#I need to make a bucket list because I sense my death is near

[pittsburghhockeybirds]

Oops, my hand slipped.

[that-punk-adam]

This is not at all a new take on life here in the US of A however I feel as though I will peel my skin off if I don’t say it;

People are seeing death as a valid option to the current state of the world + the future and now I am fully understanding why.

There is no more ‘village’. There are no reliable social safety nets installed that are realistic or easy to access. You H A V E to drive EVERYWHERE if you’re even able to drive. If your area has a bus it has to fight on the road with every other driver. To get 9 miles away from point A to B takes 2 hour out of your day. No one is hiring or they are paying minimum wages for you to run their whole circus operation damn near by yourself. Average 1 bedroom apartments are $1.1k a month for 500 sqf and if you SOMEHOW get a roommate and get them to agree to split rent and utilities then y’all are going to battle for personal space. A 2 bed is out of the question bc there is no way in hell that you can save anything if you are spending more then half of your wages on rent. You want to go out and have a sense of what it means to be fulfilled as a human? Don’t even dream about it, you have your bills coming up.

Get a second or 3rd job? Wait… you were able to find one? They didn’t ghost? Lucky you; now you are better off & you can now sleep knowing that the 2nd job will be able to pay for the gas ($3+/gal), insurance (3X what it used to be but still making you open up ur wallet before they step in), and your car note! (Wayyy too much for a used).

What is fun? What are get togethers? What is a ‘cheap meal’? What’s a bucket list? What’s a vacation? What’s a hobby? Wait, you can afford to replace items and not get anxiety over it? You can afford more then an arm full of groceries?? Will you be able to retire by the time you’re 60 with enough money in the bank to not just exist, but to do the things you’ve always wanted to do during those working decades? What will elder and death care look like? Will your children be able to not live in poverty?

We as young people are seeing death as a valid option because we know we will NEVER see an adult life like those before us prior to the 90’s. Starting a family or adding on to your family will put you in poverty. Buying a house if you’re fortunate enough will put you in poverty. Renting will put you in poverty. Working more jobs will put you in poverty. Having a car will put you into poverty, not having one will keep you from ever getting one. We will just work and work to never ever have anything to show for it. This is not the lifestyle that I’d doom more life to do for the rest of their lives. Something’s gotta change sooner rather then later and it’s gotta be grass roots. We have to be willing to break some rules to get to where we need to be.

Things. Must. Change.

[valiantly-onward]

Harumi part 1

I think the reason Harumi ticks me off so much is because she's a character whose motivations feel skewed. Don't get me wrong, as a character and as a villain I think she's fantastic and she definitely ranks high on my list of favorite Ninjago villains, but one of the most interesting things about her (and one of the things I hate most) is that her motivations change all the time. She wants to hurt Lloyd, she wants him to join her side. She wants to save Ninjago, she wants to see it destroyed, she serves Garmadon as her father but runs from him when she sees he's going to lose, she saves a family that she herself put in danger but then almost immediately goes back to being evil.

So my thought is this - despite being arguably one of the best villains on the show and a master manipulator, we don't know exactly what she wants. I'm not sure Harumi even knows what she wants. Which is fair, if we understand that she's a heavily-traumatized 16-20 year old. She's a brilliant case study in how unhealthy coping mechanisms can develop into unhealthy lines of thinking and desires - essentially, what might've happened to Lloyd had he not found a loving support system he could trust.

There's only a few times we've seen Harumi truly vulnerable, usually when she's alone or away from people she's putting on a manipulative front for (i.e. Lloyd and the ninja). These times are a) sitting alone on the Bounty looking at pictures of her parents, biological and adopted, b) when she's asking Garmadon to make her his daughter, and c) when she saves that family at the end of Hunted. Each of these times we get the sense that what Harumi is really looking for is a sense of family and love, which somehow got convoluted with an obsession with Garmadon. Funnily enough, needing to be loved (and not abandoned) is also Lloyd's driving inner motivation for pretty much everything he does. In s8 we get this back and forth of Harumi trying to destroy Lloyd from the inside out, and then Misako telling Lloyd to not let the good parts of himself go, and then Lloyd himself telling Harumi, "I won't let it [the death of his family] do to me what it did to you." On the inside, I think Harumi and Lloyd look very much the same, but they diverge when it comes to action - Lloyd chooses light and compassion, while Harumi chooses manipulation and rage.

Inside, Harumi is a mess of hatred and anger and an intense desire to be loved again - that emptiness she refers to when she puts the Mask of Hatred on. And it's driven her to a point of near-madness, where at this point all that seems to matter to her is revenge. All of this anger and hatred really is directionless, so she directs it at the ninja, specifically Lloyd. But nevertheless, I cannot wait for the rest of Crystalized to explain to us what headspace Harumi is in these days - but I fully expect it to be far more unhinged than it was back in the Oni arc, as she falls farther and farther and subconsciously (or consciously) realizes what's happened to her.

What I really want from Harumi before she inevitably kicks the bucket or redeems herself is a realization of what Lloyd told her back in s8: even if she convinced herself she was starting out with the intent to protect Ninjago, she's actually driven by the chaos of her inner hatred and emptiness and has become the one who destroys families instead of saving them - we all THOUGHT she learned this lesson in Hunted but apparently not.

[washymylifeaway]

MatsuHana fanfic recs

HI LOVES :D MatsuHana is one of my FAVORITE ships and I always love reading their fics! I’m procrastinating my other wips rn, so that do be why this is coming out rn LOL. Also that ask really made me get onto writing this, so anon thank you for sending it in LOL. There are some with VERY sensitive topics and they’re very BOLD, but I hope you all are safe while going through this list <3 (also matsuhana leans more to lots of drinking, spicy smut scenes, and teenage boy humor (like d*ck jokes and sexual innuendos) and sometimes I don’t remember to warn for that, so again CAUTION)

As always, pls check WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES for fics before reading and make sure you’re taking care of yourselves (since mental health is key!) Stay healthy loves <3

CP:

plus one by orphan_account (G) 6.1k // this fic made me feel so warm and fuzzy inside LOL. It’s also hilarious and is definitely worth a read! When will I get to share a heart shaped bed with someone :( But I really love it when they just go with the flow of things, and other people are like,,, aren’t you already dating? BUT THEY’RE LIKE UMMM NO? HSAKJSH.

rated m for by orphan_account (T) 10.7k // I love this fic it made me laugh so much throughout the whole thing! The vibes in this fic are immaculate and give me life (we love a good reunion with mystery writers), it is SO good! That’s why you should never leave/stop listening prematurely (@ iwa when he was a single dad fic). 

This gets annoying fast, Makki by Ink_stained_quills (G) 2.3k // IM IN LOVE WITH THIS FIC PLS I COULD NOT STOP CRYING TEARS OF LAUGHTER. This AU needs more fics PLEASE. It was SO freakin’ funny and the other teams KILLED ME. Like how they all approached the problem differently and how some of them (KUROO) asked for help LOL. Please this is so freaking funny go read it.

quidditch gloves, parchment, and custard cream by h_lovely (T) 12.4k // THIS IS SO GOOD, I love this fic. It really takes you through the emotions, and I love all the development in it!!!! Their relationship with one another (but only as homies right? ofc ofc), and even their families loving the other, this fic is so good! Read it even if you don’t like slow burn, you won’t even notice <3333

call me maybe by totooru (T) 33.6k // okay yea another (semi) chat fic,,, fight me. MatsuHana are just funny in general but throw some other characters (like Kuroo) into it and it turns into a comedy show. But the main point of this fic was like the near miss meetings and I think that the misunderstanding were hilarious (as much as I hate misunderstandings LOL).

Magical Mishaps and How to Deal by plumtrees (M) 10.9k // I lost this fic once and I searched for it FOR THE LONGEST TIME. But that’s cause I wanted to reread this masterpiece. IT’S SO FUNNY AND CUTE AND DOMESTIC AND UGH. Also the small angst made me SO SAD. But the ENDING? THE KISSES AHHHHHHH. (I’m yelling a lot BUT that’s cause I really love this fic <3333)

hang out fall in love by carafin (T) 8.6k // I love the Makki hates Mattsun initially but then falls for the irresistible charm he posses trope. It might be my favorite trope for MatsuHana specifically LOL. Like I really love this fic and it has MAGIC. It’s like a magical version of the VA one LOL. But like no radio shows or reunited best friends in this one :(

THESE ARE VERY ANGST!!!!!!!

boiled frogs by reginagalaxia (E) 91.5k // is it possible to hate a character this much? I never realized how much hate/rage I had in me. Really. Like. Imma boutta fight this MF LIKE SQUARE UP. The way I tried to manifest a fake characters death like,,,, Anyway. If my RAGE doesn’t explain how good of a freakin writer they are, then idk what will. PLEASE READ THE TAGS AND WARNINGS, THERE ARE VERY SENSITIVE TOPICS!!!!

Even Though it All Went Wrong by plumtrees (T) 9.2k // THIS IS THE REASON THIS POST CAME TO BE. I love this fic with all my heart (or what’s left of it). Like LOVE as in, this fic really broke me beyond just breaking me. Like. When Oikawa says what he says to Mattsun after the thing (you’re sorry __ _____ __ ____) and the Iwa right after (we know __’__ ___ ______ to make you ____ __ ____) (if you’re wondering wtf I’m putting here, just ctrl F you’re sorry and you’ll see), you cannot believe how hard that hit. GOD. (I am okay if you’re wondering :’)) This is my #1 favorite angst fic of all time and if you are okay mentally and have read the tags and warnings and are fine with them, then please read it. PLEASE READ THE TAGS AND WARNINGS, THERE ARE VERY SENSITIVE TOPICS!!!!

The Truth Comes Out by Your_Friendly_Neighborhood_Pigeon (T) 10.2k // this made me so sad and empty after I read it. Like I just sat there being like wtf did I just read I’m sad now. Again read the tags, there is a suicide attempt but there’s also some cheating in this one. This one also ends happy. PLEASE READ THE TAGS AND WARNINGS, THERE ARE VERY SENSITIVE TOPICS!!!!

New:

kiyala // this writer has a LOT of fluffy MatsuHana and I really love their works! It’s just all (for the most part) really cute and there’s a lotta blurred lines and boundaries that get cleared up (they define what their relationship is but with ~love~) in their fics :) My fav? Making Sense by kiyala (T) 1.5k // it’s very cute and I am one who loves when things just fall into place :D

tookumade // this writer has some of MY FAVORITE MatsuHana fics in it and I’m kinda really sad I don’t get to ramble on about them here :( (dw I will elsewhere LOL) If I had to choose, I would say Remind Me by tookumade (T) 28.6k and Zenith, Nadir by tookumade (T) 10.7k were my absolute favorites, but I cannot choose between them so don’t make me.

plumtrees // I LOVE THIS WRITER OMG. Again, someone who has written my all time FAVORITE fics (did I mention OF ALL TIME?) and I’ve obsessively read some of them too many times :’) Because I already recommended my other faves above, Captured Light by plumtrees (T) 3.5k will be my acting favorite rn. It’s really cute and depicts some really sweet moments between MatsuHana too!

h_lovely // this writer has SO MANY GOOD FICS! I really love their series and their getting together fics are all SO GOOD UGH. I recommended my favorite teen one above, but the other ones I loved are explicit so just check out this writer in general LOL. (I REALLY love mirror flower, water moon, it’s my favorite but it’s E cause some smexy scene happen, but it’s really SO good omfg. Also the roses series IS AMAZING as well!!!!)

cream puffs and carnations; by crossbelladonna (series) 11.6k // AU SERIES!!! I love the AU’s in this series and I really liked the prompts they chose for this MatsuHana week :D My favorite from this series might’ve been there he is again by crossbelladonna (T) 1.6k cause a) I love the mattsun hc in this (for his appearance) and b) IT’S CUTE :D I definitely related to Makki and his not very subtle crushing, and also I like the IwaOi + Makki as friends trope (and then they meet Mattsun), if you couldn’t tell yet LOL.

on the anatomy of crushes by carafin (T) 2.3k // (kinda cp but not LOL) it’s very short and cute and I love it a lot LOL. I love medical AU’s (even though it’s very back burner LOL), but also, like Mattsun saves the day is the move. Like the dedication he has even going on the bus? Especially for a guy? Amazing. I could never :’)

Parallel Lines by orphan_account (T) 16.3k // IN LOVE WITH THIS FIC LIVES IN MY MIND RENT FREE CONSTANTLY. I hate math. Just putting that out here. And while it’s a math fic, IT? IS? SO? GOOD???? And like I love it when characters are smart, like I love intelligent characters so like this was just ajndf. (also same Mattsun, I am allergic to normal math.) 

live it up, drink it in by punybastard (T) 2.1k // GAH this one! This is a pretty iconic fic in MatsuHana hell (in my personal opinion) and if I didn’t have that two fic limit on my staple fics, this would be there. I really loved the ending of it (v cute and v well done), but also the small side stories that were inserted made it all the more entertaining :D (aka the volleyball) But they are drinking underage, so if you’re not about that BE WARNED.

it's cold out here by bishounen_curious (M) 8.6k // PLEASE I LOVE THIS FIC. YES READ YESYESYES READ. OKAY FIRST check tags and warnings, there’s a lot going on in this fic. Like don’t be stupid like them, drinking underage, and don’t do drugs not a good idea very very bad. Aside from that, I am in love with sad sad sad Makki (along with stupid IwaOi) and him being a sad drunk made me ajhkjdfs. Just read it and feel the akfnakjs with me LMFAO.

poolside by tothemoon (T) 4.1k // I’m starting this out with I LOVE the ending and I REALLY LOVE the way this confession panned out. It’s such a great concept and it made me ajhfldshf inside!!! Also, recursive endings are some of my favorites (if you couldn’t already tell LOL), and I think it really makes something so nostalgic and adds depth to a fic.

The Courage of Stars by FairyLights101 (T) 7.1k // AHHHHHHHHHHHHH I LOVE THIS FIC YES!!!! OKAY TW CANCER THERE’S CANCER IN THIS NO DEATH JUST PAIN and chemo (which basically is pain). Some controversy, but the angst part of me wanted him to die DONT GET ME WRONG, I’m glad he lived, but like imagine. I really love this fic, and his efforts in the bucket list were admirable :’)

we could be the greatest team by anyadisee (T) 5.7k // it’s my crack fic :D Yes, this is just Seijoh messing around, boys being boys, relationships being compared with other relationships. No pining, just me with my established relationships (and Iwa fanclubs cause those are a thing. ALWAYS).

Wet Your Whistle by darkmagicalgirl (E) 5.4k // SMUT ALERT okay but like while it’s a major plot point (lmfao I can’t believe myself), the storyline itself is good. Also, I’m all here for bartender Makki and tattoo Makki and not subtle at all Makki and basically everything Makki. I like banter and stupidity okay?

[obnoxious clucking noises] by parenthetic (renaissance) (T) 3.4k // some more crack fic for you <3333 Literally, just idiots being idiots. That’s the fic. LMFAO but seriously, I would like to participate as well,,,,, I have yet to lose a game of gay chicken cause of my lack of fear akdjaslk.

that's what you get (for waking up in vegas) by skittidyne (T) 4.2k // THIS IS SO FUNNY. I love Elvis cause he’s always officiating marriages in my fics LMFAO. But also IwaOi in this added some real nice comedy, and overall another crack fic but I really liked this one (AGAIN LMFAO).

A Bouquet of Flours by guyfierimpreg (G) 5.2k // first I want to know how they got the flour to scream, I just can’t figure it out so if anyone would like to send me pictures that’d be great. Second, they would do this bs and this is all canon. I said what I said, and I don’t take criticism. Like, matsuhana best parents proven by the magical mishaps fic (LMAO).

texting (with a capital S) by parenthetic (renaissance) (M) 2.1k // okay I just wanted to say that the accuracy in the math stuff being mentioned makes me feel like this writer was in calc ab or something and that’s trauma right there. Anyways, it’s a texting fic kinda sorta getting together kinda sorta not? Idk how to explain it, but it was funny and then smut LMFOAJIAHFSJS (the derail was just like IwaOi in gay chicken, someone call the police LMFAO).

nebulas by tothemoon (T) 10.8k // I like the casualness of it. Like the confession was just so casual (smooth Mattsun) and like the progression was GOOD. Like, it’s a very poetic fic and there’s lots of thinking of deeper meaning, but its still got some comedy sprinkled throughout. I really loved the flow of it!!!!

my heart beats for contract law by orphan_account (T) 4.4k // I too would have a breakdown over school (me pretending like I haven’t already done that ahaha), but I really love so many things about this fic! Everything was just so ajsdfljdsn and I really love the 3 part plan Mattsun comes up with :DDDD (esp pt 3). Also, to propose while having an emotional breakdown at 3am in a McDonalds drive through. A mf dream.

Reflex by hiuythn (T) 2.3k // PLEASE IF THEY DIDN’T MEET AT HS THIS WOULD BE CANON ASF. You cannot tell me you don’t think this would not be cannon asf. They would meet like this. Also poor Teuchi stuck in the middle of all of this. I haven’t watched naruto, but it doesn’t really matter. What matters is random emotional sexual bonding over something. That is important. (THE ENDING AJKFHKJ)

You're in Pink (and I'm in blue) by Hyeyu (T) 4.4k // whooooo Hanahaki whooo anyway, despite how it seems, I like the hanahaki trope. I don’t fully understand it sometimes (most of the time tbh), but it adds some nice angst and desperate confessions, and I do appreciate those :D Honestly, I really liked the way this fic panned out, and I felt really bad for Iwa LOL.

stranger things by tinypersonhotel (G) 10.2k // I really like this one :D:D:D I love Makki + Oikawa friendship and they’re really the best to each other :’) The ending was satisfying, and the PLOT omg. It was SO good. I feel like I say this a lot though LOL, but I’m just really into fics with good plot progression (or else I don’t read them OOPS).

something of a disaster by latenights (T) 1.4k // chaos ahahhaha. Another crack fic? I hope no one is surprised LOL. It’s just a really short and simple, cute getting together fic with a LOT of insults LOL. I love this one in particular, “Tooru’s dinner special”.

snakes, meth labs and something like love by orphan_account (G) 3.6k // THE ROOMMATE AD PLEASE. I honestly would never think Oikawa would get a snake, but that doesn’t matter LOL. This was me indulging myself in the makki IwaOi best friends and mattsun stranger agenda but it’s a great agenda okay? It’s a good fic and there’s a microwaved fish :D

Lemonade by carriecmoney (T) 4.1k // okay once again, responsible drinking and don’t drink underage bad idea smh. But MatsuHana just making out where they want? I could see that. Yeah. Anyway, as much as public make out seshes make me *gag* feel embarrassed, what made me feel more *gag* embarrassed was the fact that the girls? just? stood? there? Like why are you watching this. Is that just me? I feel like they should’ve left smh.

surprise, surprise by airblends (T) 7.6k // some more pining and dancing around the issue whoooo. As much as I hate them not getting to the point (almost as much as I hate misunderstandings), it was a great fic. This is nosebleed c*ck block (idk if I needed to censor that but I did fight me).

A God for Every Season by timkons (T) 18.4k // I love the Hades and Persephone trope! Okay, I just love mythology leave me be, but anyway I really love a lot of this fic. Like how Mattsun thinks it’s a little brighter with Makki? CUTE I LOVE. But also, the fish funeral is ridiculous but also very on brand for Oikawa. And some BokuKuroo (idk is that their ship) in here as well :DDD

The Best/Worst Places to Cry in the City by AngryKitten (T) 4.4k // literally it is the title. Just you know, looking for the best place to cry in the city,,,, I’d like to say, don’t cat call people cause we’re not about that here. Even if it worked out for them, just don’t do it :/ Also don’t follow strangers. I feel like that’s a given but jic ya know?

this isn't exactly how i thought i'd be spending my adult years by jadedpearl (NR) 7.5k // okay petty Makki is yes and so is my Makki + IwaOi agenda LOL. (I’m thriving here can’t you tell? Yes regular skype/phone calls constantly) Anyway, blackouts and sickness really be here getting people together. (I’m asking nicely, nike.) And Makki is smooth with his words. (SHORTER MEN MADE ME LAUGH)

chocolate by tellalie (T) 3.6k // the dedication in this fic was amazing. Like making a whole a cake? Someone go do that for me. (For mankind.) Fake dating is really something else, but fake dating to out gag your best friends? Seems like I need to step up my game (but no seriously, my best friends are PDA monsters I hate it here). Also practice confessions are wack.

FINALLY I MADE IT. You don’t know how many times I almost gave up on finishing LMFAO. Is this my longest list? Idk. But I just know that I would’ve finished faster if I didn’t end up rereading almost every fic on this list LMFAO. Like no seriously I almost had to make a post saying this wouldn’t be coming out cause I got distracted by one of the longer fics (I’m blaming Mirror Flower, Water Moon specifically). But I hope you enjoyed this, and once again go thank that anon for spurring me into finishing this list LMFAO (am I a horse? Yea, probably but if one thing, I’m not sturdy).

[lucefrs]

          tl;dr: luce thinks about how she should have never ended up at georgetown in the first place, and the domino effect it had on her life. after flunking out of gallagher, she savours the summer. her and scott break up sometime after new years. a quick onslaught of success makes her feel wary, unsure how to not take up space she doesn’t deserve after doing it so many times before. she performs her own song in the lower east side.

                                                                      insp for the song she plays at the end. 

BEFORE.

luce is a bright child but lacks in the area of self discipline and application. she would benefit from paying closer attention during class discussion.

she knew from a very young age that she was not smart. at least not by the metric that institutions measure by. the unlucky curse that has kept her in the stream of academia is this: luce frear is smart enough. to graduate secondary school because it’s a key that unlocks america’s golden arches. to pursue higher education when she gets the encroaching feeling that she’s going to be found out that she doesn’t actually have any family friend's as guarantors. at the time, she doesn’t know how impossible georgetown is. but finding herself in the company of a man who will pay for her to do well, with a tutor that makes the s.a.t’s boil down to a formula of memorization and deduction is a genius move. those three hours are brutal, she struggles but she struggles through it, proud that only a handful of questions were left unanswered. it’s only after she's sat for it that she realizes how impossible georgetown is with it’s fourteen percent acceptance rate.

she uses his mailing address to apply, so it’s him that greets her with a sealed envelope that makes her stomach turn as soon as she opens the door. out of the corner of her eye she sees a bottle of champagne sitting in a bucket of ice. she knows what the letter will say: her sat score’s a valiant effort, enough to get her into any state school, but by no means exceptional. bracing herself for his disappointment she pushes the folded paper towards him so she can pretend his disappointment’s directed at the words on the page and not at her. but the skin at the corner of his eyes pinches and there’s no crease between his brows and she knows something is very wrong. or very right. she’s not sure, at the time it’s all very muddled, thinking about how much she likes that there's no place for his smile to hide, and how that's going to be one of her favourite parts of getting old. his smile that runs right to the tip of his nose, bumps against her cheek when he kisses her. he’s kissing her. he’s happy. because of her. she’s made him happy. that's good. she's happy too. then he’s by the kitchen counter, shaking off the champagne from his hand that’s flows over the lip of the bottle and she’s saying things like, ‘   my sat scores were no where near the average,    ’ and he counters that she shouldn’t disregard the importance of supplemental essays and she makes fun of how he talks because she always does. a girl’s got nothing but a gut to trust, and every glass of champagne’s a fuck you to it. luce never pukes from having too much to drink. she pukes in his shower. luce is not smart, but she’s smart enough not to question how she got into georgetown university.

‘   god, you’re so smart luce. we could call it the boyfriend guesses my lip gloss challenge.   ’ she only hears the first part, boasting a smile that makes the apples of her cheeks swell, all rosy like. at the time gallagher had felt like a enticing romp, bound by infatuation, the glint of the dew that hung at the end of the school’s weeping willows sparkling so bright that her heart-shaped sunglasses couldn’t subdue it. luce has never waited for anything, but her first few months at gallagher felt like a gift the universe had hand-picked, oblivious of her christmas list doodled with music notes and brand names of dresses that cost seven hundred dollars, it felt like finding treasure. smart’s an understatement, genius is more apt. she lets this sentiment lead, when the offer to stay comes soaring towards at her like paper plane that falls right into the palm of her hands. it makes logical sense to stay. scott’s here.

she’ll adapt. but gallagher starts to feel worlds away, and as much as she digs her heels into the gravel, gravity starts to slip from her grasp. but how could she can complain? in outer space, anywhere she looks there’s an endless landscape of stars, bright and twinkling, beckoning her towards the nearly planet. but it makes her want to cry when she sees the blue-green dot recede into the distance.

