#I'll do him justice SOMEDAY

[xbimbogutzzx]

@salandersan and @xbonecandyx gave me ideas,,,,

Law belongs to gatobob

[k-l-ng]

Shen Qingqiu, Shen Jiu

And the Xiu Ya sword I forgot to draw

[averlym]

(click for better resolution, etc.)

[emelkae]

Hi caramel

Attempting to do blorbsday again. Which of your ocs have the most vibes over anything? They have less traits than things that you feel about them. They're a mood more than a person. (I love vibe ocs.)

That'd definitely be the OCs from my abandoned Wielder story, especially because most of their traits have been extracted and reallocated to my War Machines series characters. So the only one who seems to have maintained his vibes is Vaekora.

Tattoos trace the lines of his face like black silk ribbons on dark marble; they curl around his mouth, drawing you to the subtle glint of his fangs. He doesn't want you to focus too much on his eyes—they may hold you caged in beautiful glittering amber, but they're hard, too hard for the velvet he's carefully wrapped his voice in.

Vaekora is the single drop of blood lazily snaking its way through ice water in a crystal glass. He's the post-chase languor of a prey animal just before it gives in to death, but he's also the flash of teeth in the mouth of its predator. He is pride, and ecstasy, and a comforting lie whispered in the dark. He's black-tipped fingers capped with claws. He's the alluring warmth of drug smoke twisting into your chest. He's fine jewelry arranged artfully against the body of some forbidden lover.

i'm lov him

[reiderwriter]

hi!!! omg i’ve been following you for a bit now and i saw that it’s not only your 1k celebration(AHHHHHH OMG CONGRATS GIRL!!!) but also your birthday soon!!! So happy birthday and i hope you’re having a fantabulous day!!

If it’s not too much trouble, could i request #4 on your 1k celeb list for Spencer Reid? maybe like imagine they’re undercover in a club or at a party and reader has to dance on him for some odd reason and boy is already mad in love and now he’s got a hard on while his crush dances on him for a case and reader maybe takes mercy on him and drags him to a private place tooooooo😋😋

it’s totally okay if this isn’t to your fancy so don’t feel pressured at all!! i love your writing so much and i just know anything you write, even if you don’t write this ask or if you change it up, will be amazing!!! enjoy your birthday b and take loads of a care of yourself!💕💕

A/N: Thank you for the request, and I AM SO SORRY it took me nearly four months to get to 😭 I actually loved writing this one, so I hope you enjoy reading it! Thank you for the birthday wishes 💖

Warnings: public sex, sex in an alleyway, talks of oral (m receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, dirty talk, creampie, coworkers to lovers, spoilers for upto season 7 of Criminal Minds.

“Cover? Right now? I'm wading through three caseloads of paperwork right now, I don't have time to go gallivanting across the country for another unit.” You stressed to your Unit Chief as she smiled sympathetically at you.

“Temporary reassignment means your desk will be cleared of work when you return, I'll personally complete it myself. That is if you decide to come back.”

“It would take one hell of an offer to get me to join another team, ma'am, and you know it.” 

Working under your boss Andi Swann at the Domestic Trafficking Task Force was something you took a lot of pride in. The work you did saved hundreds of women across the country, and you found justice for the ones you were too late for. It had been your second choice after you'd left the academy and a particularly ambitious one, all things considered. 

“Y/N, the Behavioural Analysis Unit needs you. Now, I remember your resume as well as you do, most likely, so don't try to convince me all of the profiling credits and courses you took at the academy were solely to be used for trafficking work.” 

You flushed as the woman caught you off guard. It was true that you hoped to someday be able to transfer to the aforementioned unit, but you truly still respected the woman in front of you. 

Deciding that your respect trumped your human need to placate her worries about you suddenly skipping out on her, you simply cleared your throat and spoke as calmly as possible. 

“What is it exactly that the BAU needs me for?” 

The older woman smiled back at you and shook her head slightly before opening her mouth again. 

“It seems that one of their team members needs a date.” 

–X– 

Having recovered from the shock of your reassignment and its details, you'd found yourself packing a few things from your desk, grabbing your go-bag, climbing into the elevator and arriving at the doors of the BAU.

You then struggled for a few minutes to open with all the things crowding your hands. 

“Here let me,” a voice said from behind you, as you suddenly saw an arm come up around your side to push the door open. You followed your gaze up the arm until your back was against the door, moving backwards even as he pushed it open as your throat went dry.

The man in front of you was hot. It was as if some deity had plucked your ideal type out of your mind, moulded him with clay, and kiln fired him before placing him right back in front of you as temptation.

You were sure that minutes had passed since he'd spoken with you just staring up at him like this, but alas, you really couldn't help yourself. 

“Oh! Thank you,” you smiled, hoping it would diffuse the sudden awkward atmosphere that your staring had bought on. “I'm sorry, can you tell me where Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner's office is?” You mumbled out, trying to clear your throat silently as you lost yourself in the strangers' gaze. 

His eyes were locked on yours, and as he broke eye contact, your heart jumped as you noticed his ears were stained red, embarrassment apparently not lost on him. 

“Up the stairs, first office, his name is on the door. You must be SSA Y/N.” Shocked to hear your name drop from his mouth  you felt a Rusholme mortification as you studied the man once again. 

Slightly messy hair, pile of books in his hand, dressed like he'd fallen into a closet at a retirement home, tall wiry frame. 

Ashley Seaver's description of Doctor Spencer Reid had been spot on. Apart from the part where she had failed to mention, he was quite possibly the most attractive man on earth. 

“Doctor Reid?” You asked, voice a squeak, almost scared that you were wrong despite there being no suggestion that you might be.

“How did you…?” His eyes widened with a smile as he looked back to you again, searching for answers with his head cocked slightly to the side.

“I work in Domestic Trafficking. Agent Seaver and my unit chief both gave me brief descriptions of your team so I wouldn't get bogged down with introductions when I got here.” You explained quickly for fear that he'd think you slightly stalkerish for knowing his name, even though he obviously knew yours as well.

He smiled slightly awkwardly again  and gestured further inside the office, sending you off to your temporary new Unit Chief's office with a small whisper.

“I look forward to working with you.”

--X–

The debrief with Aaron Hotchner was swift  and you appreciated the man's ability to cut straight to the point. 

There was a killer targeting women in New York City, just like there were killers targeting women everywhere. But this one had taken specific issue with women who were social climbers, who attended events with high profile and successful men on their arms. 

So far, the NYPD could link 7 homicides to the killer and were under pressure to catch the guy before Lucky Number eight. 

The FBI had stepped in and suggested you be Lucky Number eight.

They'd been sent the case as a consult and provided the profile, to which the NYPD had asked for full cooperation. 

Which is how you found yourself on a jet heading to New York City two hours after Andi Swann had called you into her office. Productive day.

“What does your budget look like after a year of private jet travel?” You wondered out loud as you followed Hotchner onto the plane. SSA David had followed you onto the plane as well, having tried to introduce himself earlier. You'd allowed him the moment of humility before telling him you knew exactly who he was, and he'd be surprised if anyone in the entire bureau didn't. 

“Well they haven't put me on display yet, so I don't think I'm quite a fossil. Pleasure to be working with you.” 

His words were kind enough, but they were a reminder of the other man you'd met earlier. 

The man who had since climbed into the seat next to you, ready for the on the go case briefing.

“We've established identities for the two of you, ready for you to go in tonight to establish yourselves as bait,” Hotch explained, handing you each a personnel folder. 

“Spencer, you'll be Charles Buchanan, local businessman with alleged ties to several socialite families in the Upper East Side.” That seemed to earn a few chuckles from Agent Morgan from his perch at the other end of the plane desk, but he cleverly kept his mouth shut. 

“Y/N, you'll be Daisy Smith, you're a student putting herself through a graduate degree, who has turned to sugaring to cover course fees.” 

“Sugaring?” Rossi asked from Hotch's side, waiting for someone to clarify. 

“It's a term used to describe the act of being a sugar baby or sugar daddy. A usually non-sexual consensual relationship involving cash or other materialistic gifts.” Spencer filled in the gaps easily, without looking up from the file he was scanning ridiculously fast.

Okay, speed-reading and super intelligence check, and you were two for two on descriptions of Spencer Reid. Swann's description had also left a lot to be desired. 

“We've got Garcia establishing some online profiles for the both of you currently using the images you sent us earlier. Hopefully, we were correct in our estimation of his hunting grounds, but he'll need to stalk you for a night or two before he strikes.” 

You cleared your throat carefully as you finally decided to ask the question that had been bugging you the entire time.

“I'm sorry if this is forward, but is there a reason I was chosen for this assignment? I don't have much undercover experience, and I was told there were two women on your team. Was I misinformed?” 

“That's correct. Unfortunately, last week, Agent Prentiss decided to take a job with Interpol in London. Agent Jareau was also recently married, so she put in leave to enjoy her honeymoon. None of the candidates we have lined up fit our Unsub's type. You do.”

“As good as I would look in a dress, you're going to be much more effective at catching this guy,” Morgan joked from the side, just as Hotch accepted a video call through to the jet. 

“Morgan in a dress, sounds like one of my dreams come true.” 

“Calm it, baby girl, what have you got for us?”

“Invitations to a charity ball being held in Manhattan tonight, and around 1000 hits across five sugaring platforms for Miss Y/N. If the FBI turns out to be a letdown, you have a lot of serious offers here, sweetie.” You laughed out loud at how she blasted through and diffused all the tension in your team, without even thinking to introduce herself first. 

“You must be Penelope Garcia. It's nice to meet you.” 

“Not as nice as it is to meet you, I promise.” 

The remainder of the jet ride had been quiet if not restful, the presence of Spencer Reid a disturbingly pretty thorn in your side. 

You'd sneaked glances at him multiple times, not an easy feat on a jet filled with profilers. His fingers had grazed yours as he passed you his file earlier as well, letting you read up on his new character. 

What you found most distracting, though, was the now bare stretch of skin peaking out from his shirt collar. 

He'd decided to take a nap at some point earlier, and now you silently cursed him for it as you looked at the splash of skin distractedly. 

You could press your lips there and work your way up to his lips. Or you could go in the opposite direction and have more fun, you reminded yourself. 

It seemed that image had you waking up, jerking upright so that you would not let that go any further.

This was your job. You were a professional, an FBI agent. 

You weren't allowed to imagine giving this man a blow job on government time. You'd have to save that thought for after the case was closed, and you could go your separate ways, you thought.

Landing was easy  and you moved straight into dress fittings and practising your story for the party later that night. 

Which meant a blissful few hours without the distraction of Spencer Reid. 

Luckily for you, the first dress they'd given you to wear had turned out to be a good fit, showcasing some of your more prominent assets. 

It hugged your body tight, but it wasn't uncomfortable, showing off a generous amount of cleavage and leg as well. It wasn't quite scandalous, but you knew it was definitely the kind of outfit that would stick out like a sore thumb at a socialite dinner. 

Which meant it was perfect for baiting the unsub.

By 7pm, you'd been outfitted, prepped, and deposited in the back of a limousine with Spencer Reid, and you were right back at square one trying not to climb him then and there. 

His outfit choice had been slightly harder, apparently, given his taller frame, but the three piece suit they'd given him was do perfect it was hard to tell it wasn't tailored to his measurements. 

“Are you nervous?” He asked, whispering the words in your ear as he stroked your hand. Although the limousine driver was an undercover NYPD detective, you'd both been told to get into character as quickly as possible. 

There were a series of other undercover agents being placed throughout the party tonight - Hotch was going in as a representative of the District Attorney's office, a few NYPD detectives were serving guests drinks and food, and Rossi had managed to get an invite as himself. 

Morgan was left running surveillance in the van outside. 

Because of your outfit and the nature of the unsubs attacks, there had been no point in trying to put a wire on you at this point in time. It'd take him a week of surveillance to pick you up anyway. Tonight would just be the start of his hunt. 

So you let Spencer stroke your hand, fingers locked in his as you gave him a smile, and tried not to imagine them wrapped around his cock. 

“Just a little. I think it's the dress  shows off a bit more than I'm used to.” He took a second to glance down your body, as if he'd been waiting for your permission until now, and you watched his eyes pause over your chest and at where the hem sat at the top of your thighs, dangerously close to bearing everything.

“You look… beautiful. I think our unsub will like it, at least.” 

You tried to hide your disappointment as he pulled his hand away, ready to open the door as the car pulled up to your destination. 

You surveyed the room as you walked in, trying to memorise every particularly leering smile from men as you made your way to your seat. 

After half an hour, though, it seemed like catching your guy was going to be like finding a needle in a haystack. Or a creep in a room full of creeps. 

It seemed like every man who talked to Spencer only glanced at you to stare down your dress, a few even attempting to pat your back and let their hands drift south.

If it weren't for the sake of the job, you'd have sucker punched some of the richest men in New York City by now. And you'd have enjoyed it. 

Politely detaching himself from conversation, Spencer guided you away to the dance floor for a second. You'd planned it this way for when you needed some time privately to discuss potential suspects. 

A few other couples glided around the floor as you stood chest to chest with Spencer, surprised how confidently he was handling the caseload. 

His hands took their places, one on your hip, the other gripping your own as you both began to sway side to side. 

“Any ideas?” He whispered in your ear as you moved delicately. 

“Your 10 o’clock. Younger son of the Johnson family. He’s been sat glaring at me for 10 minutes despite his mother's attempts to network for him.” 

“It fits the profile, absent father, overbearing mother. He has obvious disdain for you. Is there anyone else?” His words were hot against your skin as you looked up at him, finding your lips surprisingly close as your bodies continued swaying together. 

“Half of the men in this room have undressed me with their eyes, the other half actually tried to put their hands on me when they were talking to you.” He stiffened at that, breaking eye contact as his eyes flashed with sudden emotion. 

