#a very minuscule part to act 2 and then more in act 3

[camping-with-monsters]

top ten guys who would uhhhhhhhh never hurt a fly. yeah we’ll go with that.

Rant incoming hee hoo

Uhhh not too much on him but his name is Archibald. Archie for short. Sometimes referred to as “The Finchman.” He gets a cool badass nickname why? Because all good serial killers get one yeah?

Sorry I meant uh. He’s so nice to you just as long as he doesn’t seem you weak. He’s got a weird “Survival of the Fittest” complex going on. Deems people weak based on an assortment of things and tries to eradicate the world of the weak cause uh. Yeah he’s just. He’s like that for some reason. Huh.

Also he’s like. One of the very few people who’ve managed to outlast that of Cuckoo. Yeah he’s a Bliss character.

(Special thanks to @pazam for helping me out with his face— I was having a little trouble with it initially!)

[plinko-mori]

@dizzyfuzzy I hope you will enjoy these...

More than 30 reasons of why I relate a lot to Ougai Mori

1) Clingy and cloying

2) Rational and logic

3) Necessity to have many things around us under our control

In those three aspects we are the same

My closest friends use always those words to describe me too, and well I can't deny it... I'm clingy as fuck

I always use, and try to avoid it but it's hard

4) We have our both "Elise-chan" that people confuse it with a crime because of the weird obssesion

This needs an explanation but not too deep because this is not analyzing Mori's character with Elise

Mori's relationship with Elise is bad seen for most of the BSD fandom, telling he is a pedophile (something I disagree) and pedophilia is actually a crime

Incest too, but why is it related?

Because when I talk about my dad, I sound like clingy Mori interacting with Elise... When I clarify the fact it's just my dad and I love him a lot, people think I'm incestuous

5) Way to talk, same tone of voice

6) Manipulation

7) Emotional blackmail

8) See someone small and younger, adopt them, give them our affection, traumatize them, we loving them and hope the same affection back

Also having favouritism which from time to time are noticeable

9) Taking the charge of a leader very seriously

10) Dramatic bitches

11) Be with a person, torture them, affect them my own words and see how they fall to pieces in front of you over something as minuscule as words

Attitudes and parts of my personality that I share with Mori, not only that I notice but that people tell me while explaining to me why they call me «Mori»

8 and 11 may look the same but they are actually not

8 is about how I actually adore many people that I end up traumatizing by mistake when I try to give them lessons... While number 11 is related to me enjoying some people suffering!

12) Walking red flags

I don't think this one is necessary to explain tho...

13) Necessity to take care of people, to make them grow in their biggest potential

14) Throwing everyone's emotions and desires (including our own) out the window in favour of the """optimal solution"""

15) Can hurt people close to us if it's necessary for them

This is getting way too personal but that's basically how it is

Last year I wanted to break a friendship that was basically annoying me but the other person still wanted to be my friend

So I started to do things with some people to make her lost interest, hate me, I betrayed her trust whatever and basically how she ended the friendship was like that scene of PM Dazai arguing with Mori after the Oda-event

16) Observers and analytics

17) Changing our mood from one second to the next

18) Being reserved with our emotions about how we really feel about doing various things we do/did/will do

Idk I just don't like sharing many emotions tbh... It's not like «lmao I'm edgy» but a «I won't tell you the truth so believe what you want to believe»

19) Choosing the worst possible option that makes us look the shittiest

20) Both wanted to die when we were younger

21) Similar to Mori, I'm in charge of my house and I I have to organize everything

I make sure everyone is taking good care of themselves (they don't so I do it), I make sure how they spend the money so later we don't have problems, I organize almost everything they do and make them remember everything because hahan't good memory

I feel like a slave to my own family as I am the only one who takes care of their welfare lol

22) We both act "childish and silly" to "strangers", to people we are starting to know oh but the people we know for a long time? They know we are bastards

Anecdote but that Atsushi scene of Mori interacting with him happened to me in real life and it was weird but hilarious

23) "Even if that's true, so what?"

Ignoring the fact that this happened with an ex friend... Because I literally said it and had the Yosano scene-

I love that phrase, ignoring the post I'll do analyzing it... I don't feel it's necessary to explain everything to everybody

Even if there are horrible interpretations of things, people should be prepared to face anything. Bad or good things, also to ignore their emotions and do anything they need to do or should do... So what? What's the problem with it? Ignore the reputation you give to people and worry a little more about yourself, about the things you must or should do

24) Friends that treat us like trash and we don't do anything to stop it <3

25) Ideals, optimal solution >>>>>>>>>>>

26) Know exactly what to do in our lives and who to actually trust to stay at our side

27) People trying to understand or predict us, kind of, understand us, but they don't quite manage to do so– Dazai when Mori released Q, me with ex friends and more etc

Some people tried to predict me into something??? And I literally did something worse and they got shocked and I laughed

28) Dislike dirty things, probably hate them

29) Medical things, like, if someone tells me my hand are cold I will answer something like:

"Cold hands are often a sign that your body is trying to maintain its normal body temperature. However, always having cold hands could indicate that there is a problem with blood flow or blood vessels in the hands"

30) Being paranoid (a little, maybe) about ending up as one person we don't want to be like but it's not like we say it a lot-

31) People do not fucking understand us and that offends me tbh... The things I do is for the greatest good for them and Mori also did it for the best of them

32) «Heart!? This is war. It's a side where the side that cares about "heart" first loses»

For me it's a fact and you can't convince me otherwise

33) Dude our friends/people we interact to are the same I see my friendships and ex-friends there

34) The necessity to control almost everything around us (I'm sorry)

[corinnetheanime]

Update: getting progress on Page 5, also more or less got Part 1 of the overall story all structured thanks to Abbie Emmon’s 3-Act guidelines. I managed to combine some elements of the previous Part 1 and 2 together into this, which helps a lot. So far, it’s at least 20-25 chapters, give or take a few.

And the Disaster at the very end of Part 1 is gonna hit Danny. Hard.

The rest of the story can’t really be divided into 2 parts since it gets pretty long and complicated. In my mind it’s more like a manga with lots of arcs and twists and whatnot. Part 1 looks so minuscule in comparison, hence why it’s considered the “Inception.” Whereas the rest of it will be considered “The Journey” leading up to “The Battle.”

Thankfully, summer will be the time where I focus primarily on the rest of the plot points in my head and flesh it all out. I have the final ending and epilogue still in mind, and a long word document that details the main story beats I want to hit, it’s all just a matter of how to get to those points.

Notion has been a huge help in that regard with getting all my thoughts in one place and organizing them.

Also a lot of ideas have been revised/changed. So some of my previous concept art/quotes may be a bit inaccurate now, but hey, that’s the point of concept! It’s to get the idea out and see whether it works or not!

Anyway, that’s the main gist of it. My goal for the whole year after summer is see if I can get the entire Prologue finished. :D

Also, if anyone wishes to beta read, let me know. I often reach out to some peeps on Discord about it, but it helps to have a good eye.

[elnotwoods]

Pran and the feral looks/actions throughout the series [Part 1]

Continuing directly where I left off in Part 1:

EP 7 - the unhinged and feral energy reached its peak during the water bottle “sponge bath”. Pran’s eyes just say it all. The raw feral energy as he holds the bottle close to Pat’s naked chest… 5000/10

(at one point his eyes literally roll back.. at first it looks like he is rolling his eyes at Pat but it’s just Pran not being able to hide his arousal)

EP 6 - I remember when episode 6 aired I was left speechless and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one. You know, I’ve always said that the quiet ones are usually mega kinky. And I was right. This is a feral beach Pran… 600/10

EP 4 - you know, one could argue that anything further back in the past can’t have any feral moments from Pran, but I will provide evidence to prove my point. You have to remember, at this time, they’re already dancing around each other and Pran questions Pat’s signals. And he has trouble reigning the feral in. It usually slips past his tight grip when they’re teasing each other or competing… like at the rugby game. But also, just after they finish their race up the stairs and they wrestle for the inhaler.. there’s a short moment when Pran’s eyes just… he looks at Pat and his facial expression changes but it’s so fast you might not have noticed at first. All in all 7/10

EP 3 - need I say more? The moment Pat pushes into him in that elevator Pran gives him a specific look. A look we now know is feral. He doesn’t let it go on for longer than three seconds, but it’s there… 3/10

EP 2 - there are actually two feral moments/looks Pran gives Pat in episode 2. First is at the rooftop (of course it’s on their rooftop) but the change is so quick I wasn’t able to successfully capture it. It’s the moment Pran asks Pat if he just broke his heart. Then later at the dorm room Pran checks out… when he turns back to Pat, one second he is totally feral, the next he is back to their banter.. 4/10

EP 1 - the moment Pat walks away and Pran is left there with Pat’s number newly added to his contact list. It’s the moment Pran allows himself to be feral for the first time in the series… admittedly very shortly but it’s there and I beg you… go back and rewatch it. 8/10

I know some of these moments might seem like their usual teasing but Pran actually slips during those moments. Nanon does such a magnificent job with his eyes but his facial expressions also deserve praise. There are very very minuscule changes, twitches in his face, flares of his nostrils or blinking of his eyes… and they all add to the breathtaking acting he does with his eyes. Because he literally has 1 distinguishable feral look™️ that comes and goes.

Once you know what to look for, it becomes very obvious. After all, Pran has been the one who has been aware of and living with these feelings and desires longer.

[beomglocks]

happy (very) 'belated' father’s day

summary : the only father willing to come to the dinner

pairing : dilf neighbor!soobin x (legal)!reader x beomgyu (?)

warnings & other: i wrote the day after fathers day, the title is edited bc im posting this like WAY later LOL, threesome (?), degradation, some beomgyu (no incest), sub!beomgyu if you squint like really fucking hard, definitely not a normal relationship, slight exhibitionism, some possessiveness, DON’T read if you’re uncomfortable with age gaps, edit: REwriting this, this one is for the dilf soobin stans, eat up, don't say i don't feed yall, enjoy <3, kind of proofread

w/c : ~4k

you realize it now.

after living side by side with mr. choi soobin and his son, beomgyu, for a couple of weeks, you’ve started to realize something quite interesting.

1. your mother has a liking for tall lean men.

2. she also has a liking for trying to set you up with the tall lean mens’ son.

now, you wouldn't say you're exactly opposed to getting close to beomgyu. he's conventionally attractive and he seems like a nice boy but you're very much more attracted to the one who created him. it made sense after all.

"give these to mr. choi for me?" your mother all but shoves the roses and chocolates in your arms. you look down quizzically at such gifts. "it's not valentine's day.." you trail off.

you have a strange feeling that soobin would be put off by such acts, not seeming to be as out there as your mother. she doesn't care.

"it's fathers day..well it was...yesterday," she shrugs, fixing her bombshell red lipstick. why was she doing herself up? well a certain mr. choi was coming over.

despite the fact that your own father was out of the picture, that didn't stop your mom from wanting to celebrate every holiday in existence. unfortunately, the only willing father in town to partake in your mother's antics was mr. choi.

he liked to rile her up, you notice. soobin liked to toy with your mother's clear affection towards him, just as he did you. he also liked to throw it in your face sometimes. you didn't say what you observed but you knew he liked to make her feel wanted by a much younger, much more handsome man.

without another word, you decide to give the outlandish gifts to your neighbor. you sigh, looking down at the gifts. some assorted chocolates, nice flower arrangements, and what seems to be a sealed note? you want to roll your eyes but a part of you wonders if soobin would really like these kinds of things.

when you get to the door and ring the bell, the door swings open and there's stands the man himself. he's more put together than you at the moment so you feel out of place even at the front step of his house.

"always a pleasant surprise~" he smiles. his eyes trail down to the gifts in your arms. "for me?" his eyes grow wide and his pouty lips, the ones which you suddenly can't stop staring at since they seemed to be stained cherry red, lay slightly agape.

"from my mom," you deadpan, holding the gifts out. "she's generous~" "overbearing," you correct. "we seem to have different views then," he shrugs. "where's my gift from you though? this can't be all," he ponders in faux thought.

you smile shyly, looking down in embarrassment. "what did you get me baby?" he teasingly leans down closer to you to properly see your face. "could it be perhaps-"

before soobin can place a hand on you, beomgyu comes from downstairs. he's looking sharp, which suits him a lot, you admit. his hair is parted, giving you a teasing view of his forehead. regardless of the fact that he's wearing casual clothes, a stark contrast from his father who dawns an all black attire, beomgyu still manages to make it work for him.

"we'll be seeing you at the dinner," soobin clears his throat, noticing your apparent staring at his son. you can tell that he feels off put by your slight attraction to beomgyu. however small or minuscule it may be its still there to him.

the dinner goes almost exactly how you thought it would. soobin and your mother hit it off, talking about whatever they could to distract themselves from their children for a while. to your surprise soobin barely interacts with you. he seems too occupied with entertaining your mom to pay you any mind.

you're not sure why but this bothers you. beomgyu is occupied in the bathroom at the moment so you can't help but glance in their direction every couple of seconds. your mom is currently leaning against soobin's broad shoulder, laughing at something he's previously said. so he’s a comedian.

you watch as he looks down at her with a satisfied smile on his face. you bite the inside on your cheek and as if on cue, soobin looks up in your direction and smirks. it's almost as if he's taunting you. you bite down harder until you taste something metallic in your mouth.

you're not sure where this feeling of jealously is coming from and you know it's not healthy but you can't help it. maybe you've gotten too attached to your older neighbor in these past couple of weeks.

beomgyu comes out of the restroom with a sigh, walking back into the living room where you are. he can feel a weird tension in your general area but decides not to comment on it. suddenly you stand up, catching beomgyu off guard.

"come on beomgyu!" you say loud enough for everyone to hear especially soobin. the man in question practically pauses in speech midway to look over at you and his son. he eyes you both, mainly giving you a glare that will be engraved in your mind but you don't care. he needs a taste of his own medicine.

"come on let's go to my room, i need to show you something~" you urge him along. meanwhile, you say those words while staring straight at soobin. you hear your mom assure him that it's ok, "the kids are doing their own thing." you knew you were being childish and petty but if soobin wanted to fuck around with you this is what he would have to deal with as well.

you drag beomgyu along to your room who seems quite eager to be in this position. all he knows is that there's a weird tension between you and his father but that's as far as his knowledge goes.

when you both arrive at your room you close the door behind you and lean back on it. "is everything alright?" beomgyu hesitantly asks. you sigh, ushering him along to sit on the bed with you. he looks around subtly at all the little items in your room. everything seems to reflect you well, in his opinion. "well.." you try to stall.

you look up at him through your lashes. "you like me right?" beomgyu stares at you with wide eyes, "i-i mean yeah?" he stutters at your boldness.

"then lets try something," you smile at him, casually pulling your shirt over your head. "let's see how long it takes for your dad to come see us in this position," you say to yourself.

soobin doesn't need to be a rocket scientist to know what's going on here. he knows you're being a brat on purpose but he doesn't care because it makes it all the more fun. he will say he's surprised that you're using beomgyu, his own son, to get to him.

at first, he was getting annoyed with how you seemed to take a liking for his son which is why he wanted to rile you up by seeming extra interested in whatever your mom had to say. now, however, he knew he had a plan for that. you were not going to outsmart him, he wouldn't allow it and he would just have to put you in your place.

"excuse me but i need to use your restroom," soobin makes up a bullshit excuse to get to where you are. "oh of course!" your mom nods at him, instructing him towards the one upstairs. perfect.

"ill just finish up the dinner then!" your mother offers. "great that's enough time to put this slut in her place," he thinks. he smiles at your mom heading for upstairs.

"beomgyu you look like you just saw a ghost," you chuckle lightly, looking down at him. "y/n," he groans at the sight of only seeing you in your bra. he reaches up to grab your breasts, fondling them as delicately as possible. "you can be rough," you offer.

without even bothering to knock on the door, soobin opens it to see you both on the bed in a lewd position. you shirtless on top of beomgyu. he sucks his teeth when you both look back in alarm at the door being burst open. "y/n," he chuckles, almost sadistically.

you can already see the look in his eyes and suddenly you feel bad for not only yourself but beomgyu as well. you try to subtly grab your shirt again in shame but soobin's glare stops you. "what do you think you're doing little slut?" he folds his arms over his chest. not even caring that beomgyu is in the room, he walks over to you and grabs your hair causing you to yelp in surprise.

"s-sir.." soobin narrows his eyes at you then they flit over to beomgyu. "sit over there," he motions to the beanbag in the corner of the room. "i want you to learn something from this." without another word, beomgyu scrambles over to the seat, his heart beating in fear and excitement strangely.

you feel heat rising up your neck and to your cheeks as well as your dripping pussy. "don't be embarrassed, im sure this was your plan all along," soobin tsks, shoving your face down into the sheets. you breathe out when he rips the skirt and underwear from your body without a second thought. the racy thong that was supposed to be his surprise for father's day discarded in a second.

"soobin-" a smack to your ass. "that's not my name."

he doesn't even give you a chance to correct yourself, messing with your sticky juices before entering his cold fingers into your hole. you try to stifle your moan by burying your head further into the sheets.

"god you're so wet," soobin comments. he slowly moves his finger in and out for a while, practically torturing you with how meticulous and slow he's being. "please," you whine pathetically. "please what?" he slows his movements to stare at you with a raised eyebrow.

"please f-fuck me, please, i need your cock," you beg shamelessly. beomgyu breathes heavily, trying to forget about his growing boner but not being able to ignore it. he painfully wants to do something about it but he's not sure if he's allowed to touch himself.

he opts for subtly dragging his hand to his clothed crotch and palming himself through his pants, as uncomfortable as it is. in the meantime, soobin rids himself of his own pants, shaking his head.

he lightly smacks your throbbing pussy and you jolt. "do you seriously think you deserve it? fuck, look at you, can’t wait to be fucked like a bitch in heat~" you whine, wiggling your ass wordlessly in his face to hopefully get what you want.

soobin rubs your clit with narrowed eyes, making sure beomgyu is watching. he could care less that beomgyu is touching himself. he drags some of your cum from your hole to your clit and sighs. "alright then.."

he aligns himself with your hole and without another word slips his cock in with ease, completely bottoming out.

you want to scream at how big he is but you're only left with ragged pants as you know you're unable to make any loud noises. it seriously feels like you could be torn apart at any minute but you love the feeling of soobin’s cock filling you out.

"you're so tight seriously," soobin breathes. he can barely move at first. the way his dick fits inside of your pussy perfectly. he almost wants to comment about how you were practically made for him. he's sure if he flips you over right now, he would see the outline of his cock in your womb.

after waiting a bit for you to adjust to his length he finally starts moving. "shit-" he breathes. you have to grip the sheets to stop yourself from yelling. soobin's hands find their way to your waist and when you look to the side just for a split second you can see beomgyu fighting for his life to not moan out loud.

"look beomgyu-" soobin says in between jagged breaths. "if you wanna fuck around with his pathetic slut this is how you treat her." a moan gets caught in your throat when soobin pounds into you at once. "ah- i-" a part of you wants to apologize and is trying to but he won't give you a chance to speak.

"isn't that right my slutpuppy? did you have something to add?" at the sound of the nickname your walls tighten around him and he sends a harsh smack to your ass. "you're enjoying this aren't you?" he rolls his eyes and sighs heavily.

soobin thrusts start getting faster and faster, beomgyu watching with his mouth agape at his father kissing and sucking at your neck to muffle his own moans. beomgyu can only bite his lip and noises from his throat barely pass his lips as he reaches his high.

soobin growls at seeing your eyes focus on beomgyu so he starts slamming his cock into you at an animalistic pace and you think you might break.

beomgyu bucks into his hand as he cums from the sound and sight of skin slapping added with the tiny noises you'd make. not too long after you feel yourself shudder, unable to warn soobin that you had come you squeeze your eyes shut and let out a whine instead.

"fuck- ok baby," soobin understands as soon as your walls squeeze around him. he pants a couple a times and as soon as he reaches his high he pulls out, pumping his cock to let his cum shoot out on your ass.

"s-sir," you moan. "shhh it's ok." soobin sighs heavily, coming down from his own high to tend to your broken state. he looks over at beomgyu, who's head is lulled to the side as he gazes at your sweat and semen covered body.

soobin sucks his teeth deciding not to say anything to the boy and let him chill for a minute. he shrugs his pants back on and carries you in his arms to the nearest bathroom.

you cozy up to his warm embrace, letting out a sigh. "baby we need to clean you off.." you hear him whisper. you almost completely forget that there's a dinner that's supposed to be happening and you cant just go to sleep with soobin like you'd want.

a sudden coldness hits your body and you shiver. "ok," you agree. his cum is already starting to dry on you and you want nothing more than to be cleaned like he offers. you're not sure how you'll explain your change of clothes to your mom but you're sure you'll come up with something later.

no words need to be spoken after what happened and you're glad because you're not sure what to say. soobin doesn't seem keen on talking at the moment either, too focused on cleaning you off, so you decide to stay quiet.

it's silent in the bathroom until you both hear your mother all out. "dinner's ready!"

you chuckle, breaking the silence as soobin looks up at you with a questioning eyebrow. “happy father’s day.”

[oftenderweapons]

Apple Of My Pie (7) — Jin

A Small Town Swoons story 

Chapter 7. 

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Buttercup)

Wordcount: 7.1k words

Genre: non-idol!AU, Baker/Café owner!Seokjin, University student!reader Flatmates!AU, Friends To Lovers, Fluff, slightest angst, smut

Rating: 18+ (NSFW content)

A/N: Hello my sweet poppies! Welcome to the Small Town Swoon Universe! 🥰✨

In this episode: Jin and Buttercup finally reunite, and although the real world tries to interrupt their small idyll, Seokjin has the strength to finally impose his needs and confess his feelings. The evening proceeds in the best of ways.

As I mentioned before, this episode made me write things I didn’t know I had in me. Also, this will be the final episode for their storyline, however you will see more of Jin and Buttercup on future stories, mostly in small apparitions here and there. I might come back to this story someday, maybe with some drabbles or some small headcanons, however, I think that now it’s time to let Jin and Buttercup live their special moments with in their own privacy and make up for lost time.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: this is filthy. There’s swearing and light alcohol consumption (wine at dinner, both are pretty sober afterwards). Now, about the filth. Degradation kink, breast worship (involves kissing, licking, biting, grabbing), breast slapping, nipple pinching, one (1) spank, foodplay involving ice cream (so mild temperature play), dom!Seokjin, slightly bratty!reader, grinding, masturbation (both male and female receiving), brief mention of oral (male receiving), cumplay, cumeating, creampie, unprotected sex (please don’t do like them. The right way to go about this would be to use condoms and/or dental dams until you and your partner get the results of the test and are 110% sure you’re clean. If you have any questions, please head to Planned Parenthood’s website, they have wonderful webpages about safe, sane and consensual sex, plus anything you need to keep your sexual health in check. If you can’t check their website, please feel welcome to reach out to me through DMs, I’ll try to help 🥰💜). Also reader is kind of excited about Seokjin being circumcised? And these two have a latent impregnation kink that will show up someday. There are slightly angst discussion about past partners and feelings, but nothing extreme.

Remember to vote for next prompt (check the link in my bio) and in case you need it, here’s my masterlist 💜

In case you need it, here is the music companion

Enjoy ✨💜

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

Seokjin woke up with the ringing of a phone.

He appreciated the warmth and weight next to him, half on top of him.

He looked at you. He allowed himself to do that only for a couple seconds.

Your phone was ringing, and he needed to pick it up before it woke you.

Your face had been so scared and tired when he first saw it at the front door.

He stood and picked up the call just in time.

“Oh, thank God, Buttercup where are you?” Jeongguk’s voice came from the phone.

“It’s Seokjin. She’s with me, at the apartment. She’s sleeping.” He replied, his voice gravelly after being under the cold rain and sleeping for almost two hours.

“She’s with you?”

“Yes, she’s here. She’s sleeping.” Seokjin repeated.

“Kim Seokjin. I am going to kill you!” Yoongi said, stealing the phone from Jeongguk. “We were all looking for her. Poor Jeongguk was in a panic. Are you stupid? Outright dumb? What is it, both your two miserable neurons decided to throw a strike today? Did they accidentally crash and perish? Did they finally decide to end their suffering?”

“Yoongi. Stop,” said Spice from a distance. “She’s safe, stop acting like an overprotective parent.”

“Is she okay? Is she hurt?” Yoongi asked.

“No. I found her here, taking her stuff away.” Seokjin said, his body tensing at the thought. “Is she leaving? What is going on?”

“She’s going to the cottage with Namjoon. They’re leaving on Monday.”

Seokjin rolled his shoulders before exhaling. “How has she been in the last few weeks?”

“A mess. Sad, miserable. And it’s your fault.” Yoongi spoke with vitriolic hostility in his voice.

“I’m gonna fix it, Yoongi. I promise.” Seokjin said, his voice extremely emotional as he looked at you. Your eyes were open and you had the tiniest smile on.

“Are you gonna talk to her? Actually confess? Tell her you love her and be done with all the insecure, selfish bullshit?”

“I’m gonna talk to her.” Seokjin replied, still looking at you. “I’ve got a bunch of stuff to come clear with. And I’ll tell her I’m in love with her. And that she’s not going to Namjoon’s. She’s staying with me.” He winked. “She needs to eat and regain some strength before she goes to the woods, if she still wants to go. I’ll tell her ‘Buttercup, I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for four years.’” His voice broke. “‘I don’t want to spend one more day without you’, that’s what I’ll tell her.”

You were still incredulous, completely still under the blanket.

“And then I’ll ask her to be my girlfriend, and if she turns me down, then it’s alright. I’ll take it like a gentleman. I’ll let her be. But if there’s even a tiny, minuscule part of her that wants to say yes, then I won’t let her go until she agrees to become my girlfriend.” Seokjin explained, with determination filling his voice.

Yoongi got emotional. “Go tell her before you change your mind.”

“She’s right in front of me. She heard every single word.”

“Then I guess you have more important stuff than stay on the phone with me.”

Seokjin chuckled. “Hopefully kiss my new girlfriend, if she lets me.”

You didn’t even understand what was going on before you nodded energetically.

“She said yes. I gotta go.” Jin’s mouth shaped into a large, proud grin.

“Sure. Stay safe. I’m too young to become an uncle.” Yoongi teased with a snicker.

“Goodnight uncle.” Seokjin replied before closing the call.

Your stares stayed locked together as he placed down the phone.

His expression turned serious but kind. “You’re awake.”

You blinked and licked your lips. “I am.” You took a pause, inhaling. “And I want to kiss you.”

He mirrored your action, his tongue slipping out, wetting the seam of his mouth, directing your glance there. “I want to clear things up, before that.”

