have a matchmaker stick their nosy magic in my life?” Caroline set her chopsticks down and started closing containers, her appetite gone. 

A sigh. “No.”

“Damn straight. Isn’t there some kind of ritual involved? Blood magic? The romance novels I read on this subject insisted consent was a factor and blood had to be given willingly, much to the displeasure of several southern mamas.”

He deliberately finished his eggroll, sauce-soggy rice paper and all, chewing methodically. “Normally. This isn’t a… usual situation.”

“Normally?” Sitting back, Caroline waved her hand. “The food buys you an explanation. So start talking.”

Enzo leaned back, chair creaking, and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Look, you’ve been in Europe the last, what? Six months?” 

“Eight, and should I be hurt you weren’t counting?”

He snorted. “You spent the last eight months chasing diamonds. Busy enough you even stopped answering texts in a timely manner, so I imagine you haven’t kept up with what’s been going on.”

“Excuse you? What text did I not respond to?”

“Emoji’s are not words, Caroline.”

Caroline pressed her chin to her palm, gaze narrowed. “Stop being old, Enzo. And let’s be clear. It’s not like I was chasing just any diamonds. These were expensive. The kind of expensive we peons can never actually afford to legally own.”

Enzo rolled his eyes. “I’ve seen your rate sheet. You do just fine.”

She grinned at him. “Thank you, I do very good work. But what does my previous job have to do with the completely ridiculous proposal you brought me?”

“Mason died.”

Caroline arched a brow. “Yeah, I saw. That was impossible to miss. International news, all those TV Pundits talking about who would take over as the US Alpha, blah blah politics. Since he had the bad taste to die outside of a challenge fight, I didn’t have time to worry about it.”

Enzo put the plastic lid back on the sweet and sour sauce, his expression unhappy. “That’s the problem. He did die in a challenge fight.”

“Huh?”

He sighed and pushed his chair back. “This is a bit of a complicated story. As nice as these chairs are, something a little more comfortable might not be adverse.”

“You’re not getting any of the beer in my fridge until I’m sure I’m not kicking you out.” She narrowed her eyes. “The odds are not in your favor.”

“Cruel, but I suppose well deserved.” His chin tipped towards his car, expression amused. “Is now a good time to mention the cheesecake in the trunk of my car?”

“Enzo!”

He laughed and sauntered into her living room, flopping his favorite squishy chair. Caroline picked the couch. She motioned for him to start talking, and he slouched a little further down.

“Look, a lot of this isn’t common knowledge, alright?” Enzo grimaced. “Though it should be and I’m not sure how much longer they are going to manage to keep a lid on how badly the Council screwed this up.”

“Cover up?”

“Among other problems.”

“Mason was their darling.” And, she knew, some factions had whispered, their pawn. She reached up and shoved her bangs back to hide her wince. “Losing a wolf so pro-witch would have been a blow. Losing the top Alpha who was also pro-witch is a political travesty.”

“Political travesty or not, Mason’s dead, and they’re going to have to deal with the new Alpha. He isn’t known for his tolerance.”

“Most werewolves are suspicious of magic,” Caroline pointed out, curling one leg underneath her. “Can’t really blame ‘em, with how they ended up as werewolves. Vengeance, magical curse. That sort of thing tends to sour peoples opinions, and then you know centuries later, they really improved things with their required silver legislation.”

“Yeah, you’re not wrong, but that’s not the kind of tolerance I am talking about.” He leaned back against the chair, and lifted his foot towards the coffee table, pausing, gaze darting towards her narrowed eyes. His foot thumped back against the floor. “The short version is that Mason was challenged, he lost, and the Witch’s Council, for lack of better words, bungled the announcement.”

“How do you bungle an announcement? Challengers have official channels they have to go through and everything.” She pointed at the TV. “They’ve even started wanting to televise the damn things, like it’s some kind of wrestling bout and not a fight to the death.”

Enzo rubbed a hand down his face. “From everything that I’ve been able to tell, Mason just… didn’t expect to lose.”

“That makes no sense. Mason wasn’t young, even by werewolf standards,” Caroline said slowly. “There have been rumors in Europe that he should have been disposed of as much as a century ago. They aren’t really sure why the packs here haven't risen up against him, particularly after the whole issue with his nephew abducting his bride after she’d been paired by the matchmakers to someone else.”

“Tyler Lockwood leads more with his dick than his brains,” Enzo agreed. “And that should have weakened Mason politically, spurring a few challenges. That it didn’t…”

“It’s only been ten years, and that isn’t that long for a werewolf,” Caroline pointed out. “It’s reasonable that the family of the disappointed groom would just now be in a position themselves to pick a fight. Hayley’s family is old blood but not particularly powerful.”

Enzo gave her a dry look. “When do werewolves ever wait to pick fights?”

“When they are going up against the top Alpha in the US and need public opinion behind them. The general public expects a dominance fight or a natural cause of death for all alphas,” she said dryly. 

He nodded in approval. “For someone so disparaging of politics earlier, you do have an excellent grasp of the situation.”

Caroline tossed a cushion at him, which he caught with a grin. “Please, my Mom was the Sheriff and Dad, well, you know Dad. Conspiracy theories and hatred of anything that so much whiffed of the unnatural. But none of that explains what actually happened?”

“We think Mason was using magic to win his challenge fights.”

Her lips parted. “But that’s… the packs would riot. Because something like that…”

“It’s something the Witch Council had to be involved in.”

She inhaled sharply. “That would be a disaster.”

“It is a disaster,” Enzo said bitterly. “There have already been two executions, and several investigations are still pending. We’ve managed to convince the new alpha to hold back the public announcement, but he’s losing patience. We need a solid infrastructure of a plan in place, because humans don’t do well with surprises of this kind, and right now we’re barely holding the alliances together.”

“And what?” Caroline asked exasperated. “The remaining Council has decided to hire a matchmaker? They think since the new Alpha is single, they must be in want of a partner? You’re going to announce the change of leadership, the challenge fight, and then announce he agreed to be matchmade?”

“Something like that.”

“Who is going to trust the Council after something like this?” She shoved her hair away from her face. “If I was the Alpha, I wouldn’t touch anything that they touch with a ten foot pole. That includes matchmaking.”

“I wasn’t hired by the Council, though a couple of my… co-workers have taken those contracts.” He seemed to consider his words and then shrugged. “I was hired by Bekah.”

“Rebekah Mikaelson?” She said, brows arching high. “Why is she involved in this? And I thought you two didn't get along. The last time you were in the same room, she lit your precious robes on fire.”

Enzo’s mouth curved into a slow smile full of male satisfaction. “She’s an odd one, but it’s not the worst way I’ve had someone flirt with me.”

“And the time she declared matchmaking the worst magical school in existence and she hoped you did the world a favor and never reproduced?”

“Charming, isn’t she? I don’t think she really likes children in general.” He looked unbothered. “The bit about my magic was just an attempt to be clever. Her insults have gotten better the more she gets to know me. I appreciate her dedication to getting my attention.”

“Yes, and that is what I am going to put on your gravestone. You finally got the attention you always wanted.” Caroline shook her head. “Insults and spells aside, why did she hire you?”

“Because the Witch Council is right, in a way. It’s going to come out that Mason lost a challenge fight and the witches tried to cover it up.” Enzo reached up and rubbed the back of his neck. “A werewolf who is newly matched has more appeal than a single one, and it’s not a terrible way to divert the press.”

“Is he worried about appeal? Why are you worried about his appeal?” She threw up her hands. “He killed Mason. He is now unequivocally in charge. Why does appeal matter?”

“We need stability.” Enzo’s face went grave. “We can’t afford a year of dominance fights when we’re already struggling with sorting through Mason’s people for traitors. Announcing a match buys us time.”

Caroline froze. “You want the year truce.”

“We need that year, Gorgeous. I’m not sure we’ll survive without it. Pairing off the new alpha? It’s the only way we’re going to get it.”

“And you want me to marry him? Why?”

“Why not you? You’re smart, resourceful, and not bad on the eyes. That you're from a small town will add to your appeal. Small town girl meets werewolf Alpha, and it’s a match. People will love you.”

“I’m a Finder, Enzo. That’s not exactly the most politically correct of jobs.” Her gaze narrowed. “Am I even going to be able to keep working if I agree to this?”

“Once things stabilize, sure, why not?”

“You’re really selling this.”

Enzo shrugged. “You know that one of the true weaknesses of Mason’s was that he refused to find a mate or even attempt a match.”

There had seemingly been a good reason for that. Werewolves were blessed with supernatural strength, a lifespan that more than tripled a normal human’s, and were highly territorial. Most of the time, those instincts could be driven towards their pack and maintaining the careful balance that the world existed in. A werewolf in love was a dangerous creature. Werewolves fighting over their lovers more so.

It was why Enzo’s magic existed. 

“Uh huh,” Caroline drawled, unconvinced. “You're really going to tell an Alpha he can’t claim what’s his unless he agrees to a match, the very thing the last alpha decried as unnecessary. How’s that going? I bet not well.”

“The sooner you say yes, the better, then.”

She glowered at him, but he looked unrepentant.

“Seriously Enzo, matchmaking magic or not, this cannot be your best plan. I cannot be the absolute best idea you have for this.”

“Why not?” He leaned back. “From where I’m sitting, it’s a fantastic plan.”

Caroline’s jaw dropped and she stared at him. He was serious. She knew that set of his jaw, the glint behind his eyes. Matchmaking wasn’t a science, it was magic. A fail safe, a terrible and beautiful promise: that somewhere out there, somewhere, maybe, a soulmate existed. And if you were lucky enough, maybe magic would find them for you.

“Enzo, seriously this time. Why even ask me? You know I’ve never been interested in matchmaking with a werewolf or witch. I like my life.” She spread her arms to include the house. “What you're asking me to do, asking of me, it changes everything. Why?”

He was quiet for several moments, his gaze unfocused. When he spoke, his voice was strangely serious. “My magic likes the match.”

She considered that, shifting to hug her knees to her chest. She’d been friends with Enzo since she was seventeen years old and she’d dragged his half unconscious body out of a car wreck that should have killed him. In turn, he’d been there for her when her mom died and her dad disappeared. He’d helped her get established in her career of choice, even though he’d been disapproving of the reasons why she’d chosen to go into it. 

She trusted him. 

Enzo liked to hide what he could do because he was so good at what he did, and she’d seen him drunk more than once post-match. His magic was not… unkind, but it wasn’t easy, what it demanded of him. To put two people together, with the intention that they’d make a relationship work for possibly hundreds of years. The weight of success and the pain of failure were both so heavy. 

Enzo did not match lightly. 

His magic liked the match. 

Her stomach flipped as she really considered what that meant. No such thing as soul mates, Enzo always insisted, just the endless probabilities of human lives narrowed to a single red thread between two people. And here, he said, was her chance to see if this probability would work for her. 

She couldn’t decide what that made her feel.

“You swear this isn’t about Dad?”

A tip of his head. “While I have no compunction about putting a few hundred werewolves between you and whatever mess he left behind, it’s not about him. You were right. My magic should never have considered you for this. You’ve never wanted to find a match, and honestly, I’ve always liked that about you. And nothing about this is going to be easy. But when Rebekah brought me his blood, all my magic could see was you and the potential you two had together. I could no more deny you the chance to say yes than breathe.”

She groaned under her breath. “This could be a disaster. You know I hate politics, and I’m an only child. I’m terrible at sharing. He’s alpha. Nothing he does is his alone.”

“I know. The circumstances are unusual, so they’ve been willing to negotiate generous terms if things don’t work.” Enzo grinned. “No one wants to trap either of you, not when all parties know that magic isn’t infallible.”

She eyed him. “I don’t like it when you think you’ve got it all figured out.”

A laugh. “Come with me to New York. Give it two years. A year for the truce, a year to fortify whatever weaknesses his enemies attempt to manipulate. At the end, if you want out, no one will stop you. I’ll dissolve the marriage myself. No loopholes.”

Enzo never dissolved marriages. That, more than anything, told her how serious he was about giving her an out. How badly they needed to truce. 

“I guess you really do have this all figured out.” 

“I wish I did, but we both know that’s impossible with something like this. I can only read the magic, and tell you what I see. But I’ll do everything I can to help you.” He smiled ruefully. “We’ve gotten good at hiding bodies, what’s a few more?”

Caroline wasn’t sure she should have found that comforting, but she did. “And just who am I agreeing to consider marrying?”

Enzo suddenly coughed and stood, a familiar hint of devilment twisting his lips. “Klaus Mikaelson.”

She spluttered. “Klaus Mikaelson? You want me to marry Klaus? He killed Mason?”

His smile widened. “Yes.”

Caroline gawked at him. Before she’d gone to Europe, Klaus Mikaelson had been the third most powerful Alpha. Young, handsome, devastatingly charming, he made people forget just how terrifying he could be with a pair of dimples that raised the blood pressure of every woman past puberty. 

He was also Rebekah Mikaelson’s half brother. 

Enzo had been entertaining her for years about the Mikaelson sibling dynamic. Klaus had not been spared in those stories, and while she’d never met him, she knew two very important things: he was built on lines that had always, always snagged her attention, and the sharp temper of his wolf, the brutality of his temper, hid a clever, agile mind that made him dangerous to underestimate.

“Enzo!” She protested. “Klaus?”

Sliding his hands in his pockets, he spun towards her door. “Yup.”

“Just where do you think you are going?”

Enzo tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “To get your cheesecake. You didn’t think I lied about that, did you? And you might as well fetch me that beer. We both know I’m not going anywhere until tomorrow, at the earliest.”

Caroline stared at his back as the door clanged behind him, heart hammering in her throat for a hundred reasons she couldn’t explain.

[yuzudonut]

vexos hcs and random notes

ill update as i go, because yes i do update my masterlists every once in awhile, i should probably add them to my pinned... 

General

I sincerely hope they have a small living arrangement so I can inflict them with the pain of having to share almost everything with each other

I just want Shadow and Lync to share a bunk

Like to think that alongside Volt, Mylene and Lync were also recruited by Hydron

None of them officially joined until they were a bit older but probably trained to eventually join the Vexos; in the mean time they probably worked for Hydron or something like that

Volt recruited at 11; Lync a year later and Mylene following not long after (respectively 13, 8, 12 when they’re all gathered)

My reasoning to why Volt is patient with Lync’s antics and Mylene less so but doesn’t lash out as badly as you think she would around annoying little kids; grew up tgt moment

Spectra probably forced his way into the Vexos like “hiiii i see you dont have any Vexos members <3″ bcs obv he wasn’t using royal scientist dad privelages (i think, bcs Clay seems horrified abt Spectra being a Vexos and well, being Spectra) 

Shadow had an advantage of being a nobleman (in terms of him being accepted into the Vexos’ ranks)

the Vexos and their set of rules magent-ed on the fridge door or something and every time they go over a page they have to staple/tape a new page on

Joined in this order, Volt, Spectra, Shadow, Mylene, Lync, Gus 

Vexos being a “chance of death low but the chance is still there” type of job... they feel like idols girl help they are bakugan idol group who work for the government 

sorry the way the vestal kids talk about them... going to treat the Vexos like a kpop group now

Spectra Phantom / Keith Fermin 

[canon] son of a (royal?) scientist. definitely had it good and comfy

think it’d be REALLY funny if he already knew Shadow before he became Spectra, Shadow just doesn’t recognize him bcs of his stupid get up

throws childhood friends Shadow Spectra at you, just two weirdos 

Keith specifically keeps Shadow from ever meeting his sister which is why neither of them really recognize each other

Pre-Spectra; probably would’ve been really into bakugan biology and what not. Feels like the kind of person to talk w/ his dad about “do you think we could change their appearance if we messed w/ their mechanical ball form or would it not carry over to their released forms”

this mf looks like a biology major i feel it in my guts 

mom isn’t dead she just divorced Clay bcs he didn’t know how to balance family and work, good for her

probably lives in another city now, and it’s a bit more of a hassle to meet with her kids so they don’t see her as much but she is present in their lives (keep in contact in other ways) 

probably went a bit silent when Keith went missing

didn’t bleach his eyebrows bcs he didn’t want to harm the skin around there and he never thought he’d take the mask off around others, or about how stupid he’d look without the mask

please please please please draw him with his pink hair roots in his MS fit he should've grown out some of his bleached hair by then

daddy issues is truly the root of evil

Gus Grav

Just Some Gut background; middle class just living life

[canon?] was going on a route to being an “idol brawler”, because that’s kind of what their brawls felt like, since it was all purely for show with some competition. it felt less like a sport and more spectacle.