His hand slid from your waist further down to stroke your ass slightly as he watched the crowd to see anyone taking offence at his sudden bold display of affection. 

At least that was what you assumed he was doing  as you too began to glance around, watching for anyone watching you, confident that Hotch, Rossi, and the others would do the same. 

When his hand on your ass pulled you closer into him, though, you weren't so sure. 

“Spencer, what are you-” You started in confusion, noticing that his gaze had returned to you. More specifically, that it had returned to your chest, as he stared down at how your breasts looked, pushed up against his chest as they were. 

He encouraged your other hand to wrap around his shoulder, freeing his other hand to land on your ass again as he pulled you closer still. 

You'd almost stopped moving, certain that having his body pressed against yours in every place hardly counted as dancing. You opened your mouth to say as much when you felt something twitch against your thigh. A low groan slipped from Spencer's lips as he adjusted your positions slightly as you felt something hard shift against your leg. 

“Do you seriously have a boner right now?” You whispered, as much in exasperation as in excitement. 

Spencer Reid was grinding his boner into you in front of a room full of people, and you felt like you'd just won the lottery. 

“I'm sorry, natural reaction. You look so hot tonight, and then your hands were all over me.” He rambled slightly in his explanations, mortification clear on his face as he tried to apologise. 

“It's okay.” You whispered in his ear, pulling yourself up on your toes softly to press a chaste kiss to his lips. 

If you just so happened to rub up against him going up and down, eliciting another deep groan for the man, then so be it. 

“Y/N…” He whispered you name like a prayer and it almost convinced you that there was no one else in the room. 

“Spencer, there's no way our unsub is going to approach us if you have that thing tenting your pants.” You kept your voice low as your hands trailed down his chest. Pushing one further, you gently rubbed over his clothed member as if accentuating your point. 

“We need to solve this problem, don't you think?” 

His jaw clenched as he contemplated your words, trying not to let any other sounds out. His nod was barely perceptible, but within seconds you were glancing around the room for a quick exit, and in another minute, you'd slipped through a service entrance  and out through some corridors into a dimly lit alleyway. 

As soon as you were cloaked in darkness, Spencer was on you. 

Whirling you around, he backed you into the wall until your back was pressed into it, and his lips were on yours. 

You moaned helplessly into the kiss, hands finding his chest again and moving south even as he began exploring your body. 

“This is an important case, and we're about to blow it because I can't keep my hands off you,” he whispered between kisses, lips trailing down your neck. 

“Do you know how crazy we both must be?” 

“I know exactly how crazy for you I am, Reid. Now, please let me suck your dick.” You moaned the words as his fingers found their way into your panties, stroking your clit. 

“Y/N, I'm trying to talk sense into us here.” He groaned as your fingers fumbled with his pant buttons, hand sliding into the material to wrap around his cock.

“How much sense are you talking with your fingers inside me?” You panted, willing him to just fully let go and let you both enjoy yourselves. 

“While we're out here, Hotch and Rossi are inside, noting down anyone who takes particular offence to our exit. We can enjoy ourselves and catch a better lead.” You started slowly pumping him then, as he pushed closer into you, allowing you to reach more of him at this different angle.

His head dropped to your shoulder as he breathed out a laugh. 

“Right, this will help.” He tried to convince yourself, and you grinned in victory, rocking your hips against his hand to find your release sooner. 

Until he withdrew his hand and used it to grasp your own, halting your movements. 

“Spencer?” You pouted slightly, but he pressed another kiss to your lips  this time forceful and demanding, to guess begging permission to enter and dominate you. 

You gladly accepted him into your mouth, even as you felt him pushing up your skirt, letting the material ride higher as it had been trying to do all night. 

Making sure you were steady against the brick wall, he pulled your hips up and around his, pushing your panties to the side as he pushed inside of you. 

The stretch was maddening. Everywhere he touched became hot against the cool night breeze as he began his frenzied strokes into you. 

You lost all capability for speech, which was probably for the best, as you were sure you'd only ask for him to do more disgusting things to you eventually. 

His mouth slid to the top of your breasts as they bounced with each thrust, waiting to claim a nipple in his mouth when one eventually came free of the offending material. 

“Such a little slut, begging to suck my dick. Maybe next time, princess.” You screamed and arched your back as he finally bit down around your nipple, soothing the skin with his tongue as he licked and suckled there. 

His other hand fell to your clit again, pushing you to the edge as you finally came on his cock. 

He didn't stop though, powering through as you tightened around him, moaning wantonly as his thrusts hit deeper still.

“Let's see what our unsub thinks when he sees my cum dripping out of you,” he whispered again, as he too let himself go, releasing spurt after spurt of cum inside of you. 

Making sure you were strong enough, he set you back down on the ground, keeping an arm wrapped around you protectively as you smoothed your clothes back into place. 

You helped him button his pants as he smoothed your hair, tucking a stray piece behind your ear before ducking in for one more sweet kiss. 

“I'm sorry that I couldn't let you, uh, perform orally,” he blushed again, his ears that same shade of red you noticed earlier as he guided you back inside. “I think someone would have noticed if I'd ruined your makeup that much.”

You practically choked on your own spit as you finally slipped back into the dance hall.

“Next time,” you said, making sure to finish the conversation you'd started. “We’ll have more privacy.” 

[oddinary4bts]

When the End Comes | ch 2 (jjk)

☆summary: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook?

☆pairing: photographer!Jungkook x lawyer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in every chapter)

☆genre: breakup!au, slice of life!au, angst with a big A, smut

☆warnings: moving, curses, alochol, explicit content: female and male masturbation, pain kink (Jungkook), mentions of blowjob and penetrative sex

☆word count: 8.7k

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: I don't even know what to say about this chapter, just that I FEEL their pain so much :'( justice for my babies

☆a/n pt2: Thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing this, you are the best <3

☆Read The Forgotten Spaces here, the prequel to When the End Comes! It does not need to be read to understand When the End Comes, but I think it still should be read first to have a better understanding of the characters in general!

☆Add yourself to the taglist here (if you were on the taglist for The Forgotten Spaces, you're already on the taglist for When the End Comes!)

☆☆☆☆☆

But love never leaves a heart, where it found it, found it You found it Someday, I'll fall into you That's where I'll be now when the end comes

When the End Comes, Andrew Belle

☆☆☆☆☆

Thursday, July 6th

                Days and weeks have passed. Apparently, even months have. Jungkook hasn’t really noticed – he’s been stuck in a daze, stuck replaying your breakup over and over again. Wishing he’d begged you to stay, though he could tell that nothing would have been fruitful.

You had made your decision already.

He hasn’t done anything since you left. Hasn’t left your apartment except for looking for a new one, when Yoongi forced him to go. Because alone, he can’t afford the one you had together. And it’s too filled with memories anyway.

All the pictures on the shelves by the window, turned towards the wall the night you left. The echo of your laugh, in every room he steps in. The ghost of you, just a silhouette he can’t ever reach when it’s dark and his mind is playing tricks on him.

The night you left, he thought it was a joke. A sick, twisted prank, and he believed you’d come back. When hours passed and dawn approached, he got up from the spot where he was sitting in, near the door, and turned the pictures towards the wall before heading to bed.

He hadn’t been able to sleep in the bed, and he’d slept with Bam directly on the floor.

A few nights later he’d made an actual bed with blankets on the floor, and he’s been sleeping there since then. But not tonight – tonight he’ll try sleeping in bed, in his new apartment.

A space that shouldn’t remind him of you too much.

He’s packed almost everything before today. He had nothing else to do, and it served to keep his mind busy during the long hours of the day. At night he usually has nothing to keep his mind from going to you, and he thinks he’s stuck in the moment when you left.

It’s a looped film in his mind, a horror movie that will forever haunt him.

The boys are helping. They brought most of the boxes he’s packed to his new place already, a small studio in the same building as Yoongi and Kiko. It’s on the other side of town, far from where he built a life with you, and he really hopes your ghost won’t follow.

Though he doubts he’ll ever escape it.

Everyone is currently doing a trip to the other apartment, except Jungkook and Yoongi. Mostly because Jungkook has been standing in the empty living room, save for the pictures on the shelves.

You left with the couch and the dinner table, telling him to keep the TV even though you were the one to buy it years ago. And that day you came to pick up your stuff…

Another haunting moment to add to the long list that’s been tormenting him since you broke up.

He shuts his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose, jaw clenching as the familiar ache takes over his heart. He doesn’t want to cry today – at least not before he’s alone in his new place. Because he hates how his friends are concerned, hates that he can’t just stay home alone.

None of them understand the sorrow that’s been plaguing him – hell, all of them except Jimin are happily dating. A dirty, ugly part of him hates them for it, and he’s been trying to distance himself.

“You good?” Yoongi asks, startling him.

Jungkook’s hand falls to his side, and he forces his eyes open. Yoongi is next to him, an eyebrow cocked in question. “Yeah.”

“Do you want me to put these in a box?” Yoongi enquires, and Jungkook clenches his fist as Yoongi’s pointing to the pictures.

“I can take care of it.”

It takes him a few seconds before he does get in motion, and he heads to the shelves. There’s already a box waiting for the frames, one Taehyung put there earlier before Jungkook told him not to touch anything.

“Do you want help?” Yoongi asks carefully.

Jungkook steels himself as he grabs the first picture. He already knows which it is, from its placement on the shelf. It’s one of his exhibit’s pictures. The one he titled ‘Where I found hope again’. It’s the sunset from the living room of the apartment he’d found for you.

Seeing it hurts, but he barely pays attention to it, carefully putting it in the box before grabbing the next one. There you are, cheeks red and smile bright in the snow of December, and he feels like dying as he remembers the name of that one.

‘Where I learned to love again’. It feels like it’s laughing at him right now, like life is having a good laugh at his expense. He wants to throw it away, to burn and watch your beautiful form crumbling into ashes.

Instead, he puts it away, before moving to the next one. He thinks he goes blind – he doesn’t see the next pictures. Doesn’t focus on any of them, and lets the ache take over his action, over his heart. When he’s done, he realizes that the apartment is once again filled with voices – none of them being the right one, and he wishes to be alone.

Wishes to be allowed to crumble, to let himself be carried by the wind.

The rest of the day is a blur. He barely remembers getting to his new place, riding shotgun next to Jimin while Taehyung and Namjoon talked about something on the backseat. Jimin was silent, respecting Jungkook’s need to not speak, and maybe it’s for that reason that Jungkook says yes when Jimin asks if he wants some company when the others finally start filing out at the end of the day.

They all hug him tight, tell him that they love him and hope he’ll like his new place. With everything placed, Jungkook knows that he’ll always hate it, because it lacks the only thing that he truly wants – you.

And he’ll never have that again.

“Want to order something?” Jimin asks.

Jungkook is sitting on a kitchen chair, watching the condensation on his glass of water when Jimin speaks. He raises his head – his friend is scrolling on his phone, and he shoots Jungkook a look as he remains silent.

“Sure,” Jungkook finally answers. “Did you have anything in mind?”

Jimin nods. “There’s this great dumpling place nearby, and they deliver.”

“Oh.”

If Jimin notices Jungkook’s lack of enthusiasm, he doesn’t mention. Because Jimin is a good friend – he’s been one of Jungkook’s closest friends for years for a reason after all.

“Pork and green onion works for you?” Jimin asks.

“Sure.”

“I’ll get the marinated cucumbers too.” Jimin pouts at his phone as he focuses, and then his gaze darts once to Jungkook. “Anything else you want? They got bobas too.”

Just thinking about drinking boba makes Jungkook feel nauseated, so he shakes his head no. Jimin purses his lips, nods curtly and then says the food is on its way.

His statement is followed by silence, until the front door opens as Yoongi returns with Bam, as promised. Kiko was taking care of him all day, since she and Yoongi live in the same building. Yoongi promises that Bam was a good boy, and then he leaves again, nodding his head at Jimin.

As if to say ‘thank you for being here’. Jungkook hates the gesture, hates that he let Jimin stay, but he figures he can always just ask him to leave when they’re done with the food.

He had to eat anyway, right?

Needless to say, his appetite has been off, since the day you left. He’s been working out more though, something to keep his mind busy, but he’s been unable to eat like before. Jimin forces him to eat half the dumplings though, and Jungkook reckons that even after everything, dumplings still slap.

Not a lot of things in life still slap without you around.

One thing that does suck is, Jimin tries to make conversation through dinner. He asks Jungkook if he has any project coming up, if he ever plans on returning to Europe. The answer is easy, and Jungkook gives it without an ounce of hesitation.

“No.”

Jimin cocks an eyebrow, as if surprised by his answer. “Why?”

Jungkook grits his teeth, but offers no answers. He thinks it’s obvious – he’s been hating the European continent ever since the night you left because he can’t bring himself to hate you instead. So he directed it to the place that took you from him, and so far it’s been keeping him going.

“You know…” Jimin carefully says. “We’ve all been avoiding talking about it. But how are you even doing, bro? Every time I see you it’s just…”

Worse. He’s convinced that’s what Jimin was going to say, and he doesn’t blame him. It’s worse every time because he has been getting worse. As if adding another mark on the calendar equals to adding another on his heart, and the wounds haven’t had time to heal.

He doesn’t think there’s enough time in a lifetime to heal from losing you.

“I’m okay,” Jungkook lies easily.

Bam offers him salvation, barking by the door. As he rarely does, Jungkook gets up, a frown moving on his features. Jimin lets him go, even as Jungkook mumbles he’ll take the dog outside. His friend remains silent, and Jungkook is able to slip into the evening without Jimin pressing him about the lie.

As Jungkook had assumed, Bam just needed to pee, and probably barked because of the unfamiliar environment. Jungkook debates taking him on a walk, hoping Jimin would be gone by the time he comes back, but it feels too cowardly, even for him.