You closed your eyes, trying not to lose your patience. “What is there to clear up?”

“I just wanted to explain stuff. About Grace and all of the rest...”

From the insecure, agitated look in his eyes, you realised he was scared. You patted the sofa, inviting him to sit beside you. He followed your lead. “I’m listening.” You reassured him, placing your hand on top of his knee.

“When I started dating Grace, I was convinced I could never stand a chance with you. And though Yoongi insisted on the fact that you had feelings for me, I was too shy and too scared to risk it. And after living with you and being so… united. So domestic… I couldn’t handle my feelings anymore.”

You rubbed his arm comfortingly, sitting up, trying to reassure him, to heal him from all those months of insecurities and silence and denial.

“I tried to suppress them. And Grace looked so kind, so respectful. And she’s a beautiful young woman. I could see myself falling for her.”

You pressed your forehead against his shoulder. You still had to realise that such a gesture had a deeper, somehow different meaning, that from then on you were allowed to do that and more.

“But the closer I got to her — and the farther I got from you — the more it all felt wrong. And I don’t even know why I did what I did that Saturday — well Sunday, you know what I mean anyway. I think some part of me was angry because of Edmund or something, or because I thought that I could stop thinking about you if I found someone else to think about and that makes me an absolute idiot—”

You interrupted him. “Don’t hide from me. Ever.” You cupped his face and made him look at you. “You were hurt. And I took similar decisions. What I did with Edmund was somehow similar to what you did with Grace. It’s just that you two had feelings for each other while—” The idea of him being in love with someone else squeezed your lungs until you felt empty.

“I’ve never felt someone as deeply as I feel you, though. I’ve never felt so many things for anyone else beside you.” He said, his eyelashes fluttering as he looked at your lips.

“I love you.” You murmured. There were no other words you could use. “I’m in love with you and I’m not angry that you tried to forget and move on. It doesn’t matter that we fucked or made love to other people. I don’t care that you didn’t tell me. The only thing that matters is that you’re here now and I love you so much.”

He repositioned himself so he could look at you without getting a crick in his neck. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, soft and delicate, worried even.

“Because I couldn’t think about losing you. Because I didn’t even realise I was in love before you started spending time with Grace. Well, I knew I was attracted to you and that I considered you my friend, but I had never really allowed myself to consider I could have more. I was happy with what we had, and I never realised I could lose it, or that someone else could have it instead of me.”

He touched your hair.

“I was okay with what we had. Asking for more felt selfish. Like I was being greedy.”  You lowered your eyes, his gaze too intense for you to resist.

“I want you to be greedy, Buttercup.” He whispered, his hand cupping your jaw. “I want you to take all of me and not leave a crumb for anyone else.” His body felt closer, hotter. “I love you, Buttercup. And not in the friendly way. I love you in a very passionate, very hungry way.” His thumb traced your lower lip as he gazed at it heatedly. “Do you love me too?”

You nodded recklessly, almost snapping your neck. “I love you. In a very unfriendly, very sexy way.”

He smiled. “Good.”

His mouth lowered gently, reaching yours, his whole body inching forward until your eyes lost focus and closed. It was a good kiss. Not perfect but good.

Jin’s lips felt soft against your mouth, maybe a bit too delicate, still, definitely pleasing. With just a pinch of mischief, you pulled at his lower lip lightly, biting it delicately.

The growl he emitted had you smiling before you repeated your teasing move, drawing him in. He exhaled and opened his mouth, sucking your upper lip past his teeth.

That felt better than good, leaning to perfect.

What actually made it perfect was his body completely caving in as he manoeuvred himself on top of you, holding himself up with one hand as his hand explored your body deliciously, caressing your hair, your shoulder before reaching your waist.

Helpless and desperate, you pressed the tip of your tongue against his lower lip, pushing it into his mouth.

His hips pressed sinfully against your thigh as he groaned and tangled his tongue with yours.

You moaned and he whimpered in return, a growl vibrating deep in his throat.

His hand moved under your shirt, stopping abruptly.

Dammit.

Your stomach rumbled noisily, making Seokjin part from you. “You’re really hungry.”

You blushed and looked away. “Yeah.”

He hid his face into your neck, snickering. His breath tickled you. “You feel so good right here.” He said, snuggling closer. “But I have to feed you first.” His fingers dug into your sides. “You’re thin.”

Your nails raked against his back. “I had a bit of a hard time in the last few days.” You mentioned casually.

“Can’t have you like this.” He parted from your body, studying your face attentively. “Let’s get you fed.” He whispered, pecking your lips and standing up, heading to the kitchen.

“You’re kidding, right?” You stood up on wobbly legs and followed him.

He looked back at you. “Not at all.” Jin theatrically opened the fridge and lifted an eyebrow. “Chicken wraps. Salad. An abundant dose of ice cream. I need you sugared up.”

You looked at him with a pout.

“It’s the quickest meal I can arrange, Buttercup. We can have dinner in forty and then cuddle and make out. Dinner is non-negotiable.” He said, getting the chicken strips and the large tortillas, together with cherry tomatoes and cheese.

“Can’t we just… postpone dinner?” You said, too caught up in your grovelling to bring up memories of him and Grace in the kitchen.

“Why would we need to postpone dinner?” He asked, slipping some butter into a pan, together with some garlic, moving the chicken strips onto the pan and roasting them quickly with a random — and a very delicious-smelling — mix of spices.

You dragged your foot against the floor, trying to look demure. “You know why...”

He snickered devilishly. “We’ve waited for four years. One more hour won’t hurt you. Cut the cherry tomatoes, please.”

“Especially because we waited for years we should be forgoing dinner.”

He laughed. “I won’t have you fainting on me. Dinner, then whatever you want, Buttercup. Cut those tomatoes, you’re postponing the fun.” He said, adding a spoonful of chicken broth to keep the meat in the pan soft and tasty.

“Now I remember how insufferable you truly are.” You said, starting with the cutting.

He smirked. “You’re stuck with me from now on, doll.”

“I’m revoking the love declaration.” You muttered.

“Are you revoking your undying lust for me too?” He asked, turning towards you with a lopsided, cocky grin.

You just looked at him with the most insulting look you could muster before returning to the tomatoes.

“Such a good girl. Still cutting those tomatoes to get her reward.” He joked.

Once, this kind of nagging was absent minded, innocent and playful. Now it was outright sexual. Especially since the praise had a shiver running down your spine.

“Don’t tease if you’re gonna make me wait.” You groaned.

He bent and kissed your cheek. “I’m doing it for your good, Buttercup.” He moved to your earlobe. “You’ll thank me later, doll.” He nibbled on the soft skin. “I promise it will feel so good, Buttercup.”

You stretched your neck to the side, offering him the expanse of taut, corded throat.

He grazed it with his teeth, drawing the purple-greenish line of your jugular.

“I bet you taste so damn good,” he murmured, sucking at the base of your throat.

“Jinnie.” You called delicately.

He parted from you abruptly. “Dinner. First, dinner.” He reminded himself. “Dammit, you’re such a tease.” He complained, picking up another larger pan to heat up the tortillas. He also added a light sprinkle of flour to the chicken, to give a creamier texture to the sauce made by the broth and the butter. Once the first tortilla was warm, he placed the chicken on top, mingling it with the tomato pieces and the cheese while you prepared the salad.

Dinner was ready in twenty minutes, the wonderful smell of spices filling your nostrils and making your mouth water as you sat and stared at your tortilla, waiting for Jin to sit down himself. He also added an interesting bottle of white wine to the mix, matching the chicken.

“Enjoy.” He exclaimed before digging in himself.

Your whole mouth was feasting at the taste of the food.

It could feast for something better, your hormones reminded you, but you let that slip.

Dinner was uneventful, the both of you too busy and hungry and tense to start a conversation.

While you were thinking about how to tell Jin you wanted him to ram you into the mattress and slap your tits, he thought whether it was okay for him to want sex already. Okay, technically you had been friends for years, but maybe you wanted to wait, go on actual dates, be a couple, in an official relationship before letting him make love to you.

It was pretty clear that any kind of conversation between such two people would evidently elucidate any semblance of doubt, but it would also be a minefield of misunderstandings and potentially very embarrassing bushes to beat around.

So you both stayed silent, completely oblivious to the lessons you had learned roughly an hour ago.

By the time he stood and prepared a small bowl of plain milk gelato, topped with his special wild berries sauce, doubt had nagged at him enough that he was ready to speak.

He placed the bowl on the table. A lovely royal blue bowl. It was his favourite. Maybe because it was his mother’s favourite. He sat down and patted his hands against his thighs. “Come here.” He murmured.

You obliged, settling on his lap contentedly. He took a spoonful of dessert, making sure that he got some sauce in it before offering it to your awaiting mouth. “Eat up, doll.”

You opened your mouth and enjoyed the refreshing feel of the gelato against your palate.

“I need you to listen to me, Buttercup.” He started. “I know we confessed our feelings and that we’ve been attracted to each other for a very long time.”

You nodded, watching as he offered another spoonful as soon as you opened your mouth.

“I just want you to know that I’m dying to make love to you tonight, but we don’t have to. It’s okay if you want to… I don’t know, get physically intimate a bit at a time, or if you want it to be something special, or—”

You interrupted him. “I want to make love to you too, tonight.”

Your eyes followed him as he licked his lips. “Shall we bring this to the bedroom then?”

Nodding you stood up, going for the living room and grabbing the comforter, walking down the corridor and looking at him from over your shoulder. “What are you waiting for?” You asked before disappearing into his room.

He shook his head in disbelief before grabbing more wild berries sauce. Maybe, hopefully…

He took the bowl of ice cream and a spoon, taking his time before entering his room.

You were already laying on his bed, head to toe a vision.

You had already removed your yoga pants and you were laying there in an oversized t-shirt.

“Tell me how you want me to treat you, Buttercup.” He asked, studying you as he took a mouthful of gelato to his mouth.

“Undress first. Then come here. Feed me that delicious dessert and then feed me your cock.” You said, completely unashamed as his burning gaze explored your naked skin.

“I won’t feed you my cock, sorry doll.” He said, placing the bowl on the nightstand together with the sauce. “I’ll need to suck on your pretty tits first.” He took off his sweater in a flash, your eyes reacquainting with his naked chest, bathing in the glorious width of it. It was really breathtaking, with its plains and slopes and dips.

“You’re gorgeous.” You murmured, looking at him while your hand went to your breast, palming it and teasing the peak while he took off his sweatpants. Watching the delicious shape of him from over his boxers had you moaning just slightly, whimpering weakly before your hand slid under your shirt to grab at your flushed, overheated chest.

Seokjin caught your wrist vigorously, pulling it out. “Those are mine to touch, doll.” He reprimanded you. “All mine.” He repeated, straddling your waist, pinning your hands up.

You looked at him with a wicked smile. This, this, was your best friend, the man you had loved for years. And here he was, pinning your wrists, ready to mark your breasts, to own them.

“Keep ‘em there.” He ordered, letting go of your wrists before stretching his fingers to completely hold your breasts, kneading them lightly to test the texture.

“Fuck, they're so soft.” His eyes closed as he felt them up appreciatively. “I can't wait to suck these.” He said, and his unashamed comment opened another new world to you. His thumbs found your nipples, rolling them under the plush pads of his fingers. “You like this?” He asked, looking in your eyes.

You nodded, stretching toward the bedside table and switching on the small lamp there. “Wanna see you.” You explained, looking at him, waiting for a reaction.

“Are you sure? You okay with me watching?” He asked, just as your eyes closed and your back arched, your breasts pushing against his palms, your throat emitting the shyest moan.

“Oh, you like this a lot, don't you, Buttercup?” He snickered, bending down to kiss your neck. “Let me hear how good it feels, honey,” He murmured, sucking at your skin gently.

“Please, I want my shirt off, Jin.” That's all you managed to say, squeezing your thighs together once you realised he wasn't giving you anything to grind against.

“You want me to touch your naked skin?” He asked, making you grow even more desperate.

“Please. Jin…”

He looked at your face. It was absolutely adorable as it scrunched up in disappointment, a lovely pout making your lips rounder, softer, plumper. He kissed them briefly. “Sit up, lovely. Let's take this shirt off.” He murmured with a deep baritone timbre.

The shirt was gone in a second, his mouth latching on a nipple before you could even take off the shirt completely.

His hips ground against your belly, his erection pressing hard against your navel while you laid back down, his front arching away from you as his mouth stayed attached to your chest.

“Please, gimme…” You tried to speak, needing something to ease the pressure between your thighs, where your throbbing clitoris felt unforgivably neglected.

“What?” He asked, parting from your breast and looking so blissful and confused, like he didn't even know what was going on, like your breasts had given him a total reset and all he could remember, all he could ever want and do was to stay there and suck, completely oblivious to anything but the object of his lust.

“Need you down there,” was all you managed to say, still too high from the promises of pleasure.

He grinned *hazily. “Down where?” He asked, teasing and unforgiving.

You exhaled and whimpered. “I need you between my legs.”

“Between your legs where, Buttercup? Don't be shy.”

At that you snapped. “If you intend to keep sucking my nipples could you please kindly press your thigh against my clit? I need to grind on something and you're being too fucking uncooperative.”

He laughed almost hysterically. “Of course, Buttercup. See, was it so hard to ask?” He commented, almost too patronising.

“You're making me want to shut your mouth.” You replied, pushing your hips up and finally meeting his hard thigh, giving a low moan.

“Too bad that would keep me from doing this.” He said, sitting up slightly, grabbing the spoon from the bowl and pressing the cold metal to your areola, spreading a thick layer of ice cream there while your hot skin made it melt and dribble down.

“Fucking hell.” You said, watching as his tongue slid out and collected the rivulet of cream that was dangerously rolling down towards the sheets, almost staining them.

His eyes found yours and he grinned. “Feels good?”

You nodded. “Do that again, please.”

He obliged, this time reaching the peak and sucking it, his mouth opening wide as he tried to suck away as much dessert as possible.

Your left hand went to his head, holding him against your breast while your right one went to his ass, pressing it down so that your pelvis and his met, grinding against each other deliciously, his mouth leaving the sucking motion to release a heavy exhale.

“You have the most beautiful tits I've ever seen and touched, Buttercup. They feel so soft and warm and good.” He murmured, so aroused it almost felt painful. “I love them so much.” He confessed, pressing them together and dipping his face in between, moving it side to side. “I love you so damn much, ____.”

He gave a few thrusts with his hips, before pressing his cock harshly between your bodies, your skin feeling so sensitive that you thought you could feel it throb against you.

“I want you inside.” You whispered, grinding into him in response. “Tell me you used a condom the other time.”

He nodded. “I always have.”

You nodded in reply. “You sure you’re clean?”

“I got tested before Grace. And she’s clean.” He said, slowing down at the mention of his ex.

You nodded. “I got checked after Edmund, for peace of mind. All safe.”

“Thank fuck.” He commented, biting the underside of your boob. “I can’t wait to feel you raw on me. If you’re okay with that.”

You confirmed, bobbing your head so energetically you thought it would detach from your neck. “Want to feel you cum inside.” You murmured while he bit his lip and got more ice cream, covering your other breast, the cold of the food and the spoon making you keen and purr. “Is this what you were doing while she made those sounds?”

He tutted and shook his head. “I’ve always wanted this with you. It would never please me as much with anyone else.”

You rolled your eyes. “Liar.”

He arched an eyebrow and stopped his licking and sucking motions, sinking his teeth into your flesh, eliciting a gasp from you, leaving his position only once he was sure he had left a mark. “What did you say?”

“That you’re a liar. That you like this more with me than with anyone else,” you replied, cocky and bratty.

Without thinking twice, he slapped your left breast violently, not even trying to be delicate.

You squealed, your whole body flinching before your fingers gripped the sheets tightly.

“You think I would do this with just anyone?” He asked, almost angry, the hard bite in his voice scaring you just a little.

He eyed the other breast meaningfully, placing his hand there but not slapping the full curve until you shook your head yes, giving him permission.

The second blow had you losing your mind completely, your cunt so sensitive that you felt a heavy gush of arousal drip out of your entrance. “No, Jin.”

“Grip the headboard and stay still.” He said, sitting up and tugging your panties down, the fabric almost ripping at the aggressive movements. “Maybe you don’t get how much you turn me on, Buttercup.” He grinned, looking at you finally naked in front of him.  “Do you know how many times I saw those perky nipples under my shirts? How many times I thought about covering them in any food imaginable?”

You shook your head. “Maybe I wanted you to lay me on top of the kitchen table and shove your cock in my cunt and bruise my tits all over.” You replied, batting your lashes innocently. “Maybe call me your dirty little slut. Throw in a couple spanks.”

He stopped everything he was doing, entirely frozen.

“Is that how you like it?” He asked, completely focused on your reply.

You licked your lips. “With you I might like that, yes.”

“You want to be my dirty little slut?” He asked, staring into your eyes, quoting your words exactly.

You inhaled and nodded.

“You want me to degrade you?” He asked again, settling between your legs and rubbing your thighs.

Again, you shook your head yes.

“What if I called you my cockstarved whore?” He said, slightly hesitant.

You smiled and closed your eyes. “Why don’t you do that while squeezing my cheeks with one hand and slapping my tits with the other?”

He snickered. “You really are a filthy animal, uh?” He slapped your breast and bent down to your face. “You want me to use you like a fuckdoll, mh?”

“Yes, please.”

“I need to stretch you first, though, love.” He said, softening for a second. “Now, out of our little game here, I don’t want to hurt you like that, yes?”

Your mind sobered up for a minute as you listened to him.

“Listen to me now, Buttercup. We need a safeword, love.” He said, touching your face. “You okay with colours? Green is good, yellow is slow down, red is stop.”

“I’m good with that.” You replied, trying to reach his face with yours. “Can you kiss me, please?”

His expression turned longing and fond before he took his time, making love to your mouth with his, his kiss so deep and demanding and passionate until he felt how wet you were against his thigh.

“You’re drenched, doll.” He said, smirking at you. “I want to feel your pretty hand around my cock, Buttercup. Stroke me while I stretch you, love.”

You nodded, your hands leaving the headboard lightning fast sliding into his underwear with speed you doubted you could muster in any other circumstances.

“Fuck, you’re thick.” You said once your fingers wrapped around him.

“That’s what the stretching is for, Buttercup.” He grinned as he looked down at you. His fingers slipped into your slit effortlessly, your inner muscles gripping him immediately.

“And you’re tight. So damn tight.” He replied, bending down to lick at your chest, suctioning your areola into his mouth, shaking his head, making your whole breast bounce in a movement that was too mild to cause pleasure, weren’t it for the incredible amount of arousal circling in your bloodstream.

“Please, Jin. Inside. I’m begging. Please.” You pleaded, stroking him, feeling how long and thick and hot he was, filled with ridges and veins. And he was circumcised. None of your previous partners were.

You explored the differences with your fingers, the lack of skin there so interesting and unusual.

“You like that?” He asked, gritting his teeth as he felt his cock flutter, a drop of precum leaving his slit.

You nodded as you caught his arousal, spreading over the soft, spongy tip, completely undisturbed by foreskin. “I want to see it.” You said before a long moan left your lips, his fingers hitting a sensitive spot inside you, rubbing it with slow movements of his index and middle finger, hooking them and pressing intensely against the smoothest patch of skin. “Oh, god.” You murmured, your eyes fluttering shut as he added his thumb on your clit.

“Cum on my fingers, Buttercup.” He growled. “Then I’ll let you see my cock. You need to cum first, though. Cum for me.”

While your hand stroked him lightly, absentmindedly, the rest of your body focused exclusively on the feel of his digits inside you. ‘I’m close’ was all you managed to say before your hips started following your high, your body becoming completely unresponsive to any semblance of control your mind tried to impose.

“Cum, love.” He said, and your whole being responded, your hand stilling, your breathing stopping, your eyes opening wide before closing again while ecstasy possessed you.

“Yes, love. That’s it. My filthy thing. Show me how you do it.” He spurred you on, watching your body contort in pleasure.

“Jin.” You whined, the first sound you managed to emit since you came apart for him.

“Yes.” He said, removing his thumb from your clit and adding another finger inside you, stretching you wide before you called a yellow.

He extracted his fingers and laid them flat against your mound. “I think I promised you my cock, uh?”

Grinning wildly, you agreed, trying to tug his boxers off. “I want it. I earned it. Give it to me.”

He snickered, cleaning his hand against your breast before collecting your taste and what was left of the gelato with the flat of his tongue. “How demanding.”

“I’ve waited four years. Can’t you just do me already?”

“We could have waited way, way less.” He said, taking the bowl with only a spoonful of molten ice cream, tipping it teasingly over your torso, drawing a line that went from your belly button to your mouth, which you opened wide, letting the liquid dribble in.

Seokjin stared in wonder, imagining something else spilling into your mouth. Once there was nothing left, he placed the bowl back on the bedside table, bending down and licking up the line of cream he had drawn, slowing down to make sure he didn’t leave too much of a mess.

By the time he reached your neck and chin, he was ready to explode with want, his whole body needing to claim, own, possess.

“Is my little slut ready?” He asked, lingering over your face. “Or does she need to learn some more patience?”

You shook your head, licking his lips. “Please.” You begged, your nails raking down his back.

“That’s a good slut. You’re begging for my cock?”

You nodded.

“And you’re so dumb for it you even lost your words?”

You nodded again, grinning.

“She’s the smartest little bean and still gets silly for my cock.” He smiled fondly, almost insultingly. “That’s my pretty fuckdoll.”

He laid down beside you, finally freeing his cock as he arched his hips off the bed and removed his underwear.

Your eyes focused on his dick immediately, the shaft so beautiful, covered in veins just like you had imagined when you had felt it underneath your fingertips.

“Dammit. It’s...” You bent over him, getting your hands on him, bringing your face closer to his crotch, wanting to learn every single detail by heart. “Jin.”

“What.” He replied before throwing his head back, his fingers going to the pillow and gripping it, his hand leaving the fabric to press his palm to his mouth.

You had teasingly taken his tip into your mouth, his skin feeling so smooth and hot, salty, your cheeks and tongue eager to squeeze him tentatively, feeling just how spongy his flesh felt.

He moaned sinfully. “You’re really hungry, aren’t you, my naughty slut.” His hand reached the crown of your head, caressing your head before pulling you off. “I wanna cum in your dripping cunt, Buttercup. Come up here.”

“What if I wanna blow you?” You teased, arching an eyebrow.

“Maybe I’ll let you do that for round four or something, come up here, let me fill that tight warm cunt.”

Closing your eyes, smiling slowly, you straddled his hips. “You’d better keep your mouth on my boobs in the process.”

He giggled. “Wouldn’t have it any different. Come here.” He opened his arms and you propped yourself on your elbows. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You cupped his cheek and waited for him to kiss you.

He obliged. “Feels so good to taste me on your tongue.” He murmured, stroking your back.

“I haven’t even properly taken you in my mouth.” You quipped, slightly petty.

He smiled and grabbed his cock, placing the tip against your entrance. “I’ll make up for it.” He kissed your cheek. “Take your time.”

You nodded and lowered yourself slowly. Taking the first few inches was blissful, the lack of barrier making him slide easily.

“Fuck, it feels good.” He growled. “You feel so warm and tight, love. You feel fucking amazing.”

You purred as you took some more, the stretch becoming more difficult. Your inner muscles contracted, making you come to a halt.

“Holy fuck.” He murmured, his hips pushing in before he managed to control himself. “Sorry, Buttercup, so sorry.” He apologised as you flinched. He kissed your face repeatedly. “I’m so sorry.” He touched your cheek.

“It feels good, but I need to—” You took more of him. “Go slow.”

He nodded and felt your breast against his palm, hanging heavy, right there for him to reach and touch and fondle and suck. “Sure thing, love.” He looked into your eyes. “Tell me how I can make it better.”

You shook your head. “Just hold me, please.”

He wrapped you in his arms just as you took all of him, sitting on him. “Yes, ____. You are so perfect.”

You closed your eyes, breathing in through your mouth. Slowly, you started rotating your hips, feeling how his cock filled you, pulsating inside you. “Jinnie. I love you.”

“I love you too, Buttercup.” He spoke gently, assisting you as you started riding him, his fingers gripping your hips gently.

“You’re so hot.” You whined, biting your lip, watching as his face contorted in pleasure. “I love you so much,” you said with a whimper, your inner walls constricting around him.

“Stop getting tighter, it feels too good.” He whispered, chuckling in desperation.

“Don’t you wanna fill me up?” You looked at him, batting your eyelashes. “I want you to. Please.” You spoke through a pout, moving faster on him.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to keep himself grounded.

You slowly rose to a sitting position, leaving the warmth of his embrace. “Don’t keep me waiting.” You provoked him, spreading your tiny hands over his insanely wide chest, your nails teasing him just a little. “I know you want to watch me drip in your cum.”

He exhaled heavily before giving a deep, breathy laugh, like a short series of hiccups. “You think you deserve my cum, you dirty slut?” He licked his lips, observing your tits shake right in front of his face before slapping them, earning a moan from you. “You really like them slapped, uh? Let’s see if you like spanks too.” He taunted before landing a heavy smack on your ass, enjoying the squeeze of your kegels. “And that pussy likes to clench me so tight.” He grinned, watching as your hand reached your clit, your eyes closed, your hair messy around your face. “Yeah, touch yourself, Buttercup.”

Your gaze met his, your chest blushing as your high approached. “I’m close.”

“It’s okay, keep touching yourself, love. I want you to feel good, honey.” His hips thrust in from beneath, making the stimulation more intense.

“I’m cumming,” you whimpered, leaning even more into your hand as your angle shifted, his cock hitting all the right spots inside you.

As soon as your body crashed on his, Seokjin caught you, holding you close while his throbbing cock kept pistoning in and out of you, focusing on making your orgasm last as he started zeroing in on his own.

“Keep it up, love,” he growled sternly while he felt his restraint slip, “I’m gonna get my slut sloppy with my cum, then I’m gonna lay her on her back and keep it plugged inside her while I fill her up some more.”

You only sobbed and squealed as you felt him get absolutely wild, growling as he gave messier strokes before sinking in deep and staying there, his cock pulsating and spilling his release inside your sensitive walls.

“Goodness, fuck, love. Never had a cunt this good.” He growled, holding his position for a minute, both of you exhausted and breathing heavily.

“Are you really going to do that?” You asked as soon as you came to your senses.

He blinked. “What?”

“The flipping on my back and going for round two?” You asked, parting from him just enough to look him in the face.

“Am I soft?” He asked you, arching an eyebrow.

