#I am so sorry to anyone who followed me for anything

[ninetailedfoxmanchi]

BTS! Mafia - They Are the Rival Boss Who Likes You (pt. 1)

Request: they rescue you from your abusive boyfriend who is the boss of the rival gang (This request came in over a year ago by anon but thank you so much, I love this idea - it kept me up at night - and I am so sorry it took me so long to write it!)

A/N: I had no one specific in mind when I wrote Kang; the name was chosen solely for the purpose of not having to write B/N all the time. This will get a pt. 2 or it may become even a tiny mini-series, so any ideas for the continuation are welcome!

Warnings: mentions of abuse and violence

MASTERLIST

Backstory:

You have been dating Kang for more than two years and in the beginning, he was perfect. He was sweet and a gentleman but the longer you stayed together, the more you began to see the other side of him. Kang was always angry or upset, always finding something he disliked about you. He grew more jealous and insecure by the day, even having his men follow you secretly sometimes. It escalated to the point where Kang would raise his voice and threaten you regularly. It happened only moments before you had to attend a benefit with your boyfriend. You had an argument where you tried to make Kang see reason about ending your relationship, but he took your arm and pulled you to him, his eyes blind with insecurity. "You are not leaving me," Kang growled against your face as he held your arm tight enough to break it with a single move. "Ever."

* * *

Jin

You accepted a glass of champagne from one of the waiters, finding your reflection in one of the decorative mirrors. The black evening gown with long sleeves that hid your bruise you wore was stunning yet you felt anything but. These past few months took a toll on both your mental as well as physical health but you could not see a way out.

You found Kang's reflection behind yours, his back turned to you as he laughed with some of his wealthy benefactors.

"You look beautiful," said someone out of the sudden. You turned around coming face to face with none other than Kim Seokjin. Your eyes widened in surprise. You knew him - you remembered him because you spoke at the last benefit. When Kang learned of it however, he threatened that you should never to speak to him again or there would be consequences. Jin was Kang's biggest rival.

The sweet smile on Kim's lips disappeared slowly when you did not say anything. You were taken aback by the warmth of his presence and the kindness of his smile after the evening you have had.

"Thank you," you managed at last, your fingers cold with sweat as you glanced over in your boyfriend's direction. The shadow of his frame stepped out on the terrace for a cigar with his colleagues and you breathed more easily.

You had not noticed but Kim's gaze followed yours out on the terrace before you looked back into his dark eyes. Your body trembled. You are never leaving me. Ever.

"Are you alri—"

"Help me."

The two of you spoke at the same time, your voice hushed as you began to feel tears creep into your eyes. Your gaze was locked with Kim's. You saw the way he looked at you at the last benefit, how his eyes lingered on you even when you were in the company of your boyfriend. He stayed at the events all the while you stayed although all of his friends have already left only so that the three of you could wait for your cars together. Kim did not say anything but it could not have been a coincidence.

You looked away, blinking back the tears. You found yourself embarrassed - what did you think would happen; he would help you out of the goodness of his heart and risk a falling out between the companies?

"I'm sorry," you shook your head and offered Jin a small smile, in disbelief with yourself of how silly you were.

You placed down your champagne and made to get some air.

"Meet me at the fountain in five minutes," spoke Jin discretely as he passed you by, giving no indication to anyone who could be watching that he said anything at all.

You froze, your gaze locked on his back as he walked away, your heart in your throat. The heat of adrenaline flushed through your body when you looked around the venue of merry guests. You took a fresh glass of champagne before your eyes met your boyfriend's across the dance floor. He rose his glass of scotch to you only slightly, a smile on his lips although his eyes were cold and insecure. You mimicked the gesture and smiled as best you could before greeting one of the wives of the benefactors. You soon excused yourself and walked outside, placing the untouched glass of champagne on the stone fence. You glanced behind you but there wasn't a soul.

You walked down to the fountain holding up the skirt of your dress. The heels nearly made you trip, not because you struggled to walk in them but because your entire body trembled with fear and adrenaline.

"Come," you heard Kim's voice out of nowhere. He was suddenly beside you, his large hand barely brushing against your back as he led you to a car that has been waiting. You sat in without hesitation after Kim held the door for you and he took the driver's seat. You did not ask where he was taking you, but anywhere would be better than returning home with Kang. You did not want to imagine what that would be like.

You followed Jin into the elevator that took you to the top of a large skyscraper. There was security on every corner on the way up, making you uneasy. They seemed like the kind of men that Kang would order to follow you.

"Are these your men?" you asked when the two of you reached a pair of doors. Two men stood opposite it, clad in all black with a bulletproof vest and some sort of firearm in their hands.

Jin glanced at the men, following your gaze. "They are," he confirmed and typed in the security code for the door. "They are loyal men," he added as if he could hear your thoughts.

You nodded as Kim let you inside of his apartment. It was vast and minimalist with a warm shade of white predominating, making the rooms bright and inviting although it had began to rain outside.

You took off your heels, now standing much shorter next to Kim. The reality of it all hit you like a brick.

"What will happen now?" you asked, looking up at Jin. You thought of Kang, of their business and the rivalry, how this would be seen as a betrayal of the already fragile peace ...

"Nothing," said Jin lightly as if what happened from now on was not your problem to solve.

Kim took off the jacket of his tuxedo and placed it neatly over one of the kitchen chairs.

"Are you hungry?"

Namjoon

The benefit was held at a beautiful country manor but you could not care for the rose bushes or the crystal chandeliers. You had snuck out to escape your boyfriend and his band of colleagues. Kang often teased you and spoke badly about you in front of his friends, then tried to convince you how it was all in your head, the way he treated you. You could not stand another evening like that, not after everything that had already happened before you even came to the benefit.

You ran your fingers across your elbow absent-mindedly as you leaned against the stone fence of the staircase that led to the manor. For a long time, there wasn't a soul until you head the click of a lighter and the inhale of smoke. You turned around, recognizing a familiar dark figure near the side entrance. The man inhaled, the tip of the cigarette lighting up as he stepped out of the shadows. It was Kim Namjoon. You heard of him long before you met him yourself at one of these sort of events. He was the leader of Kang's rival company and the man your boyfriend despised most in the world.

You looked away quickly, pretending to look at the moonlit gardens of the country manor. You had spoken once or twice to Mr Kim yourself. He was nothing short of a gentleman but you thought Kang was a gentleman too at first.

"Not enjoying yourself?" asked Mr Kim as he came over to you. The smoke of his cigarette followed him, mingled with the scent of his perfume. Your stomach was already in knots from your argument with Kang; you could not even imagine what he would do to you if he found out you had spoken to Kim again.