So he takes Bam in right away – the walk would have been hell anyway.

Jimin hasn’t moved while he was gone, and Jungkook tries to avoid the conversation by cleaning the table, putting away the empty dumpling container in the recycling bin after he’s rinsed it thoroughly. He feels Jimin’s gaze boring into the back of his head, but he does his best to ignore it.

“You shouldn’t drop your job in Europe,” Jimin suddenly says.

Jungkook whips around from his spot by the counter under which the recycling bin is. “What?”

“Isn’t it…” Jimin winces, shaking his head slightly. “Listen, this will be tough love, but isn’t it losing everything if you just… drop it too?”

Jungkook sees red. “Get the fuck out.”

“Bro.”

“Get the fuck out,” he repeats, putting emphasis on each word.

“We’re just worried about you,” Jimin says carefully, still not moving from where he’s sitting.

Jungkook has half a thought that he could carry his friend out if he wanted to, but surprisingly enough his heart breaks in his chest, tears blinding his vision.

“I just can’t go, okay?” he chokes out, and his nails dig in the palm of his hands as he clenches his fists hard. “I just can’t.”

Jimin watches him carefully, before sighing deeply. “Okay. It’s okay. There’s plenty of stuff you can do here too.”

Jungkook gulps, blinking the tears away until Jimin is clear in front of him again. “Can I…”

He stops, because he knows he shouldn’t ask. Knows he shouldn’t care, yet he can’t help himself. Jimin doesn’t press, waits for him to be able to speak. It takes longer than Jungkook thought possible, and he has to shut his eyes and lean against the counter before he finds words again.

“Can I ask how she has been doing?” he voices, words falling softly, almost soundlessly, in the space between them.

“Jungkook…”

“Just,” Jungkook lets out, eyes shooting open. “Please tell me she’s okay.”

Jimin’s silence is telling enough – you must be going through it too. It fills Jungkook with bitterness, with something vile and disgusting that tastes like bile on his tongue. Because you don’t get to be suffering, you don’t get to have made this decision and suffer from it.

Why the fuck did you make that decision then?

“You know,” Jimin starts carefully. “You guys were together for a long time.”

“Why?” Jungkook asks. “Why did she do this?”

And then the tears are moving freely, and Jimin quickly gets up to hug him. Jungkook rests his forehead against his friend’s shoulder as he breaks in the embrace, like he’s been doing for weeks now.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jimin promises when the tears recede and Jungkook stops trembling, as if his body, too, is too tired to keep on breaking.

Strangely, he gets the feeling there’s nothing left to break anyway.

“How?”

Jimin remains silent for a while, as if searching for the exact right words to say. Jungkook doubts they exist – how can someone repair a broken heart such as his?

“Life finds a way,” Jimin eventually chooses to say. He pulls away from the hug, though he still holds onto Jungkook’s shoulders. “Life always finds a way.”

Saturday, July 15th

                You’re tired. Have been tired. Think you’ll forever be tired. A relentless exhaustion has settled over you like a mantle of snow settles on the land during the months of winter. With it comes an unshakable cold, and even though it’s summer you’ve been cradling your hoodie to your frame, draping yourself with it as if it’ll chase the cold away.

The cold is never going to leave. You think your heart turned to ice in your chest, and it pumps freezing blood into your veins. You’ve been trying to warm up, but heat is a mirage to you, an illusion you can’t reach.

Heather and Bridget are hosting a dinner at their apartment today. You’d wanted to avoid it, but considering they offered you a room for a few weeks before you found a new apartment, you couldn’t say no. Yet you dread the moment you’ll be faced with the other girls, some of them your friends because they are dating… his friends.

You’ve been trying not to think about him too much. It’s hard – he’s lurking at the back of your mind, a reminder of your failures. Of the places where you went wrong, the mistakes you committed. Not that the breakup was a mistake – you think you made the right decision, or at least you’ve been trying to convince yourself that you have.

But you didn’t lie to him – you love him. Still do, though now it’s more like grief. Though, what is grief if not the next step in the eternal timeline of love?

You worry at your lips, bury your hands in the pocket of the hoodie. You fumble with your keys as you wait in front of the door, as you try to knock but find you’re unable to. Because it means talking to them, it means pretending that you have been able to eat or sleep for weeks.

You reckon Heather and Bridget know, to a certain extent. Saw you wither like a flower when autumn comes, though you think now you’re settled in deep winter.

You think it’ll pass. You doubt a pain like this can last – no soul can withstand it forever. But that would be admitting that he was your soulmate, and you aren’t stupid.

Soulmates don’t exist. Because if he was, why then was the distance enough to break you up?

You sigh, eyes falling to the ground in front of your feet. You take a steadying breath – it does nothing to help.

You’re a coward. You’ve become a coward, and you think it might be because you put all of your courage in that night weeks ago. It broke you, broke the steel you used to be able to drape yourself with.

Now you’re stuck in the never-ending winter, withered and lifeless.

“Y/n!” Jo says, and you startle.

You turn your head to the side to see Jo as she’s walking around the corner, and she smiles at you as she makes her way towards you.

“Hey,” you reply as your throat goes dry.

If he has a best friend, or at least a female one, you think it’d be her. They’ve been friends since before you reconnected with him, since before you even knew her. Seeing her feels like it’s wrong, but then again everything has been feeling wrong lately.

“Did you already ring?” Jo asks as she stops next to you.

You purse your lips, shaking your head no. “Huh,” you let out. “I was about to.”

Jo nods, and you think she immediately senses your unease. She’s a good person though, and an even better friend. She doesn’t say anything, and she rings the door for you.

You don’t know what to tell her. All that you can think of is, if someone has news about him, it would be her. She’s the only one you believe there’s a chance he’s been honest to.

Before you can say anything, the door opens and Bridget ushers you inside. You realize that you’re the last ones to get there – you usually never are. Usually always make sure to be the first, only so that you can help the hosts.

It seems losing him changed that.

You greet everyone half-heartedly, quickly moving towards Jiho. Jiho hugs you, tells you she’s happy you came. You can’t return the sentiment, so you offer her a tight-lipped smile as Heather announces that dinner is ready.

Their chatter is lively. You feel like you’re watching the scene through a frosted window. Like you’re stuck in a blizzard, watching people reveling in the warmth of the other side, wishing somehow that they’d share it with you. And it’s not that they don’t try; multiple times throughout dinner the other girls try to talk to you.

You reply, you always do, but there is just so little to say, so little words your brain can conjure up. It’s like your thoughts are slower – you’ve been that way at work too. You’re lucky, you haven’t been working on anything big in the last few weeks. But next week you will be, and you don’t even know if you’ll be able to do it.

At least Harrison is on the case with you. As one of the most talented junior partners of the firm, you think he’ll be able to manage the case even with you at his side.

You eat what you can, though you’ve run out of appetite before you even broke up. You force yourself, mostly because you don’t like how Kiko’s looking at you. How you notice her leaning to speak in Jo’s ear more than once during the meal.

You’re aware that they’re speaking of you – do they hate you as much as you hate yourself?

You doubt they can.

When dinner is over, you offer to clean the dishes. Jo ends up on washing duty with you, and you work in silence, water sloshing around as you rub the plates clean while she dries.

You’re cleaning a wine glass when she says, “How have you been?”

The question is a simple one. The truth isn’t so, and you wonder if you should lie. You think it’d be a mistake. Jo’s perceptive, she’d see right through the lie.

“I’ve been better,” you answer, shrugging your shoulders as if it doesn’t matter.

That much is a lie, because everything about him mattered.

“I can understand.”

Heavy silence follows, and you pass the glass to her. You hope she won’t speak more, hope she’ll offer you kindness and let you dwell on your mistakes, but you know it’s unlike her.

Indeed, she speaks up after a minute. “You know…” She pauses, and you glance once at her to find her features troubled. “I was wondering… what brought you to this decision?”

You freeze, hands in the water. It’s hot enough that your skin is turning scarlet, yet you barely even feel it. “What?”

“If you don’t want to speak about it it’s fine,” she gently says. “But I’m just concerned about you.”

“Did he ask you to ask me this?” you enquire, accusingly. You frown at the tone of your voice, and apologize as you resume washing the glass you’re holding.

“No,” she answers. “He hasn’t really been talking to anyone.”

You shudder, with horror and compulsion at the person that you were weeks ago, the one that caused him to isolate himself.

“Oh.”

Jo waits a moment, but when it’s clear that you aren’t going to speak again, she says, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t prod.”

You wet your lips, swallow around the lump in your throat. “It’s okay.”

Perhaps that’s also a lie. Perhaps you believe nothing is okay, nothing will be okay again. But you don’t voice it – it’s all your fault anyway.

“It’s okay if it isn’t okay, you know,” Jo gently says as you hand her a glass.

Your vision blurs, but no tears fall. No tears are left – you cry them to sleep every night already.

“Long distance is a bitch,” is what you eventually say. “You think you can make it through everything, and then long distance happens.”

You want to clench your hand around the third glass, want to feel the shards of it cutting through your palm like the shards of him have been stabbing through your heart. You force your grip to remain loose, lest you stain the sink with blood.

“Like for real, without it we would have been fine.”

You’ve told Jiho the same thing. You think you’ve told him the same thing, but you barely even remember the breakup. Just remember holding onto him at the end, and then winter seeping in through the crevices in your soul.

“I’m sorry.” Jo looks at you kindly when you glance her way. She offers you a sad smile that you want to hate, yet it just makes you want to break. “I’m really sorry it came between the two of you.”

You take a deep breath to tame the aching in your chest, nodding once. “It’s whatever.”

“It’s not.”

She’s right, so you remain silent. Choose to seek solace in a wordless moment, one you spend finishing the dishes. And when you’re done, and she’s wiping the last one, you find yourself asking, “How has he been doing?”

She stops moving, meets your gaze before letting her gaze drop to her hands. “As I said, he doesn’t really speak to anyone.”

“Which means he hasn’t been great.”

You know him enough to know that. She does too – she nods, before shrugging her shoulders. “Jimin and Tae have been making sure he’s okay though. Surviving.”

Because sometimes all there is to do is survive.

You’re relieved that his friends are there for him. It lessens the pain somehow, to know he’s not alone. You aren’t either – Jimin is your friend too and, even though she’s a mom of two, Jiho has been there for you ever since the breakup.

The first time Lisa asked you where Jungkook was though… felt like heartbreak uttered in an innocent sentence. Like the universe had gone wrong, like left and right were interchanged. You were lost then, and you still are today.

All at your expense.

“Good,” you answer.

She looks conflicted, pained – you understand why when she asks, “What about you?”

You clench your jaw out of reflex, as if it’s an accusation. As if admitting that you’re going through frozen hell is wrong of you, somehow. You think it is. After all, this is supposed to be better than the distance.

“I’ve got Jimin too, and Jiho,” you reply, voice strained. “Bridget and Heather too. They’ve been helping.”

Jo nods. “Good. Don’t isolate yourself.” There’s a pause, and her features turn pensive. “And you know, you got me too. You have all of us.”

Tears blur your vision, but like your soul they turn to ice before rolling down your cheeks. “Thank you.”

Smile apologetic, she nods again, as if her job here is done. And it must be – Kiko and Bridget walk into the kitchen, and they clearly don’t sense the atmosphere that’s clinging to you. They strike conversation with Jo, happily, and her stance switches to one that’s more relaxed.

You decide to leave them alone, because these three have always been a little closer to each other than you to them, and you return to the other room, where Chaeyeon, Valeria, Jiho and Heather are lounging on the couches. You debate leaving, debate claiming that you have to work early in the morning, but somehow you choose not to.

Is it a sign that you’re moving on? You don’t know.

When you do leave, later that night, at the same time as Jo and Chaeyeon do, you find yourself walking next to Jo as you head to your respective cars. Lance is picking Chaeyeon up, and she waves you two goodbye as you walk away.

You stuff your hands in the long sleeves of your hoodie, as if the air outside is remotely cold. It is not – there’s been a heatwave around for a few days. Luckily enough for you, a freezing heart seems to be a good remedy for the heat, and you still seek the comfort of your hoodie.

“I was wondering,” Jo says as you near where your car is parked. “Are you still planning on coming to the wedding?”

The forsaken wedding. The thing that set everything in motion – the spark that caught fire on years of your relationship.

You purse your lips, shrug your shoulders. “I think so,” you voice. “Yeah. You two are my friends, even if…”

If you’re closer to him. You don’t say as much, but it’s needless. Jo nods, understanding as ever, and she tells you that you don’t have to, if you don’t want to.

You think she’s a fool for believing that you wouldn’t want to go. Because… what’s wrong with wanting to make sure he’s okay with your own two eyes? What’s wrong with needing to see him in another context than this never-ending winter?

That night, you lie awake for hours. Picturing him behind your closed eyelids, only to find emptiness where he should be. The blankets are cold, the fan overhead not needed, yet you can’t bring yourself to turn it off.

Can’t chase the feeling of his absence from your heart.

You seek solace in memories of him, in the thought of his lips on yours. Of the featherlight kisses you used to exchange in the dead of night, when sleep was evading you or him. You must be half asleep – because suddenly you can almost see him here. Can almost hear his voice as he’d call you baby, mouthing the word against your neck before he’d suck on it.

Your heartrate picks up with the memory – they’re flooding in. The smell of his skin, the taste of his lips, the inebriating sweetness of his kisses. You remember the weight of him on you, the press of his knee between your legs.

And then you seek solace with a hand between your thighs, trying to remember how he touched you. How his long fingers always dragged you to a land of pleasure, how he’d managed to keep you there until you were insane with his taste.

You breathe out his name, a soft moan, though it’s almost a plea. A plea for him to appear, for him to never have been gone.

For you to never have pushed him away.

When you come down from the high that finds you in your memories, you lie on your side, holding one of your plushies to your chest. They don’t replace him; they never have.

