#And I think losing him had a major emotional toll on her... she was so angry and let herself feel it

[meguhime]

16. friendship for Au Ra April and 16. defend for Vierapril

Heavensward spoilers ahead, sorry!

[lets-try-some-writing]

So I'm a sucker for Dadimus Prime, and a sucker for major angst, and I have had this idea for a while that...what would have happened if Bee had stayed dead, either forever or just for a longer period of time, after Megatron shot him?

How would the team have reacted to, and dealt with, such an event, and especially how would Optimus have reacted?

I always liked the trope where a usually stoic and collected character finally breaks after losing a child, and figured that for once I might allow myself to indulge in my guilty pleassure. :P

You are an individual after my own heart. I am also a great lover of Dadimus and that same trope. You came to the right writer with this request. But good gracious I suddenly feel the need to turn this into a one-shot or something.

Fallen Sunbeam

When Bumblebee was shot, Optimus felt his spark cry out in absolute agony. His only sparkling, his joy and hope for the future had been extinguished by the mech he had tried to redeem for millennia. He hardly registered what he was doing when he tore into Megatron, mercy and reason completely gone as one burning desire blazed in his spark.

Megatron would die, or Optimus would fall trying and join his sparkling in the Allspark. He did not care which option ended up becoming reality.

When he came back to himself he stood over the body of his foe as he kicked Megatron's corpse off his star saber where it was impaled. The body fell and the Decepticons fled without their leader to guide them. But Optimus merely stood on the edge of the Omega Lock for a long while, not moving as his spark wept and burned from the loss of his child. He clutched at his chassis and was distantly aware of the streams of coolant that trickled down his cheeks as the pain and emotional torment of his loss took its toll. He couldn't think, he couldn't act, all he could feel was overwhelming grief as he finally fell to his knees, still holding his chassis as he stared blankly out into the void.

He was not aware of it, but all around the team were in their own various states of shock and grief. Ratchet looked more lost than ever before, his optics blurring with coolant as he looked to where Bumblebee's body floated in the Cybermatter in horror. Arcee was distraught but stoic, not a tear was shed as she did her best to step up and gather the team with both of their eldest members being out of commission. And Smokescreen seemed to be in a state of shock, not believing that Bumblebee could really be gone even as he saw the body remaining lifeless in the pool.

After what could have been minutes or hours, all the team save Optimus came to at least recognize the loss and got to their pedes, ready to finish their quest in honor of their fallen warrior. Optimus was the only one who remained completely drowning in his grief and he did not budge until Ratchet came to him and held him as best as he was able while muttering sweet nothings to try and bring him back. It took a while, but the Matrix numbed Optimus enough that he eventually stood with Ratchet's aid and took a shuddering vent. With renewed, albeit grim resolve, Optimus went and retrieved his sparkling's frame and carried him back to base with utmost respect.

The omega lock was secured but ignored while Optimus brought his sparkling back to the base and laid his lifeless body on the medical berth for funeral preparations. With the war there was no opportunity to have proper funerals, but when it came to Bumblebee, Optimus was unwilling to only perform the bare necessities. Before the day was done, Optimus vainly scanned Bumblebee once more as if looking for a miracle. He received odd results that told him that Bumblebee's frame was technically alive in the same way that an unsparked protoform was. Bumblebee's frame could live again with no issues should a spark be introduced, but without that spark, it was essentially dead. As such Optimus grit his denta and gently covered Bumblebee's frame with a sheet while he began preparations.

The children were completely heartbroken when they returned from their own battle, saw Bumblebee's absence, and then his frame. Rafael was inconsolable and clambered onto the medical berth to hug Bumblebee's body even as Miko and Jack weakly tried to call him back. Ratchet was the one forced to remove him even as he too struggled to keep his composure. In the end the children and the team took what they needed onto the nemesis and set course for Cybertron, intent of finishing their mission to honor the fallen. Optimus only remained present while the coordinates were punched in, at which point he ensured that Bumblebee's body was safe in the nemesis's medical bay and retreated to continue his solemn work.

Ultra Magnus, Bulkhead, and Wheeljack were equally distraught up on seeing Bumblebee's frame. They did not cry nor did they make a sound, merely enduring the loss in silence so that others might grieve in peace. They would have their chance later, and so instead focused on trying to comfort the children as best as they were able.

Optimus was not seen for nearly three days. No bot was entirely sure what he was doing, but he sent a message to Ratchet over a private link asking him to clean Bumblebee's frame. That gave them a hint, but none tried to ask for further details as they worked and they grieved.

Ratchet blamed himself and spent many long hours crying as he did his best to focus on cleaning Bumblebee's frame and fixing it up, polishing and making it presentable. He had helped raise the youngling, he had stood by Optimus's side as a Nurturer for Bumblebee and a secondary caretaker when required. He had not bonded to Bee on the level Optimus had, but he still felt the agonizing loss of the bond he did have. Ratchet could hardly force himself to work with the crushing emptiness that came without the scout's presence weighing on him. But out of sheer devotion to the sparkling who should have never fought in a war in the first place, Ratchet pressed on and did what was required of him.

Arcee stood strong at first but broke after Optimus left to do whatever it was he was doing. She retreated to some unused quarters and cried long and hard, beating a punching bag until it broke as she sobbed and then destroying anything else within sight on until she literally shattered her servos. At that point she fell to her knees and cried until she had nothing left to give, eventually curling up on the floor emotionally exhausted. She did not go to Ratchet for medical aid and endured her pain without a peep as she grieved the loss of the brightest hope for the future in her life.

Bulkhead had his own emotional breakdown in another part of the nemesis. Wheeljack stayed by his side all throughout, comforting his friend and doing his best to reassure Bulkhead that it was not his fault and that there was nothing he could have done. Bulkhead appreciated the comfort, but it did not stop him from mourning for a day and then grieving alongside Miko for another. He had failed Bumblebee as a guardian and a teammate, and in doing so he had failed in his duty as a wrecker.

Ultra Magnus did everything in his power to shake off the grief, patrolling, guiding the nemesis toward Cybertron, and getting the Vehicons that were on their side in line and prepared to begin rebuilding Cybertron. But once he ran out of things to do, Ultra Magnus found himself at an empty desk in a far forgotten corner of the nemesis where he quietly grieved with his face in his servos. He made not a sound as his frame shook and coolant dripped onto the desk he sat at. Much like Ratchet, he had been there throughout all of Bumblebee's youth. He had seen the scout grow into himself and go through all his ups and downs. He had been a teacher to him, a guardian, and a replacement for Optimus when the Prime was out at war when Bee was younger. His spark ached and cried out at the emptiness that came from Bee being gone.

And then there was Smokescreen. The rookie was unsure how to feel for the first day after Bumblebee's death. He stood around and was left in a state of shock above all else, unsure where to go or what to do. Then when he lay down to try and recharge later that cycle, he found himself awake and aching in loss, missing the happy chirps of the mech he had come to see as a friend and brother during their short time together. He didn't recharge that night and instead found himself crying as the memories really hit him hard. He did no leave the room he had taken up residence in until long past noon either. He didn't want to.

As for Optimus? He hid himself away in a dark corner of the nemesis and there he first prepared himself for what was to come. In accordance to tradition, first he gave himself a day to grieve. He cried, he cursed Unicron, Megatron, and the universe at large, and then he sobbed himself into recharge. When he woke he removed every inch of color from his frame, his red and blue paint scrubbed and sanded off as a sign of mourning. Then once he was left in only the gray tones of the dead save for the glowing energon lines that crossed his frame, he painted murals upon his plating in black. Every mural depicted experiences he had with Bumblebee and his relationship to him. It was not necessarily an Iaconian tradition, and was in reality a mishmash of cultures from all across Cybertron. But to Optimus it felt fitting. Then to top it all off, Optimus carefully carved surface level scars around his optics and highlighted them in black. They would heal with time, but for at least a stellar cycle they would be a stark reminder of his loss.

Once Optimus was satisfied with his appearance, he gathered up his painting tools and went to he medical bay for the most important part of the process. He spent a day painstakingly painting glowing glyphs reading Bumblebee's every achievements and glory in life onto the scout's frame in glowing blue paint. Then he injected Bumblebee's body with a reasonable dose of energon to allow a faint glow to emanate from his frame, an event that spoke of what he looked like when he lived. Only once this was done did Optimus return to his team and stand before them in time for Cybertron to be restored.

The children were given the honor of pressing the activation key as none of the bots wanted to do so after the loss of their scout. Rafael ended up being the one to do it at Jack and Miko's prompting. The bots watched Cybertron's restoration with grim resolve, and then once complete, they too went to go and scrub their plating clean of color to emulate their leader.

Optimus personally carried Bumblebee's body to the surface of Cybertron and built a small altar for his frame to lay upon. Then in front of the whole team, Optimus laid his servos upon his sparkling's helm and there proclaimed him a warrior of Cybertron. After which he put the star saber in Bumblebee's lifeless servos and covered the altar in protective glass so that his sparkling's frame may not be harmed or damaged. The team bore witness to this stoically, their time for personal mourning having past.

Once Bumblebee was laid to rest, Optimus left to retrieve the Allspark immediately, unwilling to remain on the world that had so many bad memories and the body of his only sparkling. Ratchet returned the children home and remained on earth to process the loss and keep away from Cybertron for similar reasons to Optimus. Meanwhile the rest of the team stayed on Cybertron under Ultra Magnus's command and prepared for the arrival of refugees from the war. Time passed quickly and Optimus returned without issue, the Allspark in hand. The team were gathered again, and together the Allspark was returned in an explosion of newsparks.

The team celebrated, even Ratchet as they took the arrival of newsparks to mean the coming of a new age. Optimus on the other hand was almost bitter. He had given everything for this moment, but if he had killed Megatron sooner or performed better, his sparkling would still be alive. He couldn't find it in himself to be joyful as the newspark emerged and instead returned to the grave of his sparkling, unwilling to move on. The team let him and did not comment when he did not return to his normal colors, instead keeping the gray and continually highlighting his mourning scars even once the murals he had painted had washed off. They did not so much as touch Optimus when he fell at the foot of Bumblebee's grave and sobbed ugly tears, muttering over and over again one thing.

"We did it little warrior. Cybertron is restored... we've won..."

Optimus was not begrudged by anyone when he retreated from the team, shutting himself off near completely and instead throwing himself into restoring the one place he had truly seen as home. He returned to the remains of Iacon and worked in the hall of records, repairing and restoring what was lost. Then once it was acceptable, he moved Bumblebee's grave there, taking his covered altar deep into the archives where it would not be touched by mecha or the tests of time.

Cybertron grew around Optimus, the team working to establish a government and set things straight as refugees came and newsparks emerged. Optimus did his part when required, emerging from the hall of records and sharing the history of their world and stepping in to handle conflict when needed. But he never completely shed his gray paint or allowed his mourning scars to fully fade. He devoted himself to his work, not wanting to leave the place he had taken to be a sanctuary as a way to deal with his pain and the great many traumas that plagued him from the war. When he wasn't working or training apprentices, he was deep in the archives with what remained of his only sparkling. There he would speak of all that happened, telling Bumblebee what was happening on the surface and of all the changes that were happening.

Young apprentices swiftly learned of the warrior in the deep archives, and it became a right of passage to travel to see Bumblebee's grave and pay respects. An archivist who had finished their training would go to the altar on which Bumblebee's frame lay and there they would tell the fallen warrior their oath and their ambitions. Then if Optimus acknowledged their claim, they were recognized and told the stories of the fallen warrior before them. It did not take long for Bumblebee to be heralded as both a hero and a guardian of the archives due to both the stories and the star saber he held. None dared try and touch the relic and outsiders were never allowed near. Only the archivists saw the fallen warrior, for they knew how much he meant to Optimus. They respected the honor they were granted and they never once commented on Optimus's forever dark plating because of it.

But eventually the team worried for Optimus, and only grew more so once a full vorn had passed and Optimus had yet to move on. And so in an act of desperation designed to draw Optimus out of the shell he had built so thoroughly around himself, Ratchet came to his oldest remaining friend with a gift and a duty.

It was a dark day on Cybertron, the day of Bumblebee' death in fact when Ratchet came. He arrived at the archives with a small bundle in his arms and entered in without issue. The young archivists ushered him deep to where Optimus generally worked, and there they let him be. The Prime was mourning silently, his field held close as he worked and gently cleaned the glass that separated Bumblebee's frame from the outside world. Seeing this Ratchet sighed and pulled Optimus away, careful not to dislodge his precious cargo.

Ratchet: Optimus, it has been a vorn. This needs to stop... you need to let him go.

Optimus: I cannot do that... I failed him as both his Prime and his Sire... it is only right I remain in mourning to repent.

Ratchet: No Optimus. He wouldn't want that for you. He wouldn't want you to spent the rest of your functioning in the dark down here forever grieving his death.

Optimus: ...

Ratchet: Cybertron is restored. It's time for a new beginning, a new chapter in your life.

With his declaration made, Ratchet carefully passed his small charge to the Prime whose optics blew wide at what he saw. Bundled up in organic made cloth was a small sparkling, hardly a few cycles old and with plating still soft to the touch. Already the sparkling's armor was a shining red and orange, bright and powerful like a flame in the gloom of the deep archives. The sparkling cooed upon seeing Optimus's face, little sparkling fangs on display as the little ones optics glowed with innocence.

Optimus wanted to object and give the sparkling back. He had failed once after all...

But as the sparkling held onto one of his digits with such purity and joy, Optimus felt at peace for the first time since his firstborn had fallen. It still didn't feel right. He still couldn't be completely content with himself, not after Bumblebee's death. But... as he looked upon the sparkling, he found himself wanting to try again, to give this sparkling the life he couldn't give Bee.

Ratchet: You will take him?

Optimus: ... I will.

Ratchet: What is his name?

Optimus: His name... his name is Hot Rod. My blazing flame, my new hope for the future.

[chialeah]

TCR EPISODE 9

Fuck- this episode was so tense and heartbreaking but so so good! Definitely the toughest episode to watch so far. Masterclass in acting from all the cast involved! Major spoilers below!

1. With minimal dialogue from Danny this episode Tom brilliantly spoke through his eyes/body language to convey Danny’s inner thoughts/emotions. I truly was heartbroken watching Danny watch Candy betray him and stay loyal to Marlin. Also his face during the final scene! I truly couldn’t handle it.

2. The actress playing the DA is eating fr. I will definitely have to check out more of her work! Christopher Abbott has also been giving a wonderful performance these past few episodes. I’m such a big fan of his work and TCR has been a great addition. They truly are the backbone of the trial and have been doing a great job raising bigger issues/questions about Danny’s overall place.

3. Annabelle, Angelo, and Jerome taking the witness stand was a great addition. You could tell that they all were sort of empathetic to the internal struggles Danny has been dealing with(whether or not he deserved it in those specific situations). Jerome-I love you fr! I’ve loved his performances from these past two episodes and am grateful that he has been able to show a more gentle/vulnerable side to Danny and his alters.

4. Candy! I appreciate that the episode established that she was at the receiving end of abuse too. “Guilt or Grief, which one can you bear” is such a banger line and it was interesting to see how Candy reacted to it. I HATE that she did that to her own son but I get why she was so afraid. She wasn’t ready to lose everything so she decided push her own son further away by lying. Truly a shame fr! I hate Marlin so so so much! Appreciate the actor giving this role his all because he’s truly made Marlin such a despicable character lol. The look of heartbreak between Candy and Danny after she took the stand will haunt me.

5. The final scene! I had such a visceral reaction to this scene it was crazy! I knew that the binder clip was going to come back in a dangerous way. The look of solemn terror but also relief after Danny harms himself was so heartbreaking I legit started to sob. I do appreciate the show not showing the action of abuse or self harm but rather the characters reactions to it. I think this is a really smart way to emphasize the emotional/psychological toll it takes. I have a lot of questions about the outcome of Danny’s action in this scene but i guess we’ll find out more next week!

6. Spoilers!- From the set pictures and locations used during the filming of episode 10 it seems that whatever the outcome of the trial is Danny hopefully (eventually) gets sent to a mental facility upstate! Looks like some time has passed and Rya goes to visit Danny. He even has his scars from where he harmed himself! I’ll put some of the set pics below! This is truly saving me from having a full freak out about this episode lol.

Hopeful that we get to have some closure for Ari, Jonny, and the other alters in some capacity in the next episode. Hopefully Candy steps up in some way in the next episode as well. I also am looking forward for Danny’s defense (including Rya) to get a fucking win in the incoming parts of the trial. This show has truly done a great job giving example to the nuanced history mental illness has had within the social/judicial/political systems at play here in the U.S. Can’t believe we’re at the finale already! Looking forward to seeing these storylines get wrapped up. Great job all around! Bravo Tom!

My episode ranking so far:

9-8-7-6-3-5-4-2-1

[alluringjae]

until dawn - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 14k

⤑ genre: fluff, humor, angst | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, college!au

⤑ warnings: jaemin mentions onlyfans as a joke, references to actual historical figures (some try to flirt with jeno lol) and literature, explicit language

⤑ author’s note: wow, i’ve had this idea for almost two years! this one was inspired by one of my favorite childhood movies, night at the museum. it definitely required a lot of research and brainstorming, and finally i brought it to life! it was so fun to play around with the characters, and even if majority of them are real people, this is all still fiction.

i also wanna mention one of my moots, marge for enlightening me about her life as an architecture major.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome​ (dm me if you want to be added) 

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Dormitory rent was another thing to worry about aside from the inflated university tuition per semester. Although he’s lucky to have his parents backing him up already on it, paying the monthly rent for his dorm was the remaining objective on Jeno’s list.

Plus, money for food. The man was a heavy eater, following the whole “gym is life” mantra.

Splitting it already with two of his dorm mates turned best friends, Renjun and Jaemin, his plate felt lighter. But the question still lies: where on earth was he going to get the money?

He’s practically checked out every available part-timing job in university and anywhere near campus. Barista at the same café Jaemin works at, teaching assistant for an art school for kids, convenience store cashier, library assistant, all taken in a heartbeat. The burden of his friends paying his debt these past months took a toll on him, almost to the point he almost considered making an Onlyfans.

“Yah, just find something else! Part-timers are in demand right now!” Renjun intensely closed his laptop before his older friend gets any suggestive thoughts.

“I mean, you didn’t work out your body to look the way it is for nothing.” Jaemin pitched otherwise, lifting the front back up. “When do you want to start filming? Loads of chicks would dig a piece of you!”

The contradicting opinions of his friends were like the devil and angel debating on his shoulders. Useless, he gave this worry a rest and returned to drawing new plates. A common thing when you’re an architecture major. Those deadlines were nearing. Looks like he’ll pull another all-nighter again.

Good thing most of his classes were late in the morning until 6 pm.

As if someone from above heard his petition, Jeno saw a help wanted sign posted on the bulletin board outside of the university museum. He initially went there to document some artwork and architecture models from Greek and Roman times, further analyzing how they’re still apparent in modern buildings.

The sign explained the need for one part-timer from any college to cover the night shift of the museum due to the current night guard’s full semester absence. He only had to come in 3x a week, choosing his days since he was still a student. Even the pay was above average, considering that most part-timers never go beyond midnight. Jeno would, on the other hand, always staying for his projects or gaming with the boys. Drinking sometimes during late-night Fridays with his entire college crew.

The pay would leave him a load of extra cash for himself, thus he sent an application to the museum office right before he left. A week later, while he was out with the boys, he got a text from the office that they wanted to meet him again for a final interview first thing on Monday.

Perhaps it was having architecture as his course and a healthy physique that landed him the part-timer position. Mainly, the latter because guards required strong endurance and fighting skills when worse comes to worst. It would start at 9 pm until 6 am the following day, and there was a designated uniform of it too. Blue blazer with matching trousers, white dress top, and loafers.

Aside from the typical museum etiquette the head director instructed him about, there was an unofficial list of tips written on paper given from the night guard on leave when the director handed you over his box of office-related things.

Only read at the night guard office once you’re the remaining staff left.

He did as he was told like an obedient son, flipping the succeeding page.

 To my temporary replacement,

This part-timing job is nothing regular than the other jobs. You’ll witness things as you’ve never imagined them to be, almost like witchcraft. You’ll be lost and maybe frightened, or that’s how I felt the first time because no one led me through it all those years ago. Lucky for you, I made this small guide on how to properly take care of the place that the other staff doesn’t know about.

Before you proceed, I request you take a 5-minute stroll around the lobby first to understand what I’m talking about. After such, go back to the office or somewhere quiet then browse through the guide as quickly as you could.

Art is timeless here, so they need to be taken care of.

Good luck!

 Park Sanghoon

Night Guard on Leave

 Nothing could’ve prepared Jeno for what’s to come once he unlocked the office door. They say that art brings so much color to our life, allowing us to feel all sorts of emotions in a glimpse. But no one ever interpreted art to be literally alive and walking in the halls.

Behold, random wax figures and marble sculptures that he’s seen in the past roamed the hallways, as well as the paintings were interacting with each other side by side. Even the standee of a puppy from the entrance played fetch with one of those sculptures. He swore he looked like Hermes the messenger god from his arrow headpiece and sandals.

It made more sense why the guard on leave explained his feelings during the first day because it resembled Jeno’s. But unlike that guard, Jeno sucked it up. No one ever does well on the first day, even if others say otherwise. The first day was a learning experience, so he collected his thoughts even though the goosebumps triggered his body during that one rotation.

There was an indoor garden, already locked by the day guard earlier. The only room without any art piece, where students lounge to study the plants or relax in nature.

The sculptures section ahead, showcasing various fictional figures specifically from Greek mythology, chattered away about family drama and beliefs. The sculptures of Hades and Zeus, according to their title plate, argued relentlessly about power while Athena always intervened by shouting or even throwing arrows or daggers to any of the lightbulbs there.

That was one rule in the guide, but Jeno didn’t know yet until he came inside the room and swerved the attention of the arguing duo.

“Well, what do we have here?” Zeus, in the center, straightened his posture on his throne to present himself in a more regal way. “Are you perhaps the temporary replacement of Sir Sanghoon?”

“Sir Sanghoon’s stand-in is rather good looking, don’t you think?” Hera mused, stepping down from her throne beside Zeus to take a closer look at the taller male. Her cold fingers trailed his jaw until his chest, where his heart was beating intensely. She even pinched his toned bicep, mouthing wow.

