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maxwell-grant · 3 years

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Excuse Me what is pulp and why is it importan?

Good question! And probably one I should have answered sooner. Time to put on the historian hat for this one.

"Pulp" is a term used mainly to describe forms of storytelling that sprang out or were dominant in 20th century cheap all-fiction American magazines from the 1900s to the 1950s. The pulp magazine began in 1896, when Frank Munsey's Argosy magazine, in order to cut costs, dropped the non-fiction articles and photographs and switched from glossy paper to the much less expensive wood pulp paper, hence the name. The pulp magazines would mainly take off as a distinct market and format in 1904, when Street & Smith learned that Popular Magazine, despite being marketed towards boys, was being consumed by men of all ages, so they increased page count and started putting popular authors on the issues.

It was specifically the 1905 reprint of H.Rider Haggard's Ayesha that not only put Street & Smith on the map as rivals to Argosy, but also inspired other companies to start publishing in the pulp format. Pulps encompassed literally everything that the authors felt like publishing. Westerns, romance, horror, sci-fi, railroad stories, war stories, war aviation stories. Zeppelins had a short-lived subgenre. Celebrities got their own magazines, it was really any genre or format they could pull off, anything they could get away with.

Nowadays, although they came quite late in it's history, the American pulps are most famous for it's "hero pulps", characters like The Shadow and Doc Savage that are viewed as a formative influence on comic book superheroes. The pulp magazines in America lasted until the 1950s, when cumulative factors such as paper shortages, diminishing audience returns and the closing of it's biggest publishers led to it dying off, although in the decades since there's always been publishers calling their magazines pulp. That's the American pulp history.

But pulps are a phenomenon that spans the entire world and has a much bigger history to it, because pulps have become synonymous with cheap fiction magazines and those have a much bigger history. In America, before the pulps, you had the dime novels, the direct predecessors of the pulps, as well as the novelettes. England had it's penny dreadfuls and story papers, and continued publishing pulp-format magazines past the American 1950s, and that's how we got Elric of Melniboné. France and Russia arguably got to it first with it's 1800s coulporters, chapbooks and particularly the feuilletons which lasted all the way to the 20th century and created characters such as Arsene Lupin, Fantomas and The Phantom of the Opera. The Germans published pulp under the name hefteromane. Japan also published pulp magazines both original as well as imported, and the current "light-novel" phenomenon started off as an equivalent of pulp magazines (it's even on the Wikipedia page). China has wuxia, Brazil has cordel, Italy has gialli. There were Indian, Persian, Ethiopian, Canadian, Australian pulps and much more. Look anywhere in the world and you'll find examples of "pulp" happening again and again, under different circumstances and time periods.

Even if we stick to American fiction, it's impossible to state that all pulp heroes must come from the 1900s-1950s pulp magazines, because that forces us to exclude some of the most popular pulp heroes like Indiana Jones, Green Hornet, Rocketeer and The Phantom. Pulp may have once been a term meant to refer to pulp magazines exclusively, but it's morphed and lost structure and it's become the closest thing we have to a general umbrella term that allows us to try and consolidate these under a shared history. It's a lot, as you can see, and it's why several pulp historians that broaden their scope outside of 1930s American fiction have adopted Roland Barthes's definition of pulp as "A Metaphor With No Brakes In It", which is still the closest thing to a true working definition we have.

Why is it important? You tell me. I don't like to stake claims about stuff being "important", everyone's got their own priorities in life. Surely a lot of people would scoff at the idea of old populist fiction published in what was functionally equivalent to toilet paper having any sort of "importance". On the other hand, some people definitely want to talk big about the pulps as a cultural bedrock of fiction, something that's baked into the lifeblood of all fiction as we currently know it. Which it is, mind you, but I don't like to talk about pulp fiction's value being derived mainly from merely the things it inspired.

There is definitely a historical importance to be had in cataloguing them. According to the US's foremost pulp researcher Jess Nevins, 38% of all American pulps no longer exist, and 14% of all American pulps survive in less than five copies. Many libraries have very scant, if any, records on them, many collectors are hard to locate and are uncooperative when it comes to sharing information and letting outsiders view their collections. A lot of them are bound up in legal complications that prevents them from taking off in the public domain, and a lot of them ARE public domain but are completely inacessible as research material. And that's the American pulps, foreign pulps have fared far worse in posterity, with records inaccessible to people unfamiliar with the language or locations, many existing merely in mentions on decades-old records, and hundreds if not thousands of them being completely gone beyond recovery or recall.

Gone, dead, wasted, destroyed. They can't be found in barbershops or warehouse or bookstores, not even in antique stores. Hundreds, thousands of characters, stories and creators, gone. Time and posterity have crushed them to dust, forgotten and ignored by their successors. Unfettered by pretenses of respectability that repressed their glossier counterparts, in packages meant to be destroyed after reading, proudly announcing itself as trash. Things that should have never even lasted as long as they did have died many times now. It's heroes peripherical shapeshifters, nearly all of whom seem dead, quite dead, as dead as fictional characters can possibly be.

But they do not die forever. Many of them have, maybe most of them have, but many of them linger on.

"The strange red flickering of 1930’s fiction seems distant now. You hold in your hand the product of a time too remote to recall, and feel a slow stir of wonder. The smell of pulp pages, an illustration, an advertisement, these fragile things mark the slow hammering of time and display what it has done. About you are today’s machines, today’s shadows.

Outside the window, leaves hang against the sky, as did leaves during the 1930’s. The sound of voices are no different then than now. You hold the magazine and feel something quite delicate slipping past. These solid forms surrounding you are all insubstantial. Time’s hammer will also pass across them, leaving little enough behind." - Spider, by Robert Sampson

Many of the things people call dead are just things that have been sleeping for a while or haven't had the chance to be born. Pulp fiction is dead on the page, inert, unless your imagination breathes live to it, and every now and then, one way or another, these characters dig themselves out of dustbins. Maybe it's a brief revival, maybe it's a successful reboot. Maybe they find publishers, or maybe the public domain allows them to find new life. Maybe new creators do interesting things with them, and maybe, just maybe, they live again because some won't shut up about them online. Some curious impulse led you to me, did it not?

We all have our Frankensteins to obsess over, and these are some of mine. As someone who's lived a life perpetually restless over pursuit of knowledge, pulp has lured me like a moth to flame, because I literally never run out of things to discover within it, I never run out of possibilities. As the years pass and the public domain starts being more and more open to the public, more and more narrative real state is brought forth for writers and artists and creators to play around.

Pulp is the dark matter of fiction, the uncatalogued depths of the ocean, the darkest recesses of space. It's the box of your grandfather's belongings, the treasure you find in an attic, a body part sticking out from an old playground. It's the things that don't work, don't succeed, the things that don't fit, that are out of place. That shouldn't live and succeed, and did so anyway. The things that slither in the cracks, the shadows behind the curtain.

Aren't you interested in peering on what's behind the curtain?

The exquisite workmanship of the head, of a pre-pyramidal age, and the hieroglyphics, symbols of a language that was forgotten when Rome was young–these, Kane sensed, were additions as modern to the antiquity of the staff itself as would be English words carved on the stone monoliths of Stonehenge.

As for the cat-head–looking at it sometimes Kane had a peculiar feeling of alteration; a faint sensing that once the pommel of the staff was carved with a different design. The dust-ancient Egyptian who had carved the head of Bast had merely altered the original figure, and what that figure had been, Kane had never tried to guess.

A close scrutiny of the staff always aroused a disquieting and almost dizzy suggestion of abysses of eons, unprovocative to further speculation. - The Footfalls Within, by Robert E Howard, quoted by Stuart Hopen’s The Mythic American Culture

#replies tag #pulp heroes #pulp fiction #argosy #h rider haggard #ayesha #robert e howard #solomon kane

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spiltscribbles · 3 years

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Oooo it’s my birthday today and I neeeeeed my sweet boys, is it too greedy if I ask for you to write something absolutely adores like you always do. I can wait there’s no rush. It would really make my day a whole lot better

~Notes: HI HI BABY!!! I’m so so fucking sorry this is like two days late 😭😭😭 I am a piece of shit and I had an idea and then I scrapped it and then I came up with this crack shit! But I included singling like you wanted!! And ILU endlessly!!! I hope your birthday was at least filled with sunlight and friends and all the adoration you deserve🎉🎉🎂🥳🎈🎈🎈🎊🎊🥳🎁. And I hope this isn’t a shitty gift!😭😭

Send Me A Prompt<3 | A Reblog is like a hug!!!!

The 4 Times People Suspected About Remus and Sirius, and The One Time They Called It By Name

~I~

Peter notices it first.

He doesn’t know quite what it is, or what it means— Peter doesn’t understand what it entails when he’s watching the way Sirius gently thumbs at a high patch on Remus’s cheek while he’s sleeping on the hospital bed after the first full moon of fourth year, a fraught look in his stormy eyes. Or how Remus’s gaze always search Sirius out first after he’s made a wry comment in the expense of the Slytherins, going alight with the other boy’s laughter. Peter doesn’t comprehend the way it sometimes seems like he’s caught in some sort of static— a negative space that makes him feel out of bounds— when he’s alone with only the pair of them. When they’re all huddled around the common area or their dormitory while James is probably skulking in search of Lily Evans or cajoling the other chasers to have another lap around the court. With Remus lounging on his fourposter, or the sofa, reading one of the infinite books he’s got tucked away in his trunk, and Sirius is quietly sat by his feet, toying with a non-magical contraption he’s found in Muggle London after sneaking out from his ancestral home while his folks were having a row. And Peter is ordinarily just fiddling with a scroll he has to finish for one of the tougher courses from a bit away, intermittently glancing at them side long, just waiting for an excuse to leave the suffocating ambiance that feels like it’s been fitted for just the pair of them and not another soul.

But the most peculiar part about all of this is that Peter is accustomed to feeling like the spare, the cast off who’s clinging to the glimmering forms that are James and Sirius, and their ravenous appetite for any and all attention that’s given over because that’s the sort of boys they are— affluent and prominent and radiating with a sort of spark that’s all there own— the sort of boys that others find doubtless that they are something miraculous. But when Peter’s around just the pair of them, in the corner of the galaxy that the marauders have carved for them to rule like kings— It never feels quite so stilted, so weighty. Sirius and James have a gift of making everyone in the room feel like they’re in on the joke, that they could be showered with that same granger just as long as they play in the tableau. Remus and Sirius together feels the contrary of that, like there’s something pregnant lying between them, waiting to pounce. Like there’s an understanding that no one else gets to glimpse at, and no one else should try. An understanding that’s personal and private and crackling with an energy that is far beyond anything between mere friends, beyond anything Peter could fathom with all his fifteen years.

Idly, over supper after an entire two hours being stuck between that strange tension simmering beneath the surface of Remus and Sirius, Peter wonders for the umpteenth time on whether he should ask James about this development in their small brotherhood, should ask him if he’s detected the difference there. And if he has, Peter will listen to James’s plan to ensure this doesn’t ruin anything. How whatever is brewing under the surface won’t absolutely ruin them.

But then, from the corner of his eye, Peter sees Sirius— none to gently— piling Remus’s plate with an abundance of the potatoes that Moony likes best, dipping down to whisper something in his ear— something surely lecherous— before tousling his curls in that brash, bombastic way of his that he does with Peter and James too, even if he ends it by gingerly cupping the nape of Remus’s neck with a surreptitious squeeze that ends just as quickly as it began, falling back into conversation with James and Marlene about the Wasps’s chances against the Harpies this Friday night as if it was just an innate action, even if it’s one Peter’s only ever witnessed him doing to Remus.

And even though there’s another full in two days, and even though Remus looks like a walking inferi— pale faced and exhausted posture and circles the color of midnight smudged beneath his eyes— Peter watches the ends of his lips quirk up into the best approximation of a smile Peter’s ever seen on him so close to the wolf breaking through the surface of his body that’s all skin and bones, and he isn’t sure if it’s a trick of the light or not, but Remus actually looks like he might be glowing over the strange attention that Sirius’s only ever paid to him.

So no… No, Peter doesn’t think he’ll ask James quite yet, reckons that if anything can help his moon plagued friend, that it must be something good, something that shouldn’t be tempered with.

They can figure out how the strange string pulling Remus and Sirius together will alter their brotherhood later on, there’s still time. There’ still a possibility that it won’t devastate everything.

~II~

Lily’s suspected for a while.

The thing is that she’s known about Remus since the end of third year, when he rebuffed the advances of an eager Heleen Abed, and Lily found him on the ledge of the largest window in the vacant common room— the same one that they regularly commandeer with Mary McDonald to discuss the finer points of Muggle politics and current events, separate from the melting pot of their Gryffindor class that’s composed of either pure bloods or those with their closest Muggle relative being a long dead grandparent. And it was definitely a dangerous, knife’s edge she was playing at, but Lily had sat besides the boy who she’s cultivated a real and true friendship with— one beyond pleasant platitudes and fodder about their course work— and she told him about her cousin Joey with green spiked hair and a mischievous smile adorned with a sparkling stud and how she and Petunia had caught him holding hands with one of his friends from sixth-form in the garden of her Aunt’s cottage, and how even the sneer on her older sisters lips hadn’t deterred Lily from thinking anything but mild indifference about the situation. Only wanting her cousin to always live in that easy effervescence she’s always known when it came to him.

And nothing else was exchanged between them, but Remus had grinned in that barely perceptible way of his, and Lily had nudged his shoulder with her own and then fished out her final handful of chocolate frogs for them to share while they revise their notes for the transfiguration exam coming up.

Two summers have past since then—they’re in the midst of their final term of fifth year now— and she thinks that they’ve become even closer, that the frequent late nights in the library for their impending OWLs and their countless prefect rounds has helped forge a real and true bond— especially that whole snag earlier in the year when they had realized they were both snogging Leon Bennett on alternating nights behind greenhouse three. But all of that withstanding, Lily knows that there are still secrets Remus keeps tight to his chest, ones that Lily’s analytical mind— the mind of a potions expert and future healer— has suspected to do with the thin, silvery scars running down his strong hands that are all tapered fingers and slender wrists, and another across his right bicep that she saw when he had changed his robes for a jumper in front of her, and the one cutting down from the bottom of his ear and nearly across the entire length of his neck, ending at the corner of his sharp collarbone. But Lily suspects he’ll tell her about that soon enough, what she isn’t so confident about is him admitting that particularly dazed look he gets when around Black, of all people. The way he stammers his words occasionally and the way he worries on his bottom lip while averting his glance when Sirius is chatting up a very pleased looking girl, and the way he flushes when Lily is ribbing about him in particular. And Lily knows that the foursome of Gryffindor boys had a falling out of sorts before winter hols, that there’s a hairline fracture between them and Remus now— one that she’s sure no one else can pick up on after the way they had seemingly come back together in late January, right before her birthday funnily enough. But Lily’s always been the analytical sort— the sort to absorb the barebones of a situation so she could conjure a hypothesis that she could prove after careful study.

So Lily knows that it’s something deeper, and she can see how Remus is reticent around them in ways she’s actually worried won’t be shaken off anytime soon— which is all levels of bazaar considering she’s been telling Remus for years that he needs to shrug off his rowdy mates like a snake shedding an old coat. But before, when she’d barb as much he’d only stick out his tongue and tell her what happens to busybodies, and how she doesn’t really know them at all. But now days, he just looks particularly hurt, and more than a bit put out, and Lily catches him flickering over to wherever Sirius was holding court, longing in a way she couldn’t possibly articulate out loud.

Honestly Lily thinks it’s really quite gracious of her to have dropped the subject completely, rather, she takes up the mantel of his friend that can distract him from all those sorts of woes, biting her tongue over his lingering feelings for Sirius that are more than likely far beyond a passing fancy. And she thinks that maybe that’s a good call, maybe it’s good for Remus to beat down those sorts of emotions that he’s harboring for the wanker. She knows Remus, and she knows he wouldn’t hold a grudge— even such a quiet one— for no reason at all. Besides, she doesn’t really think it’s her place to tell him how when he’s glancing away, Sirius is holding vigil to him with that same sort of fervor. That Sirius is the one who collects the notes for all his classes on those conspicuous absences of his when Remus is feeling poorly in the infirmary. That Sirius occasionally looks so very gutted when Remus is wilting away from them, when he seeks Lily’s company instead.

She has a heavy suspicion that Remus might already know all of those things— that maybe they’ve already discussed it at length, that maybe the falling out in December has caused a full stop of anything that could’ve potentially blossomed between them. And she just wishes she knew the entire story so she could decide on whether she should be jinxing Black’s face to a putrid orange color, or pushing Remus to actually give him a chance.

Lily just wishes she could read Black as easily as she can Remus, maybe that would help in this experiment she’s testing, because for now she’s just confused as all hell over what exactly Black feels towards him. Well that is until it’s a fortnight before Remus’s birthday, and she’s being bodily dragged into a closet on her way to charms.

“Oi— What the bloody—“

“Language, Evans,” the annoyingly familiar baritone of Sirius Black tsks, lighting up the cupboard with his wand and smirking in that jagged way she’s heard countless girls tittering over, and the one that makes her want to pop him one right against his ridiculously smug face.

“Black,” she says, caustic as all get out with her fists clenched against her sides and her brows making a really resilient effort to meet in the middle. “You’ve got thirty seconds before I hex your bollocks off.”

“Pff, and Jamie thinks you’re some sort of saint.”

“Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven. Twenty-six.”

Sirius pulls a face at her, but must understand the credence in the words, because it’s not another moment more before he pulls out a bedraggled looking slip of paper from his robe’s pocket, and thrusts it at her face. So with an indignant huff, Lily opens it up and begins scanning the words— becoming all the more confused when she sees measurements and things like coco powder and melted butter, instead of whatever the hell else she was preparing herself to read.

“I’m being pranked, aren’t I? You’re trying to distract me so you and Potter can do something horrid to the Slytherin’s common room.”

“We’ve actually already done that today,” Sirius jeers, raising up his hands in concession with a cluck of the tongue at her scowling face. “’s from Moony’s mum, all right. I asked her to send me the recipe of this chocolate cake she use to make him for his birthdays before Hogwarts— I just thought… It might be nice is all, and you can sod right off if you look at me like that, Evans, with the soft eyes and all that rot. Are you going to help me or not?”

Lily resolutely ignores the pang to her heart, because God, this really is such a sweet gesture. “And what? you thought I could help you because I’m a bird?” She asks in the most scolding inflection she could muster in the face of this incredibly soppy gift he wants to give Remus.

“None of that, blimey, Evans.” Sirius snarls, obviously diffident, and combined with the faint flush to his cheeks, Lily suddenly realizes why he’s considered one of the best looking blokes in the entirety of their school. “There’s a whole load of Muggle mumbo jumbo, so it was between asking you, or McDonald, and I adore Mary and all, but she has got such a mouth on her.”

“You should know,” Lily counters with a leer. “She couldn’t stop going on about your date back in October.”

Sirius’s brows hike, and he actually smiles at her— one that’s vacant from all his bravado from his upbringing in his pretentious, pure blood home, and one that isn’t trying to show off. And Lily can’t help but favoringly liken him to an excited pug. “Oh you’re wicked, Evans!” He shrills delightedly. “Oh this is great, you’re just as depraved as Remus, are all prefects like this?”

Lily snorts, shaking her head at him, indulgent. “Never mind that, Black. Most of this stuff can be found in the kitchens below, I’m sure the house elves won’t mind us borrowing anything.”

“And the ingredients that won’t be down their?” He asks worriedly.

“Well, good on you planning this so far ahead of time, we’ll just have to experiment.”

Sirius groans in retort, muttering things about Muggle potions and James thinking he’s getting off with his future wife and other ridiculous things that Lily doesn’t bother to stay and listen to. Though, when Remus’s birthday does roll around, and she sees his countenance go a thousand shades brighter as he bites into the pudding, and Sirius’s grin stretch just that much more across his face in response— their eyes meeting across the room and past the crowds— Well Lily suspects Sirius never really minded any of the things he was whinging on about, not at all, not as long as the result was a beaming Remus.

~III~

Regulus hears about it in the halls.

He’s not much for gossip or that sort of dribble, doesn’t have much patience for anyone outside his house if he’s being at all frank— and even then, it’s not as if he doesn’t frequently find himself escaping to his fourposter for a moment’s quiet. It seems that everyone in this bloody castle are just dimwitted, daft idiots, and Regulus’s never been the sort to offer allowances for that kind of behavior. He’s been raised in the home of a family as close to royalty as Wizards permit, a prince among men. And he was told that he should have patience for the dull folks beneath him, just as long as they have the correct ideals, but sometimes he can’t help but wish they would all just let him be, sometimes feels like he’s being carted around Hogwarts as the perfect pure blood, like he was nine years old again and being shown off in the parlor of his home when guests came to call, watching from the sidelines while his mother rave about how splendid of an heir Sirius is turning out to be. How his tutor calls him a genius for any age, and how darling he looks in Slytherin green, and how he’s already mastered three romance languages to help in his spell work.

And Regulus can’t help but scoff at those contemplations now, thinking of the past summer when his dramatic and brash brother had made a whole production of leaving behind the values that gave him everything he has. How he escaped to that Potter git’s home the way he’s been doing for nearly every holiday since his second year, how he offered Regulus to come along as if he’s a trader just like him. What a risible excuse for an heir.

But Regulus won’t commit such follies, he’ll make his parents proud— even if his father is nearly never paying much mind and his mother goes from raving to sickly in a blink of an eye. It doesn’t matter, because he’ll carry on the Black legacy, something that his oh so perfect brother never could’ve done. Regulus is only a fifth year, will be turning sixteen in only two months after Sirius’s coming of age, and sure, this might mean he’s still young enough that the Death Eaters don’t find him adequate to fight on the line of fire, but he’ll do it eventually, feels the weight of the letter from Bellatrix praising him for as much resting heavy in his pocket. And if Regulus finds them all a bit too vicious or a bit too excitable and completely lacking a deft hand to make the changes they’re searching for, he shrugs it off. He knows what he must do, and as he stares at his brother from across the valley cusping the lake, he’s only that much more steadfast in the conviction of the fact.

Sirius is sitting and laughing with a group of his Gryffindor mates, the mudbloods, and blood traders that had warped him from the brother he knew to the stranger he is now. And there’s a dark skinned Ravenclaw bird— Meadowes if he remembers correctly from his prefect meetings— and she’s telling some sort of long winded tail with hand gestures and loud cackling coming from the group as she goes on. And Sirius is tossing around a quaffle with Potter— the glint of a handsome, silver watch on his wrist catching in the dying sunlight. And Regulus wonders who had gifted him such a personal passage to adulthood, but is soon distracted by spotting the way Sirius nearly gets smacked in the face with the ball because he was too busy gawking over at Lupin in such a stripped down, cautious way that it makes Regulus squirm.

He doesn’t know much about the elder Prefect, only that his name had come up nearly as much as Potters during that first year when Sirius would send him correspondence on a frequent basis because he knew how lonely Regulus would get while stuck in Grimmauld all by himself. And then when he began attending Hogwarts, Regulus never could get a good reading on him. He knew Potter because of how his family is infamous for their liberal views and nouveau riche attitudes, and Pettigrews family owns a hokey herb shop in Diagon. All he’s found out about the Lupins is that his father is the son of half-bloods and his mother is a Muggle, and that this mudblood is a reserved, carefully aloof bugger, and that somehow he’s seemingly captured all of Sirius’s attentions that he’s not giving Potter or the clinger ons who follow him around like mindless fools. Beyond that, Lupin and Regulus have only traded a hand full of words whenever their roles of prefects would force them to intermingle, and it’s always been punctuated by Lupin giving Regulus a witheringly cold look anytime they were in close proximity, which is admittedly impressive considering that half the time the sickly bastard looks like he’s about ready to keel over.

So no, Regulus doesn’t know much about him, but he’s heard the rumors. He knows that it’s basically an open secret between the Gryffindor class and selected friends. The fact that his brother is probably shagging the mudblood, convincing Regulus that Sirius really has never given a toss about the decorum and standards befalling them as the only two Black males of their generation. And he hates his brother so scathingly right then, hates his little munblood lover probably even more.

And when he watches Lupin straying his gaze from the novel he was reading while that red haired Muggle born was resting her head in his lap, and Regulus saw the way both of their expressions went a peculiar sort of tender— well that’s the last straw, so he stands up in a huff— so unlike himself— and he cuts the story Mulciber was crowing on about, and he tells them he needs to complete a scroll for Slughorn.

And while he prowls away from the sight of his brother continuing to ruin everything, Regulus plunges a hand into his pocket, and crunches Bellatrix’s letter in his grasp, promises himself to write her back soon, and ignores the ache in his chest that’s only been growing larger since Sirius had left permanently.

~IV~

James’s always known.

Perhaps that’s an over reach, but it’s true enough. He’s known for years, on some level, that the thing between Sirius and Remus is something completely foreign to him. Something completely separate from how Sirius licks his face when James is over sleeping and he wants to be a general nuisance. Separate from how he and Remus have begun discussing anything and everything in the wee hours of the morning, with a spot of tea between them and a blanket on their legs, because Remus can’t sleep from the moon and James has never been able to sleep through the whole night without feeling guilty over it. He thinks it stemmed from when he was younger, when his parents were feeling sickly, and before they were gifted a house elf by a family friend who recognized that the elderly Potters needed just a bit more assistance.

James never knew whether it was obvious to him because he’s always considered Sirius as his bastard brother since Christmas of first year, and that he’s always trying to make sure that Remus is all right after finding out just how impressively the bloke can keep secrets once Sirius figured out his furry little problem. So he’s not sure what others know, or even what Remus and Sirius know of what’s happening between them, honestly, there have been so many almosts that James has picked up on over the years. And he still shutters thinking about the near total break that happened with the prank, still isn’t quite sure what had past between them to get Sirius and Remus speaking with each other once more, but he does know that Remus staying with James, Sirius, and Peter the past summer after Sirius escaping the twisted place he was suppose to call a home, is what helped indefinitely. And now, a year separate from the prank, things finally feel normal between them.