You end up crying yourself to sleep over the memories, over the July night sky and the dance crew and every night you took for granted, believing that he’d be yours forever.

You cry for your decision, no matter how right it was. Because you know it’ll always feel wrong.

Friday, July 28th

                There’s something about work that’s been setting you on edge. That’s been making you want to pull your hair out of your head – if only that was possible. It’s strange; you’ve been thinking about the breakup less now that you’re neck deep in work.

Now that you spend hours upon hours at work, after the usual closing time.

Luckily enough, you’re almost never alone. Harrison accompanies all of those late evenings as you work through the case, as he tells you what to do and you tell him you don’t need his help. He laughs at that – Harrison has an easy laugh. It makes its way to his lips whenever you speak, and it’s been like a ray of light in the otherwise dark land of your heart.

He’s a good coworker. Someone that’s noticed just how bad you are, but that’s decided to not treat you differently. To let you nurse your heart in peace, while he offers you the normalcy of what work should be.

Today, at lunch break, he suggested going out for dinner and drinks, along with the rest of the team that’s been working on the case. Mostly because you’re finally closing in on something that is clearly going to be good, and he believes it’s important to celebrate. You don’t have it in you to say no, and that’s how you find yourself squeezed between him and Anna, the paralegal that you’ve worked with the most, in the booth of a nice pub near the firm.

You’ve been sharing a nacho plate with Harrison and Ian, another one of the junior partners of the firm, and you’re sipping on a glass of the pitcher of sangria that Anna ordered for you and her. The buzzing of chatter and laughter makes the pub into a lively place, and you reckon you like the atmosphere.

You like the plants that cascade from their pots on shelves in the walls, like the hanging lights that shine brightly onto the tables, like the brick wall that gives the pub a nice industrial vibe. It just feels right, different than your usual.

Or maybe it’s the fact that the crew is different. That you aren’t with people that inevitably remind you of Jungkook, even though they shouldn’t.

Harrison’s English accent catches your attention as he says something to Ian – something about leaving work related conversation to the firm. As you turn your head towards the man at your side, he offers you a glance.

Harrison has clear blue eyes. Pale, like they hold the Caribbean sea in them. His eyes are beautiful, sparkling, and you offer him a smile.

He’s quick to smile back, and then he continues his conversation with Ian, who’s decided to speak about sports instead.  You decide to join in, even though you know practically nothing about sports, and the two men tease you for it.

There’s no bite to it, yet it feels familiar. Reminds you of someone that used to tease you all the time, and with the sangria coursing through your veins, you decide to jump on the occasion. To let the past be the past, and live in this moment, for once.

Perhaps it holds some sort of salvation for you.

“It’s not my fault if football is boring!” you insist. “It’s just dudes throwing a ball. Who cares about that?”

Harrison nudges you with his elbow. “Hey come on,” he says. “They don’t only throw a ball, sometimes they kick it too.”

He’s got a teasing smile on his lips, and to your surprise you find yourself rolling your eyes. “And the point system? Stupid.”

“It isn’t!” Harrison says, faking offense. “You wound me.”

You cock an eyebrow as Ian laughs, before turning to speak to Sam next to him as the guy asks him a question.

“Aren’t you British anyway?” you ask him. “Why do you watch football?”

“Because I like dudes that throw balls,” he jokes, before realizing that his sentence sounded wrong as you burst out laughing. “Well, not like that.”

“No, of course not,” you tease back.

“It’s just a fun sport,” he insists. “Used to watch it with my step-dad when I was younger.”

Now, the revelation eases the teasing mood that you’ve been diving into, and you offer him a small smile. “Sounds like fun.”

Because you can get that. You can understand the need to love something because someone you loved introduced you to it – dance was that for you, once upon a time. When your mother had introduced you to it, when you were too young to realize that to her, you dancing was just going to be an accomplishment.

Until it became a curse, as you chose to not pursue ballet the way she wanted you to. But that’s old history – even though you still don’t talk to your mother all that much, the hatred you’ve held for her for years after she’s kicked you out is lesser now. Practically non-existent, and you have your therapist to thank for that.

Years of therapy really did help, eventually.

You realize, tonight, how you haven’t really been living since you broke up. You’ve been a mere ghost, a mere winter wind, but tonight you think the air warms up. It warms up into a tentative spring breeze, and you cling to it.

You say yes when Harrison suggests heading to a club after, a VIP one where he’s a member along with Ian. Say yes to the shots offered to you, and you ignore the texts in the group chat with the girls saying that they want to meet up for lunch tomorrow. You focus on the now, focus on the fact that he’s not all you’re thinking of.

No, his big, doe eyes barely exist in your mind right now, replaced by ocean blue and an English accent. At least that’s what you tell yourself as Harrison says he’s a shit dancer, and you admit you were on a dance crew for years.

He cocks an eyebrow, says you’re full of shit, and that’s how you find yourself pulling him to the dance floor, not caring that his hair is paler than your usual, that his smile rings different.

Harrison is not a good dancer. He’s awkward, clumsy, and he steps on your feet more than once as you dance face to face, swaying to the beat of the club music. The flashing lights feel like a haven, like you don’t have to hide in the darkness left by Jungkook’s disappearance from your life.

You let Harrison put his hands on your waist, let him pull you closer, until he’s resting his forehead on yours. Your eyes shut from the proximity, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath. Somehow, that’s what makes you remember – not the dancing, but the intimacy of the position. It makes you crave another, makes you need to forget, and you’re the one that closes the gap.

You’re the one who kisses him first, and he kisses you back all wrong. There’s something missing – the piercing, perhaps – but you don’t let it deter you. Focus on the swipe of his tongue on your bottom lip, and you sigh as you let him in.

But Jungkook is there, in your mind. When Harrison’s hands tighten on your waist, it’s in Jungkook’s hair that you want to thread your fingers through. When he groans softly in the kiss, as you bite his lower lip, it’s Jungkook’s lips that you want to be sucking on.

And you think it’ll always be Jungkook. He’ll haunt you forever – a reminder of your weakness, when it came to the distance. A reminder that, after everything, you’re the one that ruined it.

You’re the one that put an end to what was supposed to be forever.

It aches, coldly. You think your heart barely knows how to beat anymore. It’s erratic, painful, and when Harrison pulls away from the kiss, his blue eyes finding yours, you think his irises are made of ice.

“Hey,” he says gently.

“Hey,” is all you can think to reply.

If he sees the torment in your eyes, he ignores it. Guides you back to the table, where he leaves you with Ian and the rest claiming that he’ll get a water for you. And he does – he comes back with two bottles of water, and he hands you one as he sits next to you.

You think that’s what undoes you. That’s what breaks you, spills the content of your aching soul right there on the club’s floor. You don’t know who’ll pick up the mess – the one it belongs to is far away from these flashing lights. Far, yet closer than he was when the ending came. Somewhere in the city, you believe, because you don’t think he’s gone back to Europe yet.

Would he answer, if you were to call him? Would he pick up right where you left off, whisper sweet nothings in your ear as if you haven’t destroyed his beating organ?

You hate it. Hate how, weeks later, the torture hasn’t diminished. Hate how you believed it’d be just a few rough days, when it’s been weeks and months and winter hasn’t changed.

So you do what you do best. You escape. Tell the table that you have to go, and make it outside before Harrison catches up to you. He asks if he can walk you home, which makes sense because you live in the same complex anyway. Not the same building, but Harrison lives in the one across the small square-like courtyard between the three condo towers where you’ve found a place to rent after Jungkook.

Up above, stars twinkle in the sky. They seem unaware that, after that cataclysm of a July night, the story came to an end. Like the universe never meant it, when it put you and him together. Or maybe it’s you – maybe you created a new cataclysm. Wrote your own fate, and all that crap.

You’re getting dizzy. Both with alcohol and spinning thoughts, but luckily enough the walk is short. Harrison grants you silence, sensing that you need it, probably. Because he’s gentlemanly. Not that Jungkook wasn’t – it’s just different.

And you shouldn’t be comparing him to Jungkook, but it’s far too easy. Especially as your treacherous little mouth asks him if he wants to share a drink in your apartment, as you tell him that you feel better now that you’ve breathed some air.

He says yes, though he seems unsure. He seems unsure all the way up to your floor, and even more so as you pull him in a kiss when the door closes behind you and him. Especially as you breathe against his lips, “Do you think you can make me forget?”

After everything is done, and you lie awake next to his naked form, both of you staring up at the ceiling in silence, you know the answer to that question.

And it’s quite simple – no. Because no one will ever be able to make you forget the one you were supposed to be with until you turned to stardust. Until all that would have been left of the two of you was etchings on a stone, and memories in the space between this life and the next.

Harrison is kind – he tells you that he senses you shouldn’t have done it, gently. Tells you that the only person that can make you forget is yourself, and time. And when he leaves, he tells you not to worry about anything. That he can be a friend, if you need it, but that he doubts you want anything more.

He’s right, and you cry yourself to sleep holding onto Totoro and Appa, hoping weeks ago you would have listened to Jungkook when he’d said not to break up. Hoping to turn back time, cursing the linearity of it. Remembering the punctuate events of you and him, wondering how the distance was enough to undo your timeline.

The sun winks at you when it rises, mocking you as night ends, with no answer for you. The what-ifs shine as brightly as the rays of the morning, all of them piercing through your darkened heart.

You shiver and hide your face in Totoro, hoping one day you’ll be able to evade winter.

Friday, August 18th

                Jungkook’s first thought when he steps into the restaurant is that it’s too loud. Too bright, with happy couples and smiling families sharing a meal as if life’s never ended, three months and ten days ago. He feels like an imposter – he hasn’t smiled since you left, and hasn’t laughed since before that.

He doesn’t know why he agreed to this, when Taehyung suggested it. Maybe because Taehyung and Jimin can be firmly persuasive, when they decide they’ll do something. Though, this time around, they’re not doing anything.

Anything other than having set this blind date with one of Taehyung’s coworkers.

Jungkook decides to find solace in his thoughts. Away from the bustling crowd of the restaurant, into the cool darkness where he’s been evading since he moved to his new apartment. Somewhere where the pain is lesser, where he doesn’t cry all the time.

That’s where she finds him. A shy smile, rosy cheeks as she voices, “Jungkook?”

He meets her gaze, finds her long lashes as she looks up at him innocently. He’s struck – she’s way out of his league. But so were you, and he’s got a whole story to tell about you now. He looks around as if to make sure the girl was speaking to him, as if she didn’t say his name, before he answers, “I assume you’re Emma.”

Another shy smile, and Emma nods her head. “The one and only.”

Jungkook wets his lips, and when the server comes to bring them to a table, he lets his gaze drop to the ground as he follows behind Emma.

He sits in front of her, feeling odd as she blushes and looks through the menu. Her shyness makes him feel awkward, and he doesn’t know what to say.

With you, he always knew what to say.

He shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath and then lets his eyelids flutter open so that he can look through the menu too. He thinks, he just has to make it through the evening. Doesn’t have to see the girl again, even though her shy smiles are cute.

She is cute, but she’s not you. No one will ever compare to you.

He takes a deep breath once more, tries to push you out of his thoughts. For the first time in weeks, it’s not as hard. Maybe because his awkwardness is winning over, making him all too aware of every glance the girl throws his way.

They order, barely exchanging a word, until the girl throws him a lifeline. She asks about his photography, admits Taehyung told her about it, and Jungkook settles in his comfort space as he tells her about it, as he answers her question.

It’s impersonal, almost professional, but at least it keeps the pain at bay for a while. He even thinks he’s enjoying himself – by the time they’re eating and he’s drank half of his beer, he does feel lighter. Like he can finally breathe, like the hand clutching his heart in his chest has loosened.

Or maybe he’s just been getting too good at burrowing his feelings deep inside of him. Still, he barely smiles, barely laughs. And he knows none of his smiles quite reach his eyes, and he knows the girl must have noticed. She doesn’t say anything though, focuses on telling him what she does for work, and then goes on to tell him about what it was like for her growing up.

He zones out, nods when he figures he has to, tries to smile when there’s a lull in the conversation. He’s clearly not good at that – he’s never really gone on dates before. Except with Laura, before you, but even that barely counted as a date. Perhaps because he already knew Laura, and he’s struck thinking that the girl in front of him is a stranger. A stranger, yes, but she’s kind. So when she suggests sharing a bottle of wine, claiming that it’s her favourite and that she’s wanted to drink it in a long time, Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to say no.

Even though they’re already done with eating. She does order dessert, and he watches her eat as he nurses his glass of wine, taking sips from it once in a while.

He hasn’t drunk in a long time, and the effects start to be felt faster than usual. Or maybe the beer he drank before the wine was strong. Either way, his head starts swimming with alcohol before they’re out of the restaurant, and he relishes in the feeling.

Revels in Emma’s suggestion to take a walk to clear their head, along the small river near the restaurant. The evening air is fresh, though clouds hide the stars from view. It smells of rain – there are leftover puddles from earlier today – but it doesn’t seem like the sky will cry again tonight.

A soft breeze plays in Jungkook’s hair. He hasn’t cut it in a while. It used to be a lot longer, but he’s not used to it anymore, so it feels weird whenever strands of his hair pass in front of his eyes. He tries to push them back but to no avail: the strands stubbornly always fall in front of his eyes again, and he ends up giving up after a moment.

Turns out Emma is a gamer. She suggests playing some games together the next time they hang out, and Jungkook doesn’t have it in himself to tell her that they, as a matter of fact, won’t see each other ever again. Not because she isn’t sweet – she’s just not what he wants. And he doesn’t even want the distraction.

He did that once, and it didn’t serve him good. Even if he managed to have you in the end.

“What’s your favourite game?” Emma asks as she stops next to some railing overlooking the water. She leans against it, forearms resting on it as she looks at the water, eyes following the ripples in the river.