"What is there to enjoy?" you whispered to yourself, looking down at the stone fence. Kim's gaze studied you, you could feel it burning into your body. He smiled at first - he hated these kinds of events too. They were dull and nothing but false pretenses but they were a part of the job. And yet the smile drained from his eyes.

"Do you need some help?" asked Kim darkly, his question surprising you. You looked up into his eyes as they shifted between your arm and your gaze. You wore a beautiful one-sleeved dress that hugged your body only that the sleeve was on the wrong arm.

In an instant your eyes filled with tears although you had not as much as missed to smile once all evening. You looked away embarrassed.

"What could you possibly do?" you asked not unkindly, your voice cracking with hopelessness.

Kim took one last drag from his cigarette and flicked it over the fence. He took your palm as he exhaled, leading you to the parking lot with him. Kim only needed to raise his hand toward the valet and they brought over his car.

"Get in," said Kim gently as he quickly opened the door for you. You stared at him astounded before you got in, glancing over your shoulder if your boyfriend or one of his men noticed you leaving. There was nothing there but the sound of laughter echoing from inside the manor.

"It's safe here," said Kim when the two of you walked across the lobby of an apartment building. There were guards everywhere holding heavy weapons.

"What is this place?" you asked warily as the elevator door opened to introduce another smaller hall with a pair of doors protected with a safety code.

"It's my apartment," said Kim, typing in the code and opening the door for you. You hesitated, your gaze freezing on Namjoon. He of all people knew what this would mean for him, for his business. He turned to you when you did not follow him inside.

"Are you sure?" you asked. Kim could have just dropped you off at a train station and be rid of you - why take you to his apartment and exposing himself?

"I'm sure," said Namjoon, not a hint of a doubt in his dark eyes.

Yoongi

Kang's hand rested tightly on your waist as you were forced to entertain his benefactors and their wives. Benefits like this were far from uncommon, a charitable cause more often than not serving as a cover for the dealings that really went on.

Simply holding a glass of champagne and keeping your arm tense made the pain in your elbow worsen. You wore a black couture gown with beautiful puffy sleeves of white silk that covered the dark bruise in the shape of Kang's fingerprints.

You tried to smile politely and keep your calm but every once in a while your brows would fall and hopelessness would creep into your eyes. You looked around the luxurious venue, seeing many familiar faces, most of them Kang's colleagues. As your gaze began to drift back to your interlocutors, it returned to familiar dark eyes. You knew those eyes. They belonged to Min Yoongi. You met him some months ago when he attended one of these events for the first time in a while but never missed one since. After Kang learned that you talked, he threatened to break every bone in your body if you did so again. Min was one of is greatest rivals.

You looked down at your champagne. The drink was only getting warm in your hands as you were not in the mood to drink or anything else for that matter. You did not know what it was but seeing Min and the way that his dark eyes found you in that crowd was the last straw. Tears pushed into your eyes and threatened to fall.

You excused yourself to use the ladies' room, Kang's hand reluctantly letting go of your waist. You wanted to keep your gaze on the floor but as you passed by Min your eyes locked with his. The scent of his fragrance lingered on you after you walked past him. You made for the ladies room, your eyes watering with hot tears and making you walk even faster before anyone could see you cry. But a hand caught your wrist as you passed by the open terrace, pulling you out into the fresh air.

A soft gasp escaped your lips when you looked up, coming face to face with Min Yoongi.

"What are you doing?" you asked quickly as you shook your head.

"Why are you crying?" asked Min, the smile fading from his eyes.

"What?" You had not even noticed that the tears had slipped down your cheeks.

"Why are you crying?" repeated Min, his voice growing darker but his hands cupped your cheeks and his thumbs brushed away the tears.

"I'm not," you insisted although your chin quivered and your eyes watered once more. You looked down embarrassed, then glanced over your shoulder quickly if your boyfriend had come to look for you already.

"I have to go," you whispered and slipped from his arms. Yoongi caught your elbow, not ready to let you go without an answer. His eyes widened when you whimpered and pulled your arm from his gentle grasp. He had barely touched you. That is when his sharp black eyes noticed the hint of a dark bruise beneath the puffy white sleeve of your dress.

"I'm sorry," you shook your head, "I really have to go." Your voice was but a whisper as your chin quivered yet again with the threat of tears.

"I'm glad we agree," said Yoongi somberly, his fingers locking with yours. He led you across the garden to the parking lot where the valet brought his car.

"What are you doing?" you asked as Yoongi held the door of his car for you. He froze at the sight of your eyes full of tears looking up at him. His hand reached for your face once again, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped your eye.

"Taking you away from someone who doesn't deserve you."

Hoseok

You wore a pale pink satin dress that your boyfriend picked out for the benefit. Although the dress looked stunning on you, if you could have chosen for yourself, the gown would have been black to reflect your spirits. Kang had your hand wrapped around his elbow when you arrived but was soon distracted by other women and his colleagues, leaving you alone. In truth, you preferred it that way. You could not stop thinking about what it will be like when you return home after the benefit. Your elbow was sore enough that it was a struggle even to fix the hem of your dress or simply hold a champagne glass.

You slipped away into the garden and found a lonesome bench where you sat down. You downed the glass of champagne but it did nothing to dull your pain, particularly not that which you felt in your heart. A thousand thoughts ran through your mind; how your relationship began and how sweet Kang was at first. But once you realized his true self it was already too late.

"Hello," greeted a gentle voice, nonetheless it made you wince. You looked up, recognizing the man in front of you.

"I apologize," said Jung Hoseok, "I didn't mean to scare you." He sat down on the bench beside you unobtrusively.

"It's alright," you said more to yourself than to him. You could not hide the sadness on your face and you did not try to. You were just so tired.

"I haven't seen you in a while," you said to Mr Jung, trying to distract yourself from all the horrible things on your mind.

You had spoken once or twice at these sort of things and when you did not have a chance to, you at least greeted each other with your eyes although you often felt Jung's on you long after you had already focused on the people talking to you. You would never disclose to Kang though that you had spoken to Jung Hoseok. You often heard Kang talk about Hoseok with despise as they were rivals. At first you thought Mr Jung's interest in you was on the account of your boyfriend but he never brought up business or even Kang for that matter when he spoke to you.

"I was busy," said Jung with a small smile. His warm gaze cooled when he saw the look in your eyes.

"Are you alright?" he asked, studying your expression. You savored what little warmth remained in his gaze a moment longer, not even recalling when was the last time someone asked you that.

You nodded and offered him a reassuring smile although tears forced into your eyes. You tried to blink them away but when you couldn't you turned away, focusing on the garden in the distance.