Well— Erm, not normal per se. Those idiots are still blustering and bumbling and bashfully avoiding one another when anything close to romantic comes up in a discussion or when their hands touch over the Great Hall table or whenever James makes a pointed remark when he catches one of them staring a bit too slack jawed at the other in the midst of something totally bloody innocuous in the eyes of a normal person— EG: Sirius gathering his hair— that’s nearly to the bottom of his neck now a days— into a small knot on the back of his head, or Remus sucking idly on a sugar quill while he’s revising. And sure, James has to deal with the kicks at his ankles, or a spare jinx if one of them is especially pissy, but Lily’s come to join him in the ribbing, so it kind of makes everything all right. Especially when she levels her beautiful, forrest green eyes with his own brown ones, and she actually looks sort of endeared.

Yeah— that’s a fucking amazing feeling all right, and it’s probably the memory of that happening only a few hours ago that has got James all jittery now, far past midnight. So with a tired sigh, he slides open the drapes of his fourposter, is ready to go downstairs for a kitchen raid if Remus isn’t awake— Though once he sets his glasses on, and blinks a few times over to get acclimated with the dark, he’s only a bit stunned to find the shapes of Remus and Sirius crowded on the former’s bed— and they’re really not much more than suggestions beneath the shadows, but it’s enough for James to see Sirius’s head bent low, resting it against the crook of Moony’s neck and shoulder, while the shorter boy has got his arms wrapped around Sirius’s torso. And it’s nothing obscene, not really— it’s not like they’re nude or anything— but Sirius is shirtless, and Remus does have this blissed out expression painted over his features, that James would bet good money is the same one Sirius has got on if most of his face wasn’t covered by his hair.

And in another breath, Remus’s honey colored eyes flap open, widening exponentially when he catches sight of James, and wiggling around as if he wants to move away from Sirius completely, which is of course stunted when Sirius makes a low noise under his breath, and presses closer so that his mouth is quite literally right against Remus’s neck, and his arms tug him closer.

And James is definitely convinced that he’s the best mate any bloke could ask for when instead of chuckling at the obvious show of territorialism, he just shakes his head indulgently at them, mouthing an “About time plonker,” to Remus, who replies in kind with a hefty, two fingered salute.

This time James has to bite down to prevent his chuckle from spilling out.

“And here I was, about to offer you a snack from our dear house elves.” He whispers, hopefully quiet enough so that only Remus could hear.

“Oh, just bugger off,” Remus retorts, smiling with such mirth that James can’t even feign to be affronted over it, only follows the playful command and tries figuring out just how to give the ‘If you hurt him I’ll hurt you’ talk to the pair of them without it coming across insincerely.

~+I~

Millie was bored until she saw them.

The only reason why Millie got this boring job in this beyond posh restaurant is because her folks reckon that she needs to learn some form of responsibility before university, and she hates it. The pay is absolute shite, and most of her coworkers are all levels of boring, and the patrons are not nearly entertaining enough to try and make up some secret back story of tumultuous affairs or secret agents from the MI6, or a royal from some country on the continent meeting their star-crossed lover.

It’s all just painfully ordinary, and she’s cursing her parents while she chomps on her gum, reading some stupid note by an ugly old fart who left her his number on the receipt.

Scoffing while she bins it, Millie glances over to the newly occupied table in her section, heart immediately leaping once she gets a good look at the pair of blokes sitting down.

The sandy haired one is definitely cute in that reserved way her best friend Claire would definitely be mad over— the guy who could read you poetry in French or Italian and then gently kisses the back of your hand. And that’s all and well, but Millie’s every attention is laser focussed on his mate, the one that looks like he can be bloody James Bond with those smoldering eyes and that ink black hair, and God, those cheekbones! Definitely one of those beautiful, Public school boys who’s born and bread by the patrician. And while she takes their orders, she tosses him her most flattering of grins and slips in her giggle that an ex boyfriend compared to silver bells, and is sure to flip her long, chestnut hair enough times so he’d notice, even if she’s pretty sure he’s either pissed or probably more than a bit stoned. (Truly, where the bloody hell would he come up with pumpkin juice? How horrid must that taste).

Millie may or may not spend an unreasonable amount of time spying at them from where the cooks drop off the completed plates to be sent away. He’s just so bloody good looking, and she can’t believe this awful job has finally brought her such an amazing distraction, and the arse doesn’t even pay her much mind, leaving the ordering and the conversing to his fair haired friend.

Maybe he’s sensitive, she thinks to herself. Maybe he’s just a shy soul. And yes, that must be it! The poor, beautiful sod. She’s sure to make her intentions clear next time she thinks it’s appropriate to top off their waters, because she’s so very gracious like that.

“Enjoying yourselves?” Millie asks in her most light hearted of cadences, filling up the shorter one’s glass but smiling fully and exclusively to the boy who looks like he should be starring in some sort of Brook’s Brothers advert.

“Ta,” the sandy haired boy says, sounding a bit amused at her dilemma, but it’s kind enough so Millie doesn’t feel brassed off over it. “Do you mind pointing me to the loo?”

“Oh of course!” She crows, suddenly ecstatic as she directs him, finally getting a chance to be alone with the model. Though when she turns her attention to him once the other one leaves to take a leak, she’s kind of confused how he’s staring after him with a glance she vividly remembers on the face of her ex whenever she’d peer back around to ensure he was watching her go— Though, if Millie’s being honest, the model somehow looks simultaneously eager to watch the back of him, but also already disheartened not to have him around in ways she doubts anyone she’s ever gone out with has ever exhibited. “He’s a nice chap,” she states, instead of marinating on the strangeness of this development.

The practical model starts, seems to have forgotten about her presence all together, but then he glances over towards her with those impossibly flattering, pale gray eyes, and he nods disinterestedly. And yeah, yikes. That is a total hit to Millie’s ego.

“Ahem,” she clears her throat, begins twisting her free hand into the material of her apron. “’S nice you guys came for dinner, you don’t see much friends considering how bloody expensive it is here, hah.”

Millie feels herself going absolutely scarlet at the impassive way he drags his gaze up and down her form before taking a swig of his Bellini. “He’s not my friend.”

“Oh,” Millie practically squeaks out, suddenly wonders if maybe he’s a tutor from his class or something? Maybe the model is just taking the cute one out to dinner as a thanks for helping him pass his A-levels? Maybe this is considered cheap in the circles that the model keeps.

“’S our one year anniversary actually,” he tells her, still in that methodical, blasé way of his. And oh. Oh wow! Suddenly everything is snapping into clarity.

The way the two boys had brushed the back of their hands before being seated, how model had trusted the other boy to order for him, how model never looked away from the cute one’s mouth or collarbones or hands as they spoke. How whenever she came around to ask if they needed anything else, it felt like she was intruding on more than just a couple of mates catching up.

Oh Jesus, she feels like such an idiot, and Millie tells the model just as much.

“I’m sorry, I’m an idiot! I didn’t even put it together.”

Remarkably, the model’s rigid posture goes a bit loose at her apology, and the corner of his thin lips quirk up into a grin. “’S fine, he didn’t want to make a fuss out of it, but yeah— Just feels good telling someone.”

Millie nods eagerly, she can’t understand exactly what he means, obviously not, but she can definitely try to, and if it feels good for him to tell a random bird about something so important, then she’s more than happy to help. “Well the point stands, yeah? He seems like a good sort, you’re lucky to have found each other.”

The model’s grin goes elastic at that, and he looks actually approachable for the first time tonight. “I’m the luckiest bloke in the world that I get to be with him.”

Millie flushes at the intensity embedded into his statement, but thankfully doesn’t have to answer when she hears the sandy haired boy walking closer now, smiling so brightly that there’s a dimple popping up on the apple of his cheek that Millie’s only just noticed— The mirth is a good color on him, she reckons. Makes him look as gorgeous as those boys on the telly dramas her Mum is always gushing about, even his eyes turn more golden than light brown. “You pestering our waitress Padfoot?”

“You know I keep my devilish tongue for you and you alone Moonbeam,” the model—Padfoot cannot be his actual name for heaven’s sake— retorts.

“Lucky me,” the sandy haired boy says wryly as he takes a seat, and while Millie walks away— intending to get them a pudding that’s on the house to celebrate the milestone of their relationship— she peers back around only once and it’s enough to see the tips of their fingers kissing across the table, and their smiles looking like a secret language not meant for anyone else to read.

My Full Wolfstar FIC Masterlist💜

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #REMUSXSIRIUS #SIRIUSXREMUS #HARRY POTTER SERIES #MARAUDERS #Spilt Ink #I'm sorry if you hate this sugarplum #Like legit #idk what I am on #JFC #I suck #flksadjgaklsgjoewiajfsg

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malfoymania · 3 years

Text

LOYALTIES | 2 | D.M

masterlist

CHAPTER TWO

LILY KINGSLEY

"Are you going to come and do the next charms essay with us?" Hermione asks me as we leave our last lesson.

"She wishes. She's got detention with Malfoy" Ron smirks. Harry's standing next to him trying to suppress a giggle, but fails. I groan and throw my head back.

Hermione is quick to shut him up, smacking him with her potions book. "Ronald be quiet, or I'll find a way for you to join them."

Both boys raise their eyebrows and quickly stop their sniggering.

"I'll join you guys later. Wish me luck." They all shoot me sympathetic looks before I turn and head to Flitwick's room.

As I walk, I can't help but rewatch the events that played out earlier in my head.

"Oi, Potter! Who did you have to suck off in the Ministry to let you walk free then?"

Harry, Hermione and I are walking towards the great hall for breakfast when we hear the one voice it's too early to deal with.

"Fuck off Malfoy." Harry responds, still walking trying to not acknowledge his presence.

"I expect there's a cell in Azkaban with your name on it."

I can normally take it when Malfoy has something to say about me, but I can't stand when he has something bad to say about my friends. I turn on my heel and stomp up to the boy and he stops in his tracks.

"Will you fucking stop talking for once? Literally no one wants to hear what you have to say."

I try to stand tall against him, but he always seems to have grown every time we have an altercation.

He sucks in a breath and his mates laugh and do the same. I give them a glare and even though they'd never admit it, they had a look of fear in their eyes. As they should.

"I don't recall anyone asking for your opinion Kingsley." Malfoy folds his arms and tilts his head to the side. He's trying to mock me.

"Well have it. Maybe fucking learn from it too." I spit back, his eyes lighting up at the response he's getting.

"Bite me Kingsley" he smirks, leaning forward trying to intimidate me. Just you fucking wait.

"Come on Lily, don't waste your breath on him" Harry mumbles, taking my hand ready to pull me away.

"Go on off you go, back to the house we'd all rather you be in."

That's when I snap. I lurch forward ready to grab Malfoy by the collar, but Harry grabs me and holds me back before I can. I'm struggling in Harry's grip when the blonde stumbles back in shock, bumping into Professor McGonagall as she is walking past.

"You two, my office. Now."

I lean back against the cold brick wall that's just outside of Flitwicks room. I'm tired, hungry, and sick of wearing uniform and detention with Malfoy is not going to help.

"Kingsley. We meet again."

I slowly open my eyes and see the smirking blonde i've been dreading since first period.

"Don't talk to me Malfoy." I stand up slightly taller, not wanting him to see that I'm tired. If he knows i'm tired, he'll think i'm weak. If he thinks i'm weak, he'll taunt me more.

He chuckles slightly as Flitwick opens his door. The professor has boxes in his arms filled with books.

"Come in you two. I need to go and run these back to the library, so I'm hoping I can trust you both to carry on from where you left off reading this morning?"

We both nod and head into the classroom. I take a seat in the far left corner trying to keep my distance from Malfoy. He follows me and sits on the table next to mine, obviously. If he can find a way to piss me off he will.

"There's at least 30 chairs in this classroom. Why would you chose the one closest to mine?" I snarl, pulling out my book.

"I thought we weren't talking."

His quick response angers me. Purely because he didn't answer me, it was quick thinking and now I can't think of a response.

I scoff and try to ignore the fact that he just took a small win by having the last word. At least this might mean he stays quiet for the hour that's ahead of us.

"You're pretty feisty by the way Kingsley. I actually thought you were going to lamp me one earlier."

Oh here we go.

I don't look at him, but I can feel his stare burning into me. It feels really weird it just being him and not having the rest of his crew lingering behind. He's alone and still an asshole. There's no hope for some people.

"Yeah? Well I would have if Harry didn't hold me back."

"Sure." I hear the creak of his chair, indicating that he's leaning back in it. I don't move my head but I move my eyes to see that his feet are resting up on the table.

"Don't fool yourself Malfoy, you nearly shit yourself when you thought I was going to."

"Nah, I actually thought it was kinda hot."

My head snaps up and I look at him for the first time since we entered the room. His hair is resting against his eyebrows, floppy and messy. He looks so at ease. Cocky. Me on the other hand am getting increasingly hot and red. A mess.

"I beg your pardon?"

"What Kingsley? Can't take a compliment?" He pushes the gum he's chewing on against his cheek and bites his tongue, adding to the cheeky demeanour that I hate so much.

"Not from you, no."

"Why not?"

"You're horrible Draco. Nice things don't come out of your mouth."

He smiles when I say that. More sincere than before. "What?" I snap. I'm trying to stay cool but it's not working. I'm not sure if my heartbeat is quickening or has stopped completely, but either way I don't like it.

"I've never heard you call me Draco before." He says with a slight softness unlike before.

My head spins slightly. I run a hand through my hair whilst trying to ignore the flutter that I just felt in my stomach.

"Well it's your name isn't it?"

He doesn't respond this time, he just looks at me before pulling out his book and turning to the right page. I look back down at the parchment in front of me, but I'm reading the same line over and over again whilst my head keeps replaying what just happened. The silence in the room is quite frankly making me feel sick.

I don't dare look up for the rest of the detention. Flitwick arrived back into the room a few moments after the painful silence fell between Draco and I, meaning he couldn't say anything else to make me sweat profusely or blunder up my words.

By the time it turns 6pm, we're both dismissed. I take as long as I can to put my book in my bag, leaving enough time for Draco to leave the room before me. Once I hear his footsteps fade into the corridor I head to to door too. The whole hour that I was supposed to be reading, not one word actually processed in my head. All I could hear was Draco calling me hot. To say it was disturbing is an understatement.

"That was fun."

I let out a yelp as a tall figure emerges from next to the classroom door. It's Malfoy.

"Merlin! Don't do that Malfoy." I seethe, trying to catch my cool again whilst tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. I hear him chuckle which infuriates me even more, but I ignore him and carry on walking trying to follow McGonagall's advice.

"Oh come one Kingsley! Was I not good company?" He asks, following me down the corridor.

"No you were not. Now leave me alone." I spit.

"Wait Kingsley, hang on" Malfoy's hand lightly grabs ahold of my shoulder making me stop in my tracks. His eyes are looking directly into mine. They're holding less cheek than before; now they're softer- warmer, even.

Before he gets chance to continue, Goyle and Blaise call for the blonde haired boy from down the corridor. The look that was in his eyes only moments ago disappears and now hold pure ice and darkness.

"It wasn't hot, it was psycho behaviour. Don't try and threaten me again" he growls lowly, but loud enough for the two boys to hear as they approach.

"How was detention with with Slytherdor?" Goyle asks, mock dripping from his words.

"Horrendous. I can't even bare the thought of spending anymore time with her." Draco mumbles whilst turning away from me. The persona he was acting out right now was not what I had just witnessed in detention, and i'm not sure which confused me more; the way he was acting in Flitwicks classroom, or how quickly he was able to switch to the Malfoy we all know and definitely don't love.

In any other situation I'd be able to fire a witty remark back, but in the current moment i'm in too much shock and confusion of what just happened to even think about fabricating a response. Instead i'm left standing there speechless watching the three boys pace away, with Draco's peculiar gesture burning into my skin.

please like, comment and reblog ♡

#draco x reader #draco imagine #draco x you #draco smut #draco malfoy imagine #dracotok #draco #draco malfoy #tom felton imagine #tom felton #harry potter

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dsoe-masteroftheheavenlyyard · 4 years

Text

Chapter 2–Hunt for the Deadly Sins; Scene 3

master of the heavenly yard pages 18-28

It was currently nighttime, and there were no artificial lights anywhere in the desolate field they could rely on.

Even so, as there were no buildings to block the light of the moon it actually wasn’t all that hard to see.

--Just as Allen had been when he first came here, Nemesis seemed unable to believe the scenery before her.

“How…could this be? The Millennium Tree Forest was destroyed along with the rest of the world—no, it was burned down even earlier than that. So how…”

The trees were flourishing in abundance.

As though they had never been destroyed at all.

It was undoubtedly strange, considering everything they had seen up to arriving here was wasteland.

“There’s no cause for finding it so unusual, Nemesis. To put it in layman’s terms…These exist here under the same principles as that clinic did.”

Nemesis seemed to immediately understand when she heard Allen’s explanation

“The specialty clinic in the illusory Moscow that Levia Barisol created…I see. Thoughts can materialize in the Hellish Yard…In other words this too is an illusion created by souls—"

“You catch on quick. Not that I’d expect any less from the original ‘Master of the Hellish Yard’.”

“My…so you know that much, do you?”

Allen pointed up to the moon in the sky.

“I studied everything about this world inside the ‘Blackbox’ up there. So I understand most of what’s going on.”

“You studied ‘everything’ but you only understand ‘most’ of it?”

“I’m not as smart as you. That, and there are some things I couldn’t study with the black box.”

“Such as?”

“The gods call this world the ‘Third Period’. The black box taught me about events that occurred there. But…I wasn’t able to get much information on the world before, the ‘Second Period’ where the gods lived.”

“Assuming it was Sickle who created that ‘Blackbox’…That information was probably left out on purpose. Well, it sounds like something she’d do, anyway.”

“…?” Allen made a curious expression. “Is Sickle—a girl?”

“By my reconning at least.”

“I see…I always thought he was male. Well, at any rate, you would know more about the ‘Second Period’ than me.”

“And that’s why you brought me along on your journey.”

“There is that, and I also was wanting to borrow the connections you’ve built up over your long life. There’s a lot of souls on the ground world now that lived in the past. Naturally, a lot of them are people I’ve never met.” Allen looked back to the forest before them. “For example, the spirits that live in this forest. I didn’t even know they existed back when I was alive. However…That’s not the case with you.”

“The spirits—are still residing here in the forest?”

“Yeah. This forest itself was something they conjured up.”

Nemesis reached out to put a hand on a nearby tree branch.

Despite it being an illusion, she was able to touch it. It felt peculiarly rough…It certainly “existed”, but it gave across a somewhat strange sensation that felt unstable to her.

She noticed something moving at the edges of her vision, and turned toward it. A single fox was gazing at her, but the moment Nemesis saw it, it quickly hid itself in the shadow of the tree.

Phaser…

Nemesis remembered that fox’s name. She was certain it was one of the spirits that lived in the forest—or would it be more accurate to say “people”?

Whichever it was, she knew this one to have an affable personality. That they refused to come near in spite of that must be because she was in this form, Nemesis thought to herself.

I am…the one responsible for destroying the forest, after all.

Nemesis turned back to Allen.

“Is Michaela coming back here?”

Allen shook his head.

“If she’d intended to do so, she would have come along with us.”

“That’s true. So this forest is currently—”

“Being managed not by Michaela, but a proxy.”

In that next moment, they could hear someone’s voice from above their heads.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit harsh to treat me as a mere ‘proxy’, Allen?”

A single blue bird flew above them. It was the bird that had spoken just then.

“That voice, and that manner of speaking…Professor Held!?”

Nemesis’ eyes widened.

“If you’re calling me ‘Professor’, then…Your memory has come back.”

“Yeah, it’s all returned, thank you…Why do you look like that?”

“Various reasons. By all rights I was unable to materialize on the ground world due to my restrictions. As a result of tirelessly endeavoring to slip through a loophole in those rules, I wound up as this bluebird.” Held selected a branch on one of the trees and landed there. “By the way…What is it I ought to call you?”

“Nemesis is fine.”

“I see. Then, dictator Nemesis—you’re guilty of quite the horrendous deed, aren’t you? The reckless act of firing the weapon of mass destruction ‘Punishment’ at the world and bringing it to an end.”

Nemesis felt no fear at Held’s grave words.

“I don’t feel like apologizing for it. As you well know, that was my goal from the very start. You and Hazuki laid all sorts of groundwork to avoid it, but it looks like it that was all in vain.”

“You wished not for ‘management’ but ‘destruction’…So, as we feared, your mind was already infected with ‘malice’.”

“So what if it was? If you want to kill me you’re welcome to do so.”

“I have no intention of holding you responsible for that now. That wouldn’t bring the world back. …And besides, I’ve come to be increasingly less certain as I’ve watched you, Seth, and that girl Irina—all of you who have been reduced to ‘HER’s.”

“Less certain of what?”

“—Just what in the world ‘evil’ is.”

Nemesis was wordless for a moment at such an abstract question.

Allen silently listened to the two of them speak from the side. He wasn’t boorish enough to cut into an exchange between “gods”.

“…Evil is—” Finally Nemesis opened her mouth. “—Those who won’t obey the established ‘rules’. Those who disrupt order. That’s the basics of it, right?”

“Then what about Gallerian and Riliane’s case? They were the ones who created the ‘rules’, after all.”

“I said ‘rules’ to be brief, but there’s many applications of that. Rules of countries, rules of the court, personal rules, or…the rules of gods. Occasionally those contradict each other. In that case—the rules of the one who wins out in the end are taken as just.”

“So you’re saying that you aren’t ‘evil’.”

“Correct. I’m the winner.”

“…Is that really so? It’s true that you’re the sole living thing in the world. But…It’s still possible for the dead to kill the living.” Held looked up at the night sky. “If you wish to become the true ‘winner’…I would advise you do something about that.”

At that moment, Nemesis finally noticed it.

On the other end of Held’s gaze, floating high in the air, was a peculiar object illuminated by the light of the moon.

“That’s…it can’t be! What’s that doing here?!”

It was an enormous “black box”.

If Nemesis’ eyes weren’t deceiving her, that was without a doubt a “Blackbox”—a piece of technology from the Second Period.

“Is that an illusion someone conjured up too?”

“It can’t be. Who could think one up, given it didn’t exist in the Third Period?”

Upon hearing those words, Nemesis immediately turned to Allen.

“Nope, it wasn’t me.” Allen denied firmly, shaking his head and waving his hands. “And that ‘Blackbox’ looks a bit different in construction from the one I’m familiar with.”

There were several types of “Blackbox” that Nemesis knew about.

The one floating in the air just then was—

It’s unlike the Type E, as well as the Type L that I made. The closest I can think of is…the Type S!

The second edition device created by the physicist Seth Twiright.

That was the “Type S”.

But the Type S wasn’t loaded onto the spaceship “Climb One” that we’d been riding on. It shouldn’t be in this world—

And there Nemesis recalled an event in her past.

A battle between sorceresses that had occurred in Merrigod Plateau…That phrase that had been spoken by the Red Cat Sorceress.

…She had called the device that was installed in her chest cavity a “Blackbox Type S”. If that was a “Blackbox” that Seth made in this world—

If that “black box” up there was no illusion, but the real deal.

There was a chance that Seth had created it in secret.

Though I’d no inkling of him making such a thing while he was with me—or rather, Nemesis—at the very least. Perhaps when he was in the Hellish Yard before…But then, I can’t imagine Gumillia would have allowed it.

It might have been fastest for her to just ask Seth, but given that he wasn’t around at the moment she couldn’t do that either.

“How about we try getting close to it for now?”

Allen nodded at Nemesis’ suggestion. “That might be best.”

“We’ll just head to ‘Evils Theater’ later…”

“—It looks like we might not have to.”

Allen pointed above the “black box” in the air.

It would be more clearly visible if this were during the day, but…it appeared that something else was floating there.

Nemesis strained her eyes, trying to confirm what she was seeing.

And once she understood his response, she was shocked once again.

“…I don’t get any of this. How is a theater floating above the ‘Blackbox’?”

“I guess that looks bizarre to you too, huh?”

“I could say the same for the ‘Blackbox’, but…A heavy building like that floating in the air should be completely impossible under Third Period technology, at the very least. Even if it’s an illusion, it’s just completely uncalled for to deliberately have it floating in space. It’s like a child made it up.”

“…Surprisingly enough, that might be accurate.”

“…?”

“I mean that theater might be an illusion brought about by a child, or else someone with a child-like personality. In any case, we should probably go see it first.”

“Quite right.” Nemesis approached the blue bird that was sitting blasé on the tree branch. “With that, we’ll be leaving soon.”

“Hmph…You alright leaving without saying anything to your friends?”

“—They aren’t the ‘Climb One’ crewmembers anymore. They’ve lost their memories, and live in this world as spirits.”

“True…But there are exceptions. Those who have regained their former memories.”

Nemesis didn’t need to ask him who those “exceptions” were. She had a pretty good idea of who that applied to, and also knew that none of them were in this forest right then.

Rather, she had something else that she needed to ask him.

“One last thing…Professor Held. Why did you become the ‘Great Land God Held’?”

“…? What do you mean?”

“You were against us managing the new world. That was the reason why we wound up fighting each other. And yet despite that—”

“You can’t understand it. You’re wondering then what in the world were we fighting over.”

“—Yeah.”

“…It was the ‘Moon Goddess’s idea. I—no, none of us, could go against her. …Now then, I think you best be off.”

And at that, Held finally stopped talking completely.

It was as though he had turned into a mere bird, that would not reply no matter what Nemesis said.

“…Farewell, Professor Held.”

“…”

Nemesis reluctantly said goodbye to Held, and went to move on ahead with Allen.

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solavillain · 5 years

Text

Pas de Deux Ch. 1: A New Visitor

+pairing: Spinel x fem!Reader +genre: Drama, romance, angst +warnings: None (for now) +word count: 3.1K +Chapter 1 / ? next chapter

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Summary: You love spending your summers in Beach City. You’ve come here since you were young, and have since befriended Steven and the Crystal Gems. You thought all Gem conflict had ended, and could finally spend a summer relaxing with your friends. However, your world flips upside down when a new Gem enters into the mix.