“I don’t game as much anymore,” he admits. He shrugs, tries to ignore the way his lungs burn.

Because he used to game with you next to him, and he doesn’t need reminders of you.

“Mine is Valorant,” she says, and she smiles at him as if she expected that to make him happy.

“Oh,” he lets out. He offers her a tight-lipped smile, and feels bad when her face falls a little. So he quickly adds, “I took you more for a Sims girl.”

She fakes offense. “What? Why?”

There’s a twinkle in her eyes, and he’s struck silent as he watches it. She seems to take that as a cue for something else, because she takes a step closer to him, eyes dropping to his mouth.

He thinks he’s frozen on his spot when she tilts her head back, tiptoes, and presses a featherlike kiss on his lips. Eyes wide opened, he watches her, until he figures he should be kissing her back.

So he does, hesitantly, as lead forms in his stomach, making him think that he’s going to be sick. Because she kisses him all wrong. Tastes all wrong too, and suddenly you’re burning in his mind, bright magma that moves in his veins until pain suffocates his lungs.

He takes a step back, and Emma’s eyes shoot open, as if startled. They stare at each other for a time, and then she gulps.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t care for her apology. Doesn’t care about anything other than the fact that he feels disgusted with himself. And for what? It’s not like he owes you anything anymore. As a matter of fact, he should be enjoying this. Should be enjoying that even though he was his most awkward self, he still was able to get the girl to kiss him.

Instead, he burns and he chokes on his saliva as he tries to swallow. He wonders why his vision is blurry, and he furiously blinks his eyes trying to keep Emma in focus.

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats. “Gosh, I read this all wrong. I…” she pauses, shaking her head slightly, and it seems she’s been wearing a mask all evening, because it crumples into nothingness. “I just got out of a long relationship, Tae said you too and I just… Fuck I just assumed we could comfort each other?” When he remains silent, she continues, “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

She’s rambling, and Jungkook just hears his blood pumping in his ears. When he still doesn’t speak, she apologizes once more, and then tells him that she should go.

He doesn’t try to stop her, doesn’t even look as she walks away, head hung low in what he assumes is shame. All he feels is the deep burning sensation, as it settles under his skin. Like a sunburn – he wants to scratch at it, wants to rip it from his skin, but he can’t.

He can’t because you’re gone, and this ache is all that’s left of you. It’s all that’s left, so he clings to it. Tries to keep it close to his heart, where you belong. Picks at the scab, at the wound, until he’s bleeding all over again, breaking out in the city, where anyone can see that he’s lost you.

He doesn’t know how he makes it home. All that he knows is that he’s in the shower, later, head pressed against the tiles as cold water runs on his back. It mingles with the tears streaking down his cheeks, mixes with the saltiness of heartbreak.

It doesn’t cool the sunburn ache, doesn’t ease the pain in his chest. And you’re everywhere then – in the cracks on the wall, he believes he can see you. Believes he can reach out for you, though what he ends up doing is cranking the temperature of the shower up, until it’s not cold anymore.

Though he reckons he barely can feel it anymore.

So he forces his eyes shut, chases memories of you like a dog chases its tail – round in round, in a circle, because he thinks he’ll always circle back to you anyway. He imagines you, in all your glory. Imagines you’ve never left, imagines you’d still run your hands on his back, still dig your nails in his skin.

He doesn’t even know how his hand finds its way to the base of his dick. Doesn’t even know why he’s horny, why the pain makes him crave you more. Why it makes him touch himself, imagining it’s your touch. And with his eyes squeezed shut, you’re everywhere. The goddess of the land of his mind, and he can almost believe you’re still here.

He grunts, perhaps in pain, and picks up the pace on his dick. He remembers words whispered on your skin, your spit on his dick as you’d swallow around the tip. He remembers your tight walls, clutching him, holding him in as you’d ride him like there was no tomorrow.

He remembers a hot tub and the night that followed, remembers breaking and healing with you. Remembers the darkness of the accident, and the light you’d shine on him. The light is gone now, and only darkness remains. It’s not the same – it’s lonelier, somehow. Because he had everything, and now remains nothing. Just the ghost of what once was, and he wishes he could be taken back to the night on the hotel rooftop, wishes you’d never left.

And when he comes, it’s your name that he moans. Like a blessing, though now you’re a curse. A curse to him, and he wishes the pain would go away, wishes it would stay. Wishes it would bring you back, yet knowing he’d push you away. Because he doesn’t think there is pain as great as what you caused him, and then he curses himself for the thought.

That night, he lies awake in sheets cold as winter, weakened by his broken heart as he chases sleep that never comes.

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

Living with the aftermaths of breakup sucks, doesn't it? What did we think of this chapter? Let me know! All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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[noir-renard]

My second submission for Haunting Heroes' Guess That Artist game. This is my "if DPxDC were BotW while not, in fact, being a zelda game, exactly".

Here are a couple of other outfits:

The Atlanteans aren't exactly the Zora, but they're not not the Zora.

Danny in full Yeti gear with a shield he found in a field and an ice blade from the Yetis.

World building details beneath the cut

Details are in bullet points because I'm still working on various details

Maddie and Jack are Ancient Sheikah tech researchers (more like Jerrin than Purah or Robbie; they aren't Sheikah themselves, but Vlad is)

The shrines are portals/rifts to the Spirit Realm; every region has a few but they went inactive a while back (but recently became active again while still locked)

They became inactive because a demon king is sealed in the Spirit Realm; supposedly, heroes guarding the rifts disappeared to close the portal form the other side, locking themselves in the Spirit Realm with no way back

How to open the portals is a closely guarded secret and no one knows how to do it anymore exactly, but they know it involves ceremonial garments

Danny figures out how to open the one his parents are researching by accident and stumbles into the Spirit Realm

The general plot revolves around going back and forth between the Mortal Realm and the Spirit Realm, finding heroes of yore and the heroes who stepped up to replace them and figuring out how to stop the demon king from returning

Demon King is Pariah, BTW, and the ones trying to revive him are the League of Assassins

Gotham is a city in the Spirit Realm

This is gonna be a demon twins au

The Fentons live close to the Lost Woods/kokiri forest; they found Danny sitting on the shrine just outside the woods because "he was too old to stay with the kokiri anymore". They said "it's free baby" and took him in. He doesn't remember much from that time

Only someone born in the spirit realm can open the rifts. Danny finds out the fun way that he was born there (mid game boss fight ig)

Part of the game play revolves around catching ghosts and returning them to the Spirit Realm...but you can also release them during fights or puzzle solving or adventuring to produce certain effects

Basically, you work with the teen titans/young justice/etc in the Mortal realm and you work with the justice league in the spirit realm, but you also have to catch ghosts, and most importantly of all, collect outfits

Idk what the conclusion is but I'll probably write this someday

This au is inspired by botw, totk, oot, tp, mm, and other Zelda stories, but it's really a LoZ flavored story and not a LoZ crossover, so I'm not sure there's going to be a Zelda or a Link or a Ganon

I'll add more to this someday but I'll call the au Heroes of the Realm au if you want to find the tag later

[siriuslydeadfr]

The thing about Luca is that. And I say this as a writer, I suppose, but also as a queer person, that he exudes a certain feeling of safety, and comfort. Like, to have him play something will mean he's going to give you his everything. No matter the character, you'll see a sincerity that isn't just the product of the script, or the demand of it, but also the mind of the actor.

To know that a person of his calibre is out there playing queer characters so effortlessly, and without a doubt in their mind, without any prejudice blinding his artistic choices and who he is as a person, it's obviously a ray of hope, but it is also, then, a kind of trust, even if it is just parasocial in many ways.

I know if it's Luca playing a certain queer character - regardless of what happens to them in the script, that is if the script is stupid and insincere to the queer perspective in certain ways - I'd still easily trust him to do justice to the queer experience, for how sincerely he plays everything.

The whole every-character-of-his having a underlying homoerotic quality to them is all fun and cool and great and beautiful, but also, it's so fucking refreshing

It's been decades of asking for the correct representation in media, it's been years and years of queerbaiting and, if not that, just general lack of care

I've been accustomed to just wanting some of my favourite characters to be gay. Just thinking and wishing and hoping that someone someday will let them reach the full scope of their personality, let them have the right sort of ending, see first the fabric of their person, and not just the thread of their sexuality, and maybe then write the script. There have been all sorts of emotions, and so to find now a person who is doing just that? It's pure beauty.

For a while now it's been changing, more and more shows and films are becoming inclusive and accepting and understanding of the queer gaze, and it's so beautiful that Luca contributes to it with his whole heart, and has been for a long while.

Many must remember how it used to get with artists and makers always denying or trying to tip toe around the obvious queerbait, or shying away from the conversations that involved that queer perspective, or outright rejecting the very idea- it happens still - but then you see the likes of Luca and Marwan being comfortable in each other's company and also about the love they shared on screen (especially, i think, it begs to say, with them being men), talking happily about their characters, making playlists for them, recommending poems for them

A lot many actors now are open to these conversations, a lot of them now talk about it with nuance and care, with just the right words, and though it's in no way any less a contribution to the conversation, or any less genuine, but again, there is something to be said about the ease Luca shows.

Again, as I said before.. it feels safe, with him.

In a lot of his interviews, he doesn't bat an eye before saying things like - I was lucky to have him as my husband. And he means it, you can tell that by the smile on his face. When people are focusing on the movies' objective and the friendships in it, he easily goes and says it's not only the friendship, but also the love.

In another of his interviews, there was once this question about Roberta, about if he knew what was demanded from him and how he prepared for a transsexual character. I remember it because I was almost sure I'll be hearing some generic answer like I studied trans people for this role and this that blah blah, something ignorant, basically. I was braced for it. But he just said. (And he was talking in english, and all that he was trying to say was conveyed more through his face and gestures, it was super cute actually) - I read the script, and I just felt something. I didn't think about playing a transsexual, but a woman, with a friend. It was important for me to show the love she had for him. So. I just played a woman helping out a friend :)

And I was like ?? wait that's? That's all? You're not going to go deep into the character's psyche and the great moral upstanding you must be feeling for doing a role like this? You're not going to talk about how you "prepared" for this role or how it was "different" for you?

I was so used to people doing that, his simple answer took me by surprise.

and that's what's so refreshing, so comforting.

There's no hesitation in him, no prejudice or preconceived notions or activism, even, compelling his choices and words.

It's just him, plain and simple.

He's committed to his art in a way that people rarely are. Especially in media, where even big companies and huge hollywood stars often fail you.

I wish more people in this world were like him. So gently open in his ways, so effortless in his understanding and acceptance that it becomes intrinsic to him.

He's one of the few people, I would say, who are an artist not just by work, but also by nature.

[aishangotome]

Elbert Greetia: Mad Love Chapter 22

Mad Love Chapter 21

♡———♡

Alfons: Taking a walk this late at night?

Elbert: Al...

I carefully got out of bed, trying not to wake Kate, and ran into Alfons, who seemed to have just returned.

Elbert: ...I wanted to escape from the lingering dream.

Alfons: Oh my... Your bad habit still remains.

As always, the twisted scent of alcohol and perfume he wore slipped into my body, shaken by the nightmare, and smelled sweetly like comfort.

Elbert: ...You've been out playing again?

Alfons: Ah ha! Do I look like I've been working hard?

Alfons: Well, never mind about me for now. More importantly––

Alfons: True to your "greedy" nature, you decided to reach for happiness? You look quite gloomy.

Elbert: I––

He traces his lips with his fingertips, wanting to erase the feeling of her cold lips from the nightmare where they kissed.

Elbert: Someday, I might kill her.

Alfons: ––Oh my, what a dangerous thing to say.

Elbert: Just being by her side made me happy.

Elbert: When she smiled, it was easier to breathe. I wanted to keep watching her forever.

Elbert: That should have been my wish, but I craved everything about her.

Elbert: Her outside, her inside... even her heart.

Alfons: ...Whether it's due to the curse of "greed" or an overly heavy love, it's a delicate matter.

Whether this was due to a curse or not didn't matter.

The fact was that I desired her enough to have such a dream, and that would surely torment her.

Elbert: ...Would being loved by me make her unhappy?

As when he asked if it was beautiful, he found himself asking Alfons.

Alfons: Well, I don't know.

Alfons: I don't know what answer you're hoping for, nor how she would respond.

Alfons: ...Why don't you just spill your desires?

Elbert: ...I can't. ...What if she gets scared and runs away?

Elbert: I would truly... really—

Just as he once did for atonement, this time for happiness, he would imprison her in these greedy hands.

Elbert: I don't want to make her sad.

Alfons: ...This is troublesome.

Alfons: I don't think Kate is as weak as you think she is.

As he left, Alfons' parting words did not erase the anxiety nesting within his heart about his desires.

-

The day Elbert left, I went to the entrance to see him off.

Kate: Have a good trip.

Elbert: .....

Elbert: Kate, come here.

Kate: ? Yes... What is it?

As I approached, beckoned by his hand, he gently pulled me closer and placed a light kiss on my lips.

Kate: L-Lord Elbert, in a place like this...

Elbert: Because it's a place like this... on purpose.

Kate: On purpose...?

I followed his gaze and saw William and Victor crossing the castle courtyard, perhaps returning from somewhere.

William glanced at us, and Victor waved.

(Wh-What...)

Kate: O-On purpose... to those two?

Elbert: ...I'll endure you not being blindfolded, so at least allow me this.

He whispered sweetly in my ear, and my heart pounded.

It's so embarrassing that my ears are burning, but I can't help but be happy to be loved so much by the person I love.

Kate: Y-Yes...

Elbert: ...Yes?

Kate: I allow it...

Elbert: ...Then, one more time.

Kate: The carriage is waiting...!

Elbert reluctantly removed his hand from my shoulder.