PRESENT-ISH.

luce has her final exam tomorrow and she’s going to crush it. she’s so excited she can’t sleep. there’s no way she could fail it, unless she slept through it but that won’t happen because she has five alarms set and a scott for safe measure. she’s so excited her heart’s sprinting from her sternum to her stomach and it would be classified as nausea if she didn’t know it was just plain excitement. she winces at the brightness from her phone as she checks the time. 3:36. if she falls asleep in the next four minutes she’ll have a solid four hours, but as soon as she closes her eyes her heart runs like it’s just heard the start of the piston, and the percentage she needs to get in order to pass the class rings aloud and reverberates against her brain. forty six percent. she doesn’t even need to pass the exam in order to pass the class — she’s going to be a gallagher girl. whether she likes it or not. in the dark, her hand finds the nob of his bedside drawer, carefully sliding it open, her fingers tinkering inside to feel for whatever weed scott has, gifted joints or a prized gram for winning a dumb luck game. he always has something, even after he passes some of it on to seb. she doesn’t go far, slips out of his grasp and onto the lantern lit cobbled pavements, follows it strictly like she’s on a board in a game of snakes and ladders, stopping every time she takes a drag. she eventually falls against a bench like an abandoned rag-doll, limbs splayed every which way and falls asleep until she's woken up by the rev of a motorcycle engine set as her alarm. luce goes through the pre-test motions with due diligence, takes a shower and eats a proper meal, as though there's someone waiting to accuse her of self-sabotage. she picks up her tote that's packed from the night before and gives the test her all. it's not her fault that her focus wavered in five minute blocks, or that nerves make her feel as though there's an ongoing tussle in her tummy. she treats the residual high as something she couldn't possibly have controlled, it should've left her system by now. and she’s a hero for persevering through it. she tried her best. and in spite of it all, she still fails. thank god.

SUMMER.

she doesn’t want the summer to end. it does anyways.  

INTERLUDE

she's not the type to tuck herself into the booth, but harper’s gone to the bathroom and luce has a gnarly blister on the back of her heel, and her head’s been swimming in cheap liquor all night with no reprieve. she can’t get her head above water for more than a minute before falling back under. her gaze catches a couple in the corner, slow dancing to david guetta and her lips curl into a wry smile, his lips cushioned against his neck, murmuring something she’ll never know, and then they’re laughing — maybe about the fact that they’re slow dancing to memories, or because they’re in love, everything’s funnier when you’re in love. a tiny giggle, lost to the boom of the speakers escapes her, because she’s so in love too.

i miss you.   missing ur 🍆 spare nudes? 🙏🏼 ft? x

she holds down the backspace key and puts her phone away.

                                                         ***

‘   i don't know how to miss you in the right way,   ’ she says after a bout of silence, it makes her stomach lurch, like stepping off a ledge and finding the ground lower than expected. there’s no chance to blink back the tears, and she’s so in shock from what she’s just said that she makes no motion to cover her face from him, staring down the barrel of the webcam, like she’s on the brink of death. she’d give up the forty years of her life to get to the part where she can look back on this fondly, of a great love that once was. her child-like whimpers have her grappling for breath. ‘   it hurts.   ’ she manages to sputter out, and she knows it’s hurting him too. eventually, luce will blink away the last of her tears, because she needs this picture to really believe it.

SOMETIME, SOME DAY.

she's not so much herself as she is everyone else. there are pieces of her in the crescendo of what billboard deems the song of the summer. she’s etched in the familiarity of the bass in the last song played before last call — the resonant thrum of waking up blacked out on the front lawn of an ex best friend. the producer that the lead singer can't function without. the origin story of a grammy nominated album which started on the fire escape, exiled by roaches, a guitar slung like a rifle entering the wild wild west of cicadas and greeted by an empty ashtray save for a half abandoned spliff. a story deified for late night talk shows with parrot hosts and their fake squawks. it’s all made up names in CD booklets that no one looks at anyways. it doesn’t make her an enigma, she has a wikipedia page. record labels take her out for lunch, and she goes because she likes people, even the kind who gawk at her pretty face, drooling at the dollar signs in her doe brown eyes and blonde hair. of course, they love her, a girl who orders salad but doesn’t skip dessert — a reluctance toward fame but endlessly optimistic about the future of the music industry, splits the bill and turns a handshake into a hug when they express their keen interest in working with her. there’s a twinkling note of laughter when she pulls away and says, ‘    you’ve never even heard me sing. i’m not good enough.   ’ and she realizes with a twitch of bitterness that she doesn’t have to be, and things working out feels more like a curse when it isn’t deserved.

she talks but can't write unless it's in time signatures and treble clefs and if she does manage to write in a language comprised of letters ( which has only ever happened once ) she can't sing - unless it’s for boys she likes. so she poaches a voice, scrolling through the repertoire of people who have held her heart in their hands. her song is the last song of his set and it sounds like this. they smile through every note, she laughs at his falsetto in the last chorus. she plays her heart out with a vigour that leaves her palms moist, expecting that when the song ends there’ll be a silence broached by the slow clap of j.k simmons. luce lives in a movie and can feel the montage scene catch up to her. she can feel the lingering memory that never existed : a swollen belly and walls painted pink, a toddler that makes their white picket fenced garden a stomping ground, a cinematic pan across a fairy-lit paris, and night walks. when she looks over, she’ll see him, but she’s going to change the ending. her pinky hovers above the last key she played, letting the sound ring out into silence, before they’re met with fervent applause and whistles. this is the moment. luce looks into the crowd. she looks into the crowd and none of the faces are him because why would they be ? she hadn’t told anyone. the only person who knew was herself. it was hers. this moment is hers and she cradles it close, because she’s never had something of her own before. not really. but she likes the way it feels. the man who once held her heart in his hand kisses the top of her head and praises her with a plunging bow. she looks into the sea of strangers who watch her and she watches them back. this is the moment. hers alone. and she’s never felt less lonely.

[doyumacy]

FALLOUT |LH| TWELVE (FINALE)

*gif not mine

PAIRING: donghyuck x reader bodyguard!donghyuck

WARNINGS: mentions of jaemin taeyong. swearing, major character death, gunshot wound, blood mentioned, grieving 

WORD COUNT: 4,6K

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN 

You groaned as, once again, you awoke sick for the fourth day.

It had been impossible to keep your breakfast down of late, and more often than not you spent most of the morning with your head in a bucket. You blamed the one week old pizza you had a week before.

That morning, Donghyuck made you your favourite breakfast before leaving with Jeno and you couldn't even have a bite. You were going to throw up again.

“Love, did I leave my phone here? I can't find it anywhere…” You heard him.

Another wave of nausea caught you, and you threw your head into the toilet. You coughed, tears in your eyes as the voice got closer. The dry heaving was almost more unpleasant than the vomiting, you lamented, leaving your throat sore and your voice hoarse.

“I am not dressed yet!” You called, not technically lying, as your pajamas clung to your body with sweat.

“I think we are past all that,” he laughed, pushing the door open.

You adjusted your pajasm as he searched, sensing the rush he was in from his near ignoring of you. "I swear I left it here before I took a shower."

He finally found it atop the mantlepiece, and turned to make a comment on it, when he noticed your appearance.

“Good god, are you okay?”

“Fine. A little nauseous, is all.”

He rushed over to you

“I think I have the stomach flu, perhaps. Stay back.”

“I likely already have it, if it is that,” he smiled. “So there is no further harm.”

"Seriously," you whined. "I don't want you to get sick."

"Are you sure you're okay? You look palid," he cupped your face.

You nodded. "Go. Jeno must be waiting for you."

Donghyuck sighed and placed a kiss on your forehead. "If by tomorrow you don't look better I'm taking you to the hospital, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

Your body ached, more so than when you were PMSing. But not every month was the same, so you thought the pill was doing its secondary effects. You grabbed your birth control pill case and before taking it, you checked your last case and realised you missed a few. You cursed.

You stared at the rows upon rows of pregnancy tests. Did women actually know which one to take? Was it common knowledge knowing which one was the best? You sighed and rubbed your eyes. You were probably overreacting. You grabbed the pink one off the shelf. It wasn’t the cheapest one, but it was a brand you remembered from commercials. You stopped by the snack stand and picked up a bar of your peanut butter and chocolate. You always hated peanut butter. Shit. You dropped the bar chocolate and sat down on the counter. The woman at the checkout rang them through and gave you the total.

You held up your bank card, “Credit.”

She nodded and pressed the button. You inserted the card into the machine, went through the motions of inputting your password and checking the account type.

“Would you like a bag?” The woman asked as you waited for the transaction to clear.

You shook your head, “No thank you.”

She handed you the two items and the receipt. You dropped them down into your purse. You exited the drug store and stood on the street corner for a minute. You couldn’t do this alone. You needed some guidance. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and texted Lena.

Can I call you? You pressed send and began walking home.

You recounted the last few times you and Donghyuck had sex. You ran your fingers through your hair, so many times. Your phone rang in your hand and Lena's caller ID showed up.

You smiled, “Hey girl.”

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” She cut right to the chase.

You thought about lying, just to spite her but you two knew each other so well that it wasn’t a surprise that she’d picked up on your worries early on.

“I bought a test.” You explained.

She squealed into the phone and you had to pull it away while she freaked out. You laughed at her reaction. Your nerves settle the tiniest bit. She already had Minah. She knew exactly what to expect. You unlocked your front door and lined it for the couch.

“Ok.” She settled in as you entered your house, “Take the test right now.”

You shook your head, “Isn’t it better to take it in the morning? I swear I heard that somewhere before.”

“Pff if you’re pregnant it doesn’t matter what time of day you take the test.” She explained.

You rolled your eyes, of course she knew best, she was a doctor and a mom after all.

“How am I supposed to pee on a stick and hold the phone at the same time?” You joked.

You heard a door shut on her end, “Put the phone down, pee on the stick and come back.”

You groaned. What if you really were pregnant? You were happy but scared at the same time. This wasn’t something you’ve ever had to deal with.

“Alright.” You said.

You placed the phone down on the table and pulled the test out of your purse. You went into the bathroom, ripped the box open, ignored the instructions and made sure that the bristles were in place. You frowned, this was almost as awkward as peeing in a cup.

You placed the phone down on the table and pulled the test out of your purse. You went into the bathroom, ripped the box open, ignored the instructions and made sure that the bristles were in place. You frowned, this was almost as awkward as peeing in a cup. A shiver ran down your spine as you felt weird about the whole thing. Lena was willingly waiting for you to pee on a stick. You set the test on the corner of the sink, finished your business and pulled up your pants. You pushed the cap over the bristled part of the test and then washed your hands. You grabbed the instructions and test as you went back to the living room. You glanced at the clock. It was only 10:30 in the morning. Donghyuck wouldn’t be home for another few hours.

You picked up the phone, “It’s done.”

“Yay!” Lena laughed. “Have you thought about how you’re going to tell Donghyuck?”

You shrugged, “No. I don’t even know if this is real yet. I could just be overreacting.”

“You wouldn’t have called me if you thought this was a false alarm.” She stated.

You groaned, “Ugh.”

Why was she always right? She laughed again. She distracted you with mindless prattle while you waited the three minutes for the test to finish. You left it sitting on the coffee table, upside down because you still didn’t know if you were prepared for the outcome.

“Three minutes.” Lena announced.

You took a deep breath and gingerly picked up the test. You flipped it over and creased your eyebrows in confusion.

“Uh – it has one solid line and one really faint one.” You told her.

You pulled out the instructions pamphlet and began scanning through. It mentioned that two solid lines mean pregnant but it made no mention of a solid first line and faint second one. Were all the tests this finicky?

“That’s exactly what it looked like when I was pregnant with Minah.” She advised.

You shook your head, “This doesn’t make any sense. The booklet distinctly says that you have to have two solid lines. Not one solid and one barely there.”

She chuckled at your denial, “Y/N you’re pregnant.”

“That’s not what the booklet says!” You fought back.

“You’re pregnant.” Lena said again.

You paused and then all the excitement of being pregnant caught up with you. Tears formed at your eyes.

“I’m pregnant.” You whispered. “I'm pregnant!” You screamed. “Oh my god. Oh my god! How am I going to tell Hyuck?"

“Do something cute, like put the test in a pan and put the pan in the oven.” Lena offered, “Symbolically tell him you have a ‘bun in the oven.’”

You burst into laughter, “Isn’t that sort of stuff reserved for people planning on these things? This wasn’t exactly on our list of to-dos.”

You both broke into giggles. This was absurd and exhilarating all at once. You never expected to ever be a parent. It wasn’t something you thought you had in you. Now that you were pregnant, and with Donghyuck, you’d never felt more ready. The two of you could do this.

You took a deep breath and then blew it out through tight lips, “He’s not going to be home until after 7. I can’t wait that long.”

“Mull it over. He loves you, remember that.” She gave me a minor pep talk, “Oh, and guys handle these things differently. Don’t forget that.”

You nodded, “Alright. Thanks Lena.”

“No problem. You have to call me and tell me how he reacts.” She demanded.

I laughed at her, “I will.”

“Alright girl, I’ve got to go. I’ve been paged five times now.” She spoke swiftly and then hung up.

You dropped your phone down onto the coffee table and turned the TV on. You had no idea how you were going to tell Donghyuck. This was definitely not something either of you had talked about.

(...)

He’d been home for at least an hour now. The two of you were just sitting on the couch, watching TV. You couldn’t concentrate on the show because there was so much going on in your mind. Your face was hot and a blush was covering your entire body. You had no idea why but you felt embarrassed. You hadn’t even said or done anything yet. The tension in your body was building and you were starting to freak out. What if he had a horrible reaction? You never did talk about this. It wasn’t in the plans. Shit! You needed to get out of your head. You couldn’t start making things up. He didn’t even know yet. You tucked your feet underneath you and cradled the throw cushion into your stomach. You felt safer, almost like you were hiding your secret.

“Baby…” You murmured.

He glanced over at you, “Yeah.”

“We need to talk.” You said, immediately regretting your choice of words.

Now he probably thought you were breaking up with him. How did other people do this? This was the hardest conversation you’d ever had to have in your life. He raised an eyebrow at you, waiting for you to speak. You opened your mouth but stopped. You didn’t know what to say. Your heart was thudding in your chest and the adrenaline soared through your body.

"(Y/N)?" Donghyuck kept staring at you. "What is it?"

"Uhm..." you scratched the back of your neck. "I, I don't want to eat shrimp in our wedding."

He stared at you for a couple of seconds. "That is it?" You nodded, swallowing. "Baby, we can eat whatever we want in our wedding."

You hated yourself for lying to him. "I just... heard you say to Jeno you really love shrimp and I don't, so..."

"I don't really mind, love," he pecked you. "If you want to have tacos, then we'll have tacos."

You smiled. "Okay."

"Okay." He kissed you.

You couldn’t do it. You were too nervous.

(...)

You were all together in the cabin you rented, sitting around the coffee table filled with food and drinks.

“So, when's the wedding?” Jaemin asked, having a sip of his beer.

“Uh we still haven't set a date, but I hope it's soon,” Donghyuck replied and smiled.

“Hurry up before my baby bump starts showing!” Lena laughed. "And others things too." She glanced at you. You ignored her.

“Are you pregnant again?” Taeyong looked at her.

She nodded. "Yup, baby number two is coming next winter."

"Hey, congrats," Jaemin smiled. "I bet Hoseok is thrilled."

"He is, he wants twins," Lena rolled his eyes. "As if one wasn't enough."

Donghyuck giggled. "I'd love to have twins one day."

"You see, (Y/N)? Give him babies soon!" Lena smiled.

You rolled your eyes and Donghyuck put an arm around your shoulder. "We'll have kids as soon as we get married."

"You don't even hate a date yet," Jaemin mocked him.

You didn't know when Jaemin and Donghyuck became so close that they would bicker jokingly so often. And you found it funny, but that day you were nervous because you had to tell him you were pregnant. He deserved to know.

Taeyong tilted his head to the side, examining you. You looked different, your body seemed different. And the way you wouldn't look Donghyuck in the eye he could tell you were hiding something.

Then he knew. You were pregnant.

Later that night, you were doing the dishes when Taeyong showed up in the kitchen. He smiled at you as he poured  some water in a glass. He stood next to you, leaning against the counter. “How long are you?”

“Excuse me?” You looked at him.

He cocked his head cutely, smiling. “If I’m not wrong you’re pregnant, right?”

You sighed and nodded. “How did you know? Did Lena tell you? I’m gonna kill her.” You hissed.

Taeyong chuckled and shook his head. “I had a slight suspicion since the last time I saw you.”

You pressed your lips together. “6 weeks.”

“And… are we happy?” He rested his hand on yours.

“I am, I’m just nervous,” you let out an awe sigh. “I know he’s gonna be all happy, but still, it’s unexpected.”

“You’ll be fine.” Taeyong assured you. “Everything will be fine.”

“Promise?”

“When have I ever lied to you?” He cocked an eyebrow.

You giggled. “Never.”

“See?” Taeyong smiled. “Come here.” He pulled you close to him and hugged you. “I’ll always be by your side.”

(...)

“What are we going to do tomorrow?” Jaemin asked.

Donghyuck's eyes lit up, “There are several things we could do, how physical would we like to get?”

There was an extremely varied pool of answers. Jaemin and Donghyuck wanted it to be as extreme as they could get. You seemed anxious about what ‘physical’ would entail as physical usually also corresponded with danger.

Taeyong thought for a moment before recommending, “Why don’t we go down to the lake? It can be as low key or high key as people want, and there are some very pretty places nearby if people would not like to participate in the lake.”

Jaemin nodded, “Sounds fine to me.”

Lena whispered something to you and when they nodded Donghyuck's eyes lit up, “we're in as well.”

The next morning , you decided to make sandwiches for your trip later in the day while everyone cleaned up from breakfast, and then everyone left to go get dressed. Donghyuck put on their bathing suit underneath so he could easily change in and out of it, and grabbed their pair of sunglasses. He went out to the main area of the cabin to gather up the towels.

Taeyong arrived a few moments later, he had a sunhat on with round black sunglasses on. "Is everyone ready?"

Jaemin nodded. "We better go!"

The walk down to the lake was surprisingly calm, it was still morning and the birds were chirping, hidden in the trees, and the occasional butterfly would flutter across their path. The lake was stunning when you arrived. It was a large tranquil body of water which seemed to absorb the sun to show every possible shade of blue, and reflected it at just the right points so the ripples glinted and gleamed.

Donghyuck immediately tore off his shirt and sprinted for the dock as Jaemin and Taeyong followed him. Lena and you sat on the edge of the dock.

In the field there was laughter and joy, the three of them wove crowns and bracelets for each other.

"Why haven't you told him yet?" Lena queried.

You shrugged. "Becuase I'm dumb."

"Yeah, I know," she giggled. "You need to tell him before he realises it."

You sighed. "I'm gonna do it tonight."

She smiled. "Finally!"

"It's so cold." you said hugging yourself tighter.

Donghyuck grinned, scrunching his nose. "If you get in the water you'll get warm."

You rolled your eyes again. "You're not getting me into the lake."

Donghyuck pouted. "You sure, love?" He asked, batting his eyes.

You crossed your arms nodding your head. You didn't notice the way his arms snaked around your legs, having a slightly good hold on you. "I hoped you'd say that." Donghyuck had an evil smile on his face, causing you to look confused.

"I didn't say any- ahh!" Before you knew it, you were pulled into the lake.

When you broke to the surface Donghyuck was already waiting for you. You moved the hair from your face and glared at him. "Hyuck!" You yelled slamming your fists into the water. Donghyuck broke into a laughing fit. You glared at him, crossing your arms and turning away with a small 'Hmph!' Donghyuck was still laughing just a bit, before swimming up behind you. "Aw come on love, you can't be mad at me." He said wrapping his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder. You weren't mad, but you wanted to tease him a bit. "Let go off of me."

"No," you felt him smile on your shoulder before he kissed it.

You giggled and rested your head on his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you." He kissed your cheek. "I love you more than anything, you know?"

"I know," you smiled, caressing his arms . "But I like when you say it."

"I love you," he turned you and kissed you. "I can't wait for you to have my babies."

"Hyuck..." You looked at him. "You need to know something."

"What is it?" He stroked your cheek.

You opened your mouth but Jaemin called you two interrupted. You shook your head. "Let's go before he goes crazy. I'll tell you later."

"Alright, love."

(...)

"Please repeat again why did we need your private jet to come all the way here, Taeyong?" Lena questioned him.

"It was an 8 hour ride. I was not going to drive," He shrugged.

Jaemin laughed. "I could've drove."

"You're not the best at driving," you teased and everyone laughed.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that," Jaemin rolled his eyes.

You all were in a suv on your way to the hangar where Taeyong's private jet was. You were coming back to the city after spending a few days out of town.

You didn't tell Donghyuck that you were pregnant since you weren't alone and when you have time for yourselves, he fell asleep. So you decided to tell him as soon as you two were home. It would be better.

After you arrived at the hangar destination, you got off of the car and grabbed your belongings. All of you went to the airstrip where the jet was already waiting for you. Everyone started to board the plane when Donghyuck let go off your hand. You looked at him. "I think I left my wallet in the car. I'll be right back."

"I'm gonna wait for you here," you say nicely.

He nodded and walked back in the hangar where the black suv was. He found his wallet underneath the pilot's seat and took it. He started walking towards the plane again and smiled when he saw you on the staircase. God, he was so in love with you.

A deafening sound echoed in his ears.

He blinked.

Donghyuck could you see running towards him - almost in slow motion - you were mouthing something and staring at him with fear, pain and… shock in your eyes.

Why were you shocked?

The right side of his chest felt sticky, and cold but warm in the middle. Weirdly warm. But it was not warm, it was hot and it hurt. Not like a punch. It was more like a pinch, that was blossoming into a cramp - a horrible, numbing cramp.

He was feeling light-headed and the cramp in his chest was getting worse. You were getting closer, but the distance between you two was considerable.

Another bang reached his ears a second later, it was loud, deafening, it made his ears ring. He stepped, no, stumbled to the side. Turning his head to see you, the look of acknowledgement and horror on your face.

He felt his blood on his hands, the heat and pain building up in his chest, the warmth of the sun seeping into his back. His knees gave way and he started falling backwards as his hand stretched out towards you.

His head hit the pavement with a startling thud and it felt strangely numb, he could hear you yelling for an ambulance. He blinked, closed his eyes for a second and suddenly you were there above him. You were cradling his face, saying something, tapping his face too hard.

"Hyuck!"

"-pen your eyes!"

"Come on Hyuck Please! Don't do this!"

"Babe, love, Donghyuck! You're okay, you're alright, you're gonna be fine. Please stay with me."

His back arched and he tried to curl onto his side and make the pain go away. His blood was still pouring out of him like a grotesque tap that couldn't be turned off.

"I-I love s-so m-uch. Y-you're t-the b-est t-thing t-that happened t-to m-me" He rambled.

"Don't do that. Don't say goodbye," you spoke, your voice cracking as a few stray tears fell from your eyes.

The blood that was coating his throat started clogging it instead and he couldn't breathe.

"You are going to be fin-" he choked

"It won't" You cut him off. "Hyuck, please. I'm pregnant, we're gonna have a kid. You're gonna be a dad. The best."

He tried to smile and looked at you weakly. "Take c-care o-of t-them, okay? I-I l-love yo-"

He was cut off by the blood in his throat that he coughed out onto his chin. The pain was spreading everywhere and numbing his brain.

And he took his last breath. He was smiling up at you.

“No. No! I’m not losing you! Donghyuck! I just got you! I'm not losing you! I’m not losing you… I’m not losing you.” You cried as you frantically shook him trying to bring him back to life but to no avail.

He was gone.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to marry Donghyuck and raise your kid together. And two stray bullets weren't supposed to have struck in your fiancé's chest.

You weren't supposed to be trembling in front of the small white tombstone etched with the name Lee Donghyuck, but it was happening anyway.

You just wanted him to hold you; to tell you that everything happens for a reason, as he always did. You imagined him wrapping his arms around your waist like he always had, the way you now held yourself, alone.

Furiously wiping the tears from under your eyes,you began to make your way to your real destination from the graveyard. As you opened the door to the small doctor’s office, she gave you a soft sympathetic smile.

“Come on in, let’s see how your little bean is holding up.”

You nodded, sitting on the sturdy table for examinations in the back of the small office. You didn’t really notice the colors on the walls anymore, your eyes skipping over the medical tools meticulously lined up in the doctor’s preference of order.

You were four months along.

“Everything seems to be going well with the baby. But Y/N, you know that you need to eat more. It isn’t safe.”

Safe. That word didn’t seem real to you anymore.

“Are you hearing me? Please, I don’t like you living alone.”

You nodded. "I'll try."

(...)

Time went on. You were slowly running out of tears to cry around the eight month of your pregnancy. You still stopped by the graveyard to say hello to Donghyuck.

When she got back to your house, you found Taeyong parking outside. He had always been kind to you, respecting your space and distance.

“Hey you,” he greeted you smiling.

"Hi," you greeted back.

"I brought you some lunch."

You smiled politely. "Let 's go inside. I'm cold."

You got inside your house and went to the kitchen. Taeyong placed the food containers on the table. "How's the baby?"

"They're fine," you smirked. "Although I get heartburns very easily."

He nodded. "I'm glad you're doing better."

You sighed. "I'm... trying."

"And you know I'm here to help."

"I know."

You suddenly let out a low groan. He turned to you abruptly. “Are you okay, is the baby alright?” Taeyong, with a panicked look on his face.

“Umm, I think...I think I’m having contractions.”

It took a minute for this to process with him. "Okay, okay.. Okay, I'm gonna take you to the hospital? Okay?"

You nodded. "Is too soon, oh My God."

(...)

Taeyong ran his hand through his hair for what seemed like the millionth time as he paced in the waiting room.

He glanced down the hall where he knew your room was. He got called by a nurse. He went to your room and saw you connected to a lot of medical stuff and his heart ached.