“Shit, I’m so fired!“

This is the only thought racing through your head as you bold down the boardwalk on the way to your café job. It’s not glamorous, or particularly well-paying, but you’d been coming to Beach City every summer since you were a child, and you weren’t about to stop that tradition now that you were in you final year of college. You figured out a way to stay in town and earn some pocket money, so you were good to go.

“Not if I get fired for being late again...” you groan internally and pick up the pace. Finally, you round a corner and bolt through the door, and behind the counter of the café, glancing at the time on the register.

“20 minutes late, y/n...” your manager warns, giving you a side look as you head to the back of the store to get yourself collected. “How do you manage to be late when you live, like, 5 minutes away?” “It’s a talent?” You say, chuckling nervously before ducking to the back. At least it doesn’t seem like firing is on the table for today.

Once you’re up front and working, the day passes by like any other. You’d had an early shift, so when you break for lunch it’s right around 1 o’clock, a perfect time to sit outside and admire the beachfront view while sipping on your drink of choice. You glance down the boardwalk, past The Big Donut, to where Steven and the Crystal Gems live. You hadn’t really interacted with them much when you’d visited with your family as a child, but once you started coming over the summers by yourself, you’d slowly gotten to know them all.

Steven had started off like a typical kid, but very quickly came to be a mature and thoughtful young adult, someone whom you looked up to. You didn’t know the full details of what had been happening out in space the past few years, but from what the Gems told you, he was doing amazing work. He was always so candid with his thoughts and feelings, and you found yourself wanting to spend time with him every summer you were working in Beach City.

Garnet had intimidated you quite a bit at first; since you had mostly seen her around when the Gems were fighting something in town. But she seemed to come out of her shell as Steven got more involved in Gem goings-on, and every so often she stopped in the café with Steven and you found yourself at ease around her, content to talk about everything or nothing. She was a true leader.

Amethyst was your go-to for nights out, especially since Little Homeworld had popped up and more and more gems had begun moving in- Amethyst seemed to get along with all of them. You were a bit shy the first time she’d brought you over, especially since she already seemed pretty close with some of them. You had met Lapis, Bismuth and Peridot a couple times, but they hadn’t really left the countryside until Little Homeworld, and they’d been so busy building the past two summers you’d been in Beach City that you hadn’t gotten the chance to know them as well as you’d liked. But Amethyst had promised to change that soon, since construction was almost done and she’d have time for hanging out again. You were really looking forward to that.

Pearl was, arguably, the gem you were closest to. You had a lot in common- a love of music and the arts, a very strong need to be clean and organized, and you were both rather emotionally open with each other, which was nice and refreshing. Even if there was a bit of a disconnect, with her being less familiar with human affairs, she was still your favorite person to see whenever you went over to the Temple. She had even agreed to start training you in self-defense this summer, just for fun- she knew you probably wouldn’t need it against any gem threats, but you thought it might be useful for human matters, at least.

You smiled warmly down the boardwalk, as a peculiar sight pulled you from your reminiscing- Steven emerging from a newly pink Lars’ head. You sat up straight and leaned forward, trying to get a better look. You hadn’t seen Steven in a very long time, as he’d been traveling the universe with the diamonds, as Pearl had told you when you arrived this summer and found him gone. Garnet had arrived at the shop a few minutes earlier, and she pulled out a chair for Steven at the table of gems. You smiled warmly at the group, wishing you could go over and join them. But just as you thought that, the 2-minute warning you’d set on your phone went off, signaling that it was almost the end of your break time.

You sighed and stood up slowly, taking one last glance at the group by the Big Donut, where Steven was heading to the newly installed warp that connected Beach City to Little Homeworld. You hoped you could meet up with him later and catch up on all that had been going on the past couple years.

The rest of your shift passed by without much happening. You saw a couple new gems walk by outside the shop, but they didn’t come in, reminding you that not all gems ate everything in sight like Amethyst. You smiled to yourself at the thought, and glanced at the clock, eager to get off work and go visit everyone.

Finally, it was time to go, clocking out once your replacement mid-day shift arrived. You said a quick goodbye to your coworkers and gathered your things, walking out the door into the hot sun. You took a deep breath of the salty sea air, and smiled to yourself. Finally it was time to go catch up with everyone. You had seen them all rush down the boardwalk towards the temple a little while ago, from your position in the café, so you turned left and began to head over.

As you approached the beach, you glanced up towards the lighthouse, and a smile broke out on your face. Laying on the hill were your four favorite people- Garnet, Amethyst, Pearl, and Steven, and they all looked totally contented and relaxed. You started the trek up the rather large hill, but suddenly the sky darkened.

All four of the Gems suddenly sat up, and from what little you could see of their facial expressions from this far away, they did not look relaxed any longer. In fact, they were all looking towards the sky...

Glancing up, your stomach dropped and you scrambled back towards the base of Lighthouse Park, trying to put some distance between you and the very, very large object that was currently descending from the clouds. You knew that, at the very least, it couldn’t be any of the Diamonds Pearl had told you about- Steven had been helping them, teaching them to be good...there was no way they would attack the Earth now, especially after all he’s done. So who...?

As the giant object neared the ground, a drill head emerged from the bottom of it, and with a thunderous boom, it inserted into the hill, right in front of your eyes. You stood in shock for a moment, until you realized you couldn’t see where Steven and the Gems were anymore.

“Oh my god. What if...?”

You shook your head, willing away the burning sensation beginning in your eyes. “No,” you thought, “they’re fine. I’ll just...”

You glanced anxiously back towards Beach City, torn between wanting to get somewhere safe, and wanting to make sure your friends were okay. You turned back towards the hill and the giant injector, and started making your way up the hill, mentally preparing yourself to help in any way possible.

“This damn hill is a lot steeper than I remember it being,” you think, as you push even faster, racing to try to get to them in time. Not that you even know what’s going on- you can’t hear or see anything, which worries you more than if you had heard fighting sounds.

Finally, you reach the injector, and you make your way around it. Just in time to see a menacing, stretchy pink Gem poof Garnet, Amethyst and Pearl.

You gasp quietly, still unsure if you should get involved. You know Steven is just as strong, if not stronger, than a lot of the Gems you’ve met. And you’re full human, you can’t poof and come back...you decide to wait until you’re sure Steven needs your help.

“That’s enough!” You hear him cry as he pulls his shield from his gem.

“Aw, miss your friends already, Steven?” A sickly sweet voice asks, prompting you to come out from behind cover to glance once again at the pink Gem.

“Well, don’t worry- you're right behind ‘em!”

She leaps forward, spinning towards Steven in an acrobatic display, the scythe-like weapon in her hand glowing menacingly. The weapon breaks through Steven’s shield and passes through him- he shudders and trembles, but you can see that he’s ultimately fine.

“Hah! That was nothing!” He says triumphantly. You relax a little- he's half human, gem weapons don’t really effect him. He could handle this on his own.

The other Gem chuckles menacingly, “Then I guess you won’t mind if I do it again!” She slices through him, laughing a high pitched maniacal laugh all the while. Though you know Steven is usually safe from...what was it they had called them? Gem destabilizers? You knew he was safe from those, but still...it couldn’t feel pleasant. “Cut it out!” Steven cried out, finally seeing a break in the attacks, and grabbed the scythe.

The pink Gem narrowed her eyes, “You don’t poof, do you? Hmm. Figured as much. Just wait! Your human half won’t stand a chance against my injector...not after what I just did to your gem!”

With that, your eyes widened. Was she going to do something to him right now? What happened to Steven’s gem? You couldn’t just stand by and watch her hurt Steven.

“Hey!” You called out, trying to mask the wariness in your voice. “Get away from him!”

You stepped out from behind the injector, tried to remember every bit of training Pearl had given you thus far, and began to make your way over to them.

“Y/n, don’t!” Steven cried out, still struggling with his hold on the other gems’ weapon. “Well now, who is this, Steven? You didn’t introduce me to your little...ah, a human friend!” She grinned at you, her eyes going wide and bright pink. “Sadly, you’ll have to wait a little while to reap the benefits of my lovely new toys. This ol’ thing here won’t do much to ya...but that will.” She gazed up at the giant pink injector that you had just walked out from. You had no idea what it did, but you really didn’t like what she was insinuating.

With her focus momentarily elsewhere, Steven saw an opening and wrenched the scythe away from the invading gem. “Just...stop!” He yelled, and passed the weapon through her. She cackled manically, one half her body sliding down the other almost grotesquely- even though you knew she was only projected light, the sight still made your stomach turn. Finally, she poofed, and with a soft thud, fell to the ground.

“Ugh...” Steven groaned, falling to his knees. “Guess I should bubble her...” He tried to form his pink bubble, and failed. You furrowed your brows- you had never seen his powers do that in recent years, he’d had very good control over them for a while now. He tried once more and couldn’t even get anything to form this time. “What...?” he whispered softly, staring at his hands, and then looked over to the scythe. “Y/n, whatever that is...I think it did something to my gem. That’s not a gem destabilizer, it’s...something else.”

You put a comforting hand on his back, and held out the other to help him stand. “No use worrying about it now... let’s just get everyone back to a safe area, and we can figure everything out when they all...come back. Maybe we could call Greg?” “Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. Let’s go back to my house,” he said softly, standing up and heading back down the hill.

You threw a passing glance at the injector, tilting your head back to see the very top of it. It was full with bright pink...stuff. Whatever that was, it wasn’t gonna be good.

Back at Steven’s house, you stood in the kitchen, watching Steven silently fret over his friends poofed gems. You could tell he was extremely worried, and wanted to give him some space. He was looking more and more anxious by the minute. Maybe you should say something... “Steven, I-” “Steven!” Just then, Greg burst through the door, and both you and Steven visibly relaxed. You may be older than Steven, but this Gem stuff is still fairly new to you, and Greg has been dealing with it for years. He would at least be able to comfort Steven more than you could.

“I came as fast as I could. Are you guys ok?” He asked, glancing between you and Steven. If he was surprised to see you there, his expression didn’t show it.

Greg notices the Gems lying on the table, and his eyes widen. “Holy sh...she really got everybody! Is that her?” His gaze landed on the pink heart-shaped gem. You walked over to get a better look, now that the atmosphere was a bit less tense. The gem itself really was quite striking- multi faceted, very shiny, and very pink.

“Yeah,” Steven answered his father.

“Who-?”

“No idea.”

“Why?!”

“No idea!” Steven sighed and sunk into the couch. You moved to sit next to him silently, wanting to offer your support, but not wanting to interject too much. “How?” Greg asked, seemingly too restricted by shock to ask more than one-worded questions.

“She hit all of us with this,” Steven answered, pulling the retracted scythe from his pocket.

“Hey, I mean...at least it only poofed them, right?” You chimed in, giving them both a halfhearted smile.

Steven shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know if that’s all it did to them... It did something extra weird to me, my powers aren’t working right. Look at this!” He tries to summon his shield, and it blinks in and out a few times, before vanishing completely.

You furrow your brow, the pit of your stomach dropping. That’s definitely different. If it did that to Steven, what could it have done to the Gems...? Steven puts the weapon away, and puts his head in his hands. “I just have no idea what’s going on!”

“Well son...now you know how I feel almost all the time.” You stifle a giggle- you can totally relate, and while it was an amusing comment...it makes you wonder if you might be truly in over your head here.

“Hey, guys...” You start to say, and clasp your hands in your lap, avoiding their gaze. “I’m sorry if I’m making things harder or weirder by being here. I know there’s not a whole lot I can do with what limited training I have, especially not if she reforms and tries to attack us again...” You trail off, chancing a look at Steven and Greg.

“No, I want you here!” Steven exclaims, startling both you and Greg. “Honestly, without you I don’t know if I would have been able to get the scythe away from her. Even if it was on accident, you arrived at just the right time and distracted her for me. And you’re better at fighting than you give yourself credit for!”

“Hah...thanks, Steven,” you say, letting out a sigh. As long as he wanted you here and you weren’t getting in the way, you would stay to support your friends.

The relaxed atmosphere didn’t last long. Surprisingly, Pearl- who, you had been told in the past, was often the last one to reform after being poofed- was the first Gem to begin glowing and floating in the air.

“Ah, good ol’ Pearl! She’ll know what to do!” Greg exclaimed, looking relieved. You were relieved as well; Pearl was your rock when things got tough in your personal life, and she always kept a level head during a crisis, for the most part. Once the other Crystal Gems reformed, they would be able to fight off the invading Gem easily. You smiled up at Pearl’s glowing Gem, waiting for her to reemerge.

Instead, the sight that greeted you was rather...different. Instead of a glowing outline of Pearl, taking form to her normal self, a holographic oyster shone around the gem and began to speak.

“Please, identify yourself.”

“Um...Greg Universe?”

You glanced warily between Pearl and the Universes. As far as you knew, this had never happened before. “What’s going on?” You whispered to Steven, gazing back up at Pearl’s gem.

“I’m not sure,” he murmurs, “this...isn’t normal at all.” You gave him a sympathetic look, as Pearl continued speaking. “Greetings, Um-Greg Universe! Please state preferred customization options.”

Greg blanches, and looks to you and Steven for help. “Uh, what am I supposed to say here?”

“I don’t know,” Steven exclaims. “This is so weird,” you mutter, still staring at the floating holo-oyster.

“Default settings selected,” the gem says, “please stand by.”

All three of you go wide-eyed as the gem flies to the middle of the room, and finally, Pearl emerges. Except...she looks different. Well, you knew they often changed their forms after being poofed, so maybe she just wanted to try something new. Though, you had never really known her to be the puffy sleeves and skirt type...

“Pearl!” Steven exclaims, ecstatic to have his friend back. “Pearl, thank goodness you’re back!”

But Pearl says nothing to Steven, seemingly not even noticing him, or you for that matter. She only has eyes for...

“How do you do? My Um-Greg Universe? Thank you for bringing me into the world.” Pearl takes Greg’s hand, and gazes up at him with what could only be described as devotion. She kneels in front of him and continues, “I am at your eternal service! Welcome to your new Pearl.”

You look over at Steven, who is staring at Pearl and his father in shock.

“Well,” you think, “this is certainly going to be interesting.”

#spinel #spinel x reader #spinel x reader fic #spinel fanfic #spinel steven universe #meriberry #spinel fanfiction #steven universe #steven universe fanfiction

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deceptive-jo · 4 years

Text

Who am I to you?

Based on this post where I said I wasn’t gonna do it. Not part of my Brotherly Divination AU.

The Actor lost his best friend years ago. Meanwhile the Host just tries to live in peace with the other egos and Dark. But is that all there is to it or might there be a past and future for them?

TW: death, mention of lost body parts (It’s the Host what do you expect), manipulation, loss of a loved one, cursing

Words: 2.909

@blood-stained-ink I have a feeling you might want to look at that.

Author loved the Actor. That was a fact, they were both aware of it and it was completely up to them what they made of it. Currently that meant small kisses in passing, hot cups of tea and a warm blanket whenever one of them fell asleep on their desks and cuddles in front of the fireplace after waking up from yet another nightmare. It was enough. Honestly, being able to live in peace in their cottage and continuing to work was more than he could have hoped for. So what if Dark wanted to come over to bother them from time to time? He could go back to hell for all Author cared. It was not like he had a place to judge their relationship as long as he had that pink maniac running around. So what if they were a pair of egoistical assholes that killed people from time to time? That was nothing less then the other Egos could say about themselves. Well, maybe King, that boy was precious. No, Author was content, as long as he had his partner and a successful novel from time to time.

Speaking of- “Where did you put my baseball bat?”, the yell rang through the house to catch the attention of a certain performer in his bedroom. The Actor, or Marc as called by most, turned away from the mirror he was fixing his hair in front of and marched out of the room. “What do you mean? You put it back in your room after last time- Wait are you going out?! We’re supposed to be at the restaurant at 7!” Author dragged his hand through his hair. Right, the dinner Ace had planned. “I’m gonna be quick”, he yelled upstairs not bothering to search for his bat. He’d have to do with his pen and notebook then. He was already half out of the front door when he caught the “Don’t get any blood on your clothes”. ‘Don’t worry, love’, he thought to himself, ’I am going to look my best just for you.’ With that thought and a last grin the door slammed close behind him.

The Actor paced back and forth in the living room, throwing a hurried glance towards the front door and listening intently for any sound the back door might make. Nothing. What ever the hell was ‘quick’ for that asshole? Sure, they still had 10 minutes left but Author knew how much he hated to arrive in the very last secound if he could avoid it. But they’d just have to go through the void. If only this idiot would finally come back. But Author did not come back. Not in the next 10 minutes. Not the next hour. Not even the next day. It was after waking up on the couch for the secound time in a row that Marc decided to start searching for his friend. So he wandered through the forest for hours, trying to pick up any trace Author or his ‘victim’ could have left behind. Nothing. Then the actor went into the city, checking the cafes and restaurants they frequented, the book shops his best friend would sometimes spend hours in, but again, nothing. No one he asked had any recollection of seeing the Author the last days. Marc even sifted through the void for 4 days in a row steering clear only of the blue-red pulsating area that was Dark’s aura. After two weeks he stopped searching. He didn’t know if that was an appropriate time or if he should search longer. To be completely honest, he hadn’t really lost a person before like that. The last person to not come back to him was Celine but he still knew where she was back then and he refused to think about the implication this left for his current situation. Truth be told, he also didn’t like the other implications that left. The man sighed, slumped over on his desk staring at the small ring box in his hands that had become increasingly heavy in his pockets over the last days. Where the hell was his best friend?

The Host didn’t remember much. In fact, before a certain point in his life his mind drew a blank slate. When waking up the man found himself unable to see. The room smelled of hand sanitizer and peppermint. A hospital perhaps? But why would he be in a hospital? The next he knew a person appeared at his side and the scent of peppermint and hand sanitizer grew stronger. “Hello Host. My name is Dr Iplier. I’m going to change your bandages real quick then Dark will want to speak to you”, a male’s warm voice reassured him. The Host – was that his name? It seemed so peculiar – had many questions but he still kept them in while the doctor was at work. After that he couldn’t feel him leave the room but instead another presence joined him and suddenly the Host was glad that the doctor stayed. This presence was different, repressing and dark. The new man set himself next to the Host and began to talk in a deep, echoing voice, for a long time. He told the Host that his name was Darkiplier and that he was the leader of what he called ‘Egos’. Apparently the Host was one of them. They took him in after finding him on the forest floor, unconscious and with his eyes ripped out of his skull. The Host was still very confused but Darkiplier was there to explain most of his questions. Whenever he awoke in the hospital bed in the manor’s clinic Dark sat next to him, no matter how late it was. He was there to comfort him after he had another nightmare, more wild and obscure pictures just flunked around in his head. It was Dark who helped him figure out how his new sight worked and when he had his first vision that left him thrashing and screaming it was Dark who appeared and calmed him down. When he was allowed to finally leave the clinic Dark awaited him in the hallway and took his arm. While escorting him through the manor Dark did most of the talking. That was alright. The Host was more then content with listening to his boss (friend?) complaining about the Jim’s newest shenanigans. He just contributed his occasional nod or short remark and in no time they arrived at his room close to Dark’s.

The next months passed in a rush. Despite mostly staying in his bedroom, the library he discovered soon and Dark’s office he still became well enough acquainted with the rest of the hosehold. RJ and CJ were always eager to listen to his stories, Bim liked to spend his rehearsal time before a show in his room and even Google tolerated his stay in the android’s office whenever the Host wished to escape the chaos of the house. But over it all it was Dark who he was closest to. Whenever he could spare the time the entity would visit the Host in the library for a game of chess, a talk or simply to read in the semi-silence of the room. The first time he touched him the Host still repulsed, startled. But Dark didn’t seem annoyed to announce himself before making a move and soon the seemingly random hand on his arm or shoulder brushes became a regular thing between the two of them. He had a feeling they were more and more trusting towards each other. The Host knew that it was no use to try and lie to his friend and Dark was aware that he could hardly keep a secret from him. So they didn’t. Besides Dr Iplier was Dark the only one to have seen the Host’s empty eye sockets. Whenever Dark would have an episode his friend would know and help him with his chronic pain as good as possible.

The Host assumed this to be a normal thing until he noticed the reactions of the others and how Dark always seemed to distance himself to them somewhat, or how he seemed to never enter any of their offices in a non-business related matter. After this revelation he also began to notice how the others treated him in a seemingly overly conscious way as well as the looks Wilford would throw him sometimes that he couldn’t quite place. Something had changed with his closeness to Dark and he didn’t like the effect it had on his relationship with the other Egos.

But all that didn’t matter right now. In this moment the only thing that mattered was Dark’s arm around his, pressing the Host close to his chest. His chin rested on his head and the man’s hand gently stroke his hair, twirling his blonde streak of hair around his grey fingers. “What is on your mind, dear?”, mumbled the demon who had noticed his friend to be in deep thoughts once again. “The Host was just thinking about the other Egos. He noticed how their behaviour regarding him has changed over the last weeks. They appear to have become more...distant towards him.” The fingers in his hair stopped just for a moment before picking up their motion again. Dark hummed, “Don’t worry about them. Who knows what’s gotten into them. They’ll get themselves together again, I’m sure. You should get your mind off of these thing. I’ll invite you to dinner.” That actually took the Host off guard, “W-What would bring Dark to such an offer?” “Can’t I just take out my boyfriend?” “Boyfriend?”, when had that happened? Had he not interpreted the change in behaviour right? Dark chuckled behind him, “That wasn’t supposed to slip out. I can take it back if you want me too.” “No”, the Host mumbled. He didn’t move his head, just slowly raised his left arm before his hand got grabbed by Dark’s, “the Host wouldn’t be opposed to that.” “Wonderful, I will come by at 7 to pick you up”, and with that and a quick kiss on his head Dark was out of the room. Leaving the Host behind, alone with his thoughts.

It was exactly 7 pm when the Host heard a knock at his bedroom door. He opened the door, trying not to look as if he had been standing behind it for several minutes already. Dark smirked down at him looking somehow even sharper in his suit than usual. He reached forward before stopping himself as if he had to remind himself of something. What was it- right, the Touch-Rule. Why had they put that up again? It was not as if he would mind, right? “Your tie is crooked”, a moment later he felt quick hands redoing and adjusting his tie. “You look good”, came from his escort as he took his arm and began guiding him down the corridor. The Host beamed at the compliment. He had found a suit in the back of the wardrobe that he didn’t even remember owning. He did not know why it seemed so important for him to impress Dark all out of a sudden. But that was normal for boyfriends, right?

Dark watched his pet as he rambled on about his latest works. He did look just as handsome in the suit as he had imagined. ‘Yes, I can definitely make this work’, he thought to himself. By now all his moves had played out in his favour, from gaining the seer’s trust and affection to wiping his memories. It hadn’t been easy, he had to admit that, but in the end it pay out. When they found the Author in the woods, alone and unconscious, they had to take the chance they got. Host would be thankful for knowing that he freed him from this obnoxious personality and the Actor’s influence were he ever to regain his memories. Not like that was going to happen any time soon.

The Host was...content. He should be happy. Maybe he was. Technically his life hadn’t changed. He still spend most of his time in his office, writing and recording. Bim and the Jims didn’t come to his room quite as often. Dr Iplier rarely talked during their appointments any more. He hadn’t seen the rest of the group for days, or was it weeks? He found it hard to sleep, often falling asleep only in the early mornings which usually resulted in Dark bringing him breakfast. That was the one constant in his life: Dark. And while he still stopped by from time to time and they spent most nights together...there was something keeping them at the points they were now. They didn’t grow apart, you couldn’t say that, but there seemed to be this one topic that stood like a wall of glass between them – the Host’s past. He still couldn’t recall exact memories (not like he was trying to) but much like with the Egos he managed to catch onto certain auras and atmospheres. And while those surely changed – from wild green swirling in deep oak brown over baby blue tinted with cold metal to flashing yellow playing with lavendel – one red aura always stayed there, omnipresent and calming, warm. He was unsure on the identity of this man, for he knew it was a man, but he was sure of his connection with him, which was a passionate and loving one. For a moment he wanted to assume it was Dark’s, though it didn’t match with his current one. Maybe he should ask him. While Dark didn’t like to talk about his past, he had always shown interest in any possibility of the Host’s memories returning. The Host did not tell him about the man.

It was the Host’s birthday. Well, actually it was the day he joined the Egos but they didn’t really have anything else to go of. He received some mumbled birthday wishes when he entered the kitchen but he could also feels how the others averted their eyes not even daring to look into his direction. He knew why they did it. He had had enough time to really think last night, seemingly for the first time in a while. That wasn’t to say that he liked the reason. He needed to get out of here before the air suffocated him.

The man sitting on the porch of the small cottage went by the name of Actor. His friends called him Marc but the last one of them had died three years ago. Exactly three years actually. That’s why he sat on this porch. Because he shouldn’t bother any more, right? He told himself he didn’t because that was not the kind of person he was. But that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t had another partner since then, that he had taken no one here – home.

The man had lived in a manor once, together with his beautiful wife. When she left him the huge house felt too big and too empty for him alone. So he filled it with parties and music and loud women and men. Ten he had started to live here with his beautiful friend. When he left him the house felt way too tiny, suffocating, made him question how they had survived in it as two. So he didn’t need to fill it with noise. As it was it was enough. It had always been.