Elbert: ...Well then, I'll be back.

In the depths of his blue eyes, until the very end, there was a glimpse of the possessiveness I had seen last night.

-

The next day, during lunchtime, after seeing Elbert off.

Victor: Thank you for the report. It was very well written.

Victor: It clearly described how everyone in Crown upholds justice.

Victor smiled generously after reading the report I submitted.

Victor: And... it was lovely content that also conveyed the warmth of your gaze towards Elbert.

Kate: I'm glad... Thank you.

Victor: There are still a few days until our promised day...

Victor: But the fact that you brought this to me now means that your heart is already decided, isn't it?

Victor stared straight at me, as if peering into my heart with his jewel-like eyes.

(I feel like Victor can see everything that's happening in this castle.)

I even felt like this vast Crown Castle was in his hands.

Kate: ...Yes, Victor.

Kate: I want to stay by Lord Elbert's side even after the promised month.

Victor: Why is that?

(Why...)

The reason I came to this castle and faced forward without succumbing to sadness or fear was because of the kindness he showed me on the night of that first mission when Daisy's inn was attacked, trying to keep me away from sadness.

And then, I realized that he protected me but didn't try to protect himself...

I learned about his past, the tremendous kindness of carrying everything as his own sin, and his bottomless sadness.

(I...)

(More than anyone else, to that person who is sensitive to the pain and sadness of others...)

Kate: Because I want Lord Elbert to smile.

Kate: When he's happy, I want to laugh with him... and when he's sad, I want to be there for him.

Victor: ...Thank you for your wonderful answer, Kate.

Victor: When the promised month arrives, you can do as you please.

Kate: ...Thank you very much.

Harrison: You've changed a lot, haven't you?

Kate: Wah!? Harrison...? When did you...?

I turned around to the direction of the voice and saw Harrison, who had somehow arrived at the dining hall, and Alfons, who was resting his cheek on his hand and looking at us cheerfully, at the other end of the long table.

Kate: Could it be that you heard our conversation...?

Alfons: We heard it clearly, both Harrison and I. We were well-behaved and quiet.

(Oh, how embarrassing...)

(I thought it was okay to open up to Victor, but they heard everything...!)

Victor: Well, actually, I noticed halfway through.

Victor: But I wanted to hear your feelings until the end, so I kept quiet.

Victor: I'm sorry. Will your kind heart forgive this sinful me?

Kate: ...I can't blame you when you say it like that.

Victor: Ahaha, I'm sorry for being a bad adult.

(But still...)

Kate: What do you mean by "changed"?

Harrison: It's exactly what it means.

Harrison: You, who have been walking in a warm sunbeam, are going to continue living in the bloody darkness?

Harrison: I can't say it any other way than "changed."

Kate: That's... certainly true.

Harrison: ...While you still can, you should go see your workplace and your home.

Kate: Huh?

Harrison: Once you decide to live in the darkness, it's not easy to return.

Harrison: While you can still return, it's better to face your own heart properly.

(Face my own heart...)

I thought about Harrison's suggestion for a moment, and a certain place came to mind.

Kate: ...Actually, there was a place I wanted to visit.

Victor: Is that so?

Kate: Yes. ...But I can't go alone, so I need someone to accompany me.

Harrison: I'll pass, since El might resent me.

Alfons: That's heartless of you, considering you're the one who suggested it.

(Indeed, if Elbert finds out, I feel like he'll be very upset.)

(But...)

Kate: I don't think Alfons would be resented.

Kate: Could you accompany me tomorrow?

Alfons: ...I'm sorry, I have something to do tomorrow.

Victor: Oh! I just received a message from His Majesty,

Victor: He says that Alfons should accompany Kate on her outing!

Harrison: I've just witnessed a terrible abuse of power.

Victor: Huh? "I saw a cool queen's aide"? Harry, you really love me!

Alfons: ...I suppose there's no helping it. It's extremely troublesome, but I'll accompany you.

Alfons: I expect a decent reward, Kate.

(Reward...)

Kate: ...Is information about a delicious bakery okay...?

Alfons: .....

Alfons: You two really are a perfect match, you and Elbert.

-

The next day, I was in the city of London with Alfons.

Alfons: So, you want to see your home and workplace, and that's all?

Kate: No, actually...

I went to the post office to say hello and was able to talk to my colleagues for the first time in a while.

I was also able to see my house for the first time in about a month.

(I can't go back to the way it was, but I was happy then too.)

I remember the peaceful, modest, yet joyful life I had in all the nostalgic places I just saw.

And then...

Kate: ...Actually, there's one more place I want to visit.

The place we're heading to now is a place I must not forget.

Alfons: Your destination, could it be this place?

After buying flowers at a flower shop, we visited the inn where Daisy used to work.

Kate: I've always been worried about it in the back of my mind and wanted to offer flowers someday.

Alfons: Is that so...

Alfons: ...There were only nameless corpses, weren't there? You're quite a conscientious person too.

Kate: Me "too"...?

The way he phrased it bothered me a little, but Alfons went to the back door without a care.

-

Kate: Huh...?

As I stepped inside from the back door, which had once been filled with a pool of blood, the inn was so clean now that it was hard to believe a bloody incident had occurred there.

(The owner barged into the party to get the "painting of the sea," and then...)

(He should have been arrested and absent... who could have done this?)

I gasped when I saw something very familiar on the counter.

It was that frame with the pressed blue poppies.

Kate: Lord Elbert...?

(I saw him doing some paperwork these past few days....)

I couldn't believe it, so I looked back at Alfons.

Kate: Did Lord Elbert buy this place?

Alfons: Did you come here without knowing anything?

Alfons: You two have similar ways of thinking.

Alfons sat down on a table as if exasperated and looked around the room.

Alfons: He said he's going to rent this place out as a flower shop.

Alfons: Daisy, was it? Because he couldn't deliver flowers to her.

Alfons: And I think he also said something about whether you would smile if this place was filled with flowers.

Kate: ...!

Alfons: From now on, he'll probably buy everything that makes you happy.

(Elbert...)

His kindness warmed my heart.

The blue poppies blooming in the frame seemed to shine even more vividly.

After leaving the bouquet at the inn, we headed back to the castle.

Kate: Thank you again for accompanying me today.

Kate: I had already made up my mind, but...

Kate: I feel like it's become even more certain.

(Sad events like what happened to Daisy are still happening in the darkness of this country.)

(Knowing that, I can't truly return to my everyday life.)

If I close my eyes for a moment, the vivid blue poppies I saw earlier bloom behind my eyelids.

Kate: I want to face it with Lord Elbert. The events that happened at that inn...

Kate: And more than anything, I want to share the pain with that person who hates sadness.

Alfons: ...El's desires for you won't all be sublimated as purely as that inn.

(Huh...?)

His pointed remark made me frown involuntarily.

Kate: What does that mean...?

Alfons: The reason El left... was to take care of Jeffrey, who was targeting you.

Kate: Huh...?

Alfons: It seems William found out from the client list he obtained that Jeffrey was the one who ordered your kidnapping.

Alfons: It was his first offense, and only an attempt, so the police won't be able to pursue him.

Alfons: But... you already understand that Elbert won't let him get away with it, right?

(Elbert... Jeffrey...)

(So... that's why he told me not to follow him.)

Kate: ...Why are you telling me this?

Alfons: Because the spot you're standing on right now is a rather heavy crossroads to choose a path without knowing.

Alfons shrugged and laughed, then narrowed his eyes as if testing me.

Alfons: Elbert will surely continue to take the lives of many people.

Alfons: To protect you, to not let you be taken away, to not make you sad.

Alfons: To keep you smiling.

Alfons: To eliminate everything that threatens the happiness of the two of you, and to obtain everything that leads to the happiness of the two of you.

Alfons: There is no bottom to his "greed."

He said this without hesitation, the one who is probably closest to Elbert.

(I think what Alfons says is the undeniable truth...)

He has been greedily desiring "beautiful things" to atone for his sins.

That desire is now probably directed towards "everything" to be happy with me.

Alfons: Can you remain unbroken by El's side as he continues to commit the sin of greed?

Kate: I won't know until that time comes... that's my honest feeling.

Kate: If he intends to do something that would hurt even himself, I might try to stop him.

(I know it's selfish of me to think this way.)

(I know that by wishing for happiness and protecting it, Elbert... that kind person will also get hurt.)

I had probably been thinking about this all along, even before Alfons mentioned it.

Kate: But...

Kate: I'm... happy that Lord Elbert seeks happiness.

Every time Elbert showed his strong attachment to me, I realized how distant and fleeting love and happiness were for him.

So, to be able to respond to that obsession, I feel happy and blessed.

Kate: So...

Alfons: ...So?

Kate: So...even if Lord Elbert were to commit some grave sin in the future...

Kate: I want to accept Lord Elbert, along with that sin...

Kate: I want to love Lord Elbert.

Alfons: ...What a fool you are.

Gray eyes slowly approach.

(Huh...?)

At the moment when a complex and twisted sweet scent wafted strongly - my lips were stolen by Alfons.

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Mad Love Chapter 23

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[starlemonbunki]

Purpose! AU

Tags: major character death, depressed chuuya, hints of soukoku, hinted dissociative amnesia, decay of angels chuuya, fyodor pretty much wants chuuya to join him lol he's so whipped

I'm planning on drawing for this au too, but the quality of the pictures will be bad if I post them thru my phone. So here's my art account, posted straight from my drawing tablet, it's mostly mha art so far but I'm going to add hints of bsd in there too.

Art acc: @god-shit-girl-art

"Everything you have, and everything you've lost, I'll give it a purpose. Your past, your present, and your future, give it to me. And I will give you purpose."

Chuuya laid achingly amidst the softness around him. Linen sheets and silk pillowcases danced around him on his bed, and yet, he paid them no mind.

A heart can only take so much. But in his case, it seemed as if it had nothing left, nothing to give, nothing to own, nothing to fight for.

It had been 2 months since Dazai mysteriously died. He feels guilty for the fact that he cannot even remember how it happened. The death of his....someone....and his mind couldn't even grant him the decency to remember.

It was like that in cases of trauma. Just like the heart, the mind can only take so much before it breaks. Shattering like a mirror, some pieces will inevitably break apart, never to be seen again.

All he knows is that before he died, however he died, Dazai had used his Ability on Chuuya. And now that he was gone, so was his Ability. Chuuya no longer has the power of gravity manipulation, but for some odd reason, he wasn't mourning over it.

Whether Dazai had left him a note, a phrase, a word, or anything at all, he didn't know. It was all a part of the shattered mirror that was his mind. He couldn't even remember how he died, or if he even left him anything. Part of him wished, prayed, begged for this to all be some sort of scheme, one of Dazai's old tricks. He wasn't dead, no, this is just part of his plan. Somehow, some way he and the ADA will fix this mess, and they'll be together again. Someday, any day now.

....right?

The creak of a large wooden door could be heard from across the room, reminding Chuuya of where he was. He didn't bother getting up, or even looking in its direction. He laid there like a lifeless dog, after losing its owner.

"Nakahara Chuuya," came a voice. Deep and laced with an accent. Chuuya knew who it was, and was half-hoping to hear the sound of an ADA member, telling him to get up and that Dazai needed him for the next phase of his plan.

When Chuuya didn't reply, footsteps answered instead. The sound of hard leather soles against the expensive polished wood, it rang in his ears. He never bothered to really listen to them before.

"I have to admit, it was hard to find you," said the man, tall and slender, his shadow doing justice to his sleek and mysterious nature.

"This penthouse of yours, seems far too big for just one person. However I do believe you'd been visited many a night, correct?"

Asshole.

Did he just call Chuuya a whore?

Perhaps it was the thinly veiled insult, or how Chuuya just realized that a powerful enemy whose strength outweighed his own was now in his bedroom, but the ginger found the strength to sit back up. However slowly and groggily, with his hair a red-orange mess that framed his face and a dress shirt unbuttoned across his chest. His blue eyes seemed more grey, now that Fyodor looks at it. Were they always this dull?

"What do you want you anemic son of a bitch," Chuuya said, it wasn't a question.

Fyodor didn't answer. Instead the two stared at each other, one with eyes posing no threat and one with eyes that couldn't pose any even if it wanted to. In his mind, the Russian compared the man's blue-grey eyes to that of an empty glass. Nothing to give, nothing but potential.

"Dazai's dead." Chuuya said finally. His voice was hoarse and he could taste his thick saliva. How long had it been since he brushed his teeth or combed his hair? Was he wearing the same clothes he did that day 2 months ago? Or was it that night?

"I am aware, yes." Fyodor said, his voice and demeanor unwavering. What did this asshole want?

Chuuya looked down, facing his hands that laid aimlessly on his knees, legs folded, blankets ruffled and forgotten. There were wounds on them. Why were there wounds on them?

"However, I am not here for him."

Chuuya looked back at the dark-haired man, noticing a change in his attire. His coat that had once terrorized countless innocents in its dark tone was now white, with dark feathers around the collar. He could barely see what was inside, though.

"You look unwell." He said.

"Yeah? Great, thanks." Chuuya retorted sarcastically. "That's what I was goin' for, actually."

Fyodor chuckled at his comment, voice deep and alluring.

"You know, Chuuya, a man is only as great as his biggest weakness."

"Fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Fyodor maintained his smile, and began walking to the side of the room slowly, leather shoes rhythmically playing the wooden floor like a piano. Slow and steady, each note just like the last. Like it was leading up to something.

"It's a story of power. Lose and obtain. Give and take. Something must be lost in order for another to be found."

Fyodor took one of the floor-length curtains in one of his pale, slender hands. His illuminating lilac eyes remained focused on the redhead.

"You lost one of your biggest crutches," He said. "And in turn, one of your biggest weaknesses. Ride a bicycle with training wheels, and you'll never truly learn to ride without them."