“Truly handsome you are, my dear. So full of life, please introduce yourself to us.”

While Jeno introduced himself to everyone in that room, he answered any sorts of questions they had for him too. From his age, educational background, hobbies, Aphrodite just had to ask him if he had a girlfriend because he was that handsome.

“Nope, I’m single. With my degree in architecture, the requirements are so heavy I can’t even try dating.”

Mentioning his degree excited the gods, telling him how their people created and designed all these temples to house them and perform rituals. They loved it so much. This was a copy-paste of what Jeno learned from his history classes, and for a first, he’s hearing the perspective of the Greek gods.

Mind-boggling that he hasn’t fully freaked out yet. That’s what Athena anticipated when Sanghoon told her about his short leave, putting her in charge of everyone for the meantime while the replacement settled down.

The college museum was built during the late 70s as a gift from one of the alumni. It was for the purpose to preserve history and educate college students outside the classroom. The Greek mythology exhibit was the oldest one, making Athena have more seniority. Over her stay, she’s seen every new guard lose their senses during the first night. Some not even returning for a second night. She got used to every outcome, and so far, only 8 people lasted after the first night. A couple of students in the 70s and 80s, Sanghoon in the 90s, and now Jeno was one of them.

“Jeno, aren’t you terrified by us? You just got a job in a museum that comes to life every night, and it’s not a normal thing.”

“Well, I’m still shaken up about it. But it’s my first night, and it’s when I learn everything about the place from head to toe. Plus, I really need the money.”

“Money for what? But you’re young, a student even!”

“Yes, I am. However, I do pay for the rent in my dorm. So, this job is like my first big responsibility, and I want to perform well.”

Athena commended his sense of authority, capable of leading himself. She noticed how well-spoken and poised he is, respecting and listening to everything the gods and goddesses said even if they were nonsense. She never liked to compromise with her power, taking a while to like Sanghoon back in the day. Though Jeno looked like a natural leader on his first night. If he could take care of himself well, he’s skilled to take care of the rest in the museum as well.

Plus she had full control on the nights he won’t be there, especially the weekend.

With his potential, Athena mentored him the entire night about the gist of the entire museum. Every upcoming leader needs an intelligent mentor, right? She was naturally gifted with worthy leadership skills, managing Jeno like her own child.

Athena explained how the museum came to life, which was through a royal golden plate from the Oriental room. It was a gift from a popular sorceress in China to an affluent family from the Han dynasty, who wished them a long life after she was saved from invaders due to them. The plate preserved over time, becoming an artifact. Its power remained immortal, mutating to bring life wherever it goes. In this case, the museum since its arrival in the late 70s as well.

“That’s why the Oriental room must be locked always so no one could touch or break the plate.”

After she ordered Jeno to lock the mentioned room, alongside the Foreign Art Exhibit Room which he checked out for his class, she led him to the best view of the entire museum. Center of the second floor, where stairs were on both sides. Jeno marveled at the vivacious atmosphere, witnessing actual art living, breathing, and enjoying themselves.

“Unreal, right?” She leaned in the railing, scanning through the chatty paintings.

Jeno also leaned down, deep in thought and wonder. “Absolutely, Athena. How come no one knows about this? Art coming to life? It’ll invite more students to the museum.”

“That goes against a golden rule as a night guard in this museum.” She replied bluntly. “The life that goes on inside this museum at night must remain a secret to the public.”

Jeno predicted this kind of response, having watched too many films where anything supernatural mustn’t be revealed. Although he liked the advantage of knowing something this powerful, he’d never abuse it.

Athena’s intellect was beyond the world, seamlessly reading Jeno’s expression and what he was thinking. He had good intentions even if he’s a bit mischievous. She needed to keep a keen eye on him, but for now, he needed to explore on his own.

“Anyways, Sanghoon still left out some other details. So if you have any questions, I’ll be at my exhibit trying to shut my father and my uncle up again.”

“Can you not use any weapons to do so?”

“Can’t make any promises, Jeno.” She slyly cracked her knuckles and neck as if she was fighting another battle.

Jeno was silently left with himself, finally browsing through Sanghoon’s guide while seated in one of the museum benches.

It consisted of 25 rules, wherein the first two rules consisted of locking up. One, for the doors and gates of the museum, so no art piece could escape. If they do, they will turn into dust when the sun is out according to Athena. Two, locking the Oriental and Foreign Art Rooms, which was already done.

Rule #5: Let Mochi the puppy from the lobby tag along with you; feed him treats if you have any.

On cue, the little guy barked from the corridor and raced to his side. Jeno carried him, babying him for a little and letting him lick his face a few times before putting him back down. He’s surely going to the pet store first thing in the morning with the museum allowance the director gave him.

Since he was on the second floor, he read and followed the rules that fit in before returning downstairs. On the other side of the floor were the wax figures exhibitions: one for prominent men in history while the other for prominent women. Well, more people to get acquainted with.

It’s the exchange of gasps and profanities he received when he chose the latter room. Seeing their faces, these were women he’s learned in school and online. Now in the (fake) flesh. Except for one girl he’s never heard of, unbothered in her corner sketching her life away in a sketchpad. But before he could check who she was, a suggestive touch on his arm distracted him.

“My, oh my, Hera wasn’t lying when she said that the new night guard was a fine specimen.” By her dark blue eyeshadow and eyeliner with the snake-like crown, Cleopatra studied him like he was one of the most renowned art pieces. Even patting his chest, abdomen, and arms with both her hand, Jeno caught a suggestive glint in her eyes and a smirk across her red lips.

Rule #13: Reject Cleopatra’s seductive advances at all costs.

“Goodness, Cleopatra. It’s only his first night, and you’re scaring him.” With her accent, round eyes, and a chic formal outfit, she carried a posh aura while unhesitatingly scolding the Queen of the Nile.

“Come on now, Diana. He’s stunning, who wouldn’t go after him?” If no one knew her, you’re not reading up on your world history. She’s said to have been a lovely and intelligent woman, gone so soon. Jeno definitely understood why after she detached Cleopatra’s raging hands off him.

Rule #14: Treat Princess Diana and Hera like your own parent.

“Your highness.” Jeno nodded at her out of respect, only making her chuckle uncontrollably.

“No need to address me like that, love. Now, come here.” She widened her arms for Jeno, hugging him amiably. He sensed her motherly warmth, accepting such a gesture. “You remind me so much of my youngest son, Harry. Welcome to the night shift of the museum, love.”

Similar to the Greek mythology exhibit, he introduced himself and responded to any questions that the women wax figures may have. Good for him, they weren’t crossing any borders and kept him at ease.

“A student like you working at night to pay rent?” Katherine Johnson, an African-American NASA mathematician whose calculations led to the success of a lot of famous spaceflights, cannot believe her ears. Students must only focus on school, nothing else. “What about your studies, boy?”

Rule #15: Engage in academic discussions with Katherine Johnson whenever you can.

“Most of my classes are in the afternoon, Miss Katherine. So I’ll sleep in the entire morning later and study during my breaks.”

“Mr. Jeno, what do you like to do outside of work?” Anne Frank, a German-Dutch teenager whose revolutionary diary that documented her life in hiding from the Nazis gained popularity worldwide after publication dreamily asked from her section of the exhibit. Her life was robbed of greatness merely because of her religion and war.

Rule #16: Bring delicious food or gifts to Anne Frank.

“Well, I like to bike with my friends, exercise, and draw whatever comes into mind!”

Everyone he’s met so far acquired pleasure in knowing about who he was and his passion for architecture, ridding the “freaking out” phase Athena assumed he had. Yet not everyone in this exhibit bothered to give him a shot.

Jeno’s attention from Anne talking about her crush towards Peter van Daan, a teenage boy who lived with her, switched to the section beside her, where an unacquainted figure was zealously sketching as if something was due to the following day. It reflected how he’d look when he’s cramming one of his plates due to first thing in the morning. While he properly excused himself, he quietly gazed at the way this woman scrunched her eyebrows when she erased something then drew it again. She was someone he’s never seen or heard before, reading the information plate in front of him about her.

 (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Explorer and Author. (1854-1900)

 Wealthy women in the Victorian Era only served one purpose in society: marry a man from a prestigious family, have his children and join whatever interests they have. However, for (Y/N), she wasn’t going to conform to those standards.

Born into the affluent house of (Y/L/N), she was the youngest of 8 children. She was said to be the kindest and sweetest sibling out of everyone, not capable of hurting anyone or anything. She said it herself that she can’t throw away a dying flower because it’s too painful. While 5 of her older brothers were sent to school, she stayed at home with her 2 older sisters Cecilia and Amelia where she learned how to play the piano and take voice lessons from impressive teachers. Due to the huge age gaps between them (12 and 8 respectively), she never felt close with them. She was only closest to the 6th and 7th siblings, her twin brothers Benjamin and Liam whom she only had a 2-year gap. She was also best friends with one of the scullery maids her age, Lily, because she found her amusing that than the boring rich girls her mother forced to interact with.

The moment it bothered her that she wanted to live a more meaningful life was when Amelia got married. She was 12 years old at the time, and it left her as the last unwed daughter in the family. Badly did she want to revolt, which she gradually did. Instead of practicing piano, she’d sneak in to read every book in her father’s office. She secretly studied the notes of her older brothers from school and even dressed as a boy numerously thanks to Benjamin and Liam to join their classes or field trips.

This was her routine up until the age of 18 when she stomped her foot down and expressed to her parents that she wasn’t going to let Victorian society dictate her. The night before her parents were bound to send her to her great aunt’s home down South to sort her out, she successfully snuck out her house thanks to Lily, Benjamin, and Liam. It’s another good thing that she saved a lot of money for that moment.

Off she went across Europe first, then sailed to America and even parts of Asia. Initially under the name Lilibe, coined from picking the first two letters of her brothers and best friend, she documented her days and nights through her journals and sketches. Over time, she sent them to her brothers for publication. It started the franchise, “The Adventures of the Young and Free Lilibe”. There are 10 books under it.

She learned French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, and Korean by herself as she made friends from those places. It was rare of someone like her to be fluent in Oriental languages, surprising locals every time she spoke to them. She was the only explorer to vividly describe life in different Asian lands in English, talking about their history and culture. With her accurate drawings of diverse citizens and their daily lives, it educated a lot of those living back home in Europe about them rather than speaking lowly of them.

In Seoul did she stayed the longest until her death from pneumonia at the young age of 46.

In her posthumous work, Finding Me, did she reveal her real identity, dedicating it to her parents whom she apologized and expressed her love for them despite everything that occurred between them. She talked about the last years of her life in Seoul, how locals were so nice and inviting to her, and how she adopted kids instead of having her own through the years.

“It’s not because I never found love in men. It’s more like I found love in doing things I’m passionate about. Traveling, learning new cultures, it outweighed the human need of romance.”

Due to her thrill in taking risks and embarking on wondrous adventures, it brought inspiration to a lot of young girls pressured to marry at that time to pursue what they really want.

 A remarkable background you had, Jeno contemplated. How come no one discussed her in his classes?

You kept brushing the bangs of your hair back as it fell repeatedly. But you got irritated instantly because it sabotaged your drive, you brought out a hairpin from her desk and attached it on both sides. But when you shifted your angle of focus, the corner of your eye locked with Jeno’s attentive gaze.

He didn’t flinch, even he should’ve. He wasn’t one to linger his look on anyone’s physical appearances, but your story and the passion on your face as you sketched mesmerized him. He was charmed, to say the least.

“Uhm, hello there?” You broke the silence due to your uneasiness about it. What’s his deal?

Jeno bowed, reintroducing himself to you. As soon as his presence settled in the room when Cleopatra attempted to hit on him, you could’ve cared less. Though this man was a first for you, a first in a long time as all guards would feel intimidated by you during the first night. Even your sharp tongue didn’t faze him. “Staring is rude, sir. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“She did,” He wandered through the exterior of your section, by the fence that separated you and him. Not breaking eye contact, his eyes turned into moon crescents as he smirked with trouble. “Though she also told me to appreciate the art too.”

Snorts noisily exhaled from Cleopatra, who took the center section of the exhibit, succeeded by Princess Diana’s whispered gasps and Katherine’s side-eyeing Anne beside her while she taught her math. That was an odd way a guard conversed with you, but Jeno was merely doing what the rules stated. Partly, he was impressed with his cheesy pick-up line, partly embarrassed because he’s never spoken like this to anyone.

Rule #17: Act playfully around (Y/N) (Y/L/N) to break the tension; she’s a harsh one.

There was irony between the information he read about your life versus the wax model. Even when you faced sexism and ran away according to your history, never were you impolite to anyone in your life. You couldn’t even kill a lurking fly when it roams around your food! It showed Jeno a possibility that as much as you’re just a wax version of someone famous in the past, maybe the external environment around you had a heavy influence too.

“You fool!” His confidence exasperated you, urging you to persistently throw balls of paper with your failed sketches at him. No one dared to talk to you like that, most especially a night guard. “Take that for your comment!”

If you thought he’d scram away and act repentant, you were proven wrong. His reflexes were parallel to a spider, capturing every single paper ball without fail. Up and down his body went, one arm held on to them and no more were left on your part. Never a single defeat during the first meeting in years, but that seemed to alter now.

“Give up already, Ms. (Y/L/N)?” Jeno remarked vibrantly as he discarded your mess in the trash bin behind him. If he managed to get everyone to like him tonight, he wanted to make sure to have you onboard too.

Whatever agenda he had, you weren’t up for it. You’d treat him the same way you usually treated Sanghoon for the past 20 something years: cold and ignorant. From your stool, you left your comfortable position to come face to face with this man. He better be grateful for that barrier in between you, or else you would’ve caused mayhem.

“Never in your wildest dreams, Mr. Lee.” Your mouth gave a half-smile, clenching on the bars to liberate your annoyance. Before you could fend back, that’s when Princess Diana intervened between your heated dialogue.

“Oh heavens, children!” She stood by the barrier, mostly to protect the newbie Jeno with her body. “(Y/N), he just wanted to know you. Must you be so cross?”

This Princess Diana embodied all the traits the real one had: soft-spoken, intelligent, and protective. She’s gotten so used to your gradual temper, staying on standby whenever anyone tried to mess with you. Even if it was harmless, you could get so mean!

“Diana, he was mocking me! Saying such a sleazy phrase as if to amuse me, ha! Not a chance, I hate people like that.”

“Not us women though; you just despise men in general.”

“And you’re absolutely right!” With a smug smile, you greedily rejoiced. “Anyways, escort this disgrace out. I’m not in the mood to get angry when I have a lot of inspiration on mind right now.”

While you resumed your sketching to let go of that extra steam, Jeno was left with Diana who apologized on your behalf. Your pride was too high to do that, and as the motherly figure among them, she always took care of things in your exhibit.

“I’m so sorry for that, Jeno. She’s not really like this, but I know how much you tried your best. It was quite a fresh spectacle honestly.”

Whatever was responsible for your abrasiveness, Jeno yearned to know. He couldn’t understand who you were yet even knowing your life story. All he wanted was to get along with everyone. It was the key to successfully maintain his job for the next 6 months.

“How can I make her come around then?”

A demanding question that no one had a solid answer to. Diana recalled how much Sanghoon didn’t let your dislike for him get to him, maintaining a respectful boundary in between each other after his past attempts. Though with Jeno, observing how he riled you up and your focus entirely on him, she hasn’t seen anything like it since the 80s.

There was something in Jeno that may just get you to warm up and return to your kind nature.

“Aside from acting playful, as Sanghoon recommended, I can think of two ways, love.” By the doors of her exhibit, where Jeno was already waltzing the corridor to visit other rooms, she suggested smartly. “One, argue back to her opinions. She hates whenever anyone tries to get her way, but boy, you’re just as wise as her. No one was brave enough to peeve on her until you came.”

“How about the second way?”

“Do your research, love. Aside from libraries, you have those small technology devices that allow you to search up anything.” She tousled Jeno’s brown locks as if it were her actual son’s. Some habits just don’t die when you do.

“Brush up on your history, Jeno. Not only will it help you with (Y/N), but it’ll serve purposefully with the other art pieces here.”

Boy, he was ready to crash in his bed for a few hours after all those interactions. His introverted nature required to be revitalized.

Towards the last hours of his shift, the art pieces who’ve strolled in the first floor lessened his plate by not leaving any major clutter behind. As if she listened to him, Athena didn’t break any lightbulbs too.

His main highlight would be meeting the men of the historical male section, who flaunted a more humorous ambiance. Freddie Mercury from Queen insisted he drink a glass of his wine and to bring more wine next time, which he denied since it would against Sanghoon’s rules. King Sejong the Great and Martin Luther King Jr. argued back and forth over the most random things (pineapple on pizza specifically), while Steve Jobs mediated whenever one crossed the line. Meanwhile, William Shakespeare was too preoccupied in his writing and speaking to himself about his books, wondering how to improve them.

During one of his breaks today, he multitasked drawing a new plate with his research on every art piece to know them better. He started with the exhibit of sculptures of the Greek gods and goddesses, which were Zeus, Hera, Hades, Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Artemis, Dionysus, and Circe. They weren’t the complete roster because the rest were in other museums across the globe, as said by Athena before sunrise. The majority of them he knew what they were in charge of, but the rest were foggy to his knowledge. Typing away and jotting notes down, he started downloading his favorite jazz songs too.

Rule # 4: Play jazz music to the paintings on the first floor so they can relax and dance within their frames.

Circe is a minor goddess, the daughter of the sun god Helios. She’s recognized for her versatility in incantations and herbs, capable of transforming people into animals. From Jeno’s perspective, she’s mostly within her space with her journals and magic wand, trying new spells or combinations of herbs. For the latter, he had to keep a closer eye on.

Rule #9: Don’t let Circe, god of potions, into the Oriental Room to get plants and herbs.

He discovered that Dionysus is the god of wine, happiness, and theatre. That’s why every god in the exhibit had full wine glasses during their gathering. It also added up why Freddie Mercury always comes to him when his bottles run empty, though he mustn’t go overboard.

Rule #18: Make sure Freddie Mercury doesn’t get too drunk from the wine of Dionysus; he might make numerous scenes if he does.

After his lone studying session, he took a short trip to the pet and convenience stores to buy food. He got a dumbfounded look from Jaemin back in the dorm room, who was studying for one of his quizzes in Biology in a couple of hours.

“Woah what’s with this stash? Is it for yourself or something?”

“The museum surprisingly has a lot of tasks needed to be done at night. And no, not from my wallet but the allowance they gave me before you get a heart attack.” Jeno plopped on his solo bed, covering his face with a pillow.

“Thank God.” A relaxed sigh escaped Jaemin’s lips, taking back his balled-up fists meant for his roommate. “I think I would’ve stormed that boring museum if they made your broke ass spend a cent.”

“Boring?” Jeno removed the cushion hastily, eyeing his busy and coffee-high roommate. The scent of black coffee from his mug spread in the room, assuming that this upcoming test was testing his roommate’s patience again.

Not even trying to look at Jeno while reviewing his handwritten notes, Jaemin continued giving his opinion. “Museum culture is dead, Jeno. Not everyone has the time to roam around one, plus people can always look up the artifacts online these days.”

People were entitled to their own opinions on numerous things, though Jeno begged to differ with his roommate’s. Especially after witnessing the magic of the night shift, you shouldn’t merely judge a book by its cover. In this case, you shouldn’t judge an artwork or art piece merely on its history and legacy.

Maybe because his roommate was in the science department, he thought this way. A lot of art students regularly visit the museum both for fun and for their classes, and Jeno was one of them. Though he was too sleepy to explain his side, he let it slide for now and snoozed throughout the late afternoon.

An hour before the start of his shift, Jeno promenaded the emptying museum to inspect anything else he might’ve missed out on from last night. There were two areas according to his rotation, both in the first floor.

One was the Diorama Room. Divided into 4 sections, highlighting some of the well-known ancient civilizations in world history. Ancient Egypt and Ancient China to your left, Ancient Rome and Ancient Maya to your right. They acted as if they were the actual people during those times, giving Jeno a laugh when they cracked jokes in between. Such tiny figures, yet the rule for them said otherwise.

Rule # 7: The small figurines in the Diorama Room are feisty, so make sure they don’t fight with one another again.

The remaining room left was the Theater Room. He’s never been here, though his art friends have for film festivals held by the university.

The interior of it was set to look like an actual cinema place you’d see in a mall. There was a mini lobby with a few posters of iconic films over the years. Singin’ in the Rain, Back to the Future, Titanic, those were some framed and hung on the wall. There were two other doors there: one leading to the chairs and the other where the movie projector was. The latter room was pretty riveting, wherein you can choose to watch old short films through an 88mm film projector or switch to a cd player for the newer releases.

Back to those posters, they weren’t an exception to the magic and a simple rule was left for Jeno to do.

Rule # 10: Chatter with the movie posters in the lobby of the Theater Room; they love meeting new faces.

Since there wasn’t anyone checking out the Art Rooms on the second floor, he closed them. Though as he was about to lock the Oriental Room, the ravishing plants around the royal plant appealed his interest. Said to hold magical properties from his research, Jeno was reminded of another rule to keep in mind for later.

Rule # 3: The fake flowers in the Oriental Room come to life too at night, so when no one is lurking, water it diligently.

Instead of lounging at Sanghoon’s office first, he brought his important items to the front desk of the lobby and continued sketching his plate. He wanted to watch the art come back alive with his two eyes. Usually, he’d have coffee when he does his work, but due to another crucial rule in the guide, he’d rather not take the risk.

Rule # 6: The lobby room can get rowdy, so keep any drinks away from important items.

On the dot, the cries and yawns from the art pieces around him reverberated. Closing his sketchpad, his night guard mode was on. Connecting his laptop on the aux cord of the museum speakers, he tapped play on his playlist of jazz music that’ll last for the entire shift duration. As the first notes flooded the entire vicinity, sounds of joy left the lips of each painting. Some were humming, dancing, and even singing along.

“You can never go wrong with Frank Sinatra!”

“This Jeno lad really did the heavens’ work quick!”