You were in pain and when you saw him, you reached for his hand. Taeyong, grabbing your hand not even caring about your tight grip as he kissed your head, sweat be damned.

“(Y/N) ...it’s almost time for you to push, waiting any longer will mean an even greater risk for your baby.”

You nodded but let out a shuddering breath.

As nurses started coming into the room, he pressed another kiss to your head.

“You can do this.” He whispered.

Minutes later, you began to push.

He looked back at the baby girl. She was beautiful. And so small.

Taeyong looked up.

“She’s a fighter, just like his dad..”

Tears filled your eyes again.

Taeyong knew he wouldn't go anywhere, not since he had you all from himself and had gotten rid of Donghyuck.

He smiled, holding the baby. He was a dad.

Alternate ending is finally here !!

[aesterblaster]

The Facility: Chapter One

Ok ok so you know that idea I had about a horror version of blue lock? If you don't then here is where I first put the idea, its second to last on the list. There are going to be some changes from cannon/twists since this is an au but yeah enjoy!

Summary: Isagi and 299 other kids enter blue lock expecting a soccer camp. But the elimination process is more gruesome than they bargained for.

TWs: Blood and injury mention, general horror also an animal attack

Isagi watched with wide eyes as the man on stage finished his speech. "There will be an intense elimination. But the last 30 standing will get a chance to progress and show what they have. That's all for the details. You can leave if you like, but as soon as you go through that door you are unlocking the chance to be the best striker in the world!"

The others around Isagi buzzed with excitement, what could he say. This Ego guy had a way with words. He had never heard of this philosophy, leaving your teammates behind and scoring your own goals? It was crazy! So crazy it just might work. Suddenly a hand raised.

"Hey! Sorry, but I can't agree with what you just said."

It was Kira, the only one here Isagi knew. The other teens stepped back from him as if his bravery was contagious. Ego's eyes narrowed as the star player began attacking the facility. A few people agreed with him. Nodding and shouting out their concerns. Ego only scratched his head, "I see, all of you are really fucked in the head. Then leave."

His harsh words and critiques quickly whipped all the naysayers into shape. But Kira still looked doubtful. The doors whirred open and all 300 kids ran through, including Isagi. What choice did they really have?

If only they knew what was waiting for them, maybe they wouldn't have been so eager.

. . . . 35 minutes later . . . .

Isagi walked through the hall, examining his new uniform. It was sleek but there were a lot of pockets and a chain like wrist band with a red dot. A tracker? Before he could think about it Kira poked his head out a "Team Z" door and waved to him. "Hey there! You're in the same room as me."

"Oh cool." At least there was a familiar face. Isagi scanned the other kids sitting around the room. It was surprisingly dark and there was one big screen on the wall that lit up with the Blue Lock logo after he closed the door. He'd be lying if he said there wasn't a pang of disappointment in his chest at the fact he couldn't socialize before it started. Get to know everyone's strengths and weaknesses.

"Hello everyone. The people around you right now are your team and will be your team for the foreseeable future. This first part is about survival." That wasn't Ego's voice. A shiver went down Isagi's spine. It sounded like a robot and the screen showed no face, only the logo. "Whoever gets injured will not see the next phase."

"What's going on!? I thought we'd be playing soccer, not fucking around playing caveman!" one boy with short hair and eyeliner said, a vein bulging in his forehead. The voice carried on, if it heard him it made no sign.

"Yeah I want to go back home!"

"This is weird, but I think we should listen. Maybe we can get a grip on what's happening.." a player with spiky orange hair muttered. At least there was someone who was being reasonable. Isagi sighed with relief.

"Step one of this phase is water. There is a map in one of the pockets of your suits. Marked in blue are the places with water and marked in black are the places with buckets for the water. The lights will come on after this message is over and you will have to store away as much of it as you can. You never know when the tap will shut off."

There was a sickening laugh from the robotic voice. "If you haven't guessed it already, this isn't Ego or his little assistant. Please only refer to me as Quill. The only way to escape is major injury since the fences and exit doors are wired with electrocution. Showers will happen every other day, but you are not allowed to bring any buckets with you or fight. The discussion on food will happen later. The doors will only be locked when it's time to sleep and trust me you'll need it."

"Good luck."

"What the fuck." Isagi whispered. The lights turned on.

A boy with blue hair already had his map out and spread on the floor. Most of the others were still in shock. "There are buckets near us, someone should go get those."

"Are you seriously going through with this?" Kira shouted. "This is hacked! We have to find some way out. Not play some little death game."

"Do you have any better ideas? He said he'd turn off the water soon right? Oh great Buddha have mercy!" someone whimpered.

"Come on, this is a high tech place." the blue haired one continued. "They'll fix the hacker soon enough and everything will be back to normal. For now let's just go along and not get hurt."

"And introduce ourselves? He said we're going to be together for the foreseeable future right?" it was the guy with spiky hair again.

"Yeah." Isagi spoke up. "Let's do that, it'll help with our nerves."

"Well, I'm going to go get water." someone with long red hair stood up and opened the door. Walking out without another word. The group went around and introduced themselves when he came back with three buckets full. The only one who didn't talk was someone who was asleep on the floor. More of the group went out and soon the corner of the dim room was crowded with buckets of fresh water

"We have water right? We should be stable for now." Iemon reasoned slumping against the wall. "Anyone have any games to pass the time?"

. . . . 22 minutes later . . . .

The more the boys talked with each other the more they relaxed. The guy who was asleep eventually woke up and introduced himself as Bachira. "I heard the whole thing, don't worry." he said with a nervous laugh as he twisted some of his hair around his finger.

The games continued, but there was this nagging sense that disaster would strike any moment. And it did. "You mean there's no fucking water left?" a voice outside Team Z's door boomed. Everyone froze as it got quiet again. Whoever was speaking had others with him because now there were talking in whispers. In deep discussion about what to do probably.

"Maybe we should barricade the door." Naruhaya said quietly.

"Hell no, we should go out there and help them!" Kira, ever the hero, argued.

"Agreed. We have more than enough for us." Kunigami added. No one else spoke up. Isagi wanted too, but it was best to stay put in this situation right? And Kunigami and Kira could handle any negotiations just fine. He'd only be dead weight in that situation.

"What is wrong with you? I can't believe you don't think they deserve help too." Kira adressed the whole room but it felt as if he was staring at Isagi.

"No it's not that it-" Gagumaru couldn't finish before both him and Kunigami left. The whole room waited for them to come back. The silence combined with the terrible lighting covered the room like a thick blanket. There was a scream and some muffled shouting. Was that a dog barking? Ten minutes went by. Kuon convinced everyone to stay put.

"There could be a hundred people out there for all we know! Think logically, those screams could be someone else!" He was right, and the unknown was terrifying. But a pit of guilt still sat in everyone's stomach. Two minutes passed. Fifteen. Twenty. Thirt-

Kunigami opened the door and closed it abruptly, Kiras arm was hoisted over his shoulders and he was groaning in pain. "What happened out there?" Isagi asked tentatively.

"There are other people out there. They look terrible. I think they've been here for weeks. I'll explain more in a second just, get Kira some rest, something. He's badly hurt."

The boys rushed to make a pillow out of the maps in their suits. Kira was laid down gently and quickly passed out. "I have a flashlight in my suit." Imamura said. He took it out and shined the beam on Kira. The arm of his suit was ripped off and his skin had three bite marks that broke the skin.

There was that thick, thick blanket of silence again. Chigiri threw up.

"What the fuck did that!?" Raichi whispered. "What happened?"

"We found a couple of people close to our door who had no water. We started to talk to them and they introduced themselves as Okawa and Niko. Then we heard that fucking voice again, the Quill guy. I dunno how he saw we were in the hallway but he said we weren't supposed to meet each other yet." There was a pause.

"Then he sicked a dog on us, it came bowling through the hallways like it's tail was on fire. Those two ran away but Kira thought it was a hologram or something. It wasn't." He stopped there. There was a mass gasp and cry of shock

"You're telling me Quill has bodyguard dogs?" Bachira asked.

"I guess we shouldn't get on his bad side. That's all. We'll be fine."

"Kira isn't! He's fucking bleeding out what are we gonna do?"

"Maybe he wouldn't be if you didn't go out there? Huh? We could be playing charades right now!"

Igaguri started praying. An argument broke out. Isagi wish he could see who was fighting but they flashed in and out of view. Where was that flashlight anyway? It was a mess.

"Everyone shut the fuck up! Kira is dead!" It was Kuon who spoke up. "I checked his pulse. He's dead. Shock and blood loss I think." Whatever fight was happening stopped as Isagi felt tears well up in his eyes. This couldn't be happening. Everything was moving too fast. Just an hour ago, just an hour ago he had just won the local tournament. And yet here he was, his arm a mangled mess of blood and tattered mesh.

The screen turned on again.

end of chapter one

[svtskneecaps]

Number 17

Vernon Chwe x (gender netural) reader

Words: 5048

Genre: fluff, some pining (does pining count as angst?)

neighbor! childhood friend! aus

you’re feeling the summer listlessness. vernon helps you find something to do

day 35 of a tct summer collab

(holy shit guys i’ve been excited to post this since like, MAY holy shit i hope y’all enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it)

(my masterlist)

You shot him a text. Very simple.

vernon i’m going crazy

He shot a text back. Very simple.

why

why do you think? you ask. i don’t know what to do

it’s summer, he says, you can do anything. for example, i’m lying in bed enjoying myself

it’s 1 pm

it’s summer

Who are you to argue with that?

i’m still going crazy. you might be able to stay in bed all day but i’m gonna go insane

so find something to do

i can’t, you say, because it’s true.

all year you were listing hundreds of things you would do when you got the time

i know, you say, i know. but it’s like, now i have the time, but i just feel paralyzed. i don’t know what to do

And you wait for a response and none comes for long enough that you worry you said something that was too weird even for him, but then your screen goes dark and your phone buzzes and his contact is on screen. You answer and his messy bedhead fills your screen.

“You want me to decide?” he asks, and his voice is rough like he just woke up.

“Sure,” you say.

“Try baking something,” he says. “Like chocolate chip cookies or a pie or something.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to eat it.”

“Absolutely,” he mumbles, face still half buried in his pillow. “I can grab a quick shower and come over just in time for the taste test.”

You snicker. “No way, you don’t have the palette for a taste test.”

“Alright, then I’ll put them in the oven and we’ll hit up a couple friends and force them to try it.”

And. . . honestly that doesn’t sound half bad. It’s been five days since you saw anyone outside your immediate family--which is suffocating in its loneliness, after the routine closeness of the year--and maybe that’ll make you feel less paralyzed.

“Okay,” you say.

True to his word, Vernon’s over within thirty minutes, leaning his bike up against yours in the garage. He handles the oven for you, although not without teasing you about the time you burned yourself on the top of the oven while taking out your grandma’s angel food cake at Christmas.

“Well at least I helped you remember how coordinates work,” you say, because you both knew that was the reason you two learned whether to move on the x or y axis so much faster than your classmates.

“At least I know how to keep my skin intact,” he shoots back.

While taking the tray out of the oven he very nearly blisters his thumb and drops the tray; after securing the tray’s safety and running cold water over the blister, once your heartbeat returns to something acceptable, you inform him that instead of cookies he’ll be eating his words, to which he responds with, “At least my words taste good,” and you snap him with the towel. He flicks water at you, and only the fear of having even more to clean up keeps you from starting all out war. You tell him to bring his swimsuit over tomorrow, though. There’s mischief in his eyes as he agrees.

You each balance a tupperware of cooled cookies on your handlebars as you coast through the neighborhood, knocking on doors and handing them out to friends and friends’ parents. Minghao takes three. Seungkwan’s mother trades you two bottles of water, fresh from the fridge, for a cookie and first dibs on the next batch. She takes another one and says it’s to give to Seungkwan when he gets home from acting camp, but winks when she says it. You snap Seungkwan the picture of his mom with the cookie, and he snaps back a picture of himself and Jun making dorky faces demanding you save a few for them because make no mistake we will be swinging by your house when we’re done for the day and we expect cookies you two!

Jeonghan and Joshua aren’t home, but you find them all hanging out in Seungcheol’s pool. Jeonghan asks why you aren’t selling your cookies. “Because this is the taste test,” Vernon says. “We’ll be getting you hooked on this batch and then start charging ten bucks on the next round.” Jeonghan praises your business sense and takes a bite out of Seungcheol’s cookie while he isn’t looking. Seungcheol tackles him into the pool and you leave before the ensuing splash fight can get the cookies wet.

True to their word, Jun pulls into the driveway with Seungkwan in the passenger’s seat and Mingyu in the backseat (they must’ve agreed to carpool with Mingyu after his cooking workshop), and you get nervous because Mingyu’s going to college for baking and everyone knows that out of the group Mingyu is the best cook, but Vernon presents him with a cookie no hesitation and Mingyu tells you they’re amazing, and Vernon gives you this smile as if to say, see, nothing to worry about.

Wednesday, Vernon comes over with his swimsuit and you make a pair of rudimentary signs for a car wash out of an old cardboard box. His is very simple, bubble letters with the address and CAR WASH in all caps. You tried to get a little creative with yours.

“I love it,” Vernon says, crouched next to you as you hover over your sign. “You can almost hear the cloud cow saying ‘graphic design is my passion’.”

You push his shoulder hard enough that he topples over, laughing. “It’s supposed to be a soapy car!”

He’s so proud of himself for that joke that he suggests you start a car wash company instead of going to college. “You can call it Clean Mooters,” he says, as you’re filling your buckets.

You blast him with the hose and he laughs so hard he snorts.

You spend the day covered in soap and water, spraying Vernon with the hose if there isn’t a car to wash and shrieking and trying to dance around behind him every time he gets the hose from you. When the cars stop coming you pack up shop, uprooting the signs and taking them inside, tossing them in the recycling bin.

Thursday it’s raining outside. Vernon comes over anyway. You call him an idiot. “Don’t you know the rain’ll rust your bike?”

He shrugs with a half smile, shrugging off a raincoat that now has a strip of mud up the back where his tires kicked up the dirty street water. “There’s only a hundred and four days of summer vacation,” he says. “I didn’t want to miss one.”

You seize his coat and toss it in the sink, bowing your head to scrub off the mud so he doesn’t see how red your cheeks have become.

You play Mario Kart on the Wii for most of the day (Vernon hits you with a red shell right before you cross the finish line; you hip check him off Rainbow Road), and even as out of practice as the both of you have become over the school year, you’re still pretty well matched. By the time you get bored with that, your mom has texted to say she’s going to need to stay at work a little longer and you might be on your own for dinner. That’s fine, you and Vernon try out a recipe for lasagna that you found on a food blog (buried under the woman’s lengthy story of the time her husband nearly got stomped by a cow. “It’s a sign,” Vernon says, “Clean Mooters is your true calling.” You’d hit him if you weren’t very carefully adding a layer of sauce).

It’s still raining when Vernon has to leave. You stand there, just outside the cover of the garage, watching Vernon shrug on his raincoat.

“You’re gonna get soaked,” he says.

“You say that like I care,” you say, rain beginning to drip down your hair.

He steps out of the garage then, too, standing next to you. You turn your face to the sky, closing your eyes against the heavy drops that splatter against your cheeks.

“You’re gonna catch your death.”

“Says the guy who’s wearing a raincoat with the hood down.” You shove his chest without looking. He catches your hands. You look down.

Your eyes meet.

Vernon drops your hands and coughs. You reach up to brush the water from your forehead, gaze on the ground as your face burns, despite the cool rainwater still sliding down your cheeks.

“I, um, I should go,” he says.

“Yeah,” you say. “See you.”

He hops on his bike and rides away. The rain falls so hard you lose sight of him before he rounds the corner.

Saturday the whole team gets together at Jeonghan’s house, because he has a firepit. Seungkwan is standing on the picnic table when you ride up, in the middle of a dramatic retelling of some odd thing that happened at acting camp. He appears to be fencing Vernon with an imaginary sword, and you can only imagine the context of that story. You don’t announce yourself, for fear of making one of them fall off, and help Wonwoo get the food from the kitchen. Mingyu is already getting set up at the grill (despite being one of the youngest, he’s the only one any parent trusts near the grill; previous block barbeques have ended in disaster that no one’s eager to repeat). Minghao is by the firepit, holding the lighter very tightly, either to keep it away from Soonyoung or to ensure he’s the one to start the fire.

Seungkwan jumps down from the table when Jihoon tells him to, although he continues telling his story in an enthusiastic yell. Vernon meets your eyes and grins, flicking his eyes at Seungkwan like you’re sharing an inside joke like normal, and you can almost forget that moment in the rain ever happened.

Nearby, Jeonghan is filling a plastic baby pool with water. You ask him what it’s for but he just grins and tells you it’s a secret. When it comes to Jeonghan that’s usually cause for concern, but also you’re itchy inside your skin and all you did Friday was pick out a couple songs on the old piano your great grandmother left your family and no matter what the adventure you’re down for it, so you leave him to it. It’s the first bonfire of the summer. You can handle anything.

They get the fire started before Mingyu finishes grilling, the smell of the meat wafting over the yard and making your stomach rumble. Unfortunately, they misjudged the wind direction and half of the chairs are directly in the path of the smoke. There’s a lot of complaining as people rush to shift their chairs out of the way. Vernon ends up next to you in the scramble. You aren’t complaining; now you get to tease him about the way he seasons his food and he’ll tease you back about your tendency to drown your burgers in ketchup.

(except you don’t; you eat quietly and neither of you bring up the other’s habits and somewhere deep down that scares you)

When the sun goes down, Jeonghan and Joshua bring out the alcohol, and everyone who’s old enough drinks.

The baby pool, Jeonghan says, is for the losers of the tournament. The tournament, he says, is simple. And for pairs.

The first challenge is a wheelbarrow race down the street. You thought you and Vernon had a pretty good chance of winning, but then, by some divine magic, Jihoon and Mingyu shoot off and cross the finish line miles before everyone else. Half the group calls bologna because come on they’ve got just about the biggest height difference between them, out of everyone, but Joshua was reffing the starting line and didn’t see any false starts; they won fair and square.

The second challenge is hula hooping. You don’t have much hope for your score, not because you’re bad at hula hooping, but because you’re bad at hula hooping when Vernon is right next to you and also hula hooping. You end up laughing so hard that you lose your hoop within three spins, but in the end it doesn’t matter, because Vernon can carry the team score to victory.

“Who needs eight years of gymnastics?” he asks, and you beam.

The third challenge is a ‘who knows their partner the best’ challenge. Jeonghan put together a list of questions, which he and Joshua list off and give time for each partner to write down both their answer and what they think their partner put. You’re a little scared; you’ve known Vernon for as long as you can remember but sometimes you wonder if you really know him like you think you do. The questions aren’t so bad, simply asking what your partner’s favorite clothing brand is, or what time they get up in the morning, or what they think of pineapple on pizza. You breeze through the questions, until the last one. Joshua lists the final question, which member of the group is their favorite?

Your answer is simple enough, but you aren’t sure of his. Sure, you partnered up, but Seungkwan had all but thrown himself directly at Wonwoo when Jeonghan sent you off to partner and you knew Vernon and Seungkwan had known each other long before you had talked to anyone in the neighborhood or gone to a barbeque or slotted yourself into the dynamic of the block, and you knew he and Joshua had a special sort of friendship because of their similar heritage and you just didn’t know for sure what he would put (especially after the strange moment in the rain; you weren’t sure what it meant and you weren’t sure you wanted to know).

Eventually you write Seungkwan’s name on the sheet and hand the paper to Jeonghan when he comes around to collect. You fidget with your fingers as they tally up the scores. Next to you, Seokmin hops up to either get into a passionate debate with Soonyoung over what his true favorite movie is or to maybe just tackle Soonyoung into the grass. Either way, Vernon slides into his empty chair.

“So what’d you put for number seven?” he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly what he means. “Clean Mooters,” you say.

He pumps his fist. “I knew you’d see the light eventually!”

“Well I did get the most tips,” you tease.

“Well of course,” he says, “you’re the best looking, it’s only natural.”

Jeonghan calls out that they’ve tallied up the scores before you can process the full implications of that sentence.

You win that round too. Joshua hands the sheets back, and you carefully fold yours and shove it in your pocket.

You play a few more rounds: the chubby bunny challenge (Mingyu crammed an ungodly amount of marshmallows in his mouth, you almost wanted to go to church after seeing that; he kept going even after he won, until he almost choked and Joshua shut him down), the perfect s’more challenge (which you suspect was just an excuse for Jeonghan to get s’mores without having to make them; Mingyu’s first marshmallow slid off his stick, and the second caught fire; Seungcheol and Chan ended up winning and Seokmin called nepotism), the long jump (Soonyoung got overexcited and misjudged his landing; he landed hard on the cement and although he was totally fine, he would ask Jeonghan at random intervals for bonus points because of his injury with a shit eating grin all the while), and finally, a game of hide and seek.

The hide and seek rules are simple; they’ve been the same since you were old enough to be outside after sunset: don’t go off the block, don’t go inside, don’t leave your partner, and don’t use a light. The tournament judges give you thirty seconds head start. You and Vernon take off down the street and the thrill of the game sings through your bloodstream.

“Think they’ll think to look for us up Mrs. Boo’s tree?” Vernon asks as you run.

“Yeah, you remember Seungcheol did that once and Jeonghan’s never forgotten it, it’s the first place he’ll look.” You pass Chan and Seungcheol as they try to conceal themselves behind the Christmas decorations that Mr. Wilkinson still hasn’t taken down. “Mrs. Kim’s porch?”

“No, she’s got her light on.”

You skid to a halt at the end of the street, chests heaving, both casting around for a hiding space. Down the street, Joshua is beginning to yell, counting down from 10. Vernon tugs your sleeve, and points.

You grin.

Moments later, you resettle the plastic lid onto the box, burying yourselves carefully under the tarp inside and setting a few bricks on your backs for good measure. Mr. Lee is upgrading his yard this summer, and one addition is planned to be a brick footpath, and thankfully he left the tote of bricks out where you could get to it. Holding the tarp firmly in place, with the bricks above you for insurance, if they open the tote and decide to slap the tarp, you would just feel like a full box of footpath bricks.

Perfect.

Of course, it’s a pretty small space and you and Vernon have to lie pretty close to one another in order to fit, and your foot presses against his shin and his elbow is in your stomach, but if you lay there and don’t breathe, you’ll have the game in the bag.

“So,” Vernon says, voice so soft it’s sometimes hardly more than a breath, “what’d you put for number seventeen?”

You think back. “Vernon there was no number seventeen.”

“No?” he asks, with a tone like he’d always known. “Guess I’ll have to make one up.”

You snort, very softly. In the distance, yelling breaks out; Soonyoung and Seokmin just got found.

“How do you feel about long distance relationships?” he asks, so softly you nearly miss it.

Your heart skips a beat. You’re pretty sure he’s implying something but you aren’t sure if it should scare you or not. “I think they’re hard,” you say carefully. “Not impossible. But it takes work from both sides. So it’s hard.”

You hear him inhale like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t, and you feel the breeze from his exhale on your face. Neither of you speak, and you aren’t sure if it’s because you’re listening hard for the seekers or because you have nothing left to say.

The lid of the tote scrapes. You stop breathing. Jeonghan says something above you, drowned out by the beating of your heart. He pulls the lid off, and the moonlight filtering through the pinholes in the tarp might as well be a searchlight after the darkness.

Vernon’s face is inches from yours.

You blink, feeling like your eyelashes will brush his face with the motion. They don’t. Jeonghan pokes the tarp, hitting one of the bricks lying on your side. Apparently satisfied, he closes the lid. His footsteps recede.

Vernon’s face is still burned into your eyes like a sunspot.

He was staring at your lips.

You end up losing hide and seek, despite your perfect spot, because Minghao and Jun somehow managed to get onto Jeonghan’s roof (nobody’s managed to guess how and the pair smugly refuse to tell). The tournament ends with only Seungkwan and Wonwoo having not won any challenges. They change into swimsuits and dunk themselves in the baby pool, and then sprint back across the lawn to their towels yelling about the cold (you put a finger in; it wasn’t nearly as bad as when Jeonghan had filled it).

Vernon stops you before you get on your bike to get home.

“I’m. . . gonna be out of town for a couple weeks,” he says, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I can still facetime, but probably only in the mornings and evenings.”

“Okay,” you say, even as your heart sinks (he’s never been away this long).

“Yeah,” he says, and you stand there beside your bikes, looking at each other, like you’re both a little lost in what to do. His eyes keep flicking to your lips.

“So what’d you put for number seventeen?” you ask softly.

He doesn’t hesitate. “I think it could work,” he says, voice as soft as it was in the tote, and you find yourself leaning in to listen. “Easily, even, if it was someone as special as--”

He goes quiet. “As?” you prompt.

He shakes his head. “Someone special,” he says.

You haven’t drank at all but something still buzzes in your veins. It’s the first Saturday bonfire of the summer, and moon floats above the horizon like a glowing balloon, and a warm breeze caresses your skin, and you don’t feel afraid of anything.

“I guess it could work easy,” you say, “if it was someone like you.”

He stares at you long enough that you think maybe you overstepped and your cheeks start to heat and you duck your head and step back with something like an apology and--

--his lips crash into yours.