Gus wanting to be an idol brawler is actually such a funny string of words put together I’m making that a thing, if he didn’t join the Vexos he would’ve been an idol brawler

I like the Gus needs glasses hc (shoutout to @marmeladebois ‘s post on that) 

The hc of him being half human and Runo’s half brother is so good 

Cooks well but refuses to help cook fr the Vexos (unless Spectra specifically asks) --> that job is usually left to Volt

not related but reminds me heavily of yugioh vrain’s Spectre (or other way around... Gus was the blueprint) 

Shadow Prove

[handbook canon] a vestal nobleman 

has an older brother (oc; Lux- casual Haos brawler)

inferiority complex or whatever, the only thing he bested his brother in was Bakugan

the Prove family being typical prim proper noble family and forcing Shadow to be repressed is something, but the Proves having the same kind of wavelength as Shadow but in different variations is funnier. They’re just Like That.

Probably not a military family, does work closely with the government still; um im thinking somewhere under the Fermins but not by much

Considered running away from home several times 

Unwillingly has knowledge on Vestal classic literature/ music

hard clutching a wall whenever he wants to join in on discussions about it bcs he knows this stuff but no way is he going to make himself look like a nerd + hes not actually that interested

*debates you for fun and bcs i hate u <3* 

You know how he doesn’t take his job as a Vexos member super seriously, I wonder:

did his parents force him to be a Vexos since he wasn’t interested in the political side of his family and probably against taking up anything related to it, so they had him do something that’d still be beneficial to the family?  

joined to pursue a freedom he didn’t have as a nobleman and is now just taking it really easy?

has clowns > jesters debate with volt; obv he’s team clown, volt is team jester

incredibly irrelevant but if he was a human he’d be chinese, i’ve claimed him, prodigal son older brother and fail son dynamic is there 

Mylene Ferrow

While I like the idea of her being from a military family, I want to make her like Ling Wen (TGCF) in the sense she started from the bottom and climbed to the top... it fits her ambitious nature of grasping for more, she hasn’t reached what she considers the top just yet... 

[very Ling Wen specific but Mylene being put in jail fr crimes unknown to me and being recruited  by Hydron bcs she kicked serious ass is an entertaining thought] 

I like to think she’s closest to Shadow due to the fact he kind of forces his presence onto her so... not her choice in that matter. “annoying” to “endearingly annoying, you still aren’t getting special treatment though”

Ofc Volt and Lync are on the same level, but I think they all know when to give each other space so they’re more of a “we hold each other at a distance, but we’re aware of out closeness which is enough for us”

Then its Spectra and then Gus in the “closest to Mylene” scale; she just straight up hates Gus and it’s mutual

whoever made the “Mylene and Spectra were exes” hc I think it’s really funny so I’m adding it here 

terrible fashion, she’s the one who chose the outfits when she and Shadow went to earth; her fashionable armor look she usually has was designed with Volt’s help, she just voiced what she generally wanted 

Her red lipstick look was bcs she thought it’d make her look more serious/ intimidating (Volt and Lync approved, it rlly does work on her)

Shadow matches w/ her (via his red nails) after they get teamed up tgt several times bcs he thinks they’re basically the go-to duo matchup whenever they’re assigned work n it’d be cool

Very forthcoming about the fact she used to be considered a criminal and was from same rundown area Volt and Lync come from

She’s grateful she got out of jail but she still has no respect for Hydron and despite how much she tries to hide it she does make it pretty clear to him she doesn’t really like him

I wish I had more to say about her... but It’s all relationship esque, i think in general she’s enjoyable and good so what I want more out of her is character dynamics

Lync Volan

[eng dub] he has grandparents; whether they’re still alive or not is...? 

was part of the same area Volt is from

probably aware of each other but didn’t really know each other

you sound like you have mommy issues 

came from the same area as Volt, but lived further out and closer to those areas where there were some bits of nature left 

ill expand on why he got picked up by Hydron another day lazy rn

Volt Luster

[canon] he’s from an area that just straight up looks like yugioh 5ds’ Satellite, and Hydron was the one who pulled him out of there  

He says Hydron pulled him out of there when he was a kid? I’d assume at youngest it’d be like Hydron (8) and Volt (11)

has a neat collection of handmade jester dolls 

lot more artistic than he seems 

Had his guardian bakugan with him the longest; had Brontes even before he met Hydron

Would the others consider him weird fr having a talking Bakugan that acted friendly with him n cracked jokes? 

[franniebanana]

CQL Rewatch - Episode 7

Their first vow together. So nice! I actually do like the parallels here between Lan Yi and Wei Wuxian, and Baoshan Sanren and Lan Wangji: you have one set being reckless and untamed (I said it) and the other set trying to restore order. It’s kind of funny that the ancestors are switched, though. So here we have Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji vowing to bring all the Yin Iron pieces back to the cold spring pond to neutralize them, and of course Lan Wangji’s first reaction is, “None of your business.” It’s cute how Lan Yi takes Wei Wuxian’s side and has a sense of pride for her close friend’s disciple. I think he’s an honorary Lan in her eyes.

And then Lan Yi gives them a warning to not make the same mistakes she made. Wei Wuxian’s like, “Yep, got it, I promise.” But we all know from the beginning that this obviously doesn’t go well for him, since he dies in the first five minutes of the series. He will go on to make some questionable decisions, most of which are driven by his emotions, which are often not in check. Side note: I love this series, but I don’t like how they took a great grey character like Wei Wuxian and turned him into a character where many of the things that went wrong were caused by other people.

Another side note. That fucking Yin Iron fell on the guqin so many times, and it didn’t dent it at all. Is the guqin made out of iron too? I thought it was wood. If I did that to my violin, I guarantee you the violin would not fare very well.

Forever a favorite moment. It was great enough that they were tied together by Lan Wangji’s headband, but even better that Wei Wuxian fell on him. So great—such a tease to the audience. And this is as close as we get to the scene in the book when Lan Wangji uses the body binding spell to keep Wei Wuxian on top of him all night (ooh, my heart skipped a beat when I read that).

Also, taking the screenshot, I noticed you can see the impression of the little metal piece from Lan Wangji’s headband. Little things like that interest me for some reason. I wonder if it bothered Wang Yibo—did it press too hard on his forehead? I remember him saying he’d get tan lines from the headband.

I love this little smirk he does. A moment when Wei Wuxian’s gift to gab really pays off. Instead of letting Lan Wangji talk and explain the situation, Wei Wuxian keeps speaking, lying about what they were doing. I’d like to think he does it in part to protect Lan Wangji and to stop him from breaking any of his clan rules, but likely it’s another chance for him to prove himself as someone Lan Wangji can trust. And I take Lan Wangji’s little acknowledgement of him there as his silent “thank you.” It says a lot, I think, that Wei Wuxian is willing to lie to Jiang Cheng in order to protect the Lan Clan’s secrets.

I’m sorry, but every time I hear Nie Huaisang say, “You were gone a whole day and night,” my mind immediately goes to the gutter—like the implication is that they were doing something inappropriate during that time. I keep expecting a sex joke, only to remind myself that this was on Chinese television and that would, of course, not happen. Jiang Cheng says a similar thing (and my mind goes the same way that time too), but in that case, canon book Jiang Cheng does later accuse them of having a more-than-friendly relationship, and he does not say it in a nice way.

Also, throughout the scene that precedes this, where Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji are discussing what to do next with Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen, it really feels like wangxian just want to go on a buddy road trip together, and they are so disappointed when they are turned down. Oh, I didn’t screencap it, but Lan Wangji has the saddest sad face at the end.

I think Lan Wangji is a little impressed here but he doesn’t want to admit it. Wei Wuxian has a great gift to come up with ridiculous stories and lies at the drop of a hat. I love that Wei Wuxian doesn’t have to come up with a scary snake story when he could have just told Nie Huaisang what he’d already told Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing, but he does anyway. Mad respect.

This also kind of amuses me because Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji can never really have a moment alone. They keep getting interrupted by other people when I think they just want to talk about what they experienced. Instead we just have all these shared glances. Nothing like a big fat secret to get close to each other, right?

Omfg Jiang Cheng is so jealous! I thought maybe I was imagining it or just projecting my own ideas onto him, but NO—he is jealous! He’s all like, “If you like Lan Wangji so much, why don’t you marry him?” I mean, that basically happened. I’ve gone on about this before, but I love the tension between Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji, and the fact that it continues even after Wei Wuxian dies makes it even better. Jiang Cheng is so stubborn and continues to hold a grudge against Lan Wangji, and it bothers the fuck out of him that there’s someone out there devoted to Wei Wuxian, by whom Jiang Cheng feels so betrayed.

And, I mean, by this point, it’s already started. As soon as they get to the Cloud Recesses, Wei Wuxian starts paying more attention to Lan Wangji than he does to either Jiang Cheng or Jiang Yanli. And Jiang Cheng likes to say, “You’re worrying my sister, you’re hurting my sister” when he really means, “You’re worrying me.” His stupid pride gets in the way of having a good relationship with Wei Wuxian. And I don’t think Wei Wuxian would ever put Lan Wangji above Jiang Cheng, who he considers his family—at least not at this point. It’s not until the second half that things switch, and really, even then, in the CQL-verse, the two are probably equal in Wei Wuxian’s mind. He backs off from Jiang Cheng due to Jiang Cheng’s attitude toward him.

Okay, Jiang Cheng’s jealousy aside, I love how steadfast and supportive Wei Wuxian is of him. As soon as he catches on that Jiang Cheng is jealous, he immediately starts trash-talking the Cloud Recesses and talking up Lotus Pier. It’s very cute, very sweet. He’s a good brother to him, really.

Now who’s jealous? Just kidding. I love his wistful expression here, as he watches them go off. Anyone who’s read the book knows that Lan Wangji does get jealous at times and certainly frustrated with Wei Wuxian’s coquettish behavior. I would say he is more longing at this moment, maybe even wanting to get closer to Wei Wuxian, without really understanding why himself. There’s such an isolation to his world: even though he’s surrounded by other disciples, he doesn’t have any friends. He’s maybe regretting how quickly he refused to the invitation to Lotus Pier. I think, on the one hand, Lan Wangji has found one person in this world who not only shares a secret with him, but who has similar goals—on the other hand, his code of ethics are all over the place. His heart and mind are conflicted: he wants to get closer, but he doesn’t want to make the wrong decision. To his Gusu Lan Clan mind, Wei Wuxian is all wrong, but his heart says otherwise. And I’m not saying he loves him already—but he is already seeing a kindred spirit in Wei Wuxian, someone who he can rely on, someone he can trust, someone who has his back, even if it means bending a few rules. And in a relationship, you have nothing if you don’t have trust.

I never noticed that they were communicating telepathically here. Or something. I dunno. I guess it’s not that clear.

Also if it feels like I’m ignoring all these parts with the Wen Clan, it’s because I am. I mean, not really, but this is all the Yin Iron stuff that I don’t really care about. And I’m not in the Xue Yang fan club either, so I’m not going to spend time on him until he’s actually in it in Yueyang (possibly) and Yi City. Actually, confession: I’ve never watched the Yi City flashback episodes. I read it, so I know it, but I never watched it hahaha. I will this time around. I made that pact with myself.

AWWW, HE SMILED!!!

Ahem, excuse me. This is too fucking cute, though. The rabbit lantern that Wei Wuxian drew just for him, his cute baby smile, and the Wei Wuxian pointing it out with a grin. Cuteness overload—my heart can’t take it.

But I also had a sad thought that if Wei Wuxian hadn’t come over, Lan Wangji would be sitting here alone. He’d make his lantern all on his own, send it off into the sky, say his own prayer to himself, and never hear Wei Wuxian’s, which likely sends Lan Wangji over the edge with his feelings. Everything he thought about Wei Wuxian was true, and maybe it’s okay to like him, maybe it’s okay to consider him a friend, maybe it’s okay to trust him that way.

Just a shot that I liked. Enjoy.

I feel so bad for Jiang Yanli here. I also feel bad for Jin Zixuan, even though he’s a complete dick. I understand how they both feel here—to be tied to someone you don’t know, from the time you were small children is incredibly unfair in my eyes. That being said, I know this still happens in other parts of the world, and it’s implied that it’s common in our CQL/MDZS world (which would make sense, of course). I like the feeling of siding with Wei Wuxian, wanting to come to Jiang Yanli’s defense and protect her honor, while also still having an understanding of how Jin Zixuan must feel about the whole thing. His choice has been completely taken away. And he’s, what, 17 here? What 17-year-old boy wants to be reminded constantly about how he’s already engaged? It’s not typically a young man’s dream to settle down and get married—not that it can’t be! But the implication here, with all the girls tittering about it, is that they’re all excited about marriage, and he wants nothing to do with it. Of course, Jiang Yanli isn’t either. I think she really just wants to get to know him and spend time with him, before even thinking about marrying him.

Ah, a momentous occasion: the first time Lan Wangji tries to stop Wei Wuxian from getting himself into trouble (not counting the first time they met, when he was literally trying to police him while breaking Cloud Recesses rules). I like this shot, because you have Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji on either side of Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Yanli in the front, literally putting her body between him and Jin Zixuan (actually this parallels her final scene). It kind of shows the depths of their relationships (or at least what the director wants to show us). You have Lan Wangji, who grabs onto Wei Wuxian to try to stop him from further brawling; Jiang Cheng, who stands beside him, but isn’t really involved otherwise—standoffish, in a way; and then Jiang Yanli, who physically gets in the way. She’s the quintessential big sister. And I’m not saying Jiang Cheng doesn’t care—he does, but I think his first thought always has to do with the honor of the Jiang Clan and, while he’s standing beside Wei Wuxian, it’s almost as if he doesn’t want to show any involvement with this brawl, because that would look bad.

Ah, the old dudes meeting, while Jiang Cheng stands off to the side awkwardly, wondering if he should be there or not. At the outset, this meeting to decide their children’s future seemed kind of bad, but it actually turned out nice, with them agreeing to call off the engagement. Very progressive, I thought.