Having the sense of accomplishment on his sleeve, the small barks of his fluffy pal reached closer to him. As he kneeled to find him, he was only taken by surprise as Mochi excitedly jumped on him. Tumbling over, Jeno chuckled innocently as Mochi licked his face numerously. This puppy was friendly, easily liking everyone at first sight. He wasn’t as choosy like Daegal, the puppy of his friend Chenle studying Business Management.

Once he composed himself and cradling the dog like his own, he fed him a dog treat from the desk.

“Good boy, Mochi!” He rubbed his fur while the puppy happily munched on it, ready to fulfill more of his duties.

He skipped the Greek mythology exhibit since Athena was doing a good job not letting anyone go overboard with their powers, though he’ll check in again in a few hours. He met the posters of the theater room, who were celebrities he grew up watching on tv. Sanghoon was right; they were the kinder group in the entire museum because they were more laidback.

On to the second floor, all the female wax figures lounged by the male section due to another lecture from Shakespeare. Although the guide informed him that most of the time it could get boring, this lecture was more stimulating. On his platform, he elaborated with conviction the lines of one of his famous books, Romeo and Juliet. A must-read book back in his high school days, there’s no way Jeno could’ve missed that out.

From the looks of it, Jeno perceived that Shakespeare was performing spoken word poetry due to him reading only Romeo’s lines while Cleopatra read Juliet’s beside him. This kind of show was one of the sources of entertainment to these figures, so Jeno leaned by the side of the door to listen. After all, the famous author of it was a few feet away. Cleopatra channeled such a naïve character to her ability, absentmindedly saying as she clutched her chest.

“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”

“'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose-”

The flow of an engaged Cleopatra was abrupted by the loud yell from Shakespeare in front, specifically to an amused Jeno. “Jeno, my boy! Welcome back!”

Such an announcement diverted everyone’s attention to the back, some running to Jeno to give their respective greetings. It’s rare for everyone to feel at ease with a new guard, taking them weeks to approach them due to the intimidation. Though Jeno’s bright presence felt welcoming, so they accepted it. Perhaps it’s because of his youth, it reminded them of theirs too.

Shakespeare highly requested (or forced) Jeno to take his part as Romeo, intrigued to watch someone younger read his lines. Since most of the male wax figures were aged, it never satisfied Shakespeare so he jumped on this opportunity as quickly as he could. With the roaring cheers from the other figures, Jeno might as well give it a try. It wasn’t like his friends were here to clown him like they usually would if he did something humiliating.

Jeno shockingly liked this activity as he wasn’t much of a performer on stage, but someone who does the behind-the-scenes of it. He realized as he read the lines from the book Shakespeare asked him to follow along with why people held university-wide spoken word shows a few times per semester. He was no actor, but it’s delightful to have tried it at least once in his life.

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” As if the edge of the platform was the balcony of Juliet (or Cleopatra rather), he knelt as he ardently spoke his lines. He’s emphasizing this rush of uncontrollable desire for her, rambling whatever he would do to get the girl.

“What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?” Cleopatra questioned from her chair, inching closer to the young boy. Even outside character will she attempt to charm Jeno, but Jeno was quick to catch it and kept his distance.

“The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.”

“I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, and yet I would it were to give again.”

“Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?”

“But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

Everyone was condensed by their top-notch acting, as if this was the actual play unfolding before them. Jeno wasn’t so sure how he got himself in character without preparation, yet he felt what his character felt. He comprehended the material a lot better now than when he was still in high school.

However, there was always that one killjoy to ruin the heartfelt mood.

“How dumb is it to say that you’re in love after the first glance?” You opposed, putting the spotlight on you. This book was said to be a classic in literature, but as you matured physically and mentally, you could no longer agree with it. “Isn’t love the same thing that killed Romeo and Juliet in the end?”

Remembering what Princess Diana told him, he wasn’t going to let this pass. He wanted to give a piece of his mind too, caring less if the show must be paused. “Love is an emotion we don’t ask to feel. It’ll come to us when we least expect it, even when the timing of it can be crucial.”

“Of all the people Juliet could’ve gone for, it just had to be the enemy.” In all the years you’ve been brought to life, no one dared to test your opinions because they were aware of your intelligence, from the streets to the books. When someone bark, you’d bite back. Hard. “With all due respect, I love your works, Shakespeare. Yet the fate you’ve given these two at a young age was grave, could’ve you given them a better outcome or another character to love instead?”

“Giving them extra characters to love won’t address the horrific life fact that love can be dangerous. Regardless of what status you’re in, you can’t stop the attraction towards someone. The heart wants what it wants.” Jeno pressed his hand to his chest, pumping it a bit. Unknown to you and him, the audience found more entertainment in your argument. Anne, who was munching on the popcorn Jeno gave her earlier, passed the snack to Katherine who just couldn’t stop watching.

If this man wanted a challenge, you’re all ears. Who was he to compete with you? Was he not intelligent to know who you are?

“So are you insinuating that we just go with the flow? Be a slave to our emotions too and let them dictate our next motives?”

“Slave is such a strong word to use, (Y/N). But it’s not like we can’t choose who want to love because we actually can. In this case, Romeo chose Juliet and vice versa.”

“But what happens if the person you choose doesn’t choose you in return?”

“At least you tried your best, right? It’ll hurt like hell though, but it won’t last forever.” From his kneeling position, Jeno strutted his way with confidence. Trying not to let it mess with you, your extreme stare at him as if they’ll shoot lasers. Inches away from you, Jeno declared. “Love always has risks, that’s a given. Romeo and Juliet still tried and followed their hearts despite the downfall. But it was a needed downfall to get the message across.”

“No one would be that foolish to risk their lives for love though, right? Life is so precious, why would they do such a thing?”

“Even if they knew what their lives were without each other, they still preferred living a life where they were both in the picture. Therefore, they tried all they could that time because the regret of not doing anything at all carries a heavier burden.”

Whenever anyone argued with you, their debating points they spat back would further piss you off because most of the time, it never made sense. Back when this rude man told you to go home and be a wife in your earlier years of exploring, you civilly told him to fuck off, kicking his balls because he cornered you in an alley. For the first time, a man who tried to challenge you actually made sense. Was it because he lived in a modern time, where minds were more open? Because of the amount of sexism you faced in the past, you’ve turned a blind eye to the current period.

But your high pride maintained, not submitting into anything he said. “I still think it’s stupid to risk your life for love. There’s no such thing as having only one true love anyways, and you have to be alive to see it.”

“Fair point, but again, the feeling of regret and carrying it your entire life doesn’t fade easily. It’ll make you reflect on the what-ifs, and it’s heart-wrenching.” Jeno digressed, walking around you in circles. He’s intentionally trying to drive you mad, but he could care less. He wanted someone to put you in your place and open your mindset. “The question stands: would you rather try and go for it even knowing its risks or regret not even trying for the rest of your existence? Quite ironic for me to ask you that, don’t you think?”

Past the information board, Jeno researched more of your life history online. Your whole life was grounded on risks, from breaking the standards of your society, leaving your family and home country, to fending yourself from disrespectful men. Rather than living the original life expected from you, you chose not to because it didn’t make you happy. Such a risktaker he knew you are, but with the topic of love, he wondered why you were on a fence with it. Though some records stated you’ve had rendezvouses with a few men in your journeys, love was never in the equation. The single life was what you chose and you were more than satisfied, plus your adopted kids filled that supposed void anyways.

This man may have studied your history, but so much he still doesn’t know. Information that never made the books because you chose not to write or tell anyone about it. Aside from the discomfort growing in your chest, everyone else felt the awkward tension when you were lost for words.

Never been defeated in an argument, until tonight. Your mind lost its drive and willpower.

“Touché, Lee Jeno.” Indeed, his name you’re acquainted with. Numerously passed around in your exhibit, mostly from the lips of Cleopatra, who’d fantasize all the graphic things she would do to him. Too much information, least of your interest. “Please excuse me. I’d like to work on my sketches to ease my mind.”

As you quietly exited the room, an all too familiar sculpture leaned against the railings overseeing one side of the museum. Just like you, she hated accepting defeat or compromises. She always rooted for you to win. With a faint chuckle, “Facing a loss for the first time, I see.”

“Don’t even lecture me about it, Athena. I’m still fired up, and I need to relax.”

“Jeno is a different breed, isn’t he?” She stuck to your side, strolling wherever your feet led you.

“Different as in he’s a man? Yes. What else is there to it?”

“Men these days aren’t as trashy as those back in the day though. Shouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“Last time I did, it destroyed my heart. I’m not allowing myself to let men in even as a friend, Athena.”

She knew exactly what you were referring to, not touching on it further. No way will you let heartbreak or disappointment from men bother you. Even Sanghoon’s sweet company took a while to tolerate. You really needed to sketch this out on your pad right now, excusing yourself from Athena’s presence. Isolation wasn’t new to you; it’s what’s protecting your entire being. Immortal as you are, you had to recover from the past pain so the next decades won’t feel as brash.

You hoped to return to your old self when you were a fresh new figure in the 70s. So naïve, only proud of your accomplishments, and purely happy.

While Jeno continued to finish his scene in respect to Shakespeare, he received a standing ovation for his mini-show. Cleopatra didn’t expect such talent from him, growing fonder of the younger male. Whether she seduces him or not, he was never afraid to try new things and she liked that about him.

“Bravo, love!” Princess Diana praised, clapping at him.

Although Jeno appreciated all this positive attention, his thoughts bounced back to your and your stance on love. The debate earlier was just out of being playful, interested to hear your opinions. Though, he’s worried that he might’ve offended you. It may have been time to finally witness something like that, but then again, he was sure he touched something personal to you. No matter how you tried to fight it off, your eyes can’t lie. Staring down at him, there was pain beneath it. Your eyebrows scrunched to the center, thinking deeply yet remained utterly speechless.

A win he didn’t feel good about.

“It’s time she encountered something new in the years she’s been here. Give her some space tonight, then try again to reach out to her. Kindly this time; I’m not in the mood for another brawl that could end up like the Greek gods’ past fights downstairs.”

These clever words shared by Katherine loitered his mind for the rest of the night, eventually going back to finishing his current plate since everyone was behaving well. As great it is to get the approval of the majority, he tried brainstorming ways to make you like him too.

He understood the whole “men are trash” concept in today’s modern society, but if he could prove it wrong to at least one person, it would be you. Whatever is holding you back, he only hoped that you’d let it go. Questionably unsure as to why he was so persevering, he concluded that it was so he could perform his job better as the night guard. Set higher standards than Sanghoon even.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Weeks passed, and his attempts continued to be unsuccessful.

The capability for you to ignore his efforts remained strong, whether he was pestering you over small things or debating with you again about anything. Life, books, morals, the two of you always head butt each other. Anything good he did, you searched for a flaw in it. Whatever acts he’s tried and continued trying, not one flinch from you ever.

Even if that’s his state with you, his job no longer felt stressful nor strenuous. He’d try to sleep more on days he was off-duty. Although the fatigue of staying beyond his usual sleeping time was inevitable, he compromised to take a nap lasting an hour or two when the art pieces weren’t acting frisky.

Plus, there have been multiple times they adapted to any alterations so his physical well-being wouldn’t fall sick. Per order of Princess Diana and Hera, who by instinct became his motherly figures here, only wanting what’s best for the kids.

He became accustomed to everything that went on at night, discovering things on his own without Sanghoon’s guide. Anne talked about how much she missed biking in her neighborhood, so one night, Jeno snuck his bike inside and let her use it around the first floor. With proper monitoring so none of the paintings would be unbothered or pieces wouldn’t tumble.

Hermes the messenger god was fluent in every language possible, so every so often, Jeno would freely speak to him in Korean because sometimes he felt he could explode by the amount of English he used every night. Bilingual things, you know. He knew you were multilingual too, but for obvious reasons, he couldn’t converse with you.

Because Jeno was heavily favored, that should’ve been enough to push through his night shifts before the end of the semester. In addition to that, the hourly rate was above the average of whatever Jaemin or Renjun was earning. For the past 2 months, Jeno paid upfront first, even paying back all his debts. It almost made Renjun want to switch jobs with him.

“Trust me, Renjun. You don’t want it, being the lowkey scaredy cat you are.”

Work no longer felt like work, and that’s what everyone aspired to feel. Nevertheless, he tended to worry over you mid-shift, glancing at you from his side view. Sketching, reading, and writing were your default actions. No matter how many times he said to himself not to let your dislike for him affect him, it’d always backfire.

Why were you so cold?

What made you lose your fire from all the research he did about your lively personality?

When morning arrived and he gathered his stuff, you’d be the last thing he’ll check on. Frozen in your standing pose, smiling as you held a book and a pencil, he detected how fake it was. Bystanders would only assume your happiness was from your achievements, though Jeno’s gut firmly pried that something grand overpowered that happiness. And definitely, not in a good way.

Out of all the art pieces, he investigated on you the most. Skimming through every material in the library, endless searching on the net, even asking professors from the History department thanks to Renjun, he did whatever he could. People may already think he was obsessed with who you are, but only little did they know.

Another plate was done and submitted, and he promised himself to look you up one last time before surrendering. For someone who’s rarely given up on a challenge, this one was really out of his control. Maybe he should follow Sanghoon’s footsteps now.

You lived centuries before him, and there’s limited material of you left. Rather than learning of your adventures again, he dug through what things you liked over your life. Maybe by giving one of them, it’ll lessen the tension from a 100 to 99. Maybe you preferred gifts over words, he’ll never know until he tried.

Boom.

According to one of your journal entries, there’s a fond liking you’ve acquired for lavender roses from Benjamin and Liam when they visited you in Paris in secret because of how much you missed them. It went both ways, praying your family ties could be recovered.

It’s a good thing he needed to refill his stock of items for the art pieces so he could pass by the flower store a few blocks away from his dorm. That night, without further words, he graciously offered you a fresh lavender rose in between your new sketching session.

“I may not know exactly why you’re spiritless around me, but with this rose, I hope we could work something out.”

Your frigid face of disdain, keeping your chin high and squinting your eyes with judgment, began to crumble down.  Of all things as a peace offering, he gave you that? Then again, it’s not like he knew that an item you liked so much became something you’ve grown to hate and why so. No history books could teach him that.

Vulnerability was a normal thing, yet feared by many. Once one uncovered your weak spot, they could harm you. You still couldn’t trust Jeno fully, not willing to show your helplessness nor were you ever going to tell him. Hidden from his knowledge, everyone else including Sanghoon were familiarized as to why this kind of flower tormented you.

You sprinted like thunder out the exhibit room to wherever it’s private to control your senses. You may not have a physical heart, but your emotions were just as actual as a human’s. You needed to regulate your panting breath. In the past decades, you’ve not shed a singular tear but the cycle broke when they streamed out your miserable eyes like a flowing river. Quiet sobs, an empty corner near the fire exit was where your wobbly legs faltered, the painful memories of the past replayed in your head. Once beautiful, but now an agonizing reminder of what could’ve been.

Katherine, Cleopatra, and Anne were swift on their feet to hunt you down, anxious of what you may do next. Seeing or the mention of these flowers still affected you despairingly. Sanghoon must’ve forgotten to write them down, or perhaps he didn’t know either about this fact during all the years he’s worked there.

It’s one of the biggest secrets of his museum. By the clueless face Jeno had with his eyebrows raised, mouth, and small eyes slightly open, he repeatedly asked what he did wrong and adding that he never meant to harm you. Indeed, they knew that yet what occurred involved a secret in the list of museum secrets. Confidential only between art pieces according to Athena, none of the male wax figures spoke a word, only pitying the boy.

“I wasn’t here yet that time, but they said that it was once beautiful, but now it’s a rough period.” With hesitation, Princess Diana chose to reveal it to rid Jeno’s misery. She didn’t mind having to argue about it with Athena later on, as this may further affect the two of you later on.

“A long time ago in the early ‘80s, there was a night guard around your age named Junmyeon. Also, a college student, trying to make ends meet. He did it for 3 years until he graduated. Though within his stay, not only was he such a delight to everyone, he broke a golden rule in the guide. I believe you do know the guide much more now, Jeno?”

“Yes, I do, Princess Diana. Memorized it even, but which one specifically?” Jeno’s desperate eyes pleaded, only hoping for the best and to fix what he messed up.

“You can form friendships with the art pieces, but nothing more.” Princess Diana replied bitterly. “Junmyeon was an aspiring painter, a different path from his business-oriented family. He was seen as the black sheep. She resonated with him, sharing the burden and lifting it by doing whatever fun they could in the museum. In time, they both fell in love with each other; they were each other’s first loves.”

“Why must something beautiful like love be broken? It’s not like you can control it. That golden rule makes no sense.”

“It does, unfortunately. Wax figures like me cannot age, while humans like you can. None of them could accept the reality, always pushing it away. Until Junmyeon’s last week in university, he broke it off with her unexpectedly. From there, (Y/N) was heartbroken for decades. With heartbreak, giving the cold shoulder and bitterness followed. Then with the lavender rose you gave that she used to love became a flower that she associated with Junmyeon too because he gave her one almost every night for those past 3 years.”

Things finally added up, and the guilt in Jeno’s gut expanded. His major lightbulb moment was a major failure.

“Has Junmyeon ever returned to try and win her back?”

“Well, there was one time he did come back for an art exhibition for his paintings in the 2000s. I was already here, then he had a woman around his shoulder with an adolescent boy holding his hand. He roamed around our exhibit and kept gawking at (Y/N). We may be asleep, but we remember the conversations exchanged in the room. So, his son then asked him if he knew who she was.”

“What did he respond?” Jeno attentively listened, on the edge of such a hurtful tale.

“He knew her name, praising her for historical achievements. However, nothing as a former friend or lover. From what I predict, he ingested one of Circe’s potions.”

“But I thought Circe isn’t allowed to make potions for actual consumption. She’s not even allowed to enter the Oriental Art Room.” Jeno pointed out, overwhelmed at the puzzling past. Princess Diana was mindful that she had to stop spreading too much information, so she had to end her discussion with the lost boy.

“There are a lot of secrets about this museum, Jeno. Unfortunately, I cannot reveal to you to protect our peace.”

With due respect, Jeno quit his follow-up questions and concerns. The only thing he wished to do was mend his relationship with you. As vague as to where you even stood in the first place, he unintentionally crossed a line due to his selfish intention to befriend you.

“What can I do now, Princess Diana? You know I’d never push her buttons like that, even if I’m a whimsical person.”

“Oh, my boy.” Princess Diana soothed, holding both her hand on his sweaty palm and cupping his cheek. “For the meantime, give her space. No taunting for a while, and just observe her from a distance. Though do not fret the slightest; I’m sure she’ll be okay again.”

During that interval, you were hunched on the wall, bawling and weeping like the wound was brand new again. While Katherine and Anne stood by your side, on the lookout for anyone who’d be spying on you, Cleopatra knelt in front of you as your infinite tears gushed down.

“My dear,” She tried to wipe some of them while holding your hand. “It’s been years, and Jeno didn’t know a single thing. He didn’t mean to do it.”

“I don’t care, Cleopatra! He should’ve stopped trying to socialize with me because I won’t ever live down my experience with Junmyeon.”

“As if crying like this will bring Junmyeon back to your life,” Cleopatra exclaimed, holding in her temper. Acquainted with heartbreak, it’s awful that it changed you entirely, but you should’ve found a way to heal. Throughout your attitude change, it’s mostly you in pain, not those you inflict it to. “My dear, I love you a lot. But this Jeno boy is different, and you know it.”

“He’s still a nightguard, for Christ’s sake, Cleopatra.”

“You shouldn’t generalize that all night guards are bad just because of one encounter that occurred at the wrong time.” Brushing some strands stuck by your wet visage, she professed to you bluntly. “You’re never going to know how good Jeno is unless you slowly open up again, (Y/N). Not forcing you the slightest, but healing started once you’ve acknowledged the past and move on from it.”

“But I’m scared, Cleopatra.” You restlessly admitted, hunching even more against the wall. Your poor, metaphorical heart could only take so much. You barely expressed sorrow towards others as you always held a strong exterior, only letting it out alone. Not holding back anymore, Cleopatra brought you in for a hug. The last time she did that was the first night after Junmyeon left, calming your intensified emotions so you wouldn’t do anything dumb that night. No violence, just pure sorrow.

“My dear, it’s alright.” She whispered while stroking your back upwards. “But you’re a risktaker; that’s how people remember you. Now, you must challenge yourself to move on from things that didn’t work out. Because once you do, it’ll put your heart and mind at ease.”

“Do you think I’ll be okay again?”

“Yes, you will be, my dear. You are not alone, and never will be.”

Acting like the dutiful son he always was, Jeno distanced from you.

He still cracked jokes, chatted with the art pieces, and followed the rules, yet never did he utter anything to you. You’ve proudly anticipated it since day one, not wanting him up in your business or teasing you ever. But this time, it felt odd.

On nights he didn’t report, you’ve unconsciously wondered what he may have been up to. A job like this at his age was just as Sanghoon once said: nothing in the regular.

Was he with his friends?

Was he resting well?

From the moment you chose to let go of your limitations and old thoughts, it included your grudge against past guards. Asking for forgiveness to Sanghoon when he returns was on the top of your list, however, that’ll take a while to happen. In the start, you’re baffled as to why he no longer picked on you like every night he’s been present. Somehow, it became a habit you’ve gotten used to, having so many comebacks planned to fend yourself. But you didn’t want to concede to it, maintaining what was left of your pride since that breakdown.

While on the subject, you suspected if anyone told him anything that night because that also indicated the last time he reached out to you. By anything, it would be your unwritten past with Junmyeon. A part of yourself in the museum that you didn’t want to disperse like rapid-fire again. It would be the last thing you wanted Jeno to know.

To your misfortune, Princess Diana came clean due to your growing concern over it. Although your attitude changed and people got used to it, you could only blame yourself that you were responsible for Jeno’s change.

“All he wanted was to understand and enlighten us with his likable presence. Then with you, you were his challenge because of your high walls. Out of everyone, he tried to learn everything about you. From my observation, whenever he has a goal, he’s determined to achieve it.”

“But I’m trying to be better now, Diana. Why did he stop?”

“He may have determination, but he knows where the boundaries lie.” Princess Diana patted the side of your arm, giving you a half-grin. “It hurt him when he hurt you, even if it was accidental. So he opted to give you space; that way, you could catch a breather and he wouldn’t harm you anymore. It was what you wanted from the start anyways, right?”