You don’t know if the kiss lasts for three seconds or three hours. All you know is when you break for breath, you find yourself caught in his eyes, the same familiar deep brown as you’ve seen for years growing up through schools and summers and camps and sleepovers, lying on the floor of the living room and whispering about movies and grades like they were the most important thing in the world.

And then you blink and the world unfreezes and he mumbles something about a curfew and you mumble something about your mom and as if pulled by the same strings you mount your bikes and pedal off in opposite directions.

You lie awake for hours, thinking about his eyes.

You facetime at any and all available hours. You find yourself staying up later to be able to catch him on a lunch break. And it’s hard, but you do it. Because, look, everyone on the block has known that his parents want him to go to Korea for college, and that he wants to go to Korea for college. For years you’ve known this moment was coming. And he’s only going to be there a couple weeks for some kind of tour he landed because his grandmother knows a guy who knows a gal who’s related to a guy who used to babysit for the guy on the school board, or something, and then he’ll come back and you can spend the remainder of the summer doing whatever.

Until then, you’re content to wake up earlier just to get an hour chatting with him before he goes to sleep. You show him all the pages you’ve marked in your mom’s old recipe book and tell him when he gets back you’ll make a couple and sell them for profit. You draw an official logo for Clean Mooters, and he suggests you add a restaurant as a side business that you two could run for extra profit. “Clean Mooters and Good Burgers,” he says, and then says, “No that’s terrible. I’ll keep thinking.”

“Are you the whole Clean Mooters marketing team?” you ask.

“Of course,” he says. “We both know all the business sense went to me.” And he smiles and you forget how to breathe.

You don’t talk about the kiss.

One time, he calls you, and your eyes swoop to check the time, because you know it’s crazy late where he is. You answer.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says before you get a word out, and his voice is hoarse and it twists your stomach. “Can you-- just tell me about your new project?”

And you do; you’ve taken up crochet this week and your grandma gave you a couple pointers and you do your best calming ASMR voice as you repeat her pointers and what you plan to do to build your skill, and then end up going off on a tangent on whether Clean Mooters should have a gift shop selling cow merchandise (“It would make sense, there are a lot of cows around here.”) and when you pause to recollect your thoughts, all you hear is his quiet breathing.

The day Vernon’s set to return is a Thursday, which is perfect, because it gives him time to recollect himself before the Saturday bonfire, which will be the real welcome back party. On Thursday, you and the other kids on the block draw all over the street and then, when his flight is late and the sun goes down before he gets to the street, assemble to hold flashlights over the really good stuff. You only see his smile for a few brief seconds as the car goes past, but it’s enough to make your heart swell.

Friday you wake up to a knock on your bedroom door. “Hey, up and at ‘em, it’s noon!” Vernon calls through the door.

You groan and throw an arm over your face. “Says the guy who was still in bed at one pm that whole first week!”

“Yeah, and it was heaven. Come on, you get up fast enough and I’ll buy you a donut.”

You get dressed and meet him downstairs. “Try that again and I’ll convince my mom to rehide the spare key,” you threaten.

He just grins. “I’d be able to find it.” He picks up your bike helmet. “You want to get out of the neighborhood with me?”

You’d rob a bank if it was with him. “Absolutely.”

It’s a rush to be back on your bike, both of you pedaling faster and faster to try to be in front, weaving around the cars parked on the streetside and hopping the curb just to prove you can. Last week’s project was learning to ride a bike no handed and you show off the new skill as often as you can.

You go everywhere and nowhere. You hit up the mall and he buys you a donut and you wander the halls window shopping, and he buys a whole rainbow set of tinted glasses just because they looked cool; you break open the package the minute you own them and check out your reflection in the store window.

“We look ridiculous,” you say, adjusting the red pair so they sit better on your face.

“Speak for yourself,” Vernon says, turning to see himself from different angles. “I think purple’s exactly my color.”

You shove the blue pair on over the red, even though they barely fit on your nose, and stick your tongue out at him. “There, now we match.”

He puts on another pair of glasses and it turns into a competition of who can wear the most, and then into who can wear the most without getting a headache. That second winner was Vernon, but you won the first half.

You hit up the McDonalds in the food court and get the large cup for a dollar, and then go down the drink machine and hit it with just a quick blast of each, repeated over and over until the cup was full. It tastes like a mess of conflicting sugars and syrups. You drink the whole thing through separate straws. You can’t stop glancing at his lips. Your faces are so close.

You get ice cream and sit under the bridge over the creek to eat it, watching the sun go down somewhere downstream, listening to the cars whizzing past overhead.

“I missed you,” Vernon says.

“I missed you too,” you say, even though that doesn’t convey the half of it.

“During the school year--” He stops, and you glance over to see him staring into the sunset, his ice cream melting toward his fingers.

You take his free hand. “It’ll be hard, not being close for so long,” you say. “But-- we could do it. I’m not just going to stop talking to you because I have classes and-- you know how my sleep schedule gets during the year.”

He laughs, softly, lacing your fingers together. “I’ll be able to call and tell you to go to bed without you turning it on me.”

“Damn.” You scowl at your feet. “Didn’t think about that. You sure you can’t just go to Europe instead?”

“Nope,” he says. “You’re going to have to find a new defense.”

You sigh. “But Vernon that one’s worked since we were fourteen.”

“It never worked!”

“Yes it did because then it got you on the defensive instead!”

“But you still went to sleep when I hung up, didn’t you?”

Double damn. He’s right and you know he knows it, from the raised eyebrow look he’s giving you as he catches the ice cream that’s melting around the edges of his cone.

“. . . That’s entirely beside the point.”

He just grins. You bury your face in your ice cream cone, trying to devour the rest in a single bite to avoid the urge to pout. Of course, all that really does is get ice cream all over your face, but whatever. When you look back at him, he’s still looking at you, his eyes soft and fond and damn but you’re going to miss him like a lung when he’s gone.

“You’ve got a little something there,” he says, and you make a face at him to maybe hide how very obviously whipped you are and do your best to wipe it off with the pile of napkins you snatched.

“Better?”

“No, it’s still--” and he scoots in, and you both go really quiet as he wipes the ice cream from your cheek. His thumb traces your lip.

“You know,” you say, very softly, “if you wanted to kiss me you could’ve just asked.”

His eyes blink up to meet yours, and red tints his cheeks, but he still smiles. “Okay,” he says. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah.”

Your ice cream melts. (“It’s okay,” Vernon says, “I’ll buy you another.”)

[matildashoney]

London Town

Loving You’s the Antidote Extra

MASTERLIST // MOODBOARD // TAG LIST // TAGS // PLAYLIST

TAG LIST: @ihearthemcallingforyou, @goldenfeelin, @detroitkiwis

talk to me about it!

thank you miss @berrynarrybanana​ for creating the sex bucket list fic challenge! i wanted to write something with the mile high club for harry and ames a while ago and this gave me every opportunity to do so. this is pure filth about harry and amelie getting back to london recently after being stuck in malibu during the quarantine.

warning: this is literally 4.4k of filth. i can’t be sorry for what my brain has done. i take no responsibility.

Harry is guarded, to say the least. There was too much happening for him not to be.

One of the security guards that was driving them to the airport got out with Amelie first, making sure that there weren’t any photographers waiting outside for them (which there shouldn’t be, all things considered) and having her get inside to wait for Harry when he was able to get all their luggage and out of the car. Harry was nervous, his hoodie tugged over his head and his passport and identification all sitting in his hoodie pocket. Amelie was wearing the hoodie they bought at a Spice Girls concert the year before, but it was beginning to fit a big snuggly around her tummy and they knew that anyone that saw them would start pregnancy speculations before they could even begin trying to have a baby themselves. Her hand grabs his as soon as he walks beside her, interlocking their fingers and hiding her face in his chest, the exhaustion beginning to set in and the bruising on her hips from the needles beginning to ache as she stands for much too long without rest.

Harry guides them through security, his heart breaking as Amelie knuckles her eyes and desperately clings to her last bit of energy and pouts as his bag gets checked once more and she isn’t able to sink into his embrace as she wants. Considering the amount of time Harry and Amelie have spent together in quarantine, it would have made more sense that they need space, when in fact, Amelie has never been clingier. Not that Harry pays any mind to it. He knows that it’s with the best intentions, all because she loves him and is happy to be with him. Her hormones are messy with the new birth control she was trying, as well, with all intentions to perhaps make her body ready to be pregnant later in the year. All Amelie wanted was a good snuggle a very hefty amount of the day. Harry was happy to give that to her.

Los Angeles International Airport is surprisingly empty, Harry thought there would have been more celebrities trying to get back to wherever they’re from now that flights are slowly beginning to depart again – not that they really should be. Harry is excited to get back to England, London particularly. Amelie, although her heart is in love with California, misses London, misses home. All of the exhibition pieces that she was working on were left there, and for nearly four months her creativity was dry and there was nothing she could think of. Harry misses his family, his home. He even misses Tigger, especially now that he’s been staying with Anne for nearly six months. Harry misses their routine. Amelie misses the comfort of being home.

Malibu is home in a lot of ways.

Malibu is where they said the three words for the first time. Malibu is where they got engaged. Malibu is where they got married on a whim. All of Amelie’s family is nearby and their best friends and godchildren are only a fifteen-minute drive away. Mostly, it’s being together that makes it feel like home. Home is so subjective. To Harry, after travelling for so many years, unsteady relationships, the media overwhelming him with labels and rumours and the way his mental health suffered, Amelie really became the one thing that made the most sense, that made him feel safe. To Amelie, with all that she went through, the idea that someone could make you feel like home was absolutely mad, and there was a nagging voice that always told her she wouldn’t find it, and then Harry waltzed into her life and simply knocked every single thought she had about her life into another world; Harry made her feel as though there was nothing that she couldn’t do, and maybe he was right about that. Home was with each other, no matter where they are or where they go.

Harry squeezes Amelie’s hand, the engagement ring and wedding band ice on his skin. He smiles though, the feeling that the symbol gives him making his eyes sting with tears. He sniffles, drawing her attention and her eyebrows furrowing together in confusion. He shakes his head, kissing her hairline and nodding to the near-empty terminal that was about to board their flight.

“’ey,” Amelie whispers, brushing her thumb under his eye and moving the mask slightly to kiss his cheek, “you okay?”

“Thought about how we’re married and got all,” Harry mutters, his nose in her hair and laughing to himself. “Don’t know, guess m’heart is softer, now.”

“Always has been, baby,” she smiles, laying her thighs over his legs and cuddling into his chest, her eyes falling shut as he gently rubs her back. “Think they’ll yell at us for laying in the same bed, again?”

“Don’t think so since everyone has to stay away,” he mumbles, taking in the way the ten other passengers for the flight are wearing masks and gloves. “Can’t wait to be home and don’t have to wear this thing.”

“Meaning you’re gon’a be naked in the garden most days and dragging me out with you.”

Harry snickers, meeting Amelie’s knowing stare and shrugging his shoulders, “As long as you’re naked, too.”

“Don’t try your luck, Mr Styles,” Amelie sighs, squeezing his hips as his thumb dips beneath the waistband of her leggings. “Harry.”

“Didn’t wear any knickers.”

“Je ne voulais pas qu'ils me montent au cul pendant douze heures,” she whispers under her breath, trying to avoid the entire terminal hearing that her decision this morning was to go without any knickers on an eleven-hour flight.

Harry smirks, tugging his mask to his chin and pressing his lips to the shell of her ear, “Tu essaies d'entrer dans le club du mile high, chérie?” For a man that slept maybe three hours, Harry is awfully horny at barely four in the afternoon.

Amelie lightly smacks his hand as his fingers inch towards her inner thigh, coming dangerously close to her centre. “Harry, I swear to God.”

“Oh, it could be fun, Ames.”

“Ah, yes, because you,” Amelie’s voice lowers to a whisper that even Harry can barely hear, “fucking me in our seats in first-class sounds like so much fun when we could get caught.”

“’s the thrill of it all, baby.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t use the baby card,” she says warningly, her eyes narrowing at the man she loves with her whole heart, trying to convey her seriousness. Her thighs clench around his hand, a near-death grip to break his movements where his fingertips would brush over her heat.

“Need those fingers, Cherry.”

“Don’t stick your hands in my leggings, then.” Harry smirks at Amelie. “That doesn’t mean you find a loophole and stick your hand over my fanny either, thank you.”

“Mean, technically I’m not over your fanny.” Harry laughs so loudly, the entire terminal turns to face him. “Need you to tell me when the hell you started calling it that, though. Taking to all the slang now that you’re half a Brit, huh.”

“Much less aggressive than calling it my,” Amelie whispers, “cunt. Don’t you think?”

“Quite like calling it that,” he shrugs, weaselling his hand further up her thigh, nearly holding her heat in his palm. “’s mine to call anything, you know.”

“Oh,” she snorts, shaking her head and lightly pushing his shoulder and smirking when he grabs her hand with his other hand, kissing her palm with a smirk. “Is that how marriage works? Don’t think that was on the document we signed.”

“Mean, as far as I’m aware. Got like,” Harry hums, pretending to count on his fingers the number of months since they’d gotten married in March, “three months under m’belt. ‘s kinda like how you say you want my cock in your mouth.”

“Harry, quit it. There are people around.”

“Half of them would need a hearing aid to hear me, honey.”

Amelie shakes her head, “Whipping your best terms of endearment isn’t making me any more inclined to have sex on the plane.”

“Hate to break it to you, angel, but you saying, fanny, doesn’t really give me an inclination to stick my hand in your pants, anyways.”

“Good,” she says, wrapping her hand around his wrist and moving it away, interlocking their fingers and grabbing their bags to walk to the desk to board. “Not to mention, it’s barely four in the afternoon.”

“Oh, time is a social construct, baby. Isn’t that what you say when you’re begging for it in the morning before I have get on a flight out somewhere?” Harry whispers in her ear, smiling at the flight attendant and handing his phone for the boarding passes.

Amelie releases Harry’s hand, tugging her sweatshirt sleeves over her fingers and crossing her arms over her chest. “I hate you.”

Harry smirks, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and kissing her head, his phone stuck in the front of his The Face sweatshirt that Amelie threw onto the bed for him to wear while he was sleeping. “No, you really don’t.”

“Welcome,” one flight attendant says through their mask, oblivious to the sexual tension spurring in between the freshly married couple and the way her hand was holding his simply to ensure that he wouldn’t squeeze her breast with his hand hanging limply over her shoulder.

Harry steps inside the row first, and Amelie knows why he’s hiding in the seat that would be the least likely to be seen by the flight attendants. Her head shakes with a sigh, heaving a breath and settling into the chair, giving a warning glance to him as his lips toy with a mischievous grin.

“Garder les mains pour soi.”

“Can’t keep m’hands to m’self for eleven hours,” Harry stresses, his cheek laying on her shoulder as he stares at her through hooded eyelids, the separator pushed away to allow him to cuddle into her, the way her nails are scratching at his scalp making him want her more.

“Harry, yes, you can,” Amelie says, knowing that Harry is trying to wear her down with the dramatic nature of the conversation. Her thighs are warm thinking about the adrenaline that would course through her veins by having sex where they very well shouldn’t be, but with the environment being heavily closed away from interaction, maybe this was just the right time to do so.

Amelie wouldn’t admit that to Harry, though. No. Because that means he won.

“Haven’t touched you in like, three days.”

“Because we had to get all of our things together, see our godchildren, and see my family. Not because I didn’t want to.”

“Alright, well, now we have eleven hours.”

Amelie sighs, carding her fingers through her hair and gently pulling out the tie in her curls and letting the baby pink fall over her shoulders. Through her peripheral vision, she can see Harry roll his eyes, trying to look away as she tugs on the sleeves on the sweatshirt, gently pulling the material away and leaving his eyes to bask over the loose-fitting shirt from his closet and her chest free from any restrictions.

“For fuck’s sake, Amelie,” Harry groans, sitting up and beginning to pull his mask away from his mouth, all the passengers boarded and the flight attendants beginning to go through the safety measures as he’s heard a million times before. “Did you not wear a bra, either?”

“Like you said, eleven hours,” she shrugs, a smirk playing at her lips as she set the sweatshirt over her thighs, dragging the blanket over her body, locking his hand between her legs.

“Know just how to get what you want, huh?”

“Maybe,” she hums, spreading her thighs the slightly amount to give him the ability to roam further across her skin. “Have had quite a few years of practice.”

Harry smirks, taking Amelie by surprise and sliding his hand beneath the waistband of her leggings, her thighs unable to be held together as his fingers drag slowly and teasingly across her mound. “About, five years, huh, baby?” Amelie gulps. “Don’t go quiet on me, now. Have had the wittiest comebacks for an hour and now you’re quiet?”

“Harry,” she says through a clenched jaw, trying her swallow back a moan as his fingers delicately trace along her core, arousal collecting on his fingertips as his finger draws over her clit lightly, barely touching her skin. “Either you do it or you don’t.”

“Do you want me to?” Harry smirks, lips ghosting across the shell of her ear and making her sink further into her seat, her thumb between her teeth as she nods shamelessly. “Amelie Fay, tell me what you want or I’m going to take my hand back.”

Harry rarely uses Amelie’s whole name. And by rarely, Amelie means that Harry only uses her whole name – first and middle – when they’re arguing and she won’t listen (which is most of the time) or they’re about to do something filthy and she won’t give verbal consent (which is most of the time they’re taking to exhibitionism). But whenever Harry uses it, fuck, it’s another type of sexy. His accent draws out every syllable, especially when he’s trying to use an accent that her mother has or it’s deeply his own.

Amelie sucks in a deep breath, trying to steady her breathing and not melt into the chair with the barely-there movements of his fingertips, his middle finger teasing her warmth by dipping in to collect more arousal over her clit. “Okay, okay.”

“Okay, what.”

“Need you to use your fingers,” she sighs, his fingers beginning to ease into her warmth and brush against the velvet that squeezes him in. “Fuck.”

“Be quiet,” Harry says strictly, his cheek laying on her shoulder and his lips touching the cut of her jaw. “Have barely touched you and you’re already squeezing me, doll. Maybe I should’ve tried a bit harder to get you into bed, hm? Have I been neglecting you? Horrible husband, you have.”

Harry and Amelie never could describe their sex life as neglected – certainly not that – but it definitely was not what it was when they first got married at the beginning of March. Harry and Amelie tiptoed around the subject because there were days when there was too much frustration to even think about getting naked and sharing their thoughts with the other person. That definitely isn’t what want they wanted, what they promised each other. And so, here they were, three months into the isolation and just being able to go home, and there was a desperation lingering between them that neither really knew was there. Getting comfortable was something they didn’t want, and that’s exactly what they did.

His fingers work at a speed that could only be described as desperate and longing. His thumb pressed against her clit with patterns that have her hips longing to writhe beneath him, his middle and third finger curling inside of her with every thrust, taking a second to ghost across the spot that would have her screaming inside their bedroom.

“Baby, please,” Amelie whimpers, tucking her face into his hair and breathing out through parted lips, squeezing her eyes shut as the flight attendant walks through the aisle, completely unsuspecting of what is happening beneath the linen. “Harry.”

“All over me, honey. Gi’ me all of it.”

Amelie tugs on Harry’s curls, earning a smirk and a grateful kiss, swallowing her moans as the orgasm ripples through her body. Her hands shaking as she grasps onto the blanket and her hot breaths hitting his neck. His hand is coated with her orgasm, his mouth watering at the thought of her taste on his tongue.

If Harry couldn’t go down on her, right now, this is the next best option.

“Get out the fruit and water from your bag.”

“Huh?” Amelie whispers, her eyes barely opening to try and read Harry’s expression. “For what?”

“For you to drink,” Harry smiles, kissing her hairline sweetly. “And so, I can stick my fingers in m’mouth and it won’t look like I just fucked you under the blanket.”

“Christ, Harry,” she mutters, rolling her eyes as he chuckles under his breath. “Do you realise you still have your fingers in me?”

“And?”

“Can’t lean over and grab everything with you puncturing my cervix.”

“Don’t flatter me that much, baby,” Harry quips, nodding towards the bag laying at her feet and gently tapping his thumb against her clit once more. “Already have a big head.”

“Hate you,” Amelie swallows, trying to control her breathing as she leans forward and reaches for her bag, Harry’s fingers wiggling inside her warmth. He is just as needy as she is, at the moment, except, Amelie would rather wait until they are home and can’t be caught. “Here.”

“But, baby, I know you don’t.” He chastely kisses her cheek, gently taking his fingers from her warmth and slowly removing his hand from her pants, pouting his lips, “My hand is cold, now.”

“Unfortunate,” she shrugs, taking a long sip from her water as his tongue licks along his palm, his two fingers suckled between his lips and tasting all that he’s missed in nearly four days. He isn’t used to going that long. Maybe, he’s a bit spoiled in that regard. Harry and Amelie are running on the same sex drive at all times. Call it inspirational in some respects. Amelie has found it quite useful in the exhibitions recently. Harry finds that flattering.

“Quit being a brat,” Harry teases, squeezing her knee over the blanket and standing on his feet, nodding towards the bathroom a few feet away. “Have to wash my hands. Got a bit messy.”

Amelie shakes her head, wiggling around in her seat and shrugging her sweatshirt over her torso, settling under the blanket and laying over the chair, waiting for Harry to get back and cuddle into. Harry smiles at the sight, wiping his hands over his sweatpants and manoeuvring around her legs and settling into his seat. His arms open wide, graciously accepting Amelie as she climbs over into his seat and lays in the reclined bed with him, tucking her face into his neck. “Hi.”

“Hi, Cherry.”

“Can’t wait to go home,” she whispers, yawning as his fingertips drag through her hair. “Miss home.”

“Know you do,” he says, kissing her temple and bringing the blanket tighter over her body. “Me too.”

“Need a really good night of sex, too. Or day. I’m not picky.”

Harry snorts, “Have our other nights not been satisfactory to you?”

“Always the best with you. Don’t worry,” Amelie smirks, kissing his jaw and breathing in his cologne. “Different when we’re home, though. Don’t care about anything or anyone. Can just do it wherever, whenever. Don’t have to worry about my parents or sister, or our friends coming and knocking on our door.”

“Love your sister,” Harry says, his voice hanging on the last word, “but she is the biggest cock block in the entire world.”

Amelie laughs so loudly into Harry’s chest that the flight attendant peers over his novel. “God, you’re right.”

“Need to just be alone with m’missus for a while.”

Her voice is quiet, once again, barely above a whisper as she begins to fall asleep nuzzled into his warmth. “Alright.”

His eyebrows furrow together in confusion. “No argument? No rebuttal?”

“Not today.”

Harry laughs breathily, shaking his head and kissing her hair, his hands dragging along her spine as she drifts asleep. He stays awake until nearly eleven, waking her to eat and watching a film on his phone until they’ve fallen back asleep together, only waking to the sound telling them to buckle their seatbelts and settle into landing. Harry can see the relief on Amelie’s face, the smile that sits permanently on her lips as the pilot welcomes them to England and Heathrow Airport.

Amelie nearly forgets their luggage when Harry pulls into the garage, rushing inside to see Tigger and breathe in the scent that is permanently a mark of their London home. He tugs in their bags, setting the mickey mouse printed luggage in the foyer and wrapping his arms around her waist, kissing her neck sweetly and nosing her hair away from her skin.

“Fuck, ’m happy to be home.”

“Know you are,” Harry smiles, gently biting her neck and licking over the red mark lingering on her skin. His hands squeeze her thighs, lifting her onto his hips and wrapping his arms under her ass, his eyes rolling as their cat begins to rub along his legs. “Not the time, Tigger.”

“He missed you.”

“Flattered, but not really the time. Quite missed shagging m’wife, so that’s the priority at the minute.”

“That sounds really sexy coming from your mouth,” Amelie hums, dragging her thumb over his plump lips.

“Hm?” Harry asks, carefully making his way up the stairs and shoving their bedroom door open, careful to make sure that their cat would not be in the way when the door closed behind him. He became way too good at carrying her up the stairs when they moved in two years ago.

“My wife.”

Harry snickers, walking straight into the bathroom and turning on the light with his elbow, setting Amelie on the counter and harshly pressing his lips to hers. “’s what you are, m’wife.”

“Can’t wait to have this on me,” Amelie smirks against his cheeks, her fingertips dragging along his beard as Harry tugs their sweatshirts and shirt off their bodies. “First place you’re going to have sex with me in our house is the shower.”

“Know you better than that to think you’ll let me on the clean sheets after we were just on a plane for twelve hours.”

Amelie giggles, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and tugging him into her, his arms circling her waist and his tongue tasting her lips, her tongue, her. “Know me well.”

“Hope so after five bloody years.”

“Go turn the water on.”

Harry nods eagerly, walking away and turning the water in the shower, the waterfall faucet sprinkling water over him as he tugs on his sweatpants tie. His head rolls back as two hands skirt along his naked torso, dancing dangerously close to where he wants them most, his cock already painfully hard between his thighs.

“Don’t tease me, now.”

“Am I not allowed to have a taste, either? ‘s been four days, remember?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry moans, squeezing his eyes shut as Amelie’s hands bring his sweatpants over his ass and thighs, her gently hand tugging teasingly over his shaft. “Get in the bloody shower, woman.”