"Tell me," asked Jung but you shook your head, swallowing back the tears that lingered in your throat.

"I can't," you whispered and did the mistake of looking Hoseok in the eye. He saw the tears that stung your cheeks. His brows fell heavy onto his eyes, his lips in a firm line.

"Just say the word, Y/N," said Hoseok. You looked at him astounded. He could not have known what has been going on and yet he did.

"Please," you whispered and it was enough. Jung's fingers locked with yours as he took you away from the benefit and your boyfriend.

Jimin

As Kang drove to the benefit he sped all the way because he knew it scared you when he did so. You did not say anything, you did not plead because it would only encourage him. Your eyes often filled with tears but you would not let them fall.

You fixed your fitted black gown with puffy see-through sleeves as you exited the car, the valet holding the door open for you. You held a small purse in one hand, Kang's fingers locking with those of your other palm. His grip was so tight you thought he meant to crush your bones.

As you walked up the elegant staircase of the country manor, you saw your boyfriend's greatest rival leaning against the marble fence whilst he spoke to one of his closest colleagues. Yet as you climbed the staircase, Park Jimin's gaze tore from his friend and fixed on you. His lips parted slightly as he took in the elegance that radiated off of you. You had spoken one time at a similar event and ran into him when you were shopping alone once. He was always nothing but a gentleman to you and yet so was Kang when you first met him. There was something different about Park though - a warmth in his eyes that you never saw in Kang.

You dared not look in Park Jimin's direction for more than a moment, already dreading going home with Kang later without him thinking you were fraternizing with his enemy.

Once inside, Kang went to get the two of you champagne. You flexed your numb fingers, a redness forming around your palm where his squeeze was tightest. You glanced around the venue, finding Mr Park's eyes already on you. His gaze shifted from your palm to your face when he saw your eyes turned to him. A frown framed his dark gaze before you looked away, accepting the glass of champagne from your boyfriend. His arm went to your waist and made you wince almost unnoticeably as you feared his hand might travel even lower. The last thing you wanted in that moment was for anyone to touch you but you had no choice. You stood by Kang's side, thinking of ways to convince him that your relationship was doomed, but his words kept surfacing in your memory. You are never leaving me. Ever.

You excused yourself to visit the ladies' room - the only place you could go without Kang's gaze torturing you. You walked across the venue, placing your empty champagne glass on one of the empty trays on the way. As you turned the corner to the ladies' room, you nearly bumped into someone. You stumbled back but a pair of hands secured you. You gasped as one of those hands wrapped around your sore elbow, quickly pulling away as your own hand went to the injured joint. Everything happened in the passing of a second. When you finally managed to look up you saw none other than Park Jimin in front of you.

Your wide gaze locked with his formidable frown but all words were knocked out of you.

"Excuse me," you managed at last and tried to make your way past Mr Park but his fingers caught your wrist gently. Your eyes met yet again, your own gaze blurred with tears. You barely knew Park and yet you felt as if you had been friends for years. It was as if you could not hide anything from him, nor wanted to for that matter.

"Just say the word Y/N and I will make it all go away," Jimin said to you and you alone as other people passed by.

"What?" you stuttered, staring up into his dark eyes.

"Kang," said Jimin. Your lips parted when you saw that he knew - but how could he have found out?

Your chin quivered at the realization that you were no longer alone, that you were not the only one who knew what Kang was really like. You could not hold back the tears any longer.

"Please, just ..." you began but your voice cracked. It was enough though. Park's fingers locked with yours as he led you through the side entrance down to the parking lot. You sat into his car and he drove away, leaving the benefit and your boyfriend miles behind you.

Taehyung

You managed to escape from your boyfriend's view under the excuse of using the ladies' room, but you desperately needed to get some air. His constant touch on your hand or your waist disgusted you. You could not bear it any longer.

You slipped through the back door that opened into the parking lot for staff and caterers. You leaned against the cool stone wall by the door and closed your eyes. The cold air of the night filled your lungs and cleared your head but also triggered a wave of hot tears to force into your eyes now that you were finally alone. You blinked slowly, pushing them back for the most part. You dabbed what left of them with the knuckle of your index, hoping you had not damaged your make up and made it known that you had been crying.

The back door opened again, a dark figure emerging outside. A cigarette hung from the man's lips as he lit it up and savored a long-awaited drag of smoke. You recognized him - the back of his head, his wide shoulders but what made you sure it was him was the hand he hid in the pocket of his trousers. Kim Taehyung turned around. He could feel someone's gaze burn into his back. He took the cigarette from his mouth when he saw you, his lips parting and his eyes unmoving.

You offered him a small smile but did not trust your voice to hold up. You did not know who Kim was for a long time yet you always managed to speak to one another at these sort of events - that is, until your boyfriend found out. He told you in a rage that you have been flirting with his greatest rival, although Kang's words had only half the truth. You never flirted with Kim; you would never do that you your boyfriend - whoever he was or how bad the relationship might have gotten. But ever since Kang's outburst you did not even dare look in Kim Taehyung's direction, much less speak to him. You were already threading on thin ice with Kang.

You hugged your arms and looked away when Kim did not say anything. He must have forgotten ever even speaking to you, you thought. Kim's eyes lingered on you, however, as he took another drag of smoke from his cigarette before flicking it away absently.

"What's that?" asked Kim, breathing out the smoke as he gestured his hand to your body. Your eyebrows rose as he caught you off guard with his question. You looked down at your sliver satin dress but quickly found what Kim was looking at. You had not even noticed it yourself; you thought it would be at least a day before it showed properly - the bruise around your elbow that Kang gave you before the benefit.

Taehyung stepped closer to you and you would have backed away if you were not already pressed against the wall. Your lips parted as your eyes grew wide and your body tensed. Kim traced his fingers across the knuckles of yours that were hiding most of the bruise. His touch made you move your hand although the warmth of his closeness invited you and scared you at the same time.

"Nothing, I ... I fell," you lied, your voice small.

Standing up close, Taehyung could see the fingerprints stamped around your elbow. His dark frown rose to your eyes. You could not look away even if you wanted to; his gaze grounded you where you stood. Fever rushed to your cheeks when Kim rose his hand to your face. He brushed a stray tear from beneath your eye that you did not even know was there.

You looked away embarrassed. You were never one to feel sorry for yourself or even complain but the last few months have become unbearable. You were just waiting for your boyfriend to snap.

A shaky breath escaped your lungs as tears filled your eyes against your will. Your chin quivered and although you bit on your lip, the tears fell down your cheeks.