Two things I learned in this scene: Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to marry a woman and he doesn’t want to leave the Cloud Recesses yet (TL: he doesn’t want to leave Lan Wangji). He seriously looks so disappointed when she says they’re going home soon.

This feels like a mixture of “I’m worried about you” and “I don’t want to be left out.” We already know at this point that Wei Wuxian doesn’t want to leave the Cloud Recesses (more that he doesn’t want to leave Lan Wangji, because he doesn’t like all of the rules, obviously). He also is very interested in what’s happening with the Yin Iron, as he has also vowed to protect it with Lan Wangji. He is very perceptive—he knows something is happening, that Lan Wangji is going to go off on his own, and he wants to go with. It’s kind of hard to say if this is more out of duty or his adventurous spirit, but either way, he wants to help Lan Wangji.

“After his leave, things will be as quiet here as before.”

Look at how sad he is! The only person he considers a friend has just left, and at this point, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever see him again. It’s possible, sure, but then only at clan gatherings, and that’s if Wei Wuxian and Lang Wangji even happen to attend the same one. I believe we know from the book that Lan Wangji doesn’t typically attend gatherings (when he’s older), he often skips them. And Wei Wuxian isn’t necessarily important enough to even be invited, so he would have to be a guest of Jiang Cheng. Obviously we all know that they do go to gatherings and see each other again, but this is what I’d be thinking if I were Lan Wangji, okay? Like, when am I going to see him again? Will I ever see him again?

I leave you with a wholesome picture of Wei Wuxian and a rabbit. Also adorable that he contemplates bringing the bunnies back to Lotus Pier, but doesn’t because Lan Wangji might get lonely. MY HEART!

Other episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 |

[mediocre--writing]

Safe With You (Headcannon)

Harry Potter X Ravenclaw!Werewolf!Reader

(also like kinda Harry’s family X Reader lol)

Summary: You and Harry met in your first year and when he invites you home for the summer, what will his family say about your blooming relationship?

Word Count: 3318

Warnings: none, but EVERYONE IS ALIVE BECAUSE HARRY DESERVES A HAPPY FAMILY!!

i wholeheartedly believe that harry potter would have been an awkward, gangly boy regardless if he grew up with the dursleys or not

so in this, harry gets to grow up relatively normal

except peter’s gone because nobody likes him

but when harry gets to go to hogwarts after he turns 11, he’s a little bit more confident but i still think he would be a little shy and anxious

he would still be friends with ron on the train ride there

he would get to know hermione well, too

and he would get to know you as well

he first sees you at the sorting ceremony, when you were put into ravenclaw, which really isn’t the reason harry becomes interested in you

the reason he becomes interested in you is because you have large scars on your neck and face and, from what he can see, your hands, too

he’s only ever seen scars like that on one other person

his uncle moony

and of course he knows about moony’s furry little problem and he’s heard the stories of what his dad and uncle did to help him

and so the next day, when you have your first class together, he comes up to you with no intention to let you go without a friend

and from that first day on, you're both inseparable

of course around second year, you tell harry your secret because you disappear every month and come back beaten and bruised with more scars than before

and he tells you about his uncle moony, and how his dad became an animagus 

“but you can’t tell anyone because nobody’s really supposed to know about his furry little problem”

but you feel so touched because he knew the whole time and never felt in danger around you

and of course you’re close with ron and hermione too 

because like of course you would be

ron makes sure that you get a weasley sweater every christmas because nobody should ever go without one

hermione does research on all she can to help you, along with making her own wolfsbane when you reach 4th year because she’s upped her potions skills

i also feel like mcgonagall, even though she’s not your head of house, would totally hang out with you in her cat form on full moons 

or at least watch over you

harry talks about his family to you and vise versa

he writes about you a lot in his letters to home

james and lily feel like they know you already and remus is proud of harry for taking initiative for making you feel safe

you also tag along with the trio to all their wonderful adventures

you're not the greatest witch, despite being in ravenclaw

you show people that stereotypes aren’t always true

because not all ravenclaws are smart in class

but

you can always figure out the riddles to get inside the dorm

and you have the most sarcastic humor and can always get your friends to laugh

and most ravenclaw’s brains are always running so fast that they often forget homework, classes, and can often be seen scribbling down final paragraphs to essays they forgot to do the night before

you also daydream a lot

like a lotttttttt

anywhoooo

you, ron, and hermione are invited to the potter/black/lupin household somewhere around 6th year

and yes the boys all live together because with the combined riches of james and sirius they bought a house with like ten bedrooms and decided that it would be easier when they began raising harry and also taking care of moony on full moon nights and the days prior/after 

all in all it would just be easier

back on topic

you, ron, and hermione spend the last month of summer break at the unrealistically large house that you never would have guessed harry potter lived in

because the boy wears the same three shirts every week so how was his house so big because you look homeless, harry!!!

but the three of you come to harry’s house at separate times

hermione arrives first because she’s punctual like that

ron’s next because his mom was on his tail about leaving at the right time

you arrive last because the full moon was the night before and you were asleep for most of the day

you only wake up because of hedwig pecking gently at your arm with a note from harry asking where you were

and you quickly pack a bag and get yourself presentable, but the new cut that has yet to scab over on your cheek is kinda sticking out and just…

ew

you floo over soon after 

and you land in their fireplace in the living room

a really large living room that has like three couches and everyone’s there

ron and hermione are next to each other but they’re also ignoring one another???

ahhh the wondrous world of denying your feelings 

james is talking to ron

lily is eagerly talking to hermione about the new curriculum and how nice it is to finally be able to apparate and that she’ll find it easy when she learns

sirius chimes in a time or two

remus is dozing next to lily, who’s rubbing his back comfortingly

there’s an instant sense of warmth that just kinda envelops the room 

it puts you at ease 

they all turn to the intrusion in their fireplace and you smile a bit awkwardly

harry is the first to stand up and greet you

with a hug

a big hug

that lasts a little too long

you kind of collapse in his arms

james and lily share a little look

and they know that harry’s in love with this girl

as if they didn’t know that from the obscene amount of times he’s mentioned your name

james and sirius stand up next 

james hugs you tighter than molly weasley and you wince

because he’s totally the momma bear

sirius lightly hugs your shoulders because harry’s more than mentioned your condition and based on remus’ snoring on the couch, he knows that you would be just as equally tired and sore

hermione and ron smile at you and wave because you all have been talking all summer and you’ve gotten with hermione a few times already

you sit on the other side of lily, who gives you a sweet hug as to not jostle remus, who’s leaning on her shoulder asleep

you all fall into easy, quiet, conversation

you scratch a bit at the new scar on your face out of anxious habit

lily leans towards you while sirius is talking about the motorcycle he had while he was in hogwarts, and the one he has now

“honey, your cheek is bleeding a little bit, if you ask harry he can show you where the bandages are,”

even though she’s pointing out that there’s blood dripping down your face, you feel loved and wanted and welcome

so lily catches harry’s attention and he walks you into the bathroom where they keep bandages and alcohol to clean the cut

it’s a bit of an awkward walk down the hall there but once you’re in the bathroom, you sit on the closed toilet and harry grabs the alcohol and a cotton ball and leans down to your face

you look into each other’s eyes because he’s holding your chin to angle your cheek towards him

“was it bad last night?”

“it’s never good”

…

“that was a bad attempt at a joke, sorry. it wasn’t really any worse than usual, ya know?”

“i get it.”

**weird-teenagers-in-love-but-don’t-know-how-to-act-silence**

“so what have you been doing over summer?”

you don’t really know how to answer that

you don’t have any siblings and your parents are both busy most of the time so you just chill at home

“i watched movies and read a few books that i hadn’t gotten to before, i don’t know i didn't do much, really.”

“yeah we haven’t done much this summer. we spent the last like week cleaning because you guys were coming over”

*awkward chuckles*

harry put the bandage on your cheek and you both walked back to the living room talking quietly to one another

remus was awake now

kinda

he was still leaning on lily but his eyes were open

“hi, professor, how are you doing?”

“i imagine about as well as you are, y/n”

you and remus had gotten close during your third year because of your condition and you would spend time together in the infirmary 

he shared his chocolate with you often

which harry mentioned was a pretty high praise from him

he let you slip in class during days around the full moon because he was slacking too

you also had similar senses of humor and talking points

so you were already comfortable around him

sirius kinda intimidated you just because he had a very confident aura around him that kinda reminded you of the slytherins who would tease you for your scars in first and second year

but you kinda eased up around him as everyone got more comfortable

the adult’s friendship reminded you of your friendship

lily and hermione were both like nagging mothers with a little dark side

ron and sirius were both kinda overshadowed in their youth and found shelter in their friends

obviously james and harry are like the same person through and through

you and remus have a very similar personality 

as well as the whole wolf thing, ya know

and seeing the marauders and lily last so long gave you hope that your friends would stick around for you as well

everything was free and easy until dinner

everyone sat around a large table eating take out chinese food because nobody could be bothered to actually cook tonight

james and sirius were directly across from you 

and they both knew about harry’s not-so-secret crush and they were beginning to think that you shared at least some of those feelings

“so what do your parents do?”

“my mom works at a car shop, she’s a mechanic, and my dad works at gringotts,”

“so your dad’s a wizard and your mom--”

“muggle,”

“ahhh”

“yeah she’s really cool though. sometimes she brings home projects or brings me with her and we work on cars together. i’m still trying to convince her to let me buy a used bike and fix it up but she thinks it's too dangerous,”

sirius fell in love, you were immediately accepted into his heart

you were friends with harry, had a good connection with remus already, and you wanted a motorcycle???

james was still iffy about you, just because he was protective of harry, but he saw how kind and sweet and real you were

“what do you plan on doing once you leave hogwarts?”

**que alarm bells ringing in your head

“i’m not really sure, i don’t really know who would hire me in the first place but i was pretty close with fred and george, who just opened their joke shop down in diagon alley, and they were thinking about opening one in hogsmeade during the school year and said they may consider me to manage it if i wanted since i helped design some of their products,”

the boys were kinda (superduper) impressed by that because harry wasn’t really involved with pranks, and now they finally had somebody to talk to about them

then they moved on to nagging hermione because they were already close with the weasleys and knew all about ron

and his budding feelings for hermione

the first week or so was a little strange, just getting used to the way things worked around the house, but everyone was comfortable after that

harry and ron shared a room and you and hermione were together

james had made sure that the boys and girls stayed separated at night and the invisibility cloak was in his possession

oh he saw the sparks between you and harry and the blooming relationship happening with ron and hermione

lily tried to convince him that nothing bad was going to happen and let you guys have a bit more freedom

but like i said before

james is mama bear

as the weeks go by you and harry get closer 

and more comfortable

and you sit closer to one another on the couch 

and at dinner

and when you play quidditch in the backyard, you always playfully tease one another with little glances back and forth

and when you go to the lake behind their house you jokingly tackle one another into the water and dance around

as the days go by, the month comes to an end and starts again, which leads to another full moon

the week before you start to slow down and become more out of it

the last two days before, you start to gain lots of energy, whether it be from nerves or just your body knowing that it’s going to be in pain later that causes it to give you more energy before

none of this bothers harry because remus goes through the same thing and he’s kinda used to it

when you slow down, he slows with you, continues to alter what you’re doing to accommodate your energy level

when you become more hyper, he matches your energy, which usually includes giggles, tickle fights, and more competitive quidditch matches

he also makes sure you take your wolfsbane the week before

“ughhhh ok dad!”

“stop calling me that! i’m being fucking nice!”

the night of everyone eats an early dinner because you, remus, james, and sirius have to go to the little shed in the backyard that’s not really too tiny, but it’s smaller than the shrieking shack

james and sirius try to ease the tension with lighthearted comments, but you feel more tense than usual because you’ve never done this with anyone before

besides remus in your third year and mcgonagall occasionally popping in during your first year at hogwarts

when the transition began, james and sirius transformed into padfoot and prongs

remus’ transition was quicker than yours, something to do with age and his body being used to the transformation after so many years

yours took longer

and even though you took the wolfsbane, it was still extremely painful and took almost 20 minutes to finally transform

james and sirius had flashbacks to their first time with remus and how painful it looked

and they had a whole other respect for how lively and extroverted you were because even when he was your age, remus was always so mellow and quiet

but they hang out with you and remus for the night, distracting you both from whatever discomfort you may have been in 

eventually the sun came up and you and remus transformed back into yourselves

but james and sirius made sure they pushed you into another little room so when you transformed back you wouldn’t be exposed to them

you found a robe on the back of that door that you slipped on before you collapsed on the floor from exhaustion

sirius walked remus’ limping body back to the house while james came to check on you

he knocked on the door and when he didn’t hear anything he slid the door open slowly, seeing you against the wall, on the floor, in the robe they left you

your hair was tousled from the transformation and you were still breathing heavy, even in your sleep

james gently picked you up off the ground bridal style and walked you out of the shack slowly, and when he got to the front door, he saw harry anxiously wringing his hands together 

a small smile spread across james’ face as he saw his son being so completely whipped for you

harry let out an audible sigh of relief when he saw you with his dad

“she’s ok right?”

“did you notice any new scrapes or cuts?”

“was it a rough night?”

etc, etc, etc,

they made it into the house where lupin was laying on one of the couches and lily was looking over his body, making sure that he didn’t have any severe injuries

james laid your body on another couch, hermione coming to sit by your feet on the end of the couch 

harry sat on the floor right by your head, stroking your forehead and hair and staring at you with the sweetest worried expression

it was sweet

once lily finished looking over remus and he went to his room, she came over to you

“do you know if  she usually sleeps this much afterwards?”

“yeah, she usually sleeps through the day, but she’ll probably wake up between lunch and dinner then fall asleep after eating or drinking something.”

harry responded without even looking up at his mom

lily had a sweet smile on her face at her sons’ obvious affection with you

she still checked over your body for any serious cuts that wouldn’t heal themselves within the next day or two

harry made sure you were comfortable on the couch

he stuffed a pillow under your head and draped a fuzzy blanket over you 

and he sat on the floor in front of you for the whole day

he would occasionally talk to ron or hermione or whoever walked in

but he didn’t move unless he had to use the bathroom

you woke up around 3pm

and harry had his head resting on his arm, which was resting the couch

you lifted your arm and stroked his arm from his elbow down to his hand back and forth

he looked up at you quickly and you gave him a gentle smile

he smiled back

“how’re you feeling, want coffee?”

and that was in his softest, little, tired voice

of course you nodded to the promise of a hot cup of coffee

because after transformations you always felt extra cold and had to cover yourself in blankets and consume hot drinks to feel like you’re at a normal temperature 

when harry returned with your coffee you were sat up on the couch, the blanket resting over your lap

he took a seat next to you and handed you the mug

you smiled at him and rested your head on his shoulder as you rested against the back of the couch

you took small sips from your mug as you relaxed and tried to ignore any lingering pain in your body

“your shoulders hurt?”

you smiled lightly because you always complained how bad your shoulders hurt after full moons and he always asked the question with an affectionate, teasing smile

“only all the time,”

“hold on”

harry moved himself to be laying down against the pillow that you were using before, then gently pulling you down to lay between his legs, your back to his chest

he rubbed over your shoulders lightly as you closed your eyes and took the occasional sip from your mug

it only took a few minutes for the both of you to fall into a light sleep, your grip loosening on your mug, but not enough to drop it, and harry’s arms wrapped around your torso

and that’s when lily, james, and sirius walked in

they were going to the kitchen to make dinner, but stopped to check on you

and you can bet that sirius took at least eight pictures

and they were all happy harry found you 

because it never mattered if you dated or not

and it never mattered if they liked you or not

because harry loved you and made you feel safe no matter what

and when sirius and james made a bet for when you would get together, remus got all the money cause he’s good like that

needless to say, you were together by the time you got on the hogwarts express that september

[maddie-kungs-emporium]

My 10 Favorite TTRPGs (2021)

There’s plenty of amazing tabletop games out there, but I have a few favorites that I absolutely love. The most important are presented below, along with a paragraph of explanation of why I like them. If you have a bit of spare cash burning a hole in your pocket, then hit up Drivethrurpg and find yourself a copy! Before we get started though, here’s a few ground rules.  1. No two from the same system (e.g. I can’t put Mummy: the Curse and Mage: the Awakening on the list even though I dearly want to). This is mostly to prevent one system from being overrepresented (Looking at you, PbtA). By the same token I can’t put multiple editions of the same game or anything like that. 2. None of my own games. Obviously there would be bias there, wouldn’t there? 3. I have to have enough experience with the game to properly rate it. This means I have to have read the game and have a keen understanding of it. 