Amelie laughs, taking Harry’s hand and stepping inside the shower, the steam already beginning to fog over the glass doors. His back hits the tile wall, a gasp leaving his lips as she sinks to the ground, her knees printed with the tile, her tongue dragging over the arousal wetting his tip. He moans, the sound spurring her on, his hand running through her hair as she wraps her fingers around his base and begins sucking on his cock, all of him surrounded by her tongue and her wet lips and her warmth.

His stomach tightens, nearly spilling his entire orgasm down her throat. His whimpers as she pulls away makes her laugh, his eyes barely open before he’s helping her stand and grabbing her thigh to wrap around his waist, his cock sliding deep inside her warmth without warning. Her forehead falls to his collarbone, the sensation overwhelming and deeply missed. Her nails dig into his shoulders, their kisses messy and sloppy as his thrust reaches every inch into her core, his thumb drawing shapes around her clit the way he knows she loves.

“Missed this so much,” Amelie moans, her fingers tugging at his curls and bringing his mouth to hers. “Can’t go that long again.”

“Fucking swear on m’life,” Harry grunts, the way his cock is driving into her making her lift onto her toes. “Gi’ me your leg.”

“Do you want to fall over?”

“Trust me.”

Amelie wraps her legs around Harry’s waist, sighing when her back hits the cold tile that is out of the water’s reach, a gasp leaving her lips as his shaft sits deeper inside her warmth.

Harry is grunting mercilessly into her neck, Amelie’s moans echoing inside the bathroom, and to anyone that doesn’t know them, they might have thought that they’d not seen each other for a month, maybe two, with how intense their orgasms spill onto each other. Her thighs shake around his waist, their orgasms dripping out of her and onto his legs as he holds her, making sure that she wouldn’t fall.

And their shower isn’t devoid of more touching and kissing, in fact, the water goes cold before they’re fully finished washing up and rinsing the shampoo and conditioner from their hair.

Harry watches Amelie change intensely, soaking in the way she’s never changed the way she looks in their time together – except for the new three tattoos – the way she’s never felt the need to. Harry adores every curve and tattoo and mark and dimple, especially when she’s naked and he’s touching her skin.

“Can you look away for maybe two seconds?”

“No,” Harry deadpans, laying his hands behind him on the bed, the towel still loosely covering his waist.

“Are you going to eat lunch with me?” Amelie wonders, tugging one of Harry’s old shirts on and sliding briefs onto her hips – he never wears them anyways.

“Think I need to go for a run, and then I’ll shower and come back and eat.”

“You want to go for a run? After a twelve-hour flight?”

“Need to otherwise you and me will be in that bed for the next twelve hours,” Harry says surely, taking a deep breath and nodding his already semi-hard cock between his thighs.

“For fuck’s sake,” Amelie breathes, shaking her head and walking to him on the bed. Her lips press against his chastely, once, then twice, smiling when he tugs her onto his chest, and they fall against the mattress.

“Love you.”

“Love you more. Go for your run. Think I can take, like, six hours in bed, with breaks, alright? I’m not a machine.”

“Ooh, a compromise.”

“Married men get three compromises a year, this is one.”

“Deal.”

[halla-hunts-the-wolf]

A short-story preview.

Set in a story where years down the line, Fen'harel has yet to destroy the Veil, but his plights are making all of Thedas weary of the modern elves.

Four Dalish elves band together to avenge a massacre. Will they inflict Justice or Vengeance on those responsible? And what secrets will they uncover along the way?

Warning: Violent acts & Character Death.

----

On the outskirts of Ansburg, a Dalish settlement had been destroyed. 

They had been camping beside the coast, where a river drained off from the ocean. 

They’d thought that the lack of freshwater would make the paths less favorable towards merchants or humans in general.  Their aravels had been pitched and their halla let loose to graze. 

They lasted three days. 

On the fourth day, when two cloaked riders closed in on where the Dalish were meant to be, the stench of death still remained, carrion birds harvested bodies, and a started fire had laid waste to everything.  

Blood ran the river red by the time the two riders reached the desolate camp.

Their movements became slow and they approached with caution; anticipating an ambush, but all they were met with was the silence that the massacre left behind. 

“Maker,” one of the riders mumbled, bringing his arm up to cover his nose.  “Who could have done this? Do you think it could’ve been Fen’harel?” 

“No,” the other rider says, his voice somber and distant. “No, these elves were not his enemies and they did not deserve his wrath.”  As he spoke, he would have abandoned his mount, an older Dracolisk, beside the river. Carrying on by foot, he would assess the carnage.  Bodies lay to waste around him, many of which were missing their pointed ears. It was sickening, deplorable, and a byproduct of fear.  “Even so, this act is unforgivable.” His voice would crack, overwhelmed by anger  and grief. “There are so few of our people left, and the only thing they have done is chosen not to take a side in this foolish war.” 

“The war that we are fighting.” 

“Yes, because even though it is foolish, it can not be ignored.  Not when innocent people are being slaughtered like this.” The second rider would crouch down, to close the eyes of an elf who was staring up at the sky. “Falon’Din enasal enaste.” 

“What are we going to do now, carry on to Tevinter?” 

“We are going to bury them, and find those responsible.” 

The first rider lets out an exasperated sigh. “Lavellan, we don’t have the time-” 

“- Then we make time.” 

The first rider says nothing more, hanging his head in silent compliance. 

They spend their evening in this way, gathering bodies and offering them final prayers. They didn’t have the means to do a proper ceremony, but they would do their best with heavy hearts.  

Nightfall had soon come and gone, and as a new dawn broke across the sky, the two men sat across from each other, swallowing down their rations despite lacking a proper appetite.  

“So you didn’t find your dalish contact amongst the dead?” The first rider would ask, his bright green eyes were growing red, as he fought the  need to sleep.  Only in his mid-twenties, and a recently freed slave of the Tevinter Imperium, he was not used to the constant traveling and combat he had to endure while shadowing the former Inquisitor.  He rubs at his face, hands running across his mutilated vallaslin.  The branches that spread over his cheeks had been cut into and burned by his former master, when he was only eighteen and freshly kidnapped from his own clan. “Perhaps he went after those responsible?” 

“No,” Lavellan would shake his head. “Ryland would have waited for us, had he still been alive and of his own free will.” The older elf  would be fiddling with a string around his neck. He clutched at the sending crystal as if it was his life line with one hand, while the other, a prosthetic, would be clutching a potion. “This group was made up of smaller dalish clans, ones that were left abandoned by their clanmates when they joined Solas. Ryland was traveling with them, to bring them to another encampment on the other side of Nevarra.” 

“That was very noble of him.” 

“Yes, and I’m the one who asked him to do it.” 

“You can’t blame yourself for what happened, and drink your potion.” 

Lavellan would stop fiddling with his necklace, taking to unscrewing the cork of the bottle in his hand. “If we had gotten here a day sooner Ma’hallian, we may have prevented this from happening entirely.”  He would down the bottle in one go, guzzling it’s dark purple liquid, looking as if he’d just bit into a lemon afterwards. “This thing could be a poison.” 

“A poison that keeps you from keeling over in pain.” Ma’hallian would remind him gently, before reaching out to take the empty bottle from the other man’s hands. “And we didn’t get here a day sooner, so we have to keep moving forward.” 

“We will, as soon as the person responsible is brought to justice.” 

The white-haired elf would lean forward, fixing the former Inquisitor with a narrowed gaze. 

The older elf was on the cusp of fifty, with silver streaks in his long chestnut hair and wrinkles overtaking his darkened skin.  These days, his hands shook whenever he lifted his sword, and his amber eyes always smoldered with conviction. “Is it justice you are after, or is it vengeance?”

“The two are not so different, when faced with a situation like this.” 

“We both know that they are.” 

Lavellan hated being shown up by his assistant, someone who could be so callous and shy towards the rest of the world. The boy had spent the majority of his life either in solitude or servitude and yet, he still managed to come out of it with a remarkable sense of responsibility and level headedness. 

“I-” He does not get a proper sentence out, as a distant sound causes his ears to twitch. Ma’hallian hears it too and they rise to their feet.  

Ma’hallian draws a dagger from his belt and Lavellan pulls free his sword from its sheath.  They approach the source of the noise with silent steps, until they are looming over the site of a destroyed aravel. It’s red fabric and splintered wood had made a heavy pile, and something dared to move beneath it. 

“Careful,” Lavellan murmurs, “it may be an abomination that’s risen.” 

Leering forward with one foot, the elf  would kick the debris away, his sword poised to strike down, but he would stop just short of skewering another elf. 

An elf also nearing his fifties, with deep red hair that was coated in soot and streaked with soft greys. His face, while well defined, was covered in laugh lines and scars alike. They danced along his vallaslin for Ghilan’nain, etched in blue to match his eyes.   This new elf stares up at them, as a cough rattles throughout his chest and past his lips.  “Well, hello your highness. I survived then? Unless you managed to finally kick the bucket too.” 

“No, Ry, you’re just that lucky.” Lavellan would put his sword away before holding out a hand, hauling his former partner from the aravel. Eyeing him wearily, in search of any wounds that could prove fatal. 

“Ah well, what can I say? The universe loves me.” Ryland dusts himself off, wincing as he does so, but seemingly unharmed save for a few aches, bruises, and perhaps a concussion after being crushed beneath one of their landships. “How bad is it?” 

“You’re the only survivor.”

 The red-head takes in a sharp breath. “That can’t be right. Where are the bodies?” 

They take him to the people who they had wrapped or covered, ready to be buried, as time permitted them.  He looks them over, with blue eyes watering, before he shakes his head.  “There were younger elves here, children, and a mage. None of them are with the dead.” 

“Perhaps they perished in the fire that ravaged the camp?” Ma’hallain offers, supervising Ryland as Lavellan wanders off to their mounts. “Or animals picked off their remains?” 

“You are  a grim young man, Ma’hallain, but no. The only scavengers in this area are the birds, and they wouldn’t be able to devour  a body within a day, let alone a dozen or so. The person responsible for the siege must have taken them.” 

“And who was responsible?” Lavellan had rejoined them, bringing a fresh pair of clothes to Ryland from his carry on.

“There’s a human settlement nearby, Ansburg? They’ve recently come into new leadership and the man appears to be terrified of us knife-ears.” Ryland would strip there, pulling his otherwise tattered shirt over his head and tossing it to the ground.  Lavellan would hand him the clean one and Ma’hallian would have the decency to look away as he took off his pants as well. “When the local militia arrived, I told them that we had no ties with Fen’Harel or the Qun. They said that they were under orders and at the end of the day, all elves were the same.” 

“Yet they would never claim that all humans are murderers, would they?” 

“Fear is bred by ignorance, highness. They’ll get what’s coming for them.” 

Lavellan would grumble, “Did you at least scout Ansburg when you first made camp?” 

“Course I did, seemed like a normal shemlen village. Smelt of rotten fish and wet dog. There weren’t any elves, but I didn’t find that odd. There aren’t many flat ears left in the smaller settlements.”  

“Did you find where this new leader lived?” 

“It was the first thing on my list, but something seemed off about it. The whole village was sort of dreary, but his estate was shimmery, almost. Like the stones were reflecting the light.” 

Ma’hallian snaps back to attention, his ears drooping just so. “That sounds like warding, and a very obvious one.  I bet he is using it to scare others away, people do that in the Magisterium. Either to scare the already fearful, or to make a spectacle out of something valuable.” 

“So we’ll need a mage?” Lavellans asks. 

“Unless warriors suddenly know how to dispel things? Rogues most certainly do not.” 

“Oh,” Ryland would croon, “Do you know what it sounds like to me? It sounds like a call to Dorian. Tell him I said hello, I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to know that I survived.” 

Rolling his eyes, Lavellan would turn away from the other men. Knowing that Ma’hallian was glib due to his many years living in darkness and Ryland was only using humor to cope with the carnage around them. 

[aer-in-wanderland]

구미호뎐 | Tale of the Nine Tailed - Lost in Translation EP03

The saga continues: part three in a series in which my sister and I pick our way through all the (mis)translations, humour, and cultural subtext that dropped from the fan-subbed version of TotNT. Thank you so much to everyone who bought us coffee - this one’s for you. ;) 

Before we begin, for anyone just joining us: EP01 / EP02. 

We pick up back where we left off last episode with Yeon dressing Ji Ah’s wound. 

Yeon’s line that’s subbed, “Stop being a crybaby” can be a bit hard to translate. The word he uses is ‘eomsal,’ which literally means, ‘the exaggeration of pain; feigning pain; a great fuss about nothing.’ So he’s essentially saying she’s overreacting. I'm not a fan of the use of the word ‘crybaby’ here though personally.

“Long time no see, Lee Yeon.” > > > 12 Hours Earlier.

We see Thirsty meet his ignominious end in a toilet (we never got character names for these guys so I’m just going to call them ‘Thirsty’ and ‘Hungry’).

Elsewhere on the island, Rang fishes a curse doll with the man’s picture on it out of the surf. That’s quite the atmospheric shot. Point to the director.

Episode 03 Title Card: The Secret of the Dragon King 

We open the following morning as Ji Ah and the man who found the body (who Ji Ah refers to as ‘Captain’) examine the scene.

Sub: “Being at sea wasn’t enough and he drowned himself to death.” I’m not sure that sentence even makes sense. I would have translated the man’s line as: “Ho~ Let no one say he wasn’t a seaman. He managed to kick the bucket by drowning [even on dry land].” 

Sub: “Talk about it being all for nothing. This is what he gets after throwing himself at his life.” Um, what now? The line is: “Human lives are so futile. And after he clung so viciously to life, too.”

Lol Yeon. “I see someone threw a party.” I like this sub. What he literally says though is: “Oh~ Looks like it was a really special night.” (‘special’ here is in English). 

Sub: “He smells like a stinky fish.” What Yeon literally says is: “Ugh, a smell like rotting fish is coming from this kid!” Yeon refers to the man as ‘yae,’ which literally means ‘this kid,’ but can also be used to refer to inanimate objects. So, either way...pfft

Appropriately, the BGM playing as Pyung Hee casts her curse is ‘Shaman.’

Back over to Yeon and Ji Ah as they investigate the body. The chyron on the screen reads: ‘The first survivor of the Milky Way (Deceased)’ Irony-(probably)-not-intended. 

We get another chyron not long after, over a shot of Pyung Hee’s father’s head being returned to shore that reads: ‘Seo Gi Chang (Died aboard the Milky Way)’

Lol None of this has stopped Yeon from nomming on his banana milk. I had thought the milk made him seem like a little kid, but according to Korean fans, it’s also, apparently, commonly enjoyed by old men. heh

Sub: “Besides, they’re not good looking enough.” This is a mistranslation. Yeon’s line is literally: “And besides, I don’t like the look of their faces.” What he means, though, is the feeling they give off, rather than their actual ‘looks.’ It’s a common expression in Korean. If I was translating instead of explaining, I would probably render this as, “I don’t like the look of them.”

As Ji Ah drags him out, however, Yeon can be heard saying, “Ah~ I judge people by their looks~!” I’m 98% sure this is another LDW ad lib. Basically, LDW made a joke of his previous line, as if to say Yeon cared about the look of them because they weren’t attractive enough, when really his line meant they seemed shady. It’s almost as if he predicted the bad sub...

We get a brief scene featuring the second (and only named) survivor of the Milky Way, Jin Shik. Oh, and his headless ‘visitor.’ Creepy.

The music underscoring Hungry gorging himself on raw meat is making everything worse (or possibly better, if disturbing is your jam)

I’ve said it before, but I would watch an entire series of Yeon and Ji Ah being a supernatural investigative duo.

Pfft Yeon refers to Seo Gi Chang as ‘the head’ (mogaji). I’m not sure if I should call that indelicate or irreverent. It’s a bit of both, really. 

Yeon’s line here is subbed as, “What happened on the boat?” but it should more properly be: “What did you do on the boat?” He’s not just asking after the sequence of events; the line is a clear accusation.

Sub: “We met an unexpected storm that day.” Actually: “Rough wind and waves hit the side of the fishing boat.” (i.e. causing it to capsize) 

I appreciate that Yeon sits back here and allows Ji Ah to take the lead. 

So, as it turns out, the 11th hell is actually a fishing boat (I’m sure the cast of 1N2D will back me up on this).

Fun fact: This sequence was filmed in a green screen pool and then made to look like the middle of the ocean with CG.

As an aside, I love that Ji Ah deduced the whole story on her own and that she uses that knowledge to corner Hungry psychologically. Also, that her strategy proves more effective than Yeon’s threat of violence. It’s not so much a ‘you catch more flies with honey,’ as a ‘brain over brawn’ sort of deal. 

Ji Ah: You were frightened, weren’t you? Twenty-eight days straight on a perilous life boat without water or food. They’re the perfect conditions for a person to go mad, aren’t they? First-degree burns from the hot August sun striking your body mercilessly, the boat pitching about all day; despite not having eaten, you feel as if you’ll throw up. Clenching your teeth and waiting to be rescued only works for a day or two. The more you think about it, the angrier you get. ‘Why, me? Why?!’ Around the fifth day was the crisis point. Since, in that time, not a drop of rain had fallen. Dehydration would have set in first. [...] But it’s odd, isn’t it? For having starved for 28 days, you lost too little body mass. [...] What did you eat?

Meanwhile, Yeon’s contribution to all of this is: “And you couldn’t have used a delivery app in the middle of the open ocean where there’s no wifi signal.” Pfft He has, of course, caught on to her strategy. As usual, though, he decides to take the cheeky route. 

Side note: I find it interesting that, in this universe full of monsters, the first incident Yeon and Ji Ah end up investigating together turns out to be an entirely human horror. 

Yo. Hungry deciding Ji Ah is food is just...ugh. Never trust a cannibal. 

Luckily for Ji Ah, her guard dog fox is on the job. 

Over to Rang, who asks a weeping Pyung Hee what she’ll give him in return for granting her ‘wish’. We don’t get to see her answer him, but it was included in the backstory collection.

It’s unclear to me just how much Rang is involved in ‘granting’ Pyung Hee’s wish. Like, is he the one fueling the curse somehow, or did he just teach her what she needed to know? I’m inclined to believe it’s more the latter. 

We cut to Taluipa at the Afterlife Immigration Office, who’s pissed that someone’s messing with her Death List. There’s a fun mythology-related chestnut in this scene: when Hyeonuiong comes running in, he’s carrying a watering can. Taluipa accuses him of having been watching dramas, but Hyeonuiong insists he was watering the Uiryeongsu. 

The chyron for it reads: ‘The Uiryeongsu. A tree that measures the sins of the dead by the weight of their clothes when they’re hung on it.’ The hanja for ‘Uiryeongsu’ (衣領樹) literally mean ‘clothing-amount-tree,’ so its name is essentially its function. In traditional mythology, it grows on the near bank of the Samdocheon. This is also the same tree that the Uiryeong’geom (geom = sword) mentioned in EP13 is made from.

“You watered a tree for 3 hours?” Pfft Hyeonuiong and watering can, exit stage right. 

Minor detail: I just realized I can actually see from Taluipa’s List in this scene that one of the two fishermen is named Kim Gil Sang. Still not sure which one though, so I’m going to stick to calling them Hungry and Thirsty. 

The Dragon King Scroll

Back over to Ji Ah, who examines a creepy scroll hanging in Jin Shik’s vacant quarters. Once again, the show cuts into its own dramatic tension with a moment of levity as Yeon startles both Ji Ah and me by popping open his bag of snacks with a massive bang. The contrast between Ji Ah, who’s in serious investigator mode, and Yeon, who just continues his one-gumiho snack parade, blasé as can be, adds humour to an otherwise grim situation. 

Yeon’s response of, “Oh. Sorry.” is in English, making it sound, if possible, even less sincere.

On the off chance that anyone was wondering, the snack Yeon claims as his favorite here is 솜짱 (somjjang). According to the Korean fans again, this is also a food commonly enjoyed by elderly people.

Subs: “Do you know how many people in Joseon died during the 50 years of war? 3.5 million. I’ve seen more deaths than all the funeral companies in this country.” This is another case of diagonal translation. Yeon’s line is more properly: 

Yeon: Between the Imjin War and the Manchu War, do you know how much of the population of Joseon-era Korea was lost in just 50 years? 3,500,000. I’m a guy who’s seen more funerals than all the funerary companies in Korea put together.  

[Note: Yeon is talking about The Japanese Invasions a.k.a The Imjin War (1592-1598) and The Qing Invasion of Joseon a.k.a. The Manchu War (1636)]

As a linguistic aside, Yeon refers to himself here as a ‘nom’ (rhymes with ‘home’). If you read the breakdown of EP02, you’ll recall that ‘nom’ can mean anything from ‘guy’ to ‘bastard.’ It’s not that Yeon means to call himself a bastard, though. It’s only that the typical alternative here (i.e. ‘person’) carries the implication of 'human.’ Since Yeon is, of course, not human, he opts for ‘nom’ instead. The word gets a lot of mileage in this show in relation to all the supernaturals for that reason. 

Lol This exchange about the Dragon King was great. Point to the writer. I would translate it as: 

Yeon: You’re right, but it looks nothing like him. 

Ji Ah: You’ve...seen him? 

Yeon: Back when I was a mountain god. Well, in today’s terms you’d say we attended a leadership conference together. They over-glamorized him. He’s not this good looking.

Ji Ah’s reaction is perfect too. Her, ‘I don’t even know where to begin with that statement so I’m just going to move on’ look came across loud and clear. 

Yeon’s line as he leans over Ji Ah’s shoulder is subbed: “This is just like ‘Where’s Wally?’” In Korea, the game is called ‘find the hidden picture’ (‘sumun keurim chatgi’). So the line is actually: “What is this, ‘find the hidden picture’ or something?” I’d say there’s a 50/50 chance this line was another ad lib by Lee Dong Wook.

On an entirely different cultural note, ‘Where’s Wally?’ is know as ‘Where’s Waldo?’ in North America and exactly nowhere else. Don’t ask... 

This scene features the first mention we get of Imoogi. Imoogi are among the most famous Korean mythical creatures. In most tellings, they are essentially proto-dragons, though occasionally they can be baby dragons. For example, one imoogi tale claims its imoogi was the son of the Dragon King (the same one Yeon attended a ‘leadership conference’ with). Most of the lore agrees that if an imoogi stays submerged in deep water for a thousand years, it earns the chance to become a dragon, though the caveats vary widely, and many imoogi fail. Finally, while the imoogi in TotNT is evil, imoogi aren’t categorically so; some are good, some aren’t.

Rang and the Mudang

Fun fact: Kim Beom explained in his Instagram LIVE that he chose to wear a red suit partially because the color gave off the feeling of a villain, but also because it contrasted well with the green of the forest. He also named this as his favorite Lee Rang outfit.

For anyone keeping track, Rang speaks to the mudang in banmal. She, in return, addresses him as ‘Lee Rang-nim’ and speaks very respectfully.

Okay, there are a couple of things to unpack in Rang’s following exchange with the mudang: 

Mudang: The Corrupt God, King of the Wicked. He is Lee Ryong-nim.

Rang: [Laughs] What’s with that? Ugh, I seriously just cringed! If you slap a fancy title* from the next world in front of its name, does a snake become a dragon?

First, the mudang’s line here is said in an archaic cant. Second, ‘Lee Ryong’ (properly pronounced, ‘i-ryong,’ since there’s actually no ‘L’ in ‘Lee’), is another name for imoogi.

Finally, when Rang says ‘a fancy title from the next world,’ he’s referring to a posthumous name/title. Nearly every kingdom to have occupied the Korean peninsula has used posthumous titles (시호), most often for deceased royalty. By giving one to Imoogi, the mudang is venerating him. Rang mocks this, seizing on Imoogi’s failure to become a dragon. (Let no one say he and Yeon aren’t brothers).

The subs have Rang referring to Yeon as just ‘Yeon,’ but he actually calls him ‘Lee Yeon.’ That’s a very impersonal way to refer to one’s older brother, which is, of course, intentional on Rang’s part. It serves as another linguistic cue to the audience as to how Rang regards Yeon at this point. 

A note on the evening primrose: tvN released a short blurb about it, since, as far as I can tell, the mythology was invented for the show. It reads: 

Evening primrose that has grown while feeding on the blood and flesh of corpses is the same as poison to gumiho; if they so much as touch its powder, their bodies catch flame.

While the subs consistently just say ‘evening primrose,’ this should more properly be ‘burial ground evening primrose,’ which is how the various characters refer to it. 

Fun fact: ‘Evening primrose’ in Korean is ‘dalmaji-kkot’ (달맞이꽃), which means ‘flowers that welcome the moon’. 

Sub: “Half-brothers, to be exact.” The term Rang uses in Korean is quite literally, ‘brothers from different stomachs,’ so it refers specifically to half brothers who share a father but who have different mothers. I mention it only because Korean viewers will have been given slightly more information about their familial relationship here than was provided in the subs. 

Back over to our leads, as Yeon urges Ji Ah to leave the island post-haste. His line is subbed: “I’m saying you may die if you stay here.” That’s a perfectly fine translation. For anyone curious, though, his line is quite literally: “I’m saying if you stay here, [the conditions are] perfect for dying.” 

Sub: “That’s none of your business.” Yeon’s line is more properly: “That’s not for you to know.”

Ji Ah’s response to this is very literally: “I have no intention to go home for a reason I don’t know. So Lee Yeon should find the person Lee Yeon came here to find. I have to know why my parents came to this island.” This is the first time Ji Ah uses Yeon’s full name as a second person pronoun (so basically to mean ‘you’) when speaking to him. It’s hard to make generalizations about any form of address that don’t have multiple exceptions, but in this case, using his name is a more neutral, and somewhat more familiar, alternative to some of the other pronouns she’s been using when speaking to him. To my sense, it softens her rejection of his advice a little bit.

Back to Rang. His line is a bit awkward to translate, but essentially what he says is, ‘Calling my brother a ‘mountain god’ is an overstatement/ putting it nicely.’ I might approximate this as, ‘Sure, my brother was called a mountain god.’ This is the only time in the entire drama that Rang refers to Yeon as ‘uri hyung,’ and it kills me a bit that it’s not out of fondness, but rather derision. ㅠㅠ

Similarly, when Rang says, “I’m a fox, after all. I have to repay eunhye properly,” he is, of course, using eunhye sarcastically.

The subtitle here once again says ‘the underworld,’ but Rang’s line is actually: “I’m going to go to hell, without fail. Together with Lee Yeon.” The subs really need to do a better job of distinguishing between hell and the afterlife. 

We see Ji Ah instruct Jae Hwan over the phone as to what to search for in the library records. She’s split off from Yeon since we last saw them. 

Elsewhere on the island, Yeon also makes a call, only his is to Halmeom (Taluipa) to ask about Imoogi. When this episode first aired, I thought it was odd that Yeon was using ‘Imoogi’ as if it were a name, since this would be like referring to Yeon as ‘Gumiho.’ He later taunts Terry-Imoogi about just that though (i.e. not even having a proper name), so obviously it was an intentional decision on the writer’s part. 

Sub: “If by chance Ah Eum was born again into this world, I can’t let that thing coexist with her.” This sub went a bit sideways. The ‘by chance’ has been mis-attributed. The line is properly: “There’s no way I could possibly (i.e. by any chance/under no circumstances can I) let such a thing exist in a world in which Ah Eum has been reborn.” Yeon is already sure that Ah Eum has been reborn at this point. He’s saying that because she’s been reborn, he can’t allow Imoogi to coexist with her under any circumstances.

Rang vs Ji Ah

Ji Ah returns to Pyung Hee’s to find ‘Pyung Hee’ reading Moby Dick. This is an ironic enough choice of literature to clue her in to the fact that this isn’t really Pyung Hee. Smart cookie. 

On a character note, I loved that Ji Ah’s knowledge of, and love for, world literature was threaded believably throughout the drama in a way in which it feels natural that she caught on to Rang’s hint here. Point to the writer. 

Again, for anyone keeping track, Ji Ah and Rang speak to each other in banmal, as has been the case since Rang revealed himself at Ji Ah’s house in EP01. Not because they’re close, obviously, but because they have zero respect for one another. It’s a bit of a power play on Ji Ah’s part, too, since she’s (hundreds of years) younger. 

Over to Yeon, who barges into the local market owner’s personal quarters to interrogate him. His line when he catches sight of the scroll on the wall is subbed: “Look at this.” This should more properly be: “Check these people out. There’s one here too.” The word he uses that I translated as ‘these people’ is ‘i-geot-dul,’ which is very literally ‘these things,’ so I sort of understand the confusion in the subs. He means the islanders though, not the scrolls. In contrast, ‘there’s one here too’ does actually refer to the scroll.

The knife Yeon throws hits directly over the slit pupil of the scroll dragon’s eye. Nice aim.

Back to Ji Ah and Rang. When Ji Ah accuses Rang of orchestrating the deaths of the Milk Way survivors, ‘to distract us,’ what she says quite literally is ‘to cover our eyes and ears.’

When Rang applauds Ji Ah’s deductive abilities, his line is subbed, “Awesome.” This should more properly be, “Outstanding,” or, “Exceptional.” I honestly believe he’s being sincere in his praise. Being Rang, though, he’s probably just delighted this makes her more challenging to toy with.

Having completed his interrogation, Yeon’s eyes change as he erases the man’s memory of the event. I suspect the reason Yeon is so cavalier about revealing he’s a gumiho is because he can basically ‘undo’ it whenever he wants using this power.

Ji Ah’s quiet, “I decline” is so satisfying. Also the way Rang pulls back in surprise haha I guess he’s not used to being turned down. 

Rang’s exchange with Ji Ah is subbed as: “Loosen up. Why be so stiff when it’s just good old me?” / “Let me give you some advice since that’s how you feel. Don’t gamble with another’s tragedy just for kicks. There’s a word for people like you, you know. A colossal jerk.” This is difficult to translate, and I think the subs have done a pretty good job, but a closer translation would be:

Rang: Augh— So uptight! Are you going to keep acting this uptight, just between us* (literally, ‘between you and me’)? 

Ji Ah: Between you and me, then, I’ll give you just one word of advice: Don’t carelessly role the dice atop others’ misfortune. People call jerks like you ‘sleazy bastards.’ 

[*Note: Rang’s phrasing implies that they’re somehow close/on good terms, but he’s being sarcastic, of course.]

First off, the word Rang uses for ‘uptight’ (빡빡하다) means ‘stiff; uptight; rigid; inflexible; strict.’ By this, he’s referring to how she never lets her guard down. I don’t know that any of those words properly conveys that, though. 

Second, while I translated Ji Ah’s line about the dice very literally here (in keeping with the spirit of this post), I actually like how the subs handled it from a translation/subtitling standpoint. 

Finally, the subs have Ji Ah calling Rang ‘a colossal jerk,’ but the term she actually uses (‘yang’achi saekki’) is a much stronger expletive. ‘Yang’achi’ is a term for a thug, gangster, or hoodlum. ‘Saekki’ literally means ‘child of.’ In practical use, though, it’s close to ‘bastard.’ (I really didn’t think I’d be explaining the finer points of Korean expletives when I started this series, but here we are). I approximated this as ‘sleazy bastard’ above. 

Pfft Rang being genuinely offended at Ji Ah’s language. Jo Bo Ah talked a bit about what she thought of all the explicit language Ji Ah uses towards Rang in her wrap interview. 

Subs: “When he finds what he wants, you’ll be begging for mercy.” No idea where they got 'begging for mercy.’ What Rang actually says is, “When he  finds what he wants, you’ll see hell.” Unlike in the subtitle, Rang’s warning actually has substance to it, since he’s referring to the fact that, once Yeon identifies Ji Ah as Ah Eum’s reincarnation, their fate with Imoogi will repeat itself. 

By the time Yeon rushes back to Pyung Hee’s, Rang is long gone. His line subbed as: “What did he say?” is, quite literally, “Lee Rang, that nom, what’d he say?” This use of ‘nom’ manages to come off as fairly mild. (He may be a jerk, but he’s Yeon’s jerk). 

Ji Ah’s response has undergone cultural translation to become: “Even when I order pizza, I never go for half-and-half. I always choose just one.” Honestly, though, I don’t know that it was necessary. What she actually says is: “Even when I order chicken, I don’t go for half-seasoned, half-fried; I’m the type to just pick one.”

This scene was originally longer but part of it got deleted. They released the clip, though, so I’ll translate the full exchange here:

Ji Ah: I'm saying I turned him down, your younger brother. Since I bet on this fox.  

Yeon: Let no one say you aren’t a learned (wise) woman. Is that all?  

Rang (voiceover): Don't trust Lee Yeon too much.  

Ji Ah: That's all. But...you said the two of you are brothers.

Yeon: Yeah. We’re brothers. 

Ji Ah: Why are you so hellbent on destroying each other? 

Yeon: It seems like you don’t know since you’re an only child, but, as a rule, the relationship between siblings is a lot like noir, just without the guns.

Ji Ah: There you go, deflecting the question again. Is that a secret, too? 

Yeon: If you ever happen to run into that guy again just the two of you, no matter what, run fast. That kid* despises humans. Especially humans that look like you. 

Ji Ah: Why do you keep taking cracks at people's faces?

Yeon: ...I'm hungry.  

Ji Ah: Why don’t you take the opportunity to pack up and leave while you still can? Your younger brother...it seems he’s preparing some sort of special event. 

Yeon: That’s what I’m waiting for.

*Note: The word Yeon uses that I translated as ‘kid’ is ‘jashik.’ This is another word that, depending on how it’s used, can either be fond or rude. ‘Jashik’ literally means ‘[one’s] child,’ but it’s also commonly used in the sense of ‘punk.’ It’s a bit softer than nom. You wouldn’t use it to refer to yourself, though. 

Ji Ah’s “Why do you keep taking cracks at people’s faces?” (meaning he’s insulting/taking issue with how she looks), is referencing their exchange the previous night when he told her not to smile because she was ugly.

We cut briefly to Shin Joo eating at the Snail Bride as he sizes up Yoo Ri from a distance. Come to think of it, we never got this BGM for the Snail Bride, either...

Ramen Heart-to-Heart

Lee Yeon’s one-gumiho meokbang continues. I feel like Yeon has been nomming on something in nearly every scene this episode. 

The BGM while Yeon and Ji Ah eat is a remix of Yeon’s theme, ‘The Fox’s Wedding Day.’

Sub: “Just because these ladies wear baggy pants in floral prints doesn’t mean they have kind hearts. Get digging, and you’ll find all sorts of dirty secrets.” Yeon’s line is more literally: 

Yeon: Living is all the same [everywhere]~ Just because grannies in the countryside wear flower-patterned pants doesn’t mean that even their insides are flower-patterned. If you start digging, venomous and insidious years come pouring out. 

Ji Ah’s response then plays off of Yeon’s turn of phrase: “Is that the case for you too? I just wondered, ‘With what pattern did you live all those long years?’” (referring to the ‘pattern’ of his heart).

On a minor cultural note: the word Yeon uses is ‘mombbae pants’ (몸빼바지), which are a fashion(?) staple in the countryside. You’ll know what I mean if you run the hangeul through a google image search. That’s where the subs got ‘baggy’ from even though Yeon doesn’t explicitly say it. 

Sub: “Why have you been searching for your parents all this time?” Yeon’s line is more properly: “Then what about you? What has made you wait for your parents for such a long time?” 

Sub: “I’m the same. I’m waiting for the one I miss.” I would have translated this as: “I’m waiting for someone I miss,” which is literally what he says. 

Sub: “Why did you part ways when you still miss her this much?” This is a bit hard to translate into natural-sounding English. The word Ji Ah uses is ‘mi’ryeon,’ which means ‘lingering attachment.’ So her line is quite literally: “Your face is so full of lingering attachment, how did you come to part ways/break up?”

Sub: “The first being I loved was a human girl who ended up dying. It’s why I’m still hung up on her. Happy now?” Hmm... I would translate Yeon’s line as:

Yeon: My damn* first love was a human of all things, but she died, so I’m foolishly unable to let go of my lingering attachment. Happy now? 

[*Note: Yeon is cursing is the phenomenon of first love itself, not Ah Eum.]

His statement is witty, because the word he uses for ‘foolish’ is also pronounced ‘mi’ryeon.’ In this case, though, 'mi’ryeon’ means, ‘foolhardy and dense enough to be stubborn to a preposterous degree.’ Which is probably a fair assessment given he’s been waiting 600 years. The sub for this line made it sound like he’s saying, ‘I’m hung up on her because she’s a human girl who died,’ which would just be weird. 

Shin Joo Meets Yoo Ri

Okay, minor detail, but what exactly was Yoo Ri trying to accomplish here before Shin Joo stopped her from entering an off-limits area of the Snail Bride?

The BGM here is called ‘Skip a Beat’ (‘Kanju Jump’). I found the track title slightly surprising since it’s actually taken from an ad lib made by Kim Yong Ji (Yoo Ri) in a later episode. 

For anyone keeping track, Shin Joo and Yoo Ri are speaking in a mix of banmal and jondaetmal in this scene.

We next see Shin Joo on the phone with Yeon, whining about the whole ordeal and asking an unsympathetic Yeon to come back and retrieve his necklace for him.

Yeon’s line that’s subbed as, “Deadly?” could mean more than one thing. The line is literally, “What? The thief was deadly?” The word for ‘deadly,’ though, could equally mean that she was a knockout (i.e. gorgeous). It’s probably a bit of both.

Subs: “There’s nothing more pathetic than being blinded by a woman’s beauty...” / “But you also ruined your life by falling for beautiful woman.”  For the record, neither of them actually uses the word ‘beauty/beautiful’ here. I would translate this exchange as: 

Yeon: You... The most pathetic thing in the world, is being blinded by a woman, and... 

Shin Joo: But being blinded by a woman and wrecking your life is something Lee Yeon-nim did too, isn’t it? 

Yeon: What, you punk?!

Lol Yeon’s “What, you punk?!” is a familiar refrain whenever Shin Joo unwittingly(?) insults Yeon. The word is ‘imma’ (임마) or sometimes ‘inma’ (인마). Yeon consistently uses the former.

‘Bad Fate’

Subs: “Why is that branch broken? It must’ve hurt.” Yeon is actually personifying the tree here, which makes sense seeing as he can communicate with it. So his line is more literally: “Now why has this kid gone and made a fuss breaking [his] branch? It must’ve hurt.” Which is cute.

I actually really appreciated this short scene of Yeon healing the tree. Yeon may no longer be the master of Baekdudaegan, but this scene showed that it’s still very much a part of who he is; not just his powers, but the care he has for the forest. 

Fun (?) fact: It turns out this simple scene was actually a huge pain to film. 

Subs: “I hope you grow well.” Actually: “Eat well and grow well.” I realize that sounds awkward in English, but the line is a directive. He’s once again speaking to the tree. 

Sub: “The wind is blowing from the northwest. Something is coming.” I would have translated this as: “A northwest wind blows... Something is coming.” That’s partly a tonal choice, but it’s also a more literal reflection of the original Korean. 

We finally catch back up to the end of EP02, as Jae Hwan calls Ji Ah from the library to tell her what he’s found. This time, we see her connect the first dead body in 1954 to what the forest spirit told them more explicitly. 

The dates of the four incidents are: August 13, 1954; August 25, 1961; September 6, 1979; and September 7, 1987. Ji Ah quickly deduces that these all work out to be the same date on the lunar calendar: July 15th. In 2020, that works out to be Wednesday, September 2nd. If you’ll recall, the wedding at the start of EP01 was held on August 29, so it’s only been 3 days since Yeon and Ji Ah crossed paths at the wedding hall. 

“Long time no see, Lee Yeon.” What is it with Imoogi and choking Yeon?

Subs: “You should’ve let me go.”  More precisely: “I know, right? You should have let me go.”

Yeon’s final “What are you?” should probably have been subbed as: “I’m asking what you are!” since both his tone and phrasing have grown more insistent. 

Subs: Our ill-fated relationship would’ve ended if you hadn’t stopped the boat from crossing the Samdo River. More literally:

Jimoogi: Our ak’yeon should have ended. That is, if only you hadn’t stopped the boat from crossing the Samdocheon. 

The word the subs translated as ‘our ill-fated relationship’ is ‘ak’yeon’ (悪縁), which literally means ‘bad fate.’ In contrast to the broader, ‘destiny’ sort of fate (‘un’myeong’) however, ‘yeon’ (縁) is inherently relational. It refers specifically to the fate between two people (or even between a person and a place). ‘Ak’ (悪) means ‘evil.’ So 'ill-fated’ is a bit misleading as a translation since the word actually refers to the relationship between Yeon and Imoogi (i.e. mortal enemies), rather than the fact that Yeon and Ah Eum’s story ended tragically (as in, ‘an ill-fated love’). 

WAIT. Subs: “No. That woman is born with a face that only I can recognize. And I don’t see it in you.” What?? That doesn’t even make sense. Yeon’s line is: 

Yeon: No. That woman is born carrying a sign that only I can recognize. You don’t have it. 

Obviously, Yeon is referring to the fox bead, and I’m fairly sure that was apparent since the line was intercut with the scene in which he imparts the bead to Ah Eum, but that seems like a pretty critical line to fudge up. 

Jimoogi: “You really don’t know anything, do you, Lee Yeon?” It’s weird to me that they have Imoogi addressing Yeon as just ‘Yeon’ in the subs. That makes it seem like they’re friends or something...

Subs: “The scar is gone.” Actually: “The wound disappeared.” 

Deadball

Subs: “We hate each other too much to play catch. I actually meant to kill you.” Wait, WHAT?! Yeon’s line is: 

Yeon: Our relationship is too makjang for that. That was meant to be a deadball, actually. 

Makjang, for the uninitiated, is a slang word taken from the phrase ‘the final scene’ (‘majimak jangmyeon’) that has come to refer to an entire genre, as well as particular dramatic elements or conventions of Korean storytelling. Dramabeans explain the term here. When Yeon says his relationship with Rang is ‘makjang,’ he’s essentially saying it’s overly fraught, not that he hates his brother. 

He also doesn’t say he meant to kill Rang. ‘Deadball’ is a Korean baseball term for a pitch that hits a player (typically causing the game to be paused). So Yeon’s just saying he meant for the ‘ball’ to hit Rang, rather than for Rang to catch it. 

On a personal note, it really bothers me when the subs spread all over the internet and they’re wrong like this. I don’t mind slight changes in phrasing or wording, but when they grossly misrepresent the characters like this it can be a bit upsetting. It’s no wonder I sometimes feel like I watched a completely different drama. ㅠㅠ

Yeon’s cheeky smile™ XD

The BGM in this scene is actually ‘The Forest of the Agwi.’

Subs: “Run away.” Yeon’s line is quite literally: ‘Get away from here,’ or even, ‘put distance between here and you.’ I mention it because I really appreciated that, despite all the danger she confronts, Yeon never once tells Ji Ah to ‘run away’ (‘domang ga’). His second ‘run away’ in the subs is also just him telling her to hurry up (literally ‘go quickly’).

The following banter between the brothers is something I mentioned in an ask a while back because all the humour had been lost in translation. To recap, though, one recurring joke the show uses plays off the word for ‘bastard/son of a bitch,’ which translates literally as ‘child of a dog’ (kae-saekki). As you might imagine, this gets a lot of mileage in relation to Rang, our resident ‘baby fox’ (agi yeou) a.k.a. ‘child of a fox’ (yeou-saekki):

Rang: This is domestic violence, you know?

Yeon: (Nodding) They say you’re supposed to raise wild children* with a firm hand (literally: hit them as you raise them), but I couldn’t do that, so I ended up raising a fox child into a dog child (son of a bitch), didn’t I?

Rang: And who was the jerk who kicked that child (saekki) to the curb? You treat me like a stray dog any chance you get. 

Yeon: My little brother, I’ll have to gift you a muzzle this Christmas. 

Rang’s line was subbed: “You keep blaming it on me, when you were the one who turned me into an orphan.” which I find fairly problematic since that makes it sound like Yeon killed Rang’s parents. It’s also just plain wrong; to the extent that I’m not even sure what went wrong in the translation process. 

The word Yeon uses here for ‘wild children’ is ‘horo jashik’ (호로자식), which many Koreans understand to mean something like a barbarian child, but the true origin, as it turns out, is a parentless child. It’s also a term used predominantly by elderly people heh

Finally, because the dog jokes dropped out ‘muzzle’ became ‘mouth guard’ in the subs, which is both less funny and less sensical. The two are also conceptually opposed, since ‘muzzle’ implies that Yeon means to protect the world from Rang whereas ‘mouth guard’ is more about protecting Rang.

As Ji Ah continues to put distance between herself and the brothers, she happens upon the mudang’s house, which she immediately clocks as such from the obangi. 

I like that Ji Ah doesn’t immediately call the mudang out for lying, but instead continues to question her knowing she’s lying. Sometimes the lies people tell can be as telling as the truth. 

When Ji Ah questions her, the mudang tells her the fishing ritual is held during the ‘Ghost Festival’. This is a Buddhist festival similar to All Souls Day. In Korean it’s called ‘Baek Joong Nal’ (literally ‘hundred-gather-day’) meaning ‘the day when all the spirits gather.’ It falls on the full moon of the seventh lunar month (so July 15th of the lunar calendar), which is, of course, the date Ji Ah identified as the day when the murders were taking place. That’s why we get the zoom in and the flash to the newspaper dates: Ji Ah has put everything together. 

Chyron: “Obangi��(五方旗) A five-colored flag symbolizing ‘life, death, illness, sacrifice, and ancestors’”. This is the quick quotes version. Obangi have their roots in the Chinese philosophy of Wuxing, but for more on that, I’ll refer you to Wikipedia. In Korea, the colors of the obangi (red, blue, white, black, and yellow) are known as the five orientation colors, and are closely tied to both shamanism and fortune telling. You’ll notice these same colors flying outside the fortune teller’s in EP06.

I also appreciated that Ji Ah didn’t just foolishly drink the tea here. She was properly on her guard. It’s only that she mis-identified the source of danger.

Back over to our fox brothers. Rang’s line is subbed: “That was plenty of time.” This is more properly: “I think I’ve bought more than enough time by now.” So he’s actually quite overt in telling Yeon exactly what he'd been up to.  

Subs: “Don’t you know why she ended up on this island?” More closely: “Do you still not get it? Why that woman ended up coming to this island of all places?” 

We see the mudang encircle the creepy well with burial ground evening primrose to ward against Yeon, who is currently searching the island for Ji Ah to no avail. 

Subs: “You tricked your mom while you were in her womb.” This is a bit difficult to translate. The word the mudang uses that was translated as ‘tricked’ is ‘ggweda,’ which means to ‘lure’ or ‘entice.’ So what she means is that the part of Imoogi that was reincarnated with Ji Ah ‘lured’ her mother to the island by sending her recurring dreams. 

Gumiho

Lol Yeon: “I am the original mountain spirit, the master of the mountains and streams. Lift this darkness and lead me to her!” This is more literally:

Yeon: I am the original mountain god, the master of your mountains and streams.* Part this darkness and lead me to that woman!

[*Note: ‘Mountains and streams’ here can also be taken to mean ‘nature’ at large.]

Lol The line is met with silence and the soft hoot of a lone owl. That’s basically the director’s version of *crickets* isn’t it?

This line is another rare case in which Yeon speaks archaically, and it serves to make the command sound more formal and potentially magical. It’s also worth noting that he’s addressing the forest directly as a whole here (thus the ‘your’). 

Fun fact: When Lee Dong Wook did his TotNT VLIVE, his promotional team made him perform this line again live just to mess with him haha

The BGM here as Yeon heads off through the forest led by his (supernatural?) fireflies is ‘Opening Title: The Legend of the Fox.’ It sounds vaguely Harry Potter-ish to me (not complaining). 

For the record, Ji Ah is now speaking to the mudang in banmal out of disdain. 

Sub: “Be a sacrifice. You are a very special child.” Pfft ‘Be a sacrifice’ sounds oddly funny to me. Her line is: “Become a sacrifice. I’m told you’re a very special child.” So the implication is that this information came from someone/something else. 

Does anyone know what BGM this is as Yeon sprints though the forest? I think it might be another unreleased track, but I’m not positive...

Yeon’s “Halt!” is once again in olden speech. It indicates linguistically that he's in Gumiho mode.  

Out of curiosity, is it not odd for people watching with subs when Ji Ah’s only utterance is ‘Lee Yeon’ but the subs just say ‘Yeon’? 

Subs: “This has nothing to do with the old master of the mountain. Why don’t you keep walking?” I would have translated this as: “It is a matter unrelated to the former master of the mountain. Beg, go along your way.” She’s once again using olden-speech in her second sentence.

Lol Sub: “Says the living corpse.” I like this sub. Yeon’s line is quite literally: “With the ‘juje’ of a living corpse...” ‘Juje’ is essentially your station or lot in life, and it’s used almost exclusively derogatorily. 

Sub: “Who was it that provided you with longevity you don’t deserve?” More closely: “Who was it? The one who gave you a lifespan so much longer than you deserve?”

Yeon: “I asked you whom you serve!” (literally ‘what’ you serve). Yeon once again drops into an archaic cant for this line. It serves to underline his full age and gives his demand an extra air of authority. 

Yeon’s TAILS. I can’t believe this was the last we saw of them. ㅠㅠ Personally, I interpreted the firey tails as being a sort of ‘shadow’/ projection of his actual tails, which I assumed were actually more physically there (since he talks about shampooing them in the teaser interview). My sister thinks differently, though. Guess we’ll never know...

The BGM for this sequence is naturally ‘Gumiho.’ If you read our EP01 breakdown, you’ll know I was fully expecting this to be Yeon’s theme. But no, it’s the whimsical 'The Fox’s Wedding Day’ instead haha

Okay, Yeon just casually smiting the mudang is pretty badass. Seeing as he can command lightning, I’m pretty sure he was joking when he told Ji Ah, ‘even gumiho are afraid of electricity.’ 

If by chance you wondered what was going though Yeon’s mind when he smote the mudang, it’s featured in the EP03 subtitle poster.

I appreciated that Yeon just accepts Ji Ah at her word here when she tells him all she needs from him is one arm for support. I feel like in most dramas the male lead would have just forcefully swept the heroine off her feet amidst her protests, which I always find more problematic than romantic.

For that matter, when it became clear that Ji Ah really did need help, I appreciated that she didn’t act shy or coy and just accepted being carried without making a big deal of it. 

Pfft The way Ji Ah’s eyes flash when Yeon tells her the mudang was just a human being says it all. 

