#(its so funny having two muses with the same name)

[ozzgin]

Hello.

Do you think I can request headcanons for Nakamaro ?

Like in an alternate route, reader and him (he's in his twenties because... magic ?) are married and reader is pregnant.

But the funny thing is, Nakamaro can't bully the yokais because reader will exorcise him each time he tries.

Aaaaah I finished writing and only afterwards it occurred to me you might've wanted a modern day reader for this. 😭 I imagined the events in his own timeline. Oh well. I think it can work both ways. Just replace the ancient pouch with, I don't know, a visa card that he throws at your parents for wife payment.

Yandere! Onmyōji x Reader

Yokai Harem AU as the wife of Abe no Nakamaro, a legendary sorcerer and collector of yokai. Although you're not quite as powerless as to not keep his cruelty under control.

Content: female reader, arranged marriage, mentions of pregnancy

[Main Story] [Character Guide]

Your family had vehemently opposed the marriage. To think their one and only daughter would fall into the hands of such a cruel man. The famous Abe no Nakamaro, descendant of Abe no Seimei himself, has quite a contradicting reputation. He has saved many lives, cured countless illnesses, protected villages from monsters and brought peace to the land. Yet many have also witnessed his ruthless nature: the arrogance he has towards humans, the disdain and utter disgust he harbors towards demons. He is quick to punish, rarely forgives, and never forgets. The yokai he’s captured under a binding contract are kept on a leash, like cattle before slaughter.

It is this man who approached your parents one day, when you were still young, demanding your hand. He claimed you had special powers and a lot of potential under the right guidance. Such spiritual prowess would waste away in a family of plebeians. You don’t remember much of the discussion, only the expressions: the man’s mocking grin as he threw a pouch fattened with coins, the frown of your parents who wanted to refuse, the uneasy, grim eyes of the horned demons brought to intimidate. It was clear they were there against their will. One will find just how difficult it is to go against the wishes of the onmyōji, and you happened to be his most ardent desire. Thus, with a heavy heart, you’d been sent away with the stranger who promised you were to live a life of luxury. One your parents could never afford.

True to his word, you have not struggled since. In Akutagawa’s short masterpiece, Hell Screen, artist Yoshihide is wicked and vicious towards everything and everyone except his beloved daughter. Similarly, the sorcerer seems to have a soft spot for you in particular. He often praises your talent, and patiently caters to your whims without complaint. You once inquired about it yourself, as the idea weighed heavily on your mind: why is it that he does not show the same hostility towards you? He stared at you as if you just grew two more heads. "You're my wife. What else is there to question?"

This favoritism, however, is to the benefit of everyone. Especially to the yokai under his command. You've grown rather fond of the demons in your years spent alongside them, and they've quickly learned that your presence means safety from any punishment. Some need reassurance more than others. To these you've even begun to feel like a motherly figure, shielding them from the wrath of an unforgiving master. At last, an authority even Abe no Nakamaro himself can't disobey: the word of his wife.

And soon enough, as if your marriage wasn't already the ultimate argument, you welcome the return of your husband with the news he's always longed for: you are the soon-to-be mother of his child. His name has just been guaranteed to continue its course through time. To say he is elated is an understatement. You've only seen him smile so genuinely once before in your life, on your wedding day.

"Can you imagine the powers this child will command?" He muses, referring most likely to the fact you've both been blessed with an innate, unmatched talent in onmyōdō. You finish rolling the parchment paper and gently tap his head with the scroll in a scolding manner. "You better not burden the kid with your bizarre expectations!" The same man feared throughout the country is chuckling apologetically at your gesture. "As the Mother says."

[tbzhub]

Money Shot

Pairing: photographer!Lee Hyunjae x afab!reader

Summary: a night in with your boyfriend turns into a photoshoot

Warnings: MDNI, smut, marking, fingering, unprotected sex, lots of photos are taken, pet names like twice

Rating / Genre: M, established relationship au, some fluff, smut

WC: 3.6K

Artist Note: this is a little part 2 to this fic: just go fuck him ♥︎ thank you for the love on that story, i'm sorry the title is so misleading alvjbhvxzgfn. i figured i'd revisit these two!

Tagged: @deoboyznet @everykebbie @blizzardfluffykpop

psst i finished it @the-boy-meets-evil

m.list tag list

It’s a wonder how much a person can change in a year or two. 

These days your chest doesn't feel as tight. Your thoughts aren’t as intrusive and insecurity visits you infrequently. The smiles that grace your lips are genuine– often prompted by the joy that's found its way into the tight confines of your heart. 

With each passing day, came a further understanding of what it meant to live. To experience the world with an abundance of love intertwined with your being. 

Hyunjae wouldn’t agree, but he made all the difference. You are far more vibrant now; confident, social, witty. Being deeply in love brought out a version of yourself that was content and yet utterly fearless. 

There’s peace, both in knowing someone has seen the harshest parts of you and that they still love you just the same. 

Hyunjae gave you the space to be yourself– to show up however you were able to on any given day. With you, he was gentle and understanding in a way that’s reserved for people who care. 

Dating him meant never having doubt– not when he made every day feel like a gift. It was easy to smile with him around. He was funny without trying and hilarious in times when laughter was needed most. His spontaneity took some getting used to, but only because you were a homebody. Now, you look forward to the days you spend with him, enamored by Hyunjae’s innate ability to make every moment memorable. He saw the world in a way that left you inspired. Through his photography, he taught you that beauty was found in the most unlikely places.  Like at a run-down flea market during sunset, or while walking past a vacant flower stand on a late night– the florist long gone after an honest day’s work. Overexposed shots of your hair dancing in the wind as you slump in front of a fan, trying to survive in the summer heat. 

He was always taking pictures of you. Initially– you hated it. You’d go shy or tense up when you saw him bring out a camera, on high alert when he brought out his phone. But over time, you appreciated it. Being his muse– being able to see yourself the way he saw you– helped you in areas that you hadn't realized needed assistance. Through your days in front of the lens, you've learned that you have a brilliant smile. That your hair harbored a different tone in the wake of a setting sun. Sometimes you’d catch yourself anticipating the camera on days when you knew you looked your best, growing confident as more time passed with him by your side.

Now, more than anything else– you both are beyond comfortable and obsessed with one another. Your ears perk up when you hear the bedroom door creak open and the way you immediately step out of the bathroom to greet Hyunjae with a face covered in skin care products proves the aforementioned sentiment.

Coming over to kiss him sweetly, you briefly melt into his firm arms and as you lean back you swipe your thumb over the gray dot of mud mask that sticks to his nose with a chuckle.

“Aww…” Hyunjae coos, taking in your spa headband and the little strip across your nose. 

“No…” you groan, shielding your face away from him and his predictable nature.

“But you look so cute, right now.” He whines, peeking from behind the camera while his fingers hover over the button.

“No, I don’t. I look like the moon emoji” you mumble back.

“What do you mean? Hyunjae asks, looking at you with a clueless squint.

“You know, the one that’s like…”  you give a side glance to look more like the little gray icon.

There’s a small flash of light as the shutter clicks and Hyunjae chuckles as he looks at the tiny screen while you stand stunned that he tricked you so easily. You playfully push him in response, causing him to laugh harder and you can’t help but join him, finding his antics funny. 

You kiss him on the cheek before heading towards the bathroom. 

“I’ll be right back.” You announce with your back turned. “Don’t miss me too much,” Hyujnae calls out absentmindedly, eyes fixed on the camera in his hands and you smile at the remark as you walk onto the cool tile floor.

You come back to him with a washed face and a silly smile embossed into your pretty features. Bounding onto the bed, you allow Hyunjae to tug you into his arms. He peppers you with kisses, lips smacking against yours a couple of times until he’s pulled a wide smile and a few giggles out of you. 

“Wait– stay right there,” he says and you groan but your smile only grows wider.

“Don’t you get tired of taking pictures of me?” You ask, looking him over in amusement as you honor his instructions, holding your current angle. “Nope,” he replies, twisting in his spot to grab his polaroid camera. “Maybe when you have a hot girlfriend, you’ll understand.” He jokes, sending you a flirtatious look over the top of the camera while his finger turns the camera on with muscle memory.

Your laugh is accompanied by the roll of your eyes. Hyunjae presses the shutter and you ready yourself for the flash, relaxing thereafter as the camera goes to work.

The whirring of the film getting developed halts your joking, Hyunjae carefully plucks the film out and shakes it in his hand gently once it pops out of the top of the camera.

Falling further into the comfort of his pillows, you smile up at Hyunjae, observing the way he looks at the picture. His eyes were soft as he swept over the image, the arches of his cheeks raising slowly as a smile blossomed on his lips. For whatever reason the sight struck a chord within you.

“You really think I’m beautiful, don't you?” You voice the thought without realizing it, not until Hyunjae’s gaze shifts to you and you're taking in the sincerity in his eyes as he speaks. 

“Of course.”

He doesn’t say anything else and you didn't need him to. Not when he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that exists in the world. The only thing worth gazing upon. His hand trails its way into your hair and you look into the lens again, relaxing under Hyunjae’s touch as the shutter clicks again. You shift slightly on the bed as Hyunjae inspects the second polaroid the same way as he did the first. He puts the two pictures on the nightstand for safekeeping before leaning down to kiss you on the lips. 

With your arms looped around Hyunjae’s neck, you steal more kisses off his lips until he drops the camera onto the bed and climbs on top of you. The kiss deepens as one of his hands roams down to grab at your waist and pulls your body closer to his while he props himself up to keep from crushing you with the other. He lingers on your lips, pressure changing from soft and teasing to hard and wanting once you wrap your leg around his hip.

You stay like that long enough for your heart to mimic the rapid thud of Hyunjae’s heart rate.

When Hyunjae pulls away from the kiss you’re left wanting more, grabbing at his shirt in an attempt to bring him back but you stop when you notice what he’s doing.

He hovers above you with a polaroid camera in hand. “Just one more. Your lips look perfect,’ he murmurs as he lines up the shot and you lick your kiss bruised lips before giving bedroom eyes to Hyunjae through the lens. You hear the sound of the camera going off and the flash follows before the whirring begins. You watch patiently as he studies the picture with a smirk on his lips. His hand moves smoothly up and down your bare thigh as his gaze flits across the film. 

It was hot seeing him like this, so obviously turned by what he’s doing– by you.

His hand comes up to caress your neck before falling lower, squeezing your chest over the thin fabric of your tank top and you pick up on how he bites his lip before finally tearing his eyes away and placing the picture to the side with the others.

“Wanna take more?” You ask, gingerly tiptoeing into uncharted territory. “I mean… I’d be down?” You suggest lightly while looking up at Hyunjae’s face. His expressions bounce between confusion and surprise before settling on mirth and something else indescribable.

“Yeah?” He asks for confirmation, his voice suddenly low and velvety.

As you nod your head yes, you wrap your fingers around Hyunjae’s wrist and guide his hand down to rest at the hem of your top. 

His hand scrunches up the fabric, exposing most of your stomach as he dips down low to meld his mouth with yours hotly. He kisses you slowly, taking his time with you in a way that you’ve never experienced with him before. His hand slides up further, delicately cupping your chest as he sighs against your lips. The sharp sting of Hyunjae’s fingers digging into your skin sends a shock to your center and your lips part in a soft moan in response. His tongue brushes against the tip of yours tenderly as your skin pebbles under his touch. 

The kiss remains slow as he savors every last second of having you like this, nibbling on your lower lip before sucking the tender spot and kissing you hungrily. You lay slack underneath him, body and mind being led by the pleasure he pours into you with his sinful lips. 

Your back arches as he lifts your tank top up further, pulling the garment over your shoulders. Hyunjae’s hands fall onto either side of your cheeks, holding your face in place as he presses his lips onto yours firmly and warmth floods your chest. His hands travel down your neck and sweep across your shoulders as he drags his lips along your jawline. He continues his descent until he reaches a particular spot on your neck that makes you bite back a loud whimper. He sucks the sensitive area while you squirm underneath him with your eyes half closed. You shake out a soft moan, bliss surging up your spine as he moves to another spot on your neck.

He sucks mark after mark into your skin until you're nearly trembling and soaking wet with need. Your shoulders and neck are covered in splotches of deep reddish and purple hues that you can’t fully see but the look on Hyunjae’s face as he leans back tells you that look to die for. He drinks you in with a lust-clouded gaze, looking you up and down a few times before reaching out for his camera.

“Fuck– you look perfect like this…” he praises, voice imbued in admiration and want. He lines up the shot, standing on his knees above you and you can see just how much he’s into this.

You reply with a moan and glance up, giving the camera a heated look before the camera flashes. His hand comes into the next shot as he wraps his fingers around your slender neck. You catch his dick twitching in his sweats as he takes a second picture with you posed like this. Hyunjae doesn't wait for the film to come out before casting the camera to the side. He yanks at your shorts and underwear, pulling them off of you quickly with your help. You spread your legs wide for him while he works his way out of his clothes. He’s back on you hot and heavy the minute his cock is free, settling between your legs as he devours you with an intense gaze, tracing your form lustfully. 

“Eyes on me, okay?” He orders softly, smoothing a hand over your bent knee lovingly as the other snakes its way up your thigh, leaving behind a sweltering tingle that lingers on your skin. 

His fingers sink into your wet heat and a sultry moan rings through his bedroom. Hyunjae rocks his palm back and forth, two fingers curled upwards against the soft walls of your pussy. You coat the digits, eliciting the sloppiest noises that you’ve ever heard from your wet cunt but you couldn’t be bothered to be ashamed about that in the wake of what he’d just put your neck and shoulders through. 

He picks up the pace and your legs fall open further as a long sigh leaves your chest. You obediently keep your eyes open, trained on Hyunjae while he works you over. The look you share is a charged one as he fucks you with his fingers, his determined gaze contrasting your unbridled blissed-out state. Your swollen lips part as you pant his name, pleading for him not to stop.