4. This is my personal opinion. No specific criteria are used beyond whether or not I enjoy them.  With that being said, let’s start from 10#. 

10#: Golden Sky Stories (Star Line Publishing)

This game is on the list because it is one of the most avant-garde games out there, which only makes sense from the philosophy it was created from. If you want a simple game about talking Japanese raccoons you can play with children, check this out. Furthermore, the game is possibly the most peaceful and relaxed from a writing standpoint you can get with any piece of media.

9#: Vampire: the Masquerade (White Wolf But It’s Complicated)

This game is the most personally significant to me on the list. It has serious flaws which prevent it from being any higher, but this game literally saved my life during the darkest periods of when I was young, and I mean that. I don’t actually recommend this to the majority of people, at least not unless you’re already interested, but I could not honestly make a list without it.

8#: Deadball (WM Akers)

This may strike some people as an odd choice, given it is barely a TTRPG and completely flies in the face of many basic game design principles. However, not only does Deadball stretch the limits of both TTRPGs and the game of baseball at the same time, but it does so in a way so simple that even a child can pick it up. If you want a little soothing game to play with your friends and family, it’s definitely one to consider.

7#: Qin: the Warring States (Cubicle 7)

This is one of the few games, which, in my opinion, portrays my Chinese culture in a way that is nuanced and respectful while also doing something different with it. Portraying a criminally underused historical period is one thing, but the accuracy with which they do it is another. Easily the best historical game I’ve ever come across, sorry Ars Magica, Würm and Pendragon!

6#: Flying Circus (Newsstand Press)

There is not a universe in existence where I don’t praise Erika Chappell on one of these. While Flying Circus isn’t as personally significant to me as a lot of the other games on here, it’s mechanics, lore and use of PbtA are some of the best I’ve ever read. Please check if out, you would make me very happy doing so.

5#: Adventures in Middle Earth (Cubicle 7)

From the 5E engine specifically, this game is easily the most mechanically solid I’ve ever seen. While there were other competitors, the reason Adventures in Middle Earth is so high up is because of all the things you could do with Middle Earth, with Tolkien’s incredible imagination, this is one of the far superior uses. I cannot recommend this game enough. Sadly, this is out of print, but it is still occasionally available via humble bundles. If you can find a copy and want to see what 5E’s mechanics can do at their creative peak, get it.

4#: Star Trek Adventures (Modiphius)

Not gonna lie, my enjoyment of 2d20 is hit and miss. I thought it was okay for most things, I didn’t like the Dishonored hack very much, and the Dune hack had good ideas but top-heavy execution, but Star Trek Adventures is easily the best use of this system. Doing the world of Star Trek complete justice, this game combines masterful synergy with the 2d20 engine at its best with an understanding of Star Trek that has yet to be beat.

3#: Tales From the Loop/Things From the Flood (Free League)

If I’m being perfectly honest, I like this better than Kids on Bikes. This game captures the feeling of youth as well as the ideas of teen movies incredibly well, and the Year Zero Engine is one of my favorite systems. Without a doubt, Free League is one the best TTRPG publishers in the business.

2#: Shadow of the Demon Lord (Schwalb Entertainment)

Not only is the closest thing to a perfect 5.5E we’ll ever get, but this game is easily the most mechanically solid on this list. It’s difficult to argue that of all the interpretation of the D20 systems you could come up with that Schwalb’s isn’t one of if not the most captivating. The world of Rûl is excellently done as well, especially considering it wasn’t even intended to be more than a default setting, so go check it out.

1#: Promethean: the Created (Onyx Path)

This is easily the best TTRPG in the history of the industry. Not only does it function as an exploration of the human condition worthy of preservation in the MoMA, but it is mechanically solid with amazing lore and an incredibly meaningful message. This game is one of, if not the, most amazing creative endeavors in any media. Honorable mentions go to Hoodoo Blues (Vajra), Ashen Stars (Pelgrane Press), Legend of the Five Rings (FFG), and Dark Heresy 2E (FFG). Thanks for reading.

[prettywordsyouleft]

Working Together

Prompt: #190 for anon - “You didn’t text me back, so I’m here.” 

Anonymous said:

Can I request #190 for Lee Jong Suk? Take your time!

Pairing: Lee Jongsuk x reader

Genre: best friends to lovers / office au

Warnings: none

Word count: 1812

You were surprised when Jongsuk turned up at your work, heaving in deep breaths to settle his erratic breathing. You noticed the beads of sweat on his forehead and took hold of one of his forearms, feeling how warm he was through his hoodie.

Looking around himself quickly, he then dragged you into your office, shutting the door behind him. “Sorry, I uh – you didn’t text me back, so I’m here.”

“Text you back?” you repeated, now noticing the bag on his arm. Your eyes widened. “Did you…?”

Nodding, he set the bag down on your desk. “You said it was a really important meeting today, right? I didn’t want you to be disadvantaged in any way.”

“So you ran here?”

“Well, I couldn’t hail down a taxi on my way,” he simply answered, pulling out the files you had left on your desk at home.

You didn’t know whether you wanted to laugh, cry or kiss the man before you. So many emotions ran through you and now that your best friend had caught his breath, he regarded your expression, running a hand through his hair.

Jongsuk then attempted a smile. “I mean, since I’ve not landed the right job yet, it makes sense I help you with yours, right?”

“Still, this is so thoughtful. I could have gone in without them but… thank you. I’ll make it up to you by cooking dinner!”

Jongsuk shook his head. “No, let me. I’ve already got some meat out defrosting on the bench.”

“Fine,” you answered too easily, preferring his meals over your own. Whilst you were adept as Assistant Director here at the firm, you had never prioritised the kitchen – or really any domestic chores. Thankfully, when Jongsuk moved in with you at the start of the year, you had noticed he filled in those weaknesses of yours.

You were immensely grateful. Smiling at him, you placed a hand on your hip. “What can I do for your good deed?”

“Be home on time or I’ll eat it on you,” he responded easily, hugging you before waving you off. “I’ll let you get back to your busy schedule.”

“And to your domestic one,” you fare-welled, listening to his chuckle as he closed the door.

Patting the files, you began to prepare for the acquisition meeting.

It wasn’t the first time, nor would it be the last. You hadn’t realised how much you relied on Jongsuk, or how easily he fulfilled any of your needs. You were a well-oiled machine, both at home and with your increased demands at work. You didn’t want to openly admit it, but with him not working anything more than some freelance work here and there, it helped you out immensely to be able to turn to him for anything you needed.

“Ooh, even bringing me coffee on your trip in,” you enthused, removing the takeout cup from the tray he extended in your direction. Taking a sip, you savoured the aroma and warm feeling happily. “Godsend.”

“Well, I figured by now, you’d need a caffeine refuel.”

“You’re the best, have I told you this?”

“At your service, madam,” Jongsuk answered with a grin, placing his drink down on the table and moving in behind you. With his hands instantly finding the knot in your shoulders, Jongsuk leaned over your shoulder, staring at the document on your screen. “Just, how much do you get paid for this job?”

“Why?” you wondered, staring up at the side of his face curiously. “Want my job?”

“I think you need someone to help you with it. There are four errors jumping out at me right now.”

“What?” Turning your attention to the screen, you let out a little whine. “Again?! I don’t have the time for my errors. If I could type as fast and accurate as you, I could…”

“You could what?” Jongsuk asked distractedly, too busy now editing the piece over the top of you.

You smiled. “Have you heard about that last job application?”

“It was a no. Apparently, I’m too qualified for the position.”

“So, nothing on the horizon?” you continued and he hummed to confirm this. You shifted in your chair, staring up at your best friend, wondering why you hadn’t thought of this earlier.

He was capable, reliable and more importantly, Jongsuk knew what you needed before you did. Your smile grew. “Work for me.”

“I’m sorry, is there a position available here?” Jongsuk darted his focus to your face and then back to the screen. “Don’t give me a pity position, Y/N.”

“It’s not out of pity at all. You picked up my dry cleaning, organised my desk at home which made me more productive over the weekend, and you know my coffee order spot on. Work for me as my assistant. I don’t have one currently because I don’t know how I’d feel giving over my tasks to someone else. With you, however, I’d have no problems. It’s a win-win situation!”

“Is it?” he murmured, seriously contemplating your offer. “What about us?”

“What do you mean?”

“We live together. If we also work together, won’t that be too much?”

“Why? We’ve never had problems with spending a lot of time together. We basically have breathed the same air for most of our lives. What’s going to be different about this?”

He sighed. “You’ve never been my employer before.”

“I have too!” you proclaimed and Jongsuk moved just enough so he could look at you with a raised eyebrow. You smirked. “When I was eight, I employed you to help me run my lemonade stand.”

“We were kids!”

“Did I not pay you for your time?” you mentioned airily and your best friend rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, okay, so I was thrilled with that fifteen bucks back then, but I’m not eight anymore, Y/N.”

“I’ll pay you well.”

“Money is nice but I don’t know if it’s right for us.”

“Why? What’s stopping you?” you asked pointedly and he diverted his gaze away from yours.

It was how you differed. Whilst you respected and were often grounded by his reserved personality compared to your bold one, it sometimes frustrated you that he would do this. Jongsuk wasn’t nearly as impulsive in decision-making as you could be. You knew when to make a choice on the spot and when to sit on something, however, he would categorise everything into internal pros and cons lists before committing to anything.

Eventually, Jongsuk smiled. “Tonight, over dinner. Let’s talk more.”

“Fine, but don’t overanalyse it too much!” you called as he departed, leaving you admiring his handiwork on the document before you.

You needed him.

When you eventually arrived home later that evening, you were surprisingly anxious. You hadn’t heard from Jongsuk much for the rest of the day, and when you came in, he didn’t greet you at the door. It was silly how accustomed you had gotten to these simple gestures, and hurrying to take off your boots, you moved into the living space of your home and around the corner into the kitchen.

Your nose instantly scrunched up at the smell and Jongsuk turned to wave you off. “Don’t come in here! I messed up dinner.”

“You, messing up in the kitchen?!” you remarked, unable to hide your amusement or listen to his request to leave. Rounding the island counter, you cringed when you found the burnt pot in the sink. “Oh, this is bad.”

“I don’t need to be told the obvious.”

“Good thing we have a ton of coupons for Chinese. Should I order some in?”

Once seated with your meals, you noticed Jongsuk wasn’t eating much. Sighing, you placed down your utensils and placed your elbows up on the table to help with your hands now supporting your head. “What is it?”

“It’s not that I’m not grateful for the offer. If it was anyone else, I’d accept it without any issues.”

You didn’t hide your disappointment. “Because we’re best friends you can’t work with me?”

“I’m in love with you, Y/N,” Jongsuk confessed, staring across the table at you a little hopelessly. You broke into a smile and he grew a little guarded.

“I know.”

“Wait, what?”

“I know you love me.”

“I meant more than as a friend, Y/N,” he reiterated and you nodded.

“I know that too.”

“Why are you so calm about this? Most people would either react in surprise and swoon or reject their friend for falling in love with them.”

“Am I like most people?” you questioned, still smiling. “I’m not going to reject you like you are with me.”

“This isn’t a business transaction, Y/N. They’re feelings.”

“Ones that I feel for you as well so I’m well aware of what they are,” you commented and Jongsuk’s spoon clattered to the tabletop.

“You can’t just say it like that!”

“Why, Mr Romantic, did you want something more?”

He groaned. “This is why I can’t work for you. You’re not even taking my feelings seriously. We can’t work together since you’ll never see me as a man who can lead you well.”

“I already do see you like that though, Jongsuk,” you admitted and he stopped complaining, falling silent as you eased into your feelings. “I might seem like the bolder one of us both. And maybe in some situations, I am. But you know who holds me up? It’s you. From getting things for me whenever I ask, to knowing what I need before I do, I can’t do this without you. I rely on you for more than you realise. Everything you do makes my heart want to jump over to yours. You’re definitely a man, and even if you don’t realise it, you lead me all too well.”

“I do?” he breathed, his contemplation of your speech resulting with a small smile. “You follow me?”

“How many things have you put in place for me that I’ve adopted completely? I follow your principals in life more than anyone else’s. Of course, you do.”

“Okay, so in conclusion, you love me like I love you and this doesn’t put you off any from working together?”

You nodded, getting up from your seat to find one on his lap. Wrapping your arms around Jongsuk’s neck, you leaned in close enough to kiss yet held off just enough to answer him. “As I said earlier, there’s only one person who can organise me in this world, and that’s you.”

“Can I kiss you now?” he murmured and you hummed, already reaching for his lips. It felt better than you had ever fantasised, and you could tell that Jongsuk was equally stunned when he pulled away, now breathless.

“So will you work with me, if I work with you?” you asked, Jongsuk’s hands on your hips tightening.

“A partnership?” he offered and you grinned.

“One for life.”

_________________

All rights reserved © prettywordsyouleft

[Drabble Game Masterlist] | [Kdrama Actors Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

[thegreymoon]

Hi!! I love your posts about Untamed and I thought about watching it but I wanted to ask, do you like actors' performance? It's just the gifs I see all look the same to me, I don't see any serious change in their face expressions, that bothers me a little. Like, you describe your reactions and I'd think the scenes would look intense but the on the gifs, characters just always look stony.

Hi, anon!

I absolutely love the actors’ performance (the main group, anyway), however, you have to take into account the genre and cultural expectations here. I have exactly one person IRL that I could recommend this to, expect her to enjoy it and not look at me as if I have gone insane fifteen minutes in. This is essentially a soap opera with zombies, and if you are to stand any chance of enjoying it, you have to accept it for what it is.  

First of all, the budget they had for this show did not even come close to matching their ambitions, so the monsters and the CGI are hilariously bad, which is unfortunate, considering the world it is set in. The battles are also rather sad, because they filmed with only a handful of extras, and I would be lying if I said that it didn’t show.