You squeezed him with your kegels, his lower lip disappearing between his teeth as he felt you get impossibly tighter. “No.” You replied, looking into his dark gaze.

“Then you have your answer.” He smirked before executing his power move, your back hitting the sheets while he adjusted himself on top of you. “Grab the headboard. Hold on tight.” He said before sliding out and snapping his hips forward, his dick hitting the deepest corner of your sex.

“Oh, damn.”

He chuckled ruthlessly. “Damn right.” He replied cockily, slamming into you again, setting a fast, angry pace, watching your lips open wide, his cock coaxing cry after cry from your throat. “Are you gonna cum for me again? Milk this cock with your juicy cunt?”

You nodded helplessly, arching your chest up, trying to get his attention on your nipples.

He bent down obediently, giving you exactly what you were silently asking, his tongue laving your left areola in lazy, teasing licks. “Touch your clit.” He commanded, feeling his edge come around.

While his cock kept ramming in and out of you, his mouth went to your throat, biting you, his neck contorting as he tried to pay more attention to your sensitive skin.

Your fingers reached your clit just as he sunk his teeth in the soft curve of your bosom.

“Jin, please.” You croaked, your hips meeting his while the room filled with the sound of skin smashing against skin, the headboard thumping against the wall, the feet of the bed scraping against the floor, his laboured breath interrupting once you felt his cock spill inside you again with the strange, pleasurable sensation of his cum spurting against your walls.

You whimpered, hoping you could still cum one more time, but ready to give that up, if need be.

“Come on, Buttercup. One more. I know you can.” He said, staying inside you, arching off of you and slapping your breast again. “I know you’re still hungry for my cock. Give me one more, my lovely little slut. Gimme more, love. I’m waiting for you.” He said, watching your fingers work your clit furiously.

“Again, Jin.” You whimpered, your voice breaking.

“This?” He asked, hitting again.

“Yes, Jin, Yes. Please, Seokjin.” You begged. “Please, I love you, please, make it good. Please, please, please.” You cooed and chanted, so lost in pleasure you felt your high peak and before it shoved you tumbling downhill, pleasure making you soar and precipitate, like a small bird in a storm.

“Oh, you’re cumming, Buttercup.” He observed delivering small hits to your nipples before pinching one, then the other, tweaking them energetically but carefully.

“Jin.” You whimpered in a long moan.

“Oh, yes, ____. It’s me love. You’re with me, love.” He said, just as you tried getting closer to him, your hand resting on your mound while your other arm wrapped around him.

“I love you.” You whispered, your breath calming down. “I’ll never stop saying it.”

He rolled the both of you on your sides, looking at each other.

“I love you too, Buttercup.” He whispered, bringing you closer to him. “We’re both so messy.”

“The ice cream got so sticky.” You complained sadly, giving him a tired look.

“We should shower.” He considered, kissing your lips.

“You really feel like standing up?”

He eyed you eloquently. “I haven’t even slid out of you yet.”

You hummed. “Don’t want you to.” You mused, nuzzling into him.

“We need to clean you up.” He said, stroking your hair fondly. “My adorable messy slut.” He said with the expression and tone of the most affectionate praise.

You purred under his touch, feeling something flutter in your guts. “Don’t say it if you’re not going to torture me afterwards.”

He chuckled. “Let’s clean you up and get some rest. I’ll give you round three if you behave.”

“And then I can blow you for round four?” You asked, eyes bright and inquisitive.

He outright laughed, the sound making you laugh too. “Maybe.” He said, cupping your cheek and pulling out of you slowly, grabbing his boxers to clean you up as delicately as possible before you both stood and walked to the bathroom.

Seokjin woke up around five am, his alarm telling him it was time to get ready for Sunday shift. He would come back in time to make you breakfast — and maybe make love to you afterwards.

Switching off the alarm, he slid out of your grip, your arm thrown possessively around his waist.

He caressed your face before kissing your forehead and stepping away, knowing that it would take a catastrophe to take himself away from you if he lingered for too long.

Your eyes opened when the alarm stopped, watching his back as he disappeared into the bathroom.

When he came back, he was fully dressed, only his shoes and coat missing. You opened your eyes as he pressed his lips to your cheek. “Bakery?” You asked. “Don’t you have someone for the morning shift?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been considering getting some help. At least for a couple mornings a week.”

You hummed and nodded. “I can come along if you need.”

He denied. “Stay here. I wanna find you sleepy and cosy when I come back. Remember round five?”

You smiled and hid into the pillow. “Yes, please.”

He smiled along. “Good. Go back to sleep, Buttercup. We’re going on our first date today.”

----------------------------------------------

Navi: Chapter 1 — Chapter 2 — Chapter 3 — Chapter 4 — Chapter 5 — Chapter 6 — Chapter 7 (7/7)

Masterlist

[tzawa-1y]

QUIRK INFO PT 2

hoshiz has a LOT of weird quirk logic because I overthink and wanted to make a way over-complicated explanation for the silly little ideas I wanted.

there is SO MUCH weird blood logic I'm not really committed to enough to 100% it BUT

he has a lack of white blood cells (sorta) because of his quirk? but actually the stardust sorta acts in that role in his body. s-sorta. It does a manageable job at it though. S SOOORTAAAA..... LOTTA REALLY WEIRD BARELY PSEUDOSCIENCE STUFF.........

Basically this means a lot of weird stuff, especially with other factors. LOTS... OF WEIRD STUFF... read more cut because I'm going to RANT.

Ok the actual major things first

Usually, his body makes and burns/uses/whatever stardust at a very steadily growing rate. While using his quirk, his body is actually making MORE stardust than he uses. Like a lot more. Like... A LO-

His actual blood has stardust in it! acting mostly as white blood cells because his own body just absolutely sucks at making those.

their quirk is very volatile and hard to manage due to being a (genetic) mutation of his parents.

And the effects those have

1)) Stardust usage

HE MAKES A LOOOT OF STARDUST YOU GUYS--

HOWEVER-- stardust is an absolute ton of energy relative to any other body thing. Usually it's completely self sustaining, sorta like in Minecraft if you were to burn charcoal to make more charcoal (like an idiot)

in that sense, very theoretically, he could be a completely renewable and sustainable green energy source. In every other sense WHAT--

But there is kinda the inherent toll it has just constantly going where he's just. sorta low energy a lot. Not like "gonna fall asleep if mister clarkson drones on for 3 more minutes" but just sorta low energy.

and when using their quirk, their making so much that unless he's using an incredible amount, he's not actually losing any stardust.

fortunately the only situation where they'd have too LOW is when he explodes though. (i.e. when they have none at all.)

where he is just completely out of any stardust, and needs to get a Lot of energy to start that process again.

however he can have too much!

when they're using their quirk, his body produces a FUCKTON of stardust. Like, more than he'd ever realistically use.

Basically his quirk is in a sort-of emergency GET MORE STARDUST PLEEASE AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE TO USE RIGHT NOW PLEEEEEASE!!! kinda like a really sensitive car alarm, or like the one smoke alarm my mom never replaced...

Also why his hair gets duller with more use!! normally it's like stored I guess, but when in "emergency mode" (read; literally used his quirk once at all ever slightly) they use stardust in their hair first before anything else and their hair starts dulling with use.

however, the extremely heightened amount of stardust is only temporary!

Both while and for a while after using their quirk, excess stardust will just exist in the air around them for a good while afterwards. (This isn't nearly as bright as normal!! more like sequins, or cat eyes. It's not blinding like when they're using their quirk normally.)

2)) white blood cells are stardust

so yeah,,, guess he's part stardust himself which,,,,

they can also have pretty nasty fluctuations on those counts because of the sheer difficulty to control it and general instability of it.

and yes without the stardust, hoshizawa effectively suffers the leukopenia, and with too much, leukocytosis. Have fun sweetie <3

so basically, after exploding not only does he have to worry about all the side effects while he has no stardust, they also have all those worries and has to be extra careful about infections :)

he would only have less after exploding, which is rare I HOPE.

It causes some of the side effects, but also there's just a lot of exhaustion there in general. Resting somewhere with less things to get sick around is good :')

In terms of having too much, just over time if he's

They act as blood cells, it's definitely not anything like actual blood. Don't know what it IS, but not like actual blood.

Also Stardust is different inside his body versus outside his body, but are both burned when he explodes :')

yeah no they're NOT just yeeting blood everywhere to blind your ass, sorry. Only kind-of barely.

In that, I don't think the stardust would be "included" in strictly blood quirk related things. (it's like prosthetic blood. I Guess.) which could lead to uhh... ISSUES.... I believe...

(talked with ikuto op, nothing there, I'm not sure abt yori op)

But also, the stardust inside his body is actually a physical thing (minuscule, but a physical thing) as opposed to when using his quirk they're really just motes of highly concentrated light. I guess.

3)) Volatility

His quirk is... quite tricky to even just HAVE.

Their body wasn't fully prepared to handle such a big, powerful quirk.

(as in, his mom can make pretty star shaped shurikens and his dad can use a flashlight. He can blind you and everyone in a 10ft radius on accident.)

but this meant he had a really hard time controlling his quirk at first, even just to not use it on accident.

And now in UA, training his quirk, has a lot of learning and management to do so he doesn't blind himself & everyone constantly while actually using it.

because he can accidentally just keep going, using his quirk on MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE in training, and just exhaust himself and fall down the stairs.

he just has a lot of learning to do all around :')

[upcycleability]

A Response to a Commenter: Corperate Capitalism

I generally just try to put out good information on things we can do to help when and if we can (because corporations are not on Tumblr reading my blog), but apparently, this brought criticism of me and my shop, so I am going to address that criticism.

The article this is about is the only one out of 121 articles written so far that has somehow gone viral. You can read it HERE

The person who mentioned this had a few things to say about me, so let's start off with this:

"Corporations are personally responsible for the majority of all industrial waste including textiles. the og post is written in a way to make you feel socially guilty and obligated to do minuscule acts to "help" (just like all the cutesy water conservation tips that blind us to the fact that corporate farms and golf courses use more water in a week than a human uses in a year)."

I 100% agree that the main issues are a result of corperations and governments. I talk a lot about how we need systemic change and how the governments are to blame in my article on overpopulation.

"Living an eco-friendly lifestyle ourselves is a good starting point, but the governments and corporations make the majority of the trash and environmental harm. Do not harm minorities because you have an ignorant misunderstanding of how the world works. Do your part, and force the people who are causing this problem: rich folk, corporations, and governments, to do theirs."

I talk about this all the time, both here on my Tumblr, but also over on Medium. I am not trying to make anyone feel guilty about their life while giving corporations an out. I am calling out corporations, while also providing nifty tips that I have learned about myself to help in what little ways that we can. We need both systemic change and social change.

Hold companies and government accountable, but also live ourselves in a way that we want to see the world. This is how I personally live my own life.

op then punctuates the post with adverts for her shops: where she'll make money off of concepts that are supposed to help mitigate needless consumption. it doesn't take into account that interstate transport has a shitty "eco footprint" too and thus shipping via Etsy or Poshmark is adding in new pollutants.

Yes, at the end of most of my posts with links to my shops where I sell secondhand and salvaged materials. I do this so that if anyone is going to buy something anyways, they can buy it in a more sustainable way.

I only sell within my own country or the one country adjacent, and I only ship using longer shipping times (no 2-day shipping if I can avoid it), and I only use the US Postal Service as they are heading to your home to deliver your mail anyhow, so it is a greener option and easier for me to implement.

I also know that all things shipped has a carbon footprint, which is why I buy carbon credits, and donate 5% of my rather low income to intersectional climate activist group 350 dot org.

And as I often state: Don't buy from me if you don't need anything. I sell used clothing, destash fabrics, salvaged materials for crafts, and upcycled products that I make. If you are going to sew anyways, buying salvaged fabric and the like is far better than buying brand new fabrics that are often made using harmful chemicals and poor labor rights.

it's remarkably clever, the monetization of "wokeness", and OPs post is a fantastic example of it.

I am a trans woman, pansexual, disabled, neurodivergent, and live in poverty. I know very well what "wokeness" is, and I doubt what I am doing is anything close to that.

i'd be amazed if they didn't take any business or advertising classes because the setup of the OG post is nearly textbook... and I do mean textbook, as in "I personally have textbooks that describe using the methodologies OP is using in the OG post to make herself money".

I did not take any business or advertising classes at all. I suck at advertising. I have been writing blogs and the like for myself for over 15 years on a variety of different topics, and that is the only way I know how to promote my business. I write about something I am fascinated in and want to learn more about myself, or else share knowledge with people who don't know what I have learned via research, and then link my upcycle shop if anyone is interested in finding some things they may need without the impact of buying new.

And I love how they make it sound like I am striking it rich. On Etsy, over the last 3 months (after fees), I made about 235$, or about 80$ a month. On Mercari over the same 3 month period, I made 66 dollars, so 22$ a month. On eBay, 90 day total is 242$, or about 80$ a month. Poshmark has my most income, at 377$ since January 1st, or almost 4 months. That is, again, about 80$ a month. So for all of my "monetization of wokeness" I make about... 250 bucks a month. And that is about half to a little more than half of my monthly income. The rest I get through what few freelance writing clients that I get in a month.

I live off 400-500 USD a month in earnings. I get by with this, and I am happy to do what I love, such as dumpster diving, disassembling clothing, and selling or reselling what I make or find. It also allows me to work from home, as someone who is a trans woman, pansexual, disabled, neurodivergent, and in poverty.

I am not trying to trick anyone, I am simply trying to survive in a Capitalist hellscape. If selling salvaged handbags and scarves made from T-shirts is my sin, then burn me at the stake.

I will be writing a new article soon about more eco-friendly craft supplies.

[danger-xylophones]

Family Reunion (Darth Maul x reader) Pt. 3 Madness

{masterlist}

story summary: reader reunites with Maul for the first time in twelve years and...the ex-sith lord gets a strange surprise

Warnings: Tiny bit of existentialism, canon-madness, canon-violence

Notes: Female pronouns, an OC child

Part 1, Part 2, current read, Part 4, Part 5

...............................................................................

You had no clue how long you‘d been following Morley, a while to be sure, but so far he had acted as a very competent guide. As of now, he’d safely guided you around the firebreathers and had helped defend you against the Junkers (there was a Junker taking aim at you that you hadn’t seen, Morley had slapped the blaster away to deflect the shot). However, you still hadn’t found a trace of Maul. 

Now, as you stood amongst the carnage of yours and Savage’s showdown with the junkers, Morley began to laugh. “Wow. Wow-hahahah-wow!” The snake beamed at the two of you, oddly pleased at the fleeing trash-beings. 

Savage simply looked down at Morley before looking at you where you stood slightly crouched next to him. The large zabrak male bumped your arm to prompt you to put your lightsaber away before urging the three of you to continue. You promptly fell in step with him as Morley slithered along behind. “So…” the snake soon drawled as he moved forward, “who are you looking for?” Savage and yourself shared a look, questioning if you should divulge that precious information. Morley seemed to sense your hesitation for he soon annoyingly begged you to tell him. 

With a heavy sigh, Savage relented. “My brother. We’ve been searching for him.” 

“Been missing for over ten years.” You huffed rather pathetically despite yourself. 

Morley, however, seemed intrigued. “Ehhh...does he look like you?” The large snake asked Savage. 

“Have...have you seen him?” Your voice lifted as genuine shock surged through your system. 

“Uh, no, no,” Morley deflated, “I just...heard stories about a horned man. I thought it was just an old local legend.” 

“How old?” Savage stepped in to steal your next question.

“Old.” Morley’s forked tongue quickly darted out of his mouth as he looked around the area, almost as though he was fearful of being overheard. “They say he drags things down, beneath, and they never come back up.” The air seemed to grow thick with the newly revealed information. Excluding the part about the horned man, that didn’t really sound like Maul. But...Savage did say that he might not be the same man you had once known. Perhaps it was him and he had changed-forced to in order to survive. “Oh, but it’s only a legend like I said.” Morley broke the silence and dismissively flicked his tail. As if to amplify the already bizarre mood, thunder crashed not far away from where you and Savage were standing, rooted to your spots as both of your minds reeled with wondering. Eager to move on, you began to walk once more in the direction Morley had been guiding you. Savage soon caught up, indicated by his heavy footfalls. 

You flinched as something stinging landed on your cheek. With one hand coming up to cup the area of irritation, you were met with more and more stings in the form of droplets as it had begun to rain. But what kind of rain stung? “Acid rain.” Morley tutted, winding around a piece of scrap. “It’ll melt us down if we don’t find shelter soon.” He further warned as Savage raised his left arm for examination. The armor was sizzling in protest as you found some suspended scrap metal to stand under. 

Savage looked around as you focused on rubbing the stinging sensation out of the back of your hands. Searing, prolonged pain you could deal with but this minuscule irritation that built up over time was so not your cup of tea. Savage seemed to spot something as he loudly exclaimed ‘over there!’ and bounded off in the direction of what looked like a large broken pipe with wood partially covering the mouth of it. Wary of your companion running head-long into a trap or someone else’s home, you sprinted after the speedy zabrak. 

The tunnel itself was a welcomed sanctuary from the acidic liquid dumping from the sky and you welcomed it with eager arms upon realizing that it was decidedly abandoned. Or at least, it would have been decidedly abandoned if not for the dead Junker hanging from the ceiling. Morley released a soft exclamation of surprise that you elected to ignore as Savage moved further in. Junk was piled up on all sides of the pipe and you unceremoniously tripped over a rogue sheet of metal as you shuffled in to check for signs of life. It was unneeded though as a soft blue glow caught your eye. “Savage, the talisman.” You mumbled, mouth suddenly feeling dry. The golden zabrak looked down at his chest and you could see his shoulders lift in relief that it had started working again. Like a silent game of hot and cold, Savage stalked around the pipe with you watching to see where the talisman glowed the strongest. He eventually stopped right in front of you whereupon the magic jewelry piece was glowing brighter than you had ever seen it before.

“This is it.” Savage confirmed and softly moved you to the side so he could investigate the pile of metal behind you. You quickly began looking for a hidden door that would hopefully lead you to what you hoped was Maul’s hideaway. What you thought to be a pile of metal turned out to be another dead Junker that fell over when Savage touched it, making you halt your own search. 

“It-It doesn’t look like anyone’s here, you two.” Morley offered unhelpfully to which Savage snapped at him and continued to search, growing more agitated by the second. You couldn’t be mad at him as you could feel desperation starting to rise within you. With a low breath, you stepped back into the center of the room and closed your eyes. You were trying to sense for either any life or a hidden door, whichever stood out first. You heard the clattering of another Junker being tossed to the side in front of you by Savage and felt your companion’s mind start to spiral as he backed up next to you. 

“Mother Talzin…” Savage muttered under his breath, prompting you to open your eyes as your focus wasn’t holding. “She betrayed me…” Savage’s voice grew more steadily into a growl. “My brother must be dead!” Savage smacked the body of a dead Junker away as you watched on, the familiar dull sting of onsetting apathy creeping into your bones. Your companion yelled in frustration, hands clutching at his horns as he tried to steady himself. You hated to be right. “Y/n, I-I’m so sorry.” Savage sobbed softly as he turned to you. 

You sighed low, face carefully constructed to restrain the heartache. What had you expected? Face purposefully neutral, you opened your mouth to console Savage who was most likely devastated only for Morley to cut in. 

“Y’know,” he dragged out, voice inappropriately peppy, “She’s not the only one who betrayed you.” Your eyes widened as the snake raised his tail and smacked it on the ground in front of you. Suddenly, the floor gave way, and you and Savage were sent plummeting down into the inky blackness below. “You two will make good offerings, and when my master’s finished with you-I get the leftovers!” Morley’s high pitched laugh echoed down the hole along with yours and Savage’s frightened screams. You didn’t know how long you’d been falling or how swiftly the ground was approaching but you did know that it was too far for you to force jump out and that the end of this road would most likely result in a few broken bones. Or at least, it would have had Savage not graciously acted as your landing pad. 

You landed with a huff and a sore stomach from where your front collided with Savage’s back. But, aside from what would definitely form into a bruise later, you were fine. Pissed, but fine. 

The place you had landed in was dark and you could scarcely make out the back of Savage’s head as you slid off of him amidst apologies. But it wasn’t so dark that you couldn’t see a form skirting a corner up ahead, making you freeze. “If we ever see that traitor again,” Savage grunted as he rose to his feet, completely unaware of what you had seen, “I’m going to kill him.” 

“Savage,” you grabbed your brother-in-law’s wrist without tearing your eyes away from the spot where the form had disappeared, “We aren’t alone down here.” As if to punctuate your statement, the sound of a creature skittering across the trash floor echoed around the two of you. Immediately, you put your back to Savage’s and pulled out your lightsaber, ready to defend yourself. Savage also brought out his lightsaber but did not ignite it. While the two of you waited with bated breath and the chittering grew louder and louder, you found yourself growing more enraged. Whatever was down here was going to die-you had a son to get back to. 

Something toppled over in one of the numerous tunnels resulting in an obnoxiously loud ‘clang’ that caught you both off guard. Savage, ever hopeful you guessed, decided it would be a grand idea to talk to whatever was down here. “Brother? Is that you, brother?” The zabrak’s voice reverberated unnaturally as it bounced from wall to wall down the dim tunnels. When there was no response and no other noise from the creature, Savage straightened his posture and activated his lightsaber. The zabrak bumped his hand against your arm to prompt you to look at him to which Savage nodded in the opposite direction the creature had run off to and began walking. You were forced to follow or be left in the tunnels. 

The walk was tense, silent, neither one of you wanted to speak for fear you would miss a noise that could prove vital to your survival. You both were also careful not to make any noise yourself, the only sounds being Savage’s heavy footsteps which masked your own and the soft hum emanating from your weapons. Every so often, you would swear that you could hear the creature but as soon as you would turn around or look above you, there would be nothing. Was the creature real, then? Or was that the morbid beauty of Morley’s master; he served no person just the excruciating onset of madness. You were happy you had someone else with you though. 

Cutting through the tense atmosphere like a stray blaster bolt across a peaceful field, the sound of metal scraping against metal immediately put you on edge once again. Savage called out once more, “Is that you, brother?” There was no response. The two of you rounded a corner and when you peered into the tunnel before you, you could see the outline of the creature. A human torso, a spider body, and what looked like antlers growing from its skull. 

When the creature noticed you and Savage, it growled in an almost human-like voice and backed away, as if desperate to avoid the light shining from your sabers. You paused, prompting Savage to do the same as the creature continued to back up-still growling and grunting like an angry, feral tooka. Fearing that it was getting ready to charge, you attempted to soothe it. You lowered your saber and spoke in a soft voice. “Hey, it’s alright, we’re not here to hurt you.” It felt like you were trying to calm a feral loth-wolf as the only response was another, even lower growl. Savage stepped in front of you, one arm out to shepherd you behind him as the creature grew increasingly more agitated. The second Savage did so, though, it bolted-racing away. Savage, like the moron that he could be decided to run after it which meant that you were soon racing after Savage too. 

You weren’t sure what his plan was (if there even was one) but you did know that you were going to keep him alive no matter what. Strange how spending two months traipsing across the galaxy with someone could change your opinion of them. 

The creature continued to flee, hissing, growling, and spitting with its strange ever-present chittering in tow and you continued to follow it. Occasionally, it would rear up, bringing its human arms up over its head as it backed away and the light from your sabers would almost reveal the features of the creature but before action could be taken, the strange abomination would back away. “You!” Savage had begun yelling at it by now as he gave chase. “What have you done with my brother?” You weren’t sure why he was so adamant that Maul was still to be found in these tunnels because every time you glanced at the talisman it would appear to be glowing but you couldn’t tell if it was from your saber or not. “You!” Savage tried again as the creature tried to back away into a tunnel leading downwards. “What have you done with my brother? Answer me, you monster!” That seemed to finally light the fuse in the creature’s temper. With a bone-chilling snarl, it charged right for Savage. One of its many legs kicked you away, sending you backward and against a wall of trash as your lightsaber sailed out of your hand. You lifted yourself off the floor and summoned your weapon back to you just in time to watch Savage get pushed into a different tunnel by the creature. Thinking fast, you took off after it with saber ignited, following the guttural cries of the tunnel dweller and the unmistakeable commotion of a fight. You rounded the corner in time to see Savage and the creature locked hand to hand, both trying to overpower each other. Still approaching, you raised your hand and focused on pulling the creature off and away from your companion. 

The strange mixture of spider and man twisted around to face you, teeth bared, fists clenched, and chest heaving with exertion and anger. You raised your saber, ready to draw the creature closer and run it trough but that was when you saw it-the creature’s eyes. “Maul?” Your voice broke as your brain registered not what but who was in front of you. Your grip went lax and your saber clattered at your feet leaving Savage’s talisman as the only light source. Even then, there was no denying whose silhouette it was. For a minute, you were still, your grip on Maul through the Force also waning as you both just stared at each other-you with elation yet simultaneous devastation at what your lover had become and him with the wildness of a rabid animal. The spell was broken though when your grip on him finally loosened completely. As though he had suddenly recognized you, Maul’s eyes locked with yours and his snarl fell away into what you almost thought was a grin but that did not last. Maul’s new spider legs moved far quicker than you could have fathomed and he was on you in seconds, nails digging into your bicep as he latched onto your arm. With a prolonged cry, Maul ran off, dragging you along with him.

......................................................................................

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[ashestoashesjc]

A Necromancer & His Zombie Boyfriend Take A Hike

Short Story 1/2/3/(4)/5/6/7/8/9/10

Relax. Relax. Inhale, exhale; you know the routine. This isn’t the first time you and Sett have been alone with unsuspecting humans. Just the first time where the goal has been for everyone to leave as alive as when they arrived. Simple.

Jen had texted the directions to The Goovenmeyer Hiking Trail, a public entrance to Goovenmeyer Forest, days before the planned excursion was to take place, and so Ulrick had just as much time with which to let his irrational worries ferment. 

In the logical portion of his elixir and glyph-addled mind, Ulrick knew there was nothing to worry about. That forming normal, healthy friendships was good for Sett. Good for both of them. But a nagging splinter dug at a place he couldn’t reach. 

He tried to disguise his busy hive of thoughts, but Sett, of course, caught on to the minuscule valley made from his dipping eyebrows, the tightness of a face steeped in sullen contemplation.

"You seem stressed,” Sett signed, retrieving a sealed, plastic package from his bomber jacket. “Beef jerky?"

"Where'd you get beef jerky?" asked Ulrick. He took a short pause. "And you don't eat?" 

"Yeah, I know," Sett signed. "It's more for the atmosphere." 

Sett stabbed one of the leathery sticks at his masked mouth, but seeing it fail to improve Ulrick’s mood, returned it to its pouch and put an arm around his shoulder. 

“Really, what’s up?” signed Sett with his available hand. 

“It’s stupid.”

“It never is.” 

Ulrick let out a rolling sigh. He stood from their seat at the bench and paced about the entrance of the hiking trail. “Supermarkets in the dead of night, deserted movie theaters, dates on moonlit rooftops. I did those things to protect us, yes, but it was also because…” He looked to Ulrick. “I like when it’s just the two of us. I’m selfish that way.” 

The mask covered Sett’s face, but Ulrick could imagine the goofy, tilted grin underneath from the light shining in his eyes. It urged half a smile out of him before his paranoia could steal back its throne. 

“That’s changing now, and that’s fine, and I’m happy for you. But a small part of me can’t help but wonder…” 

“Wonder...?” “What would they do if they knew?” 

“Knew what?” came a familiar voice from behind them, where a small parking area accommodated an RV, the boys’ rusted red jalopy, and a newly arrived blue sedan. 

It was Jen, followed closely by a backpack-lugging Diane, looking equally curious. 

"That..." started Ulrick, feeling the vacuum of space closing in around him, sucking the air from his lungs. 

"That we've never been hiking before,” Sett cut in with lightspeed fingerwork. “Didn't want you to look down on us rookies." 

Ulrick could not have managed to look at Sett with more gratitude. "Cat's out of the bag, I guess." 

"Ha! Don't you pink bellies worry about that. Everyone's a first timer once,” chortled Diane. 

“Yeah, except you, Di. You were born an outdoorswoman.” 

Exaggerating a shocked expression, Diane said, “That ain’t true! I was born a Led Zeppelin fan, and everything else has been window dressing.” 

Then Jen snorted, not dissimilarly to the way Diane had when the four had met. Ulrick wondered who’d picked it up from whom. 

“Well!” Jen said, clapping her hands together. “Di might have a compass for a brain, but I have something just as good.” She reached into a pocket of her explorer shorts and brought out a smartphone, plastered in psychedelic peace-symbol stickers. “A compass on my cell phone.”

“And I’ve read about a few sights off the beaten path that we’ve just got to check out,” she said. “Y’know, time permitting.” 

“Oh yeah, wandering blindly into the unfamiliar wilderness. That’s never gotten anyone brutally murdered,” scoffed Ulrick.

Jen suddenly placed her hands on Ulrick’s shoulders and looked him dead in the eyes, her voice silvery and therapeutic. “I see you, I hear you, I feel you,” she said, each emphasized syllable accompanied by a gentle shoulder clap. 

A stammered “Uh…” was the only response Ulrick could muster. 

Turning back to the trail ahead, she began marching. “And we’re off!” 

Irregular stone slabs acted as their guide into the forested incline, but it wasn’t long before they and the beaten path were old acquaintances. Really, it seemed like they’d forgone any path at all, intended or otherwise, as they squeezed past vine-twisted tree trunks, maneuvered around prickly poisonous bushes, crossed rushing, turbulent streams. 

From the clearing at which they found themselves, the whispers of fast moving water could be made out. Jogging up to her position at the head of the group, Sett tapped Diane on the shoulder. “I’ll race you to the next stream,” he signed. Diane agreed with a haughty laugh as the two took off in a sprint. For having only a fraction of the functioning tendons, Sett kept up remarkably well but Diane’s calves were pistons. Jen and Ulrick shared in the rolling of eyes, and after they and Sett had all caught up to the race winner, their spirits were high. On their way over the stream in question, however - wide and deep, nearly a river - Ulrick’s foot missed its landing on the collapsed tree the group had fashioned into a bridge. 

Before he had time to fully assess the situation or Sett’s hand had time to make contact with his, his mouth was flooded with water, and, as the remaining trio stood, frozen in shock, he was shooting rapidly down the violent torrent toward a sound of rushing water so massive, it took not a woodswoman to know what awaited him. 

But it was their woodswoman, Diane, who ripped herself from her jacket, and dove into the frigid gnashing. Her legs beat with a polished verve that contrasted Ulrick’s desperate flails more strongly with every inch of the gap she closed. Then she’d passed him. Her legs kept pumping. 

Only flashes of vision stolen between each blinding crash of the waves revealed to Diane the rock jutting up at her left. She paddled toward it as best she could, knowing she’d made it only when her hand was secured around firm granite. 

She gasped for air, bobbed above and below water level, but managed to swing around with fingers outstretched nearly as far as they would go. 

Wait. Wait. Wait. Now!

She grasped just the slightest bit further, used her legs to propel herself forward. For a microsecond, she was sure she’d waited too long, and then, almost in answer, felt her hand clasp around something bony and warm. “I got you!” she shouted over the scream of the rapids. 

Diane, grip on the mossy boulder growing ever more tentative, soon found a hand around her own wrist as she and Ulrick were dragged, dripping and shivering, onto the gravelly shore. 

The two gave haggard, drained, heaving breaths as Sett ensured they were entirely out of harm’s way, and Jen, sobbing, wrapped her arms around Diane’s neck. 

“This better have been worth it,” Ulrick said when he was dry and warm enough to say anything at all. But when, at the supposed end of their expedition, Jen pulled aside a curtain of vines, what unfolded before them convinced Ulrick it just might have been. 

Ahead, a narrow cavern, lined virtually floor-to-stalactite-riddled-ceiling with glowing, blueish-green mushrooms, tinted each of the four’s awe-stricken faces the very same alien hue. The spotted fungi curved up proudly from their places inset in the stony walls, as if to say, This is our home, and you are right to be astounded. And they were. 

Their jaws were still slack as they made their way out of the small, magical cave, crossed the fallen tree over angry waves, avoided the alluring embrace of stinging nettle. It was by the third time they’d encountered the same twisty, knotted elm, however, that their wonderment had begun to give way to weary impatience. 

"We're not lost. I know exactly where we are," Jen said, yanking free her phone from her pocket. She glanced at the screen for a brief moment and then announced, "We're lost. I have no idea where we are." 

She turned the blank screen to the other three, audibly clicking the 'power' button. "My phone must have died."  

“Don’t fret; there’s no guarantee it’ll stay that way,” signed Sett.

“Your optimism is so refreshing!” Jen said with a happy sigh.

A ragged groan escaped Diane. "Why didn't you charge it last night?"

"Why didn't you remind me to charge it? You know I always forget. And you knew we were going on a hike, too. So irresponsible," Jen said, shaking her head. 

"You!" laugh-shouted Diane before she took off to chase a now-squealing Jen through the isolated wooded area in which they found themselves until they’d run out of sight. 

Ulrick rolled his eyes, "God, is that what we look like?" 

Walking over and sitting next to Ulrick on a log, Sett lowered his mask, gnawed a piece of beef jerky, gave a series of loud smacks, and his head a shake. "Gffrrra rmmrrr. <Heck nah. We're way cuter,>" he spat, shooting out dried, fibrous bits. 

Ulrick’s eyes squinted instinctively to avoid the meat spray. I love this man, he thought dreamily.

"Grgrrrgrr. <Wow, this really tastes better raw,>" he grunted, hocking grisly chunks onto the ground. He handed Ulrick the bag of dehydrated cow bits. "Grgrrr rgrrrRRr. <Here. Can't even look at them.>"

"But you know..." said Ulrick, depositing the package into a coat pocket. "Apart from almost going over a waterfall, ending up hopelessly lost, and getting poison ivy in places I’d rather not mention, this honestly hasn't been the worst." 

"GrrrRr? <Great, even?>"

"Let's not get carried away."

Then, a scream. And not of the marital variety. A murder of crows poured out over the treetops. 

Ulrick and Sett looked to each other, and then, at once, took off after the sound. 

What they discovered upon following the shriek was a somewhat cozy recess, marred only by an edge of burnt, toppled trees, the result of a recent firestorm, and by an eight-foot behemoth of teeth and rage that now cornered a comparatively small Diane and Jen, the latter shaking in the protective arms of the former. 

The bear hadn’t noticed their arrival and Sett, without making a sound, used the advantage to pick up a sizeable rock and sneak behind the foam-mouthed beast. He lobbed the stone directly at its head.

“What are you doing!” Ulrick whispered tightly. 

Sett began signing, “While it’s distracted, get them--” but couldn’t complete the thought as a freight train concentrated in the size of a burly paw forced the words from his fingers and sent his body flying like a limp doll into the shattered, splintery remains of ruined trees.

The broken spikes tore through his chest; the bow of a vessel emerging through fog. 

Like a marionette, strings severed, Jen instantly collapsed. 

"Se--!" Ulrick very nearly screamed, before Di's hand clapped over his mouth. 

"Bad time to scream," she whispered, eyes hovering between the bear and Jen’s supine, unconscious form. 

Drool dripped in strings from the bear's growling, vibrating maw as it decided who it would first maul, and Ulrick's eyes zipped erratically from rock to branch for anything to offer aid or solace. But the only thing his eyes fell to were the bits of chewed jerky Sett had earlier discarded. 

By the time the thought had wormed its way into his consciousness, he was already hands-deep in a jacket pocket. When the hand reappeared, it gripped Sett's parcel of 100% American USDA-approved beef jerky. Almost immediately, the bear was rapt.

“Go...” Ulrick said, collecting his indomitable fear and anger into a single swing, “...get it!” 

And then the package was sailing overhead, deeper into the forest, a ton of muscle and fur and claw galumphing off single-mindedly after it.

The moment the bear had trudged out of sight, Ulrick and Diane were on the rush to Sett’s impaled, lifeless body. The jagged, wooden knives protruding through his chest were painted at their ends by a dark liquid that might have been dried blood, but for its smell. 

“I don’t know if we should…” started Diane, but Ulrick was already beneath one of Sett’s arms, knees bent to allow himself leverage and traction. He shoved and heaved and grunted but barely did the large mass of man budge.

Sweat gathered in rivulets at Ulrick’s forehead as his strain and frustration and sorrow mounted. Each push of his feet left a deeper rut in the ground where there’d once been grass.

“Well?” he cried to Diane, still struggling, wet eyes reflecting the falling light. 

Sighing at the futility of it all, she nonetheless took her place under the other of Sett’s armpits. And the two, though it seemed to take a small, tense forever of bone-fatiguing, swear-filled thrusts, hoisted free Sett’s immobile cadaver from the gnarled, blackened teeth of Mother Nature. 

They’d laid him down on the ground, Ulrick himself sprawled out and breathing heavily, not accustomed to the extent of physical exertion, when Diane decided, without Ulrick’s notice, that Sett’s damaged clothes had to be removed, his wounds cleaned and dressed, if he stood any slim chance of recovery. 

Ulrick looked up, but too late, and the expression stapled to Diane’s face as he saw himself through her eyes was one he knew he’d never forget. 

"Look,” Ulrick said, standing but making sure not to venture any closer. “Let's get out of the forest alive and... I'll tell you everything, okay?"

Diane hadn’t peered up at him once since they’d dislodged Sett’s body from the tree, and she didn’t start now. 

"Okay," she said at length.

Polaris guiding her path, alongside the occasional stop to confirm by way of western-pointing spiderwebs her directional accuracy, Diane led the wiped, half-unconscious quartet of hikers back, after an arduous trek through an unkind night, back to their fabled starting point, her carrying Jen bridal-style, Sett slung over her and Ulrick’s shoulders. Woodswoman, indeed. 

"I'd hoped I would come up with a good excuse on the way here, or that we'd just die first, which would have admittedly been easier,” said Ulrick as they approached the entrance, feeling Diane’s eyes wearing down on him. 

"And?” she said. 

"And I didn't come up with a good excuse. There isn't one. You should know the truth. Sett's..."

A grumbling between them alerted them to Sett’s slow reentrance into the world of the conscious, though not of the living. Ulrick clasped Sett's face in his hands, the two falling to their knees. Sett smiled, the black muck smudged about his features like a Rorschach. 

"I missed you, too," Sett signed groggily, bringing tears to the corners of Ulrick's eyes.

"Let's sit him down," Ulrick suggested, wiping water away, a streak of the muck lingering on his cheek.

As they began to lift him away, Sett craned his neck up to Diane and gave a weakly signed, “Thank you.”

On the wooden bench sitting outside the trail’s entry point, Jen and Sett were positioned next to each other, asleep, head resting on head; and farther back, inside the trail itself, where the trees loomed tall and close, where they couldn’t be overheard, stood Ulrick and Diane, the wordlessness tangible. 

Crickets chirped listlessly in the background. Fireflies drew unplanned paths through humid night air. The absence of sound, of chatter, of life, meant to swallow them completely, make the unsaid forever unsayable. 

When Diane, after a silent eternity, uttered, looking at no one, “I know what he is.” 

Nothing moved. 

“I heard about him staying underwater for goddamn near an hour back at the resort. I thought... maybe he's just good at holding his breath." Diane gave a short, mirthless laugh, seemingly at herself. "Then, today."

She paused, and after what felt like a long while, finally said, "That tree should've killed him, and we both know it. And that blood. That…” She stopped.

“Whatever it was, it wasn't blood...”

Pointedly looking to Ulrick, who couldn’t bring himself to look back, she said, “You wondered what would happen if we knew. Well, now I know. I know what he is." 

Ulrick said nothing. There was nothing to say, and his silence was all the confirmation she needed. 

"What I want to know is,” she said, tone betraying no particular emotion, “how you did it."

"What?” Ulrick said, looked up in confusion as if he’d heard the words wrong. “How I..."

"How you brought him back. I want to know how."

"It's... it's an ancient art. You don't just do it. You need years of training."

The response took a second of thought, and then, as if it’d been obvious, Diane said, "Then you do it. Bring someone back for me." 

"That's... not a good idea,” Ulrick said.

She blew air from her nose. "Oh, but bringing Sett back. That was a good idea?"

"That was different,” Ulrick retorted too quickly. 

"How?” She was then looking him gravely in the eyes. “How was it different?"

His gaze darted to the busy forest floor. "It... just was." 

"Huh,” said Diane, a sound and a sentiment. As if the conversation had ended there, she turned and straightened her leather jacket. 

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing. Sorry I asked. Don't worry about it." At that, Diane began to make her departure toward the entrance and the parking lot, where only the red and blue cars remained. 

"You…” said Ulrick to her back, unable to will himself to move. “You won't tell anyone about us, will you?"

Diane paused, pretended not to hear him and then continued to exit when, just before she left the small copse of trees forever to return to Jen, unawares, dozing peacefully on the bench, to her life, to her own devices, Ulrick called out.

"Wait," he nearly whispered, and Diane stopped in her tracks, not turning around. His fists balled at his side. "Okay... fine. I'll do it."

"I'll resurrect someone for you."

[kaetastic]

HISTORY UNFOLDS. 1/3

pairing: Finn Shelby x Reader, Luca Changretta x Reader, Deceased!John Shelby x Reader

summary: A favour that is pending to be fulfilled calls Y/N to Birmingham, from a very old friend. However, the youngest Shelby soon discovers her past with his deceased brother, John, and the one who had ordered the murdering, Luca Changretta.

word count: 14.6k (i did that)

warning: all sorts of angst, mentions of death, war, mentions of violence, mentions of firearm, mentions of blood, smut, profanities, age gap (read note) 

note: okay, so- i was kind of pissed that we barely have finn content. anyways, i wanted to clear a few things about this writing. it is set place in season 4, john died and luca changretta has arrived for his vendetta. finn is 18, the reader is 37. the reader’s last name is stein :D hope you don’t mind, enjoy and have a good day!

Part 2 | Part 3

Muffled thuds stomped against the ground. The heavy gait they trudged through the still air that had been spurted with blood was that of a crackling of thunder, ready to split the land into two. Weaving against one another like ruffled locks of hair, the piercing grass blades obeyed with every force that pressed onto them; the bed of green and yellow compressed into a hefty brick. Just like millions of menacing syringes pointing into the clear sky as if defending soldiers of the ground creatures walk upon, the patchy grass was ready to embed their toxins into bloodstreams. Despite the steel gun’s stomach filled with clanking bullets; men drowned in blood and bodies resting upon the ground as if it was up for display, the sky played with the merry rays of light. 

A staggering sigh fell off her lips as her thumb caressed the chilling metal of the syringe that cried for help in her suffocating grip. Pressing into her head was the bulging intricate lines of the artwork on the tree, the leaves danced with every kiss of the wind. Almost as if it was calling the men that brushed their fingers over the trigger, painting the walls of the camp with dying blood. Blood of those wounded; blood of those who’ve saved countless lives of bleeding soldiers. Fear was the bandage that sloppily wrapped around her chipping heart. War was more than terrifying. It had been for the soldiers prancing around the land of blood. It had been for the wives and children back at home. It had been for their dogs who would stare at the door, waiting. Especially when sizzling barrels that were loaded with merciless ammunition were hunting for the sole survivor who had managed to flee away from their execution. She was outnumbered, guns to a single, used syringe. 

Pressing her lips as tight as she had locked the door of her house that must’ve been drowning in layers of dust before she had hurled herself into the waging war, the battle that raged inside her sliced and butchered every thought of her making a minuscule noise. Even a slight push of both of the breathing organ could lead a body to stand as shooting practice. Y/N glanced down to the stainless steel syringe, neck-craning like an ancient spine of a parasol. Streaks of red stroke her arms as if her body was a the counter where the butcher’s knife met with the poor animal, the foul smell encroached her potency to breathe even though it was something she had already gotten used to. Well, she was forced to. However, she could not digest the fact that the liquid used to run through someone’s body, aiding them to breathe and live. The staining blood shook its leg, waiting to decompose on her freshly scrubbed apron.

If it wasn’t enough of the stark red glazing on her body, beads of the warm liquid coated her tongue as her teeth stabbed into it as if she was scooping up a plot of dirt to nurse another plant. Just like that back at home. Despite her menacing situation, she hoped deep down that the neighbours she placed her trust on, had taken care of her plants. Dread engulfed her body. A tremble waved through her quivering, overcooked noodle knees when the sound she despaired, trickled into her ears. Murmurings slithered behind her unstable feet like a starving serpent, brushing against her skin frequently with its uncomfortably slick scales, spiralling up her leg as it flickered its tongue, tasting the air for nourishment. Fear.

A string of rough mumbled words from a language she could not point out, poured into the silent air. Not long after, grumbles followed the statement before shuffling of feet rubbed against the compacted grass that once used to be a gorgeous, wide field. Now, it was no different than the streets of a run-down city, pressed as tough as the stone bricks that made up most of the homes. It holds the burden of carrying the names of murderers- killings in the name of their country.   

Seconds ticked as hours. The sand trickled down the sleek glass as if crumpled soil had poured out of a cracked pot, one by one. It was agonizing to watch the substance from one side of the tent dive down to plaster down the walls; painting it as if a circus. The faint blotches of clouds that painted the fresh sky seemed to take its time to allocate to another area. Even though it felt as if her heart had been tugged out of her chest cavity to sing a song extremely close to her ears, Y/N tried her best to compromise her chest heaving; forcing her lungs to reuse the same air once again. On the other hand, the only question that remained in her head, blaring persistently was, for how long?

Before she knew it, a whirling of metal echoed through the still, open field. With modicum movements, her head reluctantly turned to face the man who dangled her life over the thin thread-like a puppet. Her throat became parched. Every bubble of moisture that was once the reason she could talk, evaporated from her mouth as death sat in the waiting room, reading the latest paper while he waited for her with great patience. Just like he was with everyone else.

“Found ya.” In broken English, an aged man with a revolver in his grasp snickered. Like a vicious serpent, his tongue flickered to slap his lips as if he was a child, sloppily shoving food down his throat. The scars that trekked down his face reminded her of the newly purchased china dinnerware she had placed on the top of the highest shelf for display, which unfortunately had all met their sorrowful ends; till this day, she pondered how the day would’ve gone if she hadn’t had nimble fingers. All she could see behind his eyes were suppressed anger; an unnecessary need of vengeance. The uniform he wore similar to that of a burlap sack, a boring beige. Despite the prominent lines of age that created a path on his face, the grip he held onto the firearm did not waver- the mouth of the revolver yawned between her eyes.

Birds chirped in the air like an orchestra, their singing was innocent- a gentle melody and a tune that was in sync so perfectly even though their volume stood on the same height. It rained over the bloody land, almost as if it was meant to cleanse the mess humans have created. While the half elevating bunk of the planet cheered with another passing day of joy, the latter was dancing in a bath of terror. This was it, this was the end of her line. If she had only listened to the incessant amount of warnings by several different people and the endless nagging from her friend who she looked back now, spoke only of truth, she wouldn’t be at gunpoint by a man who seemed to be thrice her age. Not to forget his face that looked as if it had a ride under a meat butchering blade. Just as she was, stubborn and blinded by the need to be right, Y/N had decided to oppose. What did she achieve? Nothing, but she was confident that her pride was tucked safely.

Fisting her hand into a ball with immense pressure that pierced her fingernails into her palm like a bed of nails, blood oozed out, seeping onto the dirt as nourishment; the glass chamber of the syringe let out a woozy crack. The only supply the abused land will ever get during the heinous battle would either be from astringent sweat plunging from the soldiers, the haunting lake of blood or the fitful rainfall.

With her eyes squinted shut and toes curled, the prayers she chanted in her head tugged the circular rope around her neck tighter, decreasing the diameter of the hole. Plucks of fibre dug into her skin, the voice in her head amplified- her call for someone. Religion was something the volunteered nurse did not insert in her life as much as some targeted individuals, for she found it irrelevant and obstructive to things such as routine and the words one would utter. However, she stood in front of the enemy, knees trembling with fear, calling out for a God she didn’t believe in seconds ago.

It seemed the trickling of sand had halted, the glass had scattered across the red floor, embedding itself into the decrepit wall. The elongated time that was predicted by a gypsy woman was a lie. The words she had believed once it had fallen from the woman’s lips. She was nothing but a hoax. Y/N acted oblivious to the idea that she would see death prematurely might’ve been because she had scribbled her name on that card- calling upon her death wish with limited time.

During the nauseating ride over the bumpy ground towards the slashing air, Y/N held no doubt that what she would soon see would be an image she would not be able to wipe off her head. However, she had doubted the countless possibilities that could have dropped upon her. Never did she see an ancient man that might as well be her grandfather, aim his revolver towards her.

It was only humane of her to wish that she would walk out of the vile battle in one piece. Everyone did so. But, it seemed that the gardener had tended to pluck out the most ravishing flower that would bring a bag’s worth of money.

There. An agonizing slow-paced train sauntered past her. Even though Y/N was stationed far away from the fields before, she was recently moved to another tent where she was slightly closer towards the bloodbath. And the bangs and slicing of the air with an agile speed from firearms were still new sounds she was getting familiar to since previously, the most she had heard was that of an accidental gunshot. Followed by a spine-chilling bang, was a piercing crack. It had not waited for a second to fall into the uniform pace of the noise. Like a collision of fist towards a drenched plot of soil, the sound rang through her ears. Then, the noise of an agile collapsing hefty object was absorbed by the starving land. Her eyes shot wide open. Immediately, she checked her body for a pool of blood to make sure that even if there was no pain, her body would’ve surely rotted by blood loss. But no, it was not her that had a bullet had flown through.

A thud was muffled by the layers of blood covered by yellowed–stained grass. The sword-like object sunk into the ground as an indent that was to be created by the soldier. Once her eyes had landed onto the corpse that would scar a hole on his head until his body would be part of the land he used to breathe upon, tracks of emotions overflowed through her. Speckles of worn off skin circled the gushing orifice, the crimson blood bursts out to paint the ground. Finally adding colour to his sorrowful uniform. The stream of blood that trickled down his nose reminded her of the water pipe at her house that needed fixing.

Snapping her head to face the hero who had tugged the barrier away from the early end of her life, saving her, a twinkle of relief gushed over her. With a pistol in his hand that was down one bullet, he let out a staggering breathe of air. The smearing of dirt across his cheeks had made it seem as if he had rolled his head over a land of flaky dirt with a splash of water.

“Tommy.” The man was pulled away from the trance at what he had just done.

Letting out a slight smile, he lent out his arm for her to grab, “Come on, get up, the others are still here. Just don’t forget to pay that favour, Stein.” Y/N nodded before grasping his arm. How could she ever forget the man who had been the reason she still had a future?

Obnoxiously boisterous rings from the telephone bounced off the walls of the spacious, palatial hotel room. The vibration of the wooden table under the machine sounded like incessant drumming of crying droplets from the clouds against a pane of glass. Blaring from the vent was frigid wind, kissing the exhausted pair who rested under the thick covers that were meant to shield them from the cold. It seemed it had not done its job.

Warmth radiated from the body that rested an inch away from her, a broad back that had been splayed with taut muscles, occupied the other whole half of the bed. The scent of sandalwood lingered on her sheets. The gentle caress of the cotton blanket was getting warmer. Her leg shifted to find a chillier spot under the blanket, accidentally brushing a pair of legs. An exhausted sigh brushed over her lips when the phone would not rest, continuing to dance on the table.

Since it was a bright and clear morning, Y/N had to cover her bare body, because the window that expanded the whole wall offered a jaw-dropping view of the city. The surrounding buildings might’ve not defeated the towering height of the hotel she stayed in; however, it is never a bad idea to stay safe. Before dashing across the wide window, she had tugged the diaphanous silk robe that was thrown haphazardly over the lampshade above the side table. As if the ringing had been a test for her morning patience, she stomped towards the machine with a huff- trying her best to prevent herself from making too much sound as she liked the sleeping guest to proceed with his needed, peaceful slumber. The frozen air had coated the wooden floor during the night, with every step she took, it kissed her feet like bites from a kitten. It sent shivers up her spine since the only thing that covered her body was a thin layer of silk.

Snatching the phone, she mumbled underneath her breath, not allowing the frigid air to get to her, “Paris, 146.”

The sudden desperate need for a gulp of water coated her tongue, the crying from her head caused the woman to softly tug on the wire connection so she could reach the pitcher. While she poured herself plain, old boring water, she waited for the other side of the line. A stream of water trekked down her throat; she thought it was a wrong call.

“Is this Y/N Stein?” The voice was so familiar, hoarse and raspy. She could smell the cigarette.

“Who’s asking?” Whispering under her breath, Y/N’s feet brushed against one another as all she wanted to do was jump back into the warmth of the bed. Y/N shot a glance at the body that laid peacefully in the blanket while took a sip of the refreshing water. The late-night activity had left her parched.

“Thomas Shelby.”

“Tommy?”

A hum vibrated into her ears, “Remember that favour back then?” Y/N hummed, fingers caressing the wire, twirling it and curling it into loops as she replayed the memory. “I heard that you were in France.”