"You should come with me," said Kim. You looked up at him, your eyebrows frowning together.

"Where?" you whispered, shaking your head hopelessly.

"Away," said Kim.

Your gaze shifted between Taehyung's dark eyes. He smelled of cigarette smoke and perfume that began to cling on your skin as well.

You licked your dry lips and nodded, your gaze lowering to Kim's shirt.

Taehyung took your hand, his long fingers gently intertwining with yours as he led you to his car.

Jungkook

You stepped out of your boyfriend's car as the pair of you arrived at the benefit, fixing your off-the-sleeve black dress that hugged your figure. The valet closed the door behind you as your boyfriend already made his way up the elegant staircase without you. You looked up, the stairs seeming like Mount Everest to you. You gathered the skirt of your long evening dress and made your way after him.

"What took you so long?" said Kang, waiting for you by the door because he knew his benefactors liked talking to him more when you were on his arm.

Kang took your hand and led you through the venue, saying hello to everyone who had a moment's time. You offered them a smile and masked how you truly felt inside. You wanted to scream for help but you knew that even if you would beg everyone on their knees, no one would dare say a word to Kang.

Whilst your boyfriend talked to his colleagues, your thoughts and your gaze drifted across the venue. You did not know what you were looking for until you found it - a pair of dark eyes that belonged to Jeon Jungkook. He wore a tuxedo befitting to the occasion, a glass of whiskey in his hand. You had spoken here and there at these sort of events until your boyfriend noticed. You had not known it beforehand but Kang was sure to inform you you were talking to his biggest rival.

You tore your eyes away from Mr Jeon quickly, looking up at your boyfriend to see if his attention was on your gaze. He must have just made a joke for everyone in the circle began to laugh but you. Your boyfriend squeezed at your hips in front of everyone, everyone seeming to enjoy his actions as most of them were older men. You looked down at your champagne, feeling the redness in your cheeks. You could not understand why but your gaze instinctively searched for Jeon's in that moment yet he was nowhere to be seen.

Your stomach was still twisted into knots even as Kang joined his buddies for a cigar out on the back terrace.

A shaky breath escaped your lungs as you struggled to keep the tears that threatened into your eyes at bay. You sat down your glass of untouched champagne on one of the counters, needing to get some air. You walked down the front staircase, glancing over your shoulder for Kang but he was still laughing with his colleagues out on the back terrace.

You reached the bottom of the staircase, feeling as if you had just ran a marathon. Your breathing became heavy and your stomach turned as if a swarm of wasps had settled inside of it. You placed a hand over your chest, trying to calm yourself when a presence to your right suddenly made you stop breathing altogether.

A small gasp escaped your lips, your eyes wide as you expected to find your boyfriend beside you. It was not him however, but Jeon Jungkook. He was holding a cigarette between his fingers, a breath of smoke leaving his lips as his unmoving eyes locked on yours. His brows slowly fell into a heavy frown.

"What's wrong?" asked Jeon although he already had his answer. He wanted to hear it from you though.

If this were the first time you had spoken to him, the tone of his dark voice would have frightened you. But in that moment, it felt as if you were speaking to an old friend you had known but not seen in years.

You looked away as you felt the tears gather in your eyes then down at your elbow nestled in your crossed arms. A bruise was beginning to form around it in the shape of Kang's fingerprints.

"Can you help me?" you whispered as you found Jungkook's eyes one more time. He exhaled the cigarette smoke, studying you with his sharp unblinking gaze that seemed to hold warmth only when he was looking at you.

"Come," said Jungkook, flicking his cigarette away and led the way to his car. His hand gently brushed against your middle back to guide you but you took a step back instinctively, your wide eyes finding his. Jeon's lips parted slightly at the sight of your reaction. He did not say anything but only opened the door open for you, not attempting to touch you again however platonically intended.

You glanced over your shoulder one last time at the venue, somehow expecting one of Kang's men to be on your trail but they must all have been too busy smoking and drinking.

You got inside Jeon's car.

[3fling]

.

[spotlightstudios]

We dont talk much but I think you're rad as hell and I hope you still think I'm cool even though I've been quiet

Hello?? Anon???? 🥺 I'm staring at you w/ my big ol' eyes rn. I'm not gonna lie that I have no clue who you might be, but I can promise that there a 99.99% chance I think you're cool af, okay? I need you to know that. Holding u gentl in my hands rn 🙏

[ladyminaofcamelot]

Okay, here is my detailed analysis of the symbolism in Michael J. Sullivan’s, “Disappearance of Winter’s Daughter” that no one asked for, because here’s the thing. This book is chalk full of symbolism, mainly concerning unicorns, polka dots, stray dogs, cats, and one very special knife, all of which point toward hope, and more specifically the hope that Royce and Hadrian have because of each other.

So, unicorns represent hope. This is established both in the initial conversation about them and when Royce puts unicorns, Hadrian, and Alverstone in the same category, with Alverstone having been explicitly stated to be hope earlier in the book. Royce and Hadrian both call each other unicorns over the course of the story, so they are quite literally each other’s hope. 

Hadrian presents an anomaly to the worldview Royce previously held where everyone looks out for themselves and those who don’t look out for themselves wind up dead, because Hadrian is good and honorable and somehow very much not dead. To Royce, good and evil in the cosmic sense are random, and survival is a perfectly reasonable justification for doing evil to others. In the moment that Royce compares Hadrian to a unicorn, it is because he feels he has been sabotaged by Hadrian’s ideas and worldview in his own actions all night, and is aggravated because they are working. But the thing is, just because he believes the world is cruel and that survival is the goal, doesn’t mean he actually thinks that’s a good world to live in, and Hadrian has shown him that maybe, just maybe, there is a world out there where justice exists, and even if he doesn’t fully believe it, that it could exist gives some meaning to life.

When Hadrian calls Royce a unicorn, Royce is quite literally his only hope for survival, but I think it’s also deeper than that, because of cats. Royce is compared to a cat quite often, and in this book there is an expanded metaphor to a cat when he is about to kill someone, who he notably doesn’t kill in part because of Hadrian running interference. Later, Hadrian thinks that, “cats were picky, untrusting things. Being fragile, they had to be. Whenever a cat sat on him, Hadrian felt special, as if the animal approved, and their acceptance was some sort of gift. Makes a body feel worthy of something to have a cat trust you that much.” And also, “Cats don’t sleep on monsters, do they?” From another conversation they have about his time in Callis, we know that Hadrian actually thinks of himself as a worse murderer than Royce, who he himself has called a monster. Royce may think he’s too saintly for his own good, but Hadrian doesn’t think of himself that way, which is why Royce is the cat on his lap and therefore his unicorn. Royce doesn’t trust anyone, but he trusts Hadrian, so Hadrian is able to believe, or hope, that maybe, just maybe, he could be more than a monster.