Another important thing here is that you have to completely let go of expectations that you have for western shows, especially the ones that are ‘gritty’ and ‘realistic’. We are used to our heroes being all sweaty, filthy and loud. The blood and the grime are a staple, and so is a whole string of vulgarities that writers rely on for shock value because they couldn’t otherwise write a coherent and satisfying story to save their life (TWD, GoT, looking at you 😠). In The Untamed, you will have your main characters make it through what is supposed to be a pivotal battle with not a single hair out of place and white robes absolutely pristine. Is it realistic? LOL, no. Do I care? LOL, again, no. 

However, I know a lot of people (men, especially) who would gripe endlessly about this and turn it into a mockery. What they fail to understand is that this is not ‘bad’, it is just a different way of doing things. If you cannot suspend your disbelief for things like that, flying swords and perfectly pitched music that kills dozens on the battlefield with a single note, then this show is not for you. Also, please keep in mind that what we may consider ‘bad acting’ is very often, in this case, simply a matter of a different acting style. 

As for the actors themselves, in the context of this show, genre and what is expected of them, I think they are fantastic. For comparison, none of them are, say, Colin Morgan, but they are all leaps and bounds better than, for example, Henry Cavil, who, once you get past his muscles, is as interesting as watching paint dry. The majority of them are also still very young (think early-to-mid-twenties) and for some of them, this was one of their first roles and I don’t think anyone expected The Untamed to blow up as much as it did. On the subject of performance, the only thing that actually throws me off from time to time is that the voices are all dubbed (this is just how it is done in China), so I catch some dissonance here and there. 

The main lead is very, very vibrant and goes through every emotion there is on screen and I find him incredibly adorable. His main love interest is the only one who may be described as ‘stony’ but this is very much intentional because he is playing a certain character type. When it comes to performance, he is one of my favourites, because he is playing such an incredibly complex character almost entirely through microexpressions, so when he smiles or cries, or shows anything at all, even though he barely moves a muscle, it is a huge fucking deal and an entire legion of fangirls worldwide squeals in unison. 

His brother (my favourite) is very similar and, again, this is intentional. The difference between them is that while the first one is ‘stony’, the other one is completely neutral. He always smiles pleasantly and radiates an insane amount of calming energy, and again, you have to rely on microexpressions to tell when he is a second away from going feral and committing murder. I am fascinated by both of them, in the sense that they both dress the same and act the same, yet one is vibrating with such intense murder energy the entire time, while the other emanates peace even under the worst of circumstances. 

Anyway, the point is, all of the characters are very distinct, their personalities are wildly different and their choices in life range from soft and benevolent to cold-blooded vengeance and unhinged murder. Another big thing in this show is how they portray the difference between good and evil, as compared to politeness and acting out of turn. They start with cookie-cutter, simplistic villains and move up in complexity. The story itself is very fascinating, not to mention, one of the best and most respectful portrayals of a gay love story I have ever seen on film in spite of the censorship and all the other limitations they had to deal with. 

Another thing that you have to be aware of is that the subtitles on YouTube are hilariously bad, but even if you watch it elsewhere, Chinese does not always translate particularly well into English. Also, the show is filled to the brim with tropes that are very familiar to the viewers in China, who get an additional level of delight from seeing them subverted, but which will be really unfamiliar to western viewers, who will often end up confused. It was only after I read The Dumb Husky and His White Cat Shizun (which is the same genre as the novel The Untamed was adapted from) that some of the things in the show suddenly made sense, so I can only imagine how many other little things just flew right over my head. 

Anyway, sorry for making this so long, anon, but if you do decide to watch this show, please keep in mind that the first two episodes are likely to be very, very confusing and strange. Just keep pushing! Everything becomes clear as you get further along, and at one point, those first two episodes just smack you over the head with how much sense they make retroactively and then you just want to sit down a little and cry 😢 

If, however, you cannot get past the messy CGI and the acting style, one thing I would like to recommend is trying the donghua (animated series) instead. I have not watched it yet, but it is really beautiful, and when I cried to one of my friends about this show, she told me, ‘Wait... that sounds familiar!’ and it turned out that even though she did not know about the drama, she has already watched/is watching the donghua, and she tells me that it is fantastic. 

Anyway, here are some ⭐⭐⭐⭐ for all of you who made it through my rambling here! How does one give short answers? Someone, please teach me how!! 😭😭

[danceworshipper]

Okay I can't wait any longer so I'm posting this now. This is my writing piece for @hphmbang2020 and the art by @mervinamoonishere will be linked when it gets posted! The prompt was about how much better Rowan deserved. I'm on mobile, so I sincerely apologize for the lack of a "read more" (5,035 words)

Edit: link to the art: https://mervinamoonishere.tumblr.com/post/630784625693818880/hello-this-is-my-art-piece-that-i-did-to-the

Not Your Sacrifice

Rowan Khanna stands at the edge of the universe, staring out into the abyss. Her eyes are bright, shining with the light of the stars, but dull and sad inside. She stares at something she can't see, something impossibly far away. There's a pain in her chest that won't go away. She doesn't know how to alleviate it. Right now, all she can think of is her memories of the living world that haunt her, all the things she left unsaid. Hands shaking, Rowan takes a breath and begins to speak, though no one is around to hear her.

"Uh, hey. Merlin, how do I even start this? I'm pretty sure you can't hear me now, but I wish I could have said something before I got hit. Or at all. It happened so fast, didn't it? I'm not even sure when the moment I died was. At least it didn't hurt; not that I can remember. I didn't feel anything, but I saw it coming. It was rather pretty, actually, being surrounded by such a bright green."

She chuckles sadly, pressing a hand to her chest. Though there had been no pain, Rowan flinches. Sometimes that moment is all she can see, all she can hear. Just the green, and the sound of crackling power. She doesn't want to cry, not right now, not yet. After refocusing her mind, Rowan speaks again.

"Are you okay? I guess not. I wish you hadn't had to watch. Really, I wish it had never happened. Jumping in front of Ben wasn't even a choice, I don't think. I just moved, and then I was here. I suppose this is Heaven? No one has said. It seems like Heaven with how beautiful it all is. The gardens are mind blowing here. I landed in a garden, and then my grandfather found me and brought me to his and my Grandma's tree farm. They have tree farms here, can you imagine that? Anything you could ever want in the entire universe, right here where you can have it."

A brilliant smile forms on her face. It falls just as quickly.

"Anything except living people like you. You're what I miss most of all. People always said that the suffering ended once you died but... you're suffering, and that makes me suffer."

Her voice is growing tighter. Rowan grips her arms, never looking away from the person she can't see. Her nails dig into her skin, but leave no marks behind.

"Sometimes I can see you all, just little glimpses of what's going on. The 'Circle of Khanna' huh? Sounds a lot more impressive than it should. I believe in you, of course! I didn't mean that in a bad way. It's just rather funny to imagine a powerful group of witches and wizards named after me. Is that my legacy? I died so you all could become great? Rowan Khanna, the girl that got murdered. I - "

Her arms drop.

"I don't like that. That's not who I wanted to be. I wanted to be the youngest professor at Hogwarts. I wanted to travel with my friends and learn as much as I could. I wanted to live, really live. Now I don't get to. I don't just want to be the girl who died. Anything else; I could have been anyone else! Why was I such a failure? I didn't do anything I wanted. I didn't even get to be a prefect. Don't blame yourself, though. Please. Don't be more upset. You deserve to live your life and be happy. You do so much for everyone. You've saved lives. You've done so many amazing things."

Rowan sniffs. Now, instead of sad, she looks as though she hates herself.

"Why didn't I try to stop Rakepick? I had plenty of time. I had my wand. I could have stunned her. Anything but die, which was arguably the least logical action. High stress situations, I suppose. You never know what you'd actually do, and apparently my solution was to jump in front of Ben and die instead of doing anything that would have made sense. Even being a coward and doing nothing might have been better. Is that selfish? To wish that I had let Ben die? I don't like it here. I don't want to be here!"

Rowan screams in frustration. There's nothing around her, but her yell echoes anyway. Tears are falling from her eyes, and she blinks fiercely, still not taking her eyes off of her first friend. Her best friend. Rowan's chest heaves with every forced breath, and a look of desperation grows on her face.

"I know so many spells. I could have stunned her, hexed her, set her on fire, frozen her, blinded her, even just confused her with some random flowers. I could have helped. I could have prevented all of this. Not you. You did everything you could. I'm the one who was lacking. I always dreamed of a situation like this, where I could swoop in and be a hero and maybe then I'd matter a little, but when it happened I didn't even think about using my stupid wand."

Her wand materializes before her eyes from the nothing, and she angrily grabs it and snaps it in half. She can't use it from here. When she throws the pieces away, they fuse back together and vanish. It only serves to make her more upset.

"Everything is perfect here. Nothing ever goes wrong. You can't break anything, or hurt anyone. I cut myself while trimming branches and I didn't even feel it. No blood, no scar, nothing. Is that supposed to be a good thing? Can anything even be good if there isn't anything bad to compare it to? Or are we supposed to compare all this good with all the bad we went through in our lives?"

Rowan finally looks away. She rips her glasses off and wipes at her eyes, though the tears keep coming. Her chest shudders now as she tries to control her breathing so she can keep talking. The grief is overpowering her, threatening to consume her, so she tries to cheer herself up.

"It really is beautiful here. I shouldn't be complaining. There's so much space for trees, and they never wither or get sick. All the bowtruckles are easier to get along with. They seem to trust everyone. There are even dragons here! Friendly dragons that don't want to fry me up and eat me. I got to ride a Chinese Fireball around. She took me up to the nebulas and I could almost touch the stars. It felt like a dream, and it still does. None of this feels real. It's too perfect. I guess that's how it's supposed to be, right? No more suffering, unless you're me, still mourning the loss of my own life."

The tears start again no matter how hard Rowan tries to stop them. She looks down, fidgeting with her hands for a moment, and then looks back up almost hesitantly. Within a second she looks back down. There's something she needs to know, but is afraid to ask.

"Why did you leave me?"

It's a change of subject, from beautiful star dragons to ended friendships, but by the pained look on Rowan's face, she's been thinking about it the whole time. She keeps her eyes down, glasses still clutched tightly in one hand.

"I thought I was a good friend. What did I do wrong? Why did you stop hanging out with me? We used to do everything together. What happened? Was it me? Did you just outgrow me?"

Rowan sobs loudly.

"Was I too much of a coward?"

She hits the ground with a thud, sprawled out with her legs in different directions and her back at an odd angle. It can't be comfortable, but she doesn't move from the position. She's too exhausted.

"I gave up on the vaults. I couldn't handle it. Even though Ben used to be a coward, he kept trying. That was it, wasn't it? I was too scared, so you left me behind. You didn't tell me anything because you thought it would keep me safer and I was too weak to handle it. Right?"

There's no answer. Rowan's friend can't hear her. With a huff, Rowan sits up, the effort making her wince. Her face is wet and red and blotchy, and she's squinting - she dropped her glasses when she lay down. She doesn't look for them.

"You should have told me so I wouldn't have to find out for myself."

The dark anger in Rowan's voice is far different from the sad anger it held previously. Her friend's betrayal - could it even be called that? - really hurt her.

"This is your fault. It's not, and I know it's not, but it's your damn fault. You're the one who stopped talking to me. You're the one who left me so far behind I had to run to keep up! I tried! I tried so hard to be the best friend I could be, and what did I get? Dead. I got dead. I hate you!"

Rowan falls silent, and flops back down. The rage has dissipated. Her next words come out barely audible.

"I don't hate you. I shouldn't have said that. I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I miss you so much and I shouldn't, because you didn't love me. Not in the end. You loved everyone else; you loved everyone useful. All you could focus on was those vaults, and so anyone who wasn't helping you didn't matter. I didn't matter. All I did was follow you around like a puppy. Was I annoying? Were you too nice to tell me to go away? Were we really friends in the end?"

A pause.

"I noticed you kept the spare pair of glasses I had in my bedside drawer. There's a few more things in my trunk that I'd like you to have, if you ever find the time to go through it. If you even want to. My old watch is in there, a few things from Diagon Alley, and a few pictures. There's one of me and you from the beginning of fifth year, and one of us and our friends at the Celestial Ball. I think there's also one of me and Fuzzclaw in there. My parents already have a copy of that one. It's from the day he was born, I'm pretty sure. We had already decided we were going to keep one kitten, and as soon as I picked him up for the first time he snuggled right into me and that was that. I was only seven, so I thought I was super special that a newborn kitten already liked me that much. Merlin, I didn't even get a decade with him. Never would have guessed that I'd die first. You never expect that kind of thing. You always think you'll outlive your pets, your parents. My parents are miserable, you know. I've seen even less of them than I have of you, but they're not doing well. I can't blame them. I never told them much about the vaults. I didn't want them to worry."

Another pause, a longer one. Rowan is lost in thought for a while, looking thoughtful at first, and then even a little angry.

"Was that it? You didn't want me to worry? Too bad. I already knew too much. Even if I didn't know a single thing about the vaults I would have been worried about you. You don't get enough sleep. You say you do, but I don't believe you. I doubt you eat enough. You run yourself dry with homework and the vaults and every little problem anyone has. It's okay to make sure you're okay. As much as I miss you, I hope I don't see you again for a really long time, because if I do, I'll have to smack you for not putting yourself first. Just say no! Just say 'sorry not right now, I'm tired.' Stop wearing yourself thin! You're not helping anyone by hurting yourself like this."

Rowan reaches out, her hand easily finding her glasses, almost as if they were right beside her the whole time. They weren't. As Rowan sits up, she refocuses her eyes out in the distance. If she tries hard enough she can almost see her friend again. Almost.

"Put yourself first, but you need to take down R. If that's the last thing I can ask from you, avenge me. You need to make me worth it. It's selfish of me to say, because going through this might ruin you, but I know you can stop Rakepick. I know you can end R's reign once and for all. You and all our friends. I've seen the things you can do with friends by your side. Taking down this cabal should be nothing."

Rowan snorts.

"Maybe not nothing. But I believe in you either way. You're incredible, and you have Bill Weasley on your side. Is it just me, or is he only getting cooler the older he gets? I still sometimes can't believe that I got to be somewhat friends with him."

A small smile appears on Rowan's face. Her eyes glaze over a bit, no longer focused on her far away friend. Instead, they become focused on a memory.

"Remember when Bill told Emily off at the Celestial Ball and then came over to talk to me? I'm so glad you convinced me to go. It would have been fun even without Bill, but really it was only because of you. You always made me feel better about myself. You were right; I would have regretted not going. I didn't want to make a fool of myself, but if I didn't go I wouldn't have those memories or be a part of those inside jokes. I would have felt even more left out then I already did."

The smile drops.

"Dammit, I really don't want to start crying again."

A little meow comes from behind Rowan. She whips around and sees a large, fluffy grey cat staring up at her. Rowan's smile comes back through her tears, and she reaches out for the cat to come closer.

"Toebean!"

The cat perks up at the name and leaps onto Rowan's lap. Rowan strokes the cat's fur as it purrs.

"You're another someone I didn't think I'd see so soon."

Rowan looks back up toward her friend again.

"This is Fuzzclaw's mother. She was one of the most affectionate cats I've ever seen. She'd always come into my room when I was crying and sit on my lap like this."