A hard pill to swallow, though it was a fact. It’s just that now, you’re slowly willing to release yourself from the dark. It’s been decades, and more to come. Nothing can move on unless you do.

“Where is he, Princess Diana?”

Just as she predicted right on the edge, Diana completed the grin on her face and led you to the entrance of your exhibit. She may be younger than you, but you’re reverted in your twenties while she remained in her mid-thirties. Gaping the wide museum from the railing, starting from the painting exhibit in the lobby to across the other side of the museum, Diana spotted the black hair of the boy in the Foreign Art Room.

“Over there.”

Observing where her eyes focused, you caught a glimpse of a recognizable side profile. The owner’s eyes were completely taken by whatever he was drawing on the fold-up desk he brought out from the storage room. By the tedious action of his right hand going up and down, you’ve gotten so used to his part-time identity as the night guard to entirely dismiss his current status as a university student.

Architecture specifically as he first introduced himself to you. The same path your oldest brother, Christopher, worked in. The look of tenacity Jeno presented as his eyebrows continuously scrunched, his crescent orbs hastily spied his work for any unnecessary details and his veiny hands brushed his already messy hair, you were profoundly reminded of Christopher when he was designing his possible future house. You were 8 years old, and he was 22, who just got married. He explained how many floors it’ll have, what rooms to put and what extra furniture he’ll place to make it feel more at home.

Seeing how exceptional his art skills were, you started to sketch like him. With flowers first, it turned into bedrooms and sceneries of your neighborhood. You felt your shoulders rise in accomplishment when you were able to accurately draw people. As much as you credited Benjamin and Liam the most in your works, it’ll only be within yourself to know that you also held a soft spot for Christopher.

Excusing yourself to Princess Diana, you bravely yet quietly ventured into the Foreign Art Room. Hiding first from one of the cement columns, you resumed watching him sketch. Instead of a pencil, he used a black pen with a tip as thin as a pencil. Your assumptions would be it was for a class, basing it on him informing everybody earlier that he’ll be inactive for the remaining hours of his shift to focus on his midterm requirements. That must be difficult to balance, yet he still does everything expected from him. Maybe the second cup of iced coffee beside him stimulated his bones and mind, letting his imagination free.

Through the limited space, you tiptoed whilst holding the side of the column to make up his work. There were 2 and a half rectangular shapes stacked on top of each other, the third one he was still tracing. A sign encrypted with tiny written words you couldn’t decipher, the beauty and modernity of Jeno’s plate cannot go unappreciated.

“That’s absolutely beautiful.”

Sweet words you didn’t think would bounce back in the room, Jeno’s pace ceased whilst you hid again. Art pieces capable of walking weren’t allowed here, he locked the door even beforehand! Or he thought as he was rushing to get his work done because one of his terror professors moved up the deadline to tomorrow morning. Not even 25% finished, he petitioned for everyone’s cooperation just for tonight.

He used up his 2 days of not having the night shift for other projects, and not wanting to ruin his perfect attendance, he proceeded to show up.

The voices from the foreign paintings around him hushed for him out of respect. So possibly someone snuck in, his head looking around for intruders. But only did he quit it when he saw your blurry reflection leaning against the column. The glass windows slightly mirror back what it sees, without you knowing that.

Not to mention, the small bit of your lilac dress was left out. Of all people, it was you?

“Do my eyes deceive me or is Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) inside when she’s not allowed so?”

To break the killing tension, he tested the waves with an innocent taunt. Never did you reach out to him, so least to say he was entertained whilst keeping his distance.

Fixing your proud stance, you responded in a low baritone voice you used to persuade numerous men in her adventures. “Uhm no, I don’t know who she is.”

As intelligent as you were, Jeno was a few steps farther than you this time. Educated about the risky ways you’d get around and one of them was changing the pitch of your voice, he heartily laughed at your unsuccessful attempt.

“Okay don’t lie, (Y/N). I can see a trail of your dress and your cloak. Oh, your reflection too.”

Damn, you peeked a little to realize that he was correct. Hauling your dress back in to readjust your outfit, you pushed your hair back before appearing to him. Though when you did such, you didn’t suppose that he was practically beside you the entire time. Bumping into his towering stance of 5’10 while the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, your proud posture loosened up. He even discarded his blazer. A few more inches, he could’ve cornered you on the column if you didn’t take another step back.

Has he always been this tall or were you so used to your boots having high heels under? Oh wait, maybe because you wore flats this time because it’s making your toes sore. Your head bowed from struggling to maintain eye contact with him, your palms caressing your cheeks that suddenly heated up. Clearing your throat, you straightened your back again like nothing happened.

Jeno thought otherwise, shrugging his shoulders as he chuckled. He’s never seen you get shy, not that it was a bad thing either. The temptation to play around it more was there, but he was running out of time for his assignment.

“Come in. I’ll let you off the hook this time.” His arms opened up, allowing you access to such a wonderful exhibit. Paintings from different European periods, miniature versions of famous infrastructures inside glass containers, and replicas of Greek columns in the front entrance, no wonder it’s important to protect them all.

“Are you sure?” Watching him return to his spot, which was a bench in the center of the exhibit with a table in front, it didn’t process that you were gawking at his toned back. His broad shoulders and the evident muscles in his arms while he stretched, your eyes were speedy to look away when he tried to take a glance at you.

“I don’t think the paintings here and I mind.” Sitting down again, he tapped the vacant space beside him. “Feel free to watch me draw if you want to.”

Settling by his side, he recommenced where he left off. Now with a closer view of his piece, it did look like a building as you thought. He was sketching the remaining outline of the 3rd floor of this hypothetical place, continuously checking his ruler to monitor if the lines were consistent. Able to pick up on the words of the sign beside the building, you wowed with one hand on your lips.

“You’re redrawing Seoul National University Museum of Art?”

“One of my plate assignments was to visualize a renovation of a certain place, so I chose the museum.”

“Why so?”

“Well,” Jeno shook his pen so the ink could come out. “This entire place comes to life with the royal plate, so I think we should expand the space and bring in more art pieces to life if we add another extra floor. A rooftop area for visitors and events would be fun. And definitely, we should modernize the exterior and interior a bit because it looks outdated personally. That’s also what my friends think too.”

Noticing the minor details of his plate whilst removing any unnecessary pens so it wouldn’t smudge, “Huh, I quite agree with you.”

For the first time since his night shift, you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), came into an agreement with him. He became so accustomed to clashing opinions that now, you had no contrasting points to make at all. A good change perhaps was what he’s witnessing.

“Woah, who are you agreeing with me and where’s (Y/N)?” He creased his brows whilst locking eye contact with you. This time, you didn’t wince away and just nudged him on his shoulder to get back to work.

“Hush, Jeno. Isn’t that due later? Get to work, I’ll roam around here for the meantime.”

After decades in this museum, you’re enlightened with the foreign paintings in which some you’ve heard of in your younger years and some that were created beyond your time. The Birth of Venus, Liberty Leading the People, Girl with a Pearl Earring, there’s an advantage of learning about their stories that humans couldn’t interpret. Logical that this section must be off-limits because these pieces were extra special, yet there’s so much more than what meets the eye.

There’s peace in silence while you wandered around, though it doesn’t hinder only at the art. Jeno hasn’t uttered a word since he got back to drawing, and once you asked him what’s doing now, still no answer back. Odd, he’s constantly awa-

Oh, my. You must’ve jinxed it.

Your eyes laid on Jeno leaning forward on his desk with his arms serving as his pillow, resting his head sideways. Soft snores and minimal movement in his upper body to shake the growing cold temperature of the room, he was sleeping like a log.

Putting into perspective, he hasn’t acquired enough rest specifically this past 2 weeks. The endless number of plates due making him work extra during his shift rather than sleeping in the slightest, exhaustion must be an understatement. Coffee no longer pushed him to his maximum for this week even.

But this was the path he chose, and it’ll have its challenges. Still, if you could relieve the stress in any way, you would. This would be one of the ways to repay for all the rudeness you’ve passed on him. Scurrying to his side, placing the plate on the side with his other things. You returned the caps of his open pens so they don’t spill. They must be expensive, recalling how Jeno shared the cons of being an architecture major to Princess Diana. One was the pens needed for sketching, and any tiny damages to them meant buying them again.

With his watch on clear display, he only had 2 hours left until his shift was done. Then, 4 hours until his plate assignment was done, and his current plate was far from done.

The blunt impulse to wake him up slithered your mind, though his calm state deflected your duty. As if you were on board a ship again for your explorations, you paid attention to the view with a relaxed mindset.

Lee Jeno specifically was the view.

His coffee-stained lips were parted and his sharp nose breathing in and out at a relaxing pace, he must be dreaming a happy moment the way half his lips curved into a smile. If he’s resting well, then you too would be calm.

Because of your past disinterest in him, only at this moment did you observe how sharp his jawline was and the cuts on his arms he sought refuge in. No matter how many times you tried to deny Hera’s compliments of him on the side, you couldn’t.

Lee Jeno embodied attractive features; both physical and emotional.

Back to his plate, it’ll put him at a disadvantage if he submitted the way it looked before he passed out. But you remembered all those extra details he mentioned and wanted to add to this project. Being an explorer, you documented all your ventures through words or drawings. You’re fast to adjust to anything new too.

For all the good he’s done for everyone, he only deserved some help in return.

Your version of help was sketching the remaining details of this plate, using other pens for more emphasis. It’s a risk also, but no way could you turn a blind eye on Jeno this time.

Around 5:30 am, Jeno’s eyes blinked open due to a brightening light from the outside. Stretching his limbs, he finds a velvet cloak wrapped around him like a blanket. But before he could question it, he pulled his arm in to see the time on his watch.

“Fuck!” He cursed, realizing that his so-called 10-minute snooze break aborted.

“Oh my, you’re awake!” From his frazzled state, there you were. So put together yet active, some strands of your hair falling down your face even with your hair up in a ponytail. “How was your sleep?”

This whole time he could’ve been woken up, yet you chose not to. You’re aware of his deadline, yet you let him rest entirely. He could’ve burst out in stress, yet he didn’t. You and he may have started on the wrong foot, yet it’s impossible of you to do such an evil thing. He’ll just have to tolerate the outcome later today.

“Refreshing. I really needed it.” Packing his things in his bag and closing the table, you trailed along as he exited with you. Locking up, he has 30 minutes left to accomplish the cleaning. A long good morning indeed.

But his worry of that vanished when you admitted that you had it all covered.

“Everyone helped out in cleaning, plus there are no damages made either.” From your hand, you returned one of his keys that was on his guard blazer. “I double-checked the Oriental Room and locked the doors again.”

“Why are you suddenly so nice to me, (Y/N)?” He questioned with confusion, wearing his blazer again and patting away any creases. He placed your cloak over you again like a true gentleman.

Without a word, you simply invited him to walk you back to your exhibit as parts of the sun began to rise. As you returned to your section, your fellow figures readying themselves to pose again,

“It’s my way to apologize for my very rude first impression and the succeeding moments after. I was too cooped up in my past that I was too afraid to let humans in again, night guards in particular.” You admitted, removing your cloak and placing behind your chair like always. “I’m so sorry, Jeno. Everyone was right about you and your kind heart.”

“About time.” Cleopatra’s sultry voice cut in, laying on her day bed.

Before you had the chance to flip off, Jeno mediated swiftly. With a gentle smile, “No worries about it. I’m just happy you’re okay, after all you’ve been through.”

“Can we start over then?”

“Absolutely.” With his free hand, he brought it out. No matter what kind of introductions, shaking one’s hand was the best way to start a friendship. “Good evening. I’m Lee Jeno, the new museum night guard.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), explorer and author.” Sighing at his humor, you still replied by shaking his hand. “And I believe you’re mistaken, Lee Jeno. It’s a good morning.”

Seconds after, you imitated your typical pose and smile. Only now, the latter was more genuine. Finally, a fresh start to end your agony.

Once the sun fully revealed itself, every figure including yourself froze back to sleep. Something Jeno wished to catch up on if it weren’t for his damn plate. He was so screwed, already contemplating his next steps if he does fail this class. The possibility of getting delayed in all aspects, he dreaded it already.

Heading back to his dorm, where both his roommates completely passed out from soju on the couch, he sat by his work desk and turned on his night lamp for more light since the sun wasn’t strong enough yet.

With another cup of coffee, he cracked the joints of his knuckles and laid out his pens. He had 2 hours left to submit this plate, and at most he should accomplish 50% of his initial plan. However, he didn’t anticipate such a gorgeous outcome when he brought out his plate.

Picture perfect of every detail he desired, even adding a rooftop area with that he’d love to have if ever the museum does go under renovation one day. Rather than setting the plate during the day, it was at night as the skies were dark and bright specks of yellow inside the building symbolized light.

So much for wasting coffee, he’ll just give it to Jaemin when he wakes up later. Below the final product, a note written in cursive was stuck on it.

 I knew you wanted to get this specific plate done, but you mustn’t compromise your sleep for it. It’s your inhumane professor’s fault!

To make up for my faults, I wanted to help you out. I paid extra attention to the details you spoke highly about, so I only hoped that I interpreted it correctly. It’s risky, but as someone who researched so much about me, would you be surprised that I did such a thing?

PS: Get back to sleep. I’m quite sure your desk is laid out the same way in the Foreign Art Room.

Respectfully,

(Y/N)

 Turning off his lamp, Jeno jumped the covers of his bed to continue his lost sleep. Without an ounce of care that he hasn’t changed into cleaner clothes, he’s relieved that he won’t flunk his class.

Most of all, he’s relieved that you’ve melted the ice in you and allowed kindness to come in. Jeno may never understand how hard that must’ve been for you, yet he raved you for it.

“Oh, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Surprise is an understatement when it comes to you.”

[thefanficmonster]

Rumors

Corpse Husband x Bimbo!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Mentions of Slut Shaming, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Tiniest bit of Angst, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When some rumors start floating around, every content creator does their best to either ignore them or defuse the situation. However, sometimes, the fans attempt to do the defusing themselves which only leads to a worse disaster. That’s the case for Corpse whose fans were quick to jump to his protection of some ‘false’ rumors.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request, it was a joy to write. I’m sorry for how long it has taken me to complete and post the fic but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy reading it at least half as much as I enjoyed writing it! Love, Vy ❤

Corpse cracks his knuckles, then his shoulders, then his collarbone, then the his neck. He clenches his jaw as he breathes steadily and rhythmically, trying to control an overwhelming wave of anger that he has never felt before. This is a situation he’s never had to deal with nor did he ever think he’d have to deal with and address on a fucking livestream on top of all, but here he is now, doing his best to count to ten and not go on a Twitter responding spree, calling people out on their bullshit. He wanted to do so, he still wants to, but he was stopped in his intentions and brought to a calm mindset where he was swayed into dealing with this the civil way and not by roasting the fuck out of any and every foul-mouthed person he’s seen on his Twitter timeline.

He can’t really guarantee and civility during the stream either, he’s aware his tolerance is as thin as a stretched out, old rubber band and is a slight tug away from snapping and allowing him to unleash hell on these people because of who he’s been seeing red these past few days. 

Let’s not risk a misunderstanding here - Corpse absolutely loves and adores his fans, but seeing this behavior from them is quite upsetting and disappointing. When he uses the terms like ‘assholes’, ‘jerks’ and ‘rude motherfuckers’ he isn’t referring to them. He knows they are good people, but are using the completely wrong tactic of defending him, not to mention he doesn’t even need defending. Even if he did, he’s more than capable of doing it on his own and not getting other people involved.

“Hello everyone, hope you’re doing well.“ He finally settles on saying, officially kicking off the stream. If there’s any indicator of the serious nature of this stream, it’s probably the lack of lo-fi and the lack of even attempted playfulness and cheeriness in his voice. That’s how you know shit isn’t to be messed around about. “I just realized I didn’t specify what I’ll be doing in the Tweet, but I’ll tell you now, so those who aren’t interested in the subject or want to steer clear of the drama can leave. However, I wouldn’t advise clicking off considering this will be an overall, how do I say this, rant, of sorts? It’s meant to knock some sense in the people who have been spreading hate for a specific person on all social media platforms she’s active on.“

The majority of the viewers are already familiar with the subject, some even guilty of spreading the hate Corpse mentioned, but there are a few that are completely clueless - the ones actually not interested in online drama, not just saying they ‘hate drama’. With those people in mind, Corpse takes to addressing the issue from its very beginning.

“So, for a month now, me and this streamer, who’s also a TikTok star, by the name of Y/N have been interacting a lot on social media. She’s an incredibly sweet girl that a lot of people have prejudice towards. She’s very misjudged and misunderstood because people see he solely as her content, if that makes sense. They only know she’s that streamer who wears revealing clothes on her streams and posts risqué pictures on her Instagram. Like, no.“ Corpse cannot even fully believe he has to address this and that slut-shaming people is still a thing in the twenty-first century. He closes his eyes for a moment, fist tightening and his knuckles turning white, “I don’t understand how so many people can be so shallow and just plain jerks towards her in general, but then again - this is especially for my fans, the members of my fandom - I don’t understand the need you guys feel to put Y/N down to defend me from some ridiculous rumors as if it’s the first time I’ve had to deal with people talking shit for attention or to get someone canceled.“ He sighs, reminding himself to slow his roll as to not confuse any viewers who still don’t know the full story, “Anyway, back to the timeline of events. So, considering we’ve never interacted before, all the replying to comments, retweeting, liking posts and whatever sparked some dating rumors. Isn’t that just fucking hilarious - you see two people interacting on social media and the first thing that comes to mind is that they’re in a romantic relationship. Where did the friendship go? Does no one value or consider friendships to be a valid type of human relation anymore?“ He runs a hand through his hair, making another pause to clear his mind and prevent his frustration from overflowing. He promised he wouldn’t lose his cool and would remain calm and collected, but the more he talks about it the tighter he clenches his fist and the faster his heartrate is. His neck and ears are red from the tension he feels all over, almost like he’s physically restraining a raging wild animal and not just his own thoughts and emotions.

There’s layers to his anger, the lower ones - aka the ones he’s yet to get to - will be a nightmarish test of his self-control, he already knows it. Judging by how much of a toll this rant has already taken on him, his patience and control growing thinner and thinner, he’s not sure how he’ll power through the last layers without his voice raising awfully high in volume and his fists searching for some object to punch. To an ignorant eye, his reaction would seem exaggerated and overboard, but little does that ignorant eye know...

“When some of my fans saw those rumors, they reacted very badly. It was quite disappointing to see. Guys, I appreciate you standing up for me even though you shouldn’t do that - I can defend myself, not that this was a matter I needed defending from to begin with. But just the way some of you went about it was horrifically wrong and quite upsetting, to me but especially to Y/N herself.“ He can feel it, the aggravation growing, bubbling up in his chest, “What I saw disgusted me, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. The things some of you were saying...I couldn’t believe you are in fact the same people who are my fans, my lovely fans who I’ve always thought so highly of. Never did I think you could be able of slut-shaming so vulgarly and grossly, I couldn’t believe what I was reading.“

He has every right to be upset - the things being said about Y/N were truly awful and a lot of things being said were meant to defend Corpse and defuse the rumors, doing so while stomping all over Y/N and her content. Rightfully so, many of her fans were outraged and quick to jump to her defense but were unfortunately outnumbered, leading Corpse to believe not many of her fans are actually real or as dedicated as his which only fueled his fury further.

Anyway, let’s take a look at Y/N’s point of view. Being a content creator for as long as she has, refusing to change her style no matter how many people disagreed and insulted her about it, she’s grown quite used to people spitting insults at her on every social media possible. It’s sad how throughout the majority of her content creating career she’s only had haters, creeps and fake fans watching her videos and streams. Rare are those in her fandom who’d actually stick up for her and defend her in ‘scandals’ such as this one. However, no amount of experience with dealing with hate could have prepared her for this outpour of some of the meanest shit she’s ever heard and been called in her life.

Y/N likes the content she makes, she’s comfortable in her skin and loves her body. She loves showing it off too and nor she nor anyone who wants that deserves to be shamed for who they are and what they do, especially when they aren’t hurting anyone and their content is still appropriate. People have always bashed her for all elements of who she is: her appearance, her clothing style, her streams, her gaming skills, her voice on occasion. She can count the instances when she’s received positive feedback on the fingers of her hands which would depress anyone else but not her. She’s always created content for her own amusement and entertainment so people’s opinions never really bothered her. Until now, until this very drama that has hit a specific nerve, an insecurity of hers she’s never talked about. The comments such as:

(Vy Speaking: Comments containing slut-shaming ahead, go to ### if you want to skip)

“Corpse would never date a slut like her“

“Corpse dating this thot? Please internet stop being ridiculous“

“Corpse ain’t a pimp, y’all need to chill“

“Even if they datin they gon break up soon - whore stays a whore“

###

bothered her far more than she’d like to admit. She has no one to open up about it either, she knows what she’ll get in response if she does - she’ll be told it’s her fault. Her fault because of the way she dresses, the way she talks and acts, because she chose this career to begin with. All her fault. The only person she can turn to she refuses to because she doesn’t want to be a bother - not after so many people confirmed her worries that she’s not good enough for him already anyway, the least she can do is avoid bothering him the best she can.

And that is exactly why this has upset Corpse so much.

“Here’s a little message specifically meant for those who claimed I’d never date someone like Y/N or specifically Y/N. You better listen carefully: Don’t you ever, and I mean EVER slut-shame my girlfriend or any other person ever. I cannot believe I have to explicitly remind you that your behavior isn’t ok. You should fucking know that your behavior isn’t right and that you’re a massive piece of shit for saying those awful things about others you judge solely on appearance and clothing. Does it surprise you that I am, in fact, dating Y/N? If you say yes for the reason you think she’s not good enough for me or that I deserve better, please get the fuck out of my fandom. No one disrespects my girl and gets away with it. That’s final!“

Though still under the influence of a flurry of negative emotions, overhearing Corpse literally telling people to exclude themselves from his fandom for being mean to her, Y/N’s taking a step towards emotional recovery knowing her boyfriend will always have her back. He’ll always be there to prove people wrong, defend her and stand by her. He’ll be there to catch her when the hate knocks her off her feet.