Hyunjae blindly grabs ahold of his camera, never stopping the steady rhythm of his deft fingers urging you dangerously close to an orgasm. Your toes curl and your legs tremble as he readies the camera. He lifts it until he’s got the right angle. His biceps strain and sweat trickles down his arms as he pumps his digits in and out of you while rubbing your bud rhythmically. His arm is getting tired but he waits… and waits, finger resting just above the shutter as he waits for the right moment. The one where your face scrunches up and your pussy tries to choke his fingers. He fingers you with just the right amount of pressure to grow the feeling inside you until it bursts–

The shutter goes off and a flash brightens the room.

You toss and turn as you cum all over Hyunjae’s fingers, moaning loudly as he fucks you through it. Gradually his pace slows just enough to gently bring you down from your peak. His fingers slip out of your sloppy folds and he licks them clean without a second thought before retrieving the polaroid from its slot. 

You shiver through the aftershocks of your high while you come down further. “How’d it turn out?” You ask, still breathless. Hyunjae looks over to you with dark eyes and you swallow under the passion in his gaze.

“Unreal,” he replies through a husky tone before setting that picture down beside the others. He climbs back on top of you, kissing you repeatedly as he lays his warm body flush with yours. Your legs tangle with his while you make out and your dainty hands mess up his hair as you roll on top of him in bed. You straddle his hips in haste, desperate to ride him but he clamps his strong hands around your waist freezing you in place.

“There's a shot that I want to get,” he hesitantly admits. 

You look down at him with an endeared smile. You knew him well enough to know what he wanted. He always say you look so pretty sucking him off. “Okay, baby,” you say, shuffling down the bed until your lips are inches away from his cock. 

Hyunjae groans, tilting his head back into the pillows as you take him past your lips. You don’t tease, dipping your head forward to ease more of his cock into your mouth while your tongue glides down his length. Your lips tighten around him, sucking in on your way up and swallowing around the head before gliding down again.

“Fuck–

You grind your nose into his pelvis when he reaches the back of your throat and you feel him squirm in bed. You let up again, going slow as you cover his entire cock in your spit. Hyunjae fists the bedsheets and hisses at the sight of you–  his cock, dripping with the attention that you’ve lavished it with, tucked between your plush dewy lips. You sink his cock into your mouth again, moaning as you sense him preparing to snap another picture of you. 

Your eyes begin to water as you take him to the back of your throat a few more times, looking up at Hyunjae just in time to hear the shutter go off again. You close your eyes and hum, sending another shiver of vibrations down his cock as he tries to check out the picture.

All you hear is shallow gasps for a while as Hyunjae holds the polaroid up to his face, coaxing you up and down his length with his other hand.

“This one is golden,” he rasps, voice ragged and thick with pleasure as he bobs you up and down his cock for a bit longer, entranced by how sexy your eyes look in the picture. You suck harder, swirling your tongue around before Hyunjae gently pulls you off of him by your hair.

“Let me see?” You ask, sitting up and straddling his lap as he places that picture to join the rest.

He just shakes his head. “We have to round out the set first,” Hyunjae teases, hands going to rest at your hips as he lines you up with his stiff cock. Placing your hands behind you on his toned thighs as you lift your hips, angling them to catch his cock between your wet folds before you lower yourself onto him. You sit on his cock in one fluid motion and sigh. He feels so good– the sweet slide against your walls as you’re filled making your head spin. You rock forward, leaning back against your arms for leverage while you rock back, savoring his thick cock pressed against you. You raise your hips and drop back down, moaning at the feel of his cock teasing your needy cunt. 

You circle your hips while you bounce in his lap, slamming your hips down harder with every motion. Your head tilts back as you ride him, so satisfied yet so greedy for more, hips beginning to roll faster. Hyunjae tightens his hold on you before matching your thrusts, sending his cock as deep as possible causing you to cry out in abandon. You bounce faster, breathing ragged as you start to work up a sweat, a sheen covering your stomach and thighs. Your skin slaps against Hyunjae’s as you move in sync, connected as one as your bodies heat up.

His fingertips press into your skin, as he takes control, lifting you up and down with only the strength in his arms. Hyunjae fucks you nice and slow, dropping you down on his cock and sliding you off so you feel every inch of him leave your insides.

“Fuck Jae,” you moan, core aching for release just when he’s decided to slow things down.

“Sorry, sweetheart. You look so good like this. I don’t wanna rush,” he whispers, licking his bottom lip as he looks up at you– still dragging you up and down his cock like you weighed practically nothing.

He doesn’t forget the camera, reaching for it with one hand while you take over once more. You slide down nice and slow before raising your hips, pausing at the top when he tells you to.

“You look fucking incredible, baby.” He says as he takes the last shot.

The shutter clicks and you carefully push the camera out of Hyunjae’s hands, feverishly crashing your lips into his a second later. He immediately falls in line, kissing you and giving you exactly what you’ve been waiting for. His arms circle your back as he holds you close and pounds into you. 

You gasp and writhe, taking all that Hyunjae gives you as your thighs give out. 

Pleasure and fatigue build, and build within you, threatening to overflow as he continues his onslaught on your pussy. He snaps his hips into you with unprecedented strength, and thrusts rough and careless, eliciting nothing but filthy sounds out of you.

His pace picks up, strokes falling out of rhythm as he chases his climax. 

The steady push and pull of his cock filling you up crowds your senses. Your mind goes hazy as you focus on how good Hyunjae makes you feel every time. Pushing your body to places that you didn’t think it could go. You clench around him as another huge orgasm shuts down your body.

When you finally come to your senses, you notice that you're sore and covered in sweat. You feel kind of gross, but there's nothing that could make you abandon your place on Hyunjae’s chest right now. 

You’re so tired that when you try to speak, your words come out as syllables abstractly strung together. The last thing you’re aware of is Hyunjae’s cool lips pressed against your forehead as you drift off to sleep.

-

In the morning, you wake up sore. The marks that litter your neck and shoulders are a little tender and you feel like you did 200 sit-ups and 300 squats right before bed. 

Hyunjae wasn't around, but you weren’t surprised by that– he never missed catching the sunrise at dawn.

As you sit up in bed, the stack of polaroids from last night catches your eye and you leap out of bed to sift through them all. The first photo is so innocent that you chuckle, knowing where the night led you. You glance through the rest, cheeks heating up at how bold you are in front of the camera. 

You flip to the last picture in the stack and can’t help but swoon. You set the stack down, covering the unfiltered pictures with the one of Hyunjae kissing you on your forehead while you were fast asleep.

[dixonsdarkelf]

She’s Got Your Eyes: Murphy MacManus & Fem!Reader

Main masterlist Murphy x Reader Masterlist AO3 link

I thought Tumblr needed some Dad!Murphy, so for my first Murphy fic, I took it upon myself to make it happen! Constructive criticism is appreciate and okay, but please be gentle or I’ll cry. I hope y’all love my take on brand-new dad!Murphy 🖤

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 629

Warnings: Pregnancy stuff, mentions of breastfeeding, Reader has a uterus and just gave birth, barely proofread (not the norm for me lol)

The moment you and Murphy first laid eyes on each other on that faithful December eve at McGinty’s, it was love at first sight. There was an unspoken connection between you two, and that one encounter morphed from texting to phone calls to dates and more.

That night felt like a lifetime ago. Now, hundreds of kisses, many late nights, and one wedding-of-the-century later, you were in the delivery room, having just welcomed your first child—a beautiful, healthy baby girl—into the world. Together, you chose the name Myrna Isabella Murphy, Myrna meaning “affection or endearment” and Isabella meaning “pledged to God.”

Both of your families had already come by to say hi, each one seemingly more excited than the last. Conner was a mess, doing his best to keep it together for the sake of you two. However, he was so enamored by his new niece, with her big eyes staring up at him, he nearly broke down while holding her. But no one could compete with the amount of tears shed by you & your husband.

Now, it was just the three of you, basking in the afterglow of a long and intense labor. Murphy was in the arm chair, cradling your daughter to give you some space after feeding.

“Hi sweetheart,” he cooed as he adjusted the blanket around her. The words sounded even sweeter with that accent dripping off of them.

You couldn’t help but smile at him, the man you’d fallen in love with all those years ago, and the soft noises emanating from the little baby in his arms. Despite all the pain you’d just gone through, everything about this moment was perfect, and it was like you were falling in love all over again.

“She’s got your eyes,” he commented, breaking his gaze from Myrna for just a moment to meet yours, “got that same sparkle yours has.”

“She’s got your nose,” you mused, your infectious giggle lacing every word. The warmth spreading through your chest as you watched him with your daughter was unlike anything you’d felt before. “We did good.”

He cocked an eyebrow as he stood, rocking Myrna in his arms as he held her to his chest. “We? You did all the work, lass.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.” Your voice was soft, silky, a ‘thank you’ all on its own without even having to utter the words.

“Quite literally,” he chuckled, a playful smirk appearing on his face.

“You’re funny,” you remarked as he gently said on the edge of the bed by you, “I meant the day-to-day stuff, doting on me for the last nine months. Not to mention all the doctor’s appointments.”

“It’s nothin’, you know that.” He propped Myrna up with his hand, taking one of yours in the other. “Would’ve done anythin’ you asked.”

“I know.” You gave him hand a gentle squeeze, which he returned. The smiles on your faces was enough to light the entire city of Boston. “Thank you, baby. For everything.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he replied, nodding toward the little one, “for her.”

You were sure you’d run out of tears before that, but your body and mind had other plans. They began streaming down your face again, catching in your hair, your mouth, your gown. But you didn’t mind one bit. “I love you, Murph.”

He wiped a stream of tears from your cheek, cradling Myrna tight against him before leaning over to kiss your forehead. It was tender, sweet, and full of adoration, just like it always was. But there was more this time. There was all of those feelings for you, but also for his daughter. And a gratitude to you for giving him the best gift he could ever receive. “Love you more, lass.”

General taglist: @raddydaddydude @lovenormandixon @angeldemoncrowley @negansbestie @holdmytesseract @dixons-sunshine

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GIF, 'continue reading' divider and © message below were created by me. Three-heart divider was created by @/enchanthings.

[nnight-dances]

SWEET BOY

PAIRING: lee seokmin x f!reader (ft. choi vernon)

GENRE: fluff, angst

TROPES: older brother figure to lover, childhood friends to lovers, coworkers to lovers, jealousy, skinship, dk being a blushy idiot and you being a plain idiot.

lines are funny when it comes to your life. lines drawn from one point to another, lines forced to keep your work life and your personal life, but most important the big daunting line between you and your crush of nearly two years now, dokyeom. 

it's funny, it really is, given how much time you've spent riling yourself up over him, telling yourself that he should retain the role he always had in your life: the older brother figure. because dokyeom's heart-warmingly kind, no even more so– blood-curdingly kind, painfully nice to everyone he meets, patient beyond imagination. he's worse than any nice guys you've met, simply because he fits the archetype too well to be real. 

"don't you get tired?" you ask him, when he shows up at your door, clutching bags of take-out food, no doubt after hearing from your mom how you haven't had a chance to eat. yet, you'd emphasized to her after you'd made the mistake of letting her know you were too busy to cook. 

"shouldn't i be asking you that?" dokyeom grunts as he lets himself into your house, familiar with the place like the back of his hand. "i know mr. ko called you in and gave you an earful for missing the last deadline, but that's no excuse to skip meals."

okay, worth mentioning is the fact that while you knew dokyeom since childhood thanks to the fact that you grew up in the same household, you'd also ended up moving to the city to sign a contract with the publishing company where he worked at, as an editor. it was half a coincidence, because you can't say you sought out the company simply on its merits. 

you sigh as you stretch out a crick in your neck, "i'm not doing this because mr. ko told me to. i'm fine, i'm just trying to clear up my schedule before the end of the year. god knows i don't want to be working on new year's eve."

"and you won't," dokyeom takes off his coat, revealing a light blue sweater underneath, one that you've grown fond of. it's a sweet sweater, for a sweet man. 

"well, thanks, anyway. for the food. sorry if my mom pestered you into doing this."

"i don't want to hear a word out of you till you've eaten."

you obey him silently, taking out the lukewarm bánh mì from its bag and starting to eat. dokyeom watches with a slight smile, noting how your hair was in a ponytail, a rare occurrence. just another indication that you were forcing yourself to work too hard. 

"what am i going to with you…" he muses to himself, slowly tidying up the mess on your writing corner. the little wooden table you'd spent hours studying and testing before buying, is crowded with stationery and a few notebooks. your laptop sits blank, screen indicating that it was close to dying. dokyeom brushes off the stray balls of napkins off and into the small trashcan next to the chair, followed by all the tiny eraser dust particles. he's just plugged in your laptop when he hears you call out his name softly. 

"hmm?" he calls back. "you want some coffee?" you ask and when dokyeom arches a brow at you, you wave your empty hands, "i'm done eating! can a girl not want a warm liquid post-meal?"

"fine, fine. i'll have some, thanks." he laughs as you glare at him, mumbling incoherencies about him. 

"oh, right, i almost forgot to tell you," dokyeom pulls out his phone, ten minutes later when the two of you are settled on the couch, waiting for your steaming mugs to settle down a little. "there's a department-wide party this sunday, an end of year gathering or something. you should come, i hear the budget this year's crazy. it's at a fancy hotel and everything."

you narrow your eyes at dokyeom, "i don't know about that. work parties are a slog, dude. i can't stand to get drunk with the people who literally torture the creativity out of me."

"that's harsh, y/n. and an exaggeration."

"whatever…" you fiddle with the sleeves of your sweatshirt, "i… i don't even have a date. it's kind of a short notice to find someone anyway–"

"i'll be your date," dokyeom offers, faster than either of you could comprehend his response. his ears flush, "um, i mean, i'll go with you, if you don't… mind."