This all comes back to the polka dots. Because Hadrian is kind to Royce, or “wears polka dots,” as it were, Royce thinks he is a kind person (though he usually uses the word stupid), and places trust in him, which also results in his being kind (in the big picture sense) to Hadrian because he doesn’t want to lose the one person he can trust. This unintentionally promotes Hadrian’s world view that kindness is mirrored back, and that how you treat others changes how you yourself are treated. So not only are they each other’s hope, but together, between the two of them and a few select others (such as Gwen), they are creating a world where unicorns exist.

This plays well into the idea of the stray dog. They see a couple strays throughout the book, who are compared to Royce and used to emphasize his world view. After all, a stray dog is kicked to the curb and fights for scraps and if it died no one would care, but every time they see a stray, they realize that it is wearing a blue collar, so it is not actually a stray. The fact that the collar is blue, the color of purity (which unicorns are also a symbol of), helps to indicate that the dog belongs to another world, a different, more magical world where it is loved. Royce, whether he realizes or not, also belongs to this world by virtue of being loved by Hadrian and Gwen. It is not insignificant that Gwen is painting the House blue at the beginning of the book, when that is their home base, nor insignificant that she is wearing a blue dress, since to Royce, she is the most pure thing he can imagine. 

Which makes me realize that I need another paragraph for Gwen, because she’s part of this too. Even if she is never called a unicorn, we have seen in previous books how she trusts Royce, and believes in Riyria, but also that she does not always think well of herself. The world has beaten her much in the same way it has beaten Hadrian, and though she suffered as the victim rather than the perpetrator, she still struggles with some of the same ideas of self worth. She thinks of herself as a prostitute, as someone no man has ever thought himself unworthy of, yet Royce thinks of her as someone you can’t just kiss, and calls Hadrian insane for even making the suggestion. His respect for her gives her hope, that maybe, just maybe, she really is more than a prostitute, and she in her turn believes in him, becoming another anomaly in his grim worldview just like Hadrian is.

Because Royce trusts Hadrian, and because Hadrian trusts him, and because they both trust Gwen and she them, they are all able to create their own little world where unicorns do exist, where there is hope, because they are able to afford it with someone who loves them. None of them are strays or monsters in the eyes of the others, they are all unicorns, and because someone else believes in them, they are able to have hope for themselves.

[medicinemane]

I don't know... horrible things happen all around the world and it's not a competition

Atrocities are committed against multiple groups in multiple parts of the world at the exact same moment, and none of them erase each other. They all matter, all the people in this world who are being brutalized matter. There shouldn't be any line you draw where one group doesn't actually matter as much as another

You're welcome to prioritize your energy towards helping one group or another, but what's not ok is invalidating or dismissing people who are actively being harmed

Same goes for trying to figure out which social group has things worst (and lets be honest, always using a US lens)

Like... maybe the important thing is to prop each other up and help everyone get on their own feet rather than trying to... pick fights about if physical disabilities or mental illness are less respected (I'm trying to pick a more absurd example but sadly I've seen exactly that argument happen before). Maybe it doesn't really matter and what matters is helping who we can when we can

I'm tired of it, I'm just fucking tired of it. Support people, champion them when the world is just brutalizing them, but you don't need to throw a single other person under the bus to do that

Which seems to be an absolutely impossible lesson for people to learn

[theo4eve]

How. To. Write.

[oriolaaahh]

smoke signals ch.5 (preview)

Hey, hey, I am so deeply sorry that life keeps hitting me from behind with steel chairs and is keeping me all from you and while I have been working more on the next chapter (and it's in the home stretch!) i just want to make sure it isn't rushed. as much as I want to deliver for you all again, I want to make sure it is the quality you deserve and true to the story I want to tell. As such, I have decided to give you all a little glimpse into the monster that is the next chapter. I've selected three scenes that should give you just enough to think about until I can make it back to you fully. Please thank @autisticwho for this gift, and a million thank yous @autisticwho for the direct support, your DMs are forever my greatest encouragement.

Also, also, if the person who left me two monster (beautiful!) comments on ao3 is here, DM me I am so sorry for what I've done to you it was evil back then and it is still evil now SORRY if any of you know them please send them my way I need to pay for my crimes!

Sleep comes easier to her with him around.

She's comforted by the crinkle of the biscuit package in the middle of the night, even if she dreads the crumbs she'll inevitably shake out in the morning, or the light clinking of ceramics as he makes their nightly cuppa. It's become a bit of a ritual now. The nights when they're on the same page, the nights where she catches him yawning out of the corner of her eye, the words on the pages of her textbook blurring. The one night he had drifted off, briefly, before his head snapped up. She can still remember the way he rubbed at bleary eyes, and while she was hoping to get another chapter in, she needed to put him first. 

She wants to say that while he's boiling the water she's pulling back the covers of a perfectly made bed, fluffing perfectly placed pillows. But that's not them. Only on wash days was the bed perfectly made. She would take the sheets and duvet and shake them out from the morning, letting them settle flat against the mattress. When the pillows weren't haphazardly on the mattress, they were strewn around her room. A new place every night.

He'd come in with two steaming mugs, bearing the heat of the ceramic against his skin. She'd take her mug carefully with a quiet thanks, John’s mug with the mountains, and set it on the bedside table. The blue of the mug reminding her of the blue she used to call home. She’d go about the rest of her night, teeth brushing and face washing and snuggled in a pair of pyjamas, and the mug would always go untouched. It was a bit of a ridiculous superstition. She didn't know if James noticed, or even cared that all that effort went wasted. 

But to Rose it wasn't wasted. It was still part of that nightly routine, to leave the mug out. It became hers when she sought to protect his memory; it was his from the start. It's her invitation to him. She can't fathom to think of him somewhere other than here where he feels he's not welcome in his own flat. 

That, and the fact that he’s visiting more often. She'd know those blue eyes anywhere. 

The dreams aren't of the hospital, haven't been for some time for Rose. She was seemingly free from that hell.

Instead, it was John in the every day. It was the future of her dreams. The one where they finished furnishing the flat, where she laughed as he held his head in his hands, surrounded by panels and screws after he swore he didn’t need the instructions. Her memories bleed in as she dreamt of his puzzled questions as she applied eyeliner to her water line. 

She dreamt of the two of them in the kitchen. She was slumped at the table, surrounded by her books and work. She couldn’t understand why she was trying to study in the morning. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes; she hadn’t even washed her face. 