“Still am, though, words spread quickly.” A chuckle was emitted from the other side of the line.

“Come to Birmingham,” This was it, the only time Thomas Shelby had made contact with her, despite him being her life saviour. Even though it had been eight years since they had last seen each other, there was never an attempt from both sides to invite one another for a reunion. Although a part of her had missed the middle brother who was six years a junior to her, the sudden recall of the man that she had done the most to wipe him off her memory by drowning herself in oceans of the strongest liquor, which had unfortunately failed (she had thought of the intriguing idea of possible brain trauma but what had halted her was if she wanted to forget the joyful memories). “And oh, bring some souvenirs.”

Without refuting the order, Y/N placed the phone back to where it resided. She let out a low chuckle at his words, finally piecing it all together after the call had ended. The wires were being watched.

“What a sight to wake up to,” A husky voice stated in a thick French accent, slicing the empty air into two loaves. Averting her attention towards the bed, her eyes landed on the male who leaned against the headboard, his elbows pointing up in the air- sporting his flexing muscles on display. The chestnut-haired male wore an irritating yet charming smirk that ran across his face, his pearly teeth glittered under the sunlight. It was possibly one of the reasons why he was in her room.  “Come ‘ere.”

As she ambled- the prominent raising peak underneath the sheet was evidence that his eyes were running down her figure shamelessly as sinful thoughts ran in his head. She swayed her hips before halting beside the bed. Shrugging the translucent sheet off her shoulders, the robe pooled around her like mercury, exposing her at all her glory. It was not the first time he saw her naked. And it was only hope that it would certainly not be his last. The worry she had not too long ago of being seen by strangers from the opposing building had been thrown out of the window. Tugging the blanket off, his tongue ran across his bottom lip while he devoured on the sight, his eyes trained on hers as she indulged the throbbing shaft.

“Ah, fuck me.” A wanton moan fell off her lips at good-morning sight, already desperate for the bulging veins to caress and drag against her walls.

“So the lady says.” He groaned as the warm feeling of last night engulfed him. Strings of moans and groans like that of the night before rebounded from the walls.

Chatter and bickering hopped around the circular table. The chandelier that stood above them created wavering shadows with every muscle they moved. Warm and dim yellow rays coated the bodies. Even though sunlight shone inside the house, there was still a need for the electricity to be utilized. The men who did not have the privilege to sit on the chairs but have the opportunity to observe the constant feud watched the circle of people endlessly hurl words onto one another. Well, it was mostly between the pair of blue eyes and the distraught aunt.

The wallpaper was rich in green, a bland colour as a background to the contrasting blaring blue ceramic plates that sat above in the shelves. A faint knock rapped the wooden door. Since a battle was being undone in the room, the sound of the guest was engulfed by an unsatisfied individual on the table. The tension inside the room was palpable even though a door stood between Y/N and the conversers.

Running her eyes on the walls, she tried to spot something interesting along the hallway which she could get lost into. However, all she could think of was the souvenirs she had brought all the way from France; the long-awaited reunion of an old lover. She wouldn’t call it nervousness, she would never admit to such a label. So she went with the assumption that it was the jitters. The patiently waiting-woman couldn’t help but wonder if Thomas had told everyone about her or if she was going to be the surprise that leads to heart attacks. Just like at the pictures, a play of her memories with the middle brother pulsed with every beat of her heart.

After a few seconds had passed, her hands were quick to snatch at the pocket watch that was stuffed in her pocket. The door was yet to open. Turning back to look at the men she solely trusted, the English shrugged his shoulders- not comprehending to why they had not been in the room. Raising her hand in the air once again, she rapped the door. As if a sword had run through the thick air that was beginning to suffocate the arguing chests, silence barged through the doors. Enlightenment to the skulls that would’ve snapped into fragments.

“Finn, get it.” Bopping his head to his brother’s instructions without any bicker, the youngest dashed towards the door. Thomas took a puff of his cigarette, the swirl of smoke inhaled into his lungs, warming his chest.

An antagonizing slow creak blurted in the air, glueing all the eyes onto the unexpected guest. Questions sprinted in Polly’s head. Was it someone he had been expecting? He had looked calm and collected, though, that was just how the second oldest Shelby was, after the war. His face like a brick wall, only chips of cement could sputter out of his mouth while his face remained stoic. By the voices in the air, her doubt had been correct. It was hard to believe Thomas would do such a thing, inviting someone- most likely a stranger to a business meeting which should have only consisted of the closed Peaky Blinders, without informing others. It was something he rarely did if the other times were eradicated where he proceeded with his plan without informing the family. Oh, that was most of the time. There was no extra chair for the guest. The most understandable reason was Thomas wanted to introduce an ally that he has been hiding for God knows how long. Even that brought steam to puff out of Polly’s ears. Her eyes threw a glance at her nephew, whose back was facing the door, only taking frequent puffs of his cigarette. What game is he playing?

“Is Thomas Shelby here?” Finn did not help but notice the towering bodies behind her figure and the humongous bags they held- not even quiver, which should be a sign that it might’ve been an attack of sort. A slight tint of red stroked his face as his fingers brushed over the holster in his jacket. She was either a woman of power from the men behind her or she was nothing but a spoiled lady. Although he did deal with women with power from day-to-day bases, which was more of observing the women Tommy would tangle with, there was something that enchanted her ambience. A spell cast onto him.

Taking rapid glances at his appearance as he turned around to look at his brother for an answer, it was as if she could see his character like a display, seeing through him transparently. Not a bad suit, hair combed extremely cautiously and the face of a babe. She quirked an eyebrow, an interesting yet perplexing combination. Although he did look very familiar, Y/N didn’t bother to prod much into the idea as she sees faces every single day.

Finally facing her once again, he nods at her question. The slight opening of the door only allowed her to view the wallpaper and a head from the boy’s lanky shoulders, he shot his inquiry, catching her off-guard, “What’s your business with Tommy?”

Believing what he was doing was the right protocol, Finn proceeded with the short interrogation; even though it felt like it was being reverted to him every time he took a rapid glance at the men behind her, “Why? You his bodyguard?”

The recently changed boy to a man, wrinkled his nose, gaze focused on her as he tried his hardest to read her, much to his dismay, every item his eyes grazed over, it had only caused him to go in a loop. The array of golden rings decorating her fingers like a twinkling Christmas tree, caused him to assume that she might’ve been a lady flaunting with money. However, the endless list of questions Finn had thought of caused him to be nauseous as the acidic liquid elevated his throat. Where would she get her money from? “I’m not, I’m his brother. Will you answer the question or not?” Blaring across her mind were countless of possibilities that she could’ve said to respond to his question.

But, the bucket of water splashed across her blackboard, flooding it with a thick layer of glazed liquid, obstructing her ability to see all of the answers when his tongue had run across his bottom lip. Oh no. This was the youngest brother John had told her about during the rare days where they could sit back while others guarded. Her mouth gaped open to respond to his question; however, the deeper she swam in the mess, the harder it was for her to remain in search.

Finn raised his eyebrows, arms crossed to lean against the door frame- emitting a slight cocky aura which Y/N could not help but find slightly amusing and magnetic. Before he got back to his more respectful position when it felt like he was being judged by the accompanying man, Finn’s mouth gaped open to press the trigger again. Despite the voices in his head reminding that he was a Shelby.

“Just let her in.” Glances were thrown from the ladies, definitely not expecting the unexpected guest who would interrupt the meeting to be a female. What was she? The freshest whore Tommy had indulged in? If it wasn’t for Thomas’s interruption, she would’ve surely needed a seat for the torturing investigation. Somewhat not grasping the idea of how his brother knew of the guests’ gender, Finn followed the command without a word, opening the door wide open for the guests.

“Wait here.” Y/N’s voice of superiority caused soft trickling of fingers to brush up Finn’s spine. Since the door was blocked by Thomas’s body, no one could see who the individual was, unless they decided to take a risky side peek. However, the three men that stood next to the wall, obeying the command, with three massive bags in their grasp, had directly caused everyone to be pushed to the edge. What was Thomas planning? The corners of Tommy’s lips curled up once distant clicking of heels echoed closer towards his ears, but never a smile, never since Grace’s death. The door creaked back shut. Moving aside, Tommy revealed the woman that caused everyone to get riled up. The ones who stared at her with a slight recognition of her familiar face had finally pieced it all together once he had announced the guest. Finn took his newly given seat at a table, an honour, a prerogative. He crossed his arms, leaning back against the wooden chair to watch the scene unfold.

“Thomas Shelby, it’s been a long fucking time.” A satisfied line sported on Tommy’s lips.

“Everybody, this is Y/N Stein, all the way from America. Was in my unit before she decided to desert us all.” The youngest in the room eyes’ widened at the sudden collision of information which leads him to be dunked into a mass of an ocean, it was overwhelming.

An amused huff escaped her lips at his obvious lie he had just hurled out on new pairs of eyes, well, it was half-lie and half-truth. Although it was not entirely a lie, he had just scratched off the surface, which without deeper context, it would’ve been an easy misunderstanding, “Close your fucking mouth, Tom,” Noticing that the rest of the group did not get the note, Y/N finished to defend herself. “I had to leave for some issue.”

Thomas rolled his eyes at her horrible attempt to drift from the topic, he was amused at how she was trying to humble herself, “Saved John’s life and off she went to Germany to spy for the fucking British Secret Service.”

Slapping his arm, Y/N stood flabbergasted that he had spilt her past during the war. Lizzie watched the interaction with vigilant eyes, alcohol was thrown onto the fire behind her eyes- feeding the voracious element. It was not just her though.

“Y/N Stein. It’s been so long since I’ve heard the name.” Shooting up, Arthur pulled the lady into his arm. He held on for seconds, not a thought of his wife would be roaring with confusion and jealousy flew passed his head as he embraced the reunion. During the bloodshed, the Shelby brothers had enjoyed her company, especially after John had fallen into a terrible condition, making them closer than ever. Even though the middle child was nowhere near his station, she had decided to aid him because it was the bloody war and every soul was worth it. “Those American had been rubbin’ their accent on ya, haven’t they?” The former war-nurse smacked his arm with a laugh, her head thrown back at his observation. Despite her exhausting agile trip, she had always found herself to be enlightened by the eldest. An electrifying thunder was zapping between Lizzie and Linda as they side-eyed the intimate reaction.

“What can you do when you’re surrounded by New Yorkers, amirite Arthur? Jeremiah,” Noting that there was short of one particular person she had hoped to meet, she raised the question she thought she wouldn’t even have to ask. Even during such a bloody time, John’s presence was always prominent and he had radiated an ambience no one ever could. Well, no one she had ever met so far. He could be a nut-head at points but he was always there for her when she needed someone. A shoulder. It was too quiet without him being in the room. “Where’s John?” The room had ebbed to silence once again. Wearing long faces that met with the floor, everyone had suddenly found the ground to be engaging.

After a few seconds which passed like an ancient and a decrepit train, Arthur amplified his voice to answer since no one had dared to reply, “He, uhm, he’s gone.” He stuttered while he fiddled with the rough pads of his fingers, knowing well the history the pair had. Tears welled up on his eyes even though he had bawled a lake-full of water not too long ago. A familiar ringing sunk into her ears as if she had been plunged into the dark abyss of water. No light shone down, terrified of what the deep beyond holds. Every frantic snap she made with her body, she was faced with the same darkness, her accompany, her watcher. The water had muffled her potency to hear, taunting her with indistinct chatter. Words she could not even make out.

“Oh.”

The rubble of fallen cylindrical death piled up like an insubstantial building as if struck by artillery. Before putting an end to the flaking red ashes, Tommy took his last puff, stabbing his cigarette into the glass ashtray. Crying out for help, it wheezed to permanent sleep, “Anyways, Y/N is here to aid us during this… turmoil,” The abrupt and direct change to business from Tommy had piqued her interest even though the bandages wrapped around her heart were draping down so loosely. Polly let out a chuckle of disbelief, gaining a warning glance from Thomas.

There was a switch in the man that flipped. However, she didn’t prod much into the point she had noticed since he had served four bloody years on the battlefield. Four torturous years of seeing blood and as for him, the narrow tunnels he had dug out for hours with crumbling dirt and sludge. “She will be assisting in the area of her expertise, firearm.”

“I will?” Y/N inquired with furrowed eyebrows. The woman who possessed dark bags under her eyes, leaned back into her chair when something seemed off-putting; her eyes watching like a hawk, so vigilant and persistent to dig deeper into the resurfacing secret. Never had Thomas mention her before, well, never did he talk about what had happened during the bloody war either. When Thomas had called her which was the only contact they had made, he had not written a letter informing her of details. She had understood his reason for not directly telling her over the telephone line; however, a scribbling of a letter would’ve allowed her to prepare to what was coming. Then after two days of the contact, Y/N had left whatever business she had in France to men she had trusted; she cruised on a boat towards her desired destination with no idea on what she was about to face. “Oh, yes, I will.”

Shoulders suddenly tensed, not at all expecting for her to be someone they had thought. Even the eldest Shelby stared at her in shock. The woman who wore the navy blue dress, that was not thriving in England, with an exquisite fashion of gold that embellished her figure, was part of a gun trading business? Although the thought died down slightly when their eyes glanced at the three men in splendid suits that came in with her, it still had shaken them to the core.

Ada elevated her eyes to find any points she could note from the woman’s appearance, noticing the fading trail of a handful of tattoos painting her skin. It was a smear of ink on her neck, although, it had only peeked out when she would shrug her shoulders. Tilting her head at her inked hand, Ada’s eyes squinted at the drawing that resembled what had cost her brother’s life. Before she could take another good view to confirm her suspicion, Y/N’s hands were then stuffed in her pocket for warmth. The Shelby made accidental eye contact with the woman she had been staring at.

An amused smirk sported on Polly’s lips as she took a sip of the warm liquid. There were many, multiple times Tommy had managed to baffle her; however, this, this was crossing his imaginary line by a great distance, “We already have enough guns.”

Tommy mumbled, not bothered to look at his aunt, “Pistols. Y/N here, have something much more... predatory.”

“Although I haven’t brought the lot of them, I’m sure my boys can handle an urgent call,” The three men stomped their way towards the table with a gesture of her finger, their gait shaking the ground like an earthquake. The hats they wore tilted to the sides, somehow still resting upon them despite it being hanging off the edge. Bulging through the material of the bag could’ve been assumed as useless sticks; however, if the straps were to be tugged open by the wrong audience, it could’ve been the cause for someone to be thrown behind bars that they would have to call home. “Got me the good batch of Rifles, Machine guns and Shotgun.”

The legs of the table shook, quivering at the abrupt weight pressed at the top of its head. Tremors vibrated through the wooden table before Y/N’s men tugged the sealed straps with such ferocity and strength. The bottle of rum danced to the beat, the liquid slammed into the container walls of the glass cup like the highest tide of the day. Flabbergasted at how the atmosphere had altered from a choking tension to amusement with a simple addition of a person, Linda could not believe it. Especially by the fact that it was a woman who had run the whole syndicate.

“Why more firearm? ‘Tis a vendetta of what? 15?” Arthur inquired.

Thomas nodded, he paced towards the table, fingers brushing over the chilly metal, “Heard that he’s involving Sabini’s men too, not just for vehicles. All he wants is his bullets to end up in us, reserved royally by the avenger himself.” 

“These are my most trusted men,” Y/N uttered once Thomas threw a glance at her. Her head was held high as she watched them pluck the straps open to reveal the stack of firearms that had been stuffed in the bag. Pride torched in her body as she watched eyes glint. Nodding her head at each figure, she listed, “Gavin, Connor and Dante.”

“Italian name.” Polly blurted as her droopy eyes from the medication she had been consumed, peeked at the blare of reflection from the guns. Narrowing her eyes towards the man who backed away from the table to stand beside his boss, Polly quirked an eyebrow. The olive skin of the Italian had been painted with his raven untamed locks. The voice urged at her to keep a hairs’ breadth distance between her fingers and her gun that was tucked in the waist of her pants’. She barely knew the woman and she managed to drag an Italian into the Peaky Blinders’ meeting.

“Yes, he fell onto my plate when there were... mishaps,” Y/N declared. The man whose broad shoulders were squared intensely stared into Polly’s eyes, his head held up high as her glare did not quiver him. “He also teaches me some Italian from time to time. Although, I don’t have much time for that lately, do I?” The claimed Italian shook his head.

“You brought an Italian here,” Polly exclaimed prodding onto the point to why she was even speaking. Was Tommy calling for his death wish? “How do we know he isn’t part of that buffoon of a mafia?”

Before Y/N could even inquire her question, Tommy interjected, “Polly,” Having to see his friend being grilled alive by his aunty was not a pleasant sight that he would tolerate. Especially since this was also meant to be a business conversation; professional. Tommy sighed, “We can trust Y/N.”

“Clearly you do,” His aunt grumbled, flicking her cigarette case with a clash before lighting it up with haste as if the longer she thought about this ridiculous plan, the more ludicrous it will be. Although the time went passed by at an antagonizing pace, Polly would have rather have to go through with Tommy’s past, foolish acts, rather than watching him place all his trust onto a sole woman. “He could be passing information back to him.” 

“Polly, that’s enough,” Tommy instructed with slight superiority in his voice. Polly glared at her nephew before smoke eased her mind. “I’ve heard words flying about that they have made a deal with Sabini, we must stay alert. Finn, go show the men their lodge, the building I had pointed out today while passing and Y/N’s also. I’ll send someone to check the guns, tomorrow, midday.”

Finn’s eyes widened at the job he had been assigned to, glancing at Isaiah who shrugged his head with a faint smirk that he would always wear. This was his chance to prove to Tommy that he was worthy of becoming a Peaky Blinder; that he was ready as a soldier ready to be deployed. 

“Isaiah, you tag on.” 

“Tommy, it’s not a fucking field trip,” Before Tommy could justify to why sending Isiah was a good idea, she had cut him off. “No, I swear to God, if I see a Peaky behind me I’ll use him as a shooting target. Plus, put a little trust on your brother, won’t ya?” Noticing the peculiar glances thrown between Arthur and a blonde lady, Y/N spoke up as she lit a cig. “What? Oh, the God part. Yeah, would’ve believed in him if it wasn’t for the war.”

Linda clenched her jaw at the insolent woman who had used the name in vain. Tommy took a second of pondering, before nodding reluctantly. Was it a good idea? However, he believed with the presence of the three, clearly strong men she had brought, she was safe. A catastrophic debate was set off in his head, questioning if he should risk sending a car to follow them. He signalled his head towards the three exposed bags. Isaiah paced towards the bag, strapping it to a close, ready to be handed back to its owner, “Oh, keep it here, my storage is full at the moment.” 

Y/N stared at the bags as it was being strapped, a faint and faded voice whispered with an ever so lightly volume to take one for safety even though a pair of frigid metal were tucked safely in her coat. The voice had warned her of a premonition that reeked of imminent disaster where her two pistols were of no use, “Although, I’ll take this one.” Grabbing the straps on one of the bags containing the sole rifle, she slung it across her shoulder. Without a word, he bopped his head as a silent order towards the two men to proceed with the command.

Finn shot up with the idea that he would take the bag off of Y/N’s shoulder, to only tower over her figure with his lanky height. No words fell from his mouth when the task was simple: Be a gentleman. Finn’s lips wavered, opening and shutting as if he had something to say. Suddenly, his ability to construct a sentence had been hurled out of the window. The only female Shelby couldn’t hold back her amused chuckle at Finn’s lack of ability and practice on the opposite gender. Finn gazed into her eyes, Y/N’s eyebrows clashed into one another, furrowing in impeccable confusion to why he was acting so peculiar.

“We keep this at Charlie’s yard, yeah?” Since Johnny picked up the bag containing a whole load of shotguns, it had caused his shoulder to slump down from the hefty weight. Isaiah with his own set of weight quirked an eyebrow. Getting a simple nod from Tommy, the two men left the room. When the youngest had already dashed towards the door with pink cheeks from embarrassment, Tommy called, halting the boy’s huge strides, “Finn.”

With his great reflexes the flying car key that hovered from one side of the room to the other, fell into the palms of his hands. Finn stared at it with awe, a twinkle in his eyes of amazement and disbelief. It was not always every day when Tommy would hand his keys to the 18-year-old boy. The opportunity for him to drive a car felt exciting, especially when the key to it is in his hands, “You take care of the car or else you won’t be seeing the sun tomorrow.”

The sun yawed, exhausted at the tiring task it would do every day- repeatedly without a stop, unless, it was the end. The ball of flames crawled down; pleading help from his friend once more. Painted with streaks and lines of red, the sun had spread its largess across the warming yellow sky. A call to those who stood awake.

“So you sell guns?” It had been slightly intimidating with three men sitting at the back who if they were to protect the woman, they must’ve committed nasty work. Every so often, Finn would remember that they had snatched the straps with such strength that he began to ponder whose blood had been spilt on their hands, supported by the fact that they work with firearms. It was to the point Finn had to loosen his tie, sweat clamouring on his chest.

It was when Y/N had ordered for the direction to change to a new route, the youngest Shelby didn’t bother to prod. So he had done as he was told, however, it was only the three men that had gotten off the vehicle. Although it wasn’t his ill-intention, he had eavesdropped on the exchanged words between the boss and the daunting men. It was something along the lines of making calls and warehouses. Finally, Finn was left alone with the woman sitting by his side. Once the newly man had cleared his throat, he decided to pick up a conversation with the woman; not liking the present of a heavily-pregnant, awkward silence. No communication happened between the pair despite them sitting next to each other for nearly an hour as the sun had set. The only noise that made way to play a melody was the rough drumming of the engine, unnecessary bumps and screaming from the civilians who had not cared for their rest.

“I do, yeah,” Y/N let out a chuckle at his obvious question, Finn nodded. Tapping the steering wheel to an asynchronous rhythm, he tried his best to eliminate the idea of making a slight mistake. Not will it only cause an ending to his life by his older brother, it would cost Y/N’s also. With the sudden thought that popped in his head, his palms were drowning in sweat. Not a good idea. “You in the Peaky Blinders?”

Although it might’ve been a stupid question since he had worn the signature cap, Y/N had to flow with the questions thrown back and forth; not liking the silence between them. A hum was muffled by his throat, “I am,” A huff came from the engine as the vehicle entered a path where the roadwork was not so great and smooth. “So, were you a nurse when you were in the war? Not assuming that you could’ve been anything, of course, working in the war offices for example or a cooker. I just thought you were a nurse because that was pretty common.”

Darkness cast over the vehicle as a gigantic red-bricked house shielded the car from the blaring moonlight. A chuckle escaped Y/N’s lips when Finn had finished his rambling, turning her body towards the boy whose face was splashed with red paint; she found it adorable, “I was in fact, a nurse. You guessed correctly.”

“Medals?” If it wasn’t for Thomas’s words about wounding the car, Finn would’ve glanced at the woman, which was a horrible idea because his face was crimson from already displaying all his red pumping and running veins.

“Turned them to these.” Blaring into his eye were sparkles like that of a smear of twinkling stars, iridescent gold shimmers stirred in the gems, despite it being a golden ring, the gem still captured his eyes with its dark brown backdrop. 

An awkward silence filled the ambience once again.

The inquiry played against Finn’s ears, “What exactly is the issue you all are currently facing that made Tommy call me?” There were a hundred of ways he could answer her, maybe structure it so she would be satisfied. However, he was made clear by no other than Tommy that it be he who would do the elaboration over the plan with her.  

“Tommy said he’ll talk to you about it, didn’t want me to mess something up.” The lady who was twice his age chuckled, shaking her head at the older brother’s actions.

“Typical Tommy, always hogging the queen piece to himself.” She chuckled, shaking her head.

“You seem close to my brothers,” The chestnut-haired boy stated an obvious inspection. “When you heard that John died, you looked devastated.”

“A blunt observation said as a statement without holding back.” Y/N quirked her eyebrows, tilting her head in slight amusement. Trying her best to not chuckle at the blushing boy, “Have they taught you no manners, boy?” Y/N liked that her words had brought up such a reaction. Something she had never witnessed. Most likely because she had always been with men. Tinting his cheeks with a darker splash of red, she could see that we were trying not to take a peek at her.

“I’m not a boy,” Finn gritted his teeth, the clench in his jaw could’ve snapped his teeth into fragments of mints. “I’m a man. I’m a Shelby, I don’t need manners.”

Y/N’s eyes blinked at his response, “Even the serpents of politicians have some manners, what would that make you?”

Heavy breathing fell from his nostrils, his clench on the steering wheel tightened as he felt himself being belittled. Never had he been treated like this, if his now-deceased brother was excluded, especially from a female.

Noticing the air had gone still, Y/N mumbled, turning her attention to her window on her side, “You know, Tommy had saved my life during the war,” She stated, her eyes watched as the boats danced over the gentle crashing of waves on the canal before they had entered another route. “I’m practically in debt to him.” Even though she knew she was possibly going to be off the line, her mouth had not halted. “Tell me, Finn, you wear that hat like a tiara. Are your cuts and scars hidden?”

It seemed Y/N had hit a soft spot, “Are all your bags at the place?” Finn pursed his lips, teeth clawing back as he tried his best to not unleash what he wanted to hurl back at her.

Y/N hummed, “I did not only bring three of my men you know? With this line of work, I must be out of my mind to do such a thing.”

Before Finn could agree with her factual statement, an exhausted huff came from the back of the car. The speed that it once sprinted through declined, halting the vehicle to the side of the road, underneath the shadow of a building. Glowing down with faint rays of light, the moon’s spotlight had only glistened over the road. Flickers from the street lamp was a battle cry, an indication that war was striding over.

Finn scowled at the inconvenient breakdown. Already irritated, his hands rested over the heavy door, ready to grab a can of petrol to feed the starving car.

“Don’t!” Tugging his collar down to slam his back into the cushion of the seats with her hovering over him, a familiarized sound Y/N had gotten used to, had swept through the air before grazing the glass. Two cracks banged through the empty street. A chorus of shatters sprinkled the floor as a decoration. Shattering into a million prickling fragments, the flooring of the car was now like a bed of snow made up of pins. Finn laid under her with a gaped opened mouth, breathing heavily when his ability to breathe was restricted for a short second.

He gritted his teeth, the infant glass shards caressed his face. The claws dug into his skin before diving down, his face like a mountain as their blades provide a safe landing like an ice axe. Never was it a good idea to take a peek at your enemies who had been targeting you with a rifle; however, Y/N had only taken a glimpse before they decided to brush their finger against the trigger. The car that had suspiciously rested in the corner of the building with men in impeccable suits and a homburg hat was the only thing Y/N needed to know what was to follow.

“We’re being ambushed.” The woman declared, stating the obvious. Blood sprinted down her body, her heart strenuously pumping to supply. Her eyes widened as the adrenaline rushed through her body.

A string of thoughts ran through Y/N’s head. Then, it all clicked together like a flawless combination for a gun. Rummaging her fingers through her lanky coat, she pulled out what looked like a cigarette case. Finn gazed at her object before darting it towards her as if she had gone mental. She flicked it open with ease despite the dripping sweat that painted her hands, to reveal the reflecting mirror. Without a conscious thought, she shifted to find a better angle. There. Once her mirror had spotted the prominent shadow figures, their hats peaking in the air as if a shooting target, she let out a light chuckle. As light adjusted, the corners of her lips curled down when her eyes grazed over the machine gun they had dragged out, throwing it on the hood of the car. However, it seemed they had been watching through the scope the entire time as another sole bullet swished to fracture the now dead street lamp. The light dimmed down. Standing under the shadow provided by the blocky building, Thomas’s car was hidden away from the spotlight.

Finn’s shoulders tensed as the shatter of glass echoed through his ears once again. The terrible music would drive him to insanity. Even though he was in a tight situation, he couldn’t help but think about what Tommy would’ve thought about the minuscule yet probably visible scratches from the glass shards. Not to mention the vehicle that would need heavy repairing. He was dead meat. Not to forget that he was the one who decided to take a shortcut towards her lodge- the shorter route with horrible scenery. What a way to show an outsider Birmingham. 

“Listen to me, Finn, alright?” The younger boy gazed into her eyes, his mind deteriorated as Y/N hovered over his body upside-down, with an inch of distance between them. Strands of her swirly hair kissed his skin, tickling it with slight grazing. Her eyes were captivating, enchanting him into a place he had never been to; a place he wished to stay forever. Realizing he had not answered her question while he was lost in his thoughts, he nodded with a gulp. “Good, I need you to stay low,” With her superior voice, she commanded the young boy, shivers crawled up his spine as his mind travels to other words she could utter. “Don’t get out, stay here and raise the bag when I tell you to. You understand?”

Her breathing and voice breezed over his face, casting a spell on him just like the white powder he would sniff to ease his mind, “Yes, I mean yes.” Noticing that the pitch of his voice was a bit too high, he cleared his throat, lowering it deeper. Before he could process her words, he had given in to an order he didn’t like. What was he supposed to do? Actually, stand down? He’s a Shelby for fuck's sake. Although cheering in his head agreed with the idea, the cuts on his face played a taunting game. With ever slight contraction of his face’s muscle, his skin tore apart wider. But what was he thinking? He had never been in a situation like this. If he was, his brothers would be the one to step in front.

With minimal movements and sounds, Y/N reached the handle, cranking it down. Shutting her lips and eyes as she opened the door, a faint begging in her head hoped that a sound would not be produced. Much to her dismay, a creak resounded from the rubbing of metal. The silence was too good to be true, the promise it uttered was broken. A series of banging boomed even though they could barely see anything. Embellishing the black car, bullets whirled through the metal to pierce the back seat.

As cotton was thrust up into the air, Finn curled into a ball, hands against his ear. Indistinct chatter from the corner of the building was followed by fusses. Like running a wooden stick against an odd, wavy metal sheet, the loud noise they made as they had reloaded the machine gun for another round of massacre echoed through the still air.

If they had been slightly more precise or weighed with more luck at a random shot, they could’ve already put Y/N in a vulnerable state. A scowl sported on Y/N’s lips, men like them have been given a horrible plan. Sure it might be a good thing for her since she is currently being targeted, victory should never be celebrated until the deed is over. Even though they might get a good shot from the bottom of the vehicle, it seemed their scrawny little brains were only present for a lazy kill. To bring two heads on silver plates, served to the King which should be more challenging than this.

Tommy’s car was not too far away from the wall of a building with Y/N’s side of the car facing the wall. An advantage for her to sneak out of the vehicle. Also benefitting from the shadow that cast over the car, the rays of light shone upon the opposite side as if they stood under a spotlight, giving her a better chance at an angle she could work with.

Landing on the floor with gentle movements like a cat, she crouched down before opening the back door. Finn, who had already twirled to his stomach, watched as she successfully dragged the bag from the back seat, “Y/N,” He whispered, calling out her name as if a lost child to his mother. She snapped her head to face him. “I can’t just wait here while you out there.”

Nearly moved by his thoughtfulness, she stared at him blankly before realizing a fault, “Ah, right,” A twinkle sparked on Finn’s face when it seemed she had given him the chance to participate. However, it diminished when she had tugged her coat to reveal her silky shirtwaist, to only pull out a pistol from her shoulder holster. It then made home on his palm; before he could tug it out of her hand, she stared dead-centre in his eyes. “Remember, don’t even try to look at them. Tommy will hang me if anything was to happen to you.”

Even though he was disappointed he had been treated like a mere child who was being watched by his brother’s friend, he nodded in understanding. Shivers crawled up his spine once again as the tone of her voice brushed against his back with frigid touches.

Strapping the bags open, the scent of leather filled her lungs with a tinge of metal lingering on her tongue. The rifle was lodged on her lap. Thrusting the safety lock back into the bag, a clash banged onto the stone pavement. Thankfully, it was overlapped by an abrupt commotion at the end of the block.

“Finn, take this,” Handing the leather bag to the young man, she watched as he pulled it into the vehicle. “On my signal.”

Like a duck, Y/N waddled towards the back tire. Her golden compact mirror in her left hand while her rifle in the other, she positioned the mirror to see the two individuals under the moonlight. They stood behind the hood of the car with a machine rifle propped on a tripod, the dagger-like ends pierced into their vehicle.

“Now.” As soon as the order was given, Finn, who had rested on his back, raised the slightly flimsy bag into the air. The men who waited for any sign of movement or life caressed the trigger without any hesitation. A long chain of bullets commenced an open fire. If the bag was a creature, it would’ve been murdered with the third bullet which flew through its heart. Not caring to why the shadow had not yet slumped into the seat, their guns continued to ring through her ears. Y/N hovered her finger over her trigger as she angled the scope to her desired spot. Finn’s breathing became heavy as the bullets rammed through the material as if it wasn’t even there. He hadn’t heard a crack from hers yet. Before he had the chance to call out her name as if to wake her up from her dream. A clap echoed through the road.

Bouncing off her rifle, the bullet sprung into the still air like rice on a drum. Twirling like a prestigious ballerina, its toes peaked below, thrusting its heavy body ever so slightly. A heavy thud echoed through the dark alley. The motionless body rested onto the ground with a gushing volcano between his eyes.

Indistinct clutter bounced off the walls. The other man who had watched his accompany fall onto the frigid ground grasped the pistol grip. Y/N’s body snapped to lean against the tire, the rifle rests on her chest as the ballistic man intensely pulled on the trigger. In her head, she was on her knees as she could not risk shifting back into the car for safety. Even a millisecond without the protection of the tires, she was exposed to the gunfire. A wince fell off her lips as a clash of bullet met with the ground before reflecting to ting with the brick wall.

For Finn, it felt like hours; however, the boy had not experienced the bloody rain of war. Before she knew it, the raining of furious bullets had halted. A groan of irritation echoed from the corner of the building. The gun must’ve overheated. Peeking over her shoulder to take a rapid glance at the corner, the man had disappeared. Without a second thought, she grasped the ball grip before flicking it shut, reloading the ammo. Squinting her eyes, she hovered her scope over the tires. Another clap resounded off the walls. A cry burst from the tire that had begun to sink the balance of the car onto the ground. There was no angle she could shoot the man if she hadn’t moved from her position, hasty stomping faded away from the scene.

“Fuck.” Y/N uttered under her breath before she made a sprint towards the running body, her fingers wrapped around the other pistol in her holster. The rifle she had used was thrown to clash against the floor.

Noticing the haunting silence, Finn made a silent prayer before he sat on prickling seat. Through the smashed glass, the dagger-like ends met to a point for him to see the woman running away from the car, “Y/N!” Finn yelled at the top of his lungs, not caring that he might’ve had a bullet targeted on him.

“No! You stay there!” She ordered before running over the bridge that curved over the canal. Leaning against the wall of the building, she took a peek at the gun that sat on the hood of their Model T. When entering the firearm business, an eye that twinkled with gold could read the gun as if it was a person. And read the gun she did. It was a Benét-Mercié. A French design. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion as she took a glance at the man she had murdered.

His eyes stared into the moonlight, the art she had indented between his eyes was a masterpiece. She had been around and fraternize enough men to note that he was an Italian. She had hopped around with a fair few amount of Italians to reassure her assumption. Although the machine rifle they had used was the gun utilized in the war, it had left her perplexed. Even though the location of her business was in free land America and she had a twinge of experience with the machinery, she could not comprehend to how they had gotten a French gun. Overall, what was an Italian doing with a French gun?

A groan from the narrow alley trickled into her ears, remembering that there was another one to complete the pair. Y/N sauntered with light steps as if a predator had finally spotted its meal for the day. Hasting towards the man, Y/N heard a curse uttered under his breath. Tugging out his hair in frustration, his hairs swirled around his fingers like a whip. His neck nearly snapped as he looked at the peak of the wall, separating him from his ability to escape the madness he had entered.

Finally noting her presence, he turned around to face her. The dread overflowed his eyes as he glanced at the corpse of his accompany. She narrowed her eyes as he pushed himself into a damp corner, cowering away from her. It was as if he was shrinking, a prey to her. To a woman?

“Who sent you?”

For a few seconds, his staggering breathing was the snaring to the incredibly busy road. However, his hands moved swiftly to grab the pistol he had safely tucker in his holster. Y/N’s fingers moved faster. Another press to the trigger and a bullet made home in his arm. An agonizing yell roared through the alley, a pair of legs did not hesitate to start running towards the direction she had sprinted to. The hole in his sleeves made a garnish to his plain suit, the red staining like wine. Red, ancient wine. Kicking the pistol out of his grip, Y/N held her gun’s on his head. Sweat swam down his face as his body made place on the floor. He clutched his hand, squeezing the gushing wound. It was burning like a blister had been rubbed over.

Making her way towards the wounded man, she harshly tugged on his hair, “I said, who sent you?”

He quivered as the cold kiss of her gun pressed on his temple, a battle of whether he should answer her or not was thrown out of the window once he realized he was standing over a string between life and death. Except, he had never seen her ever before. A pathetic yet desperate thought made to his non-existent head. There was hope that this woman was of no power, just another whore to the Shelby’s. Even though he had just witnessed his accompany fall onto the floor with a hole between his eyes, he had tried his hardest to lie to himself that it was all that young Shelby’s doing. In no way was he about to give in, “Sabini! Darby Sabini!”

However, it seemed his tongue had slipped the wine glass onto the floor. A bullet submerged into his skull, snapping his bones into fragments as a burst of blood splashed onto her face, “Y/N.” A gentle voice called her from the entrance of the alley. The woman who had been in the business for several years had to the gentle tone in her life. Unfortunately, it was only resounded by people who had fork-like tongues. Serpents.

This time, it was like a caress against her arm with care as if she was fragile glass. Nothing she had heard of, “Finn.” The young boy stared at her with wide eyes, the gun he held in his hand was clearly of no use anymore. Like an unnecessary amount of jewellery worn on women’s whose husbands danced with the devil, the beads of blood dotted against her skin. Finn glanced at the slumped body. There was only white in his ajar opened eyes, the colour that usually adds an indication of identity had rolled up towards his brain.

Finn liked to believe it was an instinct because he had one older sister; although, a part of his heart opposed to agreeing with the belief. The boy dashed towards the woman, gripping her arms with a slight tug; not too much force to hurt her, “Are you alright?” Turning her left and right to check for any wounds, he was relieved when there was no hole to indicate a bullet had plunged into her.

“I’m quite alright, just a little parched.” Finn chuckled at her sudden appearance of amusement despite her being covered in blood. It must’ve been her careless head to forget the merciless weather Britain possessed, her frigid, shivering hand, made way to rest on his face. Like accidentally electrifying oneself, the boy jumped at the freezing contact.

She tugged her hand away once she had noted the slight tick from his muscle, it was probably uncomfortable on him. Grabbing the two frozen hands into his own, the size of his hands had practically covered hers in one go. Rubbing his gloved thumbs in circles on her exposed palm, he looked down at her to gaze into her eyes. His height towered over her, “You didn’t bring gloves.”

“I noticed,” She mumbled. There was an unexplained glance at his lips. He did too. Without a word, Finn removed one of his hands from hers, leaving the other to warm her up. He tugged out his handkerchief from his jacket’s pocket to wipe the crimson red from her face. Although he had tried his best to not get pulled into her eyes or lips, he had lost. In the midst of wiping the droplets that rested on the corners of her lips, he could not move a muscle.

There were roars in his gut that he couldn’t help but to notice their protest to crawl out of his stomach and to shove him onto her. Although he had pulled himself out from the incredibly enchanting place, she had walked away towards the slumping corpse before he had the chance to proceed. Disappointment engulfed him. The dancing handkerchief tangled with the chilly wind, the white cloth had been stained like a spill. It quivered in the air like a surrender flag, a reminder to him that it was her who walked away, leaving him alone with the fabric he had brushed her skin with. “You know these men?”

“Looks Italian to me.”

“Said Sabini sent them.” Y/N glanced to face his reaction.

“Well then, aren’t they fucked.”

Ringing resounded off the walls of Tommy’s room. Seconds ago, it was tranquil with the indistinct sleep-talking by the clock. Now, all he could see was red. The darkness that confined and comforted him during the night glistened with the light rays from the radiating moon. Glueing his eyes onto the white ceiling, he waited patiently for the noise to stop so he could claim the rare times he would be able to sleep. Even though the air was suited freezing to his content, his seething anger for the attention-calling object warmed the covers for him. The sheets were no longer comfortable. Running his clammy hand down his face, there was always something stopping him from achieving what his heart desired; although, he just wanted a snooze because he had started to notice that he had looked mental (comments by nearly everyone who had the courage to, seeped through his day). Irritation coated his tongue. Bitterness hopped around his mouth when he realized that there were some fortunate people out there who were fast asleep. Then, there was him. A groan left his lips as he had finally been pushed to the edge.

When the hope of silence had not been met, Thomas hurled the blanket off his body. A flood of haphazardly thrown pillows that covered with his comforter caused annoyance to tug onto his ears. His patience had slacked down with a blink of his eyes. Narrowing his eyes onto the obstructive machine, the corners of his eyes were blurry with fuming anger. Almost yanking the telephone with his immense strength, the machine palpitated on the wooden table, swaying left and right like a dancer. Who could blame him? Someone had just disrupted his sleep.

“What?” Tommy sneered with murder dripping from his mouth. His tense grip on the phone could snap the metal in half. Although he wouldn’t usually pick up the telephone with such anger since the line of his work is practically embedded into him, this night, his thoughts were chugging faster than he could swallow down a pint of beer. His head was restless.

The stress in his eyebrows evaporated once a familiar silvery voice echoed through his ears, “Tommy, we’ve been ambushed. Two men.” Even though his grasp onto the metal remained with a constant force, the heat he had concocted sprung into the air once he had realized he could’ve lost two people within a night. His immunity to the frigid floor deteriorated, the floor pierced kisses as if it were incessant stabbing into the numb soles of his feet. 

“Whose men was it?” The clock on the wall of his house groaned, its arms dancing in coordination as it watched the man’s ears fume with anger like a furious train once a familiar name fell off his little brother’s lips.

“Sabini.”

A breathy exhale sunk into the phone, Tommy’s fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to digest the situation. The rumours were true, yet, he sent his guests off without any protection on his side. How could he assume that her three men were enough? He should’ve let someone trail after them, despite her objections. There was already an overflowing amount of issues thrown onto his plate, “Where are you now?”

“Y/N’s lodge. Said that it’d be safer for me to stay at hers for the night.” Finn twirled the wire of the telephone, the door of the bathroom had been closed for a while. 

Tommy hummed in agreement. The late timing of the day restricted his ability to construct words, especially with the fact that another meat had been thrust onto his plate. An exhausted exhale muffled the other side of the line, “Well, she’s right. If those men do not crawl back to Sabini with your head, they will double everything up. I’m sorry to say this Finn, but you’ll have to spend the night there,”

An indistinct mumble escaped Finn’s lips. Before the boy could place the phone back to where it resided, his brother spoke up once again, “Where’d you sent them off to?”

Without any additional word to the vague question, Finn answered with the assumption that there was someone who dared to listen to their conversation, as always, “Y/N had her men come in, showed them the canal.”

“The car?”

“No opened garage, so they made one open up.” A creak from a door trickled onto Tommy’s ears from Finn’s line. 

“I should have sent Isaiah to drive her home.” Before Finn had the chance to react, his gaze flicked towards Y/N. Although it was inappropriate for him to let his gaze linger on her, he couldn’t help but stare at awe. The golden edges of the dress-robe enchanted the translucent material that draped over her shoulders. A faded feminine voice in the distant mumbled incoherently to Tommy’s ears. The man could only make up some words, stitching them in a sentence before the voice was slightly more pronounced. 

“Finn, go clean yourself up, I’ll clean those wounds in a second.” A minute of silence passed. Finn let out a hum once she quirked an eyebrow at him for his confirmation. It was a wonder to how easily she had him with a glance. His eyes followed the woman’s figure before she disappeared into the sliding door of her room.

“Wounds?”

“Nothing serious, just cuts.” Deep down, Finn knew it would not be a simple task to remove the tedious glass shards that penetrated his face. A part of him shook its head, not agreeing with the idea that it would be painless. 

“I’ll call you tomorrow morning.” The call then ended. A shiver tremored through Thomas as he finally realized how chilly his room was. His feet paced faster before he threw himself onto the bed. Within a tug, all the items that scattered over the floor sat back to where it resided. Although the comforter was as soft as he could remember by his late wife’s choice, soft would not be the one to comfort his restless head while two significant people of his life had just been ambushed. Not a wink of sleep decided to greet him.

Staring down at the bustling street even though the moon had made a clear appearance in the night, men had women around their arms as they stumbled down the road. A half tipsy smile was worn on their faces. Y/N watched the lively road, trails of cars and strings of people occupied the area. As she leaned against the window with her arms crossed, she pondered over the saddening news that had cracked over her head like a spoiled egg. There was regret in her chest that roared actively without rest for years- screeching at her to make the simple contact. Now, she could give herself in as she had not landed her ears onto the thought. Despite the day ageing old, the city never sleeps. Oh, how she wished she could see him for the last time. 

Coating her tongue was the ancient red of champagne. Swirling the cup after every dashing thought that sprinted across her head, her attention had reverted towards the day that didn’t seem to want to find an end. A creak of a door echoed through her ears. Pulling her eyes away from the mesmerizing street, she was met with a freshly showered Finn.

Since he had been forced to stay down and not participate in the killing, there was no spill of blood on his suit. It was ideal because the woman did not want to pressurize another shop to open for her to only end up doing a shopping spree. However, it was not the same case for Y/N as her outfit had been splattered with red. So, she wore the other silky shirtwaist she had brought from her recent trip to France

“Hope you don’t mind me using that soap.” The boy mumbled. Thrown over his arm to dangle like a swing was his patterned, green tie, resting above layers of his other clothing that he had decided was not of use to wear. Left in his white shirt and his olive green suit-pants, he scratched the crook of his neck as he wore a sheepish smile at the poor decision he had made. What could he have done? It was the only available option. 

“Absurdly not,” Y/N uttered. As her eyes lingered longer than it should’ve been, she gestured towards the abundant of couches for him to rest on. “Come on, take a seat, I’ll get the stuff.”

Finn rested the clothing on the head of the couch, eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she had hastily placed the cup onto the coffee table before dashing away into her room. He plopped down onto the couch that was richer than the liquid resting in Y/N’s cup. His hands sat on his thighs as he watched her disappear into her bedroom. 

“So, uh, Ms Stein,” Like those pesky squirrels that would dominate the trees in New York with an acorn attached to their hands, the woman rummaged through her bedroom as if she was to find a treasure. Her fingers dug deep in the bag, hands grabbing onto objects that might have possessed the shape of the items she had visualized in her head. As her hand had brushed against a paper-like box, she was quick to yank it out of the bag. “You married?” 

The absence of response had caused the peaks of Finn’s ears to tint red at his pathetic question. Who was he to question her? They were barely even friends. Heck, he had just met her. But she did save him, does that mean something? Peeking her head out from the bedroom with the item in her hand, she narrowed her eyes.

“You see this?” Holding her hand up in the air, she twirled her hand around to show the boy her empty fingers, all her rings had been removed. She thrust the flimsy item onto the glass coffee table, a faint noise resounded by the minuscule object. Entering her room once again, her arms plunged in the massive leather bag to find the next item in her imaginary list. “I would’ve probably been at Rome maybe if that dirtbag had not cheated. Happily married,” Y/N let out an amused chuckle at the absurd thought. ”What a joke.”

“Oh.” Finn mumbled under his breath after realizing he had thrown himself into a hole he could not climb out off. If she had been in the war with Tommy, of course, she had at least been married once. What was he thinking? The air was heavily poured with furious yelling from the road and Y/N’s struggle to get the desired items out. 

“Also, call me Y/N, we’re friends now right?” Finn hummed in agreement as he gawked at the abundant amount of medical items bundled up in her arm. Shock overflowed in him when he realized she had brought all of this in her bag.

“Had you brought all of this? Is it a nurse instinct?” A chuckle echoed from the room, causing a smile to plaster on Finn’s face when he had achieved what he had in mind. A sparkle blared into his eyes when the shiny metal reflected the light rays to him. Beaming his eyes at the off-putting objects, Finn had suddenly become nervous, “Why did you tell me to head to bath first? Wouldn’t it be better if you had removed these first?” His fingers hovered over the glass that embedded his face, decorating his skin like jewels on a mistress’s extravagant dress.

Noticing that his feet could not rest on the ground as his legs bounced incessantly, Y/N held back a laugh, “Needed a clean surface,” She kneeled next to the coffee table and widened her arms, the items clashing with the tables- letting out a horribly written tune. “We wouldn’t want to risk with infections now, do we?”

It was that tone again, he had hated it deeply but all he could do was swallow it before it would climb out of his throat to only be splattered across her face. Finn nodded, oh boy, was he in for a ride. 

Finn sat on the couch with his fingers digging deep in his knees as the frigid tweezers plucked out the daunting pieces of glass. He sat on the couch with his white shirt on, his suit hung up on the coat rack. The blaring air conditioner caused shivers to crawl up his spine; however, thanks to the glass being plucked out of his skin, his body had created enough warmth to heat him up like a fireplace. Iron coated his tongue as his teeth sunk deep into the muscle. Although he had expected about only half a dozen worth of glass shards, it seemed it had beat his expectations to ruin.

“Ow!” He let out the familiar wince. Gritting his teeth so harshly, it was enough for it to wear off like brittle bricks. Despite his luck on trying to concoct a more painful site on his legs by pinching it, his mind always redirected to the obnoxiously close distance between his scarred face and her hands. It was chilly like the night’s wind not too long ago when they were in the ominous alleyway. However, in the comfort of her hotel, it was warm and cosy. Every so often, the metal of the equipment would kiss him, tugging out the embedded fragments. Due to the close proximity, Finn could not help but sniff out the silky scent of lavender. He wasn’t too sure if it was from him but it had comforted him through the excruciating pain.

Y/N huffed at his incessant amount of wincing. She could not believe he had not yet tolerated the pain despite having to pull out a couple already, “Stay still, won’t you?”

The tweezers that rested in her fingers rested over his shoulder. Every time she had gone anywhere close to his face with the equipment, he would flinch away- a repeated task she would have to repeat by shifting closer to him. She rolled her eyes once he had moved a couple of inches away from her. 

“How can I? It bloody hurts.” Finn scoffed, his hands pinched his leg as he tried his best not to touch his face that was still home to a couple of glass shards.

“I swear if you move again.” Y/N declared, her hands ready to remove another fragment from his face.

With another yank of her tweezer, he let out the wince before shifting away. If he had repeated this at least three more times, he would meet the ground as it was the edge of the seat. Frustrated at his actions, her hand landed on his thigh, a bit too close to his liking as her leg was thrown over his so she could ground him on one place. Now practically shoulder to shoulder, Y/N gently rested her hand on his chin. His eyes that gawked at her actions were forcefully beaming at the other side of the room as she restricted his movements, “I told you. If you move, I’ll make a scar on your face and it will not be a good mark for that future girl.”

Before he knew it, she was once again, pulling out another shard. This time, it was different. Her hand made place on the side of his unwounded jaw, making sure he had not flinched. It was like a breezy kiss of a windy day in Birmingham, the scent of the lavender flower swirled through his nostrils. A distraction at the incredibly close interaction. However, before she could pluck out another piece, he pursed his lip. A slip of a giggle rung into the air.

“What’re you laughing at? You big dork, stay still.” Finn mumbled an apology. Trying his best to transform into a serious man, Finn’s back shot straight up. Y/N pulled away, an irritated reaction wore on her face as he had just made her multiply her effort due to his height. It was better when he had his shoulder hunched forward, giving her an easier access to his unfortunate face. He noticed this and pressed his lips shut, attempting to not allow a laugh seep through the cracks of his lips. If it wasn’t for Y/N’s agile pull, she would’ve costed real damage.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m laughing.” Finn gave up, a few beads of tears fell down the side of his face as he began to go insane.

“You’ve gone mental,” The pair chuckle as Y/N clamped onto a rather large piece. Pondering if it was because he had laughed at nothing, which might’ve worn her patience off, the extraction of the massive glass compared to the rest was slightly more painful. When he had let out the annoying wince, she had let out a huff. “Don’t be such a baby, it’s just a pinch.”

His flickering eyes snapped towards her, “I am not a baby.”

“And I’m not a woman.”

“Plus, I think your nurse hands are getting rusty after those years.” With his eyes shut tight, he waited for her to inflict damage from his insult. The tweezers stood a hair’s breadth away from his skin. In an agonizing pace, he opened his eyes to look at her reaction. She stared at him with mouth gaped wide open in disbelief. She could not believe he had just insulted her fine work.

“Hey!” She smacked his arm, Finn let out a laugh to cover the pain. His fingers worked deep to massage the area of tremoring pain. “Fine, you do this by yourself, then.”

Hurling the tweezers onto his palm, she shot up from the couch to walk away. A part of her wanted him to try to clean himself up as she would wander around the room aimlessly. She wanted to hear him whine like the little boy he is. With his length fingers, it curled around her wrist in one go. The warm contact sparked the fire before she was tugged to land on his lap. With a huff, she stared at him with eyes of an owl. Once she realized how incredibly close the distance between them was, she resisted. Trying to tug away from his intense grip, keyword- trying, his grasp held a strong force to keep her in place but not too immense to kiss bruises on her skin. The racing of her heart pumping sang a song in her ears. The sudden close proximity had left in her in a state of shock. How does she respond?

“I won’t be able to do it,” Finn mumbled, his arms resting on her lap before it slithered around her waist. “You do it.” His fingers bloomed open, the kissing of the chilly metal was heated with the warm air. In an antagonizing slow pace, Finn took his time to curl open her fingers so he could squeeze in the tweezer in her grip. Leaning back into the couch, he clenched his jaw before readying himself to go through the torture once again. 

Part 2 | Part 3

[jeonqukie]

SOMEBODY ELSE / 02 ( ALT ).

SYNOPSIS / After years of working up the courage to confess his feelings for you, Min Yoongi decides to give up and move on from the unrequited position he has put himself in. However, when you discover his veiled attraction towards you, you dwell on what could have been. You find yourself ready to reciprocate the same sentiment for him, only you’re too late when he reveals he has already found someone else. Consequently, you’re lured into a series of meaningless and warped encounters from the one person you swore to avoid.

FEATURING / Min Yoongi; brief appearances by Kim Seokjin, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, and Jeon Jungkook.

GENRES / Angst, romance, mature, friends with benefits, and unrequited love.

WARNINGS / This chapter contains alcohol consumption, graphic language, mentions of sexual activity, mentions and acts of infidelity, and other mature themes.

WORD COUNT / 4.2k.

TABLE OF CONTENTS / To be redirected and get the latest on the story, click on the table of contents.

NOTES / Because part 3 of somebody else will take some time to write, I decided to post one of the original ideas I had thought of for part 2. I still really like this version a lot, but I feel like I wasn’t going to go the direction I wanted to. So please enjoy this alternate version while I still plot out part 3! In another world, this is what I had planned out for this love triangle. Feedback is always appreciate. Big reminder that I am forever grateful that you took your time to read this! Thank you very much for taking your time to read this. (つ≧▽≦)つ

© All rights reserved to jeonqukie. All or portions of my work may not be reproduced, distributed, modified, or used in any way whatsoever without my permission.

“Ladies, gentlemen, and our non-binary friends,” All it took was one step inside of Ernie’s newly renovated bar to hear the particularly flamboyant introduction from the opposite side of the room. “We are pleased to announce the arrival of the new division head of advertising, YN.”

Your cheeks ignited at Seokjin’s grandiose greeting. The rest of the gang was evidently hammered from the boisterous cheers and praises. Nevertheless, it was nearly impossible to avoid the incessant stares from other bar attendees when your feet hastily walk towards the other side of the room.

“Ernie, another round of shots over here, please!” Michelle’s request could be heard from a mile away. You began to strip out of the beige blazer that matched your skirt off of your body only to reveal your white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up all the way to your elbows.

“I told you guys to get started with the drinks - not to get fucking hammered.”

“Sweetheart, the moment you gave us the approval, we couldn’t help ourselves.” You were seated in between Hoseok and Michelle, trying to make yourself comfortable inside the semi-circular booth. On the other end was Jimin and Seokjin who were awaiting patiently for the new round of drinks to appear on the table.

“Plus, it’s your fault for being late.”

“It’s not really my fault that I had to stay an hour back at the office. There were just a couple of paperwork I needed to complete.”

Could you imagine what your boss would have said if you refused to stay back at the office after you recently earned your promotion? It would have led to her doubting her decision to promote you. So you had no choice but to go along with the flow.

Frankly, it didn’t take long for you to earn your position. It may sound immodest of you to assume that, but you’ve only been working for a year and a half and you were already the division head in advertising. It’s funny how a year and a half ago, you were merely just an intern, fighting for a permanent position in the company.

The glasses of spirits soon arrive at your table, Hoseok captures one and placed the minuscule glass across from where you sat. “Alright, everybody, grab a shot because I shall propose a toast -“ But at the corner of your eye, your main focal point happened to be at the front door where he stood; dark mane and pale face when he enters the vicinity with the now familiar, Tiffany.

“Oh, shit, Yoongi and Tiffany are here! Okay, now, it’s a real party!” The sputtering slurs began erupting out of Seokjin’s mouth and all eyes immediately dart towards you.

You weren’t just a mere intern, struggling to find her place in the company a year and a half ago. You were just as lost and confused when it came to your own personal life. You vividly remember the morning Yoongi confronted you of your feelings - how you interrogated him of his true emotions with the both of you coming to the conclusion that there was no happy ending for the both of you.

The circle was in an awkward position for a while, unsure of whether you and him can be in the same room. But for the sake of everyone’s sanity, you were forced to make up with him. Well, you didn’t want to say you were forced to make up with him.

Your friends were too fed up to deal with the cumbersome conversations, so Hoseok and Seokjin had unwillingly bring you together to resolve the predicament you both found yourselves in.

To be honest, you missed him a lot. Persistently trying to avoid him for a good two months was draining, especially when he would be with Tiffany. You were quite surprised she hadn’t caught onto the dynamics of the clique after nearly being with Yoongi for months. You felt an ache in your chest every time she seemed to tag along with him. You even remembered the gut-wrenching moment when you overheard from Jimin that Yoongi manage to convince Tiffany to move in with him.

Suddenly, you found yourself back with Taehyung - in your eyes, he was a saving grace. He was constantly there to numb and alleviate you from the pain. You were always frustrated, absolutely depressed and sought for the comfort you yearned for. For some reason, you were okay every time - as Michelle would say, he’d fuck the sorrow out of your poor soul.

You recovered from the pain and your naive mind believed that you were immune to it.

You thought that everything was fine; you focused on work, focused on rekindling the same friendship with Yoongi and you even ignited a new one with Tiffany herself. She was genuinely sweet, caring, and selfless when it came to Yoongi. Soon enough, you were getting comfortable with the idea that, perhaps, the universe was right - maybe you and Yoongi were better off as friends.

Of course, that wasn’t the case.

Oh, how you were so wrong.

Just a month ago, you remembered how everybody gathered over to their apartment for a movie night and Yoongi made the announcement that he’s asked for Tiffany’s hand in marriage and she inevitably said yes. 

Who wouldn’t say no to someone like him?

Living your life so normally, thinking that things have gotten better was just the naivety coming to slap you right across the face.

The pang of agony was unbearable. You weren’t so sure how you survived the two hours in their apartment with their radiating, saccharine faces.

Not even Taehyung could save you from this one.

You recalled the moment you and Michelle arrived home - how you stampeded over to the bathroom when you began to regurgitate all of the nauseating pain at the pits of your stomach. You were no where near drunk - just utterly miserable.

The sting of your eyes came crawling back to your eyes when the large diamond ring shone right across your face. With Yoongi and Tiffany at the end of the table, Seokjin looked at you straight in the eye, awaiting for you to raise your shot glass once more.

“Earth to YN, I need you to have your glass raised up.” You apologized hastily and raised the glass hesitantly, blushing in embarrassment when everyone had managed to catch you in a state of otherworldliness. “As I was saying, a big fucking congratulations to YN.” It was conspicuous that Seokjin was absolutely inebriated and you savored his demeanor; he was so carefree and loose. “And, also, to our Yoongi who, in a month, will no longer be a fucking bachelor.”

Everyone raised their glass yet you remained… paralyzed.

The clinks of the glass against each other notified you to take the shot into your lips and you swallowed it, feeling the stinging burn coating your throat.

With your eyes pinched closed, you open your eyes only to see Yoongi directly at you. For a split second, he saw the slightest unravel of your guard. He could feel his own chest swell when he notices the way Michelle’s arms slither around your shoulders, whispering words of comfort into your ear before your lips unwontedly twitch onto a discomforting grin. Your eyes glistened underneath what little lighting the bar possessed and when both your eyes lock onto each other, he can see the light in your eyes losing its spark ever so slowly.

You made the announcement that you will be using the restroom and that you should be back with another order of drinks. Scooting your way out of the booth, Yoongi’s eyes follow to where you hastily amble towards the women’s restroom. He tried his best to ignore the way you felt about the situation. He knew that if he factored you in to every decision he made, he wouldn’t be able to progress his relationship with her.

However, when the words came slipping out of somebody else’s mouth that he would no longer be an emotionally available man, it dawned on him how soon everything seemed and he tries his best not to dwell on the fact that there was a slim possibility that he was regretting the decisions he made himself.The night was still relatively young. It was close to midnight, but your feet was growing painfully exhausted from being at the dance floor all night. In order to avoid the newly engaged couple, Michelle and Jimin were trying their best to aid you in distracting yourself from your pain and, hopefully, avoiding you from a really bad mistake.

In this case, they feared that you would drunkenly dial your unofficial bootycall.

But Taehyung has made it clear that it’s best if he strayed away from you… because there was only so much he can do to help you forget Yoongi. Every time he had the chance to see you, it gave him more confirmation that you were anything but over Yoongi. Despite his efforts of making you forget him, he realizes that you were utterly in love with somebody else and he can’t change a thing about it.

Michelle held your phone so close to her while Jimin spun you in circles all night. You yearned to have the phone back to your safety, in case your boss called you for an emergency, but they knew it was wise of them to keep it as far away from you. But they had their limits, too.

“That’s the last song, I’m beat.” Jimin surrenders in defeat which is quite surprising for someone like him. He had so much energy and he was usually the last one off of the dance floor. But you can see from corner of your booth how Tiffany nuzzled ever so lovingly onto Yoongi’s neck when they whisper to each other and your eyes dart back to Jimin who was ambling over towards the bar along with Michelle and you were left stranded in the middle of the floor awkwardly.

It wasn’t until you feel the warmth of somebody else’s body against yours. You spun around to meet eyes with a much taller male; his hair slightly parted with the ends just ending at the top of his brows. His hooded doe eyes stare right down at you with his naturally pink lips curling onto a flirtatious grin.

“H - hi,” You were breathless and taken aback by his handsome face when the song switches over to a much slower rhythm, introducing a romantic guitar at the background. “I - uh, I’m sorry. You must have me mistaken for somebody else.” However, he shakes his head when his large palm envelopes your wrist gently, urging you to slither his arms around his shoulders.

“I saw your friends abandon you and you looked… lonely, so I decided to come and save the day.” He chuckles darkly when you oblige to his request. The romantic guitar playing in the background is not helping you establishing personal space with the newfound stranger. But you weren’t necessarily protesting against it; it was just a little too forward for your liking especially when you couldn’t see your friends in sight. “Plus, you have some serious dance moves."

“Saving me won’t do anything.” It was a depressing thought and you were already biting back the tears that shimmered your eyes when you looked onto the stranger’s eyes. “There’s really no point in saving damaged goods.” You concluded your self-deprecating statements with a dark chuckle, cocking your head to the side to see just how he would react. “Thank you though; I learned from both of my friends who abandoned me. I think you should be dancing with them instead of me." He swipes his tongue across his mouth when he guides you to the rhythm of the song; hips grinding and swaying together, bodies getting closer and closer to each other.

“What’s your name?” He whispers ever so softly into your ear when his large hand is placed right at the small of your back, right above your ass.

“YN.” You answer him breathlessly. Oddly enough, you find yourself being so responsive to his touch - to his voice and to his requests. “I think it’s fair you give me yours?”

“Jungkook.” He sighs before looking you straight into your eyes. “Whoever hurt you,” he begins before his the palm of his hand comes to cup your cheek, thumb circling over the cheek. “… is a real fucking idiot.”

Your laugh travels so far through the room and Yoongi reactively searches for your location. He watches you nuzzle onto the warmth of the stranger’s palm, feeling the world move around you. You were reminded just how out of tune you were out of your normal self. The buzzed brain clearly did not function well when it came to making smart decisions which is why you found yourself caressing his cheek as well, only to have your thumb swiping against his bottom lip. Instinctively, Yoongi’s digits grip around Tiffany’s waist and she squeals, reminding him just how ticklish she was. But his eyes remained fixated on your dancing body, how close you seemed to be against another man.

“I see what you’re trying to do.” You begin your comment before you slowly peel yourself out of the much taller male. “You see this… girl and it’s so obvious she’s broken and it’s so easy to get a good fuck.” You sigh before your digits run themselves through your tousled mane. “You put on this spiel that you can make her feel good, but you can’t. You try to get her hopes up and we all know how this ends.”

His eyes transform into more melancholic ones and he shakes his head before he takes a safe step closer to your body. At the corner of your eye, you can sense the presence of your friends. Suddenly, you can feel several eyes on you, observing how you stood your ground. “You’re wrong, but if that’s how you truly feel, I won’t convince you otherwise."

Your perfectly sculpted brows knit together in confusion when you see him take another step closer towards you, but you remain frozen to the floors. From the booth, Yoongi can see your mouth moving; they were poutier than ever - the bottom sticked out so much when you spoke to the stranger across you. He watches the other male tower over you, caressing your soft cheeks and he fists his hand momentarily before he watches you nod to his statement.

Suddenly, Yoongi observes the way you step closer onto the other male’s body; how his arm wrapped around your waist while you had yours propped over his shoulder. It’s been a while since he felt the nauseating boil at the pit of his stomach; he was envious of the man who had you all to himself at the dance floor. His eyes never missed a second of you swaying your hips to the pattern of the romantic guitar in the background, the way the male lured you to press your smaller physique onto his.

When the song ends, Jungkook whispers something into your ear before he barely brushes his petals right above yours. It ghosted over your dry ones and it took every ounce of self-resistance for Jungkook to step away from you and you both bid your goodbyes only to watch the lust driven look on your face direct itself towards where Yoongi sat uncomfortably. Tiffany and Hoseok were having a conversation about cleaning supplies and he could careless about which bleach did the best job of ridding of stains. However, Yoongi, a newly engaged man, found himself standing up from the booth only to examine you from head to toe. He observes the way your chest rose up and down heavily, frustrated and anxious to have what should be hers.

His eyes doesn’t disconnect from yours and you can’t help but swipe your tongue over to wet your petals, tasting the dried alcohol off of your lips and a hint of his strawberry chapstick. He wasn’t aware how hot the entire vicinity seemed to be. In addition to that, there was a minor strain over at his ripped, skinny jeans. When he mentally curses to himself, you begin your exit out of the bar, desperate to breathe in the cool air to relieve you off your non-fulfillments. When the night’s breeze attack your body, the muffled noises from the bar notifies you that you’re absolutely and utterly alone. The cruel reality of the thought finally edged you to your breaking point and you found yourself leaning against the wall, hugging yourself in the process of sobbing. When the doors open once more, revealing that Yoongi had followed you outside, clearly concerned for your well-being.

“What are you doing out here?” You inquire before you begin wiping every single tear that came streaming down your cheeks.

“I’d like to ask you the same question, to be honest.”

“I just needed some fresh air.” You quip bitterly before you sniffle to yourself, swallowing hard when he examines your current state. Hair disheveled from dancing for a decent hour yet your outfit seemed to be well in tact. The white dress shirt still tucked beautifully onto the waist of your beige skirt and some black tights to complement the outfit. But your eyes were too broken to comprehend; they were red and absolutely shattered, yet they shimmered in the night light. When he sees fresh tears staining your cheeks, he desperately seeks to wipe them off of you.

“A month, huh?”

Yoongi’s digits remain frozen midair when he attempt to wipe the tears off of your stained cheeks. He swallows hard, knowing very well where the conversation is leading to. All he could do is nod his head once and drop the hand to his side while takes a few step back, reminding himself that he cannot offer the same comfort to you anymore.

“Well, congratulations, Yoongs. I always thought Michelle would be the first one to get married - even Hoseok or something.” Yoongi was having a difficult time comprehending how you were still joking despite the pain he had put you through.

“Stop the bullshit, YN. I know you’re not okay with this.”

The uneasiness of his voice had your heart racing and your eyes disconnected from his; not wanting to read his mind - or try to read his mind. With pursed lips, the silence gave you a moment to remember everything - all of the pain he has put you through. Alcohol was running through both of your veins and you feel your hands ball into fists.

“But there’s nothing I can do about it.”

“From what I heard you’ve been fucking Taehyung.” He scoffs and, suddenly, you were no longer sad.

“So?”

“Well, how’s that working out for you, YN? How is fucking your ex-boyfriend going to make things any better between you and I?” You clenched your jaw and you swallowed hard, trying to understand why he was so frustrated with you. “And then you’re… just… sleeping with random strangers at the club now?”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, c’mon, Hoseok tells me everything.”

“No - no! You have no right to discuss this with me. You have no right to judge me.” You seethed, stepping closer to his frame. “Just because you’re doing so much better at moving on from whatever the fuck we had, you have no right to judge the way I’m trying to cope with everything when this is all your fault.”

He scoffs bitterly and you pace yourself away from him, running your digits through your mane, wanting to rid of all frustrations out of your body immediately.

“I - I put my feelings to the side! I’ve withstand every single thing concerning you and Tiffany. For fuck’s sake, Yoongi, I even befriended her for your sake…. just to get back to the way things were.” The contrast of the cold breeze on your skin and the hot tears streaming down your cheeks earned an eruption of goosebumps through your skin. Your teeth shattered when you spoke and you swallowed the filter you once possessed. You were mindlessly speaking out loud at this point.

“And, for a while, I thought everything was okay. I’ve accepted that maybe this can work out - that i can move on from you because… I was so fucking happy to see you happy even if it wasn’t with me.”

You chuckled to yourself, reminiscing back to your naivety.

“Then you proposed and that’s when I knew I’m… not even fucking close to getting over you.” His eyes never leave yours and you can see how hard he was gritting his teeth because of how prominent his jaw was. He held his breath as he studies your tired features. The bags underneath your eyes stood out from your skin. Eyes blood shot from your tears and the alcohol - from the pain.

“I don’t know how you did it though. You’ve seen me with Taehyung all those months and you never said a single thing about it.” You started and he watches how your eyes are just searching for the right answer as if you were begging him to give you the answer. “You never did a single thing about it.”

It was his turn to get frustrated with your words. He opens his mouth expecting to raise his voice on you, but with the way you were sobbing, he chooses to calm himself further.

“There was nothing I can do, YN. You were with somebody else.”

“And look how the tables have turned.” You sighed, nibbling onto the bottom of your lip. Tears stopped trailing down your cheeks and you took deep breaths to calm your beating heart. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I’m not over you, Yoongi.” Your voice is small… so small that you feel yourself shrink in size when you amble yourself closer to him. “We both… had the chance to be together, but… we just - we didn’t happen.”

Silence over takes the conversation once more.

“Do you ever think of what could have happened?”

His query catches you off guard and your eyes meet his and you nod once. You inhale deeply, smelling his cologne and the alcohol exuding from his skin. “All the time it’s fucking unhealthy.” You were surprised to hear him chuckle softly to himself and you fold your arms, preventing yourself from doing something you may regret.

“I keep thinking what it would be like to hold your hand.” At the tip of your fingers, you feel the itch desperate to feel the searing heat of his skin against yours. “Every time you whisper something to her, I just… think what it would feel like to have your lips brush up against my ears.” Your cheeks burned when you confess your hidden emotions to him. “I see the way you kiss her; you have your hand caressing her cheek, fingers crawling to the back of her neck and you… sort of cradle her head while you just… kiss her and…”

All sorts of breathing stops when a hot palm frustratingly caresses your cheek, crawling gracelessly across the back of your neck to force your head to tilt towards the towering male. A pair of soft petals crash onto your own when he inevitably caves in and hungrily captures your bottom lip. You responded immediately to his actions, arms slithering around his neck when he firmly pushes you to cold wall, digits tugging at the roots of your hair when his tongue intrudes itself inside your mouth. You savored the heat of his tongue inside your mouth, so you feel your tongue collide against his. He tastes of mint and whiskey and you were addicted to the taste of his mouth.

When the sounds of exiting clientele leaves the bar, you are alerted that this was… wrong.

Yoongi was kissing you.

Yoongi is with Tiffany. You keep chanting it in your head and it took every ounce of willpower for your palms to unfold and push his strong physique off of yours, but you remain frozen underneath his touch.

Instead, he stops. He releases you slowly, lips leaving yourself gently. His hands, however, remain glued to your stained cheeks and he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do that.”

“We can’t do that anymore.”

You separate your heated bodies away from each other, experiencing a multitude of emotions all at once. There was a satisfaction deep within you at the realization that you were not the only one suffering from the struggle to get over somebody else.

Who knew one single kiss from him was all it took to realize that you wanted more?

“I — we should forget that ever happened.” You licked your lips once more, the guilt clearly painted across your visage and you tried your hardest not to break down when Yoongi exhales out slowly and realizes the immorality of your actions.

He stays absolutely quiet with his lips parted.

“Yoongi, say something. I’m doing this for your sake.” You try to shake him back to reality, worried he might make a choice he sincerely regrets. “Yoongi, you’re engaged… to Tiffany. You’re marrying Tiffany. Please go back inside and be with her.”

He nods his head once and shakes his head, realizing the repercussions of his actions. “We — we can’t say anything.”

“I won’t say anything.”

He purses his lips into a thin line, deciding to amble back to the entrance of the bar.

“YN,” He starts before he opens the door. “I — I’m sorry."

[solsarin]

how many percent of freshwater is drinkable

how many percent of freshwater is drinkable

Hello dear friends, thank you for choosing us. In this post on the solsarin site, we will talk about “ how many percent of freshwater is drinkable“. Stay with us. Thank you for your choice.

What Percentage of the Earth’s Water Is Drinkable?

It is a common fact that the world is covered in water. In fact, continents are like big islands in expansive oceans. About 75% of the earth is covered in water. There is no shortage of water on earth. The earth boasts of some of the largest water bodies including the oceans, lakes, and rivers that stretch across approximately two-thirds of its surface. However, despite the fact that three-quarters of the Earth are made up of water, less than 3% of the water is fresh, non-saline water. Furthermore, of the existing fresh water, not all of it is available for human consumption.

How Much Freshwater is There on Earth?

As stated above, about 2.5% of the Earth’s water is freshwater. Of the fresh water available on earth, only 31% is accessible for use. About 69% of the fresh water is in form of ice cap and glacier in places like the Antarctic and Greenland ice sheet, further reducing the quantity of the available drinking water. So, if only 31% of the fresh water is available for drinking, this means 31% of 2.5%=0.00775, which equates to less than 1%. Therefore, less than 1% of the earth’s water is drinkable. In some areas, the glacier often melts in summer to provide additional drinking water. However, the amount of water from glacier melt is not sufficient to increase the available fresh water to above 1%.

Where is Available Freshwater Stored?

Almost all the available freshwater (excluding glacier) is groundwater. The groundwater emerges and feeds the streams and saturated wetlands. It acts as a reservoir that can also be tapped for various uses including in agriculture and industries. Groundwater provides approximately 40% of the drinking water.

Another important source of drinking water is the surface freshwater. The surface water is held in lakes, rivers, dams, and streams. Although rivers and dams are critical for water supply, they contain only 1% of the freshwater. About 0.001% of the freshwater is contained in the form of atmospheric vapor, small amount considering its important function in weather. However, the atmospheric waters recycle several times in a year between the atmosphere and the earth’s surface, leading to rains and snows. The rains and snow are crucial in replenishing the surface water

How Many People Do Not Have Access to Clean Drinking Water?

Of the less than 1% of the available water for drinking, most of the third world countries do not have the needed resource to provide safe and clean drinkable water to its people. According to 2008 WHO report on Drinkable Water and Sanitation, about 885 million people, translating to an eighth of the world’s population, have no access to safe water. About 3.6 million people die annually from diseases resulting from unsafe drinking water.

What is the Future of Fresh Drinking Water?

Although surface water is an important source of drinkable water, surface water depends on several variable precipitation patterns, which makes it unreliable. Protecting and managing the underground and surface water is an essential task in ensuring availability of drinkable water. No one can create more water. But, by managing the water sources and distribution systems, people maximize the available water and make good use out of every drop.

Where is the Earth’s Water?

There is no shortage of water on Earth. Most of our planet is covered by water, but very little of that water is available for humans to drink.

Our “blue planet” is dominated by oceans that stretch across some two-thirds of its surface. These massive bodies of saltwater hold almost all the water on Earth.

Less than three percent of the planet’s water exists as freshwater—and not all of it is accessible for human use. These resources are mostly inaccessible for human use, though glacial meltwater is an important resource in some regions.

Earth’s freshwater resource

Almost all of the rest of Earth’s freshwater resource is groundwater. This subterranean water emerges at the surface to feed streams and saturate wetlands. Groundwater provides a critical reservoir that can be tapped for agricultural, industrial, and environmental uses as well as for drinking water supply. Today, groundwater provides an estimated 25 to 40 percent of all Earth’s drinking water. Some of the planet’s groundwater resources were created during ancient climates and are considered non-renewable water sources.

A minuscule percentage of Earth’s water

A minuscule percentage of Earth’s water is in the form of surface freshwater—even though most people get their daily drinking water from rivers or lakes. Rivers and streams, though critically important for water supply, contain perhaps one percent of this freshwater—a fraction of the amount found in lakes and reservoirs.

At any given time only about 0.001 percent of Earth’s water is in the form of atmospheric vapor—a surprisingly small number given its crucial role in weather. However, this water recycles many times per year between the earth’s surface and the atmosphere, a process that we experience as rain or snow.

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Water

Water is an inorganic, transparent, tasteless, odorless, and nearly colorless chemical substance, which is the main constituent of Earth’s hydrosphere and the fluids of all known living organisms (in which it acts as a solvent[1]). It is vital for all known forms of life, even though it provides no calories or organic nutrients. Its chemical formula is H2O, meaning that each of its molecules contains one oxygen and two hydrogen atoms, connected by covalent bonds. Two hydrogen atoms are attached to one oxygen atom at an angle of 104.45°.[2]

“Water” is the name of the liquid state of H2O at standard conditions for temperature and pressure. It forms precipitation in the form of rain and aerosols in the form of fog. Clouds consist of suspended droplets of water and ice, its solid state. When finely divided, crystalline ice may precipitate in the form of snow. The gaseous state of water is steam or water vapor.

Water covers 71% of the Earth’s surface

Water covers 71% of the Earth’s surface, mostly in seas and oceans.[3] Small portions of water occur as groundwater (1.7%), in the glaciers and the ice caps of Antarctica and Greenland (1.7%), and in the air as vapor, clouds (consisting of ice and liquid water suspended in air), and precipitation (0.001%).[4][5] Water moves continually through the water cycle of evaporation, transpiration (evapotranspiration), condensation, precipitation, and runoff, usually reaching the sea.

Water plays an important role in the world economy. Approximately 70% of the freshwater used by humans goes to agriculture.[6] Fishing in salt and fresh water bodies is a major source of food for many parts of the worldWater, ice and snow are also central to many sports and other forms of entertainment, such as swimming, pleasure boating, boat racing, surfing, sport fishing, diving, ice skating and skiing.

Etymology

The word water comes from Old English wæter, from Proto-Germanic *watar (source also of Old Saxon watar, Old Frisian wetir, Dutch water, Old High German wazzar, German Wasser, vatn, Gothic 𐍅𐌰𐍄𐍉 (wato), from Proto-Indo-European *wod-or, suffixed form of root *wed- (“water”; “wet”).[7] Also cognate, through the Indo-European root, with Greek ύδωρ (ýdor), Russian вода́ (vodá), Irish uisce, and Albanian ujë.

resource: wikipedia

[watching-pictures-move]

Movie Review | Weekend (Godard, 1967)

This review contains spoilers.

When I went on a bit of Godard jag a few years ago, what really struck me was how much fun they were to unpack. I was not nearly learned enough to grasp all the allusions being lobbed at me, but even when I wasn’t entirely keen on a film (as was the case with 2 or 3 Things I Know About Her), there were always a few things going on formally that made it compulsively watchable. His work in the ‘60s in particular benefits from being seen in context given their tremendous influence (Godard can make a more credible claim than most to having changed the medium), but that might downplay how dynamic it is, as if the films are evolving before our very eyes. In that sense, Weekend might be his most thrilling. It’s a story of an amoral bourgeois couple going to collect an inheritance that escalates into the collapse of modern society and, as the closing titles proclaim, the end of cinema. It’s equal parts absurd, abrasive and horrifying, which made this rewatch feel singularly resonant in the closing days of a particularly absurd, horrifying and abrasive chapter of our current moment.

Godard announces his politics early on. The couple are secretly entertaining killing each other off and only conspiring to kill the wife’s mother to maximize their respective shares of the inheritance. They look over their balcony nonchalantly as a vicious fight breaks out over a fender bender. Upper-middle-class apathy is attacked repeatedly throughout the film. The couple get in a fight over another automotive mishap with a family who attack them with a shotgun and a tennis racket. Even objects of leisure are weaponized. The couple makes their way through a countryside littered with wrecked cars, that quintessential consumerist symbol seen repeatedly in almost uniform states of destruction. A bourgeois girl (Juliet Berto, who played a solipsistic, performative radical in La Chinoise) gets in a scuffle with a farmer after her car crashes into his tractor, shouting antisemitic slurs and demeaning him for his socioeconomic status, until the two abruptly decide to bond over class lines. It’s a succinct expression of the glibness and limits of political cinema, a theme Godard explored previously in La Chinoise and later in Tout Va Bien. The reds, whites and blues of the film’s colour palette lend to this political charge, bringing to mind the flags of both France and America. The film is shot in startlingly rich colours, which makes the bizarre proceedings all the more jarring.

The protagonists’ interactions with black and Arab immigrants highlight the absurdities of global geopolitics, with a minuscule morsel of bread representing the frugality of America’s economic contributions to African countries and a kiss followed by a slap representing the hard diplomatic bargain presented to Arab nations. Godard tried earlier to make a moving, humanist film about the Algerian War with Le Petit Soldat and had it suppressed; the bluntness here plays in part like an admission his earlier strategy had failed. These characters launch into a speech about revolutionary movements, which is simultaneously tryingly inane and sympathetically delivered, and pretty soon a group of cannibalistic guerillas come into the picture, at once trying to navigate, instigate and make order of the societal collapse around them. This could very well have been merely didactic, but Godard’s handling of these elements is consistently funny and startling. Scuffles look to be play-acted until the slide into horrific violence, only to slide back into comedy (or vice versa). The film’s most famous scene is a traffic jam which extends for a maddening amount of time while the camera pans past a number of amusing or ridiculous sights (motorists tossing balls to each other or having picnics, trucks carrying animals) only for the scene to end with the sight of a gruesome accident. Blood is splattered all over the road while a policeman motions for the drivers to advance one at a time, a grim punchline about the inconveniences of modern life, the resulting dehumanization and the futility of order in the face of tragedy.

True to the film’s abrasiveness, the characters learn no lessons throughout all this. Every horrifying or remarkable sight they immediately determine to be an inconvenience to be resolved as callously as possible. Each time they come across a car wreck they try to pick the clothes off the dead. The closest they come to an emotional reaction is when the wife loses her Hermes handbag in a flaming car. Near the end, a character’s life slowly slips away, yet Godard mocks any sentiment that might be felt with a parody of his own jump-cut technique. In another famous scene, the camera does two full rotations as a character plays piano in an attempt to bring culture to the sticks. The camera reverses its rotation and for a moment we think the protagonists might have been moved by the music, yet pretty soon it becomes clear that wasn’t the case. The film hints at their inner lives when the husband listens to the wife graphically describe a menage-a-trois with her lovers. It’s hard not to think of Godard’s relationship with Anna Karina (who I suspect wasn’t cast not just for personal reasons but also because he didn’t want the viewer to identify too strongly with the characters) and there is a certain boldness here in how unabashedly ugly and kinky the scene is (if cinema is ending, you might as well let it all hang out). Yet with the bizarre denouement (a sex act involving groceries, an inconclusive answer to whether the events described actually happened), the ominous music and the fact that Godard lifted it from George Bataille’s Story of the Eye (which, full disclosure, I have not read), it becomes a joke on that very same concept. The characters do evolve in one sense, with the heroine being forced to join a radical group that goes about shooting up or preying on the countryside and, in the final shot, contentedly eating her husband. There are a few ideas here, none of them comforting: that the bourgeois won’t be satisfied until their true savagery is unleashed, that real change is only possible through radical shock tactics, and whether or not that change is even desirable in the first place. Godard finds images bold enough to do them justice.

[danwhobrowses]

Ghost of Tsushima: Thoughts, Ideas and Hopes for DLC and Sequels

So I recently Platinum’d Ghost of Tsushima, I finished the story last week after 30 entries of livestreams which saw a whopping viewership of at most 2 people including one asshole that decided to spoil the end of Act II before I got there because I was playing stealthy and the way I wanted to play. But then wrapped up the Achievements on my own time. After a bit of stewing I’m ready to talk gush about it, including what I liked, a small bit of stuff I disliked and stuff I would suggest for future DLC and Sequel(s)

Spoilers for the Game, unlike that Commenter on my Stream I will not Spoil you on this, it is truly something you should experience for yourself

Because Good Lord, What A Game. Easily my Game of the Year, which compared to all the big hitter titles released is amazing, I mean Crash Bandicoot could still blow me away and Cyberpunk, Watch Dogs, Godfall, AC Valhalla and Miles Morales in waiting but probably not in this way. It is a magnificent game, one made with fantastic care and beauty, but before I go all out, let’s get the negatives out of the way 出る杭は打たれる。: A Flawed Masterpiece Ghost of Tsushima is brilliant but not without its faults. Most of these faults are admittedly minuscule and fixable, but until they are fixed they remain flaws. The biggest disappointment for me with the game was the lack of Japanese lip syncing. I loved the Japanese track, it also highly appealed to me to hear One Piece’s Roronoa Zoro voice Jin, but you have to kinda avoid looking at the mouths because it doesn’t match up, the models still speak in English and it’s a heavy shame that can kill some immersion. I guess they didn’t have the finances for it, because they could’ve done the lip syncs at the same time as they did the English ones if they had the Japanese track too. Combat for the most part was great, aiming could be wonky at times and Jin’s attacks didn’t carry on to a 1 foot ledge, but my main gripe with combat was the Camera getting in the way. It was adjustable most times, but other times it was not. Doing standoffs in the tall grass was night impossible at the later stages without the knees giving us a tell, one standoff I had was completely obstructed by a tree - I’m not making it up, a tree was literally all I saw for the Standoff. You lose so much health for failing a standoff too, bit harmful in later levels. The remaining issues are probably more personal, I didn’t quite like some of the sword kit designs - the ones with fluffy sleeves and I didn’t really like the armor dye you get for 100%ing the achievements, some weapons seemed to lose their luster in later parts of the game (particularly the half bow and Explosive Arrow, the former was only good for killing the angry doggos and the latter only killed Mongols if near another explosive to stack), that one Masako quest mission where you have to follow and pick off Straw Hats one by one without being seen, but will fail if you pull a triple assassination before the outpost where Masako’s lesbian lover was leading them all to so there’s more Straw Hats to blow my cover! (it wasn’t difficult it just annoyed me that it failed me for killing them all early) and the completionist in me hates that there are empty slots in the arrow and blowgun sections, but they can be worked in what I’ll talk about a bit later down the line, alongside some minor loose threads. Also you killed my horse man!

Your horse will accompany you on your entire journey - Ghost of Tsushima UI Message

Don’t you dare lie to me like that again Sucker Punch! Just because you’re named that doesn’t mean you can live up to it, we already lost one horse at the beach! Had to spend the final act with Not-Sora and Kaze with a hole in my heart never to be filled. But with that dealt with, let’s talk about some things I loved about the game

花は桜木人は武士 :  Living into a Legend With these games it is very easy to fall into the Elder Scrolls prototype of an array fun side quests and exploration and a so-so main story. Ghost of Tsushima though decided to have both the array of side quests and exploration and a great, complex and partly tragic story. There were many times I wanted to get back to the main story but held off because I wanted to be prepared. Long distances didn’t feel too bad to travel when the roads were uncharted either thanks to radiant battles, new settlements, vanity gear and side missions to ease you on the way. Additionally, the characters are for the most part fantastic, I cared for the safety of most of my allies and Jin himself, I wanted the Khan dead in a cerebral villain (albeit one whose final battle fell into cowardice) and I was open to the complexities of Ishikawa and Tomoe. I did feel that Shimura was being a tad ungrateful but I think it was intended for us to be frustrated to the edicts of the Samurai code - my frustration led me so much to deep dive to prove myself justified since the code was subjective and many agreed to aspects of ‘win no matter what’ and ‘do what protects the people the most’. Along with the main quest was paired with the character journeys of our allies as well as the Mythic tales which granted some extra strength and challenges to overcome in order to expand Jin’s arsenal. I particularly liked the observation and killing of leaders to learn new stances, as well as the widely acclaimed Stand-Off and the duels. The Arkhamverse fan in me did appreciate the focused hearing for stealth and that assassination speed could be upgraded. The idea of collecting vanity gear, armour dyes and equipment that are remains of the conflict showed that SP had completely immersed their plot into the world of Tsushima, with a great amount of exploration and nuances nodding to Japanese folklore And Tsushima is certainly stunning, it’s amazing that the PS4 can hold this much when we know how the PS5 is meant to be with ray tracing. The landscapes are beauteous which makes exploration and travel much more fulfilling, as well as the photo mode and the scenic builds to some of the major battles. What’s also wonderful is the calligraphy cutscenes for Mythic Tales and the loading screens, some wonderful artistry. Artistry which is added to by the brilliant uses of Haiku spots, Bamboo Strikes, Lighthouses, Shrines, Altars which you bow to, Fox dens where you can pet the Foxxos and even the Hot Springs for some ‘Man-Butt Action’, each positions that fit to Japanese media in soaking in a moment without killing any pace, especially added to the fact that each one contributes to a purpose. I will admit, I chose wrong at the end, I was thinking more of Shimura (said ungrateful uncle)’s honour rather than what Jin would what, feeling that Shimura would’ve done it himself had Jin not. But seeing the spare ending made me wish I chose that one and it’s something I’ll touch on later. But both endings are fitting and tragic for Jin’s journey from Samurai to the Ghost, being inspired by his allies and his connection to Yuna, there has been conflict throughout regarding the line of protection, honour and vengeance explored through other people’s tales that blend together perfectly with the main plot.  It is pretty political as well with the argument presented by Jin and Shimura’s conflict. Samurai while still romanticised were still shown to be bound to the blind loyalty towards the Shogun and Jito, you did not defy because it inspired others to think freely. Jin became a champion of a people by defending the people rather than listening to the jito - represented by the shogunate - and their stringent ideas that the Samurai who failed on the beach would be able to out-muster the force and brutality of the Mongol invasion regardless of the collateral and yet still call that honour. In the current climate in 2020, that hits a chord a little closer than expected. And the main story certainly has their stellar moments, the ups and downs really hit you - like killing my freaking horse! I had to lose Yuriko, Taka and Sora in a single playthrough. Losing Taka was inevitable, but still heartbreaking because of how much we struggled to save him and how much we want to still be Yuna’s friend, but then the highs just blow you away from the opening act, Ghost Stance, raiding Castle Kaneda and Shimura and the final raid at Port Izumi. Also did I mention that you can pet the Foxxos? Because that’s very important, also NPCs walk at your pace most of the time, which is a fantastic addition. I could probably go deeper but there’s other stuff I want to cover, but understand that the world and the story is wonderful and if you’re a fan of Assassin’s Creed, Arkhamverse and just Japanese culture in general this should tick your boxes. And hopefully there’s more to come.

石の上にも三年 : Strait to DLC The sad thing that happens when a good game is over is the void. Even if its days, having nothing left of the game to play is still a shame, and I know that Legends DLC is announced, but multiplayer involving fighting Oni as mythic legends isn’t my pace, I’m still not done with Jin and I feel like there are things we could still do. There are still 3 conflicts Jin’s story never resolved that could still be resolved now, each as multi-layered quests. The first is this ‘Ghost Army’ mentioned by the wagon guy in Omi, we are not leading this so who is? We may not be able to stop them but we could reduce the amount of people thinking we’re leading them to fight. The second is Daizo, if you don’t know that name it’s because the guy is never seen in the game, you only read about him in the Records of ‘Conversations with the Khan’. This Japanese Monk clearly has a thing for the late Khotun and he feels that the Ghost is being a dishonorable monster, this Khan lover is still at large and a confidant of Khotun, we could link with Norio in a quest to ensure he doesn’t rally or try to spread his appreciation of the Khan to others to try and complete Khotun’s work. The final conflict is one that eats me up: How did the Mongols Know About the Poison? Yuriko died showing me how to make the poisons, made more potent from her own herbal poisons which were crushed down, if she didn’t tell and I didn’t tell, who told? Because the Mongols drank the evidence and we could make a story of an Omi village traitor or even someone from Shimura’s camp leaking the info to the Khan to try and preserve ‘honour’. On top of these loose ends I’d very much like to see our allies again, even if they’re just at their home doing their own thing, as well as some other minor side characters like the Tadayori descendant Kaede, Flame Swordsman Bettomaru (who would’ve both been mighty useful with this Mongol affair beyond their sole missions) and the Yarikawa Archer Daikoku, I also would like to see confirmation on Jin and Yuna - there is clearly something there but that could be just me. What is also just me would be the suggestion of a shrine that can let you redo the Shimura decision, it’s not a too ‘out-there’ thing to do either considering we fought a Tengu. The shrine could be for Omoikane, Kami of wisdom and intelligence or Ame-no-Koyane, the ‘First in Charge of Divine Affairs’ which’d subject the player to a gauntlet of bosses past; Ryuzo, Kotun and Shimura, if the player goes against their initial decision, they will trade their ghost armour dye for the other and get a Charm of Pondering, if they stick to their guns they get both ghost armour dyes and a Charm of Strengthened Stance. In similar vein we could have a master Mythic Tale that stacks the duels of those tales into one for another special attack, weapon or armour. It’s also possible that we could add more duels, some remnants trying to avenge Khotun or even some Samurai sent by the Shogun in promise of becoming Jito. Likewise we can use this to complete the weapons set; for the Half Bow, take the Mongols’ poison arrows (which can be a reward for finding who leaked the poison to them) which can just eat at lesser enemies’ health and take a chunk of stronger enemies’ health before resolving out of it, as well as a sticky arrow that could slow enemies or weaken their armour, or a perfume arrow that can mess with the falcons and angry doggo’s senses. For the Long Bow we could have...okay I’m drawing a blank here but I’m not meant to do all the work XD For the Blowgun at least you could have a Blinding Dart to aid in stealth and a Panic Dart to increase chances of Terrify. We could even have a few more upgrades to our ghost weapons and stance combats, even increase the amount of kills Ghost Stance can yield. In addition to more Fox Dens, Shrines, maybe new resources to bolster upgrades, Sword Kits, Haikus, Banners, Flute Songs, dyes and so on. But I know what you’re thinking, we can’t put that all in Tsushima? We’ve covered the entire island and it’s unlikely that SP would make a fictitious island. And to that I say, I have that covered. In the Tsushima Strait between the island and the mainland there is Iki Island, part of the same prefecture and equally ravaged by the Mongols during the invasion, it’s also the base of pirates which can offer a stop point for a Tomoe reunion or simply travel via Umugi Cove. A small bit of expansion wouldn’t hurt, as long as Iki isn’t planned for something else that is.

能ある鷹は爪を隠す : Hopes for a Sequel Now part of me would be content if this was a one and done, the game shines perfectly on its own. But I would not turn one down. Though many would feel that Jin’s journey is done (I even heard a suggestion of Tomoe, I could see that but not right now, maybe for a third) but not me, there’s still a few glaring issues at hand. For one, the Shogun now wants you dead, new clans are moving in on you and there will probably be a new Jito regardless of the ending choice because of Shimura’s failure, Adachi will also need to look at another clan taking its land. There’s also the vacuum left behind by the clans’ subsidiaries; Nagao particularly but also Adachi’s rival clan Kikuchi, there’s easily possibilities to use canon Sō, Abiru, Shōni and Imagawa, there’s also room for Kikuchi Takefusa, who survived both Mongol invasions  . A sequel could offer some clan territorial tensions in that regard as the people of Tsushima side with the Ghost over the mainland. That conflict is one we have touched on in the end of the first, Jin has fought for his country’s safety so how will he act when his country wants him dead? The first was a story of sacrifice perhaps the next can be a story of maintaining his legend, inspiring the mainland Samurai and even redeeming himself in the eyes of the non-Tsushima natives. It’s also worth remembering that Komoda was the beginning of the invasion, and there was a second invasion 6 years later where Tsushima was attacked once more, the death of non-canon Khotun could spark other higher ups of Kublai’s ranks to avenge or clean up for Khotun, Kublai also had counsel from different nations to understand his enemy so we could have an even more vicious and cerebral enemy be made, or even a group of enemies led by advisors like Liu Kan or Yao Shu, maybe even Marco Polo if we move the time after the first invasion. In terms of gameplay we could also see Jin expand from Tsushima to Iki and maybe some more naval warfare, growing in his equipment (like Caltrops, Kusari-Fundo and Suntetsu) and maybe even his weapon, an Ono, Jitte or a Naginata to rotate with his not-yet-made Katana to combat with Samurai or the army of a Mongol threat, maybe even use the Bo-Hiya for ranged fire archery learned from the Hwacha. And like the Mass Effect games (or Dragon Ball Xenoverse if you wanna pick a franchise that didn’t end in a bitter aftertaste) you could have the option to transfer over some data from the PS4 save to the next one, which’d inevitably be on PS5 at the least - also don’t be surprised if this gets a PS5 remaster too, especially if it does win Game of the Year. What I suggested for DLC could be used here too, if there is a sequel with Jin I really, really hope that SP don’t opt for the route of killing Jin (or Yuna) off for effect, I was nervous about the current game ending with Hara Kiri and I’d rather not have that or a downer of a death for the legendary Ghost (I am a happy endings guy after all). An alternative route to go (other than following Tomoe to the mainland to rip off the Ghost) is to work backwards, call it ‘Ghosts of Tsushima’ working towards a story of a more ancient time, where a thief could become a samurai clan. A clan Sakai or Shimura origin would sell in that way too and avoid the idea that we have to start again from zero but still have the more ‘dishonorable’ stealth tactics.

義は険しい山よりも重く、死は大鳥の羽よりも軽い : Conclusion In the end, this game was worth the wait, worth the delays and worth the price tag. I feel like this will be one of the games I’ll fondly remember when thinking of the PS4, which has truly had a stellar library of awesome games like Spider-Man, God of War, the Crash, Ratchet & Clank and Spyro Remasters, DMCV, Jedi: Fallen Order and more. This truly ticked the boxes for the anime nerd within me and the history buff, even the Haikus spurred the poet in me a little too. If anyone hasn’t played this game, they should, and I hope that Sucker Punch realises that people like me want to see more. If it stands alone so be it, but I’m not ready to leave Jin or Tsushima just yet. いってらっしゃい

[shoury01]

PERSONALITY TRANSFORMATIONS: MYTHS ON ALTERING PERSONALITY TYPES

We tend to think that we are who we are and there is not much we can do about that. But the fact is, we choose our personality and who we are. Our personality is shaped by the choices we make over time. One of the most frequent questions in personal development probably is “Can I change my personality type?” According to most personality type theories, the person’s type is inborn and does not change. However, people can develop traits and habits that differ or even directly contradict the description of their type.

An example may help us understand better. Suppose lights in the room suddenly go off and we are in complete darkness. We may be able to navigate our way to the door, but which of our senses will come into play? Touch? Hearing? Smell? It would be anything but vision, our preferred sense. As soon as the lights come back on, we will switch back to using vision again as it makes it much easier to navigate around the room.

The way our personality works is quite identical. The environment we are in shapes our personality in a certain way, forcing us to develop traits and habits that might be foreign to our type. For instance, if we are naturally casual and spontaneous, but our work schedule is very structured and our manager is obsessive about schedules, our preferences are likely to change. However, we will probably switch back as soon as we leave that job. The same rule applies to other traits as well.

Here it is important to consider that sociability is often confused with extraversion, just like shyness is confused with introversion – this is a common oversight when it comes to deliberating personality types. While extraverted people naturally find it easier to talk to other people (they gain energy when they do this), there are many shy or solitary people among them. Conversely, introverted types lose energy when they communicate with others, but you would be able to find many eloquent individuals in that group.

Does personality stay the same from birth for the rest of your life, or can it be changed? For decades personality was considered as unmalleable as concrete – who we were at age 15 is who we would be at age 75. But within the last 20 or so years, as cognitive and behavioral sciences have evolved, we have come to see personality as at least marginally changeable, and possibly much more so. While certain personality elements remain stable over time, others change in distinct ways.  In other words, personality is both relatively stable and changeable, and the degree of change is specific to each person. As to what influences personality stability or malleability, both genetics and environmental factors play lead roles.

The relatively new wrinkle in this understanding is epigenetic influence, in which genes for certain factors may be “switched on” by environmental influences. What this means is that when it comes to personality change, we should not compare ourselves to others.  Our especially likable and gregarious friend in middle school is still probably going to be more likable and gregarious than most people we know in mid-life. What matters is how much we have changed – and that is very much a person-specific evaluation.

Personality tests can be part of the problem. They are like a frame in a movie—just a part of the story of our life. They tell us where we are and, in that way, they are very valuable. Personality tests are self-reported. Our view of ourselves is constantly changing based on our current focus, context, and emotions.  Another aspect to consider is that anyone who has ever done something great with their life has had to transform themselves from who they are to who they became. They had to act accordingly beyond their current personality and circumstances to eventually do what they did and become who they became.

In this aspect, some fallacies (untruths) that limit our growth and potential are:

Fallacy #1: Personality Can Be Categorized into “Types”.

This states that the way we react to life is just “who we are,” and we should accept it, and not try to change it, and we could not if we tried. Even if those traits are limitations, there is nothing we can do about it.

There are no personality types that lock us into a way of being. These labels we take on tend to excuse us from taking personal responsibility for the behavioral outcomes we experience. We can shape our personalities to serve our goals. Our personality should come from our goals. Our goals should not come from our personality.

Fallacy #2: Personality Is Innate and Fixed

Our personalities change over time. Who do we want to be in the future is more important than who you are now, and should actually inform who we are now. Our intended future self can direct our current identity and personality far more than our former self can. We can use our future self as the filter for developing our personality in the present. Our future self can be evolved and different from our current self. Successful people start with a vision of their future self and use it as the filter for everything they do.

Fallacy #3: Personality Comes from Our Past

The idea that we are defined by our past or that the past is the best predictor of our future is true, but not because we cannot change. We simply have not for another reason.

Four reasons that keep people stuck in their past may be:

a)      They continue to be defined by past traumas that have not been reframed.

b)      They have an identity narrative based on the past, not the future.

c)      Their subconscious keeps them consistent with their former self and emotions.

d)      They have an environment supporting their current rather than their future identity.

Past events can inform and change our present and future because we are learning from them. If not, we short-change our future. How we describe, interpret, and identify with our past has far more to do with where we are, here and now, than it has to do with our actual past.

Quote- “Anyone who isn’t embarrassed by who they were twelve months ago isn’t learning enough.”(Source: Alain de Botton)

Fallacy #4: Personality Must Be Discovered

Our personality, like our passion, is created by us and not discovered. It is designed. It is a by-product of the decisions we make. What we fail to understand sometimes is that inspiration follows action, not the other way around. Unless and until we take action, our confidence and imagination will remain low. We need to decide what we want and begin moving forward. With progress—even minuscule progress—our clarity and confidence will increase, opening the door for greater flexibility and change.

Fallacy #5: Personality Is Our True and “Authentic” Self

Our “authentic self” is a moving target, especially if we are of the kind to explore possibilities and are growing. To define ourselves with a fixed, authentic self is self-limiting and rigid. It lacks imagination and a growth mindset. Our authentic self is what we most believe in and who we aspire to be. Moreover, our authentic self is going to change. Being authentic is about being honest, and being honest is about facing the truth, not justifying our limitations.

The Gap and the Gain

When we are in the gap, we cannot enjoy or comprehend the benefits in our life. All we are focused on is why something was not how we thought it should have been. For instance, we might live in a great house. But if we are in the gap, then all we might see is what is wrong with our house. We may have an amazing partner but only see what we believe to be wrong or missing in them.

As we get older, we tend not to put ourselves into new contexts, so our personality becomes predictable. We get into our comfort zones. We see consistency in everyday life because of the power of the situation. Putting ourselves in new environments, around new people, and taking on new roles is one of the quickest ways to change our personality, for better or worse.

To conclude, our basic personality type cannot change – however, we can change the aspects of your personality that we are unhappy with. By doing this we will strengthen our shadow traits and become a more well-rounded individual, even though our dominant traits will still remain the same. Such a change could be triggered by either the environment we are in or our own will – to each his own.

**Source Credits:

Parts adapted from The Book:- Personality Isn't Permanent By Benjamin Hardy

Content Curated By: Dr Shoury Kuttappa.