Movement out of the side of his eye caught his attention. Annoyed at the disturbance he turned around and looked right at- “Author?” The other man looked up at him, caught off guard. He could now see the bandage around his head, not the beautiful golden eyes of his beloved but besides that and the glimming golden streak of hair it was an exact copy of him. The man seemed to have noticed his stare and began muttering again. How had he not noticed that before? Actor opened his mouth again when- “The Host knows you”, the stranger (?) blurted out. “You do?” The man nodded, “Your...aura. He has seen it before. In his memory”, he tapped lightly against his temple as if to emphasize his point, “No, he doesn’t know who you are. But of all the few things he remembers...you are the clearest.” Actor frowned. He didn’t understand everything the man (the Host?) said but damn if he wasn’t going to try and help them both. “I’m the Actor”, he began while slowly walking towards the Host, “and you are the Author. But you’re supposed to be dead.” The Host (Author?) slowly shook his head, the same sad and omnipotent smile on his face as his partner, “He supposes that would have been three years ago.” “How did you know that?”, Marc hissed with narrowed eyes. “That’s when the Host was taken in by the Egos with no recollection of his previous life.” “The Egos- Fucking Dark”, Marc swore under his breath. That insufferable, disastrous bastard! How could he dare to- “What did he do to you?”, he had to know. And may the gods know if that absolute maniac had hurt just a single part of his beloved’s being he would make. him. suffer. But the Host just kept looking at him with that tilted head, the sad smile still on his lips as if he were to pity the other man. “He proposed.”

#markiplier egos #the author #the actor #the host #darkiplier #the actor x the author #the host x darkiplier #dr iplier #other egos mentioned #tw death #tw loss of a loved one #tw loss of body parts #tw manipulation #tw cursing #angst #no happy ending

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ibijau · 4 years

Text

Burn it down AU // on AO3 // extras on AO3

Things do not go as planned in Nightless City. Lan Wangji worries. Nie Huaisang plots.

warning for some violence (canon typical levels I’d say?)

Nightless City had never been Lan Wangji’s favourite place to travel to, but after years of abandonment, it had become truly ghoulish. In certain places, the lingering resentment was so strong it became nearly impossible to breathe. In the bitter wind, Lan Wangji thought he could still hear the shrill notes of Chenqing playing a deadly melody. In every shadow, he half saw the shape of Wei Wuxian, fractured by too many losses, on the verge of shattering beyond repair, taking hundreds down with him.

Lan Wangji could have happily lived to immortality and never set foot again in this cursed city. It must have shown. Several times, Nie Huaisang tried to order him away, saying he was perfectly capable of handling his brother’s body, even if Nie Mingjue really had turned into a fierce corpse and needed to be subdued.

“I’m not much of a cultivator, but even I can take care of a fierce corpse,” he boasted again and again with an empty smile. “Go wait for me in the nearest town, Wangji. It’s a family problem anyway, and I’ve made you help enough already.”

“We’re family,” Lan Wangji said at last, when he grew tired of his husband trying to send him away.

After this, Nie Huaisang grew quiet and stopped insisting that he could do this alone.

It wasn’t until they arrived to the spot marked on the map that Lan Wangji understood where, exactly, his brother-in-law’s remains had been hidden. He felt nauseous at being once more in front of Wen Ruohan’s palace, where the remains of the Wen siblings had been scattered to the winds, Wei Wuxian’s last friends, the last people he had cared about.

The place where the entire cultivation had united together, just as tightly as they had during the Sunshot Campaign, and announced that they had decided who their next enemy would be. The place where Wei Wuxian’s death had been decided, where he had lost what little he still had and snapped over the bloodied corpse of his sister. The place where…

“Hey, stay with me,” Nie Huaisang called to him, grabbing his sleeve and pulling lightly, the way A-Yuan did sometimes. “So, this is the right place, uh? Heavens, it looks even worse than in my memories. Remember that archery contest, at that last conference the Wens held? Damn, I remember the party after, it was so awful. The alcohol was so cheap. Talk about disrespecting your guests! Ah, not that it’d matter to you, of course. I wonder how the tea was?”

“Bad,” Lan Wangji managed to answer, taking one shaky breath after another. “Cheap.”

“I knew it! And the food was awful as well. There was that weird dessert… did you have any of the desserts?”

Lan Wangji dived under more recents memories and tried to remember that conference. It felt a lifetime ago. It was, in a way. They had all been different before the war. Sometimes, it all felt like a dream. And in that dream, he could not remember whether he’d eaten the dreadful desserts Nie Huaisang apparently recalled with such clarity. Thinking about it helped a little, though, forcing him to focus on something other than his last visit to Nightless City.

“No desserts,” he still said, since that seemed likely. He took a deep breath. Now was not the moment to break. He could do that later, when they had recovered Nie Mingue’s body and Nie Huaisang no longer needed his help. “Give me a moment. Then I will see if his soul can be reached.”

“Should I be silent, or keep talking?”

“Hm. Tell me more about the desserts,” Lan Wangji ordered, looking around for a place where he might sit without covering himself in filth.

With Nie Huaisang still clinging to his sleeve, he found a spot at last, not far from where his brother and the other sect leaders had stood to… but no. Lan Wangji pushed away that memory, and forced himself to listen to Nie Huaisang’s graphic description of what he claimed were the worst tanghulu he’d ever eaten in his life. The mindless chatter only stopped when he took out his guqin and played a few notes, bringing him if not peace, then at least clarity.

"I will try Inquiry," he announced.

"You think it will work on Da-ge?"

"No," Lan Wangji admitted, and immediately something crumbled in Nie Huaisang. "There are other spirits lingering here. One might help."

Lan Wangji played the notes that commanded souls to come talk to him. In an instant he found himself surrounded with the screams and rage of all those who had perished in this cursed city. Several ceremonies had been performed to put them to rest, but with so many having died, and in such a violent manner, it had not yet been enough to calm them.

In vain, Lan Wangji tried to call forth the soul of Nie Mingjue. All that brought him was a dissonant mass of spirits trying to seize his guqin, either praising or cursing his brother-in-law for his actions in Nightless City. Lan Wangji played a few more notes to calm them before trying a different question. Had they seen Jin Guangyao come to this place in the past year?

Less spirits rushed to him this time, and Lan Wangji was able to select the strongest one among them to answer, one single word.

Yes.

The spirit, a fallen Nie disciple, had trained alongside Jin Guangyao during his time in Qinghe Nie and thus knew him very well. He had no doubt that it was him, having caught a glimpse of his face. After further interrogation, it revealed that Jin Guangyao had come there to bury something, and it was able to give the precise location, hidden under a large paving stone. Lan Wangji thanked the spirit, promised to see what could be done about another calming ceremony, and turned to his husband to share the news.

"Let me guess, he hid Da-ge's body under the spot where they took the oath, didn't he?"

"Hm."

"Theatrical bastard," Nie Huaisang hissed. "Wangji, if you want, I'll handle the rest alone. I can manage."

Lan Wangji shook his head.

"A fierce corpse is not a person. What we find might attack you."

"But still…"

"I won't let A-Yuan be orphaned again."

That cut short to all of Nie Huaisang’s protests, as Lan Wangji expected it would.

Together, and with both of them equally uneasy though for different reasons, they went to the spot indicated by the spirit. It was barely visible if one did not look for it, but among the paving stones there was one that appeared to have been unsealed.

Without saying it, Lan Wangji knew that Nie Huaisang and him were thinking the same thing: that stone did not look large enough to cover a body, let alone that of a man as tall as Nie Mingjue. Still they knelt on the ground and got to work, carefully lifting the stone, then digging the soil under until they found a box.

That box itself was nothing special. It was made of black wood and carried no particular mark. And yet powerful dark energies surrounded it, barely contained by a great number of peculiar talismans drawn in blood.

"I've never seen those talismans before," Nie Huaisang commented in a weak voice, clearly trying to ignore the more glaring issue. That box that was little more than the length of Lan Wangji's arm.

"I have," Lan Wangji announced, though he could not quite remember where he might have seen them. "It will come to me."

Nie Huaisang nodded weakly. He brought one hand toward the box, as if to brush his fingers against the wood, but stopped short of touching it.

"Wangji… That box… It's really too small, isn't it?" he whispered. “Do you think… do you think he cremated him?”

“Hm.”

It was a likely possibility. It would have eliminated any traces of the crime, and made it far more difficult to summon Nie Mingjue’s soul to testify regarding his own death.

It would definitely have required an accomplice though, because the fierce corpse of such a man would not have allowed itself to be destroyed so easily, and Jin Guangyao’s cultivation was what it was. Besides, the talismans on the box did not look like ordinary ones. There were few methods that called for the characters to be drawn in blood, and currently the most famous one was Wei Wuxian’s demonic path. Considering that Lanling Jin had been the one to get its hands on most of Wei Wuxian’s notes, that they had infamously hired a person such as Xue Yang to make sense of those…

“That talisman, isn’t it different from the others?” Nie Huaisang suddenly pointed out. “Look, it has one stroke less than the others.”

Before Lan Wangji could stop him, Nie Huaisang reached for the faulty talisman. As soon as he touched the paper it consumed itself, allowing an intense burst of resentful energy to be released from the box. Nie Huaisang cried out in surprise or pain, while Lan Wangji, acting on sheer instinct, jumped to his feet and drew his sword. Before Bichen was fully out of its sheath, the box’s lid was shattered as a lone arm burst out of its confinement.

In the split second it took Lan Wangji to comprehend what was happening, the arm launched itself at Nie Huaisang’s throat since he was closest, and alternated between trying to strangle him and clawing at his skin. It did not stop its assault until Lan Wangji slashed at it with his sword, distracting it from its victim. For a moment the arm, as if enraged, tried to attack Lan Wangji, blindly clawing in his direction and narrowly avoiding being cut to pieces by Bichen. Quickly though, it lost interest in that fight. Twice Lan Wangji managed to stop it, but in the end the arm avoided his attacks and returned to assault Nie Huaisang who was still kneeling on the ground, trying to stop the gashes on his throat from bleeding out.

Nie Huaisang screamed in terror and pain when that ghoulish arm seized his own, digging its claws into his flesh.

The arm was not merely tearing at him now, but instead dug its fingers into the skin of Nie Huaisang as if it sought to get under it. With each passing second, the poor man fought a little more weakly, his skin growing paler until Lan Wangji took his guqin again and hurriedly played a song to calm the arm. It took effort, and a few tries, but after a few minutes he managed to pacify the arm. It fell to the ground, as did Nie Huaisang, pale and whimpering in pain but still alive.

Keeping an eye on the now immobile arm, Lan Wangji hurried to Nie Huaisang’s side and used every bit of spiritual energy he could spare to stop the bleeding. Even when he was done, Nie Huaisang would not stop trembling and crying.

When his eyes fell on the arm, he screamed in rage and horror, the noises resonating in those vast, empty spaces.

“I have to get him back,” Nie Huaisang hissed in a broken voice when he calmed down. “And then I’m killing every single Jin in Lanling.”

“You won’t.”

“I certainly want to! They butchered him! No, not even butchered,” He corrected with a hysterical laugh. “Butchering, that calls for skill. I could cut a body better than that and I will when I get my hands on Guangyao! I’ll dig up his mother and father and show him how it’s done, I will...”

“Huaisang, calm down.”

“My brother! They took my brother and did this to him, and you want me to calm down? If it were Xichen, if it were A-Yuan, would you be calm? I’ll make them pay! Every single one of them, I’ll make them pay!”

Unsure what to do when faced with such desperate rage, Lan Wangji forced himself to put a hand on his husband’s shoulder, hoping to provide some comfort. His hand was slapped away. Nie Huaisang had too little strength left at the moment for it to sting, but the message was clear. Comfort, for now, was not welcome.

Instead, Lan Wangji turned his attention back to the box and, having seen its content, he realised where he had seen those talismans before. They were eerily similar to those Wei Wuxian had used to contain Wen Ning before his conscience was returned to him. They were not quite as neat as the ones he had seen during his brief visit to the Burial Mounds, and if anything, they seemed to have been traced by someone who had only the vaguest idea of the proper way to write characters, but they were still the same ones.

“Demonic cultivation,” he announced to Nie Huaisang, hoping to distract him from his rage. “To contain and conceal.”

Nie Huaisang did not answer, his eyes fixed on the arm. He reached out for it and, with some hesitation, picked it up to hold it against his chest, cradling it as if it were a child.

“We can try the spell again,” Lan Wangji offered. “We might find the rest of him. Even if we do not, this is proof something evil was done to him.”

“He got rid of Xue Yang,” Nie Huaisang mumbled, tightening his hold on his brother’s arm.

“Hm?”

“Guangyao. He got rid of Xue Yang. You say this is demonic cultivation, and Xue Yang was the only person they’d found who was able to make sense of Wei Wuxian’s work. He wasn’t purging his sect and starting anew, he was getting rid of witnesses.”

“It is still proof.”

Nie Huaisang laughed. “Proof of what? The spell we used to find it is a secret Nie technique, it’d be easy to say we lied about its effects, or that I tricked you and used you for my nefarious plans. This arm could be anyone’s. I know it is my brother’s, I know it, but it’ll be my word against Guangyao’s. People don’t like him, but I think they like me even less.”

An unfair statement, in Lan Wangji’s opinion. Lan Xichen believed and trusted them. Jiang Wanying probably had more sympathy for and trust in Nie Huaisang than in his brother-in-law’s half brother who had just usurped his nephew’s inheritance. The older Madam Jin might share that sentiment.

But all that, of course, was on a personal level. Lan Wangji was starting to accept that natural inclination, and things as unquantifiable as honesty and truth, did not matter as much as his sect’s rules had led him to believe.

“We find the rest of his body,” Lan Wangji insisted. “When we are away from this place, I will try Inquiry again. We will find proof.”

Nie Huaisang appeared unconvinced by that promise, for which Lan Wangji could not blame him. After a shock such as this, hope would have been difficult to muster even for a man not already as close to despair as Nie Huaisang was.

They left Nightless City after carefully replacing the paving stone where it belonged and taking great pains to hide that it had been moved. The box they took with them, so they could inspect it later at their leisure to look for clues. The arm, of course, came as well.

It took Lan Wangji great efforts to persuade Nie Huaisang to put the arm back in its box, and to put that box in a qiankun bag so it would be easier to transport. Even then, Nie Huaisang insisted to be the one to carry it, clinging to it as tightly as he had done with the arm itself.

Nie Huaisang did not speak on their way out of the city. He did not speak when they stopped for the night at a small, struggling inn that still survived on the outskirts of Nightless City. He did not speak when Lan Wangji used the different Nie spells he had been taught in a fruitless attempt to locate the rest of the body. The rest of Nie Mingjue must have been better sealed. If not for that mistake with one of the talismans, it was likely that they would never have found even this much.

As promised, Lan Wangji attempted to play Inquiry for the arm. It was all in vain, and Nie Huaisang remained eerily silent. The only sound he made all evening happened when the arm, which had stood perfectly still so far, started moving its fingers of its own accord and appeared to point in his direction. Nie Huaisang cried out and nearly fell down in fear, but before anything could happen Lan Wangji quickly calmed the arm once more, this time putting more power into it so that hopefully it would not trouble them again until the next evening.

When Nie Huaisang went to bed, he took with him the qiankun bag, as if scared that someone might take his brother from him again. In the morning, he looked somehow more tired than when he had gone to sleep, and remained uncharacteristically quiet.

That silence remained as they made their way to the Cloud Recesses where they needed to see Lan Xichen and announce that their plan was not going quite as smoothly as they had all expected. It was unsettling to see Nie Huaisang so quiet when Lan Wangji had never known him as anything but loud and animated both at the heights of his joy and in the depths of his pain. And yet, Lan Wangji did not know how to comfort his friend. All he could do was offer his presence, and be ready to help, should it be asked.

When they arrived in the Cloud Recesses, their first stop was to pick up their son. There was no shyness this time, but a lot of tears as A-Yuan left Hou Tianjian's side and ran into his father’s arms. He wrapped his arms around Lan Wangji’s neck nearly tight enough to choke him. It was good, after those difficult weeks, to be home and have his son with him again. Nightless City had reminded him bitterly of his errors, but at least A-Yuan was proof that he had not entirely failed Wei Wuxian.

When A-Yuan noticed that Nie Huaisang was there as well, he made it clear that he wanted to be in the other man’s arms now. Nie Huaisang indulged him but made a great show of complaining and lamenting that the little boy was starting to get too heavy for him. A-Yuan appeared very amused by those protests, but grew serious when his eyes fell on Nie Huaisang’s neck where he still bore marks of the arm's attack.

“Nie-ge is hurt?”

Nie Huaisang laughed awkwardly, and balanced A-Yuan against his hip so he could free one hand and pull his collar tighter against his skin.

“That's nothing,” he said with a too wide smile. “Your Nie-ge is clumsy and fell into some bushes. Let's not talk about it, right? It's very embarrassing for poor Nie-ge.”

“Does it hurt?” A-Yuan insisted, reaching out towards some of the scabs that couldn't quite be covered by the fabric. Nie Huaisang grasped his wrist and stopped him before he could touch.

“The worst wound is to my pride,” he replied with false assurance. “A-Yuan, I love you but you're too heavy. Go back with your dad now.”

“Nie-ge looks tired,” A-Yuan commented as he was handed back to Lan Wangji. “Did Nie-ge and Father work a lot?”

What little cheerfulness Nie Huaisang had managed to muster thus far appeared on the verge of collapsing, and so Lan Wangji took it upon himself to come to his rescue.

“We were busy,” he explained. “We flew from very far and for many days. It can be tiring.”

None of it was a lie, even if it was far from the entire truth. It seemed to satisfy A-Yuan who even took it as his chance to ask whether he too would soon learn to fly on his sword. Lan Wangji thanked Hou Tianjian for her help, gave in to her request that Lan Jingyi come play in the Jingshi someday, and then the three of them left together. The rest of the day passed not unpleasantly, with A-Yuan detailing everything he had done since Lan Wangji had last seen him. It was painful to know that he had missed several weeks of his son's life, but A-Yuan did not appear to resent his absence too much this time. Somehow, that made it worse, as if the child had just grown to accept that it was normal for him to be left behind.

As the bell of curfew rang, there was a knock on the Jingshi's door. Lan Wangji, after checking that A-Yuan had truly fallen asleep, went to welcome his visitor. It was no surprise to find his brother on his doorstep. In truth, they probably should have gone to see him as soon as they had arrived in Cloud Recesses, but without ever saying it, Nie Huaisang and Lan Wangji had agreed that being with A-Yuan was more important. Their quest had met little success, but their son needed to know they hadn't abandoned him.

Lan Xichen took one look at the both of them, and his face hardened.

“I gather that things did not go as we had hoped?”

Nie Huaisang, who had been sitting at the table, a fan in one hand and a book in the other, flinched at the question. He dropped the book and immediately grasped to the qiakun bag that he still refused to be parted from, except for when Lan Wangji was forced to calm the resentful arm it contained.

“The situation is more complicated than expected,” Lan Wangji stated, inviting his brother to sit before launching himself into a short explanation of what had happened, wanting to spare Nie Huaisang from having to recount those events. Even just hearing an account of what had happened seemed nearly too much for his husband who grew paler and more closed off as the explanation reached its end.

Lan Xichen hardly fared any better.

“I cannot believe Jin Guangyao would go so far,” he whispered in a trembling voice. “Doing something so horrific to a man he once called his brother...”

Sitting next to him, Lan Wangji patted his brother's shoulder. After days of dealing with Nie Huaisang's worsening mood, it was almost shocking when the comforting gesture was not rejected.

“Maybe we can act even with this alone,” Lan Xichen suggested with a sigh. “It is not the strongest case we could be making, but...”

“I am not taking risks,” Nie Huaisang hissed, grasping his fan tightly. “This isn't enough proof. I cannot... I will not take the risk of accusing him now. He'll just find some new lies to throw around and look for ways to destroy the rest of Da-ge's body and then he'll have won. I can let him gloat a little longer with his perfect sect, his perfect wife and his perfect son. I'm patient. I'll find my brother's body, and that will be proof, and then nothing will stop me from avenging Da-ge.”

“Huaisang, it might take a long time,” Lan Xichen objected. “And you will have to interact with him frequently. Can you manage that?”

“Of course. Er-ge should know better than anyone that I'm quite good at not showing when things affect me.”

There was something nearly cruel to Nie Huaisang's smile as he said that, and he appeared to enjoy the way Lan Xichen tensed at the veiled accusation.

“We must use that other corpse finding spell,” Lan Wangji intervened to ease the tension and get them back on track. “If Huaisang is willing to teach me, I will go to Qinghe with A-Yuan and...”

“That won't be necessary,” Nie Huaisang cut him. “Not yet, anyway. That last spell is... cumbersome, it requires a lot of preparation and certain... elements to be gathered.” He snickered. “Actually, that spell is almost outright demonic cultivation, if I'm honest. I'd rather you not be there as I get it started, although I will need your high cultivation to really get it going when the time comes. But until then, I'd prefer if you stayed in the Cloud Recesses. It's A-Yuan's home, and yours as well.”

“You should not be left alone,” Lan Wangji objected.

Nie Huaisang shrugged, but did not try to deny that statement. That only served to worry Lan Wangji even further and judging by the look on his face, Lan Xichen felt similarly.

“Huaisang, we are on your side,” he said softly, reaching out to take his brother-in-law's hand. “Let us help you.”

Lan Xichen's hand was slapped away.

“This isn't your problem. Da-ge was my brother, my family, my responsibility,” Nie Huaisang snapped, before taking a deep breath and forcing himself to smile as he fanned himself. “I hope that didn't sound ungrateful. I am so, so thankful for your help, especially Wangji. But I have asked so much already, and this spell... it really is too much, considering Lan rules. I'd rather not bother you with the details, since they would displease you. Honestly, they displease me as well, and I know Da-ge disliked this spell, as did our father. But sometimes, there is no choice, is there?” Nie Huaisang chuckled lightly, his smile turning vicious again. “It's not like I can grab San-ge or Xue Yang and shake them until they tell me what they did to my brother.”

“Some of the purged demonic cultivators have been exiled, not killed,” Lan Xichen remarked. “Perhaps one of them might know something. Mo Xuanyu lives not far from Gusu, I could visit him.”

Nie Huaisang appeared to give that idea some thought, his fan stilling in his hand.

“Anyone who knew anything useful will have been killed,” he eventually remarked, hiding behind his fan. “And San-ge always said Mo Xuanyu was an idiot, so I'd be surprised if he had really dealt with any demonic cultivation. More likely, it's just a convenient excuse to get rid of another candidate to leadership of Lanling Jin. I'm ready to bet that stupid kid has been accused of every crime under the sun in Carp Tower. It is useless for Er-ge to go meet him, he will not have anything interesting to tell us. No, the spell is our only chance. It will find Da-ge... in time.”

Lan Xichen nodded, but appeared disappointed that his attempt to help had been so quickly rejected. Considering how little else he could do due to his position and the guilt he held regarding his part in the murder, Lan Wangji imagined his brother would have been glad to do anything to help in any way. Ultimately though, Nie Huaisang was right: Nie Mingjue had been his brother, and it was his duty to avenge him. They could offer their help, but he had to accept it.

Besides, although Lan Wangji was asked to continue living in the Cloud Recesses, so far Nie Huaisang had said nothing against visiting Qinghe. Even if he later objected to the idea, Lan Wangji would simply ignore him and go anyway. A-Yuan would surely start missing his Nie-ge too much otherwise, and Nie Huaisang loved the boy so much that he would not be able to protest once they were there.

Lan Wangji had made mistakes in the past, but he would not allow another friend of his to self destroy in the name of righteousness.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan xichen #lan wangji #mo dao zu shi #burn it down au #jau writes #this is another long chapter oops #but hey on the plus side we're definitely getting closer to wwx's return #which all things considered is only mildly to be counted as good news

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underatedcharactersunite · 5 years

Text

Opposite Attraction

Prompt; The Joker's scouting Bruce Wayne's penthouse, upon looking in a pair of binoculars he catches a glimpse of you. He's immediately obsessed with you, and he has to have you. So what happens when he takes you? Prompt; Hades and Persephone AU Pairing; Joker X Female Reader For; @helplessly-nonstop and @sporadic-fics writing challenge WordCount; 4,623 Warnings; Mentions of Kidnapping, violence, Angst, fluff

Being a florist in Gotham was considered peculiar. Why? People's first thought had always been the same. Why do people need a florist in Gotham? To make wreaths due to all the killings that keep happening.

In reality, your job was so much more than making wreaths for funerals. You prepared bouquets for the elderly gentlemen that came infrequently. Valentine's Day, Anniversaries and avid gardeners frequented the florist.

However, contrary to people's beliefs, you did have one peculiar client who required your services frequently. It wasn't funeral services. Bruce Wayne, the billionaire, playboy needed your services more frequently than anyone else.

Whether he was holding a party or a fundraiser, he relied on your services. Over the many years of working together, the two of you became excellent friends. You were one of the few people that Bruce knew he could trust and rely on whenever he was busy.

So when Bruce decides to throw a fundraiser in Harvey Dent's honour, you expect him to give you a couple of weeks notice. In Bruce's spontaneous nature, he gives you only two days. Most florists would have declined the job straight away. However, you knew that you could manage to pull some strings. It was often wise for you to name drop who you were trying to complete the work for. Bruce didn't need to know that.

However, everything wasn't as it seemed. As you prepared the many table centrepieces the day of the fundraiser, you couldn't fathom the danger it had put you in.

Nearby in an abandoned skyscraper, The Joker was scouting the place out. Gotham was beginning to rebel against the criminal underworld that made Gotham so unique. A city where anyone could be whoever they wanted. Ever since the likes of Batman and Harvey Dent showed up, it had been nearly impossible to conduct business. The Joker couldn't have that now, could he?

He was going to kidnap Harvey Dent. Then he intended to figure out a diabolical way to convince him to change his mind. The Joker wasn't foolish enough to believe he could just saunter up into Bruce Wayne's penthouse. So for the past several hours, The Joker had been scouting the place out.

Thus far, it had been pretty borning. Everyone was rushing around, attempting to prepare for tonight's events. That was, however, until the elevator door opened, revealing the most beautiful women The Joker had ever seen in his existence. She appeared to glide across the room as she placed the cardboard box on the ground gently. She spoke briefly to Bruce Wayne's butler, who began to call others to try and help her with something. Lifting the box, she began to make her way to a nearby table.

"Well Hello, beautiful, I wonder, if you will be attending tonight's entertainment," The Joker mumbled as he kept observing you as you began to work. It was quickly revealed that you were the florist. Each flower you attended to was held delicately with care.