John was whistling quietly to himself, his back to her, stirring something in a pan on the stove. It sizzled and she was overcome with a sense of warmth, the smell of a fry-up. She stared at his broad shoulders, wondering if he was on shift today. Or was it that he’d just gotten home? The details were fuzzy. She went to call his name; she wanted to see his face. 

With a quiet gasp, she woke up.

//

The night after her second last shift of the week, she stood at the counter, changed into sweats, crunching on a wilted salad, watching Cat play with a feathered toy, her paws outstretched in the air, James on speaker phone. She didn’t know why she called, why texts couldn’t suffice. The sound of the ambulance siren wouldn’t leave her head, and she needed something that wasn’t the news, wasn’t a reminder of her twelve hour shift or the pale, dirt-smeared faces of the bodies pulled from the rubble. She didn’t know how it started, or what got them on this track, but James was rambling about the chemistry of stain removal, even though she knew he had no interest in doing his own laundry. She bit her cheek in an effort to keep from laughing at his unnecessarily passionate opinions about the benefits of different water temperatures. 

“Have I bored you to tears yet?” he asked, finally pausing for breath. 

She set her bowl in the sink, letting the spoon clatter against the rim. “Just about,” she said, rummaging through the cupboards for James’ old packet of biscuits. She swore he had one with a chocolate coating. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been over,” he said quietly, intimately. 

“What good would it be when I’m working the whole time?” she asked. “Ah-ha!” she said to herself, reaching to the packet of biscuits. 

James paused on the other end of the line. “Are you eating my biscuits?”

Her mouth full with a bite of the biscuit, she replied, “Of course not.”

“Now I really have a reason to get back.”

She hated to think how he was waiting to get back to her. 

She had to keep things light between them. She needed him to be furious with her. She couldn’t do . . . whatever it was blooming between them. It was always so much easier when he was with her, when she could touch him and tease him and have her hands do all the talking. Words always got them into trouble. Words always took them further than they ever intended. 

“Well, you see,” she said, finishing off the first biscuit, and wiping her hands on her trouser leg. “I had a cup of milk to finish.”

“Uh-huh,” James said, disbelieving. 

“I did!” Rose exclaimed, opening up a cupboard door and reaching on her tip-toes to grab a glass. “And milk on its own is just . . . sad.”

She opened the fridge and pulled out the carton of milk. She caught a glimpse of the expiry date, and frowned. She opened it, and hesitantly sniffed. It only left her more confused. Surely if it was bad, she would know?

“I can hear you opening the fridge back there!”

She poured half a glass, and sniffed the milk in the glass. It really didn’t smell like anything except milk, she convinced herself. “What?” she said to James. “All I hear is you talking.”

“Oh, very clever,” he replied sarcastically. 

“Ta,” she said, putting the milk back in the fridge. She grabbed another biscuit and dunked it in the milk. 

“You owe me,” he said, feigning the threat. 

Swallowing another bite, Rose replied teasingly, “Your room is still on hold at Chaise Tyler, Mr. McCrimmon.”

Checkmate.

“Okay,” James conceded. 

Rose only laughed, shoving the biscuits back in the cupboard before finishing her milk. 

“Alright, fine,” James whinged. “Got me. I can be there tomorrow, if you want.”

She hummed, “Maybe not then.”

“What? Why not?”

Leaving the dishes for later, pretending that she’ll do them later, Rose instead chose to relax on the sofa. “I’m going to see Mum day after.”

“So, you’ve seen your mother plenty of times after we-”

“No, that’s not it,” she said. “I’ll come home tomorrow, exhausted, I’ll go straight to bed and I’ll be gone before we even have a chance to do anything.”

“Five minutes,” he bargained. 

“Not worth it,” she said. “I’ve been on my feet all week, I should be pampered, not rushed about.”

“Quite right,” he said. “So when should I, then? At least to keep the creature fed.”

“My cat is not starving!” 

James sighed dramatically. “You know, I’ve never told you this Rose. But the creature-”

“Cat,” she corrected. 

He sighed again. “Cat and I, there have been some long nights . . .”

“I’m sure,” she said, her voice a sweet caress. 

“She tells me things, your cat.”

“Uh-huh,” Rose said, waiting. 

“She tells me, ‘Oh, how I wish Rose would feed me, oh, how lonely am I?’”

“And that’s a direct quote?”

“Oh, yes,” James said.

“Because you speak cat?”

“Of course I do!” he exclaimed. “Otherwise how would I know what she’s saying?” 

“Or,” Rose pondered, “secondary option . . .”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a loon.”

She’d never forget the way her heart lit up as he laughed. She didn’t think it was a particularly good jab, or that her dry delivery was anything special. If anything, it gave her a little window into the light James had gone all week without. That maybe he had really missed her, and that he did not merely tolerate the phone call, but enjoyed it himself.

//

At some point she must have fallen asleep that night, because she dreamed of the argument she and John had after Fred’s party. His back was still to her, and it was only her arguing in the flat. Her hand burned from the memory of the water from the kettle splashing on her skin. 

She woke up with a start, greeted by John’s mug that had become hers, steam slowly rising from it. 

The thought of that day alone made her stomach turn again. It was a mercy she had nothing to throw up. 

She laid in bed, Cat popping her head in through the door left ajar and joining Rose on the bed. Rose cuddled with her, choosing to rest rather than track down James or move to the front room or anything to pass the time. She just wanted to disappear. 

Eventually she heard the front door to the flat open, and she frowned. She thought James was in the flat. 

She didn’t see him until much later when he stepped into the bedroom, a bag rustling in his hand. 

“Hi,” she said quietly, Cat sleeping on her shoulder. 

He tilted his head slightly, looking her over. “Not much better?”

She shook her head. “Where were you?”

He held up the bag in his hand. “Shopping,” he said. He walked softly into the room, and sat at the edge of the bed. He pulled a box from the bag and handed it to her.  

“You heard me earlier?” she asked, holding the box of soda crackers close. 

“Didn’t sound like much,” he said. She nodded in confirmation. He pulled out an electrolyte drink from the bag as well. “Try some of this, too.”

“Ta,” she said, leaning back into the pillows. “And don’t say I told you so.”

“Think it’s just a bug?” he asked. “Or food poisoning?”

She shrugged, forcing herself to keep her face impassive. “Dunno,” she said, unable to meet his eyes. “Maybe.”

“Couldn’t be something from here if it was food poisoning,” he muttered to himself, “we’ve had the same things, an’ I’m healthy as a horse. You didn't go out for lunch this week, did you?”

The mention of lunch made Rose turn her head into the pillow. She bit her cheek.