"why would i mind? i just thought you'd have someone to go with already," you say and when you catch the shy look on your friend's face, "unless of course, nobody's asked you. which i totally understand."

"hey! i don't want to take names but i've had to tell some people no already. so don't–"

"oh? so you rejected the people who did ask you? i thought you were too nice to do that. "

"yeah, i did. i didn't want to go with them. i don't know them well enough to guarantee they'll be fun for the entire night. plus, it's messy going with someone from work. you agree once, who's to say they'll keep asking you for life?"

"i'm someone from work, too," you point out, averting your gaze to the coffee, watching the evaporation swirl around. 

"you're different, silly," dokyeom chuckles out, arm hitting yours, "we're already messy. i knew you before work, and i'll know you long after. we're more than that, you know?"

that? whatever he meant, you find your heart soaring ever so much, "hm, i suppose you're not wrong. fine, i'll come to the party." if it's with you. 

that night you find yourself obsessing over this conversation. what did dk mean we're already messy? you were messy? you knew he didn't mean that like a bad thing but the word unsettled you anyway. your feelings for him only made it harder to listen to him objectively, especially when he says stuff like we're more than that. more than what, exactly?

– 

dokyeom's having a hell of a day, carrying around a headache he's had since this morning and a heavy to-do list that doesn't seem to be going anywhere despite the fact that he's been at his desk for about five hours now. he sits back with a grunt, taking his eyes off his screen for a moment to take a break. 

as soon as he tunes back into the physical world around him, he overhears his coworkers chatting near his desk, instant coffeee in hand. 

"yo, you're kidding! how'd you get her number finally?" ren, a newbie, elbows the man next to him. vernon, the man in question, is grinning too wide for his own good. 

"i just asked her for it. i told her i had some important doubts about her new manuscript."

"that didn't annoy her?"

"nah, y/n's chill like that. she was super nice about it, too, telling me she would love to hear from me."

ren gasps dramatically, "no way, do you think she–"

dokyeom clears his throat with a start, having had enough as an eavesdropper for the day. he stands up, making eye-contact with vernon who shoots him a nonchalant smile. it pisses dokyeom off, how wasn't he bothered? 

his headache's only getting worse so he decides to get himself something to eat while he's at it. some fresh air might help him. he shoots the pair a stiff smile as he leaves the office, hand clutching his phone a little too hard. as he gets into the elevator, he's alerted of a message.

speak of the devil, he thinks when your name pops up on his screen. am i expected to dress formal for this party? you ask. 

only if u want to :) he shoots back.

… what kind of an answer is that. 

an honest one. expectations are only as high as you want them to be.

you know i hate you right 

enough to ask me to be ur date? <3 <3 

you're befuddled on the other side of the chat, "who asked who?" you mumble, choosing to not respond to dokyeom's frustrating reply to your very genuine question. 

dokyeom, on the other hand, is feeling much better now that he's had a chance to talk to you. where you're reserved about your feelings for him, dokyeom really couldn't be more transparent about them. or so he thinks. but really, he's convinced he couldn't be clearer about how he feels about you– instantaneous responses to your texts, making sure you eat on time, corresponding with your mom to reassure her of your good health, careful attention to what you're into at the time so he can buy you the things you refuse to splurge on. 

to dokyeom, this was the clearest confession of his love for you. the only reason he hasn't vocalized it in person is because he doubts any good would come out of it. he's more than happy with the relationship he has with you, a safe enough distance but a warm closeness anyway. besides, he's pretty certain you think of him as more of a brother than anything. an older brother figure you've known since you were children. better to keep things the way they were. right?

– 

dokyeom's increasily unsure about his convictions to keep things the same. maybe it had something to do with the fact that you look breathtaking tonight. you're adorned in the prettiest pink dress, eyes sparkling more than usual thanks to the glitter you'd dabbed on and hair cascading down to your shoulders in curls that has him a little weak in the knees.

he does visibly gape at you when you greet him at the door with a small smile. he's flustered enough to be out of words so you're left speaking to a shell of him. "hey, you're a little earlier than i imagined. i'm almost ready. come in though." 

when he stands still despite your invitation, you frown. "dokyeom?" he bites his lip as he comes to and nods, walking in after you. "you good?"

"yeah, just a little nervous."

"nervous?" 

"you look really pretty," he musters, reddening when your eyes widen at his honest confession, "i'm a little dizzy." the two statements are correlated but you don't pick up on that, instead becomes concerned. you take his arm and your cold touch on his arm only sends him further down his dazed condition.

"dizzy? that's no good. come sit," you pull him to the couch, making him take a seat. god, dokyeom thinks he's dreaming when you touch his cheek, "do you need medicine? warm tea? water?"

he clears his throat, "n-no, i'm fine," he lets himself fall against the cushions, closing his eyes against the rush in his veins. "just– you should go get ready. i'll be back to normal soon."

you look at him in confusion for a prolonged few seconds before giving up and doing as he said. when you come back, you have a lip gloss and heels on. "okay," you announce to the back of dokyeom's head, "i'm ready, dk."

he sits up quickly, head clearing up now. he turns around to you and smiles a cheerful smile that is much more like him. "alright! let's go!" 

you watch him warily anyway, all the way to his car. "ah, your hair–" you reach out to the back of his head where some hair stuck out from his earlier meltdown. gently, you brush the disturbances away, fingers swift in their adminstrations. dokyeom thinks he might break down again, the gesture making him feel giddy all over again. it doesn't help when he feels your warm breath on his neck when you sigh, returning to your seat. "ok, no more hair casualities, we are set to go."

dokyeom can't afford to look up at you so he simply starts the car, keeping his head straight so he can drive the both of you to the venue safely. 

being in a room bustling with people he knows really helps dokyeom, for as soon as you reach the hall, he takes off in a rush, something about having to greet everyone that's important. you don't know to feel about his flight but you manage to shrug it off, trusting him enough to know he'll be back before long. 

you station yourself near the refreshments, finding yourself a flute of champagne and some hors d'oeuvres to keep you company while dokyeom does what he does. you find yourself mildly enjoying yourself, people-watching all sorts of groups and downing your second serving of champagne, when you're joined by someone. 

it's kitty, a coworker you're less than fond of, thanks to her loud mouth and overwhelming beauty. she's dressed in an immaculate white dress, face glowing even in the harsh light as she smiles at you. "y/n!"

"kitty," you acknowledge her with a cordial nod of your own, hoping this wouldn't take too long.

"how've you been? you look much better than the last time i saw, so not too bad i hope!"

your smile sours, "i'm fine, kitty. nice to see you're feeling as chatty as usual." 

"i am! what better ocassion than a party to be social," she remarks pointedly and you contain a sigh. kitty was an important coworker, unfortunately for you, with her in charge for your public image and general likeability. it really should be criminal how little she likes you for someone who has to make sure you appeal to the masses. 

"i didn't even think i'd see you around. you have a date?"

"i'm here with dokyeom, yeah." 

this seems to startle kitty, because she's speechless for a moment. "dokyeom? he said yes to you?"

ignoring whatever undertones of disbelief kitty's giving off, you roll your eyes, "it was more that he forced me to come with him, but yeah, sure, however you wanna say it." 

"wow, dokyeom's really kind to do that. he even turned me down. he must really treasure your friendship."

now you've had enough of her insinuations, so you cut the chat short. "sorry, kitty, i need to use the bathroom. excuse me." 

you break away from her, feeling the weight of her glare at your aloofness. you really don't care for her snarky remarks usual, long-accustomed to the kind of gossip she likes to generate. but tonight, your tolerance was low. you didn't want to think about why dokyeom asked you to come to the party, and you certainly didn't want kitty's suggestions marinate in your mind. but it's too late, you feel your chest tighten at the thought of dokyeom feeling pity for you, asking you to come because that's just how kind he was, and you, his best charity case. 

dokyeom spots you from across the room where he's eventually recovered from his weak condition. he feels guilt spike through his veins when he sees you storm away from kitty, who's no doubt spewed some obnoxious nonsense to make you leave the room with that tense expression of yours.

he excuses himself from his conversation to run off after you, managing to catch you as you leave the hall. 

"y/n!" he calls out, catching ahold of your shoulder. "where are you going?" 

you stop, startled by dokyeom's interception. you slowly turn around, trying your best to neutralize your expression. "um, just using the bathroom. i drank that champagne a little too fast." 

"oh, you sure you're okay? i saw you talking to kitty earlier and i know how frustrating she can be."

you laugh mirthlessly, "i'll be okay as long as i don't run into her in the next five months or so." you turn away, presumably toward the washroom. you'd hoped your explanation would be enough to soothe dokyeom's curiosity but then you hear him follow after you. 

"dk?"

"i'll go with you."

"to the washroom?" 

"uh, yeah. i'll walk you in case you can't find your way back."

"they have signs everywhere and the party's in the biggest hall here– i– whatever, i need to pee too bad to argue with you right now." 

from thereon, dokyeom doesn't leave your side for a second. you don't know what to think of it but you don't complain because your mood's much better when you spend your time by his side, shitting on the ocassional passerby and laughing at each other's jokes. 

dokyeom regrets leaving you by yourself in the first place, especially because he's almost too certain that kitty had told you he'd turned her invitation down. it was awkward to even look at her, let alone talk to her. but then again, she's never been one to care about other people's comfort because about halfway into the night, you spot her trailing back to your table with a few people following her. 

the group crowds your table and you find yourself pressed against a stranger who no doubt works with kitty. he shoots you a sleazy smile and you're grateful when you feel dokyeom subtly pull you closer toward him with a hand around your waist. what you don't expect is him to leave him arm there, draped down your back, finger resting against the small of lower back, sending chills up your spine.

"hey, you two! what're you upto, you've been stuck to this table for the entire night," kitty laughs. 

dokyeom notices vernon among the group, much to his chagrin, smiling at you boyishly. you wave back at vernon with a soft chuckle, thankful that not everyone in this crowd was a snoozefest. 

"just talking," is dokyeom's curt response. "are y'all enjoying the party?" he adresses the larger group, making it a point to not look at kitty. 

"i wish there was more real food," someones pipes in with a grunt and people laugh in agreement. 

"the wine's really good though. expensive stuff," vernon points out, looking at the wine glass propped between you and dokyeom. 

"yeah, it's maybe the best thing about this party," you chime in with a smile. before dokyeom can somehow bring up the fact that he'd been drinking out of the same glass as you, ren gasps out loud, "oh my god, guys, the mistletoe man's back!"

you look around in confusion and find a man dressed in green overalls walking around with some mistletoe stuck his chest, neatly tied with a red ribbon stuck to his chest. "the fuck?" you mumble out and dokyeom laughs at your bewilderment. "it's a stupid tradition," dokyeom says softly to you, "heard someone say it's to foster closer connections between workers."

"by forcing them to kiss?" you whisper back with a grimace as you watch a pair break away from their kiss with bitter expressions. it's fine though because they look at each other's disgust and break into laughter, their table cheering them on. 

"i think it's cute!" kitty remarks, watching the man as he turns around from a few tables over.

"shit, i think he's coming over here," ren curses. "why's that a bad thing?" kitty questions, smiling, eyes glued to the side of dokyeom's face. you might gouge your eyes out one of these days. you're too busy ignoring the ruckus kitty's causing with her frantic giggles as the mistetoe man approaches her. but then he goes past her and she goes silent, eyes coming to still behind you. that's when you realize the mistletoe man's standing square between you and dokyeom. 

you turn around to the man with wide eyes but he simply smiles, "the mistletoe man knows when he sees two lovers!" you don't know what he means till you become aware of dokyeom's arm around you. he pulls away in surprise and his face is red when you look up at dokyeom. 

"this is stupid," you murmur, hoping he'll agree and you wouldn't have to participate in this tradition.

"kiss! kiss! kiss!" ren starts a chant and everyone but kitty and vernon is quick to join in. dokyeom looks bewildered at the unison, and he looks at you, then down at your lips. "we don't have to do this," he comforts you.

"do you want to?" you ask him under your breath. you feel yourself flushing. 

"i'll do it if you want to."

you hate how agreeable dokyeom is sometimes, wishing he would decide for you, for this once. you don't want to think about all the eyes on you, the whispering that's no doubt been reignited. everyone knows you and dokyeom have been friends and maybe something more for years now, but to witness conclusive proof is thrilling to them. 

you feel frozen with the weight of the decision upon you. but then kitty opens her stupid mouth, "ah, dokyeomie, you don't have to do something you don't want to–" 

that spurs you on, you find yourself pressing yourself against dokyeom, raising yourself to his height so you can press your lips to his. he meets you halfway, as if he'd been waiting for you to do exactly this, his large hand finding your cheek so he can seal the deal. 

this goes without saying, you've never kissed dokyeom before, but the way it feels so natural has you questioning if this really was the first time. his lips are pillowy against yourself, his breath hitting your face sweetly when you finally pull away. his eyes are hooded like you've never seen them and you really wish you could memorize this feeling, ingrain it into your mind for later. 

but the moment breaks when you hear the table around you erupt with all kinds of reactions. you don't care to look though, too busy with your own reaction to handle. your heart's fluttering but your eyes feel watery when you pull away from dokyeom. you don't know what to think of all the lines you've been worrying about, the line between you and dokyeom cracking the moment you leaned into his lips. 

–

dokyeom's scared for his life right now. after the chaos around you settled a little, you'd looked at him and quietly asked if he could drive you home right now. he'd been quick to agree, following you out of the door without bidding anyone goodbye. but you're silent the entire walk to his car, not answering him when he asks if you're okay. 

now that you're settled in the car, he pauses before starting the engine. "y/n," he starts softly. you focus on your breathing, staring down at your hands blankly. "i'm sorry."

this makes you look up at him, mouth slightly ajar. "...why are you sorry?" you ask quietly, lips set in a narrow line.