Yeon: “So you say... Excuse me, but you nearly died just now, you know?” This line is once again cheekily in jondaetmal.

*Ominous close up of the well*

Thank You

We catch up with Shin Joo at the supermarket as he talks to Yeon over the phone. 

Shin Joo’s ‘PD-nim’ has once again become, ‘the director lady’ in the subs. *Sigh*

Subs: “Your love story is more than just famous among us.” Actually: “Just how famous is Lee Yeon-nim’s love story in our world? It’s obvious your younger brother* must have been playing tricks!” 

Shin Joo refers to Rang here as ‘donsaeng-bun’ (younger sibling + polite word for person) for the same reason he calls Rang, ‘Lee Rang-nim.’ It’s an extension of his regard for Yeon, rather than for Rang himself.

Lol Shin Joo hanging up on Yeon. His love for supermarkets and fried chicken are actually in his character profile. Apparently, they’re what convinced him living as a human was worth the existential crisis that came with it. 

Sub: “I’m too much of a human to easily fall asleep after such an event. Join me.” More literally: “I’m human, so on a day like today I can’t sleep sober. You* have a glass, too.”

The word Ji Ah uses for ‘you’ here is ‘ja’ne’ (자네), which is a polite term... except it’s only used to refer to people younger than you. So’s she’s talking down to him politely haha This is what prompts Yeon’s line that follows it:

Sub: “I never said anything since it could make seem old-fashioned, but you’re too informal with me when you don’t even know my age.”

 Yeon: I kept holding it in thinking you’d call me an old fart, but you’re [using] banmal really blatantly. Just how old do you think I am?”

Yeon’s ‘Just how old do you think I am?’ is rhetorical. It’s not that Ji Ah is necessarily unaware of his true age, but rather that she acts as if she is. 

Sub: “Those over 60 are universally considered as grandpas.” Actually: “You know everyone over 60 can be called a grandpa, right?”

Pfft Sub: “Be as informal as you like.” What Yeon literally says is, “Please lower your speech,” but he uses very respectful language to say it. I’m not sure if he’s being sarcastic, or if he just hates the thought of being considered a grandpa that much haha It’s probably a bit of both.

Aww Ji Ah promising to protect Yeon. I luff her. 

Ji Ah: "Do I perhaps have something you’re looking for?” I love that she doesn’t miss a thing.

Lol Yeon: “Who am I, Jesus? Just drink what you have.” 

The Vanishing

Subs: “Don’t ever resort to cursing people again. Karma can sting.” Quite literally: “You were lucky you kept your life, but don’t do such a thing* as cursing others ever again. They return, you know. Back on the one who casts them.” 

*Yeon uses the disparagement marker ‘ddaui’ (따위) to refer to the act of cursing someone here. You may recall it from our EP01 breakdown. 

Ji Ah chooses this moment to come running in to announce that the island has turned into a ghost town over night, which is enough to make even Yeon pause, perplexed.  

I love the way Yeon and Ji Ah exchange looks here on the dock. They don’ t know what’s up yet, but they intend to find out. 

‘Blue Moon’~~~ This worked great scored over the drone-camera pan out. I may be slightly biased, though.  

And that concludes Episode 3. Once again, thank you to everyone who commented or left feedback on the last episode! Never hesitate to send me your thoughts, even if they’re just to say what you found funny or surprising. It helps me to know what’s of interest for one thing, but I also just enjoy chatting about the show. ;)

A brief note on pronunciation/notation: for words like ‘sa’ingeom’ and ‘mi’ryeon,’ the apostrophe is there just as a pronunciation guide. So in the case of the former, to indicate that it’s pronounced ‘sah-in’ and not ‘sine’ or ‘sane.’ Similarly, for the latter, the apostrophe is just to indicate that this should be pronounced ‘mi-ryeon’ and not ‘mir-yeon.’ I could have just as easily done this with ‘Hyeon’ui’ong’ except that’s a lot of apostrophes and I set an earlier precedent of not. It’s not an aspiration or anything fancy. Hopefully that makes sense. 

Once again, I’d like to credit my sister for being the main researcher and fact-checker for these, in addition to weighing in on all the translations. I don’t always take her advice, but I do always appreciate it haha. 

Thank you also to everyone who bought us coffee! Your support is truly felt and appreciated ♡ As usual, this took an ungodly amount of time, so every coffee helps haha. For anyone just joining us (or not), if you’d like to see more of these, please consider buying us a coffee. If you follow the link, you can buy a $2 cup of virtual coffee. This helps me to gauge how much interest there is, and also how much value people place on these. If you cared enough to read all the way to the end, please at least consider it. Once I’ve established there’s enough interest, I’ll proceed with Episode 4. ;)

[dropintomanga]

A Look at “I Sold My Life for 10K Yen Per Year”

We all have kinds of taboo topics that reinforce what’s appropriate to talk about. Religion, money, politics, sex, etc. While these are reasonable topics to avoid addressing in many cases, there’s one taboo topic that really affects everyone. It’s death. In modern urban society, we all avoid any mention of it with good reason. Yet we live our lives to a point where we may feel that death is an appropriate way to escape.

What if you felt that way? What if you realized that life is mostly meaningless and then try to get rid of your future? A manga adaptation of a well-known Japanese novel takes a look at that possibility and how it can lead to an unexpected and profound experience for the better.

This manga, “I Sold My Life for 10,000 Yen Per Year” by Shoichi Taguchi, made me wonder about how much people matter in living a life well lived.

The series, based off a novel called “3 Days of Happiness” by Sugaru Miaki,  is about a 30-year man named Kusunoki, whose life hasn’t turned out the way it expected for him. While he was an ace student in his younger days, Kusunoki has no direction in life. He spends his days living off of part-time work. One day, while selling old books and DVDs to a secondhand shop, the owner of the shop tells Kusunoki about a place that buys your lifespan for a set price depending on how much value your life has accumulated. Kusunoki finds the place, gets a quota and sells off the 30 years of his life for 300,000 yen. He only has 3 months to live. Kusunoki is assigned an observer, a girl by the name of Miyagi, whose job is to chronicle the rest of his existence. The two would find a connection through shared experiences and the story becomes a sad and beautiful story about love in the face of certain death.

Death is scary to talk about and it makes us feel alive. When confronted with their own mortality, people tend to live life differently. They may focus more on helping other people as they want to be remembered well by those that love them. Of course, there’s a flip side where people aware of their death start to become more protective of themselves and lash out at anyone different from them. A big key to this is anxiety without any sense of reflection. The more anxious you are, the less reflective you become. Self-reflection isn’t something that’s taught very well to many people (and arguably a major reason why therapy exists).

Kusunoki starts to develop a sense of self-reflection when it comes to his past relationships. A big theme of this manga is relationships and how easy it is to lose them. 

In the first chapter, there’s a flashback of Kusunoki and a girl he liked named Himeno. Both got along with each other during elementary school as they were smart and disliked by their classmates. They made a promise to get together as a couple after their ‘20s if they couldn’t find a partner by then. One of Kusunoki’s bucket list wishes was to reunite with Himeno, which Miyagi protests. Kusunoki wants to tell Himeno how he feels and goes through a makeover. The two do reunite out of chance, but their reunion turned out to be sour. It’s later revealed that Himeno was planning to kill herself in front of Kusunoki as she wrote him a letter back in high school asking for his help, but he never responded. This ties to how Kusunoki felt about life after school. He never kept in touch with his friends from those days due to him looking down on others.

However, Kusunoki’s connection to Miyagi becomes something more than observer and subject. They both fall in love with each other. Kusunoki wanted someone to acknowledge him even if the person may not always agree with his way of thinking. Miyagi later reveals that she lost a childhood friend like Kusunoki. She empathizes with Kusunoki because of their desire for closure involving their childhood friends. Plus Miyagi loved that Kusunoki made her feel important by dragging her around to do his activities with him.

When people talk about what it means to live, they think about factors involving only the self. Get a high-paying job, getting a nice house, buying a fancy car, etc. There’s no emphasis on helping someone in need, donating money to a good cause, having an enlightening conversation, and/or making someone’s day better. Stuff that involves being around other human beings that feel insecure as much as you do.

Speaking of human beings, Kusunoki’s connection with Miyagi makes him frowned upon by his local community members. That’s because Miyagi is literally invisible to other people. When he talks to her, other people see him as talking to air. They start to think he’s insane and/or delusional. Kusunoki doesn’t care since he’s accepted his circumstances. The fun part is near the end of the series is that his neighbors start to accept Miyagi is there with him. They start to feel more optimistic and happy because they see how happy Kusunoki is. He’s enjoying life more than they are.

It made me think about someone with a serious mental illness and has delusions. They are avoided because no one understands them. More often than not, they’re labeled as dangerous to talk to. But once you’re able to talk to them and not feed too much into their delusions, you start to find how lonely they are. You realize that they’re trying to live their lives as much as you are. You realize they want some kind of connection (there’s a movie about this which covers how the mentally ill may need some kind of community acceptance to manage life). I see this with Kusunoki finally getting love from his neighbors as he deep down wanted some kind of connection that makes his life meaningful after seeing how hollow he became without the lack of emotional support. 

Kusunoki’s desire for meaningful connection can be reflective of how hard it is for adults to make friends/relationships of any kind as they get older. Asking someone to be friends feels “childish” as it doesn’t always lead to external outcomes that mark “success.” I read an article from someone who believes wanting friends in contexts outside of socializing is considered shameful. Kusunoki feels like an all-too-real example of someone who was taught that you can wing it with relationships since materialism will solve all your emotional needs.

The ending to the manga (and the original novel) isn’t exactly a happy one and it teaches some great lessons. Death comes for everyone at some point and all we can do is live life in a way that matters. However, we need acceptance of one another in order to do so. When you see how the relationship between Kusunoki and Miyagi blossomed until the end, it will make you wonder if what we really need in life is someone who’s willing to embrace our emotional vulnerabilities and continue to love us despite them. It may not be the ultimate solution, but it’s an important one to consider as there’s still am alarming amount of people who want to die because no one truly hears them.

If the world realizes how having an accepting person/community can lead to better outcomes, maybe we can go beyond just a few days of happiness into a lifetime of joy. 

[charlotteu]

⟨ JENNIE KIM. CISFEMALE. SHE/HER. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, CHARLOTTE TAN is actually a descendent of H E P H A E S T U S. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY-THREE year old CIVIL ENGINEERING MAJOR from SEOUL, SOUTH KOREA has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite PRECISE & TENSE. 

TRIGGER WARNING : death, specifically child birth death

hi i’m dana! i’m ninteen and i never fuckin learned how to read! i’m in cst timezone and i really immensely love pjo, i’ve been reading the book series since fifth grade so i’m really pumped to be here! i’m sorry if my activity is spotty over this weekend, my brain has decided to tell me to do anything and everything Right Now :) anyways

full name :

charlotte chunhwa tam

nicknames / aliases :

lottie, char, chunhwa, lola, lam / little lam

major :

civil engineering

sports :

rugby and volleyball

sexuality :

lesbian

gender idenitity / pronouns :

cis - female / she/her

age / birthday :

twenty - three, december tenth, nineteen - ninety - seven

zodiac :

sagittarius

powers : 

sensing faults in metal ores and technokenesis. / charlotte has the potential for her technokenesis powers to become stronger, she just needs someone to help her work more in depth with them. sensing faults in metal ores is the stronger of her two talents, but she thinks of this particular power more as an intuition thing versus a full “power.” she is definitely … not naturally talented when it comes to this area of her life, it’s something that she’s been trying to work on since going into college. she is prone to being easily discouraged by failure when it comes to trying to grow her powers, but that’s a trait she’s trying to work on.

personality :

charlotte is known to find literal scraps of anything and manage to make something gorgeous from it - whether it’s food, metal scraps, or a nearly - ruined picnic table - it’s a skill that she takes great pride in. she constantly tries to bring her loved ones together in one form or another, which results in quite a lot of last - minute plans and “family dinners.” because of these two traits, if someone just happened to forget to plan a birthday party or a baby shower and needed it thrown together within a day or two (maybe that is on her bucket list, maybe not,) charlotte is your perfect person. regardless of this, charlotte is still considered that friend that never has their life together and has an extensional crises every few weeks.

when it comes to school work, charlotte is perfectly organized. a well - planned and well - filled out academic calendar is always in her backpack and she has a few dozen notifications on both her phone and her laptop to remind her of class assignments. she is well - known at the tutoring center for her near constant sessions to ensure to that she is totally, a hundred percent getting the assignment. her math classes is where she thrives, and she has a record of taking several math classes during the summertime to further her knowledge.

myers - briggs :

entp 

vice :

temperance

virtue :

distrusting

hobbies :

gardening, poetry, welding, drawing, sculpting, learning about technological advances, running, and yoga

backstory :

      born in seoul, south korea to miss. tam, she had been visiting her parents when charlotte was born prematurely. ( there had been a complication in the birth that no one’s ever explained to charlotte, she just knows that her mom was alive long enough to hold her daughter for the first & the last time. ) legend has it it was silent in the hospital when the news broke, a rage washing through the family as they realize the expense that they had to pay for their grandchild. it’s her uncle that steps forward to take the child - a comfortable life in the epirus region of greece is what awaited the new family unit.

      life as a bachelor to the life as a single father was one that he greatly struggled with, but one he did not give up on. he always did his best to involve both the local culture along with charlotte’s heritage into her life - this involved food from both regions, learning greek and korean, participating in their holidays, etc. etc. no one could deny how happy the pair were, and how well it was going.

      when she turns twelve, she starts to develop ... slightly unusual powers that always came as a shock, especially considering how randomly occurring the episodes were. both charlotte and her uncle chalk it up to a weird sense of intuition before it starts to happen too much. ( her uncle doesn’t tell her how he found out her godly origin story. ) it’s a cloudy day when he sits her down & explains everything to her, drawing out the rest of her life until she goes to college. a life hidden away from everyone around her, a home school academic career that takes place while the two of them travel around the world. there’s a hidden element of paranoia as her uncle constantly moves them around & forces her to focus on her studies.

      this quiet life sealed away from the outside world leaves her doing whatever she can to keep busy. building whatever she can, trying to stay as occupied as much as she can. it results in a suitcase full of little trinkets by the time she’s six months into home schooling. the next few years of her life pass her by in a terrible haze as she does everything she can to catch up to the life that has been set out for her. her life begins to slow down when she gets into college, a safe haven where she can finally let go of the anxiety  that comes with the expectations.

[puddygeeks]

Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 53: Jᴜs Dʀᴇɪɴ Jᴜs Dᴀᴜɴ

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for.

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Chapter Fifty-Three

I woke with a gasp as water slapped across my face and sat up shivering to find Arlo holding an empty bucket with a cold stare. The entire contents of my tent were soaked and the few items of clothing that I kept on to sleep in were stuck to my skin. My gaze fell on Arlo with a heavy accusation behind my eyes, but she was entirely unfazed by the aggression of my posture.

“You did not wake when I called. Get ready to leave.” She shrugged in a nonchalant manner and allowed the bucket to clatter to the ground as she exited the tent. I cursed under my breath at my rude awakening and busied myself with dressing for the day. When I stepped outside, I found Arlo waiting with the horses and as I approached her, she reached out to hand me something. A set of well worn diggers were placed in my hands and I glanced up at her in surprise. “These will suit your style. Use them well.” Despite having just provided me with a gift, her words still carried the air of an order and I nodded obediently. “Food is running low. You need to learn to live off the land if you are to be one of us. Let’s go.” She directed and I followed her lead to mount the horses.

We rode through the open spaces of the area for a while and I noticed that I was starting to grow familiar with the land. Octavia had explained that living in villages and constantly moving had given her a good sense of direction in the past, but this had made little sense to me until now. Arlo led us to the edge of a forest and instructed me to secure the horses. We started through the trees on foot and I tried to remain light footed as Lincoln had taught me. She spent some time setting traps in the area and I watched closely as she carried out the steps as if they were as mundane to her as breathing. It was fascinating to observe her tracking and although she only shared small nuggets of information as she worked rather than teaching me in detail, I lapped up every shred of knowledge that I could. 

Arlo made catching large predatory animals seem obnoxiously simple and she guided me through the process of stripping the animal for its meat and fur. I was impressed by the grounder way of using everything and silently followed her with the packaged parts of our catch to a trader in a small house in the middle of nowhere. She thrust a scarf into my hands to wrap around me as a hood, warning that I should be careful not to be recognised here and instructed me to wait outside whilst she did her business. I was feeling strained from the long day but still enjoyed the opportunity to expand my skill set as I considered how useful these lessons could be for the survival of Arkadia. Once she had finished, we made our way back to our horses and I noticed that something in her attitude seemed to have relaxed slightly since her cold reception this morning.

“Why do you carry anger?” Her sudden question caught me off guard and I met her eyes with an uncertain expression. She rolled her eyes at my reaction and continued to tread through the mud with a stern feel to her movements. “It is written all over your face; your rage, your loss, your fear. You are dominated by them. A warrior is guided by their feelings, not controlled by them. What do you hold onto?” She asked with a directness that I still hadn’t adjusted to and I cleared my throat awkwardly.

“I don’t mean to carry it. I’ve tried to let it go but I can’t.” I muttered in a poor attempt at an excuse and she fixed me with a scrutinising look over her shoulder that encouraged me to explain. “I was held captive in Mount Weather, with many other of my people. The things that they did to us haunt me. I see them every night in my dreams, over and over again.” I described as I kept my gaze trained on the ground and I felt her posture stiffen at the mention of the mountain. It seemed to be a taboo subject amongst grounders and I had to admit that I didn’t mind, as I was not keen to discuss it either.

“The mountain has fallen. Your people took their vengeance. Why do you still carry it?” She enquired in an analysing manner that reminded me of Lincoln and I sighed thoughtfully. It seemed to be such a straight-forward concept when she presented it in this way, but without the emotions to cloud her judgement, she was unable to understand the continued trauma that the past had on me. 

“It’s not that simple. We are still dealing with the impact of the experience. My loved ones are hurting and the death of the mountain men hasn’t stopped that. I’m angry because even in death they are still hurting us and I can’t do anything to make them stop.” I revealed as I found my voice rising again and she studied me with interest.

“You have won the war but you cannot forget the suffering. You must grow from it, but instead you are resentful of it.” She stated in a calculated summary and I stared back at her in amazement for how easily she was able to navigate to the core of the issue. Her explanation felt like a revelation for me and cleared some of the fog that filled my mind whenever something reminded me of our shared pain. “Focus on the battle before you, not those of your past.” She advised in a mixture of an order and calm reasoning, and as she set off moving again in a determined stomp, her movements expressed that this conversation was over.

Her words repeated in my head for days as we continued to travel towards an unknown location and she frequently paused to put me through my paces with sparring. I could already feel an improvement in my techniques and was pleased that the hard work was having a positive effect. We hadn’t returned to her camp in days and although I wondered where she was leading us, I knew better than to ask questions. I resolved that she would tell me when I needed to know and instead allowed myself the time to reflect on my emotions. I continued to feel the lingering pressure of my anger in the back of my mind, but Arlo’s reflections seemed to have eased it for the time being as I considered how I could grow from the experience as she had instructed.

We rode until early afternoon in silence and I tried to untangle the web of conflicting thoughts that bounced around in my mind. Without a word, Arlo slowed to a stop and pointed for me to tie the horses out of sight in the nearby trees. I ensured that they weren’t easily spotted from the dirt road that we’d halted near and returned to the open space by the road beside her with a confused expression. She pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from her pocket and held it up for me to inspect. I could see a small list of notes with an unfamiliar seal on the bottom that seemed to carry a heavy importance and glanced back at her expectantly.

“There is a pack of ravagers in the area that are attacking villages where the warriors have been called to fight. They’ve decimated three villages of children and elders. The Commander has sentenced them to death. We have our kill orders; this is where they must meet their fate.” She explained, before stowing the paper carefully back in her belt and I realised from the placement that this was the same note that Indra gave her before. Indra’s earlier statement replayed in my mind about assigning her orders from the Commander and comprehension struck me that I was indirectly serving her too now. Arlo studied the dirt road with an intense concentration and I cleared my throat.

“Alright. What’s the plan?” I asked with a patient tone and she thinned her eyes at me over her shoulder. Although we hadn’t been together long, I’d already started to recognise some of her expressions and could see a vast selection of ideas racing past in her eyes. She glanced between me and the road, and when she next faced me, there was a determined smirk set on her lips.

“Live bait.” She drawled in an overly satisfied manner and my stomach lurched in dread. As she briefly detailed the plan, I felt my newfound confidence in our partnership quickly fizzling away into terror. Since our first interaction, she’d shown little to no concern about potentially killing me through her tests and I feared that this could be another instance where the risk was greater than I was prepared for. 

Laid on our fronts in the grass, we waited for darkness to fall on the road that led to the village and Arlo informed me that she had calculated this location to be their next target. Once the light had faded, I positioned myself in clear sight on their route and draped my clothing in a way that made me look ravaged. For once, I was glad of my extensive bruising that covered my body as I attempted to look vulnerable and hoped that I would be able to catch their interest. In my mind, a voice was screaming out reasons that this was a terrible idea, as Arlo hid out of sight with my daggers and I prayed that her plan wouldn’t be the death of me. She warned that our targets seemed to go into hiding after each hunt, which had been the reason for their long standing rampage. As a result, Arlo was adamant that an ambush was the only option to find them, other than allowing the sacrifice of another village to draw them out, which was not up for deliberation.

The crunching of footsteps and deep voices drifted in the air from nearby and I tried to calm my nerves as my body chilled against the cool grass. From the arrogant boasting of their conversation, it was clear that they were indeed those responsible for the raiding and it took all of my self control to remain still as they closed in on me with interested commentary. The moment that their hands grazed my side, I sprung to my feet and in a move that had been well drilled into my mind, used my leg to sweep one of them to the ground. They were immediately riled by actions and dropped into a defensive crouch with my fists held out in front of me to protect myself. The group began to circle me hungrily and my heartbeat grew rapid as I assessed my chances in an unarmed scrap against their weapons. One of them lunged forward with a spear and I grabbed the handle to drag him off balance, before promptly kicking the back of his knee joint. A punch caught me off guard and I almost lost my footing as my face throbbed, but just managed to fall backwards in time to avoid the next hit.

“Now, sky girl!” Arlo’s voice was sharp as she fired a well aimed arrow from the trees and in her next movement, tossed my daggers to my feet. I snatched them up without a moment's hesitation and managed to deflect a heavy attack from one of the raiders. Behind them, I witnessed my tutor tearing through the group as if they weren’t hulking giants against two women and although I fought as hard as I could, my attacks were like child's play beside her experienced brutality. There was hardly a piece of clothing on me afterwards that was not covered in blood and despite wiping thoroughly, I couldn’t remove the splattering from my face. Arlo stared down at the bodies with disdain and I was afraid to interrupt as she seemed to seething at them. “Jus drein jus daun.” She growled as she glared at the pile and turned her attention to me with a determined expression. It struck me that this may be too similar to the circumstances of the death of her village and as I considered this comparison, the raw pain that glistened in her eyes confirmed my theory.

“What are your orders, seda?” I enquired calmly as I waited patiently for her to decide on our next actions and struggled not to spiral on the justification of my actions. The blood that stuck to my skin felt suffocating and instead I focused on the hurt in Arlo’s expression to remain rooted in the present.

“We burn them. Then we tell the villages that they are safe.” She declared firmly as she finally regained her usual controlled face and without question, I gathered supplies for the task.

***

My hands strung from scrubbing as I perched by the river and attempted to remove the blood from my clothing. It seemed that no matter how much I washed them, I could not clean away my sins and despite having thoroughly bathed, I could still sense the viscid substance on my skin. Doubt crept in on whether this journey was a mistake, as I considered that my intention of becoming stronger seemed to be the only goal that was being achieved. Instead of dealing with my emotions, I had murdered another short list of people with the only difference that these were under the orders of another and I couldn’t decide if this was better or worse than my choices in Mount Weather. A female voice cleared their throat so close that they were almost on my shoulder and I startled so hard that I came close to falling into the river myself.

“Guilty people are easily shaken.” Arlo stated in a cold tone as I remained with my back to her and attempted to not appear intimidated by her words. I knew that if I faced her, my eyes would likely reveal my state of mind so I continued to scour the fabrics as a distraction. “The blood of your kill is shameful to you?” She probed in a way that was closer to a statement than a question, but I understood her well enough now to know that she would be expecting an answer.

“I killed those people without even seeing their faces or knowing their names. I didn’t question it, I just did it. Is that something I should be proud of?” I responded calmly as I kept my eyes trained on my task and anticipated a lecture or stern lesson for my doubts. I was surprised when she took a seat by my side and studied me with an obvious curiosity.

“Those men killed innocent people, ended many lives. In the villages they murdered children in their beds, cut elders down as they ran for their lives. You delivered justice in the way that they knew would happen when they chose to commit these crimes. Jus drein jus daun. That is our way.” She detailed with a well practised control in the way that she spoke and I shifted awkwardly as the horror of their crimes crawled under my skin to make me feel nauseous. Her words were an immediate reduction on the weight of my regret and as I involuntarily imagined the scenes of the devastation in the villages, the punishment quickly began to feel inadequate for the atrocities they’d committed.