But most importantly: he’ll never ask her to change. Not her style, not her clothes, not her personality, nothing. He fell for her the way she is and for who she is, and he will never allow anyone to try to change her either. For someone who’s never had much support all her life, a single speck of support overpowers all the hate within the blink of an eye. Corpse will always be her knight in shining armor, the knight who defeated all the hateful demons by just entering her life. And though she’s still struggling with the ‘Am I good enough for someone so wonderful?’ and ‘He deserves better, doesn’t he?’ questions, with his hand holding hers, she’ll never let those doubts and insecurities overpower her.

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[mushroomminded]

It's not often I'll say "please post this ask publicly cos I think it'll help not just you, but others as well", but regarding your grief response at Pepper's passing (feel free to tag with the proper trigger warnings of course, and forgive the uncensored swearing but it would feel a little ingenuine of me to not express the specific emotions here fully, and unfortunately yer mans SJ is a sailor mouth):

You've nothing to be guilty or feel self conscious over as to how you're handling and processing it. I know western society as a whole kind of has this idea of what someone grieving a death should "look" and act like, to the point that when we don't match it ourselves we get weirded out, but emotional responses to death are varied and complicated. No one person grieves the same way. I myself relate very heavily to you right now: I've lost two family members in my lifetime, one which was out of nowhere and one which was the end result of a couple of years of scares and age catching up to them. For the former, I only cried once, at their funeral (during the actual service). Otherwise, my emotions were fairly stable- even when I received the very sudden news that they had died unexpectedly, my reaction was a measured "ah, fuck. ok". And for the latter... well, as said, that one cane after a couple of years where they'd been in and out of hospital due to this or that, including strokes. And that was on top of watching gradual decline from age that kicked off before then, as I watched them go from fiercely independent and fairly airheaded/dopey to requiring carers and, whilst not succumbing to dementia as badly as some do, still seeing it take a noticeable impact on them. When they finally did pass, my reaction was closer to "It's been a long time coming; at least their suffering is over". I didn't attend their funeral- they passed in 2020 in the middle of our first major lockdown, so attendance was strictly limited, and I knew there were other people in my family who needed to be there more than I did (I had already made my peace and said my goodbyes over the scares and stretch of time watching them deteriorate).

Does any of that mean I don't care? Not at all. The sudden death was a beloved uncle- a massive wind up merchant and the family clown who made all of us both smile and groan in equal measure, and though he hadn't had the healthiest life there was *no* indication he was going to have a fatal heart attack until it happened. He was barely in his 60s. Whilst I may not think of him every single day, his lack of presence is still felt six years later. The atmosphere of family gatherings is still noticeably different without him. And the other death was my maternal grandmother- who was very independent throughout even a good stretch of her golden years and through several operations for physical ailments (we're talking a lady who was still going off to Spain by herself until at least her mid-late 70s, very early 80s tops). She was always a bit dappy and daft, mind you- but that's what we loved about her. Over much of my twenties I watched her gradually lose more and more independence as age took its toll on her body and mind, until before long it was like she wasn't the same person I knew anymore. In spite of how hard those last couple of years were, her presence too is missed. I loved them both. On a more directly relatable to this situation note, some cousins of mine nearby have a black lab named Busby; he's extremely affectionate, super excitable, loves his food, and used to go absolutely mental for Catch. I say "used to", because he's 13 now; his legs, especially his back ones, aren't what they used to be- he can still walk, but he has difficulties getting up and down (and actually walking itself, sometimes). His stomach is far weaker, so we can't give him as many treats as we used to (in fact, we can't really give him any more than like, one every couple of days). Though he's still got a youthful personality, he's pretty clearly in his twilight years, and approaching the end of his life. Me and my parents have looked after Busby many times over the years when needed, due to how close by my cousins are- this place is such a second home to him that he recognises the house, and always pulls a little down our driveway when walked passed it. I bloody love that dog as if he was my own, and it's sad to know he's not got a lot of time left, but I'm holding up ok. I know when he does go, I will be alright.

I don't think you'd call me callous or cruel or uncaring for reacting to their passings the ways I did, because you'd be able to tell from the way I talk about them- and specifically the way I word things when talking about their passing in the case of the first two examples- that I did. That they mattered to me, and their deaths had an impact. I'm just very lucky that when faced with that specific grief of losing a loved one, my emotions stay stable and I'm able to compartmentalise- usually so I can be the rock to people around me who are having a really difficult time with it. This is the first time since you and I became friends that I've known you to encounter loss, but I suspect you might be the same to a degree- obviously it's too early on in the process to call and I could see how much Pepper's last year was tearing you apart on some days, but that's my reading.

Your love for others is evident in every aspect of your character and personality, how you interact with other people or talk about the people you care about. You have so much love to give, Emily, and you give it often. I won't give you shit for doubting your own ability to care or feeling like you push people or way or you don't love enough because Same, Honestly™️, but take my word for it; your capacity for love is among the highest I've seen even amongst people I know. I would never, ever accuse someone with as big of a heart as yours as being uncaring or cold. Fuck, if anything, the fact that you're so set on immortalising Pepper alongside yer author avatar is proof positive of how much and how dearly you loved her on its own.

I really do mean it when I say that people or animals who pass away go onto their second lives in our hearts and minds; they may not be around anymore, but those memories are. Those experiences happened, and those memories are proof. We think of them as often as is necessary, recalling specific events or just general impressions or images of these people or creatures we knew and loved. We carry those with us until we, too, fade away, as we all will in the end. Loss is painful, grief is hard and weird, and nothing can be permanent- but none of that, none of that, can take those memories, those experiences, and the feelings and thoughts tied to them away from you whilst you're still here. The pain always fades, the sting is always salved, and what's left is all the good, briefly immortalised within us and everyone who knew them. The fact that it ended the way it did- that things must always end one day- does not change the fact that there once was a spritely little lass named Pepper owned by a wonderful woman named Emily, who was loved so very very much and who loved back.

❤

[sasarahsunshine]

Everyone in the BAU has serious trauma, but we tend to put more attention on Reid's, and I think that's because from the very beginning of the show he's the "baby" of the team. The whole team puts so much emphasis on caring for him, teaching him, molding him to be the man he'll eventually be. So when he faces his traumas, literal torture, nightmares, etc., we as a fandom cling to that. Because he's supposed to be the baby! They were supposed to take care of him, and they failed! And they knew the moment they failed, when they ignored his drug addiction, pretending it wasn't real, because if they acknowledged that he needed help, then they would be admitting defeat in the one thing they all silently vowed to do since episode one: protect Reid.

We get snippets of everyone else's trauma, but most of it was off-screen. Morgan and Hotch's childhoods, Prentiss's abortion, JJ's sister's suicide, Garcia losing her parents. Those are all major traumas that the fandom doesn't really put too much stock into (not that we don't, because I see plenty of posts and stories surrounding these things). And I think it's because the traumas are off-screen. They're things that happened, and then don't get talked about much again.

We focus on the stuff we see. We see Foyet stab Hotch nine times, and we see him murder Haley. So we focus on that part of Hotch. We focus on how he fears he'll never be good enough, never be strong enough. He'll never be enough.

We see Garcia get shot by a man she thought liked her. We see how her PTSD affects her later on because of it, how it scares her 10 years later out of nowhere. We see her take on the emotional toll of watching her friends, her family, go into danger almost every single day.

We see JJ lose her baby while in another country, and how it affects the way she mother's Henry (and later Michael). She thought she watched Will die, and we see how she struggles with that from then on out.

Emily freaking dies! She dies! Well, not really, but the team thinks she does, and she has to leave her life behind to protect herself and them. She loses her family and has to heal on her own. She was stabbed through, the light from her eyes fading while Morgan watched. She has to live in another country, under a new name (again), and heal her wounds all by herself. She can't reach out, can't get cookies from Penelope, can't talk to those she cares about most.

We see Morgan get tortured. We see him dissociate, going to that "place" he would go to when Buford was with him. We see his anger and his raw emotions when he finds his cousin, when someone he loves is hurt. We SEE him wear his heart on his sleeve. We see the mother of his child get shot, and it scares him so much he leaves the FBI to be a dad. He can't keep doing it anymore, because he can't risk losing his family.

I'm sure there are better examples, I'm just really tired and ranting about this for no real reason.

But yeah, Reid starts off as the youngest, the baby. He had trauma already, sure, but his childhood, like the others, isn't the main focus of the show. So, as a fandom, we notice the things we see. We notice the drug addiction, the emotional toll of losing Maeve, the prison arc. He grows up as the show goes on, and we watch it happen.

IDK where this was going. But there are my two-cents!

[mooniefics]

just one night

pairing : reiner braun / reader

word count : 2.9k

tags : fluff, angst, heartache, acknowledgement of reiner’s suffering </3

summary : being a field nurse had it's ups and downs, but everything about taking care of reiner braun was the best and worst thing about your job.

— originally posted 12 / 16 / 20 on ao3 —

"oh, you're finally awake." you set the tray of medical supplies in your hands down on the small desk beside the bed, shutting the privacy curtain before you returned to his side, "i was worried about you, you know?"

though most of his body had regenerated over the seven hours he'd been unconscious, he was still missing a majority of his right hand up to the wrist, the steaming, incomplete appendage he was now examining with a tired look on his face.

"what time did they bring me in?" his voice was husky with sleep, eyes low as they flitted over to look at you.

"around eighteen hundred hours yesterday," you said, placing the back of your hand on his forehead to check his temperature, "i administered some pain meds a few hours ago, but let me know if you need any more."

being a field nurse for the marleyan army wasn't the easiest job in the world, mostly consisting of lots of running around in the trenches with your heavy kit and avoiding as much gunfire and blood splatter as you possibly could while still helping the wounded. you had volunteered to work soon after the conflict with the mid-east allied forces had begun, seeing as it was either that or see your father be drafted out into the eldian unit to become cannon fodder like so many of the soldiers you'd seen barely able to crawl their way back over the sandbags just to bleed out and die before you could even begin to assess their injuries. you stopped keeping count of how many people you couldn't save after your first few days of active combat, becoming more focused on not going insane from how little you slept due to the rumbling of the ground from enemy artillery that shook the walls of the underground quarters and reading the letters your family sent from back home to maintain a shred of morale for the future.

though, the job did have some perks. it was always honorable for eldian families to have someone enlisted, and it also meant you could support your parents with your minuscule paycheck from the government. and, of course, meeting reiner braun was the biggest plus of them all, though you probably wouldn't admit it if anybody asked. you were a hard worker, and evidently had enough natural skill to quickly be promoted to the position that you were at now, assigned as one of the few nurses who monitored the wellness of the warriors and their prospective candidates.

"my regeneration has been slowing down lately, i should have more of my hand back by now." reiner murmured, more to himself than you.

"of course it has, you haven't been eating as well as you should be. i don't know much about titan biology, but i do know that a soldier like you, a warrior no less, shouldn't live off of sandwiches and beer, you've been losing too much weight."

he chuckled, a quick smile flitting across his face before he returned to his previous sulk. "you sound like my mother, chiding me about how i need to take care of myself. isn't there other patients that need your attention?"

"you wish. me and another nurse have already taken care of this entire hall, and you, mr. celebrity, get a room all to yourself." you grabbed a pen and his chart, scribbling down a few notes about his current status while you spoke, "plus, i'm supposed to be checking up on you every hour until you're all put back together, magath's orders."

he paused, thinking to himself before speaking. "so does that mean galliard is ok?" you nodded.

"and pieck?" you nodded again.

"and zeke?" you sighed, but reaffirmed once more.

"you've been checking up on me all night by the looks of it. aren't you tired?"

"gosh reiner, would it kill you to focus on yourself for a minute?" you rolled your eyes at his confusion, pulling up the chair at the desk to his bedside and seating yourself down, "this is my job, i'm used to doing my job. in fact, this is one of the easiest nights i've had in weeks. i don't know about you, but it shocks me that the guy they blew to pieces yesterday afternoon is asking me if i'm the one that needs to get some rest."

his brow furrowed, mouth drawing into a small frown. "sorry. i know that the war has been hard for all of us. i just don't want to make it any harder for you than it's already been."

you couldn't help but smile at his genuine concern, planting your elbows on your thighs and resting your chin in your hands. "you don't have to worry about bothering me, reiner." you replied softly, playfully adding, "you know you're my favorite patient anyways" just to see his cheeks flush red.

"is that so?" he murmured in reply, now smiling with you as he met your gaze.

"maybe." you teased, leaving him hanging for a few moments before you continued, "galliard's always awkward when i'm in the room, jaeger never has much, if anything, to say, and pieck, she's nice to be around, but she always looks so tired i feel a bit bad when i chat for too long with her. so, if it's anyone i'm stuck on the night shift with, i'm glad it's you."

you laughed softly at his expression, feeling a bit sheepish under his gaze. he'd changed quite a bit over the two years you'd known him, the shadows under his eyes deepening with a clear exhaustion, cheekbones becoming more pronounced and face growing gaunter as the stress of the war withered away at his physical and mental wellbeing. before you personally met, you'd always seen reiner as the physical embodiment of marley's armor, with his sturdy, unyielding frame, towering over nearly everyone he met from his stature, and the iron will that never seemed to falter no matter how many times he returned broken to the barrack's infirmary.

but now, you could see how everything had been taking a toll on him, how he was growing thinner and weaker each time he returned from a successful military assignment. you had come to learn that despite his regenerative properties, he felt every bit of pain that came with the injuries he sustained, experiencing the absolute agony of having his limbs shredded and bones shattered by cannon fire in his titan form and still having to push forward on the battlefield. you had an immense respect for him and his unyielding nature, but you always worried. even though you knew he would always manage to get himself back together again, you always worried for him. you remembered how you felt as you peeked over the sandbags, watching with a mixture of awe and dread as reiner threw himself in front of jaeger at the last moment to shield him from the unexpected volley of naval artillery, the way your heart thundered so loudly in your ears at the sight of his titan crumpling.

the relief you felt upon being ordered to his hospital room and finding him still alive was indescribable, and the relief you felt now being able to talk to him, to stare into his tired eyes and take in his handsome features you'd become so familiar with, flushed softly from your playfully exchanged words— you didn't want to see him go again.

"l-let me go get you a blanket," you said, snapping yourself out of your unnecessary thoughts, "i packed it away since i didn't want the steam to overheat you, but now that its just your hand and ankle i think it'll be ok to let you have it back now."

you quickly got up from your seat and slipped past the privacy curtain, opening up the supply cupboard with sheets and extra clipboards and things of the sort to pull out the blanket you'd originally taken off of him and put away.

you had to control yourself, to stop letting yourself be distracted by these thoughts and concerns about him. you knew as well as anyone else in marley that he didn't have long left to live. you hated that everyone referred to it as his 'term', as if after two years passed he could return home to live a peaceful life away from the war and bloodshed, to enjoy the luxuries of a normal existence that had been snatched away from him from the very start of his life. he only had two years left before he had to be eaten by one of those children, children that had similarly had their innocence and adolescence stolen from them by the marleyan government. you had told yourself over and over to not let yourself get so close to him, to not trick yourself into believing that maybe something could work between the two of you after marley's greed for natural resources had been sated and all the nations were finally at peace.

but you knew better than anyone that these feelings had been growing out of control, and each day you spent tending to him, watching him out on the battlefield, finding more and more about who he truly was besides a soldier only fed the fire you'd been fighting between fueling and snuffing out for months now. taking in a deep breath, you forced a smile onto your face, not wanting to concern him with an upset expression and risk dumping all your pathetic emotions out under his scrutiny.

"here we are." you hummed, flapping out the blanket a few times before you stretched it over his lap.

for a moment your face was close to his, close enough to see the small brown spots freckling his golden irises and realize just how intently he was gazing at you. you quickly retreated back to your seat at his bedside, still feeling his stare lingering on you, stopping yourself from asking him what was interesting enough to make him look at you for so long.

for another moment, there was silence, and you debated on making up some excuse to leave the room, but you knew you would have to come back in an hour, and he most likely wouldn't be asleep by then, but he spoke before you could think up any other escape plans.

"you know, i was happy to wake up and see you." you felt your heart skip, blinking at him, trying to make sure you weren't hearing things.

"really?" you mustered, feeling your cheeks grow warm at the sight of his smile.

"yes, really." he affirmed, the brightness on his face dampening a bit as he continued, "most of the time when i sleep, i get a lot of... memories, from my time in paradis, and they're not the most pleasant things to see while i'm asleep. and i was having another one of those dreams just now before i woke up, so it was nice to not be alone, you know? it's always reassuring to see you."

you felt a light flutter in your chest, nodding in response, torn between feeling sympathy for his nightmares or happiness from honest words. no, you had to stop being selfish. you had to stop letting yourself play along in this fantastical idea of a happy future.

"y-yeah, i understand," you replied, fixing your gaze down in your lap as you tried to avoid his intention, "i could put in a request for sleeping aids, if restlessness is becoming an issue."

"you know that's not what i'm trying to say." his hand reached out to rest over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, imploring you to stop ignoring the obvious.

"reiner." you said firmly, lips pressing into a firm line, "we can't. i can't."

you could feeling that light, airy joy twisting down into something irksome, settling like lead deep in your stomach as he replied. "what's stopping you?"

"everything!" you snapped, stopping yourself to take a deep breath and regain control of your volume before you began again, "everything.. this war, this never-ending conflict, and.. y-your term, your life-"

"you think i don't know that?" he said softly, too softly, somber gaze flitting between the hand in his grasp and your face. he seemed so small just now, seated up against wall behind the hospital bed that was too little for him, barely covered by the thin, old blanket that was fraying at the seams, not at all like the stoic, unwavering warrior he made himself out to be in the public eye. "don't you think i'm tired of pretending? tired of having people toss the topic of my death back and forth like they're discussing vacation plans? i love marley, and i love what i can do for the people who look up to me, for the people who rely on me to be the hero. you never ask me about paradis, you never ask me about how i feel about all of this, you never expect me to be the hero, and you're still always here to listen, always here when i need you to be. but i just want to feel like i don't have to worry about all that, even if it's just for one night... i know it sounds counterintuitive, but i want to pretend like things will be alright.. for you, for me, for everyone. can't we just have this one night?"

your hand trembled, fingers lacing easily with his like you'd risked doing a few times before, tears pricking your eyes, feeling like there was something cinching around your heart and lungs and squeezing tight. the heat of his hand in yours was pleasant, calloused palm fitting perfectly against the contour of your own, thumb stroking softly over the side of your own hand.

you swallowed your apprehension, steadying your breath and blinking away the mistiness threatening to spill down onto your face as you moved from the chair to take a seat on the side of his bed. "ok. one night."

the relief that bloomed across his expression warmed your heart, the stress that had been creasing his face softening back into the relaxed, sleepy looking smile that you always poked fun at when you brought him his breakfast in the morning.

"you have to be up at seven, so lay down right, i don't want you to complain to me about your back hurting tomorrow." he complied, shifting back down in the bed to rest his head back on the pillow, allowing you to let go of his hand momentarily to tuck the blanket around him. "do you want me to go get you something to help you sleep?"

"no." he murmured, gazing up at you, "just stay here with me, please. i'll sleep just fine as long as you're here."

there was something so childlike about his words, not in the way of immaturity or naivety, but something that just made you want to take care of him, to protect him from the corruption of the world outside of the obsolete confinements of his hospital room.

"i will." you said, letting your other hand find the side of his face, "i promise."

and so you stayed, you stayed as long as he needed you to, alternating between stroking his cheek and slowly running your fingers through his hair. there were no words exchanged, but the silence was comforting, the quietest night you'd both had in weeks, only occupied by the intermittent footsteps of the other nurses making their rounds around the hall and the soft evening breeze blowing through the half-open window above the desk. you didn't care for how long you had to sit there, replying back to the small movements of his hands with your own reassuring squeeze as he slowly but surely fell back asleep. but even after his breathing had steadied out, and his grasp on your hand had loosened, you still stayed seated at his bedside, just gazing down at his sleeping face as your thought to yourself.

the war against the mid-east allied forces had come to a rocky close, most likely guaranteeing marley at least a few months of tension-filled peace before another nation made their strike on their borders once again. but you knew that marley wouldn't wait for that, you knew that they wouldn't stop until they had the world in their hands, paradis included. you'd heard the private murmurs of jaeger before you entered his room, seen the open pages of his journal when he fell asleep at his desk, you knew what he had been planning. and you knew that reiner would have to go running back to the island once again, and even if jaeger's grand scheme didn't drag him there by his collar, he would probably go searching out his own resolution him.

you checked your watch. 2:10. it was your turn to check the patients in critical condition down the hall. you sighed quietly, pulling your hand away from his and leaning down to gently press a kiss on his forehead, something you risked doing a few times before when you had these especially long conversations that made your heart ache for him.

but at least, you thought to yourself as you flicked off the lights, reluctantly leaving the room and shutting the door behind you as quietly as you possibly could, at least you could give him just one night of repose.

[fallenfurther]

Homecoming - Earthbound

Chapter 2 of Homecoming. John and Jeff.

Thank you for the response to my first chapter and Josie will return later on as the story develops.. The next few chapters are set  within the last episode of the series  , between Jeff returning to the island and stepping out Thunderbird Two and him sitting down to take the rescue call. There is no way Jeff is fit and health after eight years alone in space, so these chapters fill in that recovery and continues as he finds his place within the family and organisation again. 

This chapter is an emotional one, so trigger warnings for trauma, death, last wishes. 

*********

Jeff placed his cutlery down on the empty plate, before leaning back into the cushioned back of the chair. The food was excellent, though anything was better than what he'd survived on for the past eight years. It helped that he knew there was no expense spared for his stay. It felt so strange but comfortable to feel full again and his body was feeling better for it. The nurse popped her head around the door and smiled.

"Want me to take the tray from you?"

"Yes please."