"i– that must have made you uncomfortable. i didn't know what else to–"

"i was the one who kissed you," you comment, looking away and out the window, hands now fists in your lap. dokyeom watches as you tuck some stray strands of hair behind your ear, "i should be sorry."

should be, because you weren't a bit sorry about the kiss. the circumstances that caused it? sure. but the kiss itself wasn't something you would undo. 

dokyeom doesn't know what to say because there's so much to say. where does he even start? "i thought you always saw me as a… brother." 

"what?" your eyes hold a sea of disbelief in them but then as you blink back at a solemn dokyeom, you think it's not that crazy for him to think that after all. "well, i used to. how could i not? mom had drilled it into my system to rely on you like you were family."

dokyeom hums, "...and?"

"i mean, i clearly don't think… i don't have the feelings of a sister toward you," you mumble, your cheeks on fire when you hear your poor phrasing. "if i did, it would be a problem that i wanted to kiss back there."

"you did?" dokyeom gapes and you look at him with a slight tilt of your head. "i– obviously!" you tell him. 

he swallows, "wow. i don't even know what to think–" it's his turn to look at his hands that are trembling, "honest to god, i've never harboured anything but romantic feelings for you, y/n." he says this, head lowered as if in shame, ears revealing how embarassed he was. "i love your mother, but i swear she wanted to kill me the way she encouraged you to call me your brother when you were out with me." 

you grimace, holding back a chuckle, "i'm sorry…" 

"don't be," dokyeom sounds truly defeated, as if the work of hiding his feelings from you had finally caught up with him. "i'm sorry i didn't make myself clearer sooner. never imagined we'd talk about this because we got bullied into our first kiss."

you sigh, nodding as you mutter an agreement. dokyeom rises from his slouch slowly, coming to lock eyes with you. one of his hands comes to rest atop your own fist, prying it open so that you were holding his. you feel warm beyond imagination, feeling like you might burst open with the intensity of your feelings for dokyeom, wondering how you'd ever managed to keep them secret. 

"can…" you stop, voice hoarse, licking your lips nervously, "will you kiss me? for real this time?"

it doesn't take dokyeom a moment's hesitation to close the distance betwen you, his soft lips back on yours, not soon enough for you to get used to the gentle saccharine daze that overcame you. your unoccupied hand card through his hair, similar to a few hours ago when you'd been fixing it, but this time dokyeom lets out the mewl he'd been contatining last time.

he pulls away with a somewhat grunt, eyes starry, "there's no way you didn't know what your were doing." you look back at him, a little breathless with a look of complete confusion. 

he sighs, giving in and rest his head against yours, "when you were fixing my hair earlier, i thought i'd die of a heart attack. finally give up and move on from you, if only in death."

"don't say that, dk," you scold him, hands around him in concern, "and i don't understand why– i mean i feel like we've touched… in other ways before so–"

"i don't know either!" he exclaims, "i just– you looked so fucking gorgeous tonight and then you kept being oblivious to how obviously down bad i am for you– i just couldn't."

"hey, you weren't obvious if i didn't know! that's unfair…" you mumble, looking away with flushed cheeks. it didn't make sense to you.  but dokyeom simply laughs into your shoulder, pulling you into a hug, not much of a change for your dynamic. you'd hugged dokyeom countless times before but now you feel unimaginably closer to him, like you were actually holding him, the entirety of him in your arms. it was incredible, the warmth that blossomed inside you in the silence that surrounded you. it was love.

love shows up even in the early mornings when you're with dokyeom. he'd slept over after your date last night, when you'd insisted you would be too lonely to sleep if he promptly took off (like a gentleman, he commented). you'd laid in bed till 2 am, kissing and talking the night away, his hands finding their indents underneath your worn-out tee. 

you wake up to his nose snuggled in your neck, breathing softly in slumber, hair sticking out every which way. you can't help the loving giggle that leaves you, making him stir in his sleep, arm coming to sit atop your bare stomach. 

"sweet boy," you mumble, placing a kiss atop his forehead and watching in awe as his brown eyes come to life at the action. "you awake?" you jokingly ask but dokyeom responds with a groggy grunt, smiling with fluttering eyes. 

you run a finger through his hair. he groans, "don't wake up yet." you laugh, stroking a strand behind his ear, "but i'm already–" 

he cuts you off with a pout, "no, don't wake up, love. please, want to sleep some more." 

you sigh and shift impossibly closer to him. "all right, then. can't argue with that logic." 

with that, you doze off again. how you manage to fall right back asleep is beyond you, though it might have something to do with the fact that dokyeom's presence brings you a serenity you didn't know you could feel, a feeling that's better than the soft comforter that he himself had picked out for your bed. his arms hold you close, the sweetness melting your heart the whole time you dream, dreaming of dokyeom and of love.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Genuine With You - Kalim

Author Notes: Someday, I will feel comfortable writing Kalim, but today is not yet that today. In all seriousness though, I wrote this while listening to "Romantic Flight" from the How to Train Your Dragon OST. I really can't quite decide how I feel about this fic, but I sort of thought it was time for me to post it. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral/ fluff/ romance

Word Count: 881

It wasn’t the first time you’d taken Kalim’s hand to join him on a magic carpet ride through the night sky. But something about it felt different this time. 

When your hand had slipped into his warm one and he’d tugged you through your window and onto the surprisingly soft fabric, you’d felt strangely shy. 

Kalim seemed like his normal self, though, if perhaps a little quieter, as he steered the carpet to take you up higher until you were sailing above the clouds and could see the moon in all its pale glory.

You wrapped your arms around yourself in a feeble effort to protect yourself from the cool night air, “Does it ever get old?”

Your eyes were stuck on the moon even as Kalim looked over at you with a surprised expression that soon melted into one of understanding, “Never. It’s just as magical everytime.”

You smiled, oddly comforted by his words. Somehow, being up in the sky with Kalim by your side made everything feel just a little bit simpler. Your problems seemed distant and far away, with even the school itself appearing tiny.

But perhaps distance had a way of putting things into perspective. While NRC often seemed larger than life, it was just a small part of this great, big world.

Amusingly, you never felt closer to anyone than when you were with Kalim, sailing through the sky high over the sleeping campus. There was a strange serenity, and though Kalim was always joyful, his happiness seemed easier and more relaxed when it was just the two of you.

It wasn’t like you thought he put on for others, but he did seem a little more genuine when it was just you and him. After all, it was only when it was just you and Grim around that you’d ever truly heard him voice any sort of complaints.

“It’s funny; you’re easy to be around,” Kalim’s voice interrupted your musings and spoke your thoughts aloud. You turned to look at him with no small amount of surprise, and he had the good grace to look slightly embarrassed, “I know it's an odd thing to say…. But I really do feel that way.”

You felt a smile creep onto your face at his words, feeling both touched and relieved that he felt the same way. “It’s not odd; I feel the same way about you.”

Now it was his turn to stare at you with wide, disbelieving eyes that had you letting out a laugh, “Is that really so surprising?”

He let out an almost sheepish chuckle and actually nodded, startling you even as he began to explain, “Yeah, it is. A lot of people seem to think they have to put an act around me because of who I am. Even Jamil….” 

He trailed off, looking down as the smile on his face faded at his friend’s name. You’d known for quite some time that the events of winter break…. Jamil’s overblot was still weighing heavily on Kalim’s mind.

And though you entirely understood why that was the case, it pained you that everything that had happened during that time still bothered him so much. But you had no words to comfort the young man, even though you desperately wanted to. So instead, you decided to distract him by continuing on with your previous vein of thought.

“I’ve never felt that way,” You responded honestly and almost immediately regained Kalim’s attention. He no longer looked as sorrowful as before, and the longer you continued speaking, the happier he looked.

“I’ve always thought you’re one of the most comfortable people to be around at this school. I’ve never felt like I needed to be wary or put on an act around you. I can just… exist.” You glanced back at him, a smile on your face as you awkwardly lifted a shoulder.

“You just strike me as a really genuine guy, and I guess I want to be just as genuine with you as you are with me.”

It was like your words had opened some sort of door for Kalim. His eyes shone with both unshed tears and joy, and the next thing you knew, all the cold air that had been blowing around was blocked by his body as he tugged you into a tight embrace.

Because, despite the fact that Kalim was a carefree boy who seemed to do little work, he was by no means small or weak.

You let out a tiny, half-startled laugh as you wrapped your arms responsively around him and received a tiny squeeze in return as you reciprocated his affection.

“Thank you, Y/n; that means so much to me.” The young man leaned bac and you wished you’d had time to brace yourself for the unadulterated affection that shone in his garnet-colored eyes.

“I feel the same way. It’s easy being with you, and I’m so glad you’re here. Even if you aren’t originally from Twisted Wonderland, you mean the world to me.”

He held your hands in his, maintaining eye contact in a way that felt incredibly meaningful, even though you could never read the myriad of emotions that floated through his gaze, though you did catch a few.

Gratitude, honesty, joy, and pure, unfiltered love.

[exactlyyoungchaos]

till forever falls apart.

bestfriendSimon x F!Reader

Part 2.

CW: Character death, trauma, angst, inaccurate military stuff, fluff, probable smut, mental health issues. Proceed with Caution!!!!!

(not proofread, it's 4.30 in the morning here)

It's been five months, six days, twelve hours, and counting since you reunited with Simon in that cafe. Life has been great since then.

He has changed a lot, he's quieter, more gruff, and talks through grunts only. he had scars both physically and emotionally, but you didn't care about any of that. He was your Simon, the only boy you ever loved.

he told you a lot about his life after you left, his job, his teammates his scars, but there were still many things to know and love. You told him stuff about your life, and now that you had him again, all you had was time. to live your life and grow old with him.

he promised you that this assignment would be the last one, after that, he was all yours.

you didn't want him to quit something he loved. but all he said was "It's bout' time love. I have you now, I don't need anything else."

The day you sent him off was very emotional for you. you had just met him again and didn't wanna let him go. You wanted to stay with him.

It was lonely after he left, it felt like somebody took oxygen away from you making it hard to breathe again. His letters and short calls were the only things that kept you from spiraling into depression but you pulled through, just for him.

now you were waiting for his return eagerly. This was the last time you'd ever have to. After this, it was just you and him.

You hadn't heard from him in a few days but you knew he would return today. You cleaned the whole apartment, made his favorite meal, and wore his favorite dress of yours to welcome him.

you were still fussing over the food as your doorbell rang. your heart skipped a beat in excitement. why is he ringing the doorbell? you mused as you went to open the door. Maybe he lost his keys or something...

You opened the door. " welcome back, Si...." but confusion slammed into you when you realized it wasn't Simon but his captain John Price, standing in his full glory.

It was easy to recognize him after Simon had shown you so many pictures of him and his teammates.

"Captain? What are you doing here? Where's Simon? he didn't tell me his team was coming too but it's alright..."

"love" he cuts you off in a soft voice, eyes full of emotion.

That's when you see it, the dog chains in his hand. The same chain Simon had around his neck. You look at him and understanding dawns on you.

"I'm so sorry, luv," he starts

but you stop him.

" No. this isn't funny Mr. Price. Where is he? Where Simon?" you asked harshly.

your heart was beating out of your chest, your vision got blurry.

One look at his face and it all came crashing down.

No, no, no, no. This isn't happening. you kept chanting in your head as Simons's words came back rushing to you

"This's the last one lovie, after that, it's you and me."

He wasn't gone. he can't be gone. you just got him back.

You felt the world tilting on its axis and suddenly two strong arms held you up.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" a soft voice whispered above you. You didn't care about any of that.

He was gone. Simon was gone. Just like that.

You felt John sitting you down on the sofa and he knelt in front of you.

you looked at him. looked at the man who came to tell you that your future would not be here anymore.

"How?" is all you managed to get out. Simon wasn't a rookie, he didn't make mistakes. He was The Ghost.

"Took the bullet meant for Soap," he told you softly.

Soap. you knew that name, but none of it was registering.

Simon is dead. He left you. Permanently.

you can't sit on the laptop and stalk every Simon in the world in hopes of finding yours. he was gone. the one person you gave your whole life searching for, is gone, not coming back.

why? why did this always happen to you? you never asked anything from anyone, never meant bad for anyone. never cursed anyone, then why?

Why would the universe do this do you? take the one thing that kept you going all these years. Do you not deserve it? was your destiny cursed like this?

you gave everything up just for him, sacrificed everything, your life, your innocence all to just find him and when you finally did, he was taken away from you.

why was this world so cruel? what have you done to deserve this? Is this a sign? your life was over now. was this the end?

tears kept coming out of your eyes as you sat and stared at the wall. you didn't scream or shout. just sat there and willed that this nightmare would be over. but it didn't.

John sat there, in front of you, looking at your state. Simon told him all about his bird. That he found her again.

"Gonna lock her down Cap'n, the second I get out of here."

But he didn't make it out. John failed him, he failed his team. Now that he stared at your faraway gaze, he realized that he failed you too.

but none of that mattered to you. You couldn't feel anything but everything at the same time.

you were numb but every part of you ached for something that's gone. Claws were ripping your insides out. Your heart ripped out from you. You were bleeding inside, and all of the wounds you had acquired over the years that were not on your skin were open and throbbing.

and no one was to blame.

It was in the lines of your hands and the scroll of your fate to never have something you want. You hoped and prayed that this time it would be different. But it wasn't.

everything you touch becomes sick with sadness or death. you weren't worthy of any grace by the universe.

so it took away the only person you ever called yours. The only one who knew you for who you are. what you are.

He was gone, all that was left of him was the memory of his faint chuckle and the crinkle in the corner of his eye when you said something ridiculous, the rumble in his chest when you hugged him, the feel of his lips on your own, his clothes in the closet that you shared and the house that was in his name. nothing else.

you had nothing else anymore.

UHMMMMM!!! HIII! THIS IS I. ALI. AND I APOLOGIZE FOR THE HURT CAUSED BY THIS.

I hope you guys liked it. I'm still writing part 3 of Loml. so enjoy this in the meantime.

I'm struggling with where to take this story next. Do you guys have any ideas? if you do, please suggest them in my inbox. And do tell me if you want to be tagged in the next part.

Thank you so much for reading!!!!

Until next time!!!

ALI-💋💋💋

[thestarkerisobvious]

Demon Lover

art by the always-amazing @starker-sorbet

Demon Lover

Rated NC17

It was moments like these that College Student Peter Parker was so grateful he didn’t have a dormmate.

And only partially because that meant he didn’t have a bunkbed.

Because if he DID… well… that meant he’d be having to take it doggy-style on the floor… a thought that made Peter smile to himself.  

“What’s so funny?” the jock grumbled, pulling away (again?!) and Peter looked back over his shoulder with a sweet, winning smile.  His hook-up, who had been all swagger and bold talk at the frat party, was suddenly nervous.  Possibly because Peter’s ancient dormhall creaked and groaned in a way that seemed particularly menacing tonight.  Mr. Jock had even mentioned the rumor that this particular hall was haunted, but Peter had dismissed that with a mention of the age of the building (and a very quick shedding of clothing.)  

“Just so glad you’re here, handsome,” Peter said gently, pushing his ass backward toward Mr Jock (who’s name might have been Hugh?) 

“Now how about getting back to work?” he added coyly, and Mr. Jock seemed to take the hint.  As he groaned in pleasure, Peter smiled all the more.  He was getting better at this.

His first few college hookups had been marred by his awkward shyness, and even by his all-consuming need to please.  This led to weekends spent with equally shy, equally awkward lovers who, while educational, simply didn’t satisfy.  (Plus they always wanted to hang out afterward, for deep & meaningful talks about sexuality or possible relationship-building activities or at least repeat-hookups.   Peter was interested in neither.  Peter was interested in experience.)

And experience was the best teacher.

Just like tonight.  He had developed a sweet-but-frank persona, a way of talking to his nightly conquests, both the kind-of-nervous and of-course-I’m-not-nervous types, that both put them at ease and  kept things moving at the pace he enjoyed.  The persona was one-part authentic and two-parts act, but it seemed to work most of the time.

And it seemed to be working now.  

“God you’re a horny little piece of ass,” Mr. Jock jested, grabbing Peter’s narrow waist with two huge hands, his fingers digging to Peter’s white flesh hard enough to leave bruises on a normal person.  Peter shivered at the thrill and spread his legs even wider, dropping his head and arching his back, moaning in need.  He didn’t care if Mr. Jock made fun of him for it now (or talked about him later.)  He was too hungry to care.  He whimpered involuntarily at the first sweet burn of penetration.

And then yelped involuntarily and bowed his back.  Damn this boy had no finesse.

“Okay, okay, let’s try that again…” Peter said quickly, breathlessly, trying to smile and soothe and readjust and keep their two bodies connected all at the same time.

A task that was not made easier when his framed Valedictorian certificate, and his framed Science Fair medal of honor and his framed acceptance letter all slipped off the wall simultaneously and went crashing to the floor.

“Nonono its fine, don’t worry about that…” Peter gasped, reaching behind him to take Mr. Jock’s hand, probably too tightly (dammit it was so hard to do this and remember his super-strength at the same time!)  “Damn thumbtacks never work, just do it like this,” he breathed, shamelessly moving his hips and his ass backward, trying to show this dumb ox how Peter wanted him to use his dick.  Fortunately, even this dumb ox had a sense of rhythm.  Moving with Peter he seemed to get the rhythm right (even if he couldn’t get the angle right to save his life.  Maybe math nerds would be better at this, Peter mused.)

It worked.  Maybe-Hugh grabbed Peter’s hips again in that bruising grip and started thrusting mercilessly and Peter stopped thinking altogether.

For just a few moments, it was perfect.  Those demanding hands.  That demanding cock.  Feeling full and controlled and taken.  

He was far stronger than Mr. Jock, of course.  As huge and broad-shouldered  as Maybe-Hugh was, Peter could have pinned him down with one hand.  And that just made it better, somehow.  Being powerful and willingly handing that power over, completely, to another man.

Of course, that other ‘man’ didn’t know how strong Peter was.  Hell, that other ‘man’ probably didn’t know Peter’s name.Peter distracted himself by sneaking a peek back at the powerful body behind him, all broad shoulders and smooth muscles and sweat.  Tonight’s conquest was huge and beefy and rough… also pretty dense, but Peter had learned not to be picky about hookups.  Especially ones that smelled as manly, as salty as this one.

And god just the sight of those sweating, straining muscles was turning him on beyond measure.  If only Mr. Jock would lean over his back just enough for Peter to feel the drops falling onto his back… but changing their position only a tiny bit might end the perfect rhythm of thrusting and Peter wasn’t about to risk it.)

Peter closed his eyes and opened up his senses.  Not the enhanced kind that let him know what people were eating in the dorm rooms down the hall (GOD he was so glad the rooms right next to him were empty.  It was hard to be quiet when you were getting a good fucking) but brought all the sensory input from this single room in to super-sharp focus.

The scent of sex and salt and urgency filled his nostrils and his brain and made him so very, very glad he had gone through all the trouble of convincing Mr. Jock back to his room.  And the body heat… even though it was only the boy’s legs pressing against the backs of Peter’s legs…  it was like being burned by an oven.  Once again Peter grinned with gratitude, this time about the excellent thermostat that controlled the temperature in his room.  Keeping it just a hair above comfortable (and then swearing it was broken and there was nothing he could do about it) made sure that his partners sweat, and right now his current partner was sweating beautifully.  It filled the room with the heady, sweet perfume that made Peter’s head swim.  If only it were possible to get pounded from behind AND keep his mouth attached to that warm, moist skin… maybe Mr. Jock wouldn’t mind a few tender, lingering kisses against his neck or chest after the sex was over.  Not every lover did. 

Peter loved the taste of human male skin, but if he couldn’t get a taste, he would certainly enjoy the aroma.  He arched his neck, raising his head, breathing in the moment, letting his senses record everything.  The beautiful scent of two human bodies working together, the constant, steady vibration of the bed moving against the wall, the throaty moans of the boy behind him…

“Gonna’ fuck you to death… I’m gonna leave that hole busted open from my dick…”

Peter ducked his head quickly before Maybe-Hugh could see him roll his eyes.  

Sometimes he wished he could turn his hearing off completely.

But now Maybe-Hugh was whimpering with a high-pitched, needy urgency that told Peter his perfect moment might already be over.  He turned his head to say something… maybe not something completely people-pleasing, maybe to actually speak up and ask for Maybe-Hugh to slow down a bit, to try to draw out the moment, even for a few seconds longer…

…then Maybe-Hugh reached out and grabbed Peter by the left arm and yanked it backward.

This sent Peter sprawling face-first into his own bed.  Which was not a bad sensation by itself, but sent Peter’s ass into a right-facing slant which meant Maybe-Hugh’s dick went in at a painful angle.

Peter yelped.

Then the lamp at the night table flung itself into the air and across the bed, clipping the other boy across the face.

Maybe-Hugh screamed.

                                              —————————–

“It’s okayit’sokayit’sokay it’s nothing!!” Peter pleaded, reaching out as Mr. Jock jumped up from the bed, looking frantically around for his attacker.  “You just knocked the lamp over, it’s okay…

“It’s okay!” Peter said louder, not the other boy but to the room in general.

“What the fucking fuck was that?!” Mr. Jock finally managed, not even noticing Peter’s hands on his, trying to pull him back onto the bed.

“You just knocked the lamp off the night table… it’s not expensive it’s just from the goodwill store…”

“It went flying across the fucking room!”

“Well you were being really vigorous dude…”  Peter smiled, or at least tried to, fighting to find that tone again, the tone that would make his partners relax… to keep them in the mood… or at the very least, keep them in the room. 

“You were amazing… and pulling me face-down on the bed was hot… you just gotta keep it at a 180 degree angle and…”

“What the fuck is wrong with your dormroom, man?!?!”

“Oh come on, baby, you were so close!” Peter begged, trying to smile and look soothing, all at the same time.  Come on…”

He moved up to his knees and risked flinging his arms around Mr. Jock’s neck, letting his hands dangle behind the large, square head delicately.  “I promised you my ass was tight, and wasn’t it?  You were so close… come on baby… just because you broke my lamp doesn’t mean we have to stop…”

“Dammit they told me not to go with you, they told me this damn place was haunted…”

“My dorm room is not haunted!” 

Mr. Jock looked down at him, surprised.  But people always looked surprised when Peter raised his voice.  He had quite an unexpected tone when he was trying to keep things under control.

Peter wasn’t sure if there was any point in trying anymore, but still, he tried.  Mostly because they had only been at it for about seven minutes, and it had taken twice that long just to talk Mr. Jock into wearing the damn condom.  For an city boy, Mr. Jock sure hadn’t been too informed about safe sex.

“Hey… come on… are you really going to let some stupid, inane Tri-Delt ghost story keep you from getting laid?  Seriously?” He joked, softening his tone the tiniest bit, but not letting go of his lover’s hands, still pulling him back onto the bed.

“Now get back over here and get back to it!” he said, semi-playfully.  It seemed to work… they were moving back onto the bed in any case.  Mr. Jock’s eyes were wide, but he seemed to be obedient.  Especially when Peter turned his back and pressed it against that hard, muscular (sweaty!) chest, hooking one arm behind them both and combing his fingers through his lover’s sweat-soaked hair.  

“You just broke my lamp,” he teased, grinding his body against his lover’s suggestively.  “The least you can do is finish what you started…” 

“You spooky little shit,” came the growl from behind him.  “I’m going to fuck that candy-ass until your knees bleed…”

The lamp exploded.

                                        ———————————-

Peter continued to argue.  He might have pulled it off - in addition to super-strength and extra-sensitive hearing he also had a an uncanny gift of persuasion.  He might have even convinced the panicked boy for a few minutes longer - yes, said boy’s discarded shirt currently flying around the room but Peter had managed to keep his arms around Hugh’s neck and thus his face pointed it the opposite direction.

 But then Hugh caught a glimpse of the aerial laundry show in the mirror and it didn’t matter.

Then the heavy rotary phone on the other night table began ringing and Peter gave up.

It wasn’t a normal telephone ring, because of course it wasn’t.  It was a long, terrifying continuous wail, loud enough to drown out the stammering and swearing as Maybe-Hugh frantically yanked on his pants and attempted to retrieve enough of his clothing to escape.  “At least you’re not trying to yank the cord out of the wall,” Peter muttered, mostly to himself, as he sat, defeated on the bed.  The last lover who had done that in an attempt to make the phone stop making the ungodly noise had just found that it made the phone ring louder than ever…

…which, come to think of it, was probably how Peter got the reputation of living in a “haunted dorm hall.”

“You forgot your shirt!” he called out half-heartedly as his panicked hook-up ran out the door, slamming it behind him.  Not that it mattered.  Apparently Maybe-Hugh had decided that pants and shoes were enough to make his escape.

Peter signed heavily.  He waited.

Finally, the phone stopped its clamor.

Finally, the windows stopped rattling as the walls ceased to vibrate.  One by one, the floating laundry dropped, item by item to the floor.  

They even piled themselves right next to the hamper.  

Still Peter didn’t speak.

The thrift-store lamp meekly lifted itself up from the floor and floated, humbly, back to its original position.  Peter leaned over to one side to let it pass.  It was still hopelessly broken, but he said nothing.  

It wasn’t the first broken lamp he had to deal with.  That’s why he got them from goodwill in the first place.

He sat with his mouth closed for some time.  Forehead creased.  Considering carefully.  The silence filled the small dorm room.

Finally, he spoke.   

“Tony, we have to talk.”

[blueiscoool]

Why These Imperfect Korean ‘Moon Jars’ Sell for Millions

Old, round, imperfect and beautiful — that’s how fans of Korean art describe the moon jar, or “dalhangari.”

These unassuming, plain white pots have entranced everyone from rapper RM, of K-pop sensation BTS, to philosopher Alain de Botton.

The former director of London’s Victoria and Albert Museum, Beth McKillop, has called the moon jar an “icon of Korean identity.” And if price is any indicator of popularity, one recently sold for over $4.5 million at a Christie’s auction.

This month, a rare example from the late 17th or early 18th century will go on sale at Sotheby’s in New York, where it’s expected to fetch more than $3 million.

“A large moon jar has always been expensive, but I think the big uptick in prices and value is… because their appeal is now global,” said Angela McAteer, Sotheby’s international head of Chinese art for the Americas and Europe, over video call. “You’ve got an international cohort of bidders competing for them, so it’s gone beyond the traditional connoisseur collecting community of Korean art.”

Huge price tags also result from the jars’ rarity. Although made for over a century in the royal kilns of Korea’s last kingdom, the Joseon dynasty, few are thought to exist today. Estimates for the number of larger ones (those more than 40 centimeters, or 15.7 inches, tall and wide) that have survived over the years range from 12 to 30.

Having passed through auction houses and antique dealers across the world, several of these are now in the collections of institutions like the British Museum and Boston’s Museum of Fine Arts, as well as in the hands of private collectors.

‘Owning a piece of happiness’

The first moon jars were created in the royal kilns in Gwangju (a city just outside Seoul, not the larger southern city of the same name) from 1650 to 1750. They were made from pure white porcelain and kaolin clay, and, following the neo-Confucian fashions of their day, the pots reflected values such as propriety, humility, frugality and purity. They were likely used at court and in upper-class homes as containers for food and liquids, or as decorative vessels.

In the mid-20th century, moon jars began gaining international appreciation thanks to influential admirers such as Japanese folk crafts scholar Yanagi Soetsu and British potter Bernard Leach, who bought one from a Seoul antique store in 1935. Leach once said that having a moon jar was like “owning a piece of happiness,” and would later give his to fellow potter Lucie Rie for safekeeping during World War II. It stayed in her studio until her death and was later acquired by the British Museum.

Charlotte Horlyck, lecturer in Korean Art History at the University of London’s School of Oriental and African Studies, wrote in the Art Bulletin journal that after World War II the moon jar “caught the attention of an early generation of postcolonial Korean artists and scholars who sought to restore Korean art history and national identity,” as the pieces “resonated with the visual language of international modernism and minimalism of the mid-20th century while remaining a distinctly Korean work of art.”

The moon jar’s allure

When Sotheby’s announced its forthcoming sale, the auction house described its 44-centimeter (17.3-inch) moon jar as an object that inspired, astounded and soothed those who “stand in its presence.” It’s a funny thing to say about a pot, to speak as if it’s alive, but the jars’ visceral, emotional impact on people is something that comes up time and time again in the literature.

Choi Sunu, a former director of the National Museum of Korea, has described the museum’s moon jars as being like companions, or muses that have inspired his writing and stirred his creativity. Bernard Leach admired the pots for their “natural unselfconsciousness.” In 2012, South Korea’s then-Unification Minister Yu Woo-ik used the pot as a metaphor symbolizing a reunified Korean peninsula (moon jars are created in two hemispherical pieces and joined in the middle).

More recently the rapper RM, of K-pop group BTS, posted a picture of himself hugging a modern-day moon jar on Twitter, telling fans that the pots made him feel calm.

“It’s hard for someone to really comprehend how a pot can make you feel that way,” said McAteer. “It has this real meditative presence. If you’ve sat in front of a great (painting by US artist, Mark) Rothko and you feel this kind of palpable energy emanate from it, and you could sit for hours and just feel something in its presence — the moon jar has that too.”

“The more you look at it, the more there is to see. It looks different from every angle,” she added. “We had real issues with the photography and the catalog because it looks like a different piece every time you rotate it, or you change the lighting. The surface is just alive, you know.”

“You can see how the glaze coalesces; you see these spontaneous bursts of this blush color that’s happening in the firing. You can lose yourself in its surface.”

Modern masters

Modern Korean potters have been inspired by the jars, and a number have come up with their own homages. Ceramist Kim Syyong covers his pots with a black glaze, while Yun Ju Cheol’s versions look spikier like a pufferfish and Choi Bo Ram’s unvarnished, textured blue vases have a denim-like quality.

Others, like Kwon Dae Sup, have looked to closely recreate the process used by the potters of yore. The 71-year-old ceramist produces unadorned white jars and allows for all the beautiful imperfections produced to shine through. He works out of a studio in Gwangju, where the royal kilns that produced moon jars were once located.

There’s a great deal of preparation that goes into making a moon jar traditionally. It’s labor-intensive: washing, sifting impurities from the clay, kneading and rolling it to remove air bubbles, carrying around these large hunks, not to mention hand throwing the clay itself to that oversized bowl shape without collapsing, and the work keeping a pine wood fire burning for 24 hours while the pot hardens in the kiln. Kwon also built his own kiln to replicate the old process as closely as possible.

“I do this because it’s fun,” he said in a phone interview. “Every time I make something, it’s novel … The quality of the material is different every time. The conditions in which I make the pots is new every time.”

Kwon said he also feels an emotional connection to the moon jar. As a student he was so moved by a one he saw in a Korean antique store that he decided they would be his life’s work. “They feel alive,” he said.

In a 2019 book on his work by Axel Vervoodt Gallery the potter is quoted saying he tries to produce art that needs no addition or subtraction. “I wish to create work that has an imposing presence but harmonizes with its surroundings regardless of where and when it is displayed. It should give peace of mind and a sense of comfort to all who look at it.”

By Christy Choi.

[wiredaughter]

@fluffyfebruary 16: kiss and makeup/reconciliation

×××

Heckle for a Pistol

I’m always telling him not to kill my drones. Not to let go of the proton gun I’ve spent eons working on and was still a bloody prototype anyway. Not to take the carbon based armour I’ve made exclusively for him for a swim in the Pacific, since I’ve not tested the material’s salt resistance. I suppose it’s on me for not asking him not to total my own motorbike I made him take with in case he needed a quick getaway. So totaled it is. Funny how that works.

I glare at the pieces of the aforementioned gun Sapien delivered back two missions ago, and throw myself despondently back on the chair. He cannot die, or I don’t think he can, but still he’d have been hard pressed to make it against those ghouls in Sonoma, say, without my hydrochloric devices. This time, he’d have got a bit chewed up by that sea abomination had he stayed close, and he didn’t. He drove my bike away, not fast enough to escape its spiked limbs, though, and it ended in a crash that left him without longterm issues, and my bike a piece of rubble.

Glad as I am he’s not dead, and of course I’m glad but that’s not the matter at hand, I’m getting tired of the way this place overlooks my department. And it’s my own fault, I joked I’d be just like Morgan Freeman for the Batman, and that’s the regard given to the rooms allocated for me to create a research and development team. What’s the point, I muse, when everything I develop gets thrashed before a patent can be finalised?

Of course, the point is keeping me away from the field, this is where I’m most useful, wouldn’t you agree? I think Manning does. Much as he resents me, he understands acting like my job here has a value gives him an edge. I smoke, indoors as I am, it’s one of the pointless rebellious acts I allow myself. I’m done with looking at diagrams for the day, and I’m mad at the loss of my bike, but honestly, my father will buy me a new one and I’ll actually have fun modding it.

It’s the gun that still eats at me, and for good reason. I’m working on a way to defeat ghosts without having to guess which amulet will do it this time, and what do I get for my troubles? A very blue agent taking it for a spin when he’s facing down demons? Please. I make tea as I try to rework the model, but my blueprints are as indescifrable for me as anyone else. That’s why I keep the prototypes.

I’ve got two nerds slaving at them all the same, in the next room. Manning had preened and boasted when he told me he’d got them on loan all the way from Washington to help me keep his agents on gear, but I don’t care much for them. They’re an alright help, but one can’t stop hinting at wanting to dine with me and the other won’t stop asking whether I went to Eton or Winchester; ever since I declared I’d never set foot on a university. A lie, of course, but I thought it’d make him back off.

Great, now I’m thinking of my temps, chainsmoking and drinking a tea that’s long gone cold as I stare hatefully through the window I insisted on, if I was to have an office. As I curse them and their families, trying to remember their names, they prove their usefulness all the same when someone walks into the office they share and I hear them protest I said no visitors. I’m thinking of humouring the one who’s not a bitch about public schools and sharing a nightcap to spite Sapien when the object of my loathing and the man I’m trying to keep safe no matter how many of my robots he gets slaughtered walks through the door, my favourite employee clinging to him. I cross my arms, blow some smoke in their general direction.

‘I told him you were not seeing anyone!’

‘Yes, thank you…’ I trail off, make a note to learn his name. ‘You can show him around, I’m done today.’

I move towards them at the door, and he makes a valiant attempt to pull Sapien out of the way.

‘We need to talk.’

‘Unless your name is Johnny Walker I’ve got nothing else to say.’

I turn around, open the window and climb out, for I will not be deterred. He’ll want to apologise for the bike and sure it was cool but I’m just done with the entire thing, and unwilling to explain it. I don’t want to think about it. I hear an argument break out and the affected speech of my least favourite intern before I’m walking away.

I’m about six drinks in or eight, paging despondently through Dorian Gray’s excesses when he knocks on my door. ‘I said go away!’

I’m trying to set the door on flames with my eyes and sheer willpower, and that’s the only reason I see a paper sliding beneath it. I get up, ready to tell him where he can shove it, but when I pick it up I realise it’s not some old timey apology letter, but diagrams. Of my gun. I open the door, annoyed at him not being there anymore, and step out to see him walking away.

‘Sapien!’ I jog to reach him, papers held tight on my hand. ‘What’s this?’

‘I was sorry about taking the proton gun the moment I did it. I thought it might help with the case, but I should have asked. I created a working schema from your notes.’

I snort, notes is maybe too kind, considering my work process. I hold his arm to steady myself, surprised in equal parts at his work and his correct guess it wasn’t about the motorbike.

‘How?’

‘I got copies of the material from Philip.’

I tilt my head. ‘Who’s Philip?'

His mouth twists, almost a smile. ‘Your staff?’

‘Oh. Well, does this work?’

‘We won’t know until you build it.’

I laugh, begin pulling him along towards my room. ‘I’ll build it when I’m not drunk. Or hungover.’

He hums as I slam the door behind us. No use letting everyone know they can annoy me with bogstandard IT issues without fearing my wrath again. Abraham goes easily when I shove him to sit on my bed, step back to put the brilliant, legible, workable pages in my desk.

‘And what are you doing now, being drunk?’

I arch a brow. So, he’s got better at innuendo. For all I like that I’d like it better if he wasn’t speaking right now, and move to climb on him to rectify that. His kisses are sweet, and I missed this, so I huff when he pulls back.

‘I’m sorry about the bike too.’

I roll my eyes. ‘Oh, fuck my bike.

[glass-needles-and-futurisms]

I keep thinking back to Muse playing Survival at the closing ceremonies of the 2012 London Olympics, and I keep saying that one of these days I'm just gonna spew all my feelings about how it's not just one of my all-time favorite Muse moments, but also a hilarious, if perhaps unintentional, moment of social commentary.

I still remember our postgrad professor showing those same closing ceremonies in class, explaining the not-so-subtle propagandistic purpose the entire spectacle served on the global stage. (For those who don't know, the 2012 Olympics closing ceremonies were essentially a three-hour star-studded tribute to UK music and pop culture.)

Picture this: you just sat through about two hours of the UK's various national exports - One Direction, the Spice Girls, the Pet Shop Boys, George Michael, Ed Sheeran, Annie Lennox, erm, Russell Brand. You've just seen live performances of Bohemian Rhapsody, Imagine, Wonderwall, and Always Look on the Bright Side of Life, alongside tributes to David Bowie and Freddie Mercury. And you still have Queen, Take That and The Who to go after this.

Interestingly, that class glossed over what an afterthought the Muse performance felt like by comparison. You could argue a lot of extenuating circumstances: the controversial reception of Survival as the official London Olympics theme song, the infamous NBC debacle where it inadvertently got cut from the US broadcast of the ceremonies, or the simple fact that this far into the festivities, a fairly straightforward stage performance* by a band with slightly less name recognition than Coldplay was pretty underwhelming.

* Not sure if this is common knowledge, but apparently this performance was mostly playback with the exception of Matt's vocals. Which also makes this an underappreciated entry in the annals of Muse miming shenanigans.

But something becomes very apparent once you actually reach this part of the show: Survival is fucking bananas. I'll never forget that one internet commenter calling it the world's most epic villain song that doesn't know it's a villain song. I mean, just look at the lyrics:

Life's a race / and I am gonna win

And I'll light the fuse / and I'll never lose

And I choose to survive / whatever it takes

You won't pull ahead / I'll keep up the pace

And I'll reveal my strength / to the whole human race

This is how the song starts! You can sort of see the logic behind making it the Olympics theme song. And then it gets weirder from there:

Yes, I am prepared / to stay alive

I won't forgive / the vengeance is mine

And I won't give in / because I choose to thrive

Yeah, I'm gonna wiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin

Good grief. No wonder it's called "Survival". The song makes slightly more sense in the thematic context of The 2nd Law, the album it was released on. But on its own it's just.... yeah.

And this performance ramps up the insanity even more by just taking the piss. Between Matt Bellamy peacocking in a sparkly suit and Union Jack t-shirt, the batshit guitar solo, the pyro, the backing choir, and the fact that everything onstage (including the grand piano) is pretty much just for show (and wobbling like mad), Survival feels cheesy and irreverent in a way that makes you suddenly hyper-conscious of how tightly orchestrated everything else you just saw (including the Monty Python and Mr. Bean stuff) was. Remember that this was all broadcast to an international audience of millions.

Pairing the sheer pageantry of the ceremonies thus far with the actual lyrics of Survival kinda puts everything in an uncomfortable new light. Then it dawns on you that you pretty much just watched an accidental three-hour love letter to British imperialism. (Okay maybe that's overselling it a bit but it's still pretty funny.)

[daeyeol4you]

The Chay Rewatch Ep 9

Ep 1 & 2, Ep 3, Ep 4, Ep 5, Ep 6, Ep 7, Ep 8

Ep 9 - Kim is so whipped while somehow still being emotionally constipated

Time: 10:22 – 12:11 – songwriting boy

Kim’s Outfit: An olive-green jacket, a white shirt, and the return of the white pants

Why does no guitar in this show have a guitar strap?

Chay’s song breaks Kim’s writing block, Kim’s written tons of music before, but now Chay is becoming his muse, taking over the one outlet Kim allows himself

The emotional shutdown Kim forces himself through once he realizes how happy even the memory of Chay is making him. He can’t allow himself to be weak because any attachment to Chay is a weakness, but even that fails because immediately he’s back to smiling while he plays

Kim is so inspired to write even while he’s very clearing trying to cut Chay out of his brain, he’s trying to write his feelings out so he can go back to being cold, untouchable Kim

Korn really did screw up all of his sons emotionally – commitment issues to spare

Time: 29:46 – Macau Spotting

Macau scaring the absolute shit out of Pete, what a little shit

Macau’s Outfit: Another sweater vest with orange and blue stripes with tan pants and white shoes

Macau and Vegas definitely planned this, and Macau is so happy to be causing mischief

Wingman Macau you will always be famous

Macau going on and on about the sermon to tease Pete only to fall asleep immediately, what a mood

Time: 39:24 – 40:03 – the guitar pick!

Not me immediately trying to analyze all of the details of Chay’s room

There’s a bottle of milk on his desk – again I’m sorry I laughed this is a funny bit

The towers of CDs behind Chay speak to how Chay isn’t just into music because its fun, he’s put a lot of effort into appreciating music

The ukelele is cute

He has a jar of I think paper stars on his back shelf – I only mention this because there are a number of different meanings to lucky paper stars but the one I know best is that if you fold either 1,000 or 2,000 (depending on the tale) you can get a wish (you also can give the stars to someone you love) I also know some do it for luck – which Chay has interesting thoughts about luck as we know

Chay creating the guitar pick with his own two hands – my art kid Chay agenda is so real

Chay’s outfit: I’m 99% sure that Chay is wearing a Geto (from Jujutsu Kaisen) shirt. Chay anime fan confirmed

Geto is an antagonist from Jujutsu Kaisen, and I view him as a tragic figure who was once good but due to the evils of his job and the abuse he saw, turned evil. Later on, his body becomes a vessel for further evil

Chay’s friend is named Ohm! I so forgot about this bit I won’t lie

Chay really had been hoping it was Kim. He may have left the next step up to Kim, but he’s still so hopeful that Kim doesn’t leave him behind. He’s for sure getting impatient about it and is planning his next move on his target – sorry crush!

Chay ignoring Ohm draws up a lot of my ideas about how private Chay is about everything. He allows others to see just the surface of everything going on with him, but he tends to be very private about his thoughts and interests. Its not a lack of confidence. I just think he learned early on that sometimes speaking up about everything can be a burden (particularly in his relationship with Porsche) you have to work to get his more internal thoughts

And Chay chooses this! At any point he could put down the guitar pick and answer his friend’s invite, who probably knows something is up with Chay just not what. He’s very tunnel-visioned when he chooses a path, but he doesn’t feel the need to tell anyone else that

Chay doesn’t hide or lie about his emotions and thoughts usually. He just doesn’t always say them out loud. There’s a difference trust me

Time: 49:48 – 53:04 – Chay’s version of gift giving

Chay’s Outfit: a grey crewneck with white and blue paint splatters over a black shirt with the same pendant from the song scene

Kim’s outfit: a studded black leather jacket paired with a white shirt and blue jeans. His necklace this time is a blend of two different chain types (partly made of safety pins I think?) with his regular silver earrings and rings

Chay breaking into the rehearsal space – child I was just praising you for leaving the ball in Kim’s court, please stop waving red flags! You are such a concerning young man

Chay is so cute no wonder Kim is okay with the stalking, also who is this friend Chay keeps getting this info from (please just be stan twitter please that’d be so funny)

I love how this scene gets presented from behind the glass of the recording booth, the slow zoom-in on the two as the scene progresses

Kim’s calm responses to this are so dynamic when placed next to Chay’s which are full of excitement and nerves

Gosh the zoom-in when Chay presents the box – beautiful

“This is limited edition. You’ve got the only one piece in the world.” – how long do you think its been since Kim received a genuine, heartfelt gift like this?

Compare this gift to Kim and the guitar. Kim bought an incredibly expensive guitar for Chay, but it was to buy his way into the house. There was more manipulation than thought put into that gift

Whereas Chay made that pick himself adding even greater meaning to the gift. Chay isn’t trying to manipulate Kim, he’s genuinely just staying true to himself by confessing and giving Kim the pick as thanks. Chay’s always been upfront about his emotions and intentions with Kim which is very refreshing

of course Chay passed - he's very talented

“From now on I won’t have any excuse to see your face.” “Can I bother you one last time?” – that’s such a cute statement, plus it also goes to show that Chay gets that Kim is trying to cut him off and will accept it after he says his piece (Chay respects boundaries! I am ignoring his stalking for right now!)

I love Chay’s fidgeting here, very genuine and doesn’t feel forced

KIM’S FACE WHEN CHAY SAYS HE LIKES HIM! He knew but was not prepared for Chay to actually say it

Chay’s rambling about making an oath with himself – he is so good! He is so emotionally healthy & confident! (I am ignoring the red flags about his stalking right now!)

I know some people were disappointed about never getting a ‘real’ kiss, but I like this cheek kiss. Chay’s still young compared to Kim, and Kim holds a lot of power as his tutor as well as how many secrets he’s keeping from Chay. A kiss on the lips would have been marred by that and would have been uncomfortable when looked back on. This kiss works for them, it's sweet and it’s a foundation for the two of them to build on

During this scene, there’s this large empty space between Kim and Chay. Chay stays respectfully away until Kim breaks the divide and kisses him. It was always going to be up to Kim to choose what to do next

THE MUSIC!! THE HUGS!! – Kim is so not a hugger, but for Chay he lets it happen, twice! This is the same man we see bullying bodyguards and murdering people! The duality of man indeed

Shoutout to Tankhun for his open and honest defense of Porsche – truly a man who knows that open communication is necessary (unlike his brothers)

Overall Chay Rating (Chrating) – A

This ep definitely goes everywhere, but we get a good amount of KimChay development as well as a Macau appearance. I’m glad we got solo scenes from Kim & Chay before they saw each other as it laid the groundwork for the confession scene, very well plotted. Chay being so truthful to himself as well as Kim’s emotional breakthrough was very refreshing

[daenystheedreamer]

i thoght the yaoi thing was joke? :(

its /hj. tbc i haaaate most yaoi the majority of it is tasteless voyeuristic erotica which isnt like an evil thing to make but still extremely bad. i think its funny and i mostly read it cos its hilarious. more thoughts under the cut

it's misrepresented and #misunderstood especially by western gay people. its not representation, it's not 'led by queer people', and the difference between 'yaoi' and 'boy's love' is marginal. it's predominantly heterosexual women who enjoy writing drawing reading two (or more..) guys fuck which is fine. yaoi vs bl is often used as both a categorical distinction (yaoi is erotica, bl isn't) and a moral one (yaoi is cringe/homophobic/bad and bl is pure/wholesome/untainted) which is like fundamentally so wrong if you know anything about the genre.

the history is really interesting. It's roots are firmly in shojou manga, as in, explicitly for young women. early works are often taboo-breaking and deal with sexual abuse, incest, etc. an early muse for the genre was bjorn andressen as tadzio in the film 'death in venice' and if you know anything about that film and andressen says A Lot. shonen ai (literally boy love) was originally a term which was pederastic in nature but became the name for the genre. to crib from the wikipedia article cos it summarises it well:

While the term shōnen-ai historically connoted ephebophilia or pederasty, beginning in the 1970s it was used to describe a new genre of shōjo manga (girls' manga) featuring romance between bishōnen (lit. "beautiful boys"), a term for androgynous or effeminate male characters. Early shōnen-ai works were inspired by European literature, the writings of Taruho Inagaki, and the Bildungsroman genre Shōnen-ai often features references to literature, history, science, and philosophy; Suzuki describes the genre as being "pedantic" and "difficult to understand", with "philosophical and abstract musings" that challenged young readers who were often only able to understand the references and deeper themes as they grew older.

Yaoi, on the other hand:

Coined in the late 1970s by manga artists Yasuko Sakata and Akiko Hatsu, yaoi is a portmanteau of yama nashi, ochi nashi, imi nashi (山[場]なし、落ちなし、意味なし), which translates to "no climax, no point, no meaning".[f] Initially used by artists as a self-deprecating and ironic euphemism, the portmanteau refers to how early yaoi works typically focused on sex to the exclusion of plot and character development; it is also a subversive reference to the classical Japanese narrative structure of introduction, development, twist, and conclusion

by the way, that [f] note is: "The acronym yamete, oshiri ga itai (やめて お尻が 痛い, "stop, my ass hurts!") is also less commonly used."

Like the term fujoshi, meaning 'rotten girl', is the same it's very silly and self-deprecating. That's so fun! I think the yaoi genre in general is a really interesting phenomena that's rooted so deeply in Japan as a culture. I think it's great that women are able to sincerely enjoy something fun, I think it's great that women were able and continue to have successful careers in writing, and I also think it's mostly bad.

A lot of modern stuff, especially the works getting pumped out of korea by genuinely evil webtoon companies, suffer from the fundamental problems with serialisation. It putters from chapter to chapter and every single one is the same as the other. A lot of Japanese bl/yaoi is in the form of short fiction, about 5-10 chapters, and again there are fundamental problems with this. they often suffer from too much crammed in AND from so little stretched thin.

I also think yes morally or 'representationally' or whatever they are like Pretty cringe. like sorry uke/seme is BAD. sexual assault is not even handled so much as it is kicked around. Women are non-existent at best and horrifically sexist at worst. Also the writing, though ofc i read (often fan-) translated works, just sucks.

You guys don't know how bad it gets. like ok example.... it's hard giving examples cos most of its just boring or bad in a lame way. okay there's this korean rom-com drama webtoon about a boss and his employee and the boss is actually an immortal snake-deity who fell in love with this guy and his employee is the reincarnation of that guy. sounds fine right? well the snake boss has two dicks. So.

[grandma-susan]

1

what made you decide to roleplay this muse? It started as a shits and giggles joke. I originally wanted to RP as Rosie, but there were already so many Rosies, so I decided to pick a random background character with a name. And I landed on Susan, I also just thought it would be funny for her to yell overblown windbag insults at people. I was gonna delete the blog within a week or two. But I started to notice some interesting details: * Susan is one of the elderly looking folks in Hell, most manifest young. * Viv says the town is based somewhat in the 1910s, Susan is older, and she wears Victorian-Edwardian Era Bustle Dress, a fox pelt and ornate walking cane that were both popular in also in those two eras, but carries a cigarette holder which didn't gain popularity until the 1920s, meaning she is more of a mid to late Victorian lass. * Despite being the Overlord and being accompanied by another Overlord, both Rosie and Alastor resent, but tolerate her. Rosie even mentions to Charlie to win over the town she had to win over Susan, the town doesn't move without Susan. And that collective gasp, also tells me that the Town does have some respect to this bag of bones. Which is interesting to me, because both Rosie and Alastor could easily just take her out. * Susan's existed this long with how many exterminations? How? I wanna know. *How bitter she is towards Charlie, an elite. She also uses the same phrase "blue blood", which is also said by Striker, which to me made me think that in her life she carries some resentment to the upper class. And then my head started to swirl with all the possibilities of why she ended up like this *Also the quick frame of her nodding towards Charlie told me this granny can be won over with the right work or charm. *Also its really fun to write "endearments delivered as insults".

[robynmizore]

Redemption Special Chapter:

A Hoshidan Birthday

“Hey, Takumi.. when’s your birthday?” Robyn asked suddenly. 

They were sitting next to each other, books in laps in front of the roaring fireplace in Robyn’s room, absorbed in reading. It was nearly the end of the year now, Alfonse’s coronation ball rapidly approaching. Surprisingly, she remembered her own birthday was soon, and while she’d seen the other heroes celebrate birthdays, she’d yet to see the prince even mention his. For some reason, the question prompted a faint blush on the prince’s cheeks. 

“..My birthday? Why are you asking about that?”

”Because I want to celebrate with you, silly!”

”Ah.. is that so?” He glanced away, seeming self conscious. “Well.. when’s yours?” 

“I asked you first!”

”Fine.. let’s both say it on three.” Takumi chuckled. “Three.. two.. one!”

”December 14th!” they both said at the same time. 

“What?! We have the same birthday?!” Takumi exclaimed. 

It would seem they had even more in common than they thought..

”B-but that would mean both our birthdays are..”

”..Tomorrow.” Takumi finished. 

Both stared at each other, faces flushed, eyes wide until at last, Takumi spoke up first. 

“I uh.. I have to go.. d-do something. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

He shot out of the room at the speed of an arrow, and a soft blush covered the Summoner’s cheeks. 

..He’s totally planning something for me.. isn’t he? she thought as affection bubbled in her chest. 

Takumi paced the halls of the Askrian castle restlessly, mumbling to himself. 

“I can’t believe Robyn and I have the same birthday. Hm.. what to get her..” he mused. 

While he wanted to run out to the markets and buy the most beautiful thing he could find, the prince found he was rather indecisive. He was determined to find the courage to confess soon, but their shared birthday wasn’t the time to do so. If he got her something too extravagant, it may raise some questions he wasn’t yet ready to answer. 

“..But its still our first one together, so it’ll still need to be special.”

Takumi was so distracted, he didn’t notice the footsteps stealthily approaching him until the the familiar voice hissed eerily in his ear.

”..Special you say? I know juuuust what you need..” 

Stifling a groan, Takumi turned to face Niles, who was wearing his infamous smirk. 

“Whatever gross idea you have, I’m not interested.” he growled. 

“Aw.. it isn’t gross! Quite the opposite actually!” the thief circled him, Takumi’s eyes narrowing in suspicion.

”You want your precious little Summoner to have the best gift ever, right? Lucky for you, I happen to know exactly what she wants.”

I’m not falling for that!

But then again.. Niles was well aware of his feelings, and was known to be quite observant. Maybe he did actually know what the Summoner wanted. It couldn’t hurt to play along for a little bit.. right?

”F-fine! But don’t try anything funny!”

I’m only doing this for Robyn!

”Wouldn’t dream of it. Okay first, take this long red ribbon and tie it around yourself.”

”Um.. okay.”

Takumi caught the red ribbon with a frown, then slowly tied it around himself. 

“Okay, now repeat after me: Happy birthday! I’m your present!” Niles instructed with a pleasant smile. 

“H-happy birthday, I’m your present- WAIT WHAT?!”

Takumi froze, blushing profusely as the realization of what he just uttered hit him.

”Pft- HAHAHAHA! That’s perfect!” Niles cackled. 

“D-damn it, Niles! I’m going to kill you!” Takumi seethed, his blood boiling with rage and humiliation. 

“Ha, you can kill me after you get out of that ribbon!” the thief taunted. “Have fuuuun~”

”GET BACK HERE!!!” Takumi shouted, but Niles had already retreated down the halls, and when Takumi tried to pursue him, the prince found himself still tangled up in the ribbon. 

“Gods, this is embarrassing. I just hope Robyn doesn’t see me like this..” he muttered. 

“T-Takumi?”

Gods why?! the Hoshidan groaned inwardly as the familiar voice called his name and turned, only to be greeted with the sight of the Summoner wrapped up in a red ribbon, being nudged forward by Gaius and Caledori. 

“Go on, say it!” Caledori encouraged. 

What in the..?!

The Summoner lowered her head sheepishly and mumbled 

“H-happy birthday.. I-I’m your present..”

“YES!!!” Caledori and Gaius whooped, high-fiving.

”Nailed it!”

Gaius’s cheer was cut short by the look of absolute murder that was also known as Takumi’s death glare. 

“You’re both dead..” he deadpanned, and with a quick “oops!”, they took off down the hall.

Rolling his eyes, the prince made his way over to the poor Summoner, who still wouldn’t lift her head to look at him, and he didn’t even need to see her face to know how flustered she was.

”They got you too, didn’t they?” he sighed. “Here, let me help.”

Together, they managed to untangled the ribbons until they both lay on a heap on the ground. 

“Thanks..” Robyn mumbled, then sighed. “..We’re getting them back for that later, right?”

“Oh yeah.”

They parted ways soon after with a promise to meet up in the evening. There was an unspoken agreement that they’d be going to prepare gifts for each other. Robyn hurried to the kitchen, the wheels in her head turning. Her happiest memories were snuggled up by the fireplace with Takumi, especially after a hard night.

I want to make him something that reminds us both of that. Something that’ll show him just how special he is to me.

Takumi wove his way through the market, a huge grin on his face. The small box in his pouch filled him with a sense of warmth. The prince was never really considered warm, and when the topic of gifts came up, he always drew a blank. But the second he laid eyes on it, he knew he had to get it for her. The prince’s pace quickened, his heart fluttering as he made haste back to the castle. 

I’ve never felt this excited for birthdays in the past. Is it because of Robyn?

Robyn carried the box carefully atop a folded blanket, a serene smile on her lips as she headed towards the garden. That was the place where he’d seen her face for the first time, and where’d they’d shared a deeply vulnerable moment. There they would be undisturbed, or so she thought when her eyes spotted a figure sitting up ahead on a candlelit blanket. 

Wait that’s-

“..Takumi?” 

The prince looked up with a start, a small flush overtaking his cheeks when they landed on her. 

“R-Robyn?! Why are you here?!”

”I.. I was setting up something for us here..” the Summoner mumbled, a bit lost for words. 

Takumi stared at her incredulously for a moment, then burst out laughing. 

“Wh-what’s so funny?”

Now it was her then to blush until he finally stopped laughing with a small shake of his head. 

“We’re so alike, we could be twins!” he chuckled. 

Without thinking, Robyn let down her hood and replied 

“Good thing we’re not, because then I couldn’t-“

The words froze on her lips as realization flooded over her, turning her face crimson. 

“..Couldn’t what?” Takumi inquired with a frown as he observed her sudden change in demeanor. 

“Oh.. it’s nothing.” the Summoner replied as she settled on to the candlelit blanket. 

I can’t believe I just almost admitted my feelings so casually!

The prince was still staring at her, intrigued, his head tilted slightly, hazel eyes missing nothing. Thinking quickly, Robyn held out the box to him.

”I um.. I made you a gift? You.. you can open it now if you want..”

”You made me something?”

While he looked a little flustered, there was no denying the way his face lit up, chasing away her embarrassment. Robyn noticed how careful he was as he took the box delicately from her, opening it with great care. Takumi froze at the sight that greeted him, his mouth opening and closing several times. Tears welled in his eyes. 

“Robyn I.. I don’t know what to say..” Takumi whispered, reaching up to hastily dry them. “This is probably the most thoughtful gift anyone has given me..”

Inside the box was an assortment of handmade mochi in all various flavors. But that wasn’t what had brought the tears to his eyes. Robyn had spent a fair amount of time shaping then into the shape of Takumi’s late mother’s headpiece. And seeing the Hoshidan’s response to her efforts made all the work worth it. 

“I know she can’t be here with you today physically, so I thought by making these, you could still feel like she’s here celebrating with us. In her own way.”

Takumi let out a quiet sob, then embraced her tightly. 

“T-thank you. I won’t ever forget this..”

Robyn returned the hug, his scent wreathing around her as his silver hair brushed her cheek.

”I have something for you.” Takumi said, finally pulling back as he gave her a look so warm, it filled her whole body. 

“Oh?”

The prince placed two small round green balls in cups. 

“Just watch.” 

Mystified, Robyn watched as Takumi poured steaming water over them. Her confusion turned to absolute wonder as balls began to slowly unfurl until they formed..

”..A white azalea flower!” Robyn gasped as the flower settled on the bottom of the cup, and the scent of genmaicha hit her nose. “And it’s also my favorite tea?! Takumi, you’re amazing!”

”I’m.. glad you like it.” Takumi replied, smiling as her, a blush on his cheeks from her praise. 

They shared the mochi and tea together in an amicable silence.

”This is more than I could have asked for..” she breathed, soaking in the atmosphere. “..Happy birthday, Takumi.”

”I feel the same.. Happy birthday, Robyn.”

Later that night, Takumi headed for Caledori’s room, his heart fluttering nervously in his chest, and he kept checking over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t being followed, then knocked on her door. The redhead answered immediately, like she’d been expecting him. 

“There you are! Ready for your lesson?”

”Yes.” Takumi replied determinedly, letting her usher him inside and they closed the door. 

Back in her own room, Robyn traced the glowing white flowers that adorned the silver fabric, her eyes softening as pleasant smile made its way to her lips.

It would appear they both had something special planned for the ball…

[ra-tutubixi]

The End of a Pain Begets Another: Musings on the Mesoamerican Calendar Translator, Maya Section

After some time, I found Prudence M. Rice's book (Maya Political Science: Time, Astronomy, and the Cosmos) contains a section entirely dedicated to the Short Count, by another name, the Waslason K'atun, or the "Cycle of the K'atun." Recall, if you will, that a K'atun is composed of 20 Tuno'ob, each 13 Winalo'ob, each 20 K'ino'ob/Days. Thus, a K'atun is approximately similar to 2 decades in the Gregorian calendar.

The table in Prudence's book helpfully exemplifies the "properties" of each K'atun name: if we begin counting in K'atun 13 Ajaw, the next will be 11 Ajaw, then 9 Ajaw, so on so forth until 1 Ajaw, at the end of which we continue with 12 Ajaw, then 10 Ajaw, 8 Ajaw, thusly until 2 Ajaw, which will be succeeded by 13 Ajaw once more. Such a cycle of 13 K'atuno'ob (the plural form of K'atun) is called a May.

The table, however, is also weird in its datings.

The story of Mayapan is set to the tune of prophecy and divine influence, set in their respective K'atuno'ob, with even some trademark cyclicality to the historical beats; the specific dates are provided by the Books of Chilam Balam, colonial-period recollections of the traditional knowledge of certain cities. Were we to count back from, say, K'atun 8 Ajaw (1185-1204; in LC notation, 1.10.18) when the Tutul Xiu overthrow the ruling Itzá dynasty, we'd find that K'atun 1.9.14 is a 4 Ajaw — but Rice (or, rather, Robert Sharer) posits it is one before, 6 Ajaw; conversely, 1.9.1 is posited as 6 Ajaw, but counting back instead gives us 4 Ajaw, again showing an offset of 1. This is a rather minor thing and may instead be intended to show the date in which a given K'atun ends, similarly to how gregorian decades are formally defined: the 2010s began in 2011, and their last year was 2020, while the two-hundredth-second decade began in 2021, etc etc.

So. We have a correlation!.. Kind of.

Traditionally, K'atuns are defined as being named according to their last day, some k'in ending in Ajaw, with a given number. You may try the MCT from a few posts ago, and you may find that such a correlation... does not exist. And I haven't yet quite the idea why. There is, however, the quirk that the nearest Ajaw date to the onset of a new K'atun miiight be the namer? Really depends on which K'atun you choose.

Because of the offset's seeming, uh, progressively accumulating offset, there is very likely something at play with the way leap years are accounted for. See, the other Mesoamerican calendaric systems we have implemented require, primordially, agricultural syncing, but also cross-round syncing. This is because of a little thing called the New Fire ceremony, which occurred every 52 years as the short round re-incided on the same days of the long round it had that many years earlier (for the Etetl, this may have been on a 1-Tekpatl, som specific day in the month of Panketsalistli, 2-Akatl year; still have to confirm this). So, because of the agricultural angle, there needed to be leap days (and, weirdly enough, we can trace one such "extra" day in Cortez' records of when he landed and when the Siege ended, and see a graphic representation of it in a codex), and the festive angle requires the short round "ignore" these extra days, for an offset between the rounds would begin to rear its head if it didn't.

But the Maya may not have had such a ceremony. Now, their long round is hypothesised to be also agricultural, and due to astronomical funnies it is likely their LR years also had a leap. Additionally, the Long Count does seem to have accounted for leaps, as dates basically line up perfectly between the Western calendars and Long Count, provided we convert from Julian to Proleptic Gregorian if needs be. So. We're left with the possibility that this specific short round did not need to correlate with the long round, but instead with the Long Count, and therefore with the derived Short Count.

I have yet to make tests to this hypothesis, but the lack of mentions of any convergence-specific importance between SR and LR may vaguely give support to it.

Also, bug report: the transition from the 28th to the 29th of January in the Maya LR is broken (there seems to be a theme here); instead of moving correctly in the month of Mol (12 to 13 or 13 to 14, depends if it's a leap year), it jumps directly to next year's Pop; this offset is "corrected" when reaching the transition from March to April, which correctly reflects as the actual year's 16 Sak'. I don't know why yet. This whole thing will be a hotfix + patch tba soon, but for now the Maya LR convertor will remain broken. Whoops.

Shouldn't take much time to fix it, just an adjustment to the Delta-values. Probably. But it's work and I can't do much of that rn. Nor for any particular reason, my vibe hasn't circled back to coding yet. I did add a thing to it to save your last converted date, or today if there wasn't any. Yay.

Bibliography:

Maya Politico-Religious Calendrics, in Prudence M. Rice (2004): "Maya Political Science: Time, Astronomy, and the Cosmos".

— (1999): Rethinking Classic lowland Maya pottery censers

Religious Institutions and Elite Power at Postclassic Maya Communities, in Marilyn A. Masson (2015): "In the Realm of Nachan Kan: Postclassic Maya Archaeology at Laguna De On, Belize"

Eleanor Harrison-Buck (2014): Reevaluating Chronology and Historical Content in the Maya Books of Chilam Balam

Harmeet Kaur (2019-12-28): When does the decade begin and end anyway?

Erik Boot: Fray Diego de Landa y la Cosmovisión Maya-Yucateca a inicios del Período Colonial, in Horacio Cabezas Carcache (ed., 2011): "Cosmovisión Mesoamericana".

+ relevant others from previous calendar post. consider this a continuation of it.

[ghostofnibelheim]

≠

That's My Opinion! || Always Accepting~

"... Who? Oh. The Team Captain in that mission." Almost immediately, Sephiroth's expression appears to shut down. His eyes stare emptily; his arms are folded tight across his chest, shoulders square. "He was..."

What could he even say? The more he searched for a suitable answer, the more the boy could feel that strange knot in his stomach squeeze uncomfortably. In their short time together, Glenn had shaken the foundation that made Sephiroth the warrior he'd been trained to be to its very core. Impetuousness, defiance, compassion... they were all critical flaws in the handbook to become the perfect tool of war, and yet...

'I know you have it in you.'

Somehow, Glenn had made those things seem so alluring. So... comforting to experience. The first person who had treated him like the normal kid Sephiroth had nearly given up on. The one he'd never been allowed to be.

Was it so wrong that he felt so possessive of those thoughts? So sternly protective?

Maybe so. But who was here to tell him off for that? Certainly not Glenn.

"... Can't say." He mutters in the end.

But a promise is a promise, isn't it? He has to give an honest opinion. And if Sephiroth was too jaded and jealous of his very first friend in life to openly speak up about him, the same can't be said for the man he'd grow to be down the line.

"That's a name I haven't heard in a long time." Such is the fate of SOLDIERs, in the end. No matter how high you raise to glory... you're always doomed to go quietly. Swept under the carpet of ShinRa Electric Power Company with the rest of their rotten secrets.

Sephiroth has no doubt the same will happen to him someday. The project for a memorial museum on the 60th floor has been the main gossip at the Headquarters for a month. Sephiroth, the legendary hero, has not heard a peep about it. No requests to provide information; no appointments with photographers or organizers. Sometimes he muses his name will be listed alongside the best-performing war machine models Director Scarlet could boast.

Some other SOLDIERs would be dismayed to be forgotten, but Sephiroth... at this point, he craves it.

Dismissed and free to go where he pleases, what would he do then? It's impossible to not think of Glenn. The things he's done, the places he's seen... The stories he'd tell. Sometimes, it is nice to fantasize about a calm conversation between the two of them, like old comrades at the end of a long day.

"He's always been too soft for his own good. It's a good thing that he compensates for that by having the hardest head I've ever known. The kind of man who'd manage to repel Death simply by arguing her into exhaustion. He makes stubbornness... a virtue, somehow." He says, looking into the distance with a faint smile. That possessiveness is still there; the need to protect the secret that was their friendship has survived deep in his guts... but now it isn't painful. Only a lingering warmth that intoxicated him, like drinking down a glass of liquor too quickly.

"I think it's funny that this whole time where I'd been thinking of how to express my gratitude for the things he's taught me, his heaviest burden was the need to apologize to me. Heh..." A quiet chuckle escapes him. "Guess it goes to show we are still butting heads, after all these years."

But it's okay to be on different wavelengths. Preferred, even. Roads that go in different directions are the ones most likely to cross someday.