Preparation was finally complete. It had always filled you with pride whenever a vision came together. Bruce allowed you to use the spare bedroom so you could change into a beautiful deep purple length gown. Essentially you had done the hard part. Now all you had to do was walk around the room and listen. One aspect you despised about these gatherings was just how much the wealthy loved to gloat. If they weren't talking about how expensive their latest car was it was their billion-dollar homes.

At least Bruce used his wealth for good. He was always donating to the Orphanages and the homeless. Not to mention his nightly activities, you'd discovered Bruce's biggest secret by accident. You'd made your way to Wayne manor when you received an email about another potential event. Just as you walked through the door, Bruce appeared looking beat up in his full tactical gear. It was certainly a shock to discover that one of your closest friends was The Dark Knight. You vowed with all of your heart that you'd keep his promise. It gave you a weird sense of pride whenever you saw a report of Batman taking another criminal off of the streets.

You were talking to one of Bruce's many associates. By talking you meant nodding as they boasted about their wealth. Mid conversation, Bruce pulls you away from the conversation without letting you excuse yourself from the conversation.

"What are you doing? Bruce stop! What's going on?" Bruce pulled you towards the back before he even attempted to respond to you. It must have been bad because he never would have done that in a normal circumstance.

"They've come to get him," Bruce replied simply as he pointed to the screen to witness Joker and his men currently in the elevator. Your heart began to race, your palms sweaty. The Joker was here. Everyone in the main room was currently in danger. The worst part was there was nothing anyone could do.

You and Rachel stood together in the back, room waiting for the inevitable. Waiting for the elevator doors rumbled as they opened. You observed as the Joker sauntered out of the elevator. He began to talk to the other partygoers adamant that he wanted to discover the location of Harvey Dent. He was constantly manhandling anyone that he fancied. Men, women, The Joker didn't care. As you stood observing him you became glad that you didn't understand what his motives were.

"You know I'll settle for his loved ones" The Joker commented, taking a single glance at Rachel. You already knew what she was thinking. She was going to confront The Joker. The plot was working through in her mind.

"We've got to do something." Rachel was right. Hopefully, Bruce was going to come out of nowhere anytime now. Taking one look at each other you, both stepped out of the room that you were hiding in.

"Okay stop!" The Joker stopped dead in his tracks. The beautiful deep purple gown that cascaded over your body provided him with a perfect image of your body. Shoving the man he was tormenting out of the way, he made his way over towards you and Rachel. Your entire body tensed up The Joker seemed currently unphased by Rachel's appearance instead he's attention to be entirely on you.

"Hello, beautiful," You stood your ground as he inched closer towards you, invading your personal space.

"Leave her alone." The Joker liked that you stood up to him. He liked that. For now, he'd have to depart your first meeting to attend to a pressing matter. He made a promise to himself that this was not the last time the two of you interacted.

"You must be Harvey's squeeze, and you are beautiful." The Joker pushed his back with the knife in his hand, licking his scared lips as he approached. The Joker realised that you weren't scared of him. You kept an eye on him of course, but you weren't looking at him in disgust.

"You look nervous. Is it the scars? Wanna know how I got them? Come here" As The Joker violently took ahold of Rachel's face. As he drew the knife ever closer towards, her face, you couldn't work out what to do. You weren't stupid enough to try and pick a fight with the Joker. Instead, you stood there feeling helpless against the Clown Prince, who held your close friend in his grasp.

"Look at me. So I had a wife, beautiful like you. Who tells me I worry too much, who tells me I oughta smile more, who gambles and gets in deep with sharks. Hey, one day they carve her face and we have no money for surgeries. She can't take it, I just wanna see her smile again. Hm. I just wanna her to know I don't care about the scars. So I stick a razor in my mouth and do this to myself. And you know what, she can't stand the sight of me. She leaves. Now I see the funny side. Now I'm always smiling. " You observed as the interaction took place. Ever since the Joker interrupted the fundraiser, he's told two different stories about the origin of his scars. You couldn't help but wonder what the truth was.

Rachel punches The Joker in the stomach as your body freezes. To your knowledge, no one has ever laid their hands on the Joker and been able to get away with it. Instead of getting angry, he breaks out in hysterical laughter. "You gotta little fight in you, I like that."

"Then your gonna love me" Out of no-where, Batman appears. Soon enough there are punches, jabs and kicks being thrown around everywhere. You and Rachel stand there together holding onto each other, both knowing just who was behind the mask. The Joker approaches the two of you, trying to pull Rachel out of your grasp. Holding on with all of your might, you attempt to keep a grip on your friend.

"Please don't hurt her," You plead as he manages to remove her out of your grip. The Joker could make whatever promise you desired about protecting you. However, protecting your friends wasn't an option. It was all apart of a bigger idea. As he pointed the gun at Rachel's temple, he couldn't quite look within your direction.

"Drop the gun!”

"Sure you just take off your little mask and show us all who you are. Hm" The Joker takes his gun as he blows a hole in the window you realise what he's going to do. He's going to throw Rachel out of the window.

"Let her go"

"Very poor choice of words." As he drops Rachel out of the window, he turns and looks at you as you stare at him in utter disbelief.

I'll be seeing you around beautiful" You froze as Joker's chilling words echoed through your mind, what did he mean? Unless he was going to interrupt yet another fundraiser or a charity event. Surely that was it, right?

Ever since the encounter with The Joker, you kept an extra eye out for anything peculiar. For several weeks, absolutely nothing happened you almost forgot about The Joker's warnings. There was not a threat insight. Life became mundane once more, serving customers, opening up, closing after a long day.

This goes on until one day as you begin to arrange the flower arrangements for the day, With your back, turned you can't see the man coming behind you in a ski mask, gripping you tightly as he placed a rug over your mouth forcing you to pass out automatically.

As your body fell limp into the man's arms, he scoops you up bridal carrying you into the large white van without so much as a care in the world. Resting you onto his lap as he sits down, he shots the driver a warning glance. Moments previously he'd observed the driver checking you out. That move was unacceptable he'd gladly blow the guys head off. Pulling off his ski mask, the Clown Prince revealed himself. You were finally his, quickly pushing your hair out of your face, he placed a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

Meanwhile, Bruce had come into check-in on how you were. He's been doing this every day for the past couple of weeks ever since you mentioned that the Joker had directly threatened you. Each day he'd brought you something different first it was coffee and then it was that book you had desired to read.

When he pushed open the door, he expected you to come right out from the back. There was nothing no noise from you working in the back while it was quiet. Something's wrong. The doors have been left wide open the doors aren't locked, the flowers haven't been placed inside. He knows you haven't closed the shop for the day. He knows you haven't gone to get lunch since you always order in.

Bruce enters the back swiftly he knows you have several CCTV camera's in the back. Next protocol was to call Alfred he'd be able to access the surveillance systems right away. Upon hearing that you've been captured, he has a pretty good idea on how the culprit was. Hearing that the van had a number plate was music to his ears and instructed Alfred to run the plates immediately.

Just before Bruce left, he decided to close down properly. After everything you've done for him the past, present and future the least he could do was make sure you had a business to come home to. On his way to his car, he called his locksmith to get down here immediately so the place could be locked up securely.

For many weeks afterwards, Bruce went out at night as the Dark Knight. Batman was looking for you. Every crook, every henchman was a potential avenue. Bruce made sure to target the men who had squealed to him in the past yet, they didn't know where you were. Bruce was desperate for an answer. So one day he decided to change up his previous tactic. Instead of going out as the masked crusader he went out as the billionaire playboy. The homeless and low-level crooks recognise him immediately. Money talks so the people who wouldn't talk to the Batman will talk to Bruce Wayne for a price of course.

With the people willing to squeal and reveal all they know, there are also people reporting back to The Joker upon every ounce of new news that they discover. No matter how small or how large Joker knew what was going on. It began to feel as if the two were going in circles, knowing each other's plans but never being able to understand any of it. Batman was after Joker and Joker were determined to make sure that the two collided whenever the time was right.

Whilst Brue was out searching high and low for you the Joker had brought you to an abandoned building where he was currently keeping base. He knew that now The Batman was attempting to locate his location, he'd have to move the both of you soon.

Your safety was now paramount to him. The Joker was, even more, kill friendly, anyone who he believed was a threat to you, would die and die painfully. For now, he wouldn't worry about that. You were due to wake up any second, and The Joker was excited. He'd brought you a decent mattress with a duvet. So you'd be comfortable when you awoke from your slumber.

Your eyes fluttered open, the ache in your head, barely there. Looking around you, were no longer outside. In-fact now you were inside in an abandoned building of some sorts. Your hand presses down on the gentle fabrics of the duvet on top of your body.

"Well, sleeping beauty is finally awake." Your head snapped up towards the location of the voice. The Joker had taken you. Keeping his promise that the two of you would see each other once more.

"What do you want from me?" You said through gritted teeth, everything was suddenly flooded back to you. The shop was currently wide open, for anyone to enter as they pleased.

"I want nothing from you per se. Let me ask you, have you ever been in one of those situations where you can't get someone out of your head. I think you call it to love at first sight. You see I saw you before you saw me, I was scouting the place when I saw you creating those table arrangements. I couldn't get you out of my head. For weeks now, I've been unable to focus because you weren't with me." You're confused as you observe the man in front of you. The man at the fundraiser was ruthless and aggressive, and now here he was in front of you pouring his heart out? He's staring at you like a lovesick puppy.

"What happens to me now?" You've very aware of the dangerous situation you're currently in. The Joker wasn't a man to be messed with. He could be callous and cruel.

"Nothing bad. Wherever I'll be, you'll be. I'll let you in on a little secret I don't trust a single person, currently working for me. I'm going to teach you how to protect yourself so they know not to mess with you, whether I'm here or not." The entire time he's running his knife gently across your face as you wither in fear. You kept your eyes locked with his deep chocolate brown seeing a peculiar sense of kindness mixed in with everything else.

"Now get some sleep while I fetch you some food. You must be exhausted from your adventure today."

This starts some sort of routine between the two of you. The Joker brings you in food, teaches you some self-defence, uses the bathroom all in one room. This was your life now, Joker comes in to talk to you and eventually you begin to talk more.

Being a florist meant you were frequently sociable with other people. So, in the end, it became vital for you to talk to him. At first it had been extremely difficult, he was one of your closest friends arch-nemesis. On the other hand, the entire time you had been with him, he had never raised a hand to you. Never gone to hurt you and made time with you no matter you said to him.

One morning you wake up, the moment you realise you're not alone in your bed you freak out. Moving away as far away from the mattress as possible you look up realising it's just J. This wasn't just J, appearing inspection you realised he wasn't wearing his usual clown make up. Curiosity got the better of you as you crawled over to him. Joker's shock is an understatement. His eyes are locked onto your every movement. You're not disgusted by them or repulsed, that curious little spark he sees in your eyes relaxes him instantly. Ever so slowly you place your hand onto the edges of his mouth tracing the lining of his scars.

"How did you get your scars?" Joker observes as your hands are lingering on his face. He wants to hold your hands there forever. Within the same moment, he doesn't want to push you either. Deciding to make a move of his own, he holds your hand in a place delicately.

"When I was entering Gotham's criminal underworld, I wasn't as powerful or as dominating as I am now. Just a man with a clown gimmick. I was just starting, hustling low ranking mobsters out of their money, until one day I met a mob boss named Burke. At the time he ruled Gotham's Underworld. Being the big shot that I thought I was I challenged Burke broke into the warehouse where he kept all of his money. Over one million dollars I took from him because I thought I could get away with it. I didn't have the backing that I do now. People all over the place hear my name and are terrified. Back then Burke was that guy, he found me with ease. The guys who worked with me were the biggest bunch of cowards. He finds me, tortures me for over a week. Takes his knife like I do now and cuts my face into the smile. He left me after doing these I think he thought I'd die from the cuts. I was close to it, but by some miracle, I managed to get through it stitched my own face up. It's when I leant to not target the head first you want the victim to feel everything you're inflicting on them. So now I'm always smiling. Not that I need these whenever I'm around you, those are real." You feel sorry for him, the pain that he must have endured must have been horrendous. You cup his face gently running your thumb over his scars softly. Joker's amazed that someone as innocent as you care enough to touch him tenderly.

"So I've got a surprise for you. Come on." Joker takes ahold of her hand pulling her up. Their hands never part from each other. Even when the two enter the new room one in which you've never been in before.

"Ta-Da. I had someone break into your house, make a list of all your favourite things." You glance through the bags to realise everything was here. Your favourite clothing, make up brands, skincare. Everything you could have asked for was loaded into these bags. In a second your arms were wrapped tightly around J, in the beginning, his entire body was tense until he began to relax into the warm embrace mirroring the touch and wrapping his arms around you.

Joker couldn't believe it as several days went by. You were comfortable. As you roamed the building, they were currently living in, you showed more interest in his world. If you didn't understand something, you asked about it. You got up and dressed every day to see what he was up too. You asked him to stay with you at night. All of this made Joker's heart swell, could you perhaps fall in love with him the way he loved you.

Everything was going so beautifully, until one day J comes in panicked. You instantly rush towards him as your heartbeat fastens. He's never panicked. Behind him, two men are dragging another. J's face explains everything you need to know, he's betrayed him in some sort of way. J pulls out a knife and begins to torture the man to death slowly. You have seen this several times since J decided to take you. It no longer bothered you, did you agree with murder? No, but your feelings for J clouded that. There is good in his heart and that's the side you choose to see above all else. The second the torture is over, everyone is in complete chaos.

"Go pack as much as you can as quickly as you can." You run as fast as you can to your isolated room, gathering you can as quickly as possible, shoving everything into bags. Then suddenly the connection snapped in her brain, Bruce was coming to get her. At one time or another, it would have been a relief, however now your exactly where you wanna be. Of course, you wish you could spend more time around nature and flowers but you want to be with J at the same time. Running towards J with the bags in your arms, taking ahold of your hand tightly, he leads you to a large white van throwing your bags into the back before following the bags. Once settled inside he wraps his arms around you tightly.

"Do you know why we have to leave?"

"More than you know"

Whilst everything is purely chaotic, Batman is currently in pursuit of the white van that he knows holds you. Placing a small explosive at the end of the truck, he waits as the truck flips over in an instant. Bruce hears the distinctive scream coming from your lips. Wasting no time, he rips the sliding door off of the back of the truck. Grabbing The Joker out the truck, he begins to punch Joker repeatedly. Each punch to The Joker's face is personal, he took someone he cares about away from him. Bruce and Joker are going at it like two rabid dogs forgetting about you who is currently remaining the truck.

Laying there, your eyes fluttered open a distinctive busy noise pounded your ears. Everything on your body suddenly feels like it's been weighed down on. Your body is battered and bruised as you attempted to get up. One try. Two tries. Three tries. The determination forced you to get up, stumbling out of the turned over van.

"Stop...Stop...Stop!" Observing the two men who meant a lot to you fighting in such a brutal way made you feel sick. You weren't able to approach them by a few mislay steps before you fell. Bruce makes his way towards you immediately using a new piece of technology to examine your body to check for any hidden injuries.

"Your safe now," Bruce spoke to you softly laying a hand on your arm.

"I was never in any danger, to begin with." The mask might have hidden Bruce's face, but you knew the confusion that was currently plastered all over it.

"He's tortured you to make you believe that. The Joker is not a good person. Your tired and traumatised, you have no idea what you're saying right now." You sit there trying to remain focused, Bruce is lying. He doesn't understand the Joker as you do.

"I've been living with him for months and he's never raised a hand to me or hurt me in any fashion."

"What about your life? You can't have everything you've built if you decide to be with him." You're sick and tired of being told about how to feel.

"She can have her life back, whatever she wants. As long as she promises to come back to me at the end of the day." Bruce watches the interaction between the two of you. The Joker acting like a human being rather than an animal.

"You know I can't support this," Bruce tells you softly. Your struggling to focus on his face but you understand. Bruce wouldn't be Bruce if he didn't.

"After everything, I do for you, give me this, please. You don't have to support what I want, you don't have to care but you have to trust my decisions and what's best for me."

"Fine, but you have to go to the hospital." You don't argue as Bruce carries you away. Friendship had always been a two-way street.

Later that night, as you laid in your hospital bed you realised how lucky you were to be alive. Your body was smothered in injuries, thanks to Bruce's small explosion. Spending time with Joker forced you to become hyperaware of your surroundings. So when you realise someone's sitting in the dark corner of the room your heart rate begins to increase. When the person comes into the light you realise it's Joker. You attempt to slow your breathing. J takes your hand immediately.

"You're going to get caught." You reprimanded him, but in true Joker style he shrugs it off.

"It's all about fun." The comment doesn't quite reach Joker's eyes. As you attempt to lean up your quickly pushed back down onto the bed gently.

"Your hurt." Instead, he leans forward to your level.

"I need to know if it's true what you said to the Batman, do you want your life back?" You nod but weakly lays a hand on his face traces the marks on his scars.

"I do. But I want to be with you too." J didn't hesitate this time, kissing you with all your might. The kiss isn't slow or gentle but passionate and rough. You knew however he was still holding back.

"You can work and live your life as much please but you have to promise me at the end of the day you return home to me and that you always wear that bracelet and no matter what you don't take it off. That way everyone knows that your mine and I am yours. I'll even let you pick something to prove that I'm yours." The two of you shared a moment briefly just gazing into each other's eyes.

"Could you imagine if I just surprised you at work, your customers would have a fit" Some of your customers would definitely have a fit about your new boyfriend and your life was about to change however it was going to be an incredible adventure.

#fallmultifandomchallenge #Joker imagine #Joker imagines #Joker oneshot #Joker one shot #dc imagine #dc imagines #dc oneshot #dc one shot #Joker heath ledger imagine #joker heath ledger imagines #joker heath ledger one shot #joker heath ledger oneshot

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thisselflovecamebacktome · 3 years

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My personal connection with Taylor’s discography, part three: Evermore

Basically this is just a series I’m doing where I write down my feelings on what each of the Taylor songs means to me personally. Part one was my relationship with It’s Time To Go, which you can find here and part two was Right Where You Left Me which you can find here.

Before we get started I want to give a quick trigger warning that this particular post is going to talk about sexual violence, suicidality, and revenge porn, so please keep that in mind if you’re someone with a history of those topics.

Anyway, with that being said, this is how I personally relate to this song.

Evermore

As a whole, this song feels like a recollection of all of my darkest times as well as a reminder that even though it felt like those moments would define the rest of my life, I have reached a point where they no longer do. It is also a good reminder that timing and love are such important aspects in life and sometimes you have to trust and rely on them to get you through the rough times, even when there’s no solid evidence that it will work out, because that’s all you have.

Gray November, I've been down since July

2011 was an absolute shitshow for me. It was my final year of high school (year 10 where I live) and two of my closest friends had just moved across the country. Likewise, I had two friends die in the space of a month, one from a brain tumor and one from a suicide that I witnessed. And to top it all off, it was when my family issues really started ramping up. Just when I thought that I was moving forward and starting to recover and find my footing from all of that, July 3rd happened. In short, on July 3rd, I non-consensually lost my virginity, a concept that was very important to me at the time as a Christian teen, to multiple men. As a result, I spent the next year and a half in a depressive and suicidal state over the events of that night and regressing the progress I had made from the other bad things that had happened in 2011.

Motion capture put me in a bad light

A few weeks after the events of July 3, I had found out that those events had been filmed and distributed on porn websites. It took almost a year and a bunch of legal action to get it down and I remember going to school each day in fear that one of the boys were going to announce that they watched it, or worse yet, I would be called to the psychologist’s office because one of the teachers had seen it, and the one area that I could be “my usual self” was going to be taken away from me.

I replay my footsteps on each stepping stone trying to find the one where I went wrong. Writing letters addressed to the fire

This line feels very reminiscent of my relationship with my Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in general to be honest. Like through triggers, nightmares and just general feelings of not being able to move past it, I was forced to consistently revisit both the trauma of my friend’s suicide and the gang rape. As a result, I used writing, both fictional and not, as a mechanism to discover and express my emotions and try to figure out how a “good girl” (yes I did have a lot of internalised misogyny issues at the time before someone says it) had gotten herself in that position. At the end of the day, all of the pieces I wrote ended up as unsaved drafts on my first laptop, but it was a very therapeutic and “healthy” way to figure out what had happened and how I felt.

And I was catching my breath staring out an open window catching my death

The events of July 3 made me agoraphobic to the point of not leaving my house for the remainder of the holidays I had and only leaving when I did because my parents forced me to go back to school. It took another two years to feel comfortable outside my home and to this day, certain environments (loud places, night times etc) still make me very anxious. It genuinely felt like I was going to die in that room, and though unhealthy, feeling the icy cold breeze of Winter nights on my skin was the beginning of my deliberately unhealthy habits as it felt like the only time I felt anything at all. This later translated into actions like excessive drug/alcohol use, self harm and forming bonds with people I know weren’t good for me so it also reminds me of sticking my head out of car windows if I’m honest.

And I couldn't be sure I had a feeling so peculiar that this pain would be for evermore

This is pretty self explanatory. At the time it really did feel as if that pain was all there was of my life anymore, and as a result, I almost ended my life at seventeen.

Hey December, guess I'm feeling unmoored. Can't remember what I used to fight for

Moving forward in my life, this line reminds me of the destruction of my family. Yeah, yeah, it always comes back to this I know. A warning for anyone who is already sick of me talking about my family in these posts, all up there are 39 songs in Taylor’s current discography that remind me of them so it’s going to be a very common theme and you should leave now if it bugs you. But as I was saying, this line basically encompasses what I feel about that whole situation and the damage it did now. Like there’s this part of me that feels like I don’t have a good, stable place in my current reality and just feel disconnected because like fighting to keep us together was literally 23 years of my life and now it’s just not because things didn’t work out. And because things didn’t work out and somehow (barring my mother) everyone is surviving just fine from what it seems, it just feels like that fight was not worth it and I can’t see why I stood my ground for so long anymore.

I rewind the tape but all it does is pause on the very moment all was lost

Despite knowing the signs of my family falling apart were present long before we fell apart in 2015, and certainly more before I accepted it in 2017, it is still impossible for me to comprehend that. All I can think about is that moment when it hit me that I was going to have a future without a family of any kind. Like none of the signs leading up to that live rent free in my mind in the way my father’s last words to me and the devastating realisation that I had been delusional for ever thinking things would work out does.

Sending signals to be double crossed

Basically just a reminder that my family fell apart not because I didn’t try hard enough or didn’t voice myself enough, it was because those signals weren’t received because the people who were meant to receive them didn’t want to and sent them out into the abyss in order to fulfil their objecting desires.

And I was catching my breath, barefoot in the wildest winter catching my death and I couldn't be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar that this pain would be for evermore

When I cut off my father in late 2017 after accepting him, my sister nor extended family wanted to reunite with my mother, brother or I as a family, I was in a moment of time where I didn’t have time to fall apart. I was in the middle of a university semester, dealing with a manipulative acquaintance tearing apart one of my friendships, and dealing with my mother’s far more concerning suicidality. But as a result of continuously trying to fake it til I made it, I fell apart and 2018 led to almost a full year of me feeling as suicidal as I had in 2011. And while I was now better equip to deal with that thanks to therapy, there was definitely an overarching feeling of “well if I can ‘recover’ and feel great just for this to come back years later, what’s the point of getting better? I’m never going to recover from this” for the better part of the year.

Can't not think of all the cost and the things that will be lost. Oh, can we just get a pause? To be certain we'll be tall again

After my family fell apart in 2015, nearly every moment of my time was dedicated to three things; my mother’s mental illnesses, working to make sure we didn’t become homeless and my university degree. As a result of that and issues my partner had to overcome, the relationship fell through, But as part of that, we ended up meeting up a few months after and discussing the idea of getting back together. However, while there was nothing more that I wanted at the time, realistically I knew that it wasn’t the time. The same issues were still occurring and unlikely to change in the short run and I knew deep down we’d end up resenting each other if we went head first back into a romantic relationship without resolving those issues. And quite frankly, after everything I had lost, I felt like I couldn’t lose him too. So I asked him to wait to give us our best chance at a future together.

Whether weather be the frost or the violence of the dog days. I'm on waves, out being tossed. Is there a line that I could just go cross?

There are two scenarios I think of when considering this line.

Following the above, the first I feel like this was pretty much how my partner felt after my family fell apart. He was suddenly thrown into a rough (potentially triggering considering he lost his family too in his childhood) situation where he was barring the grunt of my reaction to the situation without any type of benefit given I wasn’t even spending any time with him or considering his feelings because I was so wrapped up in my own. And in that, he was just trying to find a point where he could help me and our relationship would be on good terms.

And then, again, it feels like 2018 for me personally over again. Like I spent every day feeling like I was drowning and just trying to get through to the next and just trying to find that one switch that would make me feel non-suicidal again.

And when I was shipwrecked I thought of you. In the cracks of light I dreamed of you. It was real enough to get me through. I swear, you were there

Throughout 2018, there was nothing physical that I could hold onto to get me through the days. Instead, I had to really lean into my friendships, many of which didn’t live in the same city I did so couldn’t be physically present, and the hope that one day this would all pass and I’d be living my imagined best life with my partner. And it did, and I thank god everyday that it did.

And I was catching my breath, floors of a cabin creaking under my step and I couldn't be sure, I had a feeling so peculiar this pain wouldn't be for evermore

November 2nd, 2018. Perhaps some of you recognise that date as a certain Reputation Sydney show date, as you should. Look, I’m not one for saying music saves lives. I find that far too simplistic and takes away from the effort the person made to save their own life. But my god did that night make me want to save my own life. After almost a full year of feeling suicidal, something clicked in me while watching one of my closest friends (who ironically wasn’t meant to be there, another friend dropped out) screaming out to lyrics to the Long Live/New Year’s Day mashup and 22. And for the first time in a very long time, I felt loved and appreciated to the point where I stopped missing everyone I had been missing and overall just felt happy. It was genuinely as if I had found that switch and from that day have bounced back and not felt anywhere near as terrible as I did in 2018 or 2011. And you know, while those days will probably come back, after defeating them twice, I know that any days like it that are in my future won’t last and ultimately I will be happy.

#evermore album #evermore #taylor swift #about me

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missielee · 4 years

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Passion

Day 1&2: Fish & Wisp

Fish – such a fascinating creature

It was Olivia’s first passion as well as pet

When she was seven, her dad took her and her sister to the aquarium downtown.

It was magnificent, she said

It was like a different world, she said

Engulfed by a singular color blue, she was mesmerized by all the moving little diamonds around her

Colorful scales glimmered in the tank lights, felt like thousands stars on the sky

They moved oh so gracefully, bubbles curved along their fins

It was like a water dance.

That was at least ten years ago, little Olivia has already turned into a beautiful young woman who is passionate about the ocean life, specifically sea creatures. Fascinated by them, she indulged hours in books on her dad’s shelves and pursued her dream to become, well, quoted on quote “Fish”.

Fish is a peculiar animal. They live in water and absorb oxygen through their respiration system which is the gills. Their body is covered in scales worked as camouflage, protection and swimming aid. Their fins flutter through the current as they sway their body elegantly. What could possibly better than being a fish, swimming freely in the water blue?

“I prefer whale better” Janet voiced her opinion out loud

“What? That swimming elephant? No way!” Olivia eyed her friend in disbelief “That’s not even a fish!”

“It’s a sea creature too so it sorta counts. Also, FYI, that is super mean. That’s probably equivalent to pointing out someone is obese in fish language.” Janet rolled her eyes, continued eating her lunch

“Whale and dolphin are mammals, so not a fish. Beside, would you really want to be a whale? Big, giant blue whale?”

“Uh, whale is my spiritual animal, therefore, yes I’ll be the big giant and BEAUTIFUL blue whale” a glare was directed right back to Olivia “At the very least, I won’t get eaten by other species”

“Other than human, sure!” Olivia sipped her water “You do know that a fair amount of whale was hunted for meat and oil in the past right?”

“Whale hunting was a thing?”

“Yeah, it was like a thing back in 1800s. Products made from whale, mainly oil, are incredibly valuable. A barrel of sperm-whale oil can even went up to 1500$ per barrel” Olivia shrugged “But it wasn’t used much nowadays because many better resource appeared: like Kerosene, vegetable oil, petrol”

“Uh huh, you know a lot about whale for someone who just insult it” Janet smirked upon her “You like whale too, don’t you ~”

“Said the one who have their nose in Moby Dick like twenty times or something. I only know some of the basic thing about whale”

“Hey, that book is a masterpiece! Brave men against the nature! Battling fearlessly! Unlike you and you’re fish tank obsession.”

Olivia couldn’t bother to say back. It’s true that she’s have an itsy bitsy infatuation with fish, but she couldn’t explain it why she adores them that much. Some have told her she could become mermaid like those performs in aquarium shows but Olivia refused. Even though it was her dream to become of them, she absolutely hates mermaid/merman in generally because mermaid doesn’t swim like a fish does, according to her logically research. Since mermaid have different anatomy, their swim movement is up-and-down, which isn’t the normal side-to-side like fish does. In addition to that, mermaid eats fish, explained her dislike towards becoming one. She understood that it’s normal to pray on one to another in the animal kingdom but she cannot stand the idea of feasting on such pretty shiny thing. ‘I mean people might have evolved enough to even eat gold but not diamond, right?’

It’s not the first time she realized turning into a fish is practically impossible. Despite her fascination of the marine life, she apparently have Thalassophobia, which prevents her from any activities near the open water. It was upsetting to Olivia, having to spend her life in pictures capturing a small part of the vast water part. It’s like try to play puzzles with endless pieces and they all have the same shade of color. No amount of therapy could help her reach the board of the ship, the closest she could ever get is the lightly wet sand shore. Moreover, there’s an unexplainable feeling when she reaches the ocean, she hears it whisper her name in sad serenity. And on a more frightening term, it always seems to seep closer and closer to her.

“Livvy? You’re spacing out again. Come on, we’ll be late for class” she snapped out of her daze, turn to see her friend already finished packing her belongings

Checking her phone, 2:45 and her class started at 3, she needed to hurry.

“Oh I almost forgot. You’ll come to the Jake’s party this evening, right?”

“Beach party? Not so sure, you know how I feel about it”

“It’s just on shore. I’ll be there too. Don’t worry, if anyone tries to drag you near the water then they’ll have to go through me” Janet smirked. Three years in Aikido is enough to take anyone down, not to mention she was a three times champion of the city, as if that isn’t intimidating enough but it ensures Olivia enough to have a good time by the sand.

“But this evening already? I thought it’s on 13th?”

“Today is the 13th, Goldfish. Did you fall head over heel for Jake so far that you forgot to check for the actual date?”

“I might have mistaken a Friday for a Saturday. But that doesn’t make me a goldfish! And goldfish have good memory! The five seconds attention span is a myth!” Olivia exclaimed

“I guess your attention span is probably so filled with Jake that you can only remembered that he has invited you~”

The two kept bickering as they walked each other to class, like all the other days.

It was around eight when Olivia and Janet arrived at the party, and it sure is a lively one. The torch lit up the area but it was no match to the people’s dancing along the live music band. Sound of chatters mixed with the awry waves of the sea like a symphony. Olivia immediately spotted Jake in the crowd by the barbecue, greeting newcomers and grilled the ribs with his cheerful expression bright like sunlight. Janet could guess what millions thoughts going through her bestie’s mind as she pulled her over to the food court.

“Hey Jake, nice buns you got there. Mind if we have a taste?” Jake laughed wholeheartedly

“Why I wouldn’t mind you two lovely ladies to have a taste of my delicious buns, of course!” A wink sent towards them as Olivia reddened

“I-I-I brought some cakes from Rosie’s! A-And I think it’s a great party!” Jake took the box from Olivia and gave both of them a small dish

“I love Rosie’s cake! This is great for desert! Thanks Olivia!”

And needless to say, Janet had to play the waitress and lead a very blush female to a table while holding two dish of steak.

“Oh Janet! Did you see him smiling at me? He’s so nice!” Janet have a gulp of soda after settling down and listening to her friend’s love rant.

“Eat your steak Olivia or I’ll help you know how it’s like to be fish”

“Alright, no need to do that. I’m not some toddler, you know” Olivia sulked and cut a piece

Olivia notice a newspaper left next to her seat, seemed like it was today’s news. Curious, she decided to have a look since Janet had went to get a second plate.

“BREAKING NEW: SUCCESSFULLY FOUND THE ONLY SURVIVOR OF THE S.S HARVEY INCIDENT

Olivia Breston, eldest daughter of the Breston family and a bright student at Morrington University, was discovered barely breathing and unconscious on floating remains of the unfortunate ship by the fishermen of Devonne port. Lifeboat was sent immediately to revive and take Olivia to the closest hospital. 17h28 of 13th October, we received news …”

‘No way. Olivia… Breston… That’s… that’s my name!? I… I am dead?’

Janet returned back with a joyful meal in hand.

“Man! Jake sure have a knack for cooking! You’re a lucky one, Olivia!” Olivia didn’t respond, still deep in shock “Olivia?”

Olivia handed her the paper. Janet frowned before realization hit her. Surprisingly, she’s quite calm to react.

“So you found out. Any memory came back?”

Olivia shivered, shook her head.

“I survived, did I? So why… am I here? On this day, I was supposed to be found? But no?”

Janet moved next to her, sat down and comforted the confused girl.

“Do you want to know? Truly want to know?”

A silence between made the air thickened before Olivia gave a nod, reluctantly. Janet rubbed her shoulders soothingly.

“What you read is true. You are the only survivor of the S.S Harvey ship, a research ship directed by your father. You accompanied him on a field trip on 19th June when the ship got caught in bad weather, which later escalated into a sea storm. There was no news from the ship until…”

Janet pointed at the date and then at what supposedly to be warehouse, rather than what’s beside it. Needn’t to guess, Olivia could tell what Janet was trying to show her. But it didn’t explain everything that’s happening at the moment.

“I assume you’re wondering what’s happening right now. Care to take a blind guess?” Janet lighted a cig, savored that nicotine taste on the tip of her tongue before let out a wisp of white smoke.

“I died?”

“Eh, close enough. A coma. If you died, you wouldn’t be here to chit chat Livvy”

“Coma? But then, where am I?”

“Well, some might say it’s your subconscious so let just assume that it is. You didn’t die from the incident but drowning left you stranded in your brain, that’s all I could say.” Janet led her to the water. It seeped up close to their feet but it didn’t frighten Olivia no more

“I’m the fish of my own tank” Janet chuckled

“So you do remember”

“Yeah, I just got bits and bits of it. I chose to stay here, because there’s nothing out there for me, no one is waiting for me. At least I achieved my dream here, well, in a way” Olivia stepped back to clean sand, heart ached as she turned to Janet “Because in here I can see the one I held dear”

Janet tossed the burnt butt cig into the cool sand “Old habits die hard. You know, yet you still want to stay?”

“There’s no point going out there. I rather stay here”

“Alright, don’t keep Jake waiting on the dance floor.” Olivia headed back, blushed to the ear “After tonight, it’ll all be a bad dream”

“Wake up anew right?”

“Totally, Goldfish” Olivia’s shadow faded as now only Janet stood alone, water raised above her ankle. The way the ocean surging was unusual than before. There were whispers, cries lingered in the air. Moaned in pain. The thunder struck faraway on the surface warned the upcoming omen.

“Time’s running out, Olivia”

--- Missielee ---

#inktober #inktober2020 #fish #wisp

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craniumculverin · 5 years

Text

Ripper!AU Characters

A while back the ever talented @donc-desole drew some great art of their Bloodborne Ripper!AU, and I fell in love with it instantly. I’ve been slowly working out a story and background for this AU since then. These character summaries were one of the first things I started writing and have added to and kept up to date as the story develops. Most of these folks are tertiary and some may not even have a role in the story by the time I’m done, but I wanted to figure out how most of the NPCs fit into this universe.

Also, if you’re a fan Des’ OCs as well you’ll notice a certain doctor’s name. ;)

Alfred - An up-and-comer that’s relatively new to Yharnam. Gentleman, academic theologian, fleeting soldier, amateur pugilist, literal lady killer. He’s currently working on his dissertation to complete his theology doctorate after an extensive, years-long mentorship that equated an education up to that point. It’s slow going given his preoccupation with stalking about in the dead of night, but he persists; for his own fervid pursuit, as well as to follow-through on the wishes of his late mentor and benefactor. The reproachful scholars at Byrgenwerth University are particularly interested in his enigmatic past - a topic he’s all too happy to leave be. He’s taken strongly to one of Yharnam’s aristocracy, much to her vexation. And fear of mutilation.

Annalise Cainhurst - A life-long resident of New Pthumeria and one of its few remaining that can truly claim to be of noble blood. She holds an unknown amount of power in Yharnam’s activities, and may have been involved in the politics of the recent civil war. In fact very few seem to know what it she does, though everyone seems to know not to mess with the sole heiress of the Cainhurst nobles - other than Alfred that is. When not pulling strings, she’s taken to writing articles in the local paper under a pseudonym, and is quite popular with cult naysayers. The higher echelons of the local Church of Healing cult apparently despise her; maybe something to do with her pastime? Or perhaps her evident immortality?

Percival Hewlett- A doctor that practices in Yharnam, and likely Alfred’s only real, albeit begrudging friend. A rather eccentric and introverted man that was a respectable medical practitioner long before his move to the city. Stories of Byrgenwerth University’s ventures into the medical frontier proved tantalizing enough that he left his established practice in London, thus leaving behind his own share of secrets. Like most of Yharnam’s foreign doctors he’s had to take up a position in the local cult - however, like most of said doctors, he sees it simply as a means of gaining access to the Church's resources. Alfred trusts him fully, and in turn Percy has taken to minding his more self-destructive habits - or perhaps more accurately, taken an interest in studying him.

Siegward - Alfred’s beloved canine companion. An English mastiff pampered to the utmost degree and treated better than Alfred treats himself at times. Despite multiple outings every day he still carries more bulk than any other dog in Yharnam. While under his mentor’s tutelage, Alfred saved him from an irate nobleman whose prized bitch was bred with the wrong male, Sig being a part of that litter. Since then he’s been the closest companion Alfred’s ever had, thus his rather extreme protectiveness of the animal. Red meat is often a part of this dog’s diet, despite his master’s lack of visits to any local butchers…

Iosefka - A New Pthumerian doctor who was one of very few allowed by the Church to travel beyond the country's borders before they were opened to the outside world. During her time spent abroad she happened to meet Percy Hewlett - he was one of but a handful in England that took her completely seriously as a medical practitioner, not only because she's a woman but also her "unconventional" practices. His acceptance and their shared research interests quickly forged a friendship that has lasted since. It's Iosefka's clinic and row house that Percy rents, and her good word that continues to ease tensions between he and other Church members. The two meet from time to time for tea and a chat, usually about their studies or more annoying compatriots.

Djura - The man every dog-loving Yharnamite knows - or hates, in Alfred’s case. The seemingly homeless, one-eyed native veteran earns his keep around town as both a dog walker and sitter, whether it’s requested or not. Many of the pooches he looks after never quite make it back to living with their owners, yet oddly most don’t seem to have a problem with that; the man takes care of every dog he “shelters” as if it were his own flesh and blood. He’s taken up residence in one of the larger empty buildings of Old Yharnam, same as where he keeps his multitude of kennels. An overall helpful and well-known old coot, he seems to be more knowledgeable than he lets on, in a number of areas.

Eileen, aka the Crow - Nothing much is known about the woman other than this: she acts only at night, kills those that deserve it, and has never once been caught. A vigilante of sorts, she’s taken it upon herself to erase those that aid the ever growing crime-rate in Yharnam. Thus far only murderers, abusers, kidnappers, and similar ilk have been targeted, so many Yharnamites are content to let her go about her business. Alfred, on the other hand, has had to be very careful during his night time escapades. Annalise has also had to deal with the Crow’s snooping - or at least her cousin has…

The Crow of Cainhurst - A mysterious man that Alfred has never seen unmasked, he's apparently a “distant relative” or “cousin” of Annalise. He comes and goes silently from her manor seemingly as he sees fit, though nearly always converses with her before leaving. As it is, he likely carries out his mistress’s more unsavory dealings and orders. He has no quarrels with sharing his disgust and mistrust of Alfred’s attempted courtship of Annalise, earning him Alfred’s utter disdain. Neither ever dare to raise a finger against the other however, as the noblewoman all but demanded they play nice. The only association he has to the other Crow in Yharnam is a bitter and historied rivalry.

Gascoigne - A retired clergyman and soldier that assists at the Healing Church chapel near his family’s home. Many believe him to be in some official capacity since he’s so often seen there, but really he’s the groundskeeper more than anything. He left the clergy long ago - originally in New Pthumeria as a missionary, he joined the civil war effort and eventually found himself in the same regiment as Henryk. He was forced into retirement due to injuries from some sort of "beast," leaving him scarred and with sensitive vision. He’d met his wife while still a clergyman, marrying only after he’d returned from the front. His two daughters are adopted, and he’s as fiercely protective of them as any true father would be. He and Alfred are far from friendly, mostly due to Gascoigne’s seemingly unfounded suspicions of the man.

Viola - Gascoigne’s wife and mother to their adopted daughters. She met her husband while working as a nurse during the civil war, and tended to him when gravely injured. One of few women in Yharnam that Alfred both personally knows and holds in high regards - and so receives his particular brand of chivalry. She’s a gentle woman, kind to all but just as firm in what she deems needed and appropriate. She’s become fond of Alfred with how kindly he treats her youngest, despite his peculiarities and her husband’s distrust. He seems in need of a motherly figure in his life, and so long as he continues to be a gentleman toward her and her girls, she’s more than willing to be just that; regardless of her husband’s overbearing wariness.

Eleanor & Madeline - Gascoigne and Viola’s adopted daughters. Their biological parents were victims of the civil war, and were known by both Gascoigne and Viola before their demise. Eleanor, the eldest, was old enough to remember some of what happened, while Madeline was just a babe at the time. Ellie is more reserved when it comes to interactions and letting people near. Maddie, on the other hand, can find a friend in even the most peculiar of people - Alfred, for instance. She is an avid artist-in-the-making, drawing with her chalks on the family’s front walk as her father tends to chores, while her older sister enjoys receiving piano and singing lessons from their mother. They are both very fond of dogs, for whatever reason.

Henryk - A veteran soldier and altogether mysterious older man. He is close friends with Gascoigne from his time looking out for the younger man during the war, and considers Viola and the girls his family just as much as they do him. He can occasionally be seen having a drink in a certain tavern outside of Yharnam. Other than that the man is an enigma - he comes and goes often, sometimes gone for weeks at a time. What he does with the bulk of his time in his later years is known by very few, and he seems content to leave it as such. Alfred finds him rather unsettling, more than he’s willing to admit.

Constable Valtr - A Swedish constable from a village deep in the forest that flanks Yharnam, Alfred’s only met him off the clock with drink in hand. He’s a jovial sort with an adamant personality and unwavering resolve when it comes to disbursing justice - or so his comrades have said; frankly Alfred is just fine with never having to find out firsthand. Some of the men at the tavern he frequents defer to him regularly or let him speak for them altogether, making it obvious he’s a leader of sorts among them, beyond his position as a man of the law. Even old Henryk treats him with a good deal of respect.

The Madaras Twins & Yamamura - Three men that are almost always with the Constable at their favored tavern. The young Twins run a butcher shop, but don’t seem much more than local thugs, brutish and loud in their revelry. Yamamura on the other hand is very reserved, the times he speaks always in his native tongue though Alfred is certain he knows English. On the rare occasion he wishes to speak to someone Valtr translates for him. Alfred’s familiar with the three from his occasional visits to the tavern - he even had a good-natured, drunken bout of fisticuffs with the Twins, much to Valtr and the tavern’s bettors’ delight.

Arianna - A New Pthumerian prostitute typically seen along the streets of Old Yharnam. Very personable and flirtatious, regardless of whether she’s currently working the alleys or "taking time off.” She holds herself with a surprising amount of poise for a common tart - perhaps that’s part of why she’s one of the more sought after courtesans the capitol has to offer. Though they’ve hardly interacted she holds a place in Alfred’s past, not that he would ever willingly admit it. Despite or perhaps because of that, she’s long been in Alfred’s sights for a very different sort of late-night soiree…

Gilbert - A quiet, very sickly gentleman, drawn from his homeland by Yharnam’s reputation as a place of medical advancements. He had hoped for a cure to his terminal illness, but instead found himself "aiding" the Church’s brightest minds as their guinea pig. He crossed paths with Alfred early on in the latter’s time in the city, becoming a cultural lifeline for the man. Since settling in, Alfred’s more than repaid the kindness by Gilbert’s estimate - he referred him to a certain clinic, run by one Dr. Hewlett. His existence has become far more bearable since leaving the Church doctors' clutches, and is simply glad to know whatever time he has left will be peaceful.

Sister Adella - An English nun that’s part of a convent far outside Yharnam. She rarely ventures into the city, and has little reason to given its proclivity to the resident cult. She originally joined an abbey in England associated with an orphanage, before being relocated to her current convent. She and Alfred have shared history, though neither really considers the other more than an acquaintance. Soft spoken and nervous, though on occasion can become quite impassioned.

A Hunter - Before truly moving to Yharnam Alfred spent a good deal of time touring his new homeland of New Pthumeria, during which he crossed paths with a certain individual on a number of occasions. They only ever told him they were "a sort of hunter working under contract," never giving their name and rarely uncovering their face. Despite the odd sense of discretion, they and Alfred got along swimmingly. After the first few meetings the two began spending time or continuing their travels together before parting ways once more. They're one of only a handful of people whom Alfred has allowed to pet Siegward - a good indicator of how highly he thinks of them. As of yet they don't appear to have shown up to Yharnam since he settled there.

#bloodborne #bb #ripper!au #alfred bloodborne #executioner alfred #alfred the executioner #queen annalise #percival hewlett #they're p much the main three really #donc-desole ocs #original content

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leejihoonownsmyheart · 5 years

Text

Chaos of Life

Summary:

Yoongi doesn't do things he doesn't like to do. He doesn't talk to people he doesn't like. He doesn't go to class if he doesn't want to. He doesn't even bother to look at those he doesn't think deserves his attention. So, Jimin can't help but wonder what on Earth he did to deserve this strange boys attention.

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Yoonmin University Fanfiction. Multiple Chapters. Warnings Don’t Apply. Good for General Audiences.

You can also read it on: Archive Of Our Own and Fanfiction.net

Chapter Ten:

Jimin wasn't self-absorbed or depressed per say. He was aware of his abundance of friends and wasn't trying to say that he didn't have any friends, but he was normally pretty self-reflective. In those moments of self-reflection, he had to note that other then his closest friends, people tended to tire of his company. Not to sound overly depressive or anything, but he could be found as something of a novelty to most people.

People absolutely loved to hang out around him at first, but after some time they no longer wanted to hang out with him. Jimin had learned to deal with this but he didn't want Yoongi to get tired of him. He had learned in the past to not hang out with new people constantly. If he did that then people wouldn't get tired of him as fast.

Yoongi didn't seem to care about that personal vendetta because he wouldn't let Jimin out of his sight over the week after the Facebook incident. He apparently didn't trust him to try and push people away after the damage on his "mental health" so he wasn't letting him do anything alone.

"I want your class schedule, you'll meet me for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I'll be studying at your dorm with you. Oh, do you mind if I sleepover this weekend? If you ever need anything at all just ask."

"Yoongi, you sound like an overprotective boyfriend."

"Aren't I?"

To be completely honest, Jimin really appreciated all of the attention. He probably would have had a mental spiral by this point if it weren't for Yoongi's constant attention to him. Of course, if he grew tired of him he would fall pretty hard, but at the moment, he was just enjoying time with this peculiar boy.

He paused and looked up from his paper, taping his pencil against it. Yoongi was currently asleep on his arm, having dozed off after eating breakfast. They had a few hours before class was supposed to start so Jimin was just catching up on some homework.

"Hey, Jimin," Namjoon said. Jimin looked up at them in surprise.

"Oh, hey guys, getting breakfast?"

"Yeah, we're going to sit with you," Taehyung said softly. He slid into the booth next to Jimin, lightly elbowing him in the side. Jimin smiled at him.

"Alright, just keep it down a little, Yoongi is sleeping. He stayed up all night to study with me."

Namjoon, Seokjin, and Hoseok slid into the booth across from him. Seokjin's lips stretched into a smile.

"Isn't Yoongi cute when he sleeps?" Seokjin teased lightly, he reached across the table, likely to mess with the sleeping boy, but paused halfway across the table. He seemed to think better of it and sat back in his seat.

"He's been with you all week, does that mean you guys are finally official?"

All the boys began to spoon their food into their mouths, glancing at Jimin in between bites. Jimin gave his friends a confused look.

"Official?" He asked.

"You know, has he finally asked you out," Taehyung explained. Jimin choked.

"Yoongi doesn't like me like that," he said softly, giving Taehyung a timidly smile. Seokjin snorted.

"You really think that don't you?" He stated. "You're such an idiot. You think Yoongi just falls asleep anywhere?" Now it was Namjoon's turn to look somewhat puzzled. He turned to look at Seokjin.

"He does fall asleep anywhere."

"Okay, yes, but not on anyone, Jimin-y here is special."

Jimin looked down at Yoongi, intent on looking at him for quite some time, to just quietly observe this boy that made his heart pound so much, but when he looked down he was surprised to find that Yoongi was peering up at him, awake.

Jimin's heart skipped a beat, and his face reddened a bit. He felt like he had been caught doing something weirdly intimate and he couldn't quite piece together why.

"You're awake," he breathed.

Yoongi nodded.

"I am," he agreed. He sat up and sent a glare towards Seokjin. "I can't sleep when the loud mouth is talking." "You're just jealous," Seokjin responded without missing a beat. In response, Yoongi stole a piece of bread that was on his plate. Jimin tried not to let it show how disappointed he was that Yoongi was no longer using his arm to rest on. He now felt could where the constant pressure had been applied, and he wished that Yoongi would lay back down again.

He glanced up to catch Namjoon staring at him with a teasing smile. Jimin barely bit back an audible groan.

He knew. He didn't know how, but he could tell that Namjoon knew exactly what was going through his head.

"So, exams are right around the corner huh?" Jimin segued. He hated the way his voice actually quivered. He had to get a hold of himself, he was Park Jimin for goodness sake not a school girl with a crush.

"Might as well, kill me before they even start," Taehyung quipped. Jimin chuckled.

"Suicide pact?" He teased back. Taehyung's entire face lit up.

"You bet!" He agreed. They both enthusiastically raised their hands and gave each other a high five.

"Freshmen," Namjoon said with a sigh, looking over at Seokjin. "They actually think they'll go through with it." "I can't tell you the number of suicide pacts I've had that have fallen through," Seokjin agreed, pretending to be disappointed. Namjoon gave him a sympathetic pat on the knee.

"It's okay buddy, we'll get there one day."

Jimin laughed, and so did the others at the table. Hoseok started to lightly berate everyone for making such jokes, but Jimin missed most of it due to a sudden motion from Yoongi. His hand landed on Jimin's leg, stopping it from bouncing. He hadn't even realized that he had been bouncing his leg. His face reddened, and Yoongi caught his eye. His hand was still on his leg.

"You okay?" He mouthed. Jimin's cheeks burned, so all he did was nod. Yoongi's lips quirked up just slightly and he moved his hand.

"Good," he murmured.

Jimin resisted the urge to bury his face into his hands.

Maybe he was just a school girl with a crush.

God, a crush on someone as great as Yoongi? How had he become so unlucky? "Alright, I can't help it anymore." Jimin had never been more mortified to hear Namjoon speak. His head shot up as he made eye contact with the older boy. He was ready to beg Namjoon not to say what he knew he was getting ready to say. His expression filled with desperation.

Namjoon's lips turned up into a larger smile.

"How long exactly have you two been dating again?"

The jerk.

Jimin opened his mouth to tell of Namjoon politely, and then apologize to Yoongi profusely, but Yoongi beat him to speak.

"Well our first date was when we first got dinner together, so I'm assuming we've been together for about a month and a half now."

Jimin's jaw dropped and silence fell over the table.

He had nothing to say. No words to contribute.

Yoongi was oblivious to everyone else's shock. He seemed just self-reflective on how long exactly they had been together. Cause apparently he thought they were together.

Jimin's heart beat in his chest.

He had never had a boyfriend before. He had had male crushes before, but a male boyfriend? Never- not once. Sure, he was on good terms with his extremely flexible sexuality. He dare say he was even comfortable with it, so he couldn't really explain why he was so thrown off by Yoongi's insinuation.

Wait, did that mean?

"Does that mean-" Jimin started before he could really reflect over what he was about to say. He paused and nibbled on the bottom of his lips. "Does that mean that we are boyfriends?"

Yoongi tilted his head to the side, seemingly clueless about the silence that surrounded them as he thought over the question. He reached across the table as he thought over the question and picked a piece of fruit off of Seokjin's plate. He ate it, and then slowly, he began to nod.

"I suppose it does."

Jimin's heart pounded in his chest at the thought. He could barely keep a coherent thought in his brain. The only thing that he could think about was Yoongi's implication.

Implication.

It wasn't even an implication. There was nothing about it that didn't scream the truth in Jimin's face. There wasn't a single instance of queerbaiting, or being a simple misunderstanding. No. This was Park Jimin, sandwiched between Min Yoongi and one of his best friends in the world, while being informed that he was, in fact, dating a boy who he hadn't even quite wrapped his head around his crush on.

And then as if he were a kid again, his defensive mechanisms kicked right back in.

His brain swarmed with confusing thoughts, and all he could really get straight was that he had to get out of here. He had to get away from Min Yoongi.

He tried to think of some plausible excuse but nothing came to mind. He had to keep his outward appearance calm, he couldn't let Yoongi know that he was experiencing a spike in anxiety.

Luckily, Namjoon knew him well.

"Shit, Jimin, you have a math review today."

Jimin's eyebrows shot up.

"What?" He blurted. Beside him, Taehyung even reacted.

"Oh crap, wait, I forgot."

He looked at his watch.

"Crap, crap, we have ten minutes to get halfway across campus." Before Taehyung had even finished his statement, he was scooting out of the seat and pulling Jimin with him. Not that he needed to do any convincing to get Jimin to comply.

"I'm sorry to leave you so soon Yoongi but I'll see you later!" Jimin called as he and Taehyung rushed out of the cafeteria in a hurry.

Jimin was so admittedly distracted in getting away from Yoongi that he didn't even notice when Taehyung stopped.

He plowed into his friend, knocking them both to the ground.

Taehyung groaned a little under his breath but steadied them both once he had his bearings.

"You okay?" He asked softly. Jimin wrinkled his nose.

"Honestly? I don't know," he admitted. "I'm so stupid, I should be excited."

"It's not weird that you're freaked out," Taehyung replied, patting Jimin's back. "I mean we both know Yoongi didn't mean to do it, but we also both know that it is a little much to just tell someone that you are dating like that."

Jimin kept his silence.

"Is that even what he meant?" Taehyung asked after a moment of uncertainty. "I mean, you heard the same thing I did right?"

"He said, that we were dating, and then he said we were boyfriends," Jimin recalled. Taehyung pressed his lips together.

"Yeah, that's what I heard too."

Both boys got back to their feet and began to walk in an indiscernible direction. Jimin couldn't stand the silence. He stuck his arm out in front of Taehyung's body.

"Pinch me," he decided. Taehyung rolled his eyes.

"Jimin I promise you aren't dreaming," he said certainly, but he pinched his friend anyways. Jimin hissed as the pain shot through his arm.

"I'm not dreaming," he murmured. He pressed his hand into his face. "How am I not dreaming?"

"It's okay to freak out," Taehyung assured. He gently placed a hand on Jimin's shoulder, so Jimin glanced up at him with a pressed look. "But don't freak out forever. Yoongi seems to be a pretty good guy and he is super patient, but don't wait forever to talk to him about this."

"I won't," Jimin responded. He was surprised that he was so sure about that. He really meant it when he said that he wouldn't wait forever. He had every intention of seeing Yoongi again and facing what it meant to be his boyfriend. "Just, not until after finals."

"Fair," Taehyung agreed with a chuckle. He patted Jimin's back. "Now you're walking me to class for saving your butt back there."

Jimin chuckled and followed Taehyung down the sidewalk towards his class.

Chapter Eleven

#yoonmin #chaos of life

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k-sunrael · 6 years

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Detailed - Kaevia Sun’rael

Character Chart

Character’s full name: Kaevia Sun’rael

Reason or meaning of name: It was a name offered by a friend of the family.

Character’s nickname: Dove (by some family members) and Kae by friends

Reason for nickname: Kaevia compared to most of her relatives is a ‘dove’ among ‘ravens’; or so they say.

Birth date: January 29th

Physical appearance

Age: 63

How old does he/she appear: 25ish

Weight: 124lbs

Height: 5’5”

Body build: Lissome

Shape of face: Heart shaped.

Eye color: Light green though they have begun to turn a yellowish color.

Glasses or contacts: No

Skin tone: Lightly sunkissed

Distinguishing marks: None that can be seen in simple passing.

Predominant features: Her lips or eyes, depending on who you ask.

Hair color: Black.

Type of hair: thick and short

Hairstyle: Always down and often kept in a bit of a sassy bang flip or with a small wave.

Voice: Silvery and calm

Overall attractiveness: Attractive in the face and personality but overall her curves aren’t all that impressive compared to most.

Physical disabilities: None

Usual fashion of dress: Rich colors such as greys, blacks and dark purples.She seemingly favors slacks and vests, jackets and high-boots these days which is her everyday wear, her more regal attire is often kept for events and celebrations.

Favorite outfit: Black slacks and her house jacket with raven feathers at the shoulder piece.

Jewelry or accessories: Earrings in her ears and several bands on her fingers along with a silver pocket watch at her hip.

Personality

Good personality traits: Patient, Tactful, Blunt and honest as well as caring

Bad personality traits: Logical, Jealous and too blunt sometimes for her own good

Mood character is most often in: Observant and quiet

Sense of humor: Highbrow and sarcastic humors

Character’s greatest joy in life: Oriana, Rowan and Rhistel -- her three children

Character’s greatest fear: Losing her family

Why? It is her prized possession. She loves everyone in her circle and happens to be a character that loves hard. She isn’t willing to let go of a family member or friend easily.

What single event would most throw this character’s life into complete turmoil? Losing one of her children.

Character is most at ease when: Reading.

Most ill at ease when: In the middle of a disagreement.

Enraged when: Injustice is present.

Depressed or sad when: She thinks about the past. While unfortunate, she feels she could have avoided quite a lot of her choice mistakes.

Priorities: Children, House and home as well as her thriving business.

Life philosophy: “Understand more. Analyze less”

If granted one wish, it would be: It just might be to have an actual cycle of seasons in Quel’Thalas than having to continue on with that damned perpetual spring.

Why? Its stagnant.

Character’s soft spot: Her kids and sweets.

Is this soft spot obvious to others? Depends. Those closest to her usually catch on.

Greatest strength: Stoic resolve and having that ability to not let people see her unnerved.

Greatest vulnerability or weakness: Failure. She doesn’t handle it well and even more so if others take notice.

Biggest regret: Tassarion and Dalaran.

Minor regret: Asking for her Aunt Nysaira’s help.

Biggest accomplishment: Holding down her own estate as well as being the active role and candidate to take over the Sun’rael house.

Minor accomplishment: Having the ability to master both Shadow and Holy magics in balance without being swayed to the whispers of the void.

Past failures he/she would be embarrassed to have people know about: I’m sure she has had quite a few but I cannot remember any off the top of my head per say but it might be that moment when she professed her love to another back in her youth and was ultimately shut down.

Why? She didn’t take rejection well and even now, she still happens to have some issues with handling failure or rejection.

Character’s darkest secret: Having used and continues to practice blood magic even if it IS for the right reasons and to help others. Along with her past and how she once blinded a woman with a curse for harming a loved one.

Does anyone else know? Only those closest to her.

Goals

Drives and motivations: Keep building on her business and ‘empire’ as it were when it comes to her family name and legacy.

Immediate goals: Allow growth for herself as an individual.

Long-term goals: Keep healing and just keep doing better each and every day. Someday she also hopes to have more children.

How the character plans to accomplish these goals: By living day to day, surely something has to give.

How other characters will be affected: God only knows. I suppose that depends on who she interacts with and who decides to be a part of her life in some aspect or another.

Past

Hometown: Suncrown Village

Type of childhood: Fairly sheltered though she did leave home at a young age to study and practice the Holy word under Syrahn Bloodfeather, formerly known as Bloodlust. Her parents were both alive (Still are) and treated her well. She was an only child for much of her life and into her young adult years until her brother Arden was born. She spent much of her time abroad and in the presence of other Priests as well as Human Priests.

Pets: Several horses and hawkstriders, a wolf, a couple of sheep and goats along with several cats. All live on the estate grounds and are tended to by her groundskeeper, Illdarien.

First memory: The necklace of a tree that her father gifted her.

Most important childhood memory: Chasing her cousins around.

Why? They’re family and perhaps the only people in her family she can relate to the most just because of their age and shared experiences growing up.

Childhood hero: Her father @alucieussunrael

Dream job: What she does now. Confessor and owning her own establishment which happens to be the Smoking Crow Bar and Lounge for Mercenaries.

Education: Tutored by several mentors in the way of the Light and Shadow arts She became a full fledged Confessor a few years ago and wishes to continue along that path. She was a hired therapist that the thalassian hospital when that was still running and is quite skilled in sewing and tailoring as well as being able to administer basic healing and suturing.

Religion: The holy Light (?)

Finances: Nobility, roughly the lower or middle tier of what nobility might be.

Present

Current location: Silvermoon City / Eversong Woods

Currently living with: Her staff Illdarien and Siliva along with her three children and on occasion, Whitstan.

Pets: Several horses and hawkstriders, a wolf, a couple of sheep and goats along with several cats. All live on the estate grounds and are tended to by her groundskeeper, Illdarien.

Religion: The holy Light. (?)

Occupation: Confessor, Mother, Heiress to House Sun’rael and Entrepreneur.

Finances: Wealthy.

Family

Mother: Covaya Sun’rael

Relationship with her: Fairly good. They keep each other company and stable since her father has been missing.

Father: Alucieus Sun’rael

Relationship with him: Very close. He is her hero and the only one in her family she truly seems to resemble both personality wise and physically.

Siblings: Arden Sun’rael

Relationship with them: Arden is roughly 4 years old and they have a good relationship though at times it is lacking because of the age gap.

Spouse: Divorced.

Relationship with him/her: Quite well, the two are committed and have been ‘dating’ for a while now though it might be hard to tell from those who are outside looking in, they don’t often put their relationships or feelings on public display.

Children: Oriana and Rowan (biological twins between she and her ex-husband Tassarion) and Rhistel (adopted daughter)

Relationship with them: The relationship between she and her children is great and as expected of most women and mothers. She never forgets a moment with them and makes good on her promises with nightly stories before bed.

Other important family members: Aunt Nysaira Del’nigmis and her Aunt Ashlein Nah’taal, Uncle Areus Sun’rael and her uncle Altherian Dalin’thar and her cousins Syhris Sun’rael, Paltiel Dalin’thar and Phaeris Dalin’thar as well as her Uncle Lykor Lathai.

Favorites

Color: Grey

Least favorite color: Brown

Music: Violin and harp

Food: Sweets though she loves Silvia’s homemade sandwiches.

Literature: History, theory

Form of entertainment: Books and people/conversation..

Expressions: We met for a reason, either you are a blessing or a lesson.

Mode of transportation: Walking, horse or by carriage. Once in awhile a zepplin or ship.

Most prized possession: The stave her father made for her.

Habits

Hobbies: Reading and sewing..

Plays a musical instrument? Yes. The harp.

Plays a sport? No.

How he/she would spend a rainy day: At home in a nice hot bath with a good book. IF EVERSONG EVER HAD RAIN!

Spending habits: Fairly good. She doesn’t over indulge in spending too often without reason. She saves quite a lot of her income as well.

Smokes: No.

Drinks: Once in a while, usually bourbon.

Other drugs: VERY rarely though thistle is about the extent of her dabbling.

What does he/she do too much of? Reading and working.

What does he/she do too little of? Actively trying to make friends.

Extremely skilled at: Sensing bullshit and liars. She can read people like a book and can be very witty.

Extremely unskilled at: Showing emotion and letting people in.

Nervous tics: Lip biting.

Usual body posture: Arms crossed or hands folded primly at her front.

Mannerisms: Very postured and well taught as it might seem at first glance. She seems very polite when speaking unless given reason not to be. She looks very well dressed and observant.

Peculiarities: Dark attire though there is a aura of Light magic about her.

Traits

Optimist or pessimist? In between.

Introvert or extrovert? Ambivert!

Daredevil or cautious? Cautious.

Logical or emotional? Logical.

Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? Methodical and neat.

Prefers working or relaxing? Working.

Confident or unsure of himself/herself? Confident.

Animal lover? A little bit.

Self-perception

How he/she feels about himself/herself: Kaevia is quite confident in herself and her abilities. The only time there is a sense of self-doubt is when others around her share their doubt in her. She is a stable person.

One word the character would use to describe self: Candid.

One paragraph description of how the character would describe self: “A question most never get asked unless they are trying to sell parts of themselves to another. I’m broken just as much as the next person but I prefer not to show it or to let it define me. I suppose I am resilient in a way, dedicated and driven.”

What does the character consider his/her best personality trait? Assertiveness.

What does the character consider his/her worst personality trait? Creativity. She isn’t a talented or creative person in the way of performing arts or visual arts.

What does the character consider his/her best physical characteristic? Hair.

What does the character consider his/her worst physical characteristic? Hahah! The lack of having big curves like some of the women she meets.

How does the character think others perceive him/her: To some she comes off as snotty or a know-it-all because of her blunt approach with truths and facts but a lot of people tend to admire that about her too as a character. She doesn’t sugar coat the truths and I have been recently told they like how she is a balanced character with being down to earth and also a well written noble as well.

What would the character most like to change about himself/herself: Not much as she is content with who she is but perhaps someone with a little less responsibility.

Relationships with others

Opinion of other people in general: She gets along with more than she doesn’t and she rarely happens to make enemies but she has trust issues. Everyone is out to get something.

Does the character hide his/her true opinions and emotions from others? If Kaevia has an opinion about something she will share it, unabashed and straightforward though when it comes to emotions she does not show her emotions to those around her and leaves the tears for the privacy of her own domicile. Rarely does she let people see her at her worst (EX: crying or lashing out in anger).

Person character most hates: Ex-husband Tassarion.

Best friend(s): None. She hasn’t been close enough or trust someone enough yet for that role though she does have plenty of friends and acquaintances.

Love interest(s): Whitstan Wilhelm. @whitstanwilhelm

Person character goes to for advice: Silvia.

Person character feels responsible for or takes care of: Her children though lately that role has gone to Telyina AKA Stitch @autumnblade-sorrows

Person character feels shy or awkward around: Never shy, never awkward.

Person character openly admires: Her father.

Person character secretly admires: Her Aunt Nysaira and her friend Lilthessa @lilthessa

Most important person in character’s life before story starts: Her parents.

After story starts: Herself.

#Kaevia things #Indepth

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sciencespies · 3 years

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Here's why that 'tip-of-the-tongue' feeling seems contagious when you're in a group

https://sciencespies.com/humans/heres-why-that-tip-of-the-tongue-feeling-seems-contagious-when-youre-in-a-group/

Here's why that 'tip-of-the-tongue' feeling seems contagious when you're in a group

What is the baby lion’s name in Disney’s The Lion King? If you feel sure that you know it, and it is on the verge of coming back to you but you can’t quite remember it right now, then you’re experiencing a tip-of-the-tongue feeling.

Tip-of-the-tongue feelings can also occur when people try to remember things together. For instance, a group of friends may simultaneously have the name of a movie’s main actress on the tip of their tongues.

Surprisingly, social aspects of tip-of-the-tongue feelings have been largely neglected by researchers. I recently led a study that found that tip-of-the-tongue feelings are more likely to occur when people remember together rather than alone.

I am sure I know it, but…

On the surface, a tip-of-the-tongue feeling reflects a memory failure – a breakdown happening when searching for a word. But beneath the surface, if you are quite sure you know it, that is because the word is just waiting there … somewhere in your mind.

Some researchers say a tip-of-the-tongue reflects a good memory, not a bad one.

Research has shown that when struggling with a word on the tip of their tongue, people are quite good at pinpointing the word’s first letter, at spotting the number of syllables in it, or at coming up with sound-alike words.

Clues informing a guess

According to a leading theory, at the heart of a tip-of-the-tongue feeling is an informed guess, an inference you make about the likelihood of the sought-for word being available in your memory. And to inform your guess, you rely on clues, just as crime scene investigators do.

Among relevant clues are information related to the elusive word, for instance (in the baby lion’s case): His best friend and future mate is named Nala; his youthful song was “I Just Can’t Wait to be King.”

The more clues fuel your guess that the word is available in your memory, the closer you feel it is on the verge of coming back to you, giving rise to a tip-of-the-tongue feeling.

‘Socially shared’ tip-of-the-tongues

In the lab, tip-of-the-tongues are elicited by using general knowledge questions or definitions of rare words. But since 1966, all tip-of-the-tongue studies have involved individuals remembering alone.

According to a survey conducted on Laurentian University campus, 96 percent of the participants had encountered at least one occasion where two or more people shared a tip-of-the-tongue experience in a small group over the past six months.

In our recently published study “Socially Shared Feelings of Imminent Recall: More Tip-of-the-Tongue States Are Experienced in Small Groups,” my research team presented groups of four people with 80 general knowledge questions (for example, “Which planet is the closest to the sun?”).

Participants were prevented from telling others when they were having a tip-of-the-tongue feeling. Each group member independently filled out a response sheet, indicating one of three responses:

I know it, here’s the answer;

I don’t know it; or

I have a tip-of-the-tongue.

We presented the same set of questions to individuals remembering alone.

Remarkably, we found that each group member independently reported, on average, six tip-of-the-tongues, while individuals remembering alone reported, on average, two tip-of-the-tongues.

How can we explain this finding?

Social contagion or informed guess?

A peculiar feeling may arise when one is experiencing a tip-of-the-tongue next to someone else experiencing one. It is the feeling of having “caught” the tip-of-the-tongue, as if the feeling were contagious.

Social contagion of tip-of-the-tongue feelings may arise, for instance, when hearing somebody say, “Oh wait, I know it!”, or “What was the name of that movie?”

But there’s another, alternative explanation for shared tip-of-the-tongues in a group.

There are more instances of remembering in several heads than in one. Because of this, people remembering together may entertain the guess that the target word will be easier to remember by a group of people than by a single person.

Such a guess may drive a stronger feeling of closeness with the target word, triggering a tip-of-the-tongue feeling in one (or more) people in the group.

A closer look at our results is revealing.

Evidence for tip-of-the-tongue contagion is obtained when two or more group members experience a tip-of-the-tongue for the same question (common tip-of-the-tongues), or when group members exchange words.

Yet, after removing both common tip-of-the-tongues and those following words (45 percent of all tip-of-the-tongues), there were still more in group members than in single individuals.

Therefore, even if social contagion is a plausible explanation, it seems that a more powerful one is the informed guess that the word is available there … in somebody’s memory (“If I can’t remember it, they will!”).

Tip-of-the-tongue feelings are highly private personal experiences, but we begin to gain an understanding of their social dynamics.

Both possible causes of shared tip-of-the-tongues – social contagion and the “several-heads-are-better-than-one” informed guess – are currently under investigation.

And just for the record, the baby lion’s name is Simba.

Luc Rousseau, PhD, professeur agrégé de psychologie et chercheur au Laboratoire de recherche en santé cognitive, Laurentian University.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

#Humans

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moonbelt · 7 years

Text

»kaleidoscope

↳soulmate au | baseball player au

⇢ pairing: park jinyoung | reader

⇢ genre: fluff + soft angst

⇢ word count: 7.227

author’s note: born out of this anon request and the unbecoming amount of love i have for soulmate aus lmaoo

It's a cold, dark and windy day in the middle of April when you first see through the eyes of someone else.

Cold weather, although comfy when in sweatshirts and cardigans, isn't your favorite thing in the world, and given your luck, the weather isn't the only thing that has been slowly creeping up your skin. Your boyfriend — ex now — had given you the whole breakup speech a day before. The usual "it's not you, it's me," as he slid his fingers into the ones of his newly found soul mate. You don't intend to sound like a broken record to your posse of friends, but you find yourself repeating the same words every ten minutes.

"Fuck soulmates."

Your closest friend, Althea, laughs at your statement but doesn't try to talk you out of your self-indulgent mourning. You'll be honest, you don't hate the concept of soulmates but you do despise how quickly Nathan had dropped you; like hot coal. With a flick of his wrist, you were gone and replaced by Mr. Nice Guy. You didn't bother to remember Nathan's soulmate's name, why would you? You'd thought you and Nathan were forever. As it turns out, forever only lasts a year and six months. A whole year and a half of Nathan and you asserting that having soulmates 'didn't matter in the grand schemes of life.' Now you realize, that had all been wishful thinking and the height of naiveté.

Grabbing the nearest bottle of soda, you crack open the lid and down half of it in one gulp, pretending it's something stronger. You're on a mission to not drink any alcohol because of him. And even though your chest is a mass of emotions and broken promises, you figure you'd rather die than give Nathan the satisfaction of crying over him. Not that he'd care. He doesn't seem to care for you at all anymore and you're on track to doing the same.

Finding your soulmate is supposed to be a heartwarming experience. Colored by streams of light and love, something you'll tell everyone you know - and the people you don't - because you finally found the one made for you. You understand that you're being a tad cynical but, what happens to the person who was left behind? What happens to you? The glitch in the equation. Do your feelings suddenly, by some sort of miracle, become invalid? Because at this moment, you are sure there's nothing worse than feeling like discarded leftovers.

It wasn't like you didn't know the both of you had soulmates lounging around and about out there in the world. You knew this. But you'd thought it had no effect on your connection. It's not like you'd ever met your soulmate before to have something to compare your relationship to. Nathan himself had called you his one and only love, proclaiming to the heavens and back how he was willing to fight for you. You scoff. All his words, about how the soulmate business didn't faze him, coming to bite you in the ass.

Soulmate or not, the two of you had loved each other. Or at least you loved him. And now you were trying to un-love him all on your own.

"You know what we should do?" BamBam, who originally was a distant friend of a friend but nuzzled his way into your group, perks up in his seat. "Ditch this dump and head to Club Medusa. I swear you'll forget Nathan even existed within ten minutes."

"I'd rather spare my lungs Bam," you say rolling your eyes as you kick your head back and stare at the fluorescent overhead lights.

The fast-food joint you and your group of friends are currently inhabiting is a newly established one. Freshly opened and with zero regular customers, which in turn made it one of your favorite places. You'd rather be here than in a club where personal space was akin to the devil.

Althea reaches over with her boot-clad foot and nudges your knee, dragging your attention back to her. Her face is pressed against her palm as she leans on the table's surface, a look of pity painted across her features.

"If it makes you feel any better, you're lucky he found his soulmate now and not later down the line. I mean, imagine if he left you at the altar? God, or worse if he —"

BamBam hits her arm... hard, effectively cutting your best friend off. "You are not helping. Like at all. Let me handle this, okay?" He angles his body back at you. "[y/n], believe me when I say anything," he flashes a pointed look at Althea. "Beats eating burger and fries — alone — after a breakup."

"I'm not alone. I have you guys," you say feigning ignorance, raising your hands to your chest and bowing them into a heart. "I love you guys."

Althea snorts out in laughter while Bambam shakes his head in bemusement. You really do love them, honest, more than you bargained for. Platonic soulmates are something you're glad to believe in, especially now that your friends haven't ditched you even with all your moping and sulking.

At the back of your mind, however, you acknowledge BamBam's logic. It does suck to eat junk food after a breakup but rationally, you think Althea is kind of right. You are somewhat lucky that Nathan and you called it quits before things got too serious. Even though almost two years in most relationships would be considered pretty damn serious. You thought it was serious, apparently, Nathan had not. Besides, you're trying to look at the bright side of the situation and not resort to crying your heart out in a near-empty restaurant. So just to prove a point, you reach over and stuff your mouth with a handful of fries.

Fast food might not be the answer but you sure as hell are going to make it work.

BamBam swats your hand away when you try to grab another set of fries, going on another rave about how Club Medusa is the shit. You know it's just another excuse for him to go on a dabbing spree in the cloak of darkness and an intoxicated crowd. You're about to tell him off for the umpteenth time that night; you are most definitely not getting drunk off your ass just because you got dumped. You're not that pathetic, you think. However, before you can get the words past your lips, a wave of nausea inflames your senses.

It floods over you so quickly that you don’t have time to register what’s happening as your vision darkens to pitch black. When it relights, it's to a completely different view.

Loud cheering and even louder panting usher you in. It feels... like your chest is about to implode in on itself, sweat relentlessly pooling at your armpits. You've never felt such an adrenaline rush before. Sure, you've done a few workout routines here and there but this felt oddly contrasting and for a moment your body freezes up, clutching the only thing in your hand for support. Which so happens to be a bat? But even with the peculiar item, you strangely feel at ease. Safe. Like you've done this a thousand times before even though you're positive you have not. Still, more than anything, you're confused by your situation. And when you raise your head in an attempt to determine your surroundings, you almost lose your footing.

Maybe it's due to the feeling of unfamiliarity that seeps into your bones once your eyes connect with what's ahead of you, or maybe it's because your heart has faulted in its beating, but you suddenly can't breathe.

Large expanses of sand and neatly cut grass lay onward. There's a distinct cheer that filters through your ears. "Jinyoung. Park. Jinyoung. Park." It's loud. It's deafening. And it is taking up all the space left in the stadium. Contrary to what you think, it gives you an unusual sense of calm? But in spite of that, you can't stop the one question relaying in your mind: what the fuck is going on?

Your eyes connect with the man directly in your line of sight. Posture prickly straight with a cap sitting low on his head. Blue uniform loose yet fitting against his form, and a gloved hand dangerously close to his chest. The urge to scream in fear is daunting. What, the ever-loving-fuck, is going on? You have absolutely no idea. You vaguely remember that it resembles the dreams you used to have as a kid. Back in a time when you placed baseball players on a high pedestal, aspiring to be a professional later in life. Reality came in a hard dose of ridiculous hand-eye coordination and your father urging you to quit early to prevent catastrophic injuries.

Faster than light, the man in blue whips his arm back, his leg positioned slightly ajar as he releases the ball. Your eyes barely follow the white baseball that comes flying straight at you. On impulse, you're prepared to swing at it with all your pent-up frustrations. But just as fast as you were dragged away from your world, you are ruefully brought back. Clasping your chest like your life depends on it, a sheen of heavy sweat lining your forehead and brows, eyes wide as you wait for the ball to connect with — hopefully — not your face.

"Holy shit," you manage to stutter out long after the sensation has come and gone. Your heart took its time with catching itself back in place. Your friends don't seem to have noticed your out-of-body experience. Instead, their bickering is the only thing that remains constant.

BamBam is shooting Althea an unimpressed look as he draws his words out dryly. "All I'm saying is, [y/n] needs a break from relationships. Don't set up some stupid blind date and think you're doing the Lords work because I can assure you, you are not."

"This has absolutely nothing to do with you!" She exclaims incredulously, flipping her hair to the side. "[y/n] loves my blind dates, don't you [y/n]?" Althea cocks an expectant eyebrow at you, waiting for your input.

"Holy shit! Holy freaking shit!" You say instead with a voice louder than before, toppling over your chair in a bid to stand up and pace the adrenaline away. "Oh, my fucking gosh. D-did you guys see what j-just happened?"

"Um... no?" Bam's concerned gaze flicks incessantly between you and Althea like maybe the two of you are telepathic and are holding out on him. "Why are we freaking out? I want to know why we're freaking out. I can't freak out if I don't know what happened!"

"I-I just saw something. Or at least... I think I did."

Althea squints her eyes at you not exactly confident on where you're going with this, but nevertheless, she rises to her full height and clamps two calming hands on your shoulders.

"Deep breaths [y/n]. In out, in out. Whatever it is, it can't be worse than Nathan dumping you for Mr. Nice Guy —"

"Althea!" BamBam's exasperated voice booms out as he throws his arms up in the air. "Don't bring up that asshole, not now—"

You cut the conversation short. "I think I just connected with my soulmate," your voice reverts back to whispering. It's a miracle that Bambam can even hear you. "I mean, I'm not sure... but I'm positive I just saw a snippet from their life or something. Again, not sure about this, but I swear I'm not making this up I—"

"What?!" Althea cuts you off, her eyes widening in disbelief but also curiosity. All of you seem to be cutting each other off today. "You're not shitting us, are you?"

Amidst the pounding of your heart, you relax at her facial expression. "Do I look like I'm shitting on you right now? This has never happened before. Does this mean what I think it means or am I being delusional?" You look to Bambam for support.

He shrugs his shoulders in astonishment. "Why are you looking at me?! I've never met a rare before."

Soulmates — no matter how commonplace they've become over the decades and with the advancement of science, are still an enigma to the world. Why do they exist? How did they suddenly come into being? And most importantly, in what forms do people find them?

The most common had to be the name business. Finely printed letters across wrists, something you never got even after clocking seventeen. Closely after that came Soul marking — in which you only know your soulmate by touching them and getting a peculiar mark from them in that area. Add that to the never-ending list of stuff you've never experienced. But then there's the ultimate rarity, God tier level if you will, instances where people suddenly could see through their soul mates eyes; snippets that barely lasted four minutes.

You'd read countless work about them in your high school Advanced History class, some fabled and some rumored to be true, but not once did you think you would be the one experiencing it.

Terrifying yet thrilling at the same time.

"Do you know how amazing this is?" Althea is bouncing up and down, her arms caging you in a hug. "Loser Nathan can suck it. Your soulmate exists!"

Bambam quickly gets the memo and wraps his hands around the two of you, cementing your bond closer. You're still in a daze as your mind grasps the implication of what happened. You don't know if it is right to feel as elevated as you do.

Twenty-four hours ago, you had a relationship and although that has since become dust, you can't help the little attachment tying around your heart. What if your soulmate already has someone? Someone who is obviously not the one the universe wants for them, but someone nonetheless. What if they don't pull a Nathan and dump their significant other? What if they genuinely love them? More than they love a practical stranger at least. What if —

"This is a cause for celebration, isn't it?" Bambam shoots you a shit-eating grin as he releases his grip on you. "There's no reason why we can't hit Club Medusa —"

"I agree!" Althea nods her head adamantly, long hair falling across her shoulders.

You try, a little, to pay attention to the excitement of your friends but it proves to be a feeble attempt. Your mind - and heart - can't stop racing. It feels like you've flown closer to the sun, electricity flowing through your veins, lighting everything in sight. And even though you're sort of scared of how weightless you feel, you don't want to ever let this feeling go. You still have insecurities plaguing your mind, probably won't cease just because you want them to. But like before, you decide to only look at the bright side of the situation. At long last, the Universe is getting on your side and you're not stupid enough to jinx it with negative thoughts.

Soulmates might not be the end all and be all of the world, but you'd rather not spend the rest of your life wondering about the might-have-beens. At least for today, you vow to revel in this sensation, like everything is finally right.

Soon after, you find yourself leading your trio to Club Medusa, thoughts of your ex-banished to all hell and replaced by thoughts of the person with the bat. Two words piercing through your thoughts consistently. For reasons you don't understand, you get inexplicably lightheaded from them.

Park Jinyoung.

It has a nice ring to it, you think. Comparable to how you believe hitting a home run would feel like. Exhilarating; like you're gliding on ice and nothing can stop you. Not even death. Maybe it applies almost exclusively to death? As if this feeling won't ever stop, regardless if time passes.

It scares you. After all, almost every fairy tale you know of was spawned out of tragedy. And you're not stupid enough to believe completely in things you can't see. But for all that you do believe in, you want to trust this feeling.

Not to sound philosophical or anything like that, but life is all about moments. Moments before life, moments during life and moments afterlife. And no matter how coincidental you believe a situation to be, it most likely wasn't accidental or simply by chance. It comes as no surprise to you then that you find yourself repeating this mantra to yourself, more often than not, over the next few days since the incident.

You haven't experienced a really out of tuned snippet like the one you had back at the fast food restaurant. In fact, since then all you'd had were dizzy spells. Instances where you could taste something when you weren't eating. Or when you closed your eyes to doze for a bit, you'd wake up disoriented with the feeling of being in a body that is not yours. This happened for two weeks. Two weeks of you almost feeling your soulmate but not.

To be quite frank, you never thought you'd be one of those people. You know, the ones who become obsessed — to the point of borderline insanity — over their soulmates. Ergo Nathan. Okay, maybe you're still holding a slight grudge against him but it's not like you're a saint. Or want to be. And it's not like you want to relentlessly think about your soulmate, but for the life of you, your brain seems adamant on not listening to any of your demands.

Like right now, as you filter through the orders of the day. Working at the only on-campus coffee shop/bakery was quickly proving itself to be a bad decision. You work the late evening shift and half the time it was scarce, a big difference compared to most afternoons where orders were constantly flooding in.

The only downside of not having enough orders to occupy your body was that your mind was consistently straying away from the present. Weaving vivid descriptions of your soulmate. How tall would they be? How loud did they laugh? What kind of things did they do for fun? You're so far gone in your thoughts that you don't realize a new group of customers have walked into the store. In fact, you don't return to the present until one of them, a lean and tall yellow-haired boy, clears his throat loudly.

Your shoulders jump back, startled. It's a group of six boys all in white baseball uniforms and even though you consider yourself pretty tall, they tower over your height as they make their way to the back of the store where the speakers are located. They barely give you any attention, instead, they leave Blondie to handle their orders.

The blonde boy who winks at you, like maybe you're taken aback by his admittedly unabashed beauty and not the intrusion of your personal space. You manage to awkwardly offer him a smile, your eyes scanning the pack that has now settled in a corner booth.

Usually, you worked your shift alongside Yuri, a Nursing major, but due to unforeseen circumstances, she had to check out early. Yuri was the one that dealt with the jocks, for a lack of a better term. Not that you had anything against the athletics department, you'd just rather not put yourself in a situation to interact with them. Your view on them may have been slightly tainted due to experiences in high school. But life was all about moments, you tell yourself, and right now you're trying to get past the faint lingering smell of sweat and dirt.

"What can I get for you today?" You try to put a pep in your voice but it falls flat.

"Can I have, uh, you?" he replies with an unexpected grin on his face. Like he knows how cringe and unreasonable he's being but is engaging you in his humor. You roll your eyes at him.

"I'm gonna pretend you didn't say that and spare both of us the embarrassment, okay?" You say, not really expecting an answer from him but still offering him a cocky smile regardless. The store is CCTV protected and your manager will bust a vein if he found you being slightly ominous to any customer, even if you had a right to it. "Is there anything else you and your buddies want to order this fine evening?"

He doesn't seem at all fazed by the sarcasm dripping from your voice, if anything, his cheeks expand even more. "I like you; you're funny." Blondie casually remarks before he narrates his and his teammates' orders. He gets through five orders before he draws a blank, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he turns around and gets the attention of his friends.

"Jinyoung, what’s the order for today?"

Your eyes follow to where the other boys are situated and fall on the boy in question. A dark baseball cap sitting on his head, his eyes tear away from his phone and focus on Blondie and you. His voice comes out low and serene but at the same time loud enough to travel the path to your ears. You fumble a little with ringing up the total and Blondie snickers when you finally hand him the receipt. He sends you another wink, this time more playful than flirty before he makes his way over to his friends.

As you work your way through the requests, you wonder what's up with your luck these days. First, you get the scare of your lifetime by being thrown into a baseball game mid-pitch and now you're coming face to face with a pack of baseball players. Just your luck that the only name you can remember from the snippet is Park Jinyoung.

You found out over the course of the past two weeks, that Park and Jinyoung were among common names that came in the same package. Or at least common enough for you to be in class with four other namesakes. The only reassurance you had was that you were positive that if you ever came in contact with the Jinyoung from back then, you would know.

You also know not to get your hopes up. There probably is more than one Jinyoung in your university's baseball team. Moreover, you're not sure which baseball team your soulmate even plays for. It could be the university a few towns over, it could be pro-league... in fact now that you really thought about it, it could be any team on the planet. Well, aren't you fucked? You think to yourself solemnly.

You're so distracted by your thoughts that you almost burn your hand under hot water, but even then, your thoughts don't stop twisting and turning around in your head.

It takes longer than usual but once you complete their full order, you look up to grab the attention of Blondie but you're met with Jinyoung's intent gaze instead. It's not quite daunting but at the same time, it doesn't put your heart at ease. Head cocked to the side and his lower lip threatening to crack between his teeth; he looks like he's desperately trying to glue pieces of something together.

You raise your hand to wave him over and in an instant, he's standing to his full height and walking over to you. You'd naively thought that he would've sent Blondie to do the deed instead, this Jinyoung didn't strike you as someone that liked communicating with people unless he absolutely had to. You guessed wrong.

He takes long strides to the cashier and you try not to stare as he does so but your eyes have other plans. He has a boyish yet manly vibe to him, and even though he looks stoic in appearance, now that he's come close, you can see how his eyes differ. They hold something akin to warmth and you find yourself staring into them longer than necessary. Today just isn't your day, you tell yourself to justify how weird you've been acting. You do not ogle boys in the cafe. You simply don't.

"Thanks," he says, grabbing two of the trays. "I hope Yugyeom didn't weird you out? He does that a lot... sorry."

Not expecting him to apologize for his friends' antics, words die in your throat but you force a chuckle out of your lips at best, you refuse to be on the same level as a mannequin.

Jinyoung nods his head as if your laughter is a good enough response. The corners of his lips tilt up before he's hauling his way back to his pack and you finally let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Christ, since when did you get so weak? It wasn't like this was the first attractive person you'd ever met. Get it together! Your soulmate was out there. Probably a few thousand miles away, but out there nonetheless!

You flip your notepad to a new blank page and proceed to doodle on it. Little trees sprouting from the corners and swirling lines outlining the borders but soon enough you find yourself lettering Park Jinyoung along with those as well. You don't even know if this name belongs to your soulmate. You're relying on trial and error and now that you're thinking about Jinyoung, your eyes flick up and lock in on him.

You wonder if he's your soulmate. Probably not, but you wonder regardless. How would you know? It's not like the heavens are going to split open and a white dove will appear above his head. He isn't Jesus, you reckon, and you aren't either. You're about to disregard thoughts of him from your mind when you feel a familiar sensation wash over you.

Gripping the corners of the table you try to anchor yourself. It's a futile attempt because in an instant you lose your sight and by the time you regain it, you already know you've parted with your body.

The chatter is annoyingly loud, most likely because you've been thrown in the midst of it. To your sides sit boys on a baseball team. You're not as surprised as you ought to be when your vision connects with Blondie — Yugyeom. He's making a joke about hitting a home run and one of them, the loudest besides Yugyeom, laughs maniacally at that.

Your body freezes up as your eyes drift over and count how many of the boys you can see. Five. Five and none of them are Jinyoung. You can tell someone is drilling holes into you; desperate to grab your attention so you quickly raise your head. Well, if you're being technical, it's not your head. But that's easily understandable.

It's weird and honestly terrifying to see your own body looking at you. Not the same as looking at yourself in a mirror but not completely different either. Eyes wide and a tad bit glassy stare back at you in shock. A shock that you're sure is mirrored in your borrowed pair of eyes. You sit there staring at each other for what seems like hours until you're dragged out of your reverie by one of the boys tapping your shoulder.

"How do you feel about sporks?"

"Huh?" Your voice comes out deeper than you know and it shakes you to your core.

"Dude," the black-haired boy with a perpetual smile on his face, rolls his eyes. "Aren't you listening? Sporks, you know those things that double as forks and spoons?"

One of his friends rubs his hands against his face as he sighs out, exasperatedly. "Sporks are not a thing, Jackson. Jesus Christ, no one calls them that."

Jackson seems highly offended by the statement. "What do you mean? Everyone calls them that! You're so —"

You don't get to hear the ending of his rant. Jackson and the loudness of the table fade to distant chatter in an instant as you return to your rightful place. Damn, you don't think you'll ever get used to this. What are you supposed to do now? You'd thought finding your soulmate will automatically put things in perspective. But right now, as you barely stand at the back of the cashier and peer over at him, you can confidently say that nothing makes any sense.

It's not like you can walk up to him and demand the two of you run into the sunset together. Okay maybe that's a little extreme but that's pretty much what Nathan did if your memory serves you correctly. You can't really do much with this situation, truly. You don't want to introduce yourself to him in front of his teammates, imagining the looks on their faces already did the honors of turning your feet cold.

"Ah," you sigh out to yourself.

Maybe you should sneak him your phone number? No, no, no! Abort! Your brain waves a red flag. Not only is that the cliché of clichés, you are assertive the napkin will find its end in a nearby dumpster and not his contact list like you want.

You nibble on your bottom lip, deep in thought. None of the stories that you'd read prepared you for this moment. They'd all ended with the two soulmates [tearfully] acknowledging each other. Bells ringing in the distance and love blooming in their eyes. You snort. What a fucking joke. This is awkward. Awkward as fucking hell. And you have no idea how you are supposed to break the ice. Perhaps ask him about his take on sporks?

Maybe you should just wing it? And see how it goes? If the stars are bent on putting the two of you together, it shouldn't matter if you embarrass yourself a few times... right? Before you come to a conclusion on the matter, you hear scraping of seats and the thudding sounds of sneakers hitting the floor as the one group you've been avoiding eye contact with, gets up and begins trudging out.

"See you around sweetheart," Blondie calls out, winking as he does. "Maybe next time I'll win you over with my amazing skills?"

No, you think, but you're too distracted with trying to discreetly watch Jinyoung as his friends drag him out. He seems out of place, his body being pushed against his will. He looks at you like he wants to say something but then decides against it. You open your mouth to... call out to him? You're not sure. But you end up closing your mouth remorsefully, as the door to the store swings shut.

Well, there goes chance number one. If your luck was anything to go by, you probably wouldn't meet him again for weeks. You could always religiously jog past the baseball teams’ practice field but you figure that will turn out really creepy really fast.

Busying yourself with your closing routine, you quickly buzz through wiping tables and accounting everything for what they're worth. In the back of your mind though, you think about Jinyoung. How he looks without that cap shadowing his face. If he ever won that game. If he has any idea how the two of you are supposed to connect. If he can honestly feel the low strumming of wires been set ablaze under your skin, or maybe it's just you.

Once you've finished everything that needs to be done in the store, you lock up and make your way out of the university center. The time on your watch reads 10:12 and you wonder if you'll be able to make the last bus to your dorm across campus. Your boots crunch dirt under your path and you tighten your hoodie closer to your skin. It's awfully cold for April but you don't question the weather.

The weirdest thing you've come to understand about the soulmate euphoria is that no matter how life-altering or intense a feeling like that continues on for, so long as it happens within the constraints of your mind, nobody else knows.

Your skin might sheen over with sweat, your mind buzzing with incoherent words but nobody else in the world knows what's going on and sometimes not even you.

"Are you following me?" Your voice comes out tentative because what if you're wrong? Oh, the embarrassment.

There's a ruffle somewhere behind you and then a pair of white shoes come to a halt beside you. Two forceful coughs later comes out his reply.

"I wasn't following you, honest. I was looking at the moon."

"Why do I feel like you're lying?"

He shrugs, not bothered. "Do you usually accuse everyone you meet? Or is this a thing reserved for me?"

You decide to not answer. Instead, you pick up the pace and continue the walk to the bus stop. In five minutes the bus is going to vamoose out and you're going to be left with no other option than walking back home. It wasn't the worst, but it certainly wasn't the best or fastest.

It doesn't take him that much effort to catch up to you. In fact, you're afraid he barely has to huff out a breath to reach you.

"Hey, wait. Are you ignoring me? Did I do something wrong?"

You steel yourself from sparing him a glance. "No, it's not you per se. But the bus waits for no one and I hate walking."

"Really? I like walking. Feels good. Also, you use the bus?"

"You do play baseball, it'll be more of a shocker if you didn't." You say finally looking at him. Nervous energy emits from him, his fingers wringing around one another repeatedly. "Cars are expensive and well, buses are cool... kinda."

There's no plausible reason why the two of you are engaging in this conversation other than the fact that you're both trying to break the ice.

"So," you make an attempt, the butterflies in your stomach making house. "Do you usually come to the cafe? I've never seen you there before."

He shakes his head. "First time. I lost a bet and Yugyeom wouldn't stand for me chickening out."

"What, you're too good for coffee or something?" You hope there's a joking tint in your voice because you're not being snobby, you're trying to joke around. Oh God, no one ever prepared you for this.

Luckily, he understands and he laughs aloud. Your heart calms down at this, you feel strangely accomplished.

"I hate coffee but since I lost, I didn't really have a say."

"What bet did you lose?"

He bites his tongue in uncertainty and you wonder if it was okay for you to ask. The two of you haven't even exchanged names and you're already prying. You feel your body heating up, for more reasons than one. You're ready to tell him that it doesn't matter when he says:

"I got struck out by the pitcher in my last game. I told the guys that I was gonna hit a home run but uh, you know that thing happened and..." his voice trails off.

You add two and two together, not like it was any hard. You had totally missed that swing that time. Damn, as if it wasn't enough that you'd went and lost, you'd also helped him lose a bet? This soulmate thing was supposed to be o' so rosy and beautiful, wasn't it? You are beyond mortified and the only thing saving you is that you've arrived at the bus stop.

However, the last bus is nowhere to be seen and your heart sinks into your chest as you turn around to face Jinyoung.

"I'm so sorry,” you focus your eyes on his nose. “I really thought I had that. Is there a way I can make it up to you?"

He waves away your apology with his hand. "It's no big deal. I mean it's not like either of us had it coming, plus you must have been terrified. That guy has one of the fastest pitches in the bracket. I was surprised I didn't walk out with a black eye."

"That bad?"

Jinyoung nods solemnly but the light in his eyes eases the elephant stomping on your chest. "Don't sweat it. Anyways," he takes a look around. "I don't think your bus is still here."

He is right. Just thinking about the ten-minute walk to your dorm is enough to put a damper on your mood. It sucks but it's what you get for being so absentminded all day. One good thing came from this though... and he was standing right in front you.

"Seems like I'll be walking. How about you? Are you heading straight?" Even though you want to continue talking to him [you feel like you could listen to his voice for forever], you know better than to push your luck with these things.

"Yeah. You?" He asks as he readjusts the strap of his Nike duffel bag on his shoulder. It looks ridiculously heavy and you wonder what's inside it.

Fate, you guess, is having a field day. You nod your head in agreement, allowing your hair cascade around your face in a bid to hide how giddy your feeling. The awkwardness is still there but something more is pushing it to the back of your mind until it lies dormant. You want to enjoy this feeling. The fact that Jinyoung hasn't gone running the opposite direction is enough faith to have you willing to test this whole soulmate thing out.

The two of you, without much words, fall into step next to each other on the way to your respective destinations. You play a game of kicking the stray stones on your path, playing footsie with yourself. You bite your lower lip, asking your inner gods for strength.

"So," you start a new conversation. "How long have you been playing baseball?"

"Since I was ten," Jinyoung replies as he raises his cap and runs a hand through his inky black hair. You're in awe at how chiseled his face looks. Beyond what you are expecting but you're not exactly complaining. "Twelve years." There's unabashed pride in his voice.

"Ooh," you clap your hands together in astonishment.

He takes a mock bow and you laugh at him. He's actually pretty cute now that you think about it. At first, you had been intimidated by how intense he looked at you but as the moments' tick on you're beginning to warm up to him or maybe he is warming up to you? Either way, you're finding it harder and harder to contain the heat seeping through your body and you're sure he can tell the effect he's having on you.

"How about you? Do you play any sports?"

You clear your throat. "Well, of course. I'm exceptionally skilled in the arts of procrastinating and crying about said procrastinated work when I accidentally miss a deadline. I'm self-taught and a professional."

Jinyoung's laughter lifts weights from your chest and frankly, you're surprised when he doubles over, clutching his sides. You like him already. Anyone that can put up with your lame jokes is a keeper in your books. You don't mean to compare but Nathan had never once cracked a smile at them. Okay so maybe you do want to compare, Nathan can suck it.

"Tell me more about this sport of yours," he says after he has regained his breath and his chest isn't threatening to explode.

"It usually ends in regret and soon after that I'll vouch to never procrastinate again but as expected, I never listen."

He chuckles lightly at that but lets the conversation die. This time the silence is comfortable and you don't feel the need to fill it with words. However, you do want to ask him for his phone number and maybe if you're daring enough, ask him to hang out tomorrow after your shift; to get to know him better. It's one thing finding your soulmate, it's another actually bonding with them. You wonder if he's thinking along the same lines as you are or if he's a go-with-the-flow kinda person.

Before you know it, you've arrived at the front steps of your dorm. Lone college students stream out of it, probably on their way to a frat party or maybe they enjoy the cool night air? Who knows. You turn your gaze back to Jinyoung, steeling your resolve. If you don't ask him now for his contact then when? Unless he drops by the cafe sometime later or if you indulge in perpetually jogging around the baseball's practice field in hopes of seeing him again, you doubt the universe is going to give you another chance.

"Do you mind if —" you begin just as Jinyoung says, "Should we exchange —"

Your lips lean upwards and you do nothing to stop the laughter bubbling up from your ribs. You motion for him to say his words first and you snort [internally] as you watch him fiddle with his mobile phone, nervous.

He clears his throat. "Should we, uh, exchange numbers or something? Only if you want though."

Instead of answering him directly, you reach into your back pocket and produce your mobile device and hand it to him. As he swaps his phone with yours, your fingers brush against each other and you swear you can feel your nerves expand and burst... if that's even possible.

The pair of you make quick work with inputting your data and you're about to hand him his phone back when you see him raise your phone to his eye-level and take a picture. Ah, profiles. You filter back to edit your contact and do the same. The lighting is bad and your hair is a mess but your smile is bright. Brighter than you imagined. And after fruitless attempts to rein it in, you hand Jinyoung his phone in optimistic silence.

He takes one glance at your saved contact before he stuffs his phone in his pocket. "You can call me whenever you want... Even if you don't have a reason to."

"Okay," you say. "You too. Maybe we can meet up sometime?"

"Sounds like a plan."

You're about to head up the steps and fly to your room when you finally remember that you haven't introduced yourself to him yet. You whip your head back and push a palm out. "I'm [y/n], by the way."

He gives you a lopsided smile that kind of melts your insides as he grabs your hand, his wrapping yours in its entirety.

"Jinyoung."

It feels like the two of you have created a pact. You're definitely attracted to him and to God you hope this soulmate system is actually something to swear by. But if the butterflies in your stomach are anything to go by, this — whatever it is — is something good. You manage to utter a goodbye before you're dashing up to your room, afraid to turn back because you know he'll be able to tell that you're three steps away from falling headfirst over him.

Althea and BamBam are the first things on your mind. Right now you just want to scream out in joy. And even though three is a crowd, three is also company. Company that you’re sure will lose their shit along with you by these turn of events.

You're almost in the safety of your room, already pulling open Snapchat when your phone chimes with a new message.

Park Jinyoung >-< » by the way, I got tongue tied earlier [10:42 pm]

Park Jinyoung >-< » but you are so very cute, my god [10:42 pm]

A/N: woo! i hope people like this and tell me what they think. thank you very much for reading!

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