Toebean adjusts on Rowan's lap to be able to look up at her. Rowan wipes at her eyes again and rubs Toebean's stomach, something most cats would never let anyone do. Rowan smiles sadly again.

"Such a good kitty. I was nine years old the last time I saw you, wasn't I? You were the first family member I ever lost. I remember sobbing under the blankets every night for months, wishing you would come back to me and cuddle me again. Every single time I was ever sad I'd think of you. Fuzzclaw was wonderful, but he never quite understood me like you do."

Wiping her eyes isn't helping at this point. Rowan's getting choked up again, alternating looking at Toebean and her friend in the distance.

"Turns out dying yourself hurts just as much."

Toebean meows louder, pawing gently at her owner. Rowan sobs and leans down, hiding her face in Toebean's fur. Now Rowan's voice is muffled when she speaks.

"Did you feel like this? Did you miss us like I miss my friends? My family? Did it hurt to leave us behind, or were you happy here with all the other cats and all the food you could ever eat?"

Another sob. Rowan sits up straighter, and Toebean meows disapprovingly.

"I know. I know you want me to stop crying."

Rowan sniffs.

"I want me to stop crying, too."

Toebean leans into Rowan's chest, looking as sad as a cat possibly can.

"I just miss them so much. And I can't stop thinking about how I'll never be able to be anything. I'll never get to be Head Girl, or the youngest professor at Hogwarts. I might get to learn everything there ever was to know, but I won't get to do it with my friends. I'll never get to help them achieve their dreams, or help them through their hardships. I'll never get to attend their weddings, or go on a tour across Europe with them. I'm nothing now. They'll all forget me someday. They were already starting to before I died. I did get to spend a little time with my best friend though, right before. It was so nice. It felt like the old days, where it was just the two of us against the world. You would have loved them, Toebean, all of them. I have so many stories to tell you, like that one time my best friend cast the tickling charm on this nasty girl Merula in first year. I almost laughed as hard as she did, and I didn't even get hit! Merula did end up getting nicer throughout the years, even if only slightly. And then there were all of my actual friends, like Penny and Barnaby. Penny was really good at potions, and she knew all the Hogwarts gossip, which would have been a bad thing if she wasn't so nice. Barnaby seemed pretty stupid, but once you got to know him he was one of the sweetest people ever. I used to help him out with his homework sometimes, and he always thanked me so genuinely. Ben I'm not sure I ever really liked, which is ironic because he's the one I jumped in front of. He was cowardly at first, but he still always helped out when he could. He started acting weird though, and I didn't trust him. It turned out he was being controlled by someone, but I still thought something was wrong. I guess he won me over in the end. Oh, and I was sort of friends with Bill Weasley! He was the coolest boy in school. He was smart and powerful and really, really tall. He was a couple years older than all of us - I'm not actually sure why he spent so much time with kids that much younger than him, but I'm not complaining. Maybe he did it for his brother, Charlie. Although Bill joined our friend group before Charlie did... I don't know. He's a Cursebreaker now. Rakepick got him that job."

Rowan's face hardens at the mention of her murderer.

"If there's only one person I could ever wish death upon, it would be her. Rakepick was our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor during his last year, my fifth year. She came to the school the year before that because Dumbledore wanted her to deal with the vaults and not us, although she immediately got a few of my friends involved, which got the rest of us involved too. I wasn't there when this happened, but she took a bunch of them into one of the Cursed Vaults and then left them there to die. She hit Merula with the Cruciatus Curse, and probably would have killed them all if my best friend hadn't through Garroting Gas at her. No one expected her to be a member of R, not even Professor Dumbledore. We thought she was working against R, and that even if we didn't like her we could trust her. I didn't trust her, though. I thought she was a bad influence. Turns out I was right."

A little smugness appears on Rowan's face, although she grows more serious again quickly.

"After she disappeared we decided that we couldn't let her get to the last vault first. She was willing to murder children, so if the treasure of the vaults was anything to do with power, we couldn't risk her getting her hands on it. We tried everything we could to stay one step ahead, which was difficult considering we had no clue what R was up to. And then..."

Rowan trails off and gulps. Toebean looks up at her almost encouragingly.

"I wasn't as involved as I should have been. I still don't know everything that was going on, but I was getting really worried. It was so rare to see anyone with any hope anymore. I followed Ben, Merula, and my best friend into the Forbidden Forest one night. They didn't want me there, either to keep me safe or just because they thought I would get in the way. No one ever told me anything at that point. I used to help all the time, you know? They'd ask me about curses or secret codes, and I'd do what I could. But in sixth year they never talked to me. That's why I followed them. I felt left out and I just wanted to help. I didn't actually follow them, I guess. They left long before me, but after a little while I couldn't help myself. I knew they were in danger and I just had to go make sure they were alright. They weren't. Rakepick was there, and it was really cold for some reason. I think there might have been dementors there. That would explain the cold and the heavy feeling of dread. Rakepick was attacking the three of them - Ben, Merula, and my best friend - and she said something about my best friend owing her a life, and then she tried to kill Ben. And I ran..."

Toebean gives a sad meow.

"And now I'm here, because I acted on impulse instead of doing something smart. I was watching for a little bit. I could have stopped her! I could have done something to throw her off so they could get the upper hand! Why didn't I help? Why was I so stupid?"

The tears start again as Rowan shudders. She heaves so hard she almost throws up, and Toebean jumps off her lap to avoid it.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She's not talking to her cat.

"I'm sorry, okay? I never wanted this. I just wanted to help, and now I can't even say your name because I'm afraid I'm going to go off the deep end even more than I already have. I'm a damn coward."

Her mind has gone back to second year when she said she'd never go to another vault. It may have been the right decision at the time, but she regrets it so much it causes a physical pain in her chest. Rowan thinks it may be her biggest regret in her whole life.

"I know I let you down. I know. I'm sorry. I was scared. I know you think I'm a worthless coward. I know you like your other friends more than me. I know! I just wish you had lied about it! That you had pretended you still loved me and needed me! I know I was annoying! I know I wasn't as useful as everyone else! I know! I keep saying the same things over and over again and I know that I am but you're not hearing me!"

Rowan is screaming. Toebean sits a short distance away, watching.

"You never listened! You never listened to me and now you never will! It didn't matter if I was right or not, because you wouldn't listen! You should have left it alone! Let the adults deal! I know they were incapable but at least you would have been safe and then I wouldn't have had to die! I don't care who else would have gotten hurt as long as you and I were okay! I'm a terrible person, alright? I just wanted us to be okay."

Her voice cracks on the last word and she stops screaming, panting. She shoves her hand in her hair and pulls. She scratches at her arms and claws at her chest. Nothing hurts her. She can't make her blood flow, can't leave a mark. Even launching herself out of a tall tree didn't hurt, which Rowan discovered - had it been yesterday? She can't remember. It's so infuriating.

"I want to go back."

It's a whisper, a miserable whisper.

"Let me start over. Let me be better. Even if keeping you safe means I'll have to make you hate me, I'll do it. Just let me start over."

Nothing happens. No god responds, no all powerful force resets time. Rowan is dead, and she can't go back no matter how much she wants to.

"I hate Rakepick for doing this. I hate Dumbledore for not stopping her. I hate Mad Eye Moody for not preparing you better. I hate your brother for getting you into this mess. I hate you for dragging me into it with you. I hate you so much but I don't actually hate you and that hurts more than hating everyone else does."

Toebean slowly creeps back over. Rowan sniffs and reaches out slightly.

"I'm not going to freak out again. Not right now."

Taking that as permission, Toebean settles back onto Rowan's lap. Rowan's right hand goes back into her cat's fur, her left fixing her glasses on her face. They stay silent for a long time, although time doesn't really matter anymore. It might be days they sit there, staring out into nothing, or it might only be seconds. Neither of them could say for sure. All Rowan does is stare, absently stroking Toebean's fur, and the cat simply lies there and offers silent support. Rowan's face shifts with her train of thought sometimes, but she doesn't speak aloud until the silence fully unnerves her.

"Do you think Grandpa knows where we are? Is he worried?"

Toebean doesn't answer.

"Do you think he and Grandma even care? How long does it take until you become numb to the living world? They don't react at all when I mention Mum and Dad. You'd think they would want to know what they've been up to, but they don't. They're perfectly content to be here and let the living world be as it is. How long did that take? For them to let go? Will I ever reach that point?"

Still, Toebean doesn't answer. Probably because she's a cat and cannot speak. Even without an answer, Rowan continues on.

"I guess I should be grateful I'm not a ghost like Duncan. He constantly seems miserable, from what I've heard, and he'll never be able to pass on. He'll never see anyone he loves ever again. At least I'll be here with my family and friends in the very end. No matter how far away that is. I miss them, but I hope it takes a long time. They all deserve to live and be happy."

Rowan sighs.

"I guess I didn't."

The silence stretches on again. No one is around to tell Rowan just how much she did deserve to live and be happy. That out of everyone, she deserved to live her life the most. No one is there to remind her just how much she means to everyone, and how much they miss her, and because no one can tell her, she doesn't believe it. She cries again, and again, but she doesn't let go. She just keeps trying to send her message out.

"I miss you."

Rowan was an incredible friend. She cared more than she let on, and she worried so much. She loved her friends with all she had, and it left her dead in a moment of impulse. Could she have stopped Rakepick, at least for a second? Yes, of course she could have, but what she did do shows just how big her heart is. Even if she and Ben never fully repaired their friendship, she still was so horrified at the thought of him dying that she jumped in front of him. She could have just run away, but instead, her fear driven impulse was to protect, and that means something. Rowan deserved better, so much better. She was not a throwaway friend. She was smart, brave, loyal, and ambitious. She could have fit perfectly in any house. If only she had lived, she could have done incredible things that no one else could have ever dreamed of. Like everyone, she had her bad moments. Her trust, once lost, was hard to earn back. She let anger get the best of her sometimes, and fear. Rowan was human. Humans are not perfect, but Rowan Khanna was closer than most. Rowan was wasted potential in every way, and no one should ever forgive the people who did this to her. Rowan Khanna will not be remembered as the girl who died, but rather the most incredible friend we've ever had. As we prepare to face R and fight this final battle, we must remember her and all she's worked for. We're doing this for her. It's the least we can do to repay her.

I miss you, Rowan. I wish I could tell you how much I miss you, and how much I love you. We'll win this fight for you, and no one will ever forget you. I promise I never will. Love, your best friend forever and ever.

Rowan's best friend can't sleep. It's not an unusual thing these days, but tonight it seems even more impossible. If they try hard enough, they can almost see her again, hear her voice. She's watching over them; they know she's watching. They'll make her proud.

"I miss you."

The two of them said it at the same time, but they'll never know that. Even so, saying it brings a small amount of comfort.

"I miss you so much."

There, in bed, in the dark, with a silencing charm around them and with the curtains drawn, Rowan's friend finally breaks down and weeps.

[twentiethcenturymoviesandtv]

M*A*S*H: The Characters Part 4: B.J. Hunnicutt, Sherman Potter, Charles Emmerson Winchester III and Conclusion

Of all of the cast shake-ups throughout M*A*S*H’s run, none were more impactful on Hawkeye Pierce than the departure of Trapper McIntyre.

The original ‘sidekick’ and best friend archetype, Trapper’s absence at the 4077th immediately took its toll on Hawkeye, who came back from R&R to find that his best friend had left without a note.  For both the audience and Hawkeye, however, there wasn’t much of a wait before his absence was filled with a newcomer: Captain B.J. Hunnicutt (Mike Farrell).

A surgeon hailing from San Francisco, California, B.J. was a newcomer, fresh out of med-school and completely unused to the horrors of front-line surgery.  Introduced at the start of the new season, (meeting Hawkeye in the middle of his frantic attempt to say goodbye to Trapper) it became instantly clear that he was no ‘replacement’, but instead almost an opposite, a foil to the previous character’s archetype and to Hawkeye himself.

Where Trapper was a womanizer, B.J. was a loving, devoted husband and family man, a Nice Guy who started the show out as a tad naive, gentle, and idealistic.  He was a prankster, sure, but he was more likely to take a stand and argue with Hawkeye than Trapper had been, possessing a temper that, once roused, could be dangerous (leading to at least one physical altercation with Hawkeye).  At the beginning, the ways of war are a sudden jolt to him, one that he doesn’t necessarily take well.  As with every character, as time goes on, B.J. began to change as a result of the war, growing a mustache in a distinct ‘anti military’ move, and becoming more jaded, slowly evolving into the cynic between himself and Hawkeye.

B.J. was a good man at heart, as concerned for his patients as Hawkeye, but without the level of external breakdown that Hawkeye tended to go into.  More of a Tranquil Fury type, B.J. managed to keep a reasonably cool head, (most of the time) and acted as a Morality Chain, a voice of reason where Trapper was an encourager.  He was a more mature character, a husband and father increasingly feeling the wear and tear of being forced miles away from his family without any way to see his daughter grow up.  He also possessed a nasty jealous streak, seen often when Hawkeye mentioned how much Trapper had meant to him.

Despite their differences, B.J. and Hawkeye became very close friends throughout the show’s run, constantly having each other’s backs and being each other’s coping mechanisms through the horrors of war.  As surely as the others, B.J. became part of the 4077th’s family, and as a result, his character required the same amount of closure that the characters that had been there from the beginning deserved.

At the end of the show, B.J., like the others, gets to go home, and we as an audience learn that B.J. really doesn’t like saying goodbye.

After dancing around it through an entire episode, B.J. leaves a final farewell message to Hawkeye, (and the audience) in a heartfelt display of affection to his best friend, the man who made Korea bearable for him.  In the end, in a fitting display of the entire basis of his character, B.J. does what Trapper never did: he left Hawkeye a note.

But he wasn’t the only newcomer to make an impression.

Following Henry Blake’s death, the 4077th was in desperate need of a commanding officer (someone to relieve Frank Burns from his tyrannical reign), and replacement came in the form of Sherman Tecumseh Potter.

In much the same vein as B.J. was the complete opposite of Trapper McIntyre, Colonel Potter was very much the Anti-Blake, in the best way possible.  A career army-man, Potter was both a dedicated surgeon and a dedicated army man, on his third war.  Hailing from Hannibal, Missouri, Potter was just the man to shape the 4077th into some semblance of order, following Henry’s bumbling chaos.

Although still a Reasonable Authority Figure with a sense of humor, Potter was no pushover, standing his ground against Hawkeye and B.J.’s schemes and Frank Burns’ wheedling.  A Father to His Men (and an actual grandfather – Potter was another family man, a direct contrast with Henry’s cheating), Potter settled in instantly, a Cool Old Guy with a love of westerns and horses who could be empathetic and caring for his unit in their moments of weakness, and also make sure that Klinger didn’t get away with this week’s Scheme.

Potter was probably one of the characters who developed the least as the show went on, most likely due to his already settled personality as an ‘Old Soldier’, but by no means did he leave Korea unchanged.  As the show went on, Potter had moments of hidden depths, notably in terms with hearing the news that the last of his old squadron had died.  Potter often grappled with his age, sometimes causing him to feel competitive with his surgical abilities, attempting to prove that he could keep up with the younger doctors.  Like the others, despite his age and experience, Potter was very human, afraid of making mistakes, and, after three wars, was thoroughly tired of the killing.

“They keep inventing new ways to kill each other. Why can’t they invent a way to end this stupid war?”

After the war ended, Potter, too, got to go home to his wife, Mildred, saying goodbye to his newfound family, and receiving a genuine salute from both B.J. and Hawkeye, becoming one of two characters Hawkeye ever saluted (the other being Radar).  In the end, Potter had his unit’s affection and respect, and left Korea with dignity.

“Well, boys – it would be hard to call what we’ve been through fun, but I’m sure glad we went through it together.”

Despite beginning the show as a potential ‘replacement’ for Henry Blake, he ended it, much as B.J. did for Trapper: as an entirely new character in his own right, who changed the dynamic of the unit in general, bringing a wholly unique style to his command, and the show in general.

But there was one other character who had yet to appear on the show: another ‘replacement’ character who quickly proved that he was no simple replacement.

Exit Frank Burns, replaced with Major Charles Emerson Winchester III (David Ogden Stiers).

Charles Winchester, originally from Boston and then stationed in Tokyo, was a thoracic surgeon and pediatrician, and very good at it.  Born into a wealthy family (Very Blue Blood) and schooled at Harvard, Charles was an asset to the 4077th once he was assigned there, (after trouncing a commanding officer at cards and boasting about it) despite multiple pleas to the unmoved Colonel Potter to be reassigned.  

“But, know this: You can cut me off from the civilized world, you can incarcerate me with two moronic cellmates, you can torture me with your thrice-daily swill, but you cannot break the spirit of a Winchester. My voice shall be heard from this wilderness, and I shall be delivered from this fetid and festering sewer.”

As with Potter and B.J. before him, Charles proved very quickly to not simply be ‘the new Frank Burns’, displaying instead a completely separate and different series of personality traits, not the least of which was competence.

While Frank’s less than stellar abilities as a surgeon were repeatedly the butt of many jokes (and a source of superiority for Hawkeye, Trapper, and B.J.), Charles was legitimately excellent as his job, his only difficulty being adjusting to the pace and style of ‘meatball’ surgery when not able to utilize the time and equipment available in high-end hospitals.  But there was more to Charles than simply being good at his job.

Charles joined the cast to fill in as an antagonistic character, a role vacated by Margaret several seasons ago, and a part left entirely empty thanks to the departure of Frank Burns.  However, while Burns tended to be ineffectual, more of a nuisance than a problem, a consistently ‘inferior’ character who was always obviously wrong, Charles typically had more weight and reason to his actions.  While consistently butting heads with Hawkeye and B.J., Charles’s snobbery and selfishness could be treated as a joke, yes, and his character overall as ‘worse’ than the other two Swamp inhabitants, but at the end of the day, Charles was simply more human than Frank, and thus, a lot harder to hate.

Despite multiple attempts to ‘Break the Haughty’, Charles remained steadfast and stubborn through his time in the war, a Gentleman Snarker who slowly revealed a Jerk with a Heart of Gold type of personality.  He had a great sense of Family Honor, and despite his Insufferable Genius tendencies, proved that he had Hidden Depths, (and a potential history of a Lonely Childhood and Parental Neglect) which occasionally showed to prove to the audience, and the rest of the 4077th, that Charles was no Frank Burns.  Indeed, despite never losing his position as a ‘foil’ to the 4077th cast, Charles remained a proud, but good man from the moment he arrived until the moment he left, another symptom of a show who had matured past the need for cartoonish sit-com villains.

Despite the fact that Hawkeye never succeeded in breaking the ‘Winchester spirit’, Charles did leave Korea a changed man.  Besides learning to operate in horrendous conditions, at a pace designed merely to keep people alive and not much else, Charles took one final blow in the M*A*S*H finale: “Goodbye, Farewell and Amen” that spoke to both his character, and the toll that war takes in general.

Throughout the show, it was made abundantly clear that Charles adored classical music, viewing it as a haven away from the war, allowing him to forget about it for a little while.  His love for music enabled him to connect with a group of Chinese prisoners of war, who know some Mozart.  Throughout the episode, Charles teaches them some more, bonding with them until a prisoner exchange sends them away.

Later, the POWs are killed en route to the exchange.  As they’re brought back to the 4077th, only one is still alive, and he dies before Charles even has a chance to operate.  This devastates him utterly, to the point where he destroys his own record of the song he’d been trying to teach them.

“For me, music has always been a refuge from this miserable experience… now it will always be a reminder.”

In the end, Charles gets to go home, and in a sign of how far he’s come, he leaves the 4077th on the last remaining vehicle, a garbage truck, with utmost dignity, remarking that it’s only fitting.  Charles leaves his 4077th family, and the audience, in a somewhat surprising turn of events, misses him, is sorry to see him go in a way that we were never sorry for the absence of Frank Burns.

There were other characters, sure: the paranoid Colonel Flagg, the kitchen and mess hall staffer Igor, Klinger’s mortal enemy, Zelmo Zale, Ascended Extra fan favorite nurse Lieutenant Kelleye, and sympathetic psychiatrist Sidney Freedman, or Margaret’s less than stellar husband, Donald Penobscott.  This was more evidence for the care and realistic development that the M*A*S*H world was given: a variety of people filling in alongside the main cast, making a comfortable family that over eleven years, viewers got to know very well.

In the history of television, very few casts have had the lasting impact on viewers the way the M*A*S*H cast did.  At the end of eleven years, the audience was owed that finale, a way to say goodbye in a fulfilling way to characters that had become very familiar, important, almost real to viewers who had been tuning in to see them grow and change for over a decade.

The cast of M*A*S*H each served a place in the stories, with unique characters with depth and personality that transcended the flat character types typical of sitcoms just a tad previously.  The audience knew these people.  They liked these people.  Every character feels real, genuine, and memorable, and their dynamics are nearly as memorable as the characters themselves.

Throughout the show, you watched these characters grow and change, finding new ways to approach situations, as viewers got familiar with the core traits of their individual personalities.  They work very well as characters, as people, both entertaining and compelling figures for the audience to want to spend time with every week.  They felt real, like people you could know in real life.

And it worked.

M*A*S*H’s characters are still loved to this day, for being both entertaining and stellar examples of what happens when television characters are written like real people, with flaws and growth and kindness in varying doses.

In the end, it is that humanity in each character that gives M*A*S*H it’s longevity, and what places these characters as some of the most iconic and beloved in American television history.

Thank you guys so much for reading!  Join us next time as we discuss M*A*S*H’s place in the times and the culture.  If you have anything you’d like to say, don’t forget to leave a comment!  I hope to see you all in the next article.

[inspirationdivine]

Threads  That Bind || Lydia and Nell

Timing: Current Parties: @nelllraiser @inspirationdivine Summary: Lydia and Nell get to know each other much more than intended Triggers: Head trauma mention,   stalking

Her wings were entirely free. Under a glamour so that none might see, but Lydia revelled in the feeling of the wind cutting around them, ruffling the fresh wing. Everything was heightened under the new nerves, freshly learning what to feel and what to ignore. It was beautiful and disconcerting, but as Lydia walked along Amity road with pain for the first time in six weeks, Lydia could enjoy herself. Even as she saw a woman struggling with something on her hand, Lydia thought nothing of it, beginning to sidestep around her automatically.

Was it Nell’s fault that she hadn’t gotten around to trying out the prize she’d gotten for entering the pie contest until this moment? Probably. But was it also her fault that her finger was now seemingly and hopelessly stuck into one side of the chinese finger trap, rendering her halfway useless? Most definitely. Muttering to herself under her breath with frustration pouring over her lips, she didn’t hesitate to call out when someone came a little too close to her. They’d have to be the one to help her get this thing off, and free her from the child's toy’s obviously nefarious clutches. “Hey! You!” She abruptly pointed at the woman with the hand that was still held prisoner by the woven contraption. “Help me out of this thing! It won’t let me go.” The witch waved her hand around in vain, making another attempt at releasing herself.

Lydia frowned, turning on her heel as someone addressed her, pointing right at her like Lydia was some carnival spectacle. “It’s a child’s toy, isn’t it? You need to compress it to get yourself out.” She stepped forward anyway, a nervous, jittery energy to her movements - she was energetic and jittery, mushroom spores thick in the air. “Look, like this,” She said, fully intending to push it so that it would open around the girl’s finger. That wasn’t what she ended up doing. Whether it was that both their hands moved in the wrong way at the wrong moment, or fate intervened, or just the mushroom spores messing with her actions, all of a sudden, Lydia’s finger had sunk right into the hole, trapping her as much as Nell.

Nell blinked cluelessly as the woman’s finger soon joined in on the not-so-fun of being trapped. “A child’s toy, huh?” she commented dryly. “Of course I already tried pushing it. I know how it works,” Nell said stubbornly. “This isn’t working obviously so just...take your finger out, I guess. Maybe I can cut it off or something.” It hadn’t yet occurred to Nell that the other women might also be stuck, apparently doomed to a life of being prisoner to a Chinese finger trap. What the hell was wrong with this thing, anyway? She should have known anything she won from the pie contest would be some sort of cursed shit.

Lydia frowned, looking up at Nell, as if it was the girl’s fault rather than her own. It should be simple, shouldn’t it? She pushed her finger into Nell, and then pulled it back, but where it should have slid off easily, it remained stuck, trapping them in place. “Not again,” Lydia muttered to herself, trying to get her finger out the normal way again. “Scissors might not be a bad idea. Oh come on, this isn’t funny. Where on earth did you get this thing?”

Nell’s own frown deepened as the woman’s continued attempts proved fruitless. “What’s wrong with this thing?” she growled in frustration, jerking on the trap perhaps a little too hard, as if she could force her finger out of it. “I have a knife,” Nell said without explanation before trying to jimmy one of said blades from its hiding spot with her single free hand. It was a bit more difficult to coerce it out when her mobility was limited by their connection. “Here we go-” she said before laying the dagger against the trap, beginning to move it in a sawing motion. Instead...the metal of it promptly began to spark, as if it had met another metal it couldn’t cut through. “What the hell? This is bullshit!” It seemed her usual method of powering through wasn’t working. “I got it from that stuid pie contest! It was a prize!”

Lydia’s eyes widened in surprise as Nell just whipped out a knife. She flinched, cringing away as Nell tried to hack away the band, risking their fingers in the process. Lydia was almost relieved it didn’t work. “You won it in the pie contest? Why on earth would you ever put yourself in a situation to risk such danger? I don’t know anyone who was truly completely happy with their prize, everything came with a double edge. Oh well. We will just have to solve this. Did it come with any instructions? I know someone with invisible scissors that we could try, for the last time something happened.”

Nell growled with frustration as the thing held true on their fingers, leaving them still connected. “Well I didn’t know the prizes were faulty to begin with,” she replied defensively. “Why would I have any reason to think so?” But when Lydia mentioned instructions, Nell pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket, and handed it to the other woman. “I thought it was like a fortune or something when I read it. It was in with the packaging, though.” On the paper was a simple, singular sentence of ‘Release can be found in many unexpected places, but working together to solve problems will yield unmeasurable strength.’ The woman’s last words were quick to catch Nell’s attention. “Invisibile scissors?”

“What does that mean? We already tried the working together thing, pushing our fingers together and all that, that was co-operation.” Lydia tapped her fingers. There was almost a smile on her lips as she thought about it. This might be a riddle, and while the mushroom spores were thick in her mind, Lydia did love a word game. “Oh, oh! I was in a similar situation to this before, an invisible bond that could be broken with invisible scissors. I suspect it wouldn’t be the solution here, because this bond is… rather visible and rather an eyesore, I must admit.” She tapped her lip. “Unmeasurable strength. Do you have more strength than one might expect? Working together…. I wonder if this is not the problem we need to solve, necessarily. Solving problems implies more than one, while this little trap is only one. Do you know anyone with problems worth solving?”

The woman seemed to be almost enjoying this a little too much, and Nell wasn’t quite sure she was as keen for a riddle as her trapped partner was. “Who are you?” she asked in some bewilderment, still not sure what to make of the other woman. “A similar situation? What do you mean?” This woman grew more confusing by the moment, and even bigger of a mystery. As for unsuspected strength… “I mean- maybe. Do you?” Did magic count as unsuspected power? Probably, right? But parts of what was being said made sense in a way, even if Nell wouldn’t have thought of it herself. Unfortunately she seemed to have too many problems worth solving. None of which were ones she was happy to share with a complete stranger. “Yeah but- what about you? What are your problems?”

“I was stuck to standing near a man for a couple of weeks. It was no toy, but highly inconvenient.” Maybe. Lydia relaxed slightly. At least she wasn’t dealing with a human. “I wouldn’t call it unmeasurable, but something like that.” Not that she could promise bind a toy into doing anything. Fae magic required the capacity for thinking. “A lost friendship, a cruel stalker, a head injury that refuses to heal as it should, and complete weariness,” Lydia replied offhandedly, as if she was just reading a list off a menu, rather than the acheful thoughts that kept her up deep into the night. “None that seem the sort of thing that can be solved for a toy like this, nothing that requires unmeasurable strength.”

“How were you stuck next to a man? What does that even mean?” Nell continued to press, being her generally nosy self. “And you didn’t even tell me who you are, still.” The mention of the woman possibly having her own hidden strength was intriguing, only bringing more questions to the forefront of the young witch’s mind. She could think how each of the problems she had might relate to one of the ones Lydia had listed. Which...what exactly did that say about what her life had become? But it was also worrisome if this random woman also had such deep-seated problems. Was this just White Crest as a whole? Shaking that thought away, Nell decided to go on the offensive rather than wait to see if the other woman asked after Nell’s personal life. “Okay...which of those is easiest to solve?”

“It’s a rather long story, which I’d prefer not to go into.” That was another friend she’d lost, after all. Lydia shook her head. “It was likely some errant spellcaster leaving magic lying around where it shouldn’t have been, unlike this situation here.” Well, it really depended on who had made the finger trap, didn’t it? Lydia had a horrible thought for a second that spilled ice down her spine. Were there mime spell casters? Had they been responsible for this? “None of them, particularly. Certainly not anything that can be resolved by a stranger. I cannot undo the loss of that friendship, I don’t even know where the stalker is at this time, and nothing can done about my head that hasn’t already been done. Time is supposedly the answer to all ails, so I will just have to wait, which is hardly appropriate here. What about you?”

“You still haven’t told me your name,” Nell insisted, wondering whether the dodging of her question twice in a row had been intentional or not. The mention of a spellcaster had her interest piquing, somewhat surprised that the woman would mention the supernatural so freely. “Sometimes magic just has a mind of its own.” She wouldn’t expect someone who hadn’t wielded it to understand. “Well- we have to resolve something.” Nell’s impatience was getting the better of her, also growing restless of standing in one place for so long. “I’m good at tracking,” she said absently at the mention of the stalker. “My mom’s a healer, but she’s sort of out of business right now.” Temporarily losing your magic via fext tended to do that to a person. “And the loss of friendship doesn’t have to be permanent like you said, right?” A frown was quick to grace her lips as Lydia turned the question back to her. Reluctantly, she answered in the vaguest terms she could manage. “I’m probably also coming up on a lost friendship, my family had a stalker but we’re working on that. A threat to them was actually recently resolved. Change will be coming that I’m not welcoming of.”