"Wait a second," Chuuya finally gained the strength to speak again. "Are you talking about Dazai?"

Fyodor nodded, as if he was happy to hear Chuuya was on the right track.

"The man was a necessary loss. The final stepping stone to your metamorphosis. Because of him, and everyone who you've lost before, you now have the choice to become something greater."

"And what's that?" Chuuya scowled. "Another one of your chess pieces? Another pawn to your sick little game? Dazai is dead, you've won. What more could you possibly want from me?"

"Ah, you take the king away," Fyodor said, "but the queen still has all the power."

With that, his hand flew to the side, opening the curtains wide enough to see the world below it, the world outside. Cars and streetlights, people out on the town, the moon shining just as bright as before, as if nothing had changed.

"Even without your Ability, I believe you still have the potential to create more," He said, staring up into the stars.

Chuuya emerged from the darkness of his canopy bed, the first time he stood on his own two feet in ages. He walked to Fyodor's side, entranced by the light of the moon.

"Ah, how fitting for it to be a third quarter tonight." Fyodor said.

"A what?"

"A third quarter. Only half the moon is visible tonight, the other is shadowed in the dark. And yet, it's still just as beautiful, no?"

Fyodor faced Chuuya, albeit having to look down a little bit to look him in the eye.

"Everything you have, and everything you've lost, I'll give it a purpose. Join me, give me your past, your present and your future, trust it with me and I will give you a new purpose."

Fyodor stretched his hand out to Chuuya.

"Together, the moon will shine even brighter than before."

"What do you say, Chuuya Nakahara?"

[fox-quills]

Fox!!!!!! <3333

For the ask meme: 4 and 8 <333

<33333!!! 4. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

YOU!!!!! Know the answer to this very well, you enabler lmao. OKAY SO the correct answer to this would be "haha no I'm being a good writer and focusing on my current wips" but the true answer is "dear god so many save me please" Let's see if I can manage a quick rundown: - Dragon Crimes (aideku): Fantasy AU in which Shouta is a Hot Dragon with a contentious relationship to pants, and Izuku seduces him with the power of freckles and good parenting - Sequel to Slow Slide (dekumic): In which Hizashi is a neurotic headcase and tries to self-sabotage himself out a good thing but luckily nobody lets him - Sequel to Ships in the Night (aideku): Shouta and Izuku come out of a one night stand unreasonably obsessed with each other, and Hitoshi and Hizashi have to intervene because they're both a mess. - Villain Izuku (aidekumic): "Because you haven't written villain Izuku or alpha Hizashi yet" The commission makes a calculated risk, but man are they bad at math. Izuku is very competent and very angry, and Shouta and Hizashi definitely want to kiss him about it. I keep telling myself that I'll be free from the fanfic someday, but no. No I will not. 8. Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it. So I have—what we will politely call—a poor memory, so I definitely do not have a killer line on deck ready to throw down. My favorite bits of dialogue tends to be the funny stuff, because I'm generally not great at humor so I'm always extra proud of myself when I manage to make myself giggle lol. ALTHOUGH I did find an old conversation about favorite snippets, so I'll do that one so I don't wind up digging through all my fic for hours. From Mobius: All the frustration that had been building in him on the topic came pouring out, Izuku near shaking with frustration at the futility of his situation. "But then what if I did? What if I laid it all out and put the burden of fixing the future on you, and you couldn't? How many pebbles do you have to toss in the river to change the flow?" Izuku sniffled, scrubbing roughly at the blur of tears he barely felt. "And what if, in trying to fix the future, I wind up making it all worse? Because it was—it was terrible and bloody and so many people died, but we won. And I keep thinking, about all the people we lost, and how we could save them, but changing the future isn't something you can predict. What if I manage to save a life?" The words came faster and faster, spilling out of him like blood from a wound. "What if I save ten, a hundred, a thousand? And what if, in the process of making sure we win the battle, I've only ensured we lose the war?" Silly Time Bonus, from Justice in Defiance:

Kacchan snorted. "Don't get mad at me because you decided to go cruising for ass at the retirement home."

[shamedumpster]

Hiya! So I've been reading Les Misérables recently and also thinking about tarot. If you could draw a deck, who/what would you choose to put on each card? For me, it's obvious sometimes (Marius and Cosette as the Lovers, Bishop Myriel as the Hierophant) but less obvious other times (Empress????? there are only 3 female characters in the entire book and Éponine is so firmly the Tower to me ((because she's been residing in struggle city for the last 100+ years)) but I don't know if Cosette or Fantine fit). I also don't know if it's weird to have Enjolras as two cards because he fits both Justice (that scene with Le Cabuc hello) and the Sun (everything) to a T! So uhhhh yeah it would be interesting to hear your thoughts



Oh hi! :D I'm honored that you're curious enough to ask! To be completely honest, I don't feel like I know enough about tarot to be able to offer a ton of insight. ^^; I tried going through the characters a long time ago and assigning them tarot cards, but that was years ago now and I doubt I'd even agree with my own reasoning at the time.

However! I do remember what I'd assigned Enjolras, and I still think it's cool conceptually. He does make a good Sun, but I had put him as The Hanged man, specifically because of this imagery from the 2012 movie vs the classic card:

And this description I found of the card: The Hanged Man shows a man suspended from a T-shaped cross made of living wood. He is hanging upside-down, viewing the world from a completely different perspective, and his facial expression is calm and serene, suggesting that he is in this hanging position by his own choice. He has a halo around his head, symbolizing new insight, awareness and enlightenment. His right foot is bound to the tree, but his left foot remains free, bent at the knee and tucked in behind his right leg[...]

The Hanged Man is the card of ultimate surrender, of being suspended in time and of martyrdom and sacrifice to the greater good.

What with Enjolras telling the national guard to shoot him in the brick, and the halo imagery, coupled with this specific staging of him hanging by one leg, I simply cannot resist that pairing. Maybe someday I'll actually draw it, who knows.

Thank u for the ask!!

[riddler-green]

I fell in love with your writing omgg:0 so Edward finds out that the person he likes (with whom he is obsessed lmao) is a fan of riddler and even has a crush on him 9v9

Te observo.

Summary: Edward discovers that you are a follower of his alter ego.

A/n: hheeeeeeeey hi! how are you?? after a long pause I'm back! in Mexico it's semana santa holidays! sooo I finally have time to catch up with the requests! besides, yesterday I sprained my ankle but that gives me more time to write and I'll be better soon. (´ ε ` )♡

by the way i hope you like it! and thank you very much for the request! I think I got carried away so I'm sorry if it's not what you expected. (*^.^*)

warning: swearing, obsessive behavior, Fluff!

Words: 3,800

Edward played with one of his feathers, pressing the feather spring to relax from his growing anxiety. He knows that looking at you for a long time is strange but he can't stop doing it. From the first time he saw you, he was completely immobile with wonder, every day he delighted in seeing you. He thought you never knew of his existence, because despite being co-workers and practically working in similar jobs, he was too shy to even speak to you, so he assumed you never even glanced at him. In his mind, he had these innocent little fantasies that someday you would pay attention to him and he would gladly see you without guilt or looking like a freak. But he is a coward, a man who fears what he already knows will happen at some point.

That's why he doesn't try, he doesn't want to face that rejection that already hangs on his forehead, yet he still thinks of you, even in his dreams you appear as a sweet reminder of his memory. He sighs with love for the mere fact that you existed. 

"Hey, I need this document by Monday" Zach interrupts his admiration with an authoritative voice, Edward coughs falsely to distract himself from the fact that he was watching you instead of working "yeah, um, of course" he replies to Zach and the man in the blue suit out of his sight without saying goodbye.

Edward contemplates the files in his hands, sheets after sheets of payrolls that in a couple of hours, he would solve all, back in his mind he wonders if you like numbers too, well, it's not like he could ask you, he arranged the files in alphabetical order and before he started working a scream stops him.

"It's official!" a voice Edward doesn't know speaks again, when he turns to see who it is he looks at a human rights employee pasting a sign on the bulletin board "It is officially forbidden to talk about The Riddler and The Batman!" The employee speaks loudly drawing the attention of the other employees, others ignore him but saw the sign, and others stared at him still processing the news.

Edward gasped, he didn't know whether to laugh or cry, did they just ban them from his office? He does not know how to take it, is he considered a danger to the company? His face does not reflect the emotion he keeps inside, Batman and he have taken relevance in the city, as new icons of justice, although the Riddler remains a sensitive issue for many.

"May I know the reason?" he flinched at the sound of your voice, he saw your figure approach the statement already taped to the board and you examined it completely, uh, that surprised Edward, as far as he remembers you were always a model employee, you don't generate problems, your sign in and out sheet is flawless (it's not like he's seen it) your documents are just as good, but seeing you now he worries, why are you angry?

Edward watches as you chat with the human resources employee, apparently not a pleasant chat, as you return to your seat with an angry look on your face. He can't take his eyes off your scowl until you turn up to type something on your computer.

Edward sighs, so many repressed things he has inside his being and unfortunately, it's not something he can get it out, the love he has for you is one of those things he can't undo (he doesn't want to), as for him, it feels like a small stain on his office.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

"Damn KMTJ, don't they know they are doing them a favor?" you whisper to yourself angrily, abruptly typing the last report of the day, there was no need to forbid talking about a certain topic, you stopped typing for a moment. 

Remember the first time you saw him, your idol, yes, that's right, your idol. If someone found out that you were part of that select radical group of Riddler's followers they would probably send you on an all-expense paid trip straight to Arkham, but do you care? No, honestly no, the admiration you have for the masked man is something genuine and devoted. In the past you only engaged with him, you only had ears to hear about events happening in the city and you couldn't agree more, his speeches moved you so much that you never missed any of his videos, and you even participated in some clandestine demonstrations with the significant question mark sign.

Until one day he unknowingly broke your heart.

You stared at the monitor screen as you remembered the precise moment when your heart broke in two, those seconds when The Riddler declared in one of his lives, that he fell in love.

You cried that day and the day after that, and the day after that, your life turned into a mess for the simple fact that you Riddler already set your eyes on someone else. In your darkest thoughts, you wanted that person to reject him or disappear from his life, even though you wouldn't stand a chance anyway.

But then came another problem named Edward Nashton.

The first thing you saw in him was his sad eyes covered by the lenses of his glasses, such melancholic eyes that you only wanted to give him affection and love. But then you notice that glow in his person, a shy and helpful glow that at all costs wants to help others, a caring soul that does his job excellently and brilliantly since then Edward flits through your mind as a reassurer of the suffering that the Riddler left you.

But still, you didn't dare to talk to him, when you watched him walk in the door in the mornings you shrank back in cowardice, you didn't want to suffer another brutal rejection from someone else, oh please Edward must already have a bunch of suitors, you crudely think starting to work again to distract yourself from your frustrating love life.

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One day, Edward received a message from his computer specially made for his other job, a homemade laptop with other computer parts, and a private message from his forum as it happened every day.

>> Hi! This, um, Mr.Riddler I admire your mission and your vision of what you want for this city, I know you probably don't know me but I just want to say that I want to be a part of your mission toward a safer Gotham for the future.

Edward's first impression from you is a, mmhm, another message from a random supportive follower, he noticed another message in the inbox.

>> Extraclassified Documents.zip 

>> I got this information for you, I don't doubt you are a great hacker to find this information on your own, but um, I just want to help you.

>>I swear, this is official information.

>>From KMTJ.

What?

Edward was puzzled when he read the final message. Maybe it was his imagination playing a joke on him, maybe he was too tired from the hours he hasn't slept but he was sure he read it right.

>>From KMTJ.

>>From KMTJ.

>>From KMTJ.

Fuck, is that what he thinks it is? He opens the document and it is what the file name says, it's not a virus as he expected, it's case files that have to do with the renovation, signed by Mr. stone, his fucking boss.

Edward turns away from the screen extremely surprised and puts his hands to his head touching his hair, a mole, there's a mole in his company and damn it, he's helping him.

He tries to figure out who it could be from his colleagues, these files are only possessed by the accountants in his section, which is almost a dozen people including you. He thinks of random names and shakes his head, no one in his office has shown empathy for his alter ego, so, it probably must have been another hacker who wants to help him.

He scratches his neck nervously, this puts him on edge because when he looks at the documents his follower gave him he notices the signatures of all his classmates, including his and yours.

Ha, ironically he thinks how nice your signature and his would look on a marriage certificate.

He leans back in the seat re-reading the documents, should he take this as a threat to his identity? No, he protects all his data like gold, this is probably a coincidence. But then an uncomfortable feeling arises in him, you are also included in these files, and your identity could be at risk.

He types heavily on his computer trying to find out the data of the follower who gave him all this, but he found nothing, a fake VPN, fake data, his follower is smart, mmm, not bad.

How did you get this?

His follower responded at that instant.

>> I...

>>I work there.

Holy cow, his head explodes with anxiety, but little by little he becomes proud of the influence his words have on others, he is not as alone as he expected. 

>>? who are you?

He didn't think when he wrote that, silly Edward, do you think he will answer you, obviously his follower didn't answer.

Edward started printing the newly discovered files while contemplating the board above him, so many things were put on that board it was hard to concentrate on one, he saw the pictures of the corrupt he killed and the next ones on his list, he sees the pictures of Batman and he also sees your pictures, he put them in his work center to calm down when he had seizures. 

Oh, he doubts you'll notice him someday, but dreaming is free.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Mr. Stone kept a straight face stroking his beard and looking at the leaves in front of him, Zach, Edward, and you waited patiently for him to say his next orders, Edward started sweating from nerves and shyness, as he stood next to you the whole moment he was almost sure he could smell you and god, you smell so good.