Lauren swished her way over to him, picked up the tray and left him alone. Jeff had various therapy sessions and doctors checking in on him and he welcomed the breaks from them. He just had to keep looking forward, knowing that the light at the other end was to spend the rest of his life with his sons. How he'd missed them. Each one imprinted in his mind, clear as day, spurring him on. They visited him when they could, though it depended entirely upon the number of callouts and if someone was fit enough to fly. International Rescue seemed much busier now than eight years ago. Eight years away from everything. So much had stayed the same and yet the important stuff had grown and changed. Particularly his little Alan. He was the smallest, just, but he'd matured, become more confident and was an amazing astronaut. Normally he would have been angry at Scott and the boys for letting someone so young fly Thunderbird Three. He'd always known the dangers of space. A teenager doesn't. But having seen Alan pilot Thunderbird Three, making her dance elegantly between asteroids, he understood. Alan had flown the Zero-XL to save him. The talent that boy had was incredible. How could Jeff deny the boy who followed so much in his own footsteps, who shared his passion for space? It pained him to know he hadn't been around to help nurture it.

Jeff forced himself out of his chair, joints complaining from his physiotherapy session that morning. The gravity in the Oort cloud had been variable but being back on Earth it had an intensity he could get no reprieve from. John had suggested a skint on Thunderbird 5, but the doctors insisted he have no Zero-G exposure until he was medically fit, insisting his body needed to adjust to gravity first. They also ruled out a trip in Thunderbird Three as the forces that would be applied to his still healing body would be too intense. Jeff was itching to witness Alan fly the Thunderbird first hand. Jeff opened the patio door and stepped out into the warm breeze and sunshine. He still had moments of panic when he realised he didn't have a helmet on, or when he realised it wasn't close by, but the fresh air transported him back to the time before he was stranded. Even now it didn't always feel real, being on Earth. Almost two months and he still had to pinch himself sometimes, still shed tears at the sight of his boys visiting. The small private garden attached to his room was a small haven where he could get used to the world again. He followed the path to the plant-laced wooden gazebo beneath which a table and chairs stood waiting. He took a stroll down the small path circling it, not quite ready to sit yet, the wind chimes tickling above him as he brushed his hand through the purple flowers, sending a wave of lavender in the air.

Eventually he had to sit down. His tablet was on the table where he'd left it that morning. Flicking it on, he pressed his thumb to the corner, activating International Rescue's secure network. John had willingly let him have access, walking him through the new filing system before letting him loose on it. Jeff was sure John or that little AI of his was monitoring every document he saw. He opened up yet another mission report, he'd started making a timeline of rescues, only for it to be completed by EOS, listing the main statistics such as time, craft used, and which sons were involved. The timeline was worrying. International Rescue had started off slow, only going to major rescues, however nowadays barely two days went by without a need to be called out. International Rescue had response times and equipment that outmatched local agencies, but it meant his boys were often being pushed to the limits. There were meant to be fail-safes in place and compulsory downtime to stop back to back working, but all that had been side-lined so lives could be saved. He'd started with the older reports and with each one his sons got better and more efficient at writing them, but he was starting to see their exhaustion. International Rescue hadn't been designed for the workload it was taking on and something was going to snap. Jeff feared it would be his boys. He'd just got them back and now he feared he'd lose one of them.

It was never meant to be this way. Jeff had expected a little increase in workload, but nothing like this. The GDF had tried to help, as he'd found out from the last report about their robots, but that had proved unsuccessful. He didn't want to raise it with them, not yet at least. Jeff planned to finish catching up with the reports, machine specifications and chat with Brains to see what had happened and what could be done. An idea was already forming, but he knew he had to be careful, and knew he couldn't step on anyone's toes. He could see his place in International Rescue wasn't where it used to be, though it had been suggested that he take over the comms so John could rest or do other work. However, this wouldn't solve the problem. They all loved him, were so happy he was back and yet it was exhausted men that visited him. They came often in ones or twos, often with bags under their eyes, sometimes even straight from a rescue in Virgil and Gordon's case, showering on Thunderbird Two which would be parked on the green behind the facility. They would come in trying to hide how tired they were to see him, sometimes a guilty look if they hadn't come sooner. Jeff understood now, he would complain if he didn't want to see them so badly. He should send them home with a clip around the ear and set his mother on them. Instead he opened his arms and embraced them, forever thankful that he still could.

He turned back to the reports, chimes filling the air with each light gust. He only looked up when some light footsteps came along the path, and a smile crossed his face. John, still in his uniform, settled into the chair before him.

"Afternoon Dad."

The smile on his son's face reached his tired eyes. John's inconsistent sleep was something Scott had mentioned. Getting John to sleep properly or to get him out of orbit was a challenge. Though he would often find time to pop down using the space elevator and would get Mum to help EOS with monitoring the world.

"Afternoon John, I'm guessing everything is going well? Will your brothers be joining us?"

"It is and no, they won't," John yawned, "it was a nineteen hour rescue so they are all catching up on sleep."

"Like you should be."

John rolled his eyes bringing a smile to Jeff's face. How many times had the boy done that as a teenager? Memories flooded back of John curled up with a book, Gordon, Alan or both on the living room floor, only for him to roll his eyes at something one of them had said. It was mainly Gordon, informing Alan of things that weren't quite true.

"I couldn't sleep."

"How about we go sit on the bench in the corner, the cushions make it extremely comfortable."

John nodded. Jeff brought the tablet with him and got up, his pace slower than his son's. John already had the cushions out the base and was on the seat when Jeff got to him. They sat down side-by-side, Jeff placing his arm over John's shoulder and pulling him close. His son didn't resist, laying his head against Jeff’s chest. This was the contact Jeff craved. Devoid of it for so many years, he still needed to be reminded that this was real.

"People died."

Jeff sat still, not saying the many things he could, knowing John needed time. John needed to work himself through it, needed to speak and be heard. So Jeff waited.

"It was a mudslide following an earthquake. Collapsed buildings and mud. That's what they had to deal with this time."

"Mud is like snow, it takes and rarely gives back. Hundreds of people are still missing, many bodies that may never be recovered, or will have to be DNA matched to be identified. We can do earthquakes and mudslides, we're efficient, but it takes its toll."

"They are all exhausted, physically and mentally. Grandma's enforced downtime but I don't know how long it'll last. Another rescue and they'll all be up and away before she can stop them. I would ground the craft for her but that would only cause suppressed anger to rise."

John's gaze was aimed at the ground, his whole body was unearthly still except for the rise and fall of his ribcage. Jeff knew John was thinking, debating what to say next. As the minutes passed and John remained silent Jeff knew it was time to coax it out.

"What about you? What weight are you carrying?"

John's fingers flexed, a hesitation, debating whether to share what was weighing him down more than gravity. It was the reason John was here, Jeff knew John saw and heard things the others didn't think about. Or if they did, they were helpless to do anything about it. John needed someone he could trust. He needed his father. Jeff's thumb started to rub the man's shoulder, offering more comfort.

"I…there were just so many people. They all had phones, all calling in. Some were petrified, others screamed, children and adults all with the same fear in their voices. All asking for help, to be rescued. Some were fine but it was a friend or family member in trouble. I talked to one young man through first aid, he had to tourniquet his younger brother's leg. His brother had already lost a lot of blood and was unconscious. I got Gordon to go there but when he found them it turns out the young man was in shock. He hadn't wanted to believe his brother was dead and he had done the first aid on the body. He had refused to leave his brother. It took Gordon five minutes to drag him away."

"I went straight from that to a child who was hurt and her mother wasn't responding. She cried; cried so much. She screamed when Virgil unpinned her arm and again when she realised he was leaving her mother behind."

A tear skipped down John's cheek. Jeff kept quiet, knowing too well what the screams of a child for a dead parent were like; how much they pierce your heart and tear into your soul. No matter whose child it was always painful.

"I heard so many last words. I've a document of names and last requests. Things they wanted to say. They are mainly 'I love you' to various family members and spouses. So many people wish they had said it more. I heard so many phone lines go quiet."

Another tear.

"I was working flat out, Grandma was taking calls from the island, but I still want to have done more. I wanted to save more. Maybe if I had directed Scott here and Virgil there or if I could have kept her calmer her rescue wouldn't have taken so long. So many lives were lost. So many we couldn't save. It's our job to save people. We should have saved them."

Jeff reached his right arm up and hugged John, tears silently falling. He knew there would always be rescues like this, where no matter what they did, many people would still die. There was nothing that could be said or done to fix it. The pain would always be felt. Holding his son, he let John cry it out in a safe place. It was his job, as a father, to be there when his sons needed him. He knew from the reports that he wouldn't be going out on rescues, his body too old and damaged to keep up with his boys. But just as his mother had, Jeff knew he would find his place again. He was still needed, even if it was just to answer the odd call, to help as Mum had all this time, to shoulder that burden and still be there at the end of the day, to help them process it all.

His eyes fell onto the mop of ginger hair, messed up by the position they'd been in, and smiled. It was the result of a hidden gene that had popped up and Lucille had adored it. It shone in direct sunlight and would give John an angelic glow. He’d been their quiet angel. Hardworking, often out of sight, but always there. The man's eyes were closed and he had become a dead weight against Jeff. It'd been more than eight years since a son had fallen asleep in his arms. There would be no complaint from Jeff. He would sit here for as long as John needed. Jeff peered down at his boy, heart full of love and pride for the quiet reserved man.

"I love you son."

[miracle-sham]

Memento Mori Cries Our Shattered Souls.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 1, Day 3: Grave} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] | | [Spotify Playlist Link] |

| Soulmates, are a tricky thing. It's said they're the person who best fits you. Everyone goes through life with half of their Soulmate's soul beside them in the form of an animal that represents the soulmate. |

| Marinette always thoughts she'd get to meet her Soulmate and the other half of her soul one day, and now she never will. Jason never wanted to meet his soulmate or be reunited with the other half of his soul. And now, like Romeo and Juliet, they've truly become star-crossed Soulmates. |

| Word Count: 1,371. |

| Warnings/Tags: Soulmate Au, Major Character Death/Implied Death/Temporary Death/Not Really Dead, Death Related Injuries/Injury Recovery, Miscommunication, Loss of Soulmate, Angst, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Language/Swearing, Starcrossed Soulmates, Wakes & Mentions of Funerary Customs/Traditions. |

———

| A/N: Okay so there's only one song on this one's playlist but c'mon, look my written words in the eyes and tell me that isn't the perfect Jasonette song. Yeah, exactly. Also Choo Choo dear readers, I'm back on the angst train. Grab your tissues and some liquid to hydrate yourself because if you aren't crying by the end of this, then I've failed my job <3 |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics or a specific Au, then feel free to send me a dm and or ask! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

It isn't a grave. An important difference, Marinette thinks to herself hollowly. There's a dull pang in her chest, and the constant ache of all her many, many still healing injuries. She shouldn't be up and about yet, it's only been a day since she was discharged from hospital. Her parents and the doctors would have kittens. But Marinette needs to do this. And she's already crawled her way up to her balcony chair (though with a little miraculous help of course). Because it isn't a grave but it might as well be one.

It's a simple little thing really, and yet… Yet it's a lot of things.

A shrine, well an altar. On the half wall besides her balcony chair. It's a small stone slab with a lit incense holder in the middle, and a few lit candlesticks in each of the front two corners of the slab. Behind the incense holder, in the back two corners are two bouquets of marigolds, white lilies, and yellow and white chrysanthemums. And in front of the incense holder, is a single photo of her soulmate familiar and all that she has left of her soulmate; Buddy the german shepherd.

Five days ago, her soul bond shattered. Her soulmate familiar nearly shattered too. It was a miracle Buddy only fell into a pseudo-coma instead. Unlike her though, he's yet to wake up. And considering the situation, he may never. One of the doctors—a soulmate related injuries specialist—had said it's rare but not unheard of for that to happen when the human counterpart to their soul familiar dies. And the final damning nail in the coffin was Marinette's own soul familiar counterpart appearing at some point after she had fallen into the three day coma. After all, it's common knowledge that once a soulmate died, you become reunited with the other half of your soul—your soul familiar counterpart.

Marinette doesn't know what happened to her soulmate's body (if there even is one left, considering the injuries found on her and her soul familiar counterpart). Nor does she have any memorabilia or anything that once belonged to her soulmate. And she certainly doesn't know where he was from and if he would've had any preferred cultural funeral rites. So the best she can give him right now, are the typical funeral flowers her parents both recommended, alongside candles and incense. Somewhat plain and generic almost but it's something, and it's better than nothing.

She chokes back a sob and rubs at her red eyes. “It's not fair… I thought Ladybug's were supposed to be lucky.”

There's a faint pitter-patter and a few droplets splatter against the altar. She blinks and glances upwards, briefly wondering if it is starting to rain. But the cloudless sky is all an answer she needs, along with the realisation of dampness on her cheeks and hands. She blinks again, and a few more tears fall.

Tikki makes a small noise of sadness, and gives Marinette one of those tiny little hugs she always gives.

Still, the grief hurts. Marinette will never get to know who her soulmate was. His name, what he looked like, how he smiled, his accent, what he liked, his favourite things, any stupid habits or mannerisms.

And she will never get to know if her soulmate even has a grave already. She could always ask Tikki, she's right there. But the kwami is stressed enough as it is that Marinette fell comatose for three days and nearly died from the injuries inflicted on her soul familiar counterpart. And five days without a proper Ladybug (and not just Master Fu stepping in out of necessity) protecting Paris has started to visibly take its toll on Tikki.

So, Marinette's little altar isn't a grave but it's where she's burying her grief and wishing the ladybug miraculous could do something to fix this.

———

It's not a fucking grave. If Jason had a choice, he'll never let his soulmate be buried in one of those fuckers ever, y'know just in case she ever ends up like him and is forced to crawl out her own grave. But he hasn't got a fucking choice because who knows who or where his soulmate is and what happened to her after he became a dead robin.

Well other than the fact, she's un-fucking-doubtedly dead and it's all his fucking fault, obviously. It's been six months since he crawled out his grave, and Talia had said the Lazarus Pit could heal broken soul bonds and soulmate familiars that died with the soulmate. Clearly fucking wrong seeing as his bond is still shattered as fuck and there's been no sign of Jules—the naturally shifting little soulmate familiar he used to adore. The kinda weird and scrappy looking calico tabby kitten that according to the internet was a cornish rex, that would sometimes shift into an even tinier, very round and fluffy hamster.

And Jason's spent enough time on the streets as a kid to know what happens to the human counterpart when their soul familiar counterpart snuffs it. If he's lucky, she'll be in a coma and will never wake up. And if he's unlucky, then she'll be six feet under like he was. Either way, she's paying for his fuck ups and deserves way better.

A small part of him wonders if that makes them star-crossed lovers. Like a reverse Romeo and Juliet—fucking ironic considering R&J were the inspiration behind Jules' name. He died, and came back only to find irrefutable evidence that his soulmate's dead—or might as well be—because of him dying first, and she'll never know he survived dying.

“It's not fair!” Jason snarls at his fate, vision staining green for a split second. He grits his teeth and glares down at the little altar he's set up in the corner of his room in whatever league of assassins' compound this is. It's got a single lit candle in each corner of the altar—a substitute for how there's supposed to be a burning candle at each corner of a coffin. Still doesn't make it a fucking grave though.

There's also a few bunches of flowers scattered across the middle of the altar—mostly marigolds, with a few white lilies, a couple black roses, a single pheasant's-eye, and a small handful of asphodels. It hadn't been easy to get them, especially since he couldn't exactly leave the compound yet. But Jules and his soulmate deserved this at least.

Marigolds for grief, white lilies more for the funeral staple than the meaning, black roses for death and mourning, pheasant's-eye for painful recollections, and asphodels for my regrets follow you to the grave.

Fucking ironic, seeing as it's on altar and not a grave.

The worst fucking part of being here, was losing Jules. The one fucking constant in his shitty life. Batman replacing him fucking stung alright, and he's never particularly cared for soulmates, yeah. He's seen and heard more than plenty horror stories growing up, and considering how small and cute Jules is, no way would've his soulmate survived Gotham. It's not like he cared too much about meeting her or whatever, but she was fucking innocent and now she's fucking dead. So yeah, she gets asphodels on her altar because he regrets being the reason she and Jules got shattered.

And the pheasant's-eye, well Talia and all the fucking assassins in this hell hole aren't giving him the chance to hold a wake for either of them. And it's not like he knows shit about her or has anything of hers to sit on the altar. He hasn't even got anything left of Jules 'cept his fucking memories. So all he can really do is recount his own memories of her to himself. Maybe he should write 'em down in a book or something…

All in all, it ain't a fucking grave. But it might as well be one because it's where he's burying his memories and feelings. After all, an assassin without a soulmate familiar, or a soulmate, is a lot harder to kill. 'Least he's got that going for him now. But Jules and his soulmate still didn't fucking deserve dying only for him to survive alone.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Quick reasons behind the Soul Familiar names and species, whilst I know Jason canonically is bad at naming, he's also a literature nerd so hence why he called his soulmate's familiar Juliet, also because it shifts form he can't call it Cat or Hamster. The hamster is because well this is half of Marinette's soul, let's be real, and the cat is because Calicos are seen as lucky and also I thought a Cornish Rex because they're highly intelligent, active, and affectionate and I think that fits Marionette pretty well. As for why Marinette has Buddy, it's purely because Jason reminds me of a German Shepherd and I feel Marinette would've wanted to become friends with her Soulmate as soon as she understood it as a kid, so hence the name buddy. It's not fully accurate to her canon naming skills, but that doesn't matter. |

| If you've been around since the early days of my Maribat/MLB Tumblr side acc, then this premise might sound familiar. Yeah, you've guessed it! It's the Jasonette version of my MTSPY au (rip, I'll get to writing it one day, maybe), aka/originally called LYLaLYL or Lose Your Love and Lose Your Life. I decided since I love the au but I want to re-use a lot of it but with some minor to significant changes. Anyway, if those au names are familiar/you've been around for my last year's content, then here have a virtual hug from me! 🫂 If you can't see this emoji, it's the weird two blue humanoid blobs hugging emoji. Yeah. |

| On a sidenote if there's an obvious difference in writer's voice for the end/beginning notes, tags, and summary, that's because I'm writing this very sleep deprived at 4am and may have gone slightly feral. Yeah. Don't do what I'm doing, get some sleep folks. Half the tags were written at the much more reasonable hour of ten to midnight instead though. |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

[hercleverboy]

so it’s rant time buckle up everyone let’s go -

spencer reid went through some shit in his life. The guy had enough trauma to last him a lifetime before he even joined the bau. major daddy issues and a schizophrenic mum? as if that wasn’t enough, add to that everything he went through in 15 seasons. that kind of stuff would obviously take it’s psychological toll. It’s part of the reason why he gets so defensive at times.

now- even if he’s my favourite character, I can admit that he is incredibly emotionally manipulative at times. specifically during his argument with jj in 7x02. that whole ‘what if I’d started taking dilaudid again would you have let me?’ was totally uncalled for a manipulative as fuck. but I hate it when people make it out like he was completely invalid in his anger? because the natural reaction to finding out your close friend who you buried is actually alive and well is to just smile and carry on?

I will shout this till my last breath but Spencer was completely valid in his anger. he shouldn’t really have pointed that all at jj, and he was a little petty, with his snide comments and sarcastic hits. but what else do you expect from someone who’s so used to being let down, has had everyone he ever cared about leave? he felt betrayed by jj, and rightly so. I know she didn’t have a choice, and I actually do side with her in the argument, but you cannot say his anger wasnt valid. As if you wouldn’t be fucking livid.

again, his emotional manipulation is seen again in season 15, when he calls Diana selfish for not wanting to fight against her disease anymore. it’s manipulative, for sure. A guilt trip. but you know what it is? it’s a son not wanting to lose his mother. Not wanting to accept the reality of a situation that’s been building for years. outside of the bau, his mother is all he had. and he knew it.

but as someone who loves the show and the character, I love that he has these flaws. it’s what makes him my favourite character. the fact that he isn’t perfect like people paint him out to be, that he isn’t just the genius boy wonder with a world of knowledge. He’s human, he has these emotions that get out of control and he has a nasty side to him, like everyone does. flaws make him so much more realistic.

and think about it, how many times did the team- his family- shut him down while he was speaking? of course he had a tendency to go off topic but the amount of times he was told to shut up or spoken over was consistent. that would take its toll, would it not? the frustration of being spoken over all the time, even blatantly ignored at times, and also babied by the entire team- would that not mount up?

spencer was very valid in his feelings, and the fact that the team repeatedly made him feel as though he wasn’t was incredibly wrong.

[skellebonez]

Monkie Kid Headcanons Part 2: Red Son and Demon Bull Family Backstory

Follow up to this post, with a lot more heavy thinking needed this time. Since these characters technically had backstories in Journey to the West, I wanted to really think over how to work those into what we have in the show (even though it kinda doesn’t 100% work and is really messy if you overthink it since the show throws some stuff to the wayside). This took me multiple days to work out so I hope it at least makes sense.

Warning: This one actually gets very VERY dark with emotional and psychological abuse detailed in the later half, so I am putting all of these under a read more. Seriously. I want you to be aware of this before you click that button. Do not ignore this warning please.

I PROMISE that part 3 will be a lot less heavy. I just wanted to get this out so I could finally move on from it.

First, gonna preface this with the fact we all know Monkie Kid is not 100% accurate to Journey to the West. Characters that are supposed to be dead are alive after all, and Red Son’s existence in the show itself in particular kinda makes no sense when I overthink about him. Red Boy is evil in his first appearance, but comes back redeemed way later in the novel (and with his name changed to that of an actual deity who had already existed outside of JTTW with a completely different backstory).

In reality, JTTW is fiction based on historical events and Monkie Kid is made to be a kid’s show and was never going to be accurate to the novel. Not even adaptations of JTTW are. So basically, I headcanon this: in the show, JTTW the novel exists as a highly accurate and very important piece of historical novelization (a non-fiction novel). But like most examples of real non-fiction novels (like Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood), it is not entirely accurate and there are bits and pieces that do not line up. It is, however, incredibly close to 98% accuracy and anyone in it who reads it is impressed.

That being said, Red Son did study with Guanyin for quite a few years (though he was not entirely redeemed like his book counterpart, he was getting there). He actually did learn a lot and was pretty darn happy to be under her teaching at the time. Mostly because he didn’t know what was going on outside...

Unfortunately, later portions of JTTW confirm that Red Son being taken... completely ruined Monkey King and Demon Bull King’s friendly relationship. So that, combined with other events in the Fiery Mountains, it is incredibly likely that is why DBK was so bent on ruling and taking out Wukong for good. He wanted revenge for a lot of stuff Monkey King did.

Before we get into the depressing stuff, I personally headcanon that DBK was actually just. Dead. Completely dead. That is why he went from being covered in floof to being big buff body builder man. Hair does not grow back when you are dead. Removing the staff completely revived him. I needed a silly weird headcanon in here ok?

Since Princess Iron Fan calls him her husband, not her ex-husband as he had divorced her to be with Princess Jade Face in JTTW, I think they either reconciled at some point or PJF... didn’t exist? Since LMK is a kid’s show the later is more likely... but this is my headcanon. Given her personality in the show and book I think it is possible that they mutually divorced due to losing Red Son, DBK remarried, then realized he still loved PIF and wanted to go back to her and she took him back.

We don’t actually know much about PJF so... uh... I like to think she was shockingly chill about it and is just living comfortably somewhere else now. And never wants to see Monkey King again. I hope she is living her best fox spirit life.

Also unfortunately, DBK did not stand a chance and when he was sealed it took a major toll on PIF. She was left alone, her renewed husband either trapped or dead under a mountain and her son kinda sorta still arrested by a deity. This made her more distant to everyone and a lot more cold.

When news of what happened to his father reached Red Son, he pleaded with Guanyin to be allowed to leave her teaching to stay with his mother. He knew what isolation felt like and did not wish for her to feel the same any longer. Guanyin trusted her disciple and allowed him to return to his mother permanently, if he desired. Alone.

This was a mistake. Oh boy was this a mistake. Heaven should have either sent someone else completely or had someone accompany Red Son to PIF to help her because this one decision is why everything in show happens.

At first things go pretty well. PIF is definitely in need of support, but she is ecstatic to see her son again. And that lasts. For a while. Until she starts to project onto Red. She starts to blame him for being captured, for not being strong enough to take out Wukong when he had the True Samadhi Fire, for not being there to keep DBK from leaving her, for not being there to help his father fight Wukong a second time. Everything is Red Son’s fault now.

This simmers for a while before it starts to come forth to the surface. She starts being colder and more distant and giving Red little jabs in their conversations. She says them so sweetly it always takes Red a second to register what she says. 

“Oh Red Son, if only your father were here to see this. Too bad you weren’t there to save him.” “I love you my son, even if you can be useless at times.” “Princess Jade Face would have loved you I bet, but you were far too busy with the celestials to visit. I understand.”

This starts to wear Red down after a while, until he starts to believe his mother. He WASN’T there when he father was defeated, he COULD have taken care of Wukong, he WAS the reason his father left his mother. She was as warm and loving to him as she was when he was a small child when he came back but now? Now she’s as cold to him as anyone else.

She is never outright physically abusive, that is below her in her mind. But other things? Like not having his meals prepared along side hers? Insulting him as casually as saying the sky is blue? Pointing out every mistake he makes when writing or working on a project? Taking his things and “losing” them, only to “find” them days later in a place she told him to look and telling him he needs to be more careful? “Mistakenly” locking Red Son in his room and ignoring his yells and pleas to be let out? Those are on the table.

And this is when he becomes obsessed with getting back in her good graces and starts to push aside his teachings from Guanyin. He just wants his mother back.

His mother does not come back... but his old self does.

Guanyin does not learn of this until long after it is impossible to convince Red Son to leave his mother. She has the kneejerk reaction to just take him back by force but... for some reason she does not. She lets him stay. Perhaps she does not want to make the wrong decision again. Perhaps she feels she taught him everything she could. No one really knows. She does not discuss this.

After a while PIF does lessen her emotional and psychological abuse, once she is certain Red Son will never leave her. She even starts to treat him nicely, like her son who she always loved, like a mother again, even praises and defends him from others again (and Red Son eats it up because this is exactly what he wanted and just fuels his determination to prove himself and stay in her good graces). And at the time the show begins she has come to terms with the fact Red Son was not, in fact, at fault for anything and even regrets this portion of her life.

Make no mistake, however, her treating him less bad, even well at times, now does NOT in any way absolve her of how she treated him in the past. She is still abusive and she has done nothing that could truly set anything right. She still calls him things like “her sweet useless boy” and pulls shit like the racing episode. It’s not really any better. It’s just not actively as bad as it used to be at the moment.

DBK in show did not notice how PIF had changed because in the pilot he was too distracted with being revived and as the show went on he was too distracted with the power of the White Bone Spirit calling to him.

Upon a rewatch he actually seems to be under WBS’s thrall multiple times before episode 10, such as the racing episode where we can clearly see his eyes glowing with possession blue, and I think this affected his personality a bit. Not much, I think he was still neglectful and cold to Red Son from the get go, but WBS probably exacerbated the worst parts of his personality long before taking over completely.

But I think he sure does notice NOW that the thrall no longer has him. Whether or not he does anything about this is up in the air, however. It is entirely possible he falls fully into neglect and does nothing to stop anything.

Red Son knows, very deep down, that his father is neglectful and his mother is abusive. He knows. He just won’t admit that not even demons are like this to their children. Won’t admit that he doesn’t deserve it, that he never deserved it. Because he loved his mother deeply before he left. He loved her when she convinced him he did. And he still loves her, and his father. He’s stubborn. He doesn’t want to give up on that.

It is going to take a LOT for someone to show him that he deserves better. But having his father back has not been everything he had hoped it would be and now... now it may be possible for someone to reach him. At least convince him that SOMETHING needs to change.

[amimons]

Miraculous Sweet-ember (Sept. 30th)

September 30th: Chat Blanc, Félix, & Ladybug

Chat Blanc emotionally scarred all of us I think we can all agree to that. Everything we could’ve hoped and feared for was wrapped in this heart-aching episode. We’ve seen a possible outcome for a premature one-sided reveal which leads to the end of the world. After Adrien saw Ladybug place a gift for him in his room with an attached note from Marinette he instantly put two and two together. We all joke that Adrien is oblivious but in reality, once he gets the puzzle pieces he puts everything together rather quickly. Not only did he put together that Ladybug was Marinette he also knew that meant he was the boy she loved. Discovering that Ladybug was Marinette and in love with him brought him an immense amount of joy. He was basically on cloud 9. He ran off to confess to Marinette his love for her but made sure not to disclose to her he found out her secret identity. And then they finally dated yay!...until his father ruined it. Gabriel being his usual unpleasant self made Marinette break up with Adrien so he can manipulate her into being akumatized. 

Adrien wasn’t going to just let Marinette go so easily so as he went after her he saw an akuma making its way over to her. He knows she is Ladybug so the threat of her getting akumatized was even greater so he transformed of Marinette revealing himself to her...and Nathalie. The two heroes without seeing how discovered Hawkmoth’s identity...which lead to Chat finding his unconscious mother...and...eventually him being akumatized bring the end of the world. Chat Blanc is a cautionary tale of revealing information too suddenly. It’s neither of their faults for the destruction of the world but because the timing was off. Information was being withheld it caused the communication between the two to be incomplete. Their relationship was a good and happy one but because their added responsibilities of being a hero and having a supervillain trying to defeat them it adds complications normal relationships don’t have. So they have to be cautious not to let things slip up too suddenly. Chat Blanc was a great example of why we should take their secret identities more seriously and not get frustrated as to why they cannot share them yet. At least with Chat Blanc we had confirmed information that Adrien does suppress feelings for Marinette deep down, that Gabriel will do whatever it takes to get the miraculous even harming his son and that Marinette and Adrien would be happy together.  

Félix was about Adrien’s trouble-making cousin who happens to look a lot like him. It’s also the first time we’ve seen relatives of Adrien on the show with Félix being from his Mom’s side of the family with his mother Amelie Graham de Vanily who is Emilie’s twin sister. Both Adrien and his cousin can relate to losing parents but how they were shaped by their loss is a lot different than one another. Adrien sees the best in people and wants to make friends. Unlike Adrien, Félix is mischievous and has malintent with his interactions with others. As soon as he got to the Agreste mansion he was already trying to ruin Adrien’s reputation and steal Gabriel’s ring. Through Félix and Adrien we saw how grief can impact people in different ways. 

When Félix pretended to be Adrien his goal was to make all Adrien’s friends hate him after making mean comments to them. This made Alya, Juleka, and Rose become reakumatized and go after Adrien (who was Félix) as revenge for what he has said to everyone. Ladybug who already thought something was off with ‘Adrien’s’ (aka Félix’s) video message went to save him from the akumas. When the rescue was completed she was ready to go back intake them on that's when Félix tried to pressure her into a kiss. Even though she was uncomfortable he still cornered her in and tried to land a smooch. But then the greatest thing happened...Ladybug told him all about consent and punched him right in the face. A great thing to see. Seriously consent is extremely important and Félix was crossing major boundaries. Adrien never would behave in such a way so it was also very telling her that this isn’t Adrien. Ladybug punching a man who was not taking no as an answer was very empowering and I’m glad a younger audience will see this and understand that if someone is making you uncomfortable then you don’t need to put up with it.

Ladybug was another intense, jam-packed episode. It focuses on Lila’s lies, Marinette’s near akumatization, and exploring the depths of sentimonsters. We saw the alliance between Gabriel and Lila in action and the extremes Lila would go to get Marinette's reputation ruined. We finally started to understand why Hawkmoth was so hellbent on akumatizing Marinette. People view her as a good and trustworthy person that it would cause a lot of emotional response if she ever did a bad deed. Alya stuck by her friend and tried to investigate who would’ve framed Marinette. Adrien with such intensity threatened Lila to leave Marinette alone and forced her to clear Marinette’s name. It was also confirmed that Marinette’s akumatization would be a justice theme and seeing her be almost successfully akumatize was a big moment.

With Mayura we saw that it was possible to recreate human life with the Peacock miraculous which was showing this miraculous in its most powerful form. She created another Ladybug to trick Chat Noir so she can take the miraculous from him. This took such a huge physical toll on Natalie and just added more curiosity about what could’ve Emilie used the peacock miraculous for. We discovered that even though sentimonsters are real human beings they act and experience feelings just like humans. The deep insight on how sentimonsters operate was very intriguing and it was cool to see that through a Ladybug version. Hawkmoth also made another appearance after discovering Mayura was off on her own giving us another in-person battle with our heroes. This confrontation ended up being a showdown between Hawkmoth who was holding on to Chat Noir and Ladybug who was holding onto Mayura. We saw that Ladybug valued Chat’s safety over the peacock miraculous and Hawkmoth valued Mayura’s safety over cat miraculous. It was a good faceoff and I’m looking forward to more of them in the future.

About Sweet-ember:

For the month of September I wanted to spread some positivity and praise Miraculous Ladybug on the things I’ve appreciated/enjoyed from the show.

Everyday I’m going to select one particular moment, event, theme, etc. from an episode of Miraculous and shared what I liked from that episode. Each post will discuss 2-3 episodes (from season 1-3; 78 episodes in total).

Whether its something big or small there is something positive that I can take away from every single episode of Miraculous.

Please feel free to add a moment from these particular episodes that you loved to this post as well!

Salt towards the show, characters, ships will not be tolerated!

Sweet-ember posts

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17]

[18] [19] [20] [21] [22] [23] [24] [25] [26] [27] [28] [29] [30] [31]

[kyber-crystal]

Whatever it Takes

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~4.1k

Summary: In which Steve is always there for you through thick and thin. And in return, even when everything seems like it’s going wrong, you give him hope for a better future.

Warnings: angst (I mean this is Endgame, what do you expect), soft steve, mentions of death, violence

A/N: CRINGEY AF BC THIS IS AN OLD ONESHOT. I’m currently working on something else so I’m just putting this up as a filler oops

Tags: @pies-writes-and-more​ as always :)

Steve sat outside the compound staring at the floor, deep in thought. With the only possibility of victory no longer an opportunity, he didn't know what else to do. 

Then, a deafening noise broke the silence in the distance and he glanced up, seeing a familiar Audi R8 speeding towards the entrance. The car pulled over to him but went a bit too far, then reversed. Tony rolled down the window as he stopped.

"Why the long face? Let me guess, he turned into a baby."

"Among other things, yeah. What are you doing here?"

Tony got out of the car and walked around to the back, ignoring his question. "That's the EPR Paradox. Instead of pushing Lang through time, you might've wound up pushing time through Lang. It's tricky. Dangerous. Somebody should've cautioned you against it."

"You did."

"Oh, did I? Thank God I'm here. Regardless, I fixed it," He held up his right hand with a device on it, "A fully-functioning Time-Space GPS. I just want peace. Turns out, resentment is corrosive, and I hate it."

"Me too."

"We got a shot at getting these stones, but I gotta tell you my priorities: Bring back what we lost? I hope, yes. Keep what I got? I have to, at all costs. And...maybe not die trying will be nice."

"Sounds like a deal," Steve nodded, reaching out to shake his hand.

Tony reached back into his trunk to pull something else out, Steve's shield. He handed it over to him but he hesitated for a moment.

"Tony..."

"Why? He made it for you," he referred to his father, "Plus, honestly I have to get it out of the garage before Y/N sneaks over and takes it sledding. I wouldn't give up just yet."

He finally took the shield from him and fit his arm into it.

"Thank you, Tony."

"Will you keep that a little quiet? Didn't bring one for the whole team....We are getting the whole team, yeah?"

"We're working on that right now."

"Steve."

The super-soldier looked up, confused at the sudden seriousness in his tone. "Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For being there for Y/N...when I failed to do that, you were there to take my place," he explained. "Being a single parent was the toughest job I was ever faced with. Her mother disappeared without another word as soon as she gave birth, and I was left to handle Y/N all on my own. I was only 18. I'd made a shit ton of reckless decisions before and now, I was stuck and didn't know what to do. So for her entire life, before Pepper came along, she had to grow up with only one parent. She became defensive and cold-hearted and I couldn't do anything about it. I try to push her, she pushes back, or she shuts herself out altogether. I try to understand why, she sinks deeper. Sometimes I don't know just what's going on with her and as much as I try to be understanding, I can't. But you saved her, Rogers. I don't know what you've been doing to make her change but it's working, and I want to thank you for that."

"Tony, you did a good job raising her. But you have the rest of the team to thank as well."

"I think she's softened up because of you."

"What do you mean?"

"I've never seen her look at a man the way she looks at you," the billionaire pointed out.

"With hatred and a burning passion to kill me if I ever stepped onto her bad side?"

"No, her eyes get all sparkly and shit. She's in love with you. But I swear, if you do anything to hurt her and break her heart, I'll kill you with my bare hands."

Steve's eyes widened slightly, and he put his hands in the air in surrender. "Okay, I won't."

"One more thing?"

"Yeah?"

"If all of this, what we're doing somehow goes south, something goes wrong, I need you to promise me one thing. Take care of Y/N. I need someone to watch over her when I'm gone, and I don't think there's anyone more qualified for that job than you."

"I promise."

...

"And I...am...Iron Man."

You looked over in horror to see Tony snap his fingers with a loud 'CLANG' and a blinding flash of white. Rocket fired at a Leviathan and before it devoured him, it crumbled into ash. The Black Order started crumbling to ash as well. T'Challa and Quill looked around in surprise; Steve looked on in exhaustion, knowing that they had won. Thanos, in horror, looked around and saw his entire army disintegrate. He looked at Steve, who just stared blankly at him. Thanos sat down, mourning before slowly being erased from existence himself.

The raw power of the gauntlet's energy left Tony's entire right side fatally injured. He stumbled for a bit before his body collapsed besides a pile of debris. Rhodey soon swooped in and went up to see his long time colleague and friend slowly fading away before his eyes and not long after, Peter did the same as well.

"Mr. Stark?" Peter ran up to his fallen mentor, tears forming at the edges of his eyes. "Can you hear me? It's Peter. Hey. We won, Mr. Stark. We won. You did it, sir. You did it. I'm sorry—Tony—"

He barely had any energy left to respond as Peter choked on a sob, wrapping his arms around him before gently being led aside by Wanda as she put a comforting arm around his shoulders.

Pepper sat down in front of him, "Hey."

Tony was barely able to move his head, but managed to look her in the eyes. "Hey, Pep..."

She placed her hand on his arc reactor, and he rested his hand on hers as she took a good look at his injuries.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y?"

"Life functions critical."

Tony smiled with tears in his eyes.

"Dad? Hey, you're okay," you said softly as you approached him, "You did it. We're gonna be okay."

"Hey, angel," he said weakly as he took your hand in his. You tried to ignore how deathly cold it felt. "You did so well. I'm so proud of you."

"Tony. Look at me," Pepper moved closer to you as she made sure Tony got a long look at her smiling face. You involuntarily leaned into her, as you felt the familiar sting of tears to your eyes. "We're gonna be okay. You can rest now."

With that acknowledgement, the light in his arc reactor flickered off for good. Unable to contain your grief, you let out a tortured cry, sobbing into Pepper's chest as she started to cry on his shoulder.

Earth's best defender was dead.

Dead.

Your father, your everything, the light of your life. Dead.

You flinched when you felt someone's hand on your shoulder all of a sudden as you stood up, jolting you from your thoughts. Steve stood there with glassy, red-rimmed eyes, which was a rare sight because he never displayed any emotions other than confidence and complete control—and it was beginning to take a toll on your already broken heart. He was always strategizing and planning things out, charging headfirst into battle without a second thought and now he was on the verge of breaking down, tucking you close into his side.

So you let yourself collapse into his touch, a sob escaping your lips as you clung on to him like you did to Tony when you were a little girl.

You're not quite sure how long you stand there like that, tightly clutching America's war hero like you'll slip away if you let go. He was a life raft, and you were stranded at sea, hopelessly lost with the stormy waves violently crashing over you and choking you as you struggled to escape.

Eleven years. Eleven years had passed since you first met Steve Rogers, and his unwavering promise to you that he'd stay by your side no matter the circumstance still stood. Since the day you first joined the Avengers Initiative he'd been a major figure in your life, always sticking by and supporting you when no one else was around to do so. He picked you up when you fell; he didn't judge you on your rough past nor your worst mistakes.

Now you found that you were needing him more than ever.

And in that moment, Steve knew, he had to keep his promise. Not just for your sake, but for Tony's as well. 

So he swore to himself on his life that he’d never leave your side.

...

With a heavy heart, you dragged yourself out of bed to get ready for Tony's funeral. Alongside Pepper, you carried a wreath out of the house with his first arc reactor framed with the words 'Proof that Tony Stark Has a Heart' and laid it on the lake, watching as it slowly drifted away.

Everyone was finally gathered together as one, although it wasn't in the way you'd imagined it to be. Happy, Rhodey, Pepper, you, Peter and May. Thor. Bruce, Strange, Steve, Wong, Scott, Hope, Janet, Hank, Quill, and the rest of the Guardians. T'Challa, Okoye, and Shuri. Clint and his family. Wanda. Bucky. Sam, Harley Keener, Secretary Ross, Maria Hill, Carol, and even Fury, who was silently watching in the back.

After it ended you stood at the edge of the lake, hands stuffed in your leather jacket's pockets as you stared blankly out at the water. It was hard for you to think about how you were supposed to move on after losing one of the most important people in life, hard to imagine who you'd turn to now that the one man who gave you better advice than anyone you knew was gone.

"You know, I wish there was a way—that I could let him know," you said without looking behind to see Steve, who'd been watching you for a bit, "how much I loved him. Because I didn't get to tell him before he—you know."

"He knows," he said as you turned around to meet his gaze, "and he loved you more than anything." Almost as much as I do.

"I never got to tell him," your voice broke, lashes brimming heavy with unshed tears, "I just—I just wish I could turn back time and tell him that. But I didn't, and—"

Before you had the chance to finish your sentence, he circled his arms around your waist and pulled you close. At that moment you broke down into heaving sobs that ripped through your chest and your throat and your heart, unable to contain your grief for any longer, sobbing uncontrollably into his chest. And he just held you there in silence, rocking you back and forth slowly as your tears soaked his suit.

Steve wonders exactly how much more heartbreak he can take because to see you in a condition such as this one wasn't doing him any good, making his heart feel as if it was being shattered into a thousand pieces, then put back together only to be broken again into a million more smaller parts. He hated seeing the woman he cared about so much in pain and found himself wishing there was just some way he could just take it all away from you.

"I just really miss him," you choked out, "I...I don't know what Pepper and I are gonna do without him."

"I know. I miss him too," he murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead and pulling you closer, rubbing soothing circles onto your back. "We all do."

"You're not going to leave, are you?" you mumbled into his chest, "Please don't leave me."

"I won't, I promise," he reassured you, smoothing your hair back, "Whenever you need me, I'll be here."

"Okay," you let out a shuddering sigh, "okay."

...

You headed back inside, as Steve led you to the living room with a hand on the small of your back as you sat down on the couch, taking the letter that Happy gave to you.

"He hated writing letters. Always insisted on typing everything up, but he hand wrote this for your sake," Happy explained quietly. "I've never seen someone love their kid as much as he loved you."

"I loved him, too," you smiled sadly. "Thank you, Happy. For everything."

"No worries, sweetheart," he nodded solemnly. "Anything for his little girl."

The super-soldier gripped your hand encouragingly, lacing your fingers together and squeezing tightly as you unfolded the paper.

To my sweet Y/N.

If you're reading this, it means I've been faced with my untimely death. I mean, not that death at any time isn't untimely. This time travel thing that we're gonna try and pull off tomorrow...it's got me scratching my head about the survivability of it all. That's the thing. Then again, that's the hero gig. Part of the journey is the end. But what am I tripping for? Everything's gonna work out exactly the way it's supposed to.

When I first found out I was getting a daughter, I was sure I'd never be able to handle the responsibility of having a child. I didn't plan on becoming a parent so early and I was afraid, terrified I'd fail you as a father. And I feared that I did, many times. I was afraid you'd grow to resent me for what I'd done. But I persisted, because I wanted to give you the best possible life I could despite that raising you alone was probably the most difficult thing I've ever done. But it was all worth it in the end, because I got to see you grow up and become this beautiful, accomplished and talented young woman who would do anything for those she loves.

Look, I don't want you to make the same mistakes as I did. When the time comes, I want you to find a man that's willing to settle down with you and give you his whole heart- that's how you know he's the one. Hell, if you're going to go and get with Rogers, I wouldn't mind that either. Over this past decade, I've never seen someone as dedicated to protecting you and staying loyal to you as him and if you decide to get together, I'd be more than happy to give you my blessing. Honestly, I think the entire team's been shipping you two since the day you first met (Don't tell Sam I exposed him as a softie, though, he's going to kill me if I do. Or Clint). Seriously, though. Capsicle loves you, more than you'll ever know. And much more than he's willing to admit himself.

Don't be afraid. Don't be afraid to let your guard down, to be vulnerable and let the ones you love in. I know you're afraid of getting hurt, I know you believe that by building up those mile-high walls around your heart you think you're saving yourself, but it's really only going to hurt you in the long run. Love is messy. Sometimes you gotta suck it up and deal with the pain; that's just how it is. You get hurt, you get heartbroken, and there's a lot of blood, sweat, and tears. It's a messy process.

If you ever feel like giving up, like you just can't go on any further, just know that there's always someone out there who's rooting for you. You got me, the team. SHIELD's got your back, so does Happy, and even Peter. Know that there's always hope.

Remember that your past does not define who you are. Sometimes you can do everything right and things will still go wrong. The key is to never stop doing right.

You are not what has happened to you. You are what you choose to become.

Thank you for being born and coming into my life, becoming the best thing that's ever happened to a guy like me. Remember I'll always be with you no matter what, angel. I love you 3,000.

From, the arm-wrestling champion, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, your dad, and #1 fan. I love you so much. -T.S

A tear slipped down your cheek and dripped onto the paper, staining the corner with a dark spot as you folded it back up and set it on the table. You rested your head against Steve's broad shoulder as he wrapped an around your waist in a protective manner, pressing a lingering kiss to the side of your forehead.

...

Several days passed and Steve knew it was growing closer to the time he would be forced to make the most difficult decision of his life. As much as he wanted to stay, he knew what he was about to do was absolutely necessary to restore the universe to normal once again.

Night after night for the next three weeks, you woke up screaming with sweat streaming down your face, a shiver running down your spine and images of Tony dying in front of your eyes with you not being able to do anything about it flashing in your brain. He'd come into your room without question, climb into bed next to you, and hold you close, rocking you back and forth and humming old lullabies his mother used to sing to him as a child until you fell asleep, your breathing and rapid heartbeat finally steadying.

Everyone could tell something was going on between the two of you, but because you were so heavily weighed down by your grief that you didn't think before you did anything, they didn't question why you were suddenly so close to the super-soldier. He was your anchor, your safe haven you so desperately needed and were convinced would sink below your endless stream of thoughts without.

The dreaded day finally came and with a heavy heart, Steve got up and watched your peacefully sleeping figure in bed for a moment before leaving and heading outside.

Bucky, Bruce, and Sam were already waiting by the time he met them by the time machine.

He then walked over to Bucky. "Don't do anything stupid 'till I get back."

"How could I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

The two men both exchanged a quick hug with each other.

"Stay safe, buddy."

"It's gonna be okay, Buck. If this somehow—takes longer than it's supposed to—or I don't come back at all—promise me you'll watch out for her, alright?"

"I will," Bucky nodded.

Steve went over to the Quantum portal, donning the red and white suit.

"How long is this going to take?" you asked.

"For him? As long as he needs. For us? Five seconds," Bruce replied.

The super-soldier picked up Mjolnir 2013.

"Ready, Cap? Alright. We'll meet you back here, okay?"

"You bet."

"Going quantum. Three, two, one—"

With that, he disappeared into the quantum tunnel.

"And returning in five, four, three, two, one—"

Steve didn't appear on the pad right away, and Bruce looked around the equipment in confusion.

"Where is he?" Sam questioned.

"I don't know. He blew right by his time stamp. He should be here."

"Well, get him back."

"I'm trying."

"Get him the hell back!"

"I'm trying, I'm trying!"

"Sam," Bucky cut in.

Sam walked towards him, and him, Bucky, and Bruce saw his familiar broad-shouldered figure in the distance, so they went near him.

"Go ahead," Bucky gestured over to him with a small smile.

Sam went over to Steve, who was silently staring out at the water ahead with his hands stuffed in his pockets. He still looked the same, with his signature leather jacket and khakis. If it weren't for the subtle lines etched in his face from years of enduring hard battles against both himself and other enemies, from his newfound grief, one would think he was barely over thirty years old.

"Cap?"

"Hey, Sam."

"So did something go wrong, or did something go right?"

"Well, after I put the stones back, I thought, maybe I'll try some of that life Tony was telling me to get."

"How'd that work out for you?"

"It was beautiful."

"I'm happy for you. Truly."

"But when I saw how happy she looked living her life...I didn't want to take that away from her," the super-soldier explained. "Seeing that she was able to move on made me realize I could do the same. I can't stay in a relationship when I know my heart belongs to someone else. I made Stark a promise to look after her....I can't do that if I'm not here."

"Is that why you didn’t stay?"

"Yeah," Steve smiled faintly, "I couldn't leave her behind."

"Well, uh...she's inside, if you're looking for her—"

"Steve?"

"Uhhhhh....never mind, there she is," Sam gestured to you as you were stepping down the porch and making your way across the lawn to him. "You want me to give you two a moment?"

"Yeah. That'd be nice."

You picked up your pace, sprinting towards him as fast as you possibly could into his embrace. 

"Y/N—"

"Why'd you come back? I thought you were going to, you know—stay with Peggy—"

"I couldn't, Y/N, and you know that."

"Why not?"

He pulled away, letting his gaze linger on your face for a bit before brushing a stray hair behind your ear. "I made a promise I couldn't break. I'd never be able to forgive myself for it if I did."

"What promise?"

"Tony made me swear on my life that I'd stay no matter what happened."

"Steve..." your voice wavered as you forced yourself to look straight up at him, those icy-blue eyes that never seemed to fail to give you chills and make butterflies flutter around in your stomach, "Why did you throw away your one chance of having a happy ending? Now I'm the reason why your last chance of living the life you always wanted was taken away from you. I can't—I don't want to stop you from being with whom you love. You came back, even when you had the chance to live out the future that you'd been looking forward to for so long. And you didn't take it. Why?"

"I don't need to stay, when my entire future is standing right in front of me. Y/N, you are my future."

"Oh my god—"

"Shut up," Bucky hissed, elbowing Sam in the side, "let them be!"

"So he's been in love with her this entire time and I had no clue?! He's been in love with her for five whole years? Took them long enough."

"Ten. Catch up, birdbrain."

"Look, I'm sorry—"

"There's nothing to be sorry about," Steve reassured you in a soft voice, "I made my decision, and I'm staying here, whether you're in favor of that or not."

You let out something that was a mix of a choked sob and a laugh. "I can't get rid of you?"

"Unfortunately not," he chuckled, "as far as I know, you're sticking with me, because I love you too much to let you go."

"I hate to break the sentimental mood you've created here, you mumbled into his chest, "but...do you mean like...you're actually in love? Because that's what Dad would always say. If a man doesn't leave your side he either just wants to annoy the hell out of you, or is hopelessly in love with you."

"He's not wrong."

"Okay, then I—"

Steve quickly silenced you by leaning down and placing his lips lightly on yours, which took you completely by surprise. It was as if the entire world stopped when your lips met, your body warming up under his touch - a feeling that you'd never really get used to although you'd been working with him for as long as you could remember. You felt as if you were going to explode from the sheer amount of passion and adrenaline coursing through your body.

"I was going to say I love you too," you let out a sound that was a mix between a choked sob and a laugh. "before you—uh—cut me off like that."

"Oh," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as his cheeks flushed a bright pink, "sorry."

"I'm gonna say it! You two. Have taken. Too damn long! To admit! You're in love! With each other!" Bucky clapped with every few words he said. "That’s all you say in response to her telling you she lo—"

"Man, shut the hell up," Sam grumbled. "as if you're dating anyone right now."

[my-darling-boy]

im wondering if you think that edward brittain and geoffrey thurlow were lovers. because i know the movie implied that perhaps there was something more there, bu from reading the book as well as 'letters from a lost generation' i didnt get that impression. just wondering your thoughts!

Right okay I’m about to InfoDumpᵀᴹ because the love Geoffrey and Edward had is one of the main things that got me into learning about WWI years ago!!! So allow me to shed some light on these boys specifically!

So firstly, Geoffrey Thurlow was inserted swiftly into Edward Brittain’s life and the two got on INSTANTLY in early 1915 after Edward was commissioned to the Sherwood Foresters. For a long time, Victor Richardson had been Edward’s trusted friend, as of course they knew each other from their Uppingham days, but it’s apparent in Testament of Youth, Letters From a Lost Generation, and the other works by the family’s historian Mark Bostridge, that Geoffrey and Edward became VERY close VERY fast. And while it could be written off as a friendship..... there is a lot of evidence that, even ignoring my own conjectures, is hard to dispute the fact that their relationship was more than friendship, even if it never became sexual or explicitly physical.

On top of the two becoming quickly inseparable, they also frequented expression of their desire to be with one another while the other was away, Thurlow often sending Edward very affectionate and borderline romantic letters and postcards on a whim, even sending him one rather Cryptic postcard on Valentine’s Day one year. The two insisted on doing many activities together, and many found them a perfect fit, Geoffrey a rather dreamy, expressive, and emotional young man, while Edward was practically the opposite; it’s suggested that they adored each other so much due to their personalities complimenting the other’s quite well: Edward was able to provide Geoffrey with reassurance and That Officerly Gay Protectiveness, while Geoffrey’s understanding and soft demeanor provided an open window for Edward to share his insecurities when he couldn’t show them to the other men. And while it could be said that Edward was more hesitant to be with Geoffrey in such a manner, even if Geoffrey felt no personal conflict, the two wanted to be very, very personal.

Both boys stayed connected regularly, no matter where they were, through intimate correspondence. As I mentioned, a good majority of their letters involve either one of them, but specially Geoffrey, longing poetically to be out in nature with the other or wishing they were together, but not at present, not wanting the other to be in harm’s way. A lot of Geoffrey’s letters to Edward, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, are signed “Him that thou knowest thine” or just “thine”. Of course this means “yours” or “you who know that I am yours”. And while this sort of thing, at least in my latter wording, was not an uncommon expression between men at this time, it’s..... the first way it’s worded that surprises me. For lack of a more eloquent explanation, it’s Gay as Hell to be THAT poetic to your new soldier friend, even for 1910s standards. One might ask why he simply wouldn’t just write “yours” instead of adding the special style, and making the extra effort to imply “not only am I yours, but you know as well as I do that I’m yours”. One might even ask if it was to refer to a special meeting, or inside romantic reference, such as the way in which Roland and Vera signed their own letters to each other, “au revoir”. Literally one letter from Thurlow to Edward simply ends with “In Life, in Death, Yours”.

There were also several letters marked “private” sent to the Brittain residence from Geoffrey in the span between 1915 to 1916 when Geoffrey would have occasionally been on leave, and could write whatever he damned well pleased to Edward without fear of the military censors poking around. What makes this crucial evidence to support they were having homosexual correspondence is the fact that Vera burnt the private letters before she died to protect the boys’ wishes to keep them private, if not by Edward’s direct request for her to do so, something which by itself doesn’t seem so odd given the fact letters were burnt all the time for a number of reasons, but is especially compelling given the fact other evidence makes a strong case that they were together. What was contained in those letters is lost to history, but they shouldn’t be confused with the letters taken off the censors which later may have began the domino effect to Edward’s untimely death, as that was in 1918, over a year after the death of Geoffrey, and were about different homosexual matters with other ranks at the time.

Additionally: while Edward’s reaction to Geoffrey’s death is argued not to have been as strong as his response was to, say, Victor’s death, as support for the fact he didn’t actually care much for Thurlow, he wrote to Vera “I have been afraid for him for so long and yet now that he is gone it is so very hard—that prince among men with so fine an appreciation of all that was worth appreciating and so ideal a method of expression . . . Always a splendid friend with a splendid heart and a man who won’t be forgotten by you or me however long or short a time we may live. Dear child, there is no more to say; we have lost almost all there was to lose . . .” In my own mind, this letter is just the tip of the iceberg to how he felt. It’s clear that Geoffrey’s death had a greater toll on him in the long run, while Victor’s death seemed to affect him immediately. I can only assume this is due in part to Edward being so emotionally invested in Geoffrey versus Victor, and that Victor’s death evoked an immediate and present sadness, while Geoffrey’s was so difficult to handle, he couldn’t think but to react in a collected but sorrowful manner, one I feel was meant to conceal just how heartbroken he was, as though he was worried if he showed as much outward devastation as he showed for Victor, he feared one may speculate why he held so much sadness for Geoffrey...as though he was afraid people knew what was between them.

Geoffrey’s death seemed to CRUSH Edward, leading him down this path of dark despair and depression following his passing, and it lead to a lot of misdirected tension between he and his sister at times, and he subsequently turned far more reserved, uncommunicative, and apathetic than ever before. I’d even go so far as to say that Edward might have felt guilty about his own relations with Geoffrey after he died, possibly believing he could have done more to be closer with him, or felt guilt in having distanced himself from him in some way later in 1917. And after such events, he showed more distaste for the war, more lack of emotion towards his own life and its worth, and his letters often took a downhearted turn towards the end.

When he died, Geoffrey’s letter, the last one he sent to Edward in 1917, was found in his breast pocket, and I would assume this to be over his heart. It ends by saying “Till we meet again, Here or in the Hereafter,” and it’s speculated he carried this ever since the day Geoffrey died, and, most defintely, died with it close to his heart.

By my own conjecture, I say that Edward felt that he was both conscious of and without objection to his homosexuality, most likely because it was suggested in private schools at the time (take Evelyn Waugh’s comments on being interested in boys at boarding school as a phase that one grows out of) that it was a passing curiosity, and that such interests would diminish when one reached adulthood. I felt that he did romantically love Geoffrey, even if it never had the opportunity to become sexual or physically intimate. And because our own understanding of homosexuality did not exist at the time for him to have any model from which to reference comprehension of his own sexuality, I believe, that like most of his queer contemporaries, he had a rather ambiguous—near procrastinating—outlook on his own sexual orientation and relationship status, along with his view concerning his future life and possible wife.

The war created a near diversion from having to consider the possibility of being with a woman, and he could instead allow to let his homosexuality subconsciously flourish while being in the presence of so many men, and allow his romantic love for Geoffrey to remain raw and intimate without having to confront the implications such a future would hold for him socially, all due to the war being the only thing on his present mind. And furthermore, I firmly believe that Geoffrey held a deep admiration for him: he looked up to him as well as loved him. Though he was training to be a priest, he seems to express no distaste—rather the opposite, based on his letters to Edward—for flirtatious relations between men, and remains such a gentle and deeply poetic figure to Edward I have only seen reflected in that of homosexual bonds. In my opinion, being gay myself, and with having delved into scattered studies of male affection in earlier centuries, they were in love. It’s a story I so often encounter between men of their class in this era, specifically during the war.

I will also admit that, for some reason, from standing afar, the recollection by itself of what information is told to us about Edward and Geoffrey is rather.... timid...in some instances amid the background of Vera and Roland, of Malta and France. And the ones provided alone from most books are merely the “friendly” letters. The ones I’m sure we would really like to see were lost on Geoffrey’s side and burned on Edward’s side, and what others remain are held in private facilities and university archives, and only available in brief mentions online. However, looking closely, reading sections purely between the two boys, isolating only their letters, their language, and even digging further into works written from Mark Bostridge and other minor historians piecing together dots not having previously been connected, what love they shared feels warm and strong, if not simultaneously distant and foggy at times: such is the way the world remembers homosexuals unfortunately.

These boys never got the oppertunity to be with each other in the way we would like to see historic gay people, the way we swoon over the way Maurice and Clive or Alec were together in Maurice for instance. Geoffrey and Edward were in the middle of war, and there’s both so much poor documentation on homosexuals and so little chance in the chaos to a have a ditch-lectures-to-go-on-a-motorbike-ride-into-a-meadow relationship we expect to see, compared to other circumstances where it would obviate the way they felt about each other. But because of the war, it made it even harder to progress gay relationships due to combat, death, anxiety, and just a general lack of space and oppertunity to be with a man all the time without someone seeing.

I later discovered a while back this historian’s articles about the lives and intertwining of Edward and Geoffrey and they are packed with a brilliant compilation of sources and their own take on the relationship, which I was quite excited to have the pleasure of reading, for we share very similar viewpoints on the matter and even caught onto hints and details during our own reading of the sources no other readers seemed to talk about!

Edward’s || Geoffrey’s

What fragments which are left to us, if we understand just how forcibly hidden life had to be for these men, letters marked “private” and passing remarks of desiring to walk among trees with someone special speak of a louder and more profound story buried deep beneath them. It’s important to take into account that many of the known gay relationships we have record of today are not as well documented as Oscar Wilde. Sometimes, the only record we have of their love lost to time is held in the way it’s held here, in the signing of “Thine”.

I can only hope now that since they could not hold each other in life, that in death, they could finally be together.

Anyway, there’s my Novel, thanks for the ask!

[unexpected-possibilities]

So! Let’s talk mental health and extended lifespans for magic users!

This has been a topic of a lot of thought for me, and I’ve landed on a couple of headcanons that aren’t necessarily close to how it works, but they sound plausible and work within the range of things that I want in my fics.

First things first, I’ve decided to go with a theory that it takes about a decade of regular magic use to extend the lifespan of a human mage/wizard/witch, etc. This means basically using magic with frequency- a couple times a year with low-strength spells isn’t gonna give you immortality, whereas daily or every other day use will, no matter what level the magic is on. Over that decade, the magic user still ages relatively normally, maybe a few hitches here and there(I decided that Zoe blames magic for being short) but otherwise they’re not really stuck until that 10th year or so. So I headcanoned Douxie as having begun regular magic use at the age of 9 (quite early by any means.) which leaves him stuck at 19, assuming he always kept up with magic over the years. I put Zoe at starting magic at 11, leaving her stuck at 23. Now, wait a minute, that math just doesn’t sound right, you say. I’m saying that it took about 12 years for her extended lifespan to kick in because of on-and-off magic use while trying to hide her abilities.

Magical creatures, on the other hand, age slower naturally. Trolls seem to have much-extended lifespans, but they do age. Vendel appeared younger in the 1100′s because of this, and considerably older in Trollhunters, a natural process of aging(and maybe all the stress of leading a town of trolls for over a thousand years.) Now, wouldn’t Gunmar and Bular have aged as well? Bular, I would say, absolutely should look a bit older, along with Blinky and Aarrrghh and Draal and anyone else who showed up then. I’m willing to let that slide on account of not wanting to redo character models that significantly. Gunmar was sucked into the Darklands, which I can excuse as having an altered way of interacting with time. HOWEVER, trolls do age that much slower, and maybe it’s possible the Vendel we see in the 12th century is simply already old. Charlemange is at least a thousand years old I would say, probably older. Who knows how dragon aging works, especially in regards to shapeshifting ones. I would presume that their interaction with magic, as with mages, would leave them unaging and therefore their form never shows indication of age.

So what about mental health? Well, trolls already live ‘slower’ lives, less eventful on a day to day basis, takes them longer to mature, things just aren’t as quick as in a human life. I’d say most trolls would be decently well off, besides the lingering affects of living through various disasters, wars, and other traumatizing events. The amount of stress that a troll like Vendel goes through probably has a bit of an exacting toll. I don’t blame him for getting irritable.

But a human immortal would not be able to live in a slowly moving society like the trolls do. As far as we know, very little has changed for the actual process of Trollish society. Human society advances quickly, as we know. Not only that, but a human immortal would be basically alone in regards to all of this.

Let’s start with Merlin. Grumpy, irritable, easily annoyed or frustrated, and constantly busy or stressed. And he is old. When would Merlin have started magic? Or was he on and off with magic in his life? Did he grow up at the same time as Arthur? I think? I don’t know but it would be neat to find out a little about his history. Merlin also seems to cling to the few immortal friends he has, between Morgana, Arthur, and then Galahead. And he has really no patience to put up with a maturing apprentice. Also, how many apprentices has he had? Both he and Morgana would indicate there being multiple. What happened with them, and where are they now? What has Douxie heard about their ends, because so far, up until him, it wasn’t good things.

Morgana is a case where I think her immortality never comes much into play, but it does make me wonder how she got to be Merlin’s apprentice (again, would be neat to hear about). I’d really love to know more about the whole Camelot history but I’m guessing some of that was cut, seeing as how we get little tidbits but nothing so substantial as, say, Merlin’s history prior to Douxie.

Now onto Douxie, who was really the main part of this post originally. Where do I even begin? Poor guy absolutely has a whole host of issues as I’ve discussed in my fics, but I’m really guessing over the years he’s formed a few, namely a distinct rejection sensitivity, probably some abandonment issues, and I’d have to say depression and anxiety as I’ve already talked about. Think about how much happens in one human lifetime. There’s tons of things that would be depressing as all hell, not to mention that if he ever makes mortal friends, he has to be very aware that they are going to die well before he ever will. Wars, natural disasters, crises, and so on and so forth. Merlin gave the boy increased anxiety and an unhealthy amount of stress, and then left moppet!Douxie with a list of things to do while he waits for his master to come back. And ultimately, Merlin acts like he forgot his apprentice even existed. That could have only destroyed him on the inside, and especially to lose Merlin just about the same day he finally got him back. I could talk for days about what the world has probably done to Douxie, but instead I’ll leave that up to my fics to elaborate on.

We don’t know much about Zoe, besides things here and there and that she’s known Douxie and Archie for a while. I’d have to guess she spent a lot of time with Doux and Arch over the years just traveling along with them. But I’d imagine that sometimes they split up, things changed, etc etc and they always found their way back to each other again. I haven’t really delved into what her mental stuff looks like, but not to fear, because it is certainly coming(in fic form). But much like Douxie, she probably also went through an assortment of traumatic events. Humans do not do well on their lonesome, so I can imagine that she probably chose to stick with other magic users for the most part to protect her emotions. I’m not confident Douxie could really bring himself to do that, however, seeing as he cares so deeply for other beings.

Conclusion? The only reason Douxie and Zoe made it through nearly a thousand years of crazy human bullsh*t with very little mental health support for the majority of the time is that they had each other and Archie.