“You’re right, I have not,” Lydia agreed, if only because she was exhausted by magic forcing her to make acquaintanceships she’d rather not. Lydia frowned at Nell as she got frustrated, trying not to be frustrated herself. “I’m not sure my stalker is one I want tracked. The only reason I’m alive is that he changed his mind half way through murdering me and resuscitated me mid drowning.” Her mouth tasted sour. “I can’t control other people’s feelings, that isn’t one I can work on. At all.” Admitting that stung more than anything else. None of the other woman’s issues sounded particularly easy to solve either. Perhaps a random stranger’s would have to suffice. If the resonance between their problems  Lydia sighed. “I’m Lydia Griffin,” she said eventually. Lydia looked down at her finger. “Oh! Thank goodness!” She exclaimed, jerking her finger back. But what had previously appeared as looseness and space to remove her finger and had tightened back to the point of cutting off her circulation in her finger, pinching painfully. “Drat. I should have never let you get that thing near me.”

“But if you don’t find him first, isn’t he gonna find you?” Nell questioned. “Wouldn’t it be best to just take care of the stalker before they get their chance?” At least, that had been her primary philosophy ever since the entire Montgomery situation. “Strike first and maybe then they won’t even have a chance to strike back. Sometimes stalkers just change their minds partway through, I guess. Or something else gets in their way.” Like your sister’s head. “Ah- sorry about almost dying though.” The name took Nell a moment to process, but she found it mixed in with the darker days of Bea’s death and capturing August, realization striking her. “You kept something for my family,” she began cryptically, an appreciative tone in her voice. “Wait- wait- how’d you do that? Get it to loosen? It liked your name or something?” Nell bent to look closely at the finger trap before giving it her own name. “Nell Vural? Penelope Vural. Penelope Nisa Vural.” Each attempt became more impassioned, thought nothing seemed to happen when she continued tugging her finger.

“He has found me. He knows where I live, where I work, who my friends are. He can turn himself to mist, he has a gaze that can freeze anyone on sight. Striking first is easier said than done.” Lydia shuddered. “It’s not a simple solve, is what I’m saying.” She pushed away the comment about her near death, and the finger trap grew tighter again. There was an impulse to share, but Lydia had never been the sort. She’d rather her features were a mirror than a window into her own feelings. When Nell talked about her keeping something, Lydia tilted her head in concern, with no idea what Nell was talking about. Or at least, not until Nell tried to unlock the puzzle with her name. 

 Lydia pursed her lips. A Vural. She had met the tempest in a crystal bottle that was Lucinda Vural, aggressive with a sword with a vicious streak that had only barely left Lydia unscathed. And then there was Beatrice, who was apparently special enough to have caught a Fae’s attention, but was also rotten in every conceivable way, right down to how she had been dead and still ought to be. The Vural name left a rather terrible taste in her mouth. “Whatever it was, it wasn’t enough. Our names are hardly problems to be solved, are they? It’s something else.”

“I’m not saying it’s easy, I’m just saying maybe it’s something that should be looked into rather than waiting. I didn’t mean it was simple- I just meant it might be worth trying it out. I mean if he’s come after you again won’t you just be waiting for him, then?” But it seemed Nell’s views on the matter weren’t meant to align with Lydia’s. As for Lydia’s apparent disdain after the witch’s mentioning of the favor Luce had taken from the woman, Nell wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it. It could very well have been Luce being her usual person-phobic self that made Lydia react the way she did. At least the other woman hadn’t said anything distasteful about the family. That would have been a quick path into sprouting even more tension with Nell. Offhandedly, Nell huffed with frustration, getting more antsy to be free by the second. “I don’t know they could be problems to be solved when your middle name is your mom’s name.” It hadn’t been meant as any heartfelt admission, and had been more meant as a joke than anything, but it seemed good enough for the finger trap as it loosened in the slightest, and Nell reflexively tried to pull her finger out to no avail. “It did it again! What the hell does it want?”

“He can’t reach me anymore,” Lydia said pointedly, shutting down that conversation with the chill of her tone. Similarly, the toy tightened around her finger. Lydia glanced around, as people walked past them. Some were not hesitant to show their stares at the two frustrated women, but quickly backed down under Lydia’s glare. Vural or not, she would have to get along with this spellcaster. “Perhaps we ought to go somewhere else. People are staring.” She said, beginning to shift them towards a cafe where they might sit in a booth while they discussed their… entanglement. “Oh, this loathsome little thing,” Lydia sighed, and tested her hypothesis. She dug into the rawest part of her, pouring salt over this fresh wound and could hardly hide the ache in her voice to this particular stranger. “I knew better than befriending someone who would never be able to fully accept my species, and it hurts bitterly that I let myself love that person anyway. Would you look at that, every therapist in the world has just been validated.” While the toy had loosened at her comments about Remmy, it zipped back up as she made herself sound cynical, an easy defense mechanism for the tears she always felt on the brink of. Unmeasurable strength, her ass.

Nell could have dug her heels in and refused to budge, but was there a point to doing that at a time like this? As it were- they were attached almost literally at the hip, and she was a little hungry… Maybe she could order something in the cafe. “Your species?” Nell echoed, trying to remember if she knew exactly what Lydia was. She wasn’t quite as good at distinguishing fae. They were many and far in between, varied in their natures and appearances. “I mean I know that you’re-” she hesitated, not wanting to say the word ‘fae’ aloud when others were anywhere nearby. “I know the broader term of your species.” That would have to do. “I think it’s...difficult,” Nell began, thinking of her own struggles that had come from growing up as a spellcaster. “If people aren’t a part of it— they can’t ever truly understand. Witches are almost in between and kinda isolated because of it. The normies are afraid of us cause we’re different and unknown and confusing- but we’re also not a part of the non-human supernaturals. I guess what matters is...if they try to understand it or just accept it for how it is, right?” The finger trap loosened just in time for Nell to continue on with her words. “I don’t think it’s your fault for caring, though. Even if it bites us in the ass too much of the time,” she finished with a sardonic chuckle as the toy tightened again. She groaned. “I don’t know what this thing wants us to say. Are we supposed to start braiding each other’s hair and talking about boys or something?”

Lydia nodded half heartedly as Nell compared her experience to spellcasters, not believing it at all, so while Nell’s end of the toy loosened, Lydia’s became tighter. For pity’s sake. Lydia grit her teeth together and tried to care more earnestly. Perhaps she could learn something about Felix here. “No, but that doesn’t make here easier now,” Lydia acquiesced, as the toy loosened more and more. Perhaps this was the right way to go.  “I don’t see the point in talking about boys. Surely we’re both more interesting than any adjacent men,” Lydia’s eyes glittered teasingly, trying to find one light note in a miserable situation. “Clearly, it wants us to share emotional intimacy. Unmeasurable strength indeed. It wants us to be empathetic to each other despite our differences.” Which meant Lydia would have to show this human as much empathy as she might normally show Deirdre. It was going to be a stretch. “I suppose I could tell you about how my father decided to be absent during my teens which resulted in my failure to learn control over my abilities and while our relationship is good now, I still resent that, or how it felt when my sister was reported murdered twelve years ago, but it’s absurd.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Nell agreed readily with a shrug, knowing all too well how true it was that logic generally never eased the pain of a lost friend. Despite her better judgement, Lydia’s comment on boys managed to tug an amused half-smirk to her lips. Unfortunately the expression was quickly wiped away by a grimace, instantly wary of anything that included the words ‘emotional’ and ‘intimacy’, especially when paired with one another and a relative stranger. But if that was the only way out...what choice did they have? “But you learned after?” Nell asked. It was easy to be curious when she was naturally nosy, and the questions weren’t yet geared towards herself. Nell breathed an annoyed sigh, realizing that she’d have to return the favor of admitting something. “My dad was mostly good- but he never stood up for us. My sisters and me. He just let our mom blame me for everything, let her ignore Luce, and make Bea into her mini-me with an Olympic schedule. You said your relationship is good with your dad now, though? How’d you do that?” Surprise flitted over Nell’s features, not expecting the news of a dead sister on Lydia’s part. “Do you know who did it? We just- we finally got the man who killed Bea. And I know they say revenge is never good but- this felt good. You could have that, if you know who it was.”

“I learned eventually, when he was reminded how important it was.” When he had come home to find a cold corpse and Lydia crying in the bathroom. She grit her teeth. There were things she could discuss with humans, but her father really wasn’t one of them. How could they understand when they would put themselves in the shoes of her weak mother, rather than anyone else’s. They would see it as a sin rather than a natural consequence. “I think my father likes the idea of children more than the practicalities, which he forgets every couple decades. He became more interested in spending time with me when I was approaching adulthood. It took a lot of communication, and time, but now we talk several times a month.” Lydia didn’t quite look at Nell as she said that. “Do you resent your mother for her choices?” When the talk turned to dead siblings, Lydia frowned, swallowing as she recalled her recent conversation with Felix, about Bea and necromancy and Lydia’s responses to it. That was another topic she was desperate to steer from.  “Unfortunately, no. The issue with wardens is that they are perfectly crafted for killing us. I’m not a violent person, no one in my family is. We’re all artists. Revenge isn’t something we would normally seek. We wouldn’t stand a chance against a warden, even if they hadn’t destroyed anything that could lead back to them.”

“But you had to forgive him or something, didn’t you? To make it work?” Nell asked, uncertain how the fae had managed to make it work when it came to her family relationships. Had she managed to forget years of resentment? Or did it still live in her- bottled up and pushed aside for the sake of having a father? “Are you glad you talk?” Normally she might not have been so interested in a relative stranger’s emotional state, but if this was what the stupid toy wanted them to do, it’s what they’d have to entertain. Now it was Nell’s turn to look away as mention of her mother surfaced again. She didn’t answer the question directly, perhaps because she wasn’t as sure of the answer as she’d been some months ago. “She took our family from us. Kicked us out of the coven. We can’t even talk to any of them just because we wanted our sister back. And before that it felt like she made it her life’s mission to make me know I was a disappointment.” Nell paused, half-angry and half-sad that she couldn’t simply let her mother go. “But now she said it was to protect us. That she’s done everything for us.” The witch didn’t know how to reconcile those two concepts, nor how to figure out whether or not one outweighed the other. The mention of wardens and violence a conversation Nell was more familiar with, and her shoulders straightened as she spoke again. “But do you want it? The revenge? There are other ways- you could find someone to help.” Nell might even offer to do it herself for the sake of a lost sister. “It doesn’t necessarily have to be too late.”

“I suppose so. He had to forgive me for some things too,” Lydia continued, her jaw tightening for every micrometer of give that the toy gave her. “I’m so glad we’re still talking. We live so long, it can be lonely without family. I do love him, and he loves me.” Lydia forced herself to listen as Nell explained about her own mother, and felt the tiniest sinking feeling of empathy, despite knowing better. Nell’s life was worth less, her issues worth less. She still felt that twinge. “That’s awful. No matter your transgressions, family is family. You can’t just kick each other out because you disagree with their choices.” Her own family hadn’t, but Remmy had. “Sometimes people lie to themselves about their impact. That’s awful. Do you want her back?” Lydia said, rubbing her face in frustration. “How would I find anyone to help for a murder committed twelve years ago?” Lydia sighed, staring at the toy. “I want it more than anything, but deaths from wardens in my family are not rare. We’re not built… others of my species are better at protecting themselves.” She spoke the last bit quietly, looking around the cafe. 

“That makes sense,” Nell nodded as Lydia spoke of their longevity. “I guess family’s really one of the only things that can be constant when you live longer.” But it was still a mystery as to how exactly Lydia had gotten to that point of forgiveness. It would be foolish to think that Nell might find a guide of sorts within them, anyway. Family is family. Lydia’s words caused another prickle of uncertainty to surface in Nell. Did that wisdom go both ways? It was obvious that Lydia meant the words to condemn Nell’s mother, but couldn’t they also be turned around to imply that Nell should forgive her mother? “I don’t know if she even realizes the impact. I don’t know.” That was the only answer she could come up with, uncertainty being the only thing she was sure of when it came to Nisa Vural. “She still won’t talk to us. Not actually. But she did heal me one time when I asked since then.” Nell didn’t know why she was looking for glimmers of hope in a shattered relationship, trying to remind herself that she’d made a promise to herself that she wouldn’t let her mother hurt her again after the coven had been taken from them. And yet...she couldn’t deny the child that still lived on deep within her, longing for her mother’s love and approval despite refusing to acknowledge it. “I just…I’m tired of it all.” She was tired of the way her mother treated her while also being tired of wondering if things could be different. But mostly she was tired of not knowing the answer. Nell only paused a beat before speaking of the warden and their murder once again, thinking the answer to Lydia’s situation obvious. “You know I’m a bounty hunter. A regular one as well as a supernatural one. And with that comes being a pretty good tracker and stuff like that. I could help find them.” A twinge of sympathy made its way through Nell at Lydia’s hunting lamentations, knowing she’d never know what it was to be hunted as thoroughly as someone like the fae were. 

“That’s even harder. At least my father knew what he did and the consequences of it,” Lydia replied, who kept talking about her father even though it was patently not what she wanted to do. “I’m sorry. Parents should have more introspection than their children. It’s her duty to make amends,” Lydia said softly. Nell’s grief resonated too uncomfortably once again. Empathy she didn’t want to feel as strongly as she did. “Certainly an interesting choice of profession,” Lydia saw the opportunity to get a promise. She felt every spore in her lungs tumbling over themselves to get that promise, latch onto it, and watch how it unfolded. As simple as taking candy from a baby. There were just two problems. The first? Lydia did not want any more trouble with the Vurals ever, she had had enough of them for a lifetime. The second was that using this intensely personal moment for personal gain, confessing secrets neither of them wanted to, felt wrong, fundamentally twisting up inside her right next to the uncomfortable empathy she felt for Nell. “I might or might not take you up on that,” she said softly, and the toy popped right off her finger, and Nell’s too. “Oh!” Lydia gasped with relief.

Nell’s own pleasantly surprised sound was drawn from her as the finger trap released them, and the witch instantly flexed her finger, bending it a few times in delight now that it had been released from its prison. “Oh, hell yeah!” It seemed like the more delicate topic of parents and disappointment was quick to melt away now that there was no obligation to speak of them. “Fuck this little toy- I’m burning the damn thing when I get home.” It took another moment for Nell to realize that Lydia had offered a response when it came to searching for her sister’s killer, and the witch’s head tilted curiously to the side. “It doesn’t have to be a favor or anything like that either if you wanted me to help look for the killer. I’m usually good for my word all on its own. Especially for things like this.” But now that she was free and remembering the all too personal things she’d shared with Lydia— Nell was eager to depart. “Just message me or whatever if you have questions about it.”

“That would be wise,” Lydia said, picking up her bag with an awkward closed mouth smile, at first assuming that the moment the trap was gone, their little agreements would be over. Buut Nell made the offer again, clearly enough that Lydia paused, looking the spellcaster over again. She considered it, which surprised Lydia even more. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Lydia said with a smile, pulling her coat close herself. She acted as if she was still unsure, but already, the threads of an idea were beginning to form in her mind. A possibility she had thrown away years ago. She’d play it cool, maybe wait a week, but the temptation was there. If Nell Vural could defy death, what else might she do? “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”