"The Riddler has been a kick in the ass for this company" stated Mr.Stone rudely turning his eyes away from the sheets to focus on the three standing behind his large desk "You are the best accountants we have in the section, tell me how the Riddler could have so much information on the renovation?" Mr. Stone asked the air and Edward swore he was already shaking, easily excused but all this overwhelmed him, the hard look of his boss, you being so close to him, he can't stand it.

"Thank you for your confidence sir, but believe me I have no idea how that happened" Zach opines smoothing his blue suit, and Mr.Stone does not respond.

"The Riddler is smart sir" you started to speak and Edward turned around surprised by what you said "I fully understand that you think there is a mole in our company, but most likely the mole has infiltrated our system" you explain formally and Edward gawks at what you say You think The Riddler is smart? That strokes his ego.

Mr. Stone takes a moment to respond, he sighs tiredly leaning back in his chair "Yeah that's the same thing I thought, I just wanted to know what you guys think" Mr.stone started to speak again but Edward had already disconnected from reality by then, you flattered him, well, you flattered the Riddler and that makes his cheeks heat up. 

Edward knows he's getting closer and closer to the mole, it's not Zach, he barely knows it's a prime number, however you...

Hahahaha, no.

You came out of your thoughts when you heard Mr. stone say goodbye to the three of you, Zach came out of the office first with phone in hand to call someone as soon as he left, the second to leave was you, with your head held high and making Edward admire you closely, you turned to see him when he closed the door of Mr. stone's office.

"Hey, Edward, right?" you raise your hand in greeting and he quickly accepts "um, yeah, it's me" he clarifies nervously but was glad he didn't look stupid when you spoke to him.

"Do you have any idea who it could be? You know..." you start walking and Edward follows your step listening carefully to what you are going to say "the mole?" you finish your question going down step by step towards the first floor, the glasses man takes his moment to answer "I don't know who it is" he finds it very intriguing as with Mr. Stone you said it was probably someone else in the company but now you ask him this and it only confuses him more.

"Me neither but" you chuckle, maybe lying to your office crush is harder than your boss, you stop looking at Edward, "I think it's a one-time thing" you assure returning to your seat before waving goodbye to him "See ya, Eddie."

He doesn't say anything, but it's impossible not to hear how his heart beats, he was probably having a heart attack or he gets nervous next to you, but hey! You don't think he's a freak.

That's fine with him.

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Edward doubted what he is doing right now, he knows it is wrong, and he knows that anyone could come and catch him looking at the file history in his own office. But really, his curiosity gnaws at him, that feeling that won't let him sleep, there is a follower near him but he doesn't know him nor he follower him, if only he could know, who is helping him?

With the lamp on his phone, he lit up the file history sheet, on that sheet he saw all the company's files, who requests them, what documents were requested, and when they are requested in the pile of file cabinets that are used to store information for generations, he managed to find with a little effort, he saw the last person who entered and left the file room.

It was you.

What?

He almost dropped the phone in shock, he laughed with hesitation, this couldn't happen, you, the mole?

No, this cannot be true.

He read your name again and even saw your signature. You came to that place the same day the information was sent to him. He took a picture of the sheet and quickly started saving evidence that he was there.

It has a lot to think about.

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Edward slammed his door shut, his raincoat barely left him dry as his hair got wet from the rain, he didn't mind the wet feeling on his body, living in Gotham has gotten him used to rainwater not bothering him, he must admit he is in a state of euphoria still, all the way from KMTJ he kept stopping at what he discovered, he kept repeating himself and it didn't tire him, this was better than winning the lottery in his opinion. He could easily shout from the rooftops that he knows he exists and not only that, you also support The Riddler. He had no idea how to continue, yes, you want him, but do you want Edward Nasthon, the other half of him?

It frustrates him, it frustrates him too much when he doesn't know the missing piece of his mental puzzle, in this instance what do you think of him. should he move forward as Edward? should he move forward as The Riddler? He doesn't know what to decide.

He could go on for hours thinking about those little details so he won't end up ruining anything, he took off his blue raincoat and placed it on his chair, he needs to work, someday he will come up with an answer but he needs to get organized. 

You are one of his followers, you, the person he admires from afar every day and feels fulfilled when you smile, you understand it too, you are smarter than many think.

He wrote down everything he had in mind on a whiteboard, brainstorming helps him decide on something.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

You yawned as you took a seat in your work cubicle, it was the first hour of the day and you wanted to go home, to re-watch the recent video of the Riddler, but you need to work, those donations you make are not free.

but before you could start working a card appeared in your files, a green card, you grabbed the card and picked it out, and hid it in your lap to read the contents.

I know who you are, I know you helped me, find me and you will know who I am.

My goodness gracious, it's a miracle you didn't feel a heart attack from whatever is going on, there is no doubt this letter is from your Riddler, you hold the urge to scream from the rooftops that he will deem you worthy of his attention, he wants you to meet him!!!! 

What has hands, but can't clap?

You read the riddle in the letter, written in the same alphabet he invented, and left messages to his followers with that same code.

On the other hand, Edward spies on you from his cubicle covering his smile with his clasped hands, he didn't know how to tell you that he knew, so he planned to let you know with riddles, his specialty. watch you get up from your seat to look for the object of the riddle.

Let the treasure hunt begin!

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There were many clocks in the office, and you inspect them all, from the receptionist's clock to the desk clock your cubicle neighbor has, until you find a new clue on the second-floor clock, the one outside Mr. Stone's entrance. you looked behind the clock and found a note.

 What kind of mail can a mouse send?

You laughed at the response. You grabbed the note and ran back to your desk, went to your work email, and found a new message from an unknown email address.

I am close to you

but I know you don't know the truth

I am among your coworkers

and I know you can solve my clue

you look around for anyone looking at you, but everyone seems absorbed in whatever it is they're working on, you go back to focusing on the message.

What can you catch, but not throw?

this riddle is a little hard for you to figure out, what it has to do with the office, until the light bulb in your head goes on, from afar Edward sees you approaching the cubicle of the coworker who missed today because he has a cold.

you are happy to see another note under your co-worker's keyboard, you take the note and go back to your desk, you thought that this search will be more difficult or more dramatic, but you are having a lot of fun, even though you may be in a state of danger.

last riddle, but I haven't finished

look for me where the cleaning is located, even if it's narrow I keep a lot of things.

You raise an eyebrow - the cleaning room? Is that what he means? Without a doubt the answer, you quietly make your way to the elevator, looking for the cleaning room.

Edward gets up from his seat and heads for the elevator as well, waiting until you've already left to look for you.

⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆┈┈｡ﾟ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ❁ུ۪ ❃ུ۪ ❀ུ۪ ﾟ｡┈┈⋆

Edward clenched his hands looking at the door of the cleaning room, he was almost a minute daring to come in to see you, but he is still anxious, too nervous to even be surprised, you love the riddler, but will you be disappointed if he were him? would you tell on him and leave him alone? would you be ashamed?

In his mind, he convinces himself that you are not like that, that you will love him as he is.

but he doubts it.

On the other side of the door you are in complete darkness, standing in the middle of brooms and mops, with your nerves on edge you wait patiently for the person who sent you all those riddles, you smile remembering all the adventures you had to do to get here, you look for the light switch but with so much darkness you can't find it.

They open the door and you are instantly startled, you look at the person who opened the door, the light from outside made Edward look like an angel, someone so beautiful that you were fascinated to behold him. 

"Edward?" you ask confused but at the same time ecstatic, he gives you a nervous smile entering the small room and turning on the light switch. the room gave a yellowish glow and the light from the bulb is not that strong, but the warmth in the place made you more nervous. 

Edward stood at the other end of the room, across from you, as the room is small there is little space that separates you "umm... surprise!" Edward gives an unconvincing laugh, his already hot cheeks coy him, his cowardice starts to work and he doesn't know what to say. 

"you are?..." you don't finish your question, you slowly approach the bespectacled man, Edward starts sweating, feeling cornered he looks at the door he came through but you are so close to him that he can see the details of your face "It's you right?" you want to clarify one last time, he nods his head slowly and looking at you appreciatively.

you shout in joy, and in a fit of euphoria, you hug Edward "oh! it's you! it's you!" you repeat and move closer to him with the hug, the brown-haired man receives the hug in disbelief. 

"It's me!" he smiles accepting your affection, clinging in your arms to feel your presence and soothe him, but before he can get used to it you pull away from him to look him in the eyes "you did all that?" he didn't know what you meant but he agrees with you anyway "yes, I did".

"Oh, Edward!" you close your eyes hugging yourself again "I'm such a fool!" you exclaim with annoyance.

"Why do you say that?" he asks you surprised, for the first time he is so close to someone he is so comfortable in your arms. you laugh softly hugging him "there is a lot I have to tell you" you murmur to him, this was like winning the lottery, you dreamed of razing the riddler to death and then you started dreaming about Edward, but now you are with both of them, you feel that gratification of life.

"Okay" speaks Edward happily, the two continue to function, it doesn't matter that they are both in the small cleaning room, you forget everything else when you are with Edward, this situation feels so intimate and sweet that you just want to hug Edward.

It was worth the treasure hunt.

Edward closes his eyes to calm down and just focus on your touch, the insecurities that plagued him gone.

Thank you very much for reading! And sorry for the mistakes! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧.

[einsatzzz]

more merch to be added to my hibari shrine yippeee! i love this set in particular bc he's smiling there while hibird is leaning on his cheek, its so cute! awawawawawawa 🥺🥺🥺💜💜💜 its not that noticeable in the pic, but theres some transparency(?) with the light purple cloth that's on his waist too. makes me wonder if i can get the printing service i know to do a similar effect for custom acrylic stands i want to have printed out in the future

and that big acrylic thingie is so nice, the glitters float around when you shake it. its not in the picture, but i also bought an A3 poster of him in the ouji set. still trying to flatten it out bc its been rolled up for a while lol. there's these two big-ass blankets of him too, but idk how to display it in a way to give it justice mdbsndgdjdh maybe later

(literally on the floor/carpet while taking pictures of these)

the lns + the art books im missing is also here! i have all the og manga volumes alr, but i wanna get the new versions too with the new covers someday (when i save up again lol).

i skimmed thru the the art books and found ACTUAL CANON HIBARI BABY PHOTOS?????!!!!!! LIKE HOLY SHIT, IM GOING TO KMS??!!! (/POSITIVE) I NEED TO HAVE THIS TL'ED ASAP 😭😭😭 THEN THERE'S HIM EATING HIS FAVE HAMBURG STEAK TOO, THEN TETSU EVEN PUT A FLAG ON IT FKDBSKSGJSSHJS WHERE WERE ALL THESE HIBARI LORE ALL THIS TIME, WHY IS THIS THE FIRST TIME IM SEEING THIS??!!! ---bye guys, i have a mission, im an expert oc-ologist but im also a dedicated hibari-ologist 🫡🫡🫡

(also its such a bonus for me that hibari is in all the covers of these books--- hahahaha)

also some character song(?) cds were included in the set i bought! will need to buy an external cd drive tho, bc my laptop doesn't have one.

anyway, there are some other stuff im still waiting on. i think i should be getting it soon?? it just got delayed bc of a typhoon orz aaaaaa srill so happy, idk how i'll disolay these in the shrine/my room. i say its my room/office, but ig its hibari's room now with hm his face is plastered all over it lmao

[greyskiii]

College Main Character Syndrome

Two years ago, I've been stuck in a pace where there's a lot of paths in front of me. I was never certain which path I really wanted to take. But, just a few months ago, when I graduated high school, I had to wipe my tears and loosen up my grip of the past—my high school journey, my teachers, my class, and even my high school friends. Plus, I had to accept the fact that my lover and I have different dreams to chase, but at least here I am, giving him my love and support from afar, like he does to me as well. It was hard, but I had to do it. Now, here I am, on my own, facing the approaching challenges ahead of me as a college freshman from the field of Accountancy. I know it was gonna be a struggle for me, since this is far from my interests and I graduated Humanities and Social Sciences back in my senior year. But, I knew I had to do this, for the betterment of my life, for the sake of getting a degree in Law a few years from now, for the sake of the less fortunate people in my country. Honestly, as cliché as it sounds, everything only goes smooth and easy at first. Not really stressing much, I was still able to catch up with my classmates, my schedule, and our lectures. However, as times passes by, I'm starting to feel the real struggles. It was hard for me to the point that I spent my weekends crying alone or ranting to my boyfriend about it. I once thought that maybe this degree wasn't really meant for me because I slowly lost my grip and I couldn't understand everything anymore. However, Soleil (that's how I call my lover), insisted that this is just one big struggle and that I can still make it up to myself. One failure may affect me, but it could never define me as a whole. Despite doubting or hesitating to trust other people, he told me to at least once ask for help from my peers and professors. It may have been a bit difficult for me to accept all of Soleil's words, but I'm taking it crumb by crumb, step by step. From then on, I had to breathe deeply, and put all his words in my mind and heart, and let it serve as my inspiration. For now, I'm slowly trying to get up again, and pick up where I've left off. Hopefully, someday, I'll be able to say that I finally succeeded, and he, along with the people deprived of justice, are the reason behind my success.

[theelfdruid]

A request I did for one of my cosmere servers of one of the library scenes from Elantris. I'll do a real painting again someday.

I spent far too long figuring out what clothing to give Sarene to match the description of "a red blouse and a blue skirt going to the mid calf" while also keeping it looking relatively appropriate for a medieval european-esque setting. I actually like the result, pity I didn't do it justice.

[Image ID: Two drawings of Sarene and Raoden in the Elantris library, shortly after Sarene has been been poisoned to look like she has the Shaod. The first drawing has a camera view from behind Sarene, dressed in a red shirt, blue skirt, and orange wimple covering her bald head, and she leans over a book. She is illuminated by a oil lamp inside her reading nook. Raoden leans against the wall in the background, smiling at her in admiration. The second drawing is of the same scene with the camera now behind Raoden, with Serene gesturing excitedly as she looks up to speak to him.]