“Sorry,” he said under his breath. His gaze drifted to her hair, and he fought back a smile. He reached a hand up and pushed it out of her face. 

“I know I’m a disaster,” she said, reaching up to push her own hair back. Her hand brushed over top of his before he withdrew. “What I get for going to bed with wet hair.”

“Oh, I like it,” James said. “Einstein was due for a revival.”

She laughed, “Compared to you?”

He sat back, his shoulder straight. “There is nothing wrong with my hair.”

“A mop is what it is,” she teased. “You don’t even comb it!”

“I style it,” he said, running his fingers through the strands sticking up. “It’s an art, you know. No two pieces stick up the same way. It’s unique every time.”

“Bed head is incredible that way,” she said, her fingers tangling in the ends of her own hair. “Could you hand me a hair tie from over there?” she pointed to the dresser. 

James turned his head to where she was pointing, and quickly got up to bring over three hair ties. 

“I said one!” she complained. 

“Extras,” he said, watching her. She took one from his outspread palm.

She collected her hair and divided it in two. It startled Cat from her sleep, and she jumped from the bed to the floor. Rose took the first section of her hair and began plaiting along her head. 

James frowned. “How do you do that?”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “What?” 

“That,” he said, pointing, the extra hair ties secure in his hand. 

“A plait?” 

He crawled on top of the covers, studying the way her hands moved, following the plait down her head and around her shoulder.

She finished the first plait, and secured it with the hair tie. “See?” she said. She reached out her hand, “Next hair tie, please.”

He handed her a second hair tie, and brought the final one around his wrist. Again, he watched her start the plait at the top of her head and incorporate more hair with each twist. “Brilliant,” he said with a smile. 

“You’ve never seen a girl plait her hair before?” she asked. 

“I know what a plait is!” he said. “I didn’t know this is how you make them.”

“This is just one kind,” she told him. “There are other kinds.”

“Really?” he asked, moving to sit at the opposite end of the bed, taking her in. 

She hated him for looking at her like that. 

“I’ll show you another time,” she said, securing her other hair tie. She ran her hands under the plaits to rest them over

top her shoulders. “These ones are messy. Some people get a really tight plait. They look nice, but they make my head hurt.”

“You make it look so easy,” he said.

She scoffed, “Probably because I don’t care.” She flopped back on the pillows, turning on her side and hugging her pillow close. “The girls at school used to stick their noses up at a loose plait.” She wrinkled her nose.

“As if a pristine plait makes the world go round,” he said sarcastically.

“Their world maybe,” she replied, the laugh stuck on her tongue. 

James spent the rest of the night full of energy while Rose lounged. He was in and out of her bedroom, scrambling together something for supper, making tea, searching through the books on John’s bookshelf. She didn’t know why he kept cycling through the same stories, not when he could bring books from home.

[mintleafkitty72]

Omigosh you are so kind. I was not expecting to check my notifications and see the nicest reblogs ever hhgshgsgfg. You are a wonderful person and I am so glad I somehow managed to meet you on here.

Aww, thank you!! 🥹 have you met yourself tho?? You are literally so nice and friendly, I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me and helped me with (especially with socializing lmao, but we don't talk about that 😅). Everyone who knows you is very lucky.

I genuinely really appreciate you and am so so so SO HAPPY that I was able to meet you on here as well!! 😁😁

Also, I was wondering if it would be okay if I dm'ed you if that's alright with you? I totally understand if you would prefer not to, I enjoy talking to you through asks and tags too 😊

Sending hugs (if that's okay with you) and wishes for a good night/day to be granted to you!!

[toxifoxx]

[sorikkung]

people interacting w wgoin in my notes... this would be a rly bad time to say all my writing will probably be on hiatus for the indefinite future huh

[nofacednerd]

so I know like a ton of people just started following me for my superman fanart but I’ve been hearing some pretty nerve-wracking things about whether or not fanart counts as strikebreaking? So I’m putting that on pause for a while until I get an actual clear “no” on that or until the strike ends

[musical-chick-13]

*clinging onto the sleeves of anyone who will listen* THE SHIP. THE SHIP, GUYS. DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THE SHIP.

THE SHIP

[i-fondued]

Fellow ADHD ghestie I am humbly on my knees begging for your outlining secrets /how/

My brain just nopes the fuck out every time I try and I have so many stories that are just not getting written because my brain is three fucking squirrels in a trenchcoat arguing about who’s driving the bus

so. short answer, you gotta push through the blog with whatever does it for you and just write the scene that is in your head down even if it looks like you were drunk in the middle of the night and scribbled nonsence. I also never sleep more than like 6 hours a night these days but i do not recommend that ahahahaha

the long version of the answer is under the cut because I didn't want to clog up people's dashes and I know I have always be curious on other writers process and as an ADHD girlie I get feeling completely at mercy to the squirrels in their trench coat at the end of the day.

So my main advice for ADHD girlies who love to write but can't focus is go with whatever your current hyperfixation [for me its obvi ghost] and use that as the scene and characters of your fic. Even if its a tiny fandom, who cares. You are doing this for you and for fun and serotonin damn it! Fuck the algorithms, this is about you having FUN first and formost.

I'm going to use 'Yule at the Abbey' [refered to as YatA going forward] as my example for this whole thing because a) I can't use SiS without spoiling it LOL and b) its the most recent thing I've worked on thats already out.

Step One: Let the intrusive fanfic idea run wild when it first appears

What I mean by that is that YatA was born while I was driving to work listening to MCR's cover of All I Want for Christmas is You. It just popped in my head like hey girl how about a christmas special?? So I let the plot bunny lead me while I drove. I thought about what Christmas or Yule would look like at the abbey, and what about how cute it would be if Terzo was trying to set up Sister and Copia with mistletoe. Let my brain go WILD while I was able too, once I got to work I scribbled down and quick blurb in my notes app on my phone before I took my morning meds and the plot bunny would have vanished.

Step Two: Write out an outline, either real focused or vauge, of start to finish of the story.

Let me show you what I mean by that. This is a real example of how I outline before I start writing anything [this is part of the outline for YatA]:

Even if you have to go back and edit your thoughts just. get. it. down. Obviously for those of you who've read the christmas special, you know that the first bullet point is not how that went down exactly, and thats okay. The first step in the process is just getting whatever idea that is in your brain down on paper EVEN IF IT IS SHIT!!

I do this with everything I write now, I never used to outline when I was younger and everything turned out fine but now I'm old with more things that homework to worry about and I can't always remember the direction I want to go in so everything is written down, even if its edited later. For my own connivence I have both a notes app and google docs on my phone since thats what I do all my writing on, it also makes it easier for me to do some writing on the go if i have any time.

Step Three: Use headphones or a space where you can focus at all times when writing

My husband doesn't love it but when I am in real writing mode, especially with something long like Sinners, but this is a typical night in our house during the writing nights; i come home from work, we put the kids to bed, and then i curl up on the couch with my airpods and listen to music and ignore everything around me LOL. i have like 400 playlists i use to set the scene in my head, like smut ones for smut or romance ones for fluff. I have a general vibes playlist for sinners but I also have just a general writing playlist i use to focus myself. this is the same tactic i use at work so it makes sense i would then use it when i'm writing something

and finally...Step Four: Try to remember that when it starts feeling like work or not fun anymore, then its time for a step back and maybe reevaluate what you're writing

i know, I KNOW, that this is the hardest one to follow but when i get overwhelmed or writers block i honestly pause what i'm writing and either just go and do something else i enjoy or work on another story. i learned in my creative writing class in school something that has always stuck with me. Steven King will write a whole draft and then stick it in a drawer and leave it for like six months while he works on something else and then comes back to it to proof read and make changes to it with almost fresh eyes. i try for a sped up version of this [with the exception of sis because i do not have time to wait and i had the whole outline done by chapter 5 lol] and work on little ficklets between sinners updates like a little reward, or even work on what is my next big project after sinners.

So yeah, thats the best advice I can give for other neurodivergent girlies trying to keep themselves focused on their writing. its not easy and there are times i would rather chuck my laptop out the window than work on writing, thats when i take the time to just enjoy tumblr and maybe read others writing because useally seeing other people's work really inspires me to work on my own.

you've got this ghestie, i believe in you 💖

[pa-pa-plasma]

people are so weird about stopping for animals on the road. sorry but if you don't have the ability to see that the squirrel standing on the side of the completely straight 40kph road 10 houses ahead is going to bolt in front of you, you can't do that with children either & should not be driving. it is literally a skill issue.

[gynaephora]

I'm 100% certain we have at least two more mental illnesses than we thought less than an hour ago but now is not the time to unpack that! [The time to unpack that is never. [Knowing us, I will have completely forgotten this revelation happened within half an hour. Try me.]]

[deadsetobsessions]

Ghost King Phantom was an odd addition to the League. J’onn was often the last to find others odd but from the get-go, Phantom was the only quiet spot he’d have in his telepathic field. At first, it was off putting as most of the people that slipped beyond the reach of his immediate field tended to be villains and the like. But as Phantom remained in the Justice League, J’onn had come to learn to appreciate the calm spot in the turbulent sea of his friends’ and coworkers’ thoughts.

“You have taken to me faster than the others. Why is that?”

Phantom hummed purringly, another peculiar sound that J’onn had yet to see any of his human or alien heroes recreate with any success. They sat at their usual spot, face facing the cosmos and backs guarded by their friends. Plus, J’onn and Phantom could look directly into the sun without painfully loosing their sight.

“I guess I’ve always been fond of the stars. Of space, and everything in it. What about you? Why did we become friends so fast?”

J’onn shook his head, a human motion he’d learned a long time ago to imitate. “No, we became slower friends than most, as my telepathic abilities allow for easier communication and understanding of one another’s motives. With the exception of Batman but I have found he is often the exception to most expectations.”

“That checks out,” King Phantom laughed. “Well, I’m glad we became friends. It’s very cool to meet a Martian. Space is one of my Obsessions, you see.”

J’onn nodded. “I see. I am sorry that I am the only Martian you will meet.”

“You are?”

J’onn nodded again, slower. Sadder. His facial muscles, in this form, does not imitate human patterns well and he knew that most people could not pick out his emotions without his verbal expression.

Intuition tells J’onn that Phantom knew regardless.

“Would you mind telling me what happened?” His voice is gentle, the emotions that Phantom pushes at him are gentle and questing, but not demanding. It has been a long time since anyone has asked him of memories he clung to. And so, J’onn J’onzz speaks in the way that was natural to him, the way his people communicated.

With his mental voice flowing into Phantom’s head, J’onn tells him of the wonders that used to be his home. He provided images and sounds of how his home shone as the sun rose, how the shadows that fell when the sun dipped beneath the horizon felt as comforting as a Martian’s first telepathic cradle. He tells Phantom of his twin brother, grief and agony entwined in the memories of someone he had loved. He spoke of his wife and their daughter, and their cozy home on the windswept plains of Mars.

King Phantom sat still with him as the Watch-Tower moved along, around a king and his friend who was recounting the stagnant grief of his past.

J’onn tells him of the virus, borne of his twin’s hatred, and how he watched everything around him burn. How he had desperately tried to prevent his wife and daughter from using their telepathic abilities. He spoke of his failures. He wove together a tapestry of insanity and grief, built upon the burning bodies of his wife and their beloved daughter. He tells Phantom how the Mars now was just ashes and dust of his former home. How he could not look upon the planet and not see the shades of his wife and daughter and parents and friends, walking upon a barren planet that no longer held anything familiar to the last Martian.

Phantom had hummed again, a soothing rumble. Sadness dripped from the edges of his consciousness.

“If it was not for the Doctor, I would be dead and shattered.” J’onn spoke for the first time in three hours. “It is… less painful to live. I have purpose.”

“I am glad that you are not either of those things.” Phantom stood. “Come with me. I have to show you something.”

J’onn trusted Phantom, and thus followed the king into the glowing green portal.

They flew past many doors, Phantom often glancing at him before shaking his head and changing directions.

They stopped at a door that felt familiar. J’onn knew it from somewhere.

“Go ahead, open the door. But know that you can’t stay long. You don’t belong to this realm quite yet. Not for quite a while.” Phantom moves, hand gesturing towards the door without a knob.

“How..?”

“How else? You have telekinesis, don’t you?”

J’onn blinked. Right. He opened the door and- oh.

The door warped with the screaming storm of grief and love and oh-how-I’ve-missed-you that J’onn unleashed.

Because there in front of him were M’yri’ah and K’hym, his wife and daughter.

The door was an imitation of his home, back when he had not known true loss.

“Impossible,” he stumbled back.

“You are in the realm of the dead. You didn’t think the title of the Ghost King was for fun, did you, J’onn?” Phantom smiled and- a move J’onn would definitely engage in petty payback for, later after he’d gotten over the shock- pushed him flying right into the room.

M’yri’ah and K’hym cradled him with telepathic swirls of love and husband!-dad!-love-love-love-safe!

And J’onn shuddered and gathered the his world in his arms to say goodbye.

——