“Then, how are we any better than the mountain? Killing whoever opposes us for the survival of our own people and ways?” I thought aloud and she furrowed her brows at the mention of their enemies. My stomach lurched at the concept that I might have overstepped my boundaries by comparing them to their longstanding adversary and I returned my attention to the washing to avoid her gaze.

“Our people are given a choice. Follow the rules and live in peace, or break them and you will be punished.” She argued in a firmer tone than before that indicated an annoyance buried underneath her cool demeanour and I sighed as I processed this statement. “What would your people do with men such as these?” She enquired with a genuine interest and my gaze snapped back up to her in shock. Until now, it didn’t often occur to me how little Arlo and the rest of the grounders knew of our people, besides considering us to be soft. They weren’t aware that our ways weren’t all that different, as I reflected on some of the morally questionable decisions made by the council for our survival on the Ark. I considered this situation under the leadership of Arkadia for a while as I realised that I was unsure of the answer in our new society.

“Before we would probably have killed them too. We didn’t have the resources to waste on criminals.” I revealed with an uncomfortable feeling in my chest and she seemed both surprised and satisfied by this information. “But since we arrived here...I guess probably exile them?” I concluded as I recalled the decisions that had been made thus far to distance our people from our previous laws and she tutted under her breath in disapproval.

“So that they can harm others outside of your borders? This is selfish.” She growled bitterly and from her reaction, I got the impression that this was not the first time our selfish actions had affected her, or the grounders as a whole. “Or perhaps they will find allies and return for vengeance, or power? Also foolish and unwise.” She listed with an expression that was thoroughly unimpressed with this imaginary decision and I recalled Murphy’s exile. I reminded myself that this punishment eventually resulted in the death of multiple camp members, and almost Bellamy, in an attempt for him to overtake the camp. As I considered her argument, I found myself agreeing with her point of view, despite my initial reservations. “These men were given the mercy of a quick death. By our laws, they would have been executed in an agonising ceremony, but it would have taken a large force to capture them alive and the Commander does not have this to waste. They deserved their fate. You are simply the hand to deliver it. There should be no guilt in this.” She clarified with a stern expression as I raised my eyes to meet hers and I nodded in understanding, grateful for a new viewpoint to reflect on. 

We shared a meal in silence as I turned her words over in my mind and tried to convince myself to liberate myself of the guilt. My gut instinct still urged me to persist in learning from her and although I could no longer recognise whether my decisions were improving or not, I listened keenly to our next briefing of tasks on her list.

“Someone is causing unrest against the Commander. There are tensions in the city that Indra believes are being exploited. We must find the source.” She instructed as she stared down at the piece of paper with intensity and I was relieved to discover that this assignment didn’t immediately seem to involve killing someone. “We will go to the trade posts. If they intend to gather numbers, they will have to venture there eventually. That is where we will lure them out.” She stated as she stashed the list away and I found myself wondering how the Commander had gained such a level of commitment from Arlo. Perhaps it was simple as providing her with a purpose after the loss of her daughter and home, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was deeper than that. She began to noisily clear things in camp and this shook me from my thoughts. I took this as my signal to get ready to leave and rushed to ensure that I had everything needed.

Arlo did a thorough check of my clothing and adjusted my hood before we even entered the trading outposts to ensure that I would not draw any unwanted attention. It was fascinating to survey her once inside the bustling locale of the market. The way that she flowed through the crowds with no effort given to her movements and seemed completely at home in the chaotic environment was mesmerising to me, as I struggled to navigate without bumping every person that I passed. It was obvious now that she had grown up as an active part of the grounder community, not always as an outcast and the closer that I observed her, the more I noticed about her. The way that she held herself provided a subtle indication that she had been in a position of authority; the scope of her observation that revealed her deep distrust of everyone and her attention to detail, and the confidence with which she presented herself as if she already expected the respect of whomever she was speaking to.

Although we remained close enough to monitor events and conversations, she ensured that we were never in the centre of everything to minimise risk. There was a remarkable amount of sights to see and I struggled to focus on any particular goal under the sensory overload of grounder culture that surrounded me. Time flew past in the excitement of the markets and despite having only heard some minor whispers at best, Arlo was determined that we were on the right trail. I began to wonder if she was withholding some kind of clues from me, as she followed some invisible lead like a bloodhound. By the third day of hanging around, we overheard a conversation that gripped us both. There was a swift response to some criticism of the alliance with the sky people, which offered a meeting to any party who might be interested in supporting a more worthy Commander.

I stood as stiff as a board as I listened as keenly as I could, whilst trying to be inconspicuous. The informant grew nervous and listed a location to meet later on, before leaving us alone to continue examining items in the marketplace as if we’d heard nothing. Once confident that we were not being watched, Arlo grabbed my arm to guide me from the stalls. We returned to our horses to fully arm up and as we headed toward the meeting point, I noticed a subtle fury in her eyes that only further fuelled my earlier suspicions about her commitment to the Commander.

“Remember, we take the leader alive.” Arlo emphasised as we crunched through the trees into the woodlands around the trade posts and I nodded in acknowledgement.

We split up to approach our target from opposite sides of the clearing and I was assigned the role of ambusher whilst Arlo distracted the informant by masquerading as an interested ally. I crept low to the ground and concentrated on making my steps as quiet as possible. There was a set of men awaiting Arlo, either side of a smaller framed person who wore a hood and kept their back to me. I analysed that this was the person that we’d heard earlier and knew that this would be our target to capture. I observed as Arlo strolled up to them with a poker face that could only be developed through years of sly tactics and ensured that I was well placed to strike at a moment's notice. As soon as I was sure that she was close enough, I leapt forward to capture the smallest target whilst Arlo efficiently cut down the two guards. The informant struggled against my grip and it was a challenge to contain her, until she was quickly injected with something that I hadn’t seen used before now. She went limp in my hands and dropped quickly to the ground.

“Azgeda, should have known.” Arlo commented as she pushed back the hood to reveal several purposeful burns on the face of our captive in tribal patterns. I felt my gut drop at the mention of this clan again and was conflicted on whether to mention the last attack from them that Octavia and I had survived. Before I could decide, she straightened to standing and fixed me with a stern expression. “I need to take her to Polis for questioning. The Commander will want to investigate this herself. I cannot take you with me whilst tensions with your people are mounting. You are to meet me where Indra signals in four days.” She ordered whilst I struggled to comprehend that I had just been given free time and blinked back at her with a blank expression. “Four days to decide if you can live with your choices and fight on, or do not come back. Do not disappoint me sky girl.” She added coldly as she thinned her eyes and her withering stare snapped me from my shock.

I assisted her in transporting the Azgedan to the horses and as she galloped off with her evidence gracelessly slung across the horse, I directed myself back to our camp. It felt strange to return to my original clothes and as I gradually released my hair from the tight braids, I felt as if I hardly recognised myself any longer. It was as if I had split myself into two people and the transition between the two was uncomfortable as I strained to remember where each belonged. I was relieved that the worst of my bruising seemed to have faded now and though it was significantly better than when Octavia left, I still appeared as if I had a gruelling time away from home. I packed my grounder clothes into a bag in case I needed them in a rush and mounted the horse to navigate back to Arkadia.

Crossing the field in front of our gates, the sensation rushed over me that I had been away for years and I felt butterflies in my stomach at the thought of returning. I prayed that I would not return to chaos, as I needed some time to simply recharge after the intensity of Arlo. Once near the gates, I waited patiently whilst the guard tower radioed for permission to allow me inside and had to laugh at the absurdity of this when I’d barely been gone for ten days. The realisation slowly sunk in that if Bellamy had not already been aware of my arrival before, then he’d probably hear on the radio now and I was unsure what to expect from his greeting. I trotted inside with my usual array of bruises and hoped that he would not make a scene about the state of me. It was a relief to plod through the courtyard with little more than a few polite nods from nearby residents as I passed and I wandered to the stables to settle my horse calmly. Turning to leave, I found Octavia standing in the doorway with her arms crossed.

“Ah, the wanderer returns at last.” She pouted in a tone that indicated that she was unimpressed with my absence and I rolled my eyes at her in disapproval.

“I said I was going to wait until I looked better to come back. I wasn’t away that long! And I checked in with Bellamy, he said camp was fine.” I replied defensively and she shook her head at me as she slowly broke into a smirk. It was obvious that she was too relieved that I was home to maintain her annoyance and I let out a slow breath as I relaxed.

“Well, you still look like hell. Just so you know.” She stated with a brow raised mockingly and I chuckled at her blunt attitude. I began to stroll lazily out of the stables and she remained close by my side. “Bellamy and the others are out on the rover for a while yet, so it sounds like you have some free time. I remember you making me a promise when I saw you last.” She probed with her eyes glistening with a clear agenda and I groaned in rebellion as I recalled our conversation.

“Tavi, I don’t need to see a doctor, I’m fine.” I argued, already regretting my previous comment about seeing Abby and she halted on the spot to fix me with a scathing glare. I gulped in dread as I anticipated her response and shuffled avoidantly on the spot.

“Oh really?” She enquired in a baiting tone and I nodded back in stubborn determination. She reached out to push my waist and a fierce howl escaped my lips as I stumbled away from her in shock. “Yeah, really looks like it. Come on, let’s get to medical.” She declared with a hint of a victorious confidence in her voice and I sighed in frustration, whilst remaining disobediently on the spot. “You can either walk there willingly, or we can fight and you can end up being carried there in a stretcher. Your choice.” She ordered with complete seriousness to her threat and I reluctantly accepted my fate. In all honesty, I wanted my time here to be as restful as possible and if sitting on a bed whilst Abby fussed around me would get Octavia out of my hair, I was willing to begrudgingly endure it.

[popwasabi]

“They Called Us Enemy”: George Takei Recalls Interment and Its Cautionary History

Written by George Takei, Justin Eisinger, Steven Scott

Illustrated by Harmony Becker

 This past weekend I got to make my annual pilgrimage to the nerd Mecca capital of the world; San Diego Comic-Con.

It’s a fun and often exhausting experience between panel hopping to see your favorite movie or TV show actors speak and standing in line often for hours just to see them or to buy merch in the Dealer’s hall.

(At least it wasn’t hot this year.)

Every year though, somehow or another, I always meet at least one celebrity be it intentionally or accidentally. Last year I got to run into Billy West, best known for his voice acting roles on Ren &Stimpy and Futurama, the year before that it was MMA legend Josh Barnett who is a huge comic book geek and before that I met my all-time favorite TV composer Bear McCreary. This year I got to not only meet, but cross a massive name off my bucket list, in George Takei.

(^It me...)

Takei needs no introduction of course; the outspoken OG Star Trek alum is now firmly an internet personality of sorts and hugely popular figure amongst my generation and nerdom alike. But he wasn’t there at Comic-Con to talk about Star Trek or any number of Science Fiction related items to his acting past. No, this time he was here to promote his new graphic novel “They Called Us Enemy” based on a much darker period in his life; the infamous internment of Japanese Americans in concentration camps across the country during World War II.

Takei has never been shy about his opinions on politics and society and definitely very open about his time in those camps but this graphic novel helps not only shed a light on his own personal experience there and all the nuanced feelings that came from that but just how deplorable Executive Order 9066 was on American History.

Now, with the recreation of concentration camps this time along the southern border indefinitely imprisoning migrants seeking asylum in our country, Takei’s graphic novel reminds us all why this is so wrong and why we should not turn our backs again.

“They Called Us Enemy” is one-part history book detailing key events, people and often distressing quotes from our politicians on Japanese-American concentration camps but three-parts a visual and written history of Takei’s family journey from pre-WWII internment to the present. Through his parents, his father a first generation Japanese American, his mother second generation to how the events of Pearl Harbor unlawfully stripped them of their dignity, they try their best to make sense of the situation while keeping their children from baring the weight of this shameful period of history. What is an “extended vacation” for Takei and his siblings is a prolonged agonizing experience of doubt, humiliation and degradation for his parents and the toll it takes on his father especially is told through the panels of this graphic novel.

I think the most astounding thing about this graphic novel is that it isn’t especially bitter. It’s upsetting for sure, and bitter in parts, as Takei certainly wants his reader to feel how his family felt through this period in American history but he makes a point of showing how inevitably in all things in America, the wheels of justice may be slow but they do not stop moving forward as long as there are those willing to fight for it. How Takei’s family handles this humiliating and degrading experience is both brave and sad all at once. Takei, for his and his younger siblings, part are completely ignorant of the situation they’ve been forced into and his parents do their best to keep things as normal as possible for them through this ordeal treating it as a long “vacation” for them. They do this despite the fact they’ve been forcibly torn away from their homes, given no time to pack their things, given nametags like cattle and forced to sleep and live in conditions befitting of farm animals.

America may not have led anyone into death camps, during this period, as the Germans did with the Jews but as Takei points out it was still based on fear of a perceived “enemy” and still forced Japanese Americans into these horrid conditions and to do things that our constitution and Bill of Rights explicitly states against for its citizens.

But for Takei, as a child back then, it was an adventure of sorts for he and his siblings that was shielded by his parents to keep him from grasping the full scope of what was really going on. In this way, the graphic novel is somewhat bittersweet; sweet that George and his siblings through the tireless effort of their parents was able to enjoy some level of a childhood within the camps but bitter that as he grew older he finally understood why he was there.

Through Takei’s writings and Harmony becker’s wonderful illustrations we get a grasp of the simultaneous joy and pain that Takei associates with this period in his life; how his mom, when given little time to grab her own personal belongings when the soldiers came, grabbed only things for her children such as sweets and a sewing machine to fashion them new clothes in the camps as to keep their childhoods alive, and how his father helped organize camp leadership and helped lead these disillusioned Americans who had no idea what the future held or if there was a future there at all.

It was in these camps in fact that Takei discovered his love for acting and theater, as funny as that may sound, as camp members were able to show movies within its barb-wired fences. Takei would use this inspiration when his family returned to Los Angeles to become an actor down the line and eventually take up his famous role as Sulu in “Star Trek” and the reason largely was because of the camps. As the graphic novel states Gene Rodenberry (Star Trek’s original creator) wanted a show that envisioned a future where a diverse cast of people worked together for the benefit of all humanity and having an Asian American not only be present in this cast but be a resourceful, responsible lead was paramount. Takei understanding how taking on a role that could give Asian Americans agency in popular media wanted the part immediately as it could help show the country that people who looked like him weren’t the enemy.

Fifty plus years later and he is still advocating for that representation and need for diversity today.

(Being God damn fabulous at it too)

The graphic novel does lay out many things that most average Americans are probably not familiar with; the fact that much of these Japanese-Americans belongings were liquefied and sold off after they were taken from their homes, that many of them tried to join the fight against Japan after Pearl Harbor but were turned away because of their race, and of course after the US finally needed more troops they conscripted members of these very same camps, people they had openly vilified and wrongly detained, to enlist later to become the 442nd Battalion the most decorated group of its kind during World War II.

It’s again infuriating and uplifting all at once; as Takei points out the people who chose to enlist from the camps were as much patriots and heroes as those who chose not to and who could blame them? Many Japanese Americans saw it as an opportunity to prove they were indeed Americans and show the country that had wronged them that they were as patriotic as their white counterparts. For the others it was an act of civil disobedience showing that they didn’t need prove anything to the country that had turned their backs on them.

Takei’s family chose the latter in this regard and nearly lost everything in the process.

The path toward justice is often a long and degrading road for victims and the unjustly accused. For Japanese Americans during this time it took damn near half a century before reparations were made and by then many of its oldest prisoners had passed away not knowing that America had admitted their guilt. 

Its sad and if reading about this part of history and seeing what’s happening now at the border doesn’t make your blood boil, I’m not sure what will.

“They Call Us Enemy” does a great job of not only informing Americans on what happened during this time period and Takei’s very personal story in between all that, but offers a stark warning about repeating the mistakes of the past as we are now at the border. We cannot keep going with this cycle of endlessly vilifying folks for simply looking the part of “the enemy” regardless of their legal status or us being at war with countries that happen to look like them. 

I’m of the mind that people deserve inalienable rights regardless of citizenry. Locking up people and throwing away the key indefinitely and ripping children from the arms of their screaming mothers (Something we didn’t even do to Japanese Americans) without trial is FUCKING WRONG PERIOD and ill-befitting of country that self-labels itself as the “greatest” on Earth.

If we are to pretend we are the good guys in any of these types of conflicts we better start acting like it. FUCKING NAZIS in Nuremberg were given trials after World War II; you cannot tell me an “illegal” doesn’t deserve a chance at a hearing.

I’m often very angry and bitter about the state of the country these days and where we appear to be trending as a society but Takei’s book is not all doom in gloom when it comes to its warning on where we currently stand on justice. As the graphic novel states:

Our strength as a country is that we are capable of change, we are capable of becoming the pillars of democracy and justice that we profess to be through the valiant efforts of those who fight for it. Whether it was the Abolitionists of the Civil War period, Martin Luther King during the Civil Rights era or for these wrongly interred folks, Fred Korematsu, Yuri Kochiyama, Wayne Collins, or Daniel K. Inouye, we will always find a way to move forward as long as brave individuals come together to fight for what’s right.

We can be those brave individuals too, so long as we stand up, voice our disapproval and move the needle of our democracy. We still have all the power here to affect change. We cannot let the wrongs of the past continue on in our present, our democracy and the very fabric of decency, respect, and justice depend on it. Takei’s family and 120,000 plus Japanese Americans who suffered through this depend on us being better for the present and future.

Don’t turn your back on it. Not now, not ever.

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

At the Drumbeats Festival! 

Guess which camp had the honor of hosting the Drumbeats Festival? Actually, it was kind of a last minute thing. Sunny’s camp was originally going to do it but scheduling conflicts happened and since my camp’s the nearest, they decided to move it here. First the Happy Floral Festival and now this? It’s been a lucky year!

So for the past week Isabelle, Katie, Daisy Jane, and I have been working hard to get things ready for the festivities. Since we’ve had experience with the Happy Floral Festival, preparation was a lot less daunting this time around. I’ll admit, it was tight, but we managed to get it done.

Because things were a bit hectic due to last minute changes, we had help from some of the performers who arrived early. To my surprise, there were some familiar faces at the festival. One of them happens to be Hawk, the last of the BFF Squad who finally made it to the camp! His sister Paloma is one of the performers along with her partner Phoebe in a duo called Lo-Pheebs, which is a play on lo-fi. What a cool name! I’ve only met Paloma a handful of times and she’s always fun to hang around with. Phoebe perfectly compliments her in personality as they’re chill and laid back while Paloma’s enthusiastic and playfully aggressive.

Another familiar face were the Thornton bros. Ever since the entourage officially disbanded I haven’t seen much of Josh and Lake, and even less of Demetri. Shortly after leaving the entourage, Josh became Lo-Pheeb’s manager, which was unexpected but turned out to be a good fit for him. Meanwhile Lake’s been focusing on his acting career as well as trying to become an influencer and Demetri’s studying at Seashore Path while working at Kitchen Cove on the weekends. In short, they’ve all been super busy to the point that they rarely saw each other anymore, which was surprising to me as all three are super close.

The Drumbeats Festival is a music festival where all kinds of artists come together to perform. It has an indie, folk rock, lo-fi vibe that makes you feel chill and pumped up at the same time. I wasn’t familiar with many of the artists so it was great listening to and discovering new music. Lo-Pheebs is definitely on top of my list of new artists to check out! 

Lo-Pheebs became a thing over a year ago, shortly after Paloma’s band Out of Sight disbanded. She met Phoebe while on tour a few years back and they became friends, later partners. Lake was the one who suggested Josh become their manager because he felt that his brother needed someone to boss around that wasn’t him or Demetri. Josh is the type of guy who can go a little overboard when it comes to being supportive, something his brothers know all too well. Paloma’s similar in that way too so that’s why they get along so well. At least Phoebe’s there to balance them out as they’re good at handling conflict and helping others see the bigger picture, something that Josh and Paloma admit they’re working on.

This year was supposed to be a busy one for Lo-Pheebs as they were finally breaking into the charts. The festival was actually their first performance in months as they decided to take some time off touring after finishing a major one earlier this year. Josh had to leave abruptly towards the end of their last tour when Lake was badly hurt while on vacation. Also, in between tour stops, Paloma was helping Hawk in Crescent Moon and Phoebe had their own family stuff to deal with. So with everything being so hectic, the duo decided to postpone their next tour and focus on studio work, resulting in their first EP, Bring Down the Beats.

Now that Lake’s almost fully recovered, Josh is slowly getting back into the swing of things. It’s good to see Lake again, especially since he almost died in a freak accident. So naturally his brothers are a bit overprotective of him, making sure that he doesn’t exert himself and such. He can’t run around and explore with his bros, but he’s perfectly content hanging around the camp and taking pics to post online. Honestly, I’m surprised that he doesn’t have more followers.

Hawk and Demetri are an unlikely duo I never saw coming. In a way, they’re kinda like Paloma and Phoebe - the enthusiastic and easily excited one and the chill and quiet one. They’re both into computers and tech stuff - Demetri’s a self taught hacker and Hawk likes to build stuff. Them building something together is either genius or dangerous - let’s be honest, if anyone were to accidentally build a killer robot, it’ll probably be them. Still, I’m interested in a collaboration between the two just to see what they can come up with.

In between setting up for the festival, we also took the time to hang out at the camp. Hawk was going to meet up with Paloma and Phoebe at the festival so when he heard that it was being moved to the camp, he decided to drop by early. So Paloma, Phoebe, Josh, Lake, and Demetri tagged along as they too wanted to help out and spend a couple days at the camp. When we weren’t doing festival prep, we went fishing, bug catching, swimming, cloud gazing, seashell hunting, and foraging - all the fun outdoorsy stuff that one does while camping. It was also a good way to wind back from the stress of setting up a festival, which we definitely needed.

The Drumbeats Festival was a blast! Like I said, I’ve discovered a bunch of new artists to check out. I also learned a lot about drums, which was unexpected, but now that I think about it, the festival is called Drumbeats for a reason. Who knew that drums can be so interesting? Some of the stands are interactive - not only you learn about different kinds of drums, you also get to play with them! 

There’s nothing more perfect than a fun festival under a starry night. Hawk says he’s been into constellations lately, especially now that he has a newfound appreciation for them after spending a couple months out in space. It’s cute seeing him and Celeste gush over stars and galaxies! 

We got to see the Starstruck Nebula, something that only shows up once in a blue moon so that was super amazing! The books were right, words can’t accurately describe how it looks. The closest I can come up with is like a rainbow kaleidoscope made up of stardust and flames, which probably doesn’t make sense now that I think about it. Now I can cross off another thing from my bucket list!

While messing around with drum tracks, Josh and I got to talking about the future. By that, we mean Hawk, Paloma, Lake, and their significant others. Paloma’s with Phoebe, Hawk with Kat, and now Lake and Tom are a thing. According to Josh, it was kinda a will they, won’t they relationship - though it was a surprise that they ended up together. Lake did say his near death experience caused him reevaluate some things and they spent a lot of time together while he was recovering so it makes sense. 

As for Hawk and Kat, there’s been talk of an engagement in the near future. AJ, Elara, and Micah have mentioned it - Micah being fully convinced that a conversation he overheard between his sister and dad has to do with Kat seeking advice on proposing. Devi, Leyla, Tulippa, Misty, and DT have speculated on it as well. So far, nothing from Kat and Hawk themselves so it’s still all up in the air. Let’s just say that when one of them finally pops the question, we’ve got the champagne bottles ready.

Josh also talked a bit about Lake’s ordeal and how it shook him and his brothers up. For a while, before the accident, things were rocky between the two brothers. Most of the time it was minor, petty disagreements, usually involving one of Josh’s schemes gone wrong. They still don’t always see eye to eye, but things were really bad around the time between the entourage disbanding and the accident. And in the middle of all that was Demetri, who was trying to keep the peace as he hates it when his brothers fight, especially when they try to drag him into the conflict. 

When everything came to a crashing halt, Josh had to come to terms with some hard truths. The main ones being that he can’t fix everything and that sometimes it’s not okay. Being the oldest and having practically raised his brothers by himself, he’s super protective of them. So it’s understandable why Lake and Demetri sometimes feel smothered by him. He’s been working on giving his bros space and their bond has grown stronger since then.

I’ll admit, sometimes while catching up with Josh I wonder if this is the same guy I met at Rave’s party (it was a weird time and no, I will not elaborate), but not in a bad way. Of course, he’s still the same happy go lucky, playful, and easily excitable goofball we all know and love - now with a touch of emotional maturity. He and his brothers don’t always have it easy so it’s good to hear that things are getting better. Seeing the three of them together not only reminds me of their close bond - something I always admired about them - but also how much they’ve been through. 

I’m glad that Josh is finally able to find some peace for himself. Being out on the road with Lo-Pheebs really helped him find a purpose outside of his bros and in return, Lake and Demetri can live their own lives without worrying about leaving Josh behind.

After having a busy week, there’s nothing more rewarding than a night full of fun festivities!  On a side note, Lo-Pheebs is on the roster for Concert in the Stars, so the camp will be a stop on their tour, which is set to begin in a couple months. Lake and I are making plans for him and his brothers to spend a weekend at the camp during an event. Also, Hawk and I are also making plans for a BFF Squad camping adventure. So there’s a lot to look forward to in the future.