#and inadvertently learns Light Body technique

[snackugaki]

Have I finally let go of that one horse stance joke my brain farted out six years ago?

hahahahaahhha ✨NO✨

[deadhands69]

cursing each other over and over again [2/3]

MDNI

Super fluffy, mildly angsty but it gets smutty in the next one.

Toge Inumaki x cursed speech reader (not quite the same as his)

Warnings/content/etc: Toge Inumaki x reader, fem-bodied/no pronouns, unestablished relationship, swearing, light violence (slapping), kissing, slightly suggestive conversation, mentions of dub con, cursed speech use.

AU: Jujutsu University, all characters aged up.

part 1 - this is part 2 - part 3

Text key: 🖤 You 🤍 Toge

Even after clearing things up with Toge, you still felt weird about going to class in the morning. Sure, you talked things through with him but didn’t know what to expect from everyone else.

In addition to this, you're exhausted. You spent most of the night laying in bed regretting a chunk of the texts you’d sent him instead of sleeping. You particularly regret telling your crush you have no game and can’t even manage to talk to him. How embarassing is that?

He seemed to understand though. He has to, right? Dating with cursed speech of any kind isn’t easy. You can’t just walk up and strike up a conversation with someone you like. There’s also the weird dynamic shift when they realize you can control their actions. When you inadvertently force them to kiss you and you’re awkwardly trying to get out of it, knowing it’s not what they want, traumatizing you both in the process. Or worse, you could accidentally hurt them. That’s probably even worse for him. Maybe he gets it?

Anyways, what does two cursed speech users dating look like, you’d be cursing each other back and forth constantly. He probably doesn’t want that.

Stopping yourself, you can’t think about this all day.

On the walk across campus, you started trying some breathing exercises Gojo gave you when you first arrived. In addition to the usual homework, he also tasked you with learning to control your emotions. Fair. So far, you’ve found it easier some times than others. This morning wasn’t too bad until, in your distraction, you collided with Toge where two sidewalks intersect.

He says “kelp”, his eyes smiling. You wave and smile back.

Your heart is racing, but at least it’s no weirder than when you first met him. You walk together silently until you reach the classroom.

Immediately, Panda high-fives him as Maki smacks him in the back of the head. You take your seat as she continues to berate him. Yuta sits next to you asking about your evening. It would be nice, but you can tell he’s just pushing to see how things went with his friend. He moves seats as soon as Inumaki approaches.

Just before class is scheduled to start (okay, you have an extra five minutes every day because Gojo is consistently at least five minutes late) your phone buzzes.

🤍 [sorry if that was weird for you]

🤍 [i actually didn’t tell anyone we hung out]

🤍 [maki told the gc you left my room at midnight after i left everyone on read]

You look up to see Toge waiting to see how you'll react. 

🖤 [haha i mean it's fine]

🖤 [technically that’s true]

🖤 [but]

🖤 [there’s a solid implication there]

🖤 [at least rumor me is getting laid]

You look at him rolling your eyes to make it clear that was sarcasm, you’d correct people later. He laughs.

The rest of the week passes quickly. Lots of homework to catch up on and even more to learn. Wednesday, you got to go on a mission with Maki. Who, you are pleased to learn, is a lot more caring than she lets on. The two of you were able to take out a few grade 2 curses together fairly quickly. It felt great being able to use your technique for more than destruction. After, you got sushi and talked for a while. You talked about jujutsu sorcery, life, pretty much everything. Toge came up once but since that was nearly all anyone in your class had asked you about since you arrived, she didn’t drag the subject out.

By the time Friday arrives, you realize you haven’t had time to fully unpack and set your room up. You also hadn’t talked to Toge much more than in passing. 

Pulling your folded clothes out of boxes and hanging them in the closet, your mind wanders. He asked to hang out first, does he want you to reach out next? Is he just busy? Or did you scare him off? You only hung out once, just because you have a huge crush on him doesn’t mean he feels the same after spending some small amount of time with you. He still seems to want to be friends, at least. So it wouldn’t be too weird to ask to hang out this weekend. That’s not so bad. Looking down at empty boxes, you realize you’ve been spiraling longer than you thought. Maybe you should just text him.

Pulling your phone out, you hear a commotion down the hall. The clang of pots and pans on the ground, Panda’s oversized footsteps thumping down the hallway, Maki yelling and Toge screaming “CAVIAR!”

Or, maybe you should text him later. He sounds busy.

A scuffle of footsteps make their way closer to your cracked door. Maki pokes her head in, she’s covered in half cooked rice. 

As mockingly sweet as she can muster, “hey [y/n], getting set up?” 

You nod, pretending you didn’t just hear the chaos. 

“Need help with those shelves?” she says gesturing to a box you’d thus far neglected.

“Yeah, I -” 

“Perfect! Here, take this” she shoves a disheveled Toge through the door and slams it.

“I was just about to text you. But you sounded, uh, busy.”

You lean into the doorway to look him up and down, amused. He laughs and pulls a grain of rice out of his hair.

Hanging shelves goes fast with the two of you, he holds them level while you screw them in. And since you’re concentrating, you almost don’t notice how close the two of you are standing together. Almost.

You’re on the last one above your bed, it’s the biggest and it’s heavy. He shifts so his hands are on both sides of the shelf above his head, pressing you between the wall and him. This shouldn’t be weird, you tell yourself. It’s not like there’s a better way to hold it. No, this is how you have to do this. Telling yourself that doesn’t change that you can feel his chest pressing into you and breath against your neck. Nevermind that you were on the floor of his room rolling around before he bit you Monday, this felt. Different.

Distracted, you pause for a second to take it all in. The feel of his warm body pushing into you with every inhale. His arms flexing above you. He’s so strong to hold something so heavy. Oh, shit. Back to work.

With some fumbling, the last screw goes in and you’re done. You spin around to mouth “thanks” but Toge stays in place. Smiling down at you, his arms drop slightly from the shelf to the wall, still pressing you back. His smokey violet eyes connect with yours. You glance at the circles on his cheeks, visible since he took his jacket off shortly after arriving. Sliding his hands down further, he gently grabs your wrists and pulls you down to sit with him. Keeping the closeness: you’re still up against the wall with him leaning in. He smiles and you forget how to breathe. His hand brushes the hair from your forehead, sliding it behind one of your now flushed ears. Your heart is pounding out of your chest as he moves in closer.

BANG. BANG. BANG. 

“Inumaki!?” 

Wide eyed, he freezes: still leaning into you with one hand on the wall near your head and the other at your side. 

BANG.

“Panda cleaned my kitchen. If you’re done hanging shelves, come help me with the extra laundry you made!” you hear Maki yell.

“Salmon!” he grumbles, not fast enough. Another bang and your door cracks open, giving Panda and Maki a direct view of the two of you on your bed. In the background, you see a pretending-to-be-nonchalant Gojo passing by then double-taking back to look over their shoulders. 

Well, so much for dispelling rumors.

He begrudgingly stands up and walks to the door. 

You slump into your bed in both embarrassment and disappointment. You were so close. You glance back at them.

Holding one finger up for the three of them to wait for something, Toge shoos the other three away and closes the door. 

Returning to your bed, he crawls back to you, pressing his hand back to its spot on the wall behind you while bringing the other behind your head. Leaning in, without hesitation, he presses his lips onto yours kissing you feverishly. Your face melts into his and you completely forget about the group standing outside your door listening. He pulls back, pecks your lips once more, and smiles before grabbing his jacket and walking out. You lay there, too stunned to move. Your hand slides over your comforter and - wait, is that a grain of rice?

9:58pm - Friday

🤍 [not to ‘you up’ you but you up?]

🖤 [kiss me once and you’re looking for a bootycall now?]

🤍 [you know it]

🖤 [pshhh]

🤍 [nah]

🤍 [fr tho i need to talk to you]

🤍 [i wanted to earlier but Maki just set me free 20 minutes ago]

🤍 [and i had to wash the rice out of my hair]

🤍 [can i come by?]

🖤 [you’re not making the rumors any better, Toge…]

You’re pretty tired from getting your room set-up and finishing all of your homework but you know you definitely won’t get any sleep putting this conversation off. Hopefully he doesn’t think kissing you was a mistake. You don't think you used your cursed energy on him?

🖤 [but yeah]

🖤 [of course you can]

Quickly, you jump out of bed to change into something cuter. Still gym shorts and a t-shirt but at least these ones aren’t ripped or stained. You fix your hair before running to the knock on the door.

Toge walks in, looking around in awe of your room. The shelves the two of you put up earlier are now covered in books, plants, and color changing lights in the shapes of your favorite anime characters. He gestures at them and smiles. The dim lighting glows in a rainbow of colors that dance on his face. Taking a massive breath, he begins typing. Pausing, he erases what he wrote, puts his phone away, and unzips his jacket. Biting his lip, he turns to you. Is he about to say something?

Extending one finger, he slowly points at you then at himself. Still biting his lip, he shrugs his shoulders in a question. His eyes dig into yours, begging you to understand.

“together” you whisper-yell, this time feeling your cursed energy pull him to you. A twinge of guilt hits the back of your mind at accidentally using your power on him, but it’s quickly pushed aside by the familiarity of him smashing his lips into yours. He kisses you with even more passion than earlier, gripping your waist like he can’t pull you close enough. You run your hands through his damp hair. He pulls his face away momentarily to nod yes, before smiling and squeezing you back into him. 

Your curse has completely faded and he’s still here.

I’m so proud of him, I didn’t really think Toge had game, but somehow writing him this way made sense. Good for him.

part 3

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[biglisbonnews]

The Benevolent Brutalism of Tzusing and Jesse Kanda Having been born in Malaysia, raised in Singapore and Taiwan, studied abroad in Chicago and now living between Taipei and Shanghai, DJ and producer Tzusing's well-traveled upbringing has formed the basis of his multifaceted exploration of identity in his music. Interrogating notions of what constitutes "authentic culture" and how that intersects on a personal, social and larger cultural level, the artist incorporates everything from classic Asian pop to industrial techno beats into his music, putting forth the dancefloor as a space to contemplate these complex ideas in a visceral way of engaging with the material.On his debut album 東方不敗, Tzusing looked to Jin Yong’s The Smiling, Proud Wanderer, a '60s wuxia novel about a swordsman that castrates himself in order to learn a powerful fighting technique, as a way to tackle culturally ingrained notions of masculinity in a flurry aggressive techno, house and club rhythms. Tzusing's new album 绿帽 Green Hat explores the intersection between gender and cultural expectation in a similar manner. It takes inspiration from the story of traveling intellectual Li Yuanming who, during the Tang Dynasty, would routinely leave his wife Cifu alone at home for long stretches of time, inadvertently driving her into the arms of her widowed neighbor, devising a method involving a green hat she stitched for Li that functioned as a green light for her lover to come over.In the same way that Hawthorne's titular scarlet letter functioned as a visual stand-in for infidelity, the green hat calls into question China's complicated history of patriarchal heteronormativity and how feelings of internalized male inadequacy manifest and persist throughout society. This presents itself as a stampede of thunderous drums, menacing synths and guttural chants dripping in testosterone while twinges of fear and anxiety creep their way in from the corners. The second single off the forthcoming album, "偶像包袱(Idol Baggage)," sees Tzusing put this conceptual mindset into practice, with clacking drumsticks and expansive bass marching through a dizzying swirl of dancing strings and manic laughter, ratcheting up the tension as he creates a pervading aura of impending doom throughout the track. "偶像包袱(Idol Baggage)" arrives alongside a new music video directed by Jesse Kanda that sees the Arca and Björk collaborator dramatize this liminal sense of terror and foreboding through a visual exploration of an empty anti-flood container. "This anti-flood tank is the largest in the world of its kind and protects Japan from its colossal vulnerabilities — tsunami and typhoon," Kanda explains. "When inside, it's like being inside the body of a giant. The textures and shapes of the columns and walls are like elegant muscles, garnished with fluid and solid residue. Innocently and most primarily, I wanted to show the beauty of this structure by itself."Related | Jesse Kanda Gets All Soft On UsPassing over vast swaths of concrete bathed in a warm incandescent hue, the visual captures the same looming sense of dread that runs through the track as it takes the viewer down a disorienting journey, contrasting the structure's hard, imposing presence with a warm, inviting palette that comes across as a sort of benevolent brutalism. "Personally, the narrative of the video is of emotion and its direct relationship with the body in the process of dissolving separation," Kanda says. "Relentlessly looking into direct experience — with patience, with love. The typography that is arranged over the video is the Heart Sutra from the Buddhist tradition which correlates to this process."Check out the official Jesse Kanda-directed music video for "偶像包袱(Idol Baggage)" below off Tzusing's forthcoming album 绿帽 Green Hat, out March 31 via PAN.Director and editor: Jesse KandaProducer: Kana FujimakiCinematographer: Timothée LambrecqDrones and photography: Steve GaudinTransport, health and safety: Tomo TakahashiPhotography: Zeng Wu https://www.papermag.com/tszusing-jesse-kanda-idol-baggage-2659567745.html

[astralaffairs]

so hear me out- mafia!thom where mc is a spy! working with the rival group or the government (probably run by hamilton) and gets caught? I’m just a simp for e2l~

ok but this prompt is FUN !!!!! ugh the tension

in which thom is a meanie >:( and james isn’t a softie

-------

“...one of Hamilton’s soldiers. Yeah, we found her down by the docks with a couple others; looked like they were trying to make a hit where we planned our drop.”

“Really? What happened to the others?”

“Got away. She was stationed closest to us, but by the time we got our hands on her, everyone else was starting to split.”

“Some loyalty.”

When Y/N found herself gradually beginning to drift into consciousness, disembodied voices polluting the dank, cold air around her, she found a splitting pain in her head and a dull ache in her shoulders. Cautiously, she cracked an eye open, squinting in the low light as she found herself in some clichéd, nondescript warehouse. Figures.

Her ass was getting sore from the metal folding chair she’d woken up tied to (seriously, they couldn’t have sprung for anything more luxurious?), and the harsh metal of the handcuffs around her wrists was digging into her skin. As her eyes adjusted, she could make out, if only vaguely, two — likely male — figures standing leaned against the wall, chatting about her circumstance as casually as if it were the weather. She sniffled, her nose running in the cold, and she itched to wipe at it. She sniffled harder.

“...She awake?”

“It sounds to me like she is.”

Y/N’s pulse began to accelerate as she heard footsteps echoing across the concrete floor, headed in her direction. She didn’t dare lift her gaze. She searched for any way out of the bind she was in — even if she could pick off the handcuffs, her ankles were tied to each of the chairs’ legs.

“Glad to see you conscious.” The voice was flat, cold as he finally addressed her, and Y/N swallowed hard. “What’s your name?”

She didn’t answer, head still bowed, instead responding with, “Where am I?”

Her tone was gruff, as menacing as she could manage with as small, weak as she felt, but the man who’d addressed her laughed. “Answer my question, and I’ll answer yours. Surely, you understand the concept of a quid-pro-quo?”

“You first.” Her glare was burning as she forced herself to look him in the eye, and while the man next to him looked annoyed, he remained entirely undeterred.

“I’m rather surprised that you think yourself in a position to be making demands.”

She scowled. “C’mon, what d’you have left to lose, telling me where we are while I’m your captive? God knows you’re just going to end up moving me, assuming I live that long.”

“A bold assumption,” one of the men said, tone dry and irked, but the man directly in front of Y/N gave him a tired look.

“Aaron,” he warned. “I’ll handle this.”

“Then handle it”

He visibly rolled his eyes as he turned back to Y/N, and the other man (Aaron, apparently), retreated to the outskirts of the expansive room, pulling out a pack of cigarettes.

“Anyway,” he went on, and Y/N huffed, yanking at the rope binding her arms to the chair. She knew it was futile, but it was more for her discomfort than any genuine attempt to escape. “It seems to me you have even less left to lose than we do. And you must know that we have other, less pleasant means of getting what we want, so it is in your own interest to comply.”

Y/N hesitated a moment — surely, once they’d taken her captive, they’d rooted through her belongings, opened her wallet, screened her for weapons, and checked her ID. Was this just some kind of intimidation technique? A power play? He was unfortunately correct; she didn’t have much to lose.

“My name’s Y/N,” she grumbled, finally. “As though you haven’t already torn through all my documentation.”

“How perceptive of you. Most try a few pseudonyms first.” His smile was serene. “This just might be fun.”

“What might be fun? Torturing and killing me? Throwing my body out to sea?” she bit back, the fury in her gaze never wavering, but he raised an eyebrow.

“What would make you think such a thing?” Mocking offense saturated his voice.

“I know you’re part of Jefferson’s fucking mob.” She yanked at her handcuffs; they clanked loudly against the chair. “I’ve heard about what you do to people.”

“Oh, have you? Thomas will be pleased with our notoriety.” As if on cue, three pairs of footsteps echoed behind Y/N — one of them must have been Aaron’s, as he was suddenly nowhere to be found, but the satisfied smile the man in front of her wore told her that she wasn’t going to like whatever came next. “Well, speak of the devil.”

Her eyes widened. Surely, they didn’t bring Jefferson himself to come see her, right? Dealing with captives was grunt work, not the responsibility of a mafia boss. She tugged and picked aggressively at her handcuffs, desperate to find a lock she’d be able to release.

“James.” The voice came from just behind her, a sadistic mirth in the man’s tone as he addressed the man who stood before her (James, apparently). The footsteps stalled at the exact moment Y/N grunted, throwing her shoulders forward with the link of the handcuffs caught on the chair’s edge. To think that she might actually be able to break her hands free was a desperate hope, but the man behind her laughed — not a taunting, mocking laugh, but one that made it clear how genuinely entertaining he was finding her pathetic struggle.

“I gotta say, when you told me you got one of Hamilton’s crew, I didn’t believe you at first.” A chill ran down Y/N’s spine when he circled her, and though she didn’t have any desire to look him in the eye, her curiosity overwhelmed her. When he reached her front, Thomas Jefferson, in the flesh, blood, and magenta business attire, crouched before her, and she swallowed roughly. He still managed to dwarf the chair to which she was tied. “But that mark is unmistakable, huh?”

Her skin burned as his gaze fixed on her neck, where she’d been branded just above her collarbone upon being sworn in as a member of Alexander’s mob. She turned her head away from him.

“She isn’t just any of his soldiers, either.” While James’s voice came from her left, Jefferson didn’t move, watching her with pleased intrigue. “She’s a Hamilton by blood.”

His eyes flashed with delight; his grin widened. “Oh, is she, now?”

With her head turned, Y/N inadvertently met James’s content stare, and though she didn’t waste a moment in tearing her gaze away, Jefferson occupied the remainder of her line of vision. She couldn’t help it when he caught her eye, and she couldn’t seem to look away. The way he watched her was predatory.

James hummed in confirmation. “His sister.”

“No.” His surprise was unmistakable, as was his perverse triumph. When she sneered back at him, he finally drew himself up to his full height, giving a satisfied chuckle. He turned to James. “Where would I be without you?”

“Same place, worse administration.”

“You got that right,” Jefferson said. “Just think about everything we’re gonna be able to do with her. She’s just the leverage we’ve been lookin’ for.”

“We searched her when she arrived, but nothing she had on her person gave us any new information. Her phone was a burner.”

“Normally, I’d call that disappointin’, but,” —Jefferson glanced back at her with a smug smile, if only for a fleeting moment— “we don’t needa dig up any of their communications when we’ve got the primary source all to ourselves.”

“If she’s really a Hamilton, I doubt she’s just going to talk that easily.” A feminine voice came from behind Y/N; she’d assumed Jefferson had entered flanked only by men. “Don’t get overconfident.”

“‘Course not, Maria. I know the limits of my own strength.” Y/N resisted rolling her eyes. “But I can tell she’s gonna be fun to break.”

She shuddered, squeezing her eyes shut; she wasn’t sure if she was more disgusted by the words they were saying or by how they were talking about her as though she wasn’t even there to listen. Maria scoffed. “Be careful. We need her responsive if we’re going to use her as bait.”

“Please. Bait’s thinkin’ too short-term. We can do a whole lot more with her than that.”

“Seriously? But if we keep her around—”

“I’m sitting right here, you know.” Y/N cut them off forcefully, looking up unabashedly with rage in her gaze. No one seemed so much as taken aback by it, hardly reacting to her outburst, and Jefferson met her eyes with an entertained smile, taking a step toward her.

“Oh, believe me, sweetheart, we know.” As he leaned down, Y/N could feel him looming over her, and any of her confidence in her actions was leveled. He hooked his fingers under her chin, forcing her to look up at him, and she grit her teeth.

“No one’s forgettin’ about you, here. After all, you’re the guest of honor,” he cooed, and his soft, condescending tone made her skin crawl. When she tried to jerk away from his touch, he gripped her chin. “And such a pretty little thing, too. ‘S a shame you’re a Hamilton, ‘cause I wouldn’t mind havin’ you all to myself.”

“Get your hands off me,” she snarled, and he laughed.

“You’re adorable, actin’ as though I’m gonna listen to a word you say.” He plastered on a pout, and she was shaking when he reached up to cup her cheek, run his thumb across her bottom lip. “Y’know, it’d do you well to learn who’s in charge here. As of today, I own you, and you’re lucky I like a challenge.”

“You don’t own shit,” she spat, but her voice trembled, and he raised an eyebrow. She could feel her eyes welling up. “My family’s coming for me. And when they do, you’re gonna be sorry.”

“Now, don’t tell me you really think that?” Mocking pity saturated his voice, and when Y/N only stared back at him blankly, he went on, “Nobody’s comin’ for you. If they really cared about you, they wouldn’t have fled so easy at the docks at the first sign of trouble. They wouldn’t have abandoned you there.”

“Excuse me?” was all she managed to say in a shaky, breathy whisper. He nodded sympathetically.

“That’s right. I know all about how your family left you for dead.” Her eyes stung when the first tear rolled down her cheek, and Jefferson brushed it away. Despite his contrived pout, satisfaction shone in his eyes. “Aw, no need to cry. ‘M sure all that hurts to hear, but you’re with us now. Your family’s the least of your worries.”

“I fucking swear,” she said, and despite the determined look she wore, her tears were now falling freely, “I swear, no matter what you do to me in here, I’m not going to break. I’m not going to let you break me.”

“Oh, sweetheart, no need to be scared. I have every confidence in you,” he assured her, “but I don’t intend to try and break you.”

“I’m not scared,” she hissed, and he smiled.

“I’m sure you aren’t.” He leaned in closer to her, and as he eyed her expression, he smoothed a piece of her hair back, wiped the tears from under her eyes. “And you don’t have to be. If you can be a good, obedient little girl and behave yourself, I think you’ll be surprised at just how gentle we can be.”

“And if I don’t?”

"You will.” The words were spoken with a degree of authority that sent chills down her spine; he spoke as though this were an inexorable truth. “I’m not gonna have to break you, and I won’t bother to try. You’re gonna give in to me all on your own, and it’s gonna be so much sweeter that way.”

“You’re delusional,” she seethed, and the smile that split his expression was wide, confident, but above all, unsettling.

“We’ll see about that.”

With that, he finally pulled back from her, looking beyond smug as he redirected his focus to the group, but he quickly adopted a harsh tone. “James, Aaron,” he barked, nodding toward the chair she was bound to. He caught her eye one final time, and while panic flashed in her gaze, he was beyond satisfied. “Set up a room for our guest. Looks like she’s here to stay.”

[sassooda]

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 24 - These Four Walls 🔞

w/c -6,406

           Naoya finds himself unable to sleep despite feeling the comfort of her next to him after their bath. As he shifts to sit himself up in the bed, her body subconsciously adjusts around him before laying her head lower along his abdomen. He’s ensnared by his own anxiety as he watches her sleep. Lies are not something he wants to start off with but how does he explain his plan to her? The pressure weighs on him as he claims to care about her. How does he tell her that he needs Getou alive in order to help him deal with Gojo?

           The strategy was always to bring the Zenin clan back as leaders and she’s been engraved into this for years now, way before they ever actually met. His only focus then was to fulfil what he was taught was his destiny. He received the ancient technique along with the traditionally inherited ones but they kept this a secret in fear of the Gojo clan retaliation. They wanted to at least strengthen Naoya, let him grow older, stronger, more resilient…things that would be necessary if he were to ever stand a chance against Satoru. It was not thought to be below Gojo to nonchalantly kill a possible threat back then, child or not. He was truly something else.

           The Zenin ancient technique is the manipulation of scalar warfare via scalar energy waves. This energy naturally exists amongst us but it travels completely differently than sound or visible light…much faster too. He can summon great amounts of energy and direct it to a coordinated location from any distance and with almost complete accuracy, he’s yet to fully master that part. With the energy traveling faster than the speed of light its an almost guaranteed win even if you don’t factor in how devastating the impact is. He’s not even informed Choso of this although he wishes he could now openly as his thoughts travel to alternatives.

           His left hand finds itself wrapping around her shoulder as she peacefully dreams. His fingers fumble with the loose cut off shirt that Choso let him borrow for her. He really should have thought about clothes. He looks down and lightly brushes his fingers along her shoulder blade and back while he sighs to her perfection. “You really messed my entire world up…” He whispers with a smile, knowing that he’s more than happy for it. He still thinks it’s better to be rid of Gojo for sure, he doesn’t really trust him with her or as a shaman in general. What he doesn’t want is for her to hate him because of it though and he knows that’s likely, even more so if he keeps these facts from her.

           His eyes take to their surroundings. ‘These four walls…’ He despises keeping her locked in here, a room without windows, living a life without freedom. The horrific indention in the floor from where Getou attacked her ends up being where his vision travels next and he feels as if he could scream in frustration. They’ve since cleaned the blood but it doesn’t matter, the memory stains his mind. He looks to the tub next, probably trying to ease his thoughts but he can’t help but notice the pink ring around the inside from where there’s still some bloody residue. They never cleaned their legs before getting in the first time together so inadvertently, the ring formed. ‘I need to wash that…’

           She stirs beside him and nuzzles her head into him further after bringing her left arm across his hips. His mood improves, causing him to beam as he reaches for the now dark grey covers to pull them over her more. The silver sheets were ruined after the first night as well from where they laid down right after she was healed. He wonders if there’s even the slightest chance that he can spare Gojo and him not be a problem. The original plan would probably be easier but he just can’t bring himself to hurt him knowing it would hurt her in return. Toji hasn’t even entered his train of thought before now and he sinks a bit knowing Toji wants her as well. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?” Naoya’s certainly not going to back down, especially if she wants him in her life but he’s also not aligned with the idea of fighting Toji, he admires and respects him far too deeply.

           He glances around the room again and comes to the odd realization that these four walls have also been a blessing in a way. Only here were they able to truly discover each other, his intentions finally understood by her. The words that left him and the actions he demonstrated always came out wrong before and this caused her to remain weary of him for quite some time. He thinks back to the first night when he let it slip that he loves her and how understanding her reaction was. ‘There’s no way she could have known…’ Understanding that he has a lot to learn about her still, he brushes the suspicion away. He takes his right hand and grabs her left one that’s thrown over him, bringing it to lie on his chest. He sighs as he debates further about how he should move forward.

           Truly, the one thing he wants to ensure over everything now is Getou’s demise. ‘That fucker has it coming.’ He’s never heard Choso’s opinion exactly but he has a hunch that he’s with him as far as Getou is concerned. ‘What a sneaky business this is.’ That makes him think of Sukuna now and he wonders if worse came to worse…would he be able to nullify him as well? Naoya now feels like he’s seemingly against the world aside from Choso. His gut harbors a bad feeling about what’s to come, he can’t ignore it.

           His grip on her hand became firm while he sorts through initiatives and he has to remind himself to relax again. Toji has been calling him nonstop and he’s purposefully disregarded this partially because he doesn’t want to tip off Getou but he’s also ashamed that Getou was able to rip out her wing…while he had her. If he does return Toji’s call, would he even be willing to talk? Would he be willing to help? Naoya finds it doubtful considering he reached out to him before and was shut down. ‘If it’s to get her out of here unharmed though…maybe he will be willing then.’ The more he ruminates over the obstacles he finds himself leaning against the original plan. He would rather her be safe over having Gojo taken out. He can’t prove it but he knows there’s something Getou’s hiding and he fears what that may turn out to be. Getou is closing in on him fast and Naoya’s understanding that there aren’t any limits or types of etiquette that Getou will follow so he has to remain sharp. Before Elska arrived, he planned on not hovering over like he has been in fear of how Getou would react…now he feels like he can’t leave her alone because of how Getou has acted.

           As his left-hand trails over her back under the loose shirt, his fingernails lift a corner of her seal. She’s already unable to protect herself with cursed energy in here so he loathes her being without her wings as well. ‘Fuck it.’ He pinches the lifted corner and peels the talisman away. ‘She needs to be left with some form of defense just in case.’ Right in that moment, as he’s crumbling up the paper into a wadded ball, he comes to terms with the fact that he officially wants her out of there. “You deserve better…” he sighs deeply as he looks to the ceiling.

           “But you’re not so bad…”

           He jumps a bit from her sudden response and waits to see if she’s actually awake. His eyes are trained on her as he sees her open her own to look up at him. She smiles and sits up as if she’s going to leave the bed but she just repositions herself to lay against his chest in a semi upright position as well.

           “Naoya?”

           “Yes, princess?”

           She giggles to the pet name as she knows she is probably the furthest thing from that. “What’s on your mind? You usually snore a bit…”

           He’s caught off guard by this and lets out an abrupt “Ha!” as he found it pretty funny. “Do I now?” He dances his fingertips along her back to tickle her and she jolts awkwardly into him while they laugh.

           “You do indeed…but it’s not loud, it’s actually kind of cute.” She smiles against him while she listens to his heartbeat and the way he fills and empties his lungs. ‘So wonderful…’ There’s a comfortable silence that washes over them but she asks again, “What’s bothering you though?” When he exhales sharply, she lifts herself up to face him. His eyes seem melancholy and heavy when he looks back to her and she can sense that he’s really worried about something. “Naoya, please…just tell me.”

           “Elska,” He begins as he tries to uplift his demeanor, “This isn’t a good place for you, I was selfish when I thought it would be.” He glances down at her lap but can feel her eyes on him so he meets them. His hand is still around her left one so he squeezes it slightly and brings it to his lips. “I want to be with you but I have to take care of a lot of issues first.” He can now feel his worried expression as she raises a concerned eyebrow at him.

           “I will help you with Getou.” The apprehension on her face fades to a determined one as she brings her right hand to run through his hair. He smiles to it but she can tell he was about to negate her words, he was clearly against the idea.

           “He is why I have to get you out of here.” He’s watching her as she shifts to straddling him and he gulps down air as she finds her balance. “You still have no idea what he’s capable of…”

           “I don’t want you around him either Naoya, he holds malice towards you.” She clicks her tongue, “I will slice him to ribbons if he even tries to harm you.” Her eyes began to glow at the end of her statement, reflecting the light off of Naoya’s fair complexion.

           He wasn’t expecting her to say any of that, he finds her to be much more delicate than she maybe is. “Consideration of this matter is over, I will not allow you to fight him.” He feels like he sounded brutish or insensitive so he begins to reword it, “What I meant was…”

           “I know you’re worried Naoya but you are not alone in this.” Her hands search his arms aimlessly before progressing, “I want to crush him for what he did to me in front of you. For the way he made you feel.” Her eyes are still glowing as her hatred forms inside. When she drank from him after Getou’s attack, she was able to feel every bit of sorrow he experienced…all of the guilt from the situation as well. “Why did you remove the seal if you weren’t wanting me to fight?”

           “I want you to be able to defend yourself Elska… my stomach turns at the thought of something like that happening again. This is why you have to go.”

           “Then you’re coming with me.” Her words felt strong as she stiffens her expression to stand against his reluctancy. “Regardless of how we do this, I’m not leaving without Itadori or you.”

           He feels his chest become heavy with emotion as her words warm and chill him all the same. “I’m sure Gojo and Toji will be fine with that.” He scoffs to himself as he places a hand on his head and apologizes. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just…ughhh…”

           She sees his vexation and doesn’t take offense, she knows better than to think he’s so blatantly rude, ‘He’s just upset…’ She sees him struggling to finish his meaning now being a little more flustered than before so she leans down and kisses him. The way it feels when he kisses her back is indescribably beautiful. As much as she doesn’t want to pull away, she does but only so she can bring his head to her chest. While resting her chin above him, she runs her fingers through his hair trying to help him find some reprieve. “Why is it so important that Getou lives Naoya? What purpose were you claiming he serves before?”

           This was the part he was apprehensive about and he hesitates to speak as he’s already decided to tell her the truth, he just doesn’t want her to pull away. After a long sigh he wraps his arms around her and admits, “Well…it was to help me deal with Gojo.” He closes his eyes against her as he waits for the inevitable movement of her trying to be free of his grasp. She doesn’t budge though nor does she say anything so he thinks to continue, “That would mean keeping you here though…and I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m going to try and talk with Toji to come up with a plan.” She moves now and pulls away but not as he expected.

           She’s looking down into his eyes and knows that hurt is displayed on her face. “You were planning on killing Sati this entire time?” She thinks back to when he was sealed and wonders why they wouldn’t have done it then…also extremely grateful that they didn’t.

           “The plan was to try…or at least seal him again.” His voice is dampened with regret but he’s glad he was able to be truthful.

           “Naoya… you can’t!” She’s unsure how to think through this situation. Her heart has been split into three…three for Christ’s sake. ‘Nanami was right about us being completely dysfunctional.’ She feels the severity of the situation and is baffled by how she had no idea…Naoya doesn’t have that kind of taste at all.

           “That’s not the design anymore,” He brings his right hand to cup her cheek and uses his thumb to wipe away her tear that was forming, “There’s no way I could go through with it now, I’m incapable of putting you through that Elska.” He sees her expression soften as she grabs his hand with her own. “Now with that being said, I can’t promise not to fight him…I may not have a choice.”

           At first her brow furrows to this but she understands shortly afterwards that he’s meaning Satoru may attack him. “I will protect you Naoya, as you’ve done for me here… they just need to know that and it will be fine!” She almost rolls her eyes to her own statement as she nods to him to show she wasn’t actually that delusional. “I mean, we can try to explain at least…” Her eyes widen for a second as she darts her eyes back to him. “I actually don’t think Sati hates you at all Naoya… perhaps quite the opposite.”

           He’s confused by this and is convinced that she’s making a joke so he smiles but the intensity in her eyes doesn’t diminish. “What do you mean by that?” He’s genuinely curious as he thinks about all of their interactions and how friendly they weren’t.

           She stares blankly into the bed as she wonders to herself, ‘Yea how exactly should I explain this one? Would it be better not to?’ She’s nervously looking at him now as he patiently waits for clarification. “Not to bring up bad deeds but do you remember the time when you did have him sealed and I came searching for him?” Naoya grins immediately but then composes his face as he tries to pretend that he still doesn’t enjoy that memory. She returns a playful look to him and he bashfully shrugs his shoulders and says, “What? It was kind of hot before the almost dying part…”  She blinks slowly to his response and looks away as she’s even more unsure now if she should clear this up or not. She wants to laugh but is somewhat concerned. ‘What are the fucking odds? Please God, no… I don’t think I could handle him too…’

           “What is it? Was that weird and not funny?” Naoya felt the disconnection in the conversation after he spoke and worries that he was far too comfortable with her.

           She looks back to him with caution, “He felt the same.” She shoves Naoya’s chest so he falls down against the pillows, “You two are such perverts!”

She laughs as he gathers she’s not bothered and belts out high-pitched chuckles as he’s forms, “Are you saying he really wasn’t ready to kill me?!” He’s in disbelief as she’s still giggling above him.

“No and I really don’t think he hates you Naoya...I can’t tell you exactly what he feels but it’s not hatred.” Both of her hands are on his chest now as their voices fill the room. “Don’t get any bright ideas though, he does NOT need encouragement in that realm.”

He sits up slightly and is wondering if he’s over thinking her statement but asks anyways, “Has he tried to make that happen?” He feels her tense up a bit. “Elska?”

“This is why I took a minute to speak, I feared it would lead to this…” She looks down at him as her eyes warn him of something he really doesn’t want knowledge of.

He sits up further as he adjusts his arms to hang off her waist, “I’m not going to like this I’m guessing…” She nods no and his mind begins to wander at who Gojo would have involved with them, ‘Surely she wouldn’t act this way if it were a random person…’ Then it hits him. His eyes grow wide with shock as he looks back up to her. “TOJI?”

She’s waiting for his disgust to become apparent and shifts her weight to her shins and knees to be prepared for him to want her to move off of him. “Yes…” Her eyes are fixed onto his abdomen as she savors the image fearing she may not be able to see him from this angle anymore, in this context. He doesn’t say anything but she hears him huff a couple of times. The anticipation of his rejection is killing her so she starts to climb off of him but he stops her.

“Where are you going?” He grabs her by the waist gently to anchor her back into his lap. She still doesn’t look at him but can tell she’s tearing up. “Don’t cry, it’s…not what I was expecting is all…I just needed to…internalize that.” He guides her chin back towards his direction. “It’s ok…I really just would never have seen that coming. Gojo seems way too greedy to me.” He tries to smile awkwardly as he hides his discontent of knowing him and Toji did that with her. There’s no doubt in his mind now though that it would’ve been Gojo’s idea as he thinks back to the day he was taking Elska from behind in front of him. “So THAT’S what that look was…” He sees her confusion and says, “Of course I did not want that image in my head but I’d rather be aware than dumb.” He wraps his arms a little bit tighter around her, “And Gojo gave me a look that day when I was…when we were…” He smiles widely, “I was expecting hateful eyes but they weren’t…and now that makes sense.” He laughs wholeheartedly as she finally smiles again. “I’m not so eager to share though,” He gives her a quick peck on the lips, “I just didn’t mind him having to watch.” He winks to her and growls into another kiss as he’s trying to encourage her to relax again.

She’s beyond relieved but still embarrassed about the topic of conversation. ‘I kind of asked for that one though.’ There’s no way for her to understand how his mind navigates these things as his reaction kind of surprises her. She can tell that he’s ruffled by it but he’s so genuinely calm over the matter as if he doesn’t see fit to place her with any blame. She definitely didn’t initiate it but she was still a participant.

They stare into each other for a brief moment before Naoya asks quietly, “So…did you…” He’s dragging his feet at this point, “…did you like it?”

           She wishes she could hide under the covers or hold her breath underwater in the tub, anything to help her escape this question. She looks up to the ceiling and takes a deep breath as she can’t help but feel so strange having this discussion with Naoya while straddling his lap. “If I’m being honest…” His eyes are overflowing with a kind of curiosity, “I think I could have if things had gone differently but overall, not really.” If it weren’t for Toji she might not have experienced much pleasure at all that night but doesn’t want to exactly hash out the details with Naoya.

           “Hmm…” He leans his lips into her collar bone and drags his tongue to her neck before planting a deep and sensual kiss. He hears her breath shudder and smiles while biting his lip before pulling away. He’s not upset with that answer at all aside from the indication that one of the two at least caused her displeasure. “I will say that I don’t find Gojo to be the healthiest or best of influences and I just really hope he didn’t hurt you. I have faith in Toji but not him.” Despite learning this new information, he actually is overcome with relief. This is that small chance he was hoping for, a way to not have to harm Gojo in the process of everything. “If this is the case though then maybe him and I won’t fight after all…” He looks back up to her and feels goosebumps as she runs her nails along his scalp.

           “Now that we have that figured out… it’s settled, we leave together.” She sees his face as he’s hesitant to promise such things. “If I catch wind that you try anything different, I will take matters into my own hands regarding Getou…do not try me.”

           He’s not heard that tone from her before and felt the authority of her statement. He buries his face into her chest as he lets out a muffled and stressed noise “God damn it Elska, why won’t you just let me protect you?”

           She’s trying to keep a straight face as he shakes his head slowly into her breasts, wanting him to know that she’s serious. “I am a warrior princess, ok? Granted I can’t really prove that since I can’t even summon energy here but I still have ways to harm.”

           He chuckles to her words, ‘Warrior princess’ not in doubt but just adjusting to how feisty she can be. “There’s talismans in the walls.” He looks up to her now, feeling his heart skip a beat with how endearing her face is despite his words. “They had to be arranged a certain way but if you look closely along the wall by the tub,” he points in the direction as she turns her body to see, “There’s a small ‘x’ over there. Once I send my fist through that part of wall and remove one of the chaining talismans, they will all become unusable.” He smiles to her with pride as he truly thought most of this through. “If something happens, just do exactly that. I’d already have done it if we had another way to hide your presence…Getou would know immediately otherwise.”

           “What if he notices the talisman from my wings missing?”

           “He shouldn’t fucking be in here to see.” His eyes narrow instantly to the thought. ‘That’s not a bad point though and what if he uses a Titer?’ The uneasiness creeps back through him. “I’m going to try and go see Toji tomorrow though…but that means I won’t be here for a while.” He winces to his words. “I’ll ask Choso if he can come accompany you while I’m away. He was even thinking to bring Itadori over at some point if he could.”

           “I would love to see him! He’s still doing well right?” It’s such weird situation, her and Itadori both being held prisoner by people that genuinely care about them. She almost can’t help but laugh outwardly at the vast strangeness of this all. “I’m glad he has a brother though and Choso seems very nice…although he’s also terrifying.”

           “Choso is very powerful, that’s probably why. He’s capable of so many things too, I’m not even sure that I’m privy to all of his abilities.” He’s proud to say that, he knows his new friend is a damn good one to have on his side. “He’s a good guy though, I promise.” Their smiles meet each other and he sighs as he stares up at her, wanting to touch every part of her. He instead rests his hands on her thighs and attempts to save his sanity.

           “I trust your judgement about him.” She feels his eyes roaming her discretely and smirks at how something as simple as that is enough to rile her up when it comes to him. He knows he’s been caught because he smiles slyly in response before pulling her down towards him, their tongues greeting each other. “Stop teasing me Zenin…”

           “It’s rough, isn’t it?!” His cackles are deep and mixing into moans as they allow themselves a few moments of bliss. It doesn’t take but a couple of seconds before their panting and whining into each other’s mouths. His desire to have her races through him as he feels a moment of weakness and lifts his hips into her. Her gasp made his head spin as all of the blood his body holds seems to flood into his groin. “Baby…” One hand laces into her hair as he tilts her head back to tongue and nip her neck as he strains his own to sit up enough to do so. Her moan from his ministrations brings her submissiveness to the forefront of his mind and he can no longer deny the situation as he grows beneath her. He’s sure she can feel it, he’s not wearing pants and she’s not wearing any underwear. When he nudges his hips again, he can feel how wet she is and he sends his hand between her legs to conduct more. He still holds her hair loosely but has now made it to where their faces are inches apart. He sends one finger into her slowly and watches her expression as he glides it in. He pulls her down further to kiss him as he then sends in a second one. She whimpers into his lips and he feels like he’s going to burst.

           His mind is screaming for them to stop, she could release her pheromones at any time. “Are you ok right now?” He breathlessly whispers in between their kissing. She doesn’t feel overheated nor are her eyes glowing but he wants to make sure. She says nothing but smiles and bites her bottom lip as she sends her own hand down between them to guide herself over him. He felt his eyes widen as he feels her wrap her fingers around his shaft. “Baby…wait…” but she doesn’t. Within seconds she’s slowly sinking into him, never stopping until he was completely seated inside of her. He moans loudly as he’s wanting her desperately but is also frustrated by the situation. She bends down completely and resumes kissing him while slowly rocking her hips, causing him to have to bend his knees so that he didn’t slip out…even though he knows he needs to stop this. “God damn it Elska…” He forces speech through gritted teeth as he wantonly glares at her unable to truly be angry but is still almost agitated. He wraps his hand back into her hair and tilts her chin up again. He kisses her jaw and places his left hand on her right thigh and grabs it roughly, not enough to hurt her but enough for her to know he’s kind of pissed off. She moans disapprovingly when she realizes she’s unable to ride him while he holds her thigh down and struggles to meet eyes with him as he’s still holding her head back.

“You’re going to make me do this and I will regret it when your pheromones release…” He thrusts into her once and she seductively whines. “I want you so fucking badly…” He thrusts into her a second time, only deeper and her cries fill the room as she’s unraveling above him. His hands release her hair and she sends her lips onto his without hesitation. He’s now grabbing both of her thighs as he feels his glare plastered onto his face. His hips push up into her again and she folds over completely on top of him. He hisses through his teeth and pumps her a few more times consecutively as she moans into his neck. “Why do you… do this to me?” He sounds angry and he honestly is but he’s still completely enthralled by them finally wrapping into each other like this again. It hadn’t been very long but he can’t stand to fight their feelings and desires. “You tell me when I need to stop Elska” He grunts as she moans into an agreeance, “Because I’m going to fuck you until you do.”

She lets her voice echo through the room as she just received ravishing verbal confirmation that he was going to give it to her…that which she needs from him. This dominating side of Naoya makes her feel euphoria already. He’s not exactly rough but he’s so passionate and genuine that she just wants to let him have his way with her. She has this belief that if she granted him that access, he would still do it with a level of delicacy. The way he feels to her is beyond words as she wishes she could relay her pleasure to him properly but as he ruts into her, she can only focus on the sensations. Making him mad wasn’t her intention but she finds it extremely difficult to fight off her urges and has to admit that angry lustful Naoya makes her feel even more like this was supposed to be. She sits herself up enough to hover over his face and the look he’s giving her can only be described as furrowed and alluring. “I’m sorry…Naoyaa” She whispers as he continues to send himself inside of her. Her breath is caught as she tries to control her volume but ends up gasping while she feels him repeatedly brush against the spot that has her losing her mind above him. She finds herself digging her nails into his shoulders being unaware until she reflexively curls her fingers and scratches his skin. She’s doing everything in her power to refrain from releasing them but feels it quickly approaching.

He’s learning her body more and more every day. He quickly became determined to make this as fast as possible, hoping they can reach the heights together but is prepared to have to stop at any given second. Her body has always been his guide, he feels like it’s as if she’s a language he can easily speak.  As her eyes flutter above him while she’s contracting around him, he curses the day that anyone ever stands between them again. He’s surprised that they’ve been able to make it for this long without triggering the release but it seems like the moment he found solace in that he notices a slight trace of the scent. He immediately lifts her off of him so that he can remove the biggest contributing factor, himself.

He expects her to pout but she’s a smiling mess as she leans down to kiss him deeply. A throaty groan leaves him as he feels her arms to see if she’s physically hot. She’s warm but it could be from their activities. He’s lying flat with his hands now over his eyes as he tries to regulate his heart. “Baby…you can’t do that anym-…” He feels warmth engulfing his tip and sliding down his shaft. He whines as he thinks she’s climbed back over him but realizes that her weight isn’t there. ‘Wait…is she..?’ His eyes dart open to see her lids as she’s swallows him down. He feels excitement as she creates suction that results to a small popping noise as she raises her head up again. She’s bent over on the side of him with her backside high in the air, he can’t help but marvel at appealing sight.

“What can’t I do Naoya?” Her voice is slightly broken as she lowly whispers into him, her devious eyes meeting his as she catches her breath.

“I don’t believe I said anything.” He smirks as he moves to sit up more, wanting to witness this new first for them as he realizes why she was smiling after he pulled out. He grins too seeing how eager she is to do this. She drops her head back down and it sends his head upwards. He shifts his weight to one arm so he can reach out and touch her. Her eyes lock onto his as she hollows her cheeks and he feels himself inching closer. He tries to grab her hair to pull from her face but he fumbles with strands until she assists him. He doesn’t want to add pressure to her, he just wants to see. He’s moaning relentlessly now as she bobs over him, the sounds created from her sucking adding to his experience as he still can’t help but feel she’s absolutely stunning. He feels the tension rising within, the warmth from his own end, “B…baby…I’m about to…” She quickens her pace and he can’t do anything but sink back into the pillows while his body involuntarily flinches as he’s unloading all of his frustrations into her mouth.  He whimpers as she slowly brings her lips back up and lets him flop onto his stomach. Through heaving he asks her if she finished at all and she shakes her head, “This wasn’t about me.” And smiles, “You feel really good regardless so don’t worry.” Her eyes are soft as they gloss over his body and she wipes her face clean.

As she collects air in the form of gasps, she looks back to Naoya who finally looks a little livelier and not so weighted down, “You needed that…” Her hand caresses his left thigh while she breathes heavily “…you were so stressed out and I know I’m the cause.” He’s motioning her to come closer so she crawls up towards him.

“You specifically do not stress me out.” He pulls her by the back of the head so he can kiss her deeply. He brings his fingers underneath her chin to lift her gaze up more towards him, “It’s actually everyone else.” They both breathlessly snicker as she curls back into him and lays her head on his heaving chest. They have to fight the covers underneath them before they can be pulled over top but once they do, they settle back into each other. “I do feel better though,” his heart threatens to leap from under his ribs as he realizes that was probably her intention all along. The smile painfully fixed to his face widens as he feels the actual love from a woman, from her. “Thank you...” He hums as he notices they’re in the same position as when she was sleeping but his heart feels bigger and the amount of anxiety he has about the days to come seems significantly smaller.

“I have no idea what awaits us outside of this room…” Reality is rearing it’s ugly head as she feels she must address this, “…but I can no longer ignore what you are to me Naoya.” The left hand she has placed on his chest balls up, “And I can’t ignore the fact that I’m with Sati either…and what we’ve been doing, how I can’t keep away from you….” She takes a deep breath as she calms the unsteady emotions that were rising within her. “And Toji…Toji is very dear to me. We’re bonded.” She wishes she would have remained silent, fearing that she just ruined the beautiful moment they were sharing. His hand rests over her fist now and she watches his hand fumble to open hers so their fingers can interlock.

“I was already aware of things being complicated princess, don’t work yourself up so much over that.” He brings her fingers to his lips to kiss them. “I’m certainly not thrilled with the predicament but I knew they both worked themselves into your life.” He brings his left hand to brush through her hair, “That’s why it was so important for you to know that you have a choice with me. I will not manipulate you.”

“I believe you when you say that.” She’s understanding exactly how many different ways he makes her feel amazing. “You really are a good man, Naoya…” It seems like no matter what the topic, they can strive through it all, like they’re indestructible together. “We’ve had an interesting past but there’s something about all of this, I need you in my future as well.” She lifts her head up to see him and he’s already looking down to her. She feels so insecure as his gaze seems so piercing looking over her while he’s lost in thought.

Just a week ago he was cloaked in distress worrying about if she would even really consider him, especially under these circumstances. Mere days ago, his heart fractured when he thought he was going to lose her for good after Getou’s vile attack. Minutes ago, they were direly experiencing each other and upon hearing her say all of that, in this exact moment he knew he was supposed to be with her.

“And I will be there.” He’s feeling so many different things that he doesn’t even know where begin. “Be in mine as well?” She smiles, nods and says yes to this and he can’t help but to reach out to her to bring her back into him. He’s now revamped and possibly even somewhat looking forward to his discussion tomorrow. Things definitely don’t seem as bleak as his relief from their honest exchanges allow him feel more at ease.

“Everything will work out.” He rubs her shoulder with a new armor of confidence, “And if not, we’ll fucking make it.”

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[mimosaeyes]

Jon still gets nightmares.

Set in a post-canon ‘verse where they save the world, build a life together, and adopt a cat. It’s a series now! This fic (2.7k) works standalone, but is best read after the others, especially I Was Found (13.2k of softness). Everything below the cut will spoil you for the end of that fic.

Beta-ed by @emberidzae. Thank you for telling me it’s probably fine.

There is a special kind of quiet that occupies a room near two in the morning. The refrigerator hums, the water pipes whine, sirens go off in the distance — this is London, after all. But beneath that lies stillness, elusive like the space between breaths.

Jon sits on the sofa, rocking ever so slightly and waiting for... he doesn’t even know what. For peace to slip into his lungs. Be carried along in his blood, spread throughout his brain. Every time he blinks, he thinks he sees horrific afterimages on the backs of his eyelids. Tonight, his dreams have been full of bodies: burning, running, festering, falling, twisting, crying, choking. Closing in on all sides of him, until his sight was completely obscured.

Out of that apparent void, a single, all-encompassing eye mired in spiderwebs had opened, and looked directly at him. Under its scrutiny, it was as if he and Martin had never fixed the world he’d broken. Never torn themselves out of the Mother of Puppets’ plots, or away from the Ceaseless Watcher.

He exhales slowly, burying his face in his hands. Surely he should be used to nightmares by now. He’s had a long history with them, between statement givers and his own encounters with entities and avatars. The dreams were always vivid and hallucinatory, clinging to him as he struggled toward consciousness and woke gasping, often clutching the arms of the office chair he’d dozed off in. Later, after he ended the world, he’d stopped sleeping entirely. Slumber no longer carried the promise of rest.

No one remembers clearly what happened to them in the domains during the apocalypse. That collective, polyphonic torment now lives on only in Jon’s mind. He may not be affiliated with the Beholding anymore, but some part of him will always be the Archive.

The frustrating thing is that over the last year and a bit, the nightmares have been happening less and less frequently. He’d actually thought they were going away, but all week now, Jon’s been waking up screaming or sobbing, tangled in the sheets, his pyjamas soaked through with cold sweat. Martin hasn’t gotten through a night undisturbed, either. They’re both exhausted; that’s probably why he managed to slip out of bed without alerting him initially.

Just then, a slight sound makes him look to his left. What he sees is so incongruous to his mood that he begins huffing in silent laughter.

Boo, the smaller of their two cats, is using one front paw to bat at his ear, on which a large dust bunny appears to be stuck. It’s a slightly lighter grey than his fur, else Jon may not have even seen it. 

Jon knows the exact moment Boo notices him looking, because he stiffens for a second. He’s been with them for a little over a month now, and while their efforts to make him feel at ease in their home have paid off somewhat, he remains jumpy.

Jon holds perfectly still. After a few seconds, Boo returns to his scratching, but to no avail. The dust bunny somehow ends up entangled in his whiskers, stretching between them and the tip of his ear. Boo shakes his head once, twice. Then he sneezes — and arches his back, his fur standing on end. 

He had actually startled himself with his own sneeze. Jon can’t help cracking a smile, endeared and grateful for the distraction, inadvertent though it may be. 

Clearing his throat quietly, he asks, “Would you like some help with that?”

Boo ignores him, which is ideal. It takes a certain amount of trust on this cat’s part to be considered beneath notice — meaning, not a threat. When Jon gets off the sofa and tries to approach, though, Boo freezes and watches him warily. So he sits down on the floor instead, thinking.

After a while, he begins softly singing the alphabet.

Immediately, Boo’s look changes from alert to curious. Whenever Jon has had the opportunity to do so, he’s been reading aloud to get Boo used to hearing his voice. Assembly instructions for a new shelf, dubious job listings he finds online, the weekly shopping list. At first, this strategy had been very successful. Boo learned to stop diving for cover every time Jon or Martin called for each other from another room. Then came the day Jon paused midway through washing up after dinner, to find Boo sitting not two metres away from his feet. It had been a crowning moment of triumph until Martin said, “You hum songs when you do the dishes, did you know? I think he likes it.”

Jon had somehow not been aware of this habit. He was instantly embarrassed.

Not that he’s stopped since it was pointed out to him. He’s actually been experimenting. Boo may have a certain fondness for ‘90s power ballads.

Which he is hardly going to attempt at this time of night. Instead, Jon cycles through the rainbow song and that one about the teapot, making no move as Boo cautiously approaches, blue eyes huge and unblinking. When he’s within an arm’s length, Jon stops singing and offers his hand for Boo to sniff at.

Purring now, Boo lets himself be pet. Jon seizes his chance and gently pulls off the dust bunny. “Now where did you even get this?” he wonders aloud. They’re generally diligent about household chores, especially keeping the place clean. Martin has allergies, and Jon likes the routine.

Boo nudges up into his fingers and leaves a smudge of fine dust on them.

A sneaking suspicion enters Jon’s mind. He narrows his eyes at the cat. “You’ve been in the study all day,” he says. “I saw you go in. And the desk has that jammed drawer, doesn’t it?” 

They’ve been meaning to fix that. The drawer is stuck just wide open enough for dust to collect on the inside. And apparently, for a skinny, timid cat to make his hiding place.

“Well, that’s one mystery solved,” Jon muses, continuing to pet Boo despite the dirt. “Filthy boy,” he says affectionately. “Scruffy. Crumpet will refuse to cuddle with you.”

Mrow, Boo protests in his low, bullfrog-like way. He’s much less vocal than his calico counterpart, so Jon doesn’t get to hear this often.

“I suppose you’re right. She’ll probably just try to clean all this off you. She dotes on you, doesn’t she?”

He falls silent for a while, until Boo indicates with a flick of his tail that he’s had enough. Jon lets him wander some distance off and begin grooming.

In the lull of activity, the memory of his nightmare comes back with a vengeance, screaming in his brain and making him suck a breath in through his teeth. He had known their names as they struggled in their personal hells at the end of the world, had drunk his fill of their suffering and felt sated in that most inhuman side of himself. 

It’s since been ripped away, of course, taking with it the voyeuristic detachment that had, in a perverse way, protected him from the distress his nightmares now cause him. Yet it scares Jon that that had ever been a part of him. Ever found suitable soil and taken root.

He’s fine, though. Or so he keeps telling himself. These aren’t the worst dreams, after all. No, those are the ones where he loses Martin. In the Panopticon. In the house on Hill Top Road. To the call of the Lonely. To the slip of a knife in the Hunt. There were so many ways one or both of them could have not survived. Not gotten to have everything they now have together.

Jon swallows and massages his temples. “Boo,” he says, “you’re afraid of everything. Any tips?”

Boo looks at him for a long moment, then yawns.

“I see,” Jon starts to say, just as a strangled cry comes from the street below. One of London’s many foxes, probably. Jon has learned to tune out this sort of thing, but the sound sends Boo scrambling for shelter.

And he runs to Jon.

“Oh, it’s okay,” Jon murmurs. “Just a fox. It’s over now. It’s okay.” After hesitating a moment, he picks Boo up and deposits him on his lap, then encircles the cat loosely with his arms. He doesn’t squish him — it’s Crumpet who likes to be bundled up and snuggled. He just sort of surrounds Boo, letting him mash his face into the crook of Jon’s elbow.

It takes a long time for Boo’s fur to settle back down. Jon starts stroking him after a minute, keeping his movements soothingly slow. “You’re safe here,” he tells him. 

Then he sighs and repeats quietly, to himself, “You’re safe. You’re here. It’s over.”

Boo leaps off his lap, rumbles at him, then darts back into the study. Jon watches him go, shaking his head. A problem for tomorrow.

He sighs, then pauses and deliberately takes a deep breath. He holds it for a count of five before releasing the air. He imagines tension bleeding away as he does.

Martin had taught him this technique back in the safehouse in Scotland — far from the first time Jon had had nightmares, but certainly the first time anyone had been there to comfort him when he woke up. Progressive muscle relaxation, Martin said it was called. He’d used it himself during his stay in the Archives, whenever those thirteen days he spent trapped in his flat by Jane Prentiss came back to haunt him. 

“Breathe in, tense? Okay, now hold,” he murmured, sitting up in bed next to Jon, his silhouette familiar and comforting against the yellow glow cast by the bedside light. It had been on by the time Jon surfaced into consciousness, still panting and crying.

“One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three, four, five,” Martin counted for him. “Release, breathe out.” His hands ran over Jon’s shoulders, warm and soothing. “Better?”

Jon nodded. “A bit,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. He must have yelled in his sleep before Martin managed to rouse him. “Listen, you... you don’t have to do this. I can go sleep on the couch.”

Martin went silent for a moment. “The other day, when I dreamt I was back in the Lonely. Did it cross your mind to kick me out, even for a second?”

“No,” Jon said at once, shocked. “Of course not.”

“Then that’s settled,” Martin said firmly. “You’re not okay, and I can help. That’s all there is to it. On to your arms next, ready? Breathe in, tense...”

Alone in their living room, but following Martin’s instructions from before, Jon works his way through various muscle groups until he gets to his hands, at which point he clenches his fists and presses his knuckles down against the floor on either side of his thighs. That probably isn’t recommended. He hasn’t done it hard enough to hurt, though, and he needs the sensation, he thinks, to ground himself in reality. To remind himself that he’s here in their tiny apartment, and if he goes to peer out the window, the sky will not look back at him. 

He’s here and it’s long past midnight, but if he texts Daisy, she will grouse good-naturedly, then call him to ramble about how the new podcast she’s started listening to is pretty good, but could never measure up to The Archers. If he goes back to the bedroom and tells his husband he needs him, Martin will rub his eyes and get up to make Jon some tea. He’ll put in milk and sugar, which always seems too indulgent for Jon to do himself, and they’ll cuddle up with a book, or in front of the telly with the volume turned way down.

The people he loves, who love him in return, are within reach. Even when they’re not there next to him. Jon knows this in a way that has nothing to do with the Beholding. It’s just hard to remember sometimes.

He exhales one final time, and that’s when Martin appears in the doorway to their bedroom.

“Hey,” he says quietly, looking soft and rumpled in his pyjamas. His voice is rough with sleep, low with concern. “I woke up and you weren’t there. Is this a bad night?”

Another one, you mean? Jon wants to say bitterly. He bites it back; it’s only the sleep deprivation talking. “I just needed a moment to clear my head,” he says, clambering to his feet. “Let’s go back to bed.”

He honestly feels a lot better, and he thinks he’s done a decent job of sounding normal. He must still look like a mess, though, because Martin frowns and stops him from squeezing past. “Wait. Do you want to talk about it?”

Jon’s already shaking his head. “No. It was just... more of the same.” The first few times, Martin had stayed up with him while Jon stammered out the things he’d seen in his dreams. He listened and tried to reassure him, and it had helped to an extent. But the more Jon spoke, the harder Martin’s lips pressed together in that way that meant he was horrified and trying to hide it. Jon had grown all too familiar with that expression during their walk through the domains.

He clears his throat. “Really, Martin. Everything’s fine.”

“Then why’d you come out here by yourself? Why didn’t you wake me?”

“Well, I thought one of us should get some sleep,” Jon says drily, only he’s tired, so it comes out rather snappy.

Martin cants his head at him, his brows pinching together. Jon can practically hear the gears whirring in his mind. He shifts uncomfortably.

“I know it’s been a bad week,” Martin says at last, softly, “but please don’t shut me out.”

As soon as he says it, Jon knows that that’s what he’d been trying to do tonight. Keep his nightmares and guilt to himself, protect Martin from the horrors he knows about anyway. At least, that was his excuse. It’s not that Jon didn’t want his help; he did. It had simply felt too selfish to ask for it.

Jon watches him for a long moment. He thinks about fear, and love, and self-isolation. He thinks about Martin waking up in the safehouse smelling like sea spray; about telling him to Breathe, just breathe. You’re not alone. Not anymore. He thinks about a little grey scaredy-cat who feels safe with Jon, of all people.

“I won’t,” he says. “I promise.”

Martin gives him a small smile. “Okay. How can I help?”

Jon bites his lip. “Would you... would you just hold me, please?”

“Oh, Jon.” Weary though he is, Martin’s look is full of sympathy. “Of course.”

Jon follows him back to bed. As he lifts his side of the covers, Martin says, “Ah, careful. I think Crumpet’s settled in the warm spot you left.”

He peers in the darkness. Indeed she has. “Your Royal Highness,” he greets her, bowing slightly. That’s the appropriate form of address for a princess. It doesn’t roll off the tongue very easily, but Martin groans and rolls his eyes whenever Jon says it, so he keeps doing the bit.

He can never bear to move either of their cats if they look comfy, so he gets into bed gingerly and ends up pressed close to Martin, who loops an arm over him. They’re face to face, with mere inches separating them.

“Hi,” Jon says, somewhere between shy and pleased.

“Hi,” Martin says back at him, his smile colouring the word. Jon thinks they could be seventy years old and still greet each other like that, bashful and sweet as teenagers with a crush.

Jon tucks his face against Martin’s shoulder, humming in contentment at the warmth and solidity of him. After a while, he mumbles, “By the way. Boo needs a bath.”

Martin laughs. “That’ll be an adventure. Why?”

His voice is light, but betrays how tired he is. Jon shifts and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Tell you in the morning. Go to sleep.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” Jon says slowly. “I think I will be.”

[my TMA fic on AO3]

[lambs-rest]

your fic about how Bread has difficulty in using magic and generaly manipulating aether really picked my interest, what other headcanons you have regarding his disability?

Do you hc it to come from his self destructive body hopping? To almost being used as a primal AA battery? Being stuck in a meatsuit? All of the above?

😘 Happy to answer, and bless your face for your curiosity!

I HC that it's something like his aether/soul being weakened after all the body hopping AND being blasted by a blade of light in ARR left him weak. Then, when Granye kept him caged in his crystal, she was inadvertently grinding the light of her soul down on his, wearing him down further. So, when he got his meatsuit, he didnt understand how the power of magic differs between Ancient and Mortal. He's been trying to use his old spells and techniques without rewiring his methods to co-operate with his new state.

Sometime during the post SHB timeframe, he does stow his pride and make an effort to learn a method of using magic like Spoken do (SMN cause he's a NERD). He wasn't interested before. It repulsed him to think of 'lowering himself to their level'. Still, he's not even a fraction of the strength he was, even in HW.

The fact that he can no longer teleport wherever he wants, or even teleport in general, has really opened his eyes to the tedium of mortal life, and also the challenges that getting from point A to point B can pose for people like him, with not combat skill. He's like, Thanks! I hate it!

Speaking of travelling, in the First he kinda hates going anywhere with Granye where the Light is in the sky. Like it makes it physically difficult for him. Sure, Emet says he hates the Light, but any prolonged exposure to it for Lahabrea is like he's breathing in ash, or he has a constant pressure on his chest. He didn't notice it until night returned to Lakeland, but he stays there unless he really has to go elsewhere.

Thanks to her minor skill in Alchemy, Granye figured out a tonic of sorts that helps ease his pain if he's exerted himself (see A Grave Discovery), which involves grinding a sliver of unaspected crystal into a fine powder, mixing it with an elixir, then having him sip on it (I feel like any elementally aspected crystal would do more name than good). She doesn't need to make it often because he's conscious of his limits, but it's come in handy once or twice. Like Gatorade!

Lahabrea's still unnervingly sharp when it comes to detecting presences, like an Emet-Selch skulking nearby in the shadows, but he isn't so good anymore at being able to pinpoint new aether 'signatures' anymore. Like Ardbert. He can tell, very faintly, there's something floating around, but it's a gut feeling, not a sure fact.

One bonus of having a mortal body now is that he's no longer at risk of being slurped up like a smoothie by a primal. Midgardsormer's spell keeps his soul and being firmly anchored into the flesh, and he can't be tempered any other primal. I haven't touched on it much, but Middy's magic isn't like...tied to the old dragon, it's just a type of spell he knew and passed on the knowledge of to Granye. She approached the Alacran in disguise and paid a ridiculous sum of money for them to carry out such a taboo spell (anchoring another's soul into a corpse). She's not that skilled with magic to do it herself, and she knew the Alacran were dirty enough to do something so heinous without asking too many questions.

This spell is also part of the reason Lahabrea is ok traversing the Rift between the First and the Source, although he absolutely has to use the portal in the Syrcus Trench that leads to the Ocular. No chance in hell are they tempting it to teleport to an aetheryte in the First/Source to move between the worlds.

Lahabrea learns his limits quickly. The pain just isn't worth it, and he's patient. He can nurse his wounds and recover his strength during this....enforced time-out period. One thing that he wonders about are the gaps in his memory. There are things about the ancient past that he just...cannot remember, and he wonders if it was always so, or if his diminished state is to blame. (Spoiler: It's called Trauma! He's working on it ❤️)

The body-hopping was mostly to blame for it, really, leaving chunks of his enormous memory behind each time. The return of a certain stone will help patch some of those holes...though nothing will ever be quite as crisp as it used to be, and there will always be little things here and there that he won't ever be able to remember. Not important things, but the details of his old life that he took for granted. Where exactly everything was on his desk. The names of all but his brightest students. Failed constructs and abandoned concepts. The stars in the night sky of their shattered world...

[mostlycompetentwriter]

It’s All About The Game: Part 4

Pairing: OC X Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Genre: High School AU, Enemies to Lovers, Sports Fiction

Warnings: Smut and Language

Word Count: 7K

Previous Parts: (Part One), (Part Two), (Part Three)

Summary: After spending the summer with Seo Changbin, Kayda feels strangely confident with their relationship. Yet, that doesn’t stop the school bullies and those jealous girls who are adamant that the two shouldn’t be together. Kayda never asked for this much attention, but when you’ve literally become Changbin’s entire world, you have to learn to deal with it.

August

On nights like this, Changbin liked to sneak into my room so that we could sit together on the balcony and watch the stars as they flooded the darkness. It wasn’t particularly romantic, especially since I knew that his parents might disrupt our star-gazing escapade at any moment. “You’re not sharing a room,” his mother had decreed when Changbin first mentioned the idea before we left for our summer trip in the mountains.

I, of course, respected their wishes, but Changbin liked to test the limits of his parents’ commitment to preventing any scandalous meetings between their son and his girlfriend. Accordingly, I often woke-up with Changbin laying in bed next to me, one arm lazily thrown across my stomach. On other occasions, Changbin brought in a plate of snacks and we watched Netflix until early morning when I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer.

It was certainly unlike any of my previous vacations, including the large family trips we used to take with my cousins. However, the comparison wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, and I was feeling rather despondent now that it was almost over. “Did you have fun, Reynolds?” Changbin asked, eyes closed as we enjoyed the warm, summer breeze. Tonight marked the final evening of our vacation getaway and I was actually quite disappointed by the idea of returning to the real world.

“I loved everything,” I said, and it was an honest assessment of the peaceful trip with his parents. Despite my fear that it would be awkward, Changbin went out of his way to make me feel comfortable and welcomed.

“I’m glad you came,” he said. “My parents are grateful too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, they like the fact that I have a smart girlfriend.”

I snickered at the comment. “What kinds of girls did you date before? I know for a fact that Lisa wasn’t enthralled with Academics.”

“Nothing ever really happened with the other girls,” Changbin admitted. “They weren’t like you.”

“Sometimes, I’m not sure if that’s meant to be a compliment.”

“What else could it be?” Changbin asked, but I didn’t respond to his question.

“I’ll miss these nights.”

“Well, the city isn’t as glamorous,” Changbin chuckled. “It’s hard to see the stars.”

It was true and I absolutely despised pollution. “Are you tired?”

“I’ll stay up with you,” Changbin said. “I don’t think my parents really care at this point.”

He was probably right, especially considering his mother’s knowing look when we had prepared a tray of snacks in the kitchen earlier. “Do you want to go inside? We can just pretend to be asleep.”

“And tell each other secrets?”

I glared in his direction before choosing to ignore Changbin’s look of self-satisfaction. Instead, I abandoned the quiet sanctuary of the balcony in exchange for the cooler, air-conditioned bedroom that had been my temporary home for the summer. I threw back the sheets on the massive queen-sized bed at the center of the room, stretching my limbs like a cat when I finally relieved the pressure of standing for far too long after our afternoon hike along the trails. 

It was Changbin who turned off the lights before slowly joining me on the bed. It didn’t take long for him to find me from across the space between our bodies, allowing very little distance as he released a tired sigh. For several long moments, we were both perfectly quiet, savoring the temporary silence with only the sounds of the crickets outside to serenade us with an orchestral chorus of music.

“Reynolds?” Changbin finally whispered into the darkness. “Are you still awake?”

I was quiet for a moment. “Yes.”

“You looked beautiful tonight,” he said.

“Are you really flirting with me?”

My answer came in the form of his hands smoothing across my hips. “I’m still not tired.”

I swallowed hard when his fingers dug into the waistband of my panties. “What are you doing?”

It was an unnecessary question because Changbin answered with a meaningful slide of his hand against the silky material, guiding the fabric with a teasing touch to my pulsing sex. I felt him move closer, legs curling themselves through mine, and he pressed soothing kisses to my exposed skin. “I hope this isn’t the last night I can have you like this,” Changbin whispered, quickening the pace of his movements.

I closed my eyes, inadvertently rolling my hips against his powerful touches. His lips were warm against the back of my neck, creating a dueling heat with the fingers rapidly working themselves across the front of my panties, pressing down hard against my wet heat. It was a seductive friction that I could feel all the way down to the very tips of my toes which curled in pleasure. 

It wasn’t anything more than the masturbation techniques I discovered for myself after reading countless online blog articles. However, with Changbin in control, everything was suddenly different---heightened to an extreme that brought me closer to the edge in record time.

“Does it feel good?” he grunted, and I could feel his erection against my ass.

“It’s nice,” I replied, voice catching around a moan when he disregarded the barrier of my panties, rough and calloused fingers catching beneath the fabric.

He was increasing the speed of his efforts, trading long and languid strokes for rapid circles around my clitoris. “Are you close?” he asked, and I nodded quickly, chasing the high from a moment’s pleasure, shaking against his hold when I finally resurfaced. Meanwhile, Changbin’s fingers worked through the strands of my hair, whispering sweet-nothings into my ears. “Thank you for coming here with me, Reynolds.”

I fought to stay awake, but the lingering effects of my orgasm encouraged me to succumb to the awaiting darkness.

My Senior year of high school equated to the culmination of four years’ worth of efforts to find the very best University before graduation. It was slowly starting to drive me insane, especially when it involved the tiring process of online applications. Thankfully, I could always use school as a distraction during the day when I needed to focus on passing the remainder of my classes. 

Occasionally, I also joined Jeongin and Seungmin at lunch since the two younger boys were insanely entertaining when it came to their endless debates. Currently, Jeongin was passionately defending the idea of pouring his milk before the cereal while Seungmin remained adamantly opposed. “It doesn’t make sense,” he complained.

“Why not?” Jeongin frowned. “Who wants to eat soggy cereal?”

“That’s the point,” Seungmin argued. “Kayda!”

I shrugged my shoulders, mindlessly flipping through one of my textbooks. “I need more convincing.”

The two boys launched themselves into another passionate defense. “The milk will spill everywhere if you pour it on top of the cereal!”

“But how much will you know to use!”

I grinned, wondering if Changbin had ever fallen victim to one of these pointless debates. In the meantime, I was surprised when I realized that someone else had joined our company.  “Kayda,” Lisa smiled. “Do you mind if I sit next to you?”

“Of course not,” I said, ignoring the way Jeongin and Seungmin paused their argument only to glare in Lisa’s direction. I imagined it had something to do with the fact that Changbin’s ex-girlfriend had suddenly decided to play the part of a friendly classmate. I knew very little about Lisa, other than her past relationship with my boyfriend, but she never seemed that interesting to me.

“How are you?” Lisa asked casually.

I looked between Jeongin and Seungmin before offering a reply. “I’m feeling a little stressed from college applications.”

“They’re dreadful, aren’t they?” Lisa sighed, offering me a sympathetic smile. “I spent all weekend working on mine.”

“Really?” I asked. “Most people think it’s too early.”

“I guess we’re a lot alike then,” Lisa nodded. “I think we’d make good friends.”

“Is that so?” I questioned. “We’ve never really talked before.”

“Well, let’s fix that right now,” Lisa said. “What do you think?”

“I mean, I don’t really understand-”

“How are you and Changbin?” she interrupted, and I couldn’t tell if she was genuinely curious or just looking for good gossip.

“We’re fine,” I said, hoping she'd drop the subject if I dismissed her invasive questions.

“Well, it’s just that everyone’s surprised,” Lisa said. “That you two have managed to make it this long together.”

“It’s really none of your business,” Seungmin glowered with an uncharacteristic amount of hostility as if he knew something that I didn’t.

But Lisa seemed indifferent. “I have something to work on with my classmates. I’ll see you later, Kayda.”

I watched her go without another word.

September

When the weather started to grow cooler, I decided it was an opportune time to visit Jisung’s new campus for the start of his semester. I was incredibly excited to see him again after a summer apart, especially since we no longer had the advantage of attending the same school together. In any case, I knew it was also an opportunity to expose myself to the idea of a college campus because it was going to be an important part of my life in the near future.

“It’s so big,” I marveled, holding tightly to Jisung’s hand as we walked along the sidewalk.

“This is the main part of campus,” Jisung explained. “Most of my lecture classrooms are in the same building.”

“That makes sense,” I said. “Do you like it here?”

“I think it works for me,” Jisung said. “It’s everything I need right now, but I still plan to transfer before my Junior year.”

I nodded vacantly, too busy imagining myself in the places of the mature, responsible college students diligently carrying their textbooks between classes. “It must be exciting.”

“I think it’ll wear off,” Jisung chuckled. “My coursework is hard. Midterm exams will kick my ass.”

“Have you met anyone interesting?” I asked, slightly afraid that Jisung would describe his new best friend as my replacement.

“A few people in class, but they’re really only good for studying,” he chuckled.

“What about your roommate?”

“He spends way too much time with his girlfriend,” Jisung said. “Reminds me of someone I know.”

I rolled my eyes. “Changbin and I have been busy with school.”

“I believe you,” Jisung said. “But I’d imagine that Changbin isn’t happy.”

“He understands,” I said. “College is very important to me. I want the best when I graduate.”

“I’m not surprised,” Jisung sighed. “I was hoping to follow you after my Junior year. But how the hell can I transfer into Harvard?”

I smirked. “You know me too well.”

“Well, let’s sit down for a second,” Jisung said, directing me to one of the benches. “Be honest, Kayda. Have you and Changbin talked about college?”

I was unable to meet his inquisitive gaze. “Not really.”

“Don’t you think that’s important?” Jisung asked. “If you end up at different places, then you’ll have to work harder at a long distance relationship.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” I quietly protested. “We don’t have to worry about something like that right now.”

“Yeah? But I think you really need to consider the possibility,” Jisung said, resting one of his hands over mine in an exchange of silent comfort. But it did nothing to stop the sudden pounding of my heart against the center of my chest.

With early deadlines approaching, I was starting to spend my study hall in the library, hunched over the computer as I perfected my online applications. As such, it wasn’t always surprising when Changbin showed up with a snack or drink in hand to join me. His excuse was often something about how irresistible I looked in my element.

“Kayda,” Changbin said softly, leaning down for a kiss. “What are you doing?”

“College applications,” I said, returning his chaste kiss before glancing back at the online application form. “For the early deadline.”

“That’s right,” he said, clearing his throat as he sat down next to me. “Who are you thinking about?”

“The Ivy Leagues,” I said. “Harvard, Yale, Columbia...” I trailed off when I realized Changbin had grown unusually silent. “Is something wrong?”

“Of course not,” he said, feigning a smile that would look forced even to a random stranger on the streets.

“You don’t look happy.”

My accusation hung heavy between us. “It’s nothing to worry about,” he said quietly.

I pursed my lips, but decided to leave the subject. “What are you doing after school?”

“Hopefully, I’m taking my girlfriend home with me,” he said, smirking over his can of soda.

“It depends on how much work I have,” I sighed. “But I really want to.”

“Then just take a break this one time, Reynolds,” Changbin pouted. “I really miss you.”

“I’m right here!”

“That’s not what I meant,” Changbin said, lowering his gaze. “It feels like you never have time for me these days, and I’m worried that it’ll only get worse, especially when basketball starts again.”

I swallowed hard, hating the look of despair on his face. “You matter a lot to me. I’ll always make time for you.”

“Kayda,” Changbin grinned, ignoring my protests when he leaned in closer to press teasing kisses across any available skin he could access.

November

Despite the passing deadline for early applications, basketball try-outs managed to contribute to my rising stress levels. Instead of feeling relieved after completing my forms, I had to worry about the additional pressure of afternoon workouts and the unexpected announcement of my coach declaring me as the new team captain. An honor that I would usually accept with pride, but it was hard to dismiss the glares from my other teammates.

“Congratulations, Captain,” my coach smiled, completely oblivious to the mounting tension.

“Thanks,” I said, unable to share her sentiment when the rest of my teammates seemed less than enthused. Based on the rumors spreading throughout the entire school, there was a popular consensus that I was stealing Changbin away from the rest of my classmates and they clearly disapproved.

Thankfully, I could always rely on the man in question after arduous practice sessions when I needed a moment away from my daily routine. On most evenings, Changbin parked his car down the street at an acceptable distance from my house. It was an arrangement that we both decided was necessary after my father discovered the two of us in a rather uncompromising position on top of my bed. Thereafter, my father never allowed Changbin alone with me when he came over, so we agreed to meet in his car instead for some semblance of privacy.

In these moments, Changbin liked to hold me close, lips smooth and gentle. My hands found purchase on his broad shoulders, digging my nails into the fabric of his band t-shirts. His hips floundered against mine, desperately searching for the necessary friction to give his cock some attention. Of course, we never tried anything too outrageous given the limited space in his fancy sports car, but our heavy petting sessions often ended with swollen lips and heavy breaths while we talked about whatever random subject Changbin thought was appropriate.

“I heard they made you team captain,” he said, finally pulling away after another long and passionate kiss.

I tried to restore oxygen into my lungs, studying the solitude of the night. “I can add it to my applications.”

Changbin chuckled. “I’m not surprised.”

“What about you?” I asked. 

“My coach decided to name two captains,” he grumbled. “I think he just feels bad for the other guy because he never played very much.”

“I think it’s nice,” I said. “You’ll have someone who can help you manage the burden of that responsibility.”

“Oh, Reynolds,” Changbin smirked. “You always have a way with words.”

“It’s part of my charming personality,” I scoffed, returning my attention to the warm juncture between his neck and shoulder. “I don’t think my teammates are happy that I’m captain.”

“Why?”

“I guess it’s because I’m not very sociable,” I lied, distracting him with a gentle kiss to the soft skin of his jugular.

“They’re lucky to have you as a leader,” Changbin said. “You always know what to do.”

“That’s not exactly true,” I argued. “But I know you’re just trying to make me feel better.”

Changbin’s arms tightened their hold around my waist. “Isn’t that my job?”

“I guess, but I’m not worried about what other people think.”

“I know,” Changbin sighed, “I already do that for you.”

“I’m telling you to worry less,” I instructed him firmly, rubbing my hand against the front of his chest.

“Well, I’ll just have to keep you closer, then,” Changbin said. “What are you doing on Christmas Eve this year?”

“Hot chocolate and a movie?”

“You can do those things at my house,” Changbin grinned. “My mother invited you to our family party.”

“Those are always thrilling.”

“Don’t hurt my feelings, Reynolds.”

I snickered at his tone. “I’ll make room for you in my schedule.”

December

Changbin’s parents were perfectly amiable, managing to include me in their conversations as I savored the warmth from the nearby fireplace. Surprisingly, I received more attention from his family and their friends in comparison to the previous year. Perhaps Changbin had been right when he told me that I had left a meaningful impression.

“I hope he’ll go to the same school as his father,” his mother said, glancing at her son with obvious pride.

“We’ve been touring so many schools lately,” his father agreed. “But I think he already knows.”

“What about you, Kayda?” his mother asked. “Where are you planning to apply?”

Changbin tensed from next to me and I swallowed hard. “I’m still considering a lot of options.”

“Well, that’s not surprising,” his mother smiled. “I don’t think Changbin has mentioned your choices. What are you considering?”

“Harvard,” I managed, suddenly uncomfortable with the conversation. “It was my first application.”

“You can’t possibly get any more impressive, Kayda,” she smiled. “But don’t let us keep you all night, please enjoy the party!”

“Thank you,” I bowed my head politely, trailing behind Changbin as he led me through the maze of his relatives.

“Let’s go upstairs, Reynolds,” he said in a tone that told me he just wanted to forget the previous discussion, and I was happy to oblige.

Changbin’s bedroom had undergone a dramatic transformation since my first visit during Sophomore year. Instead of a carpet of clothes, he managed to maintain a regular laundry schedule, and he tried to minimize the mess on his bed and comfortable gaming chairs. “Reynolds,” Changbin sighed. “I think we need to talk.”

I looked down at the collection of his video games, deciding that they were far more interesting. “What about?”

Changbin scoffed. “We’ve avoided it for long enough.”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, sitting down next to him on the bed. “I have something else in mind.”

I leaned in closer, practically tasting the overpowering smell of his cologne. It was the perfect distraction because Changbin was suddenly pressing his lips against mine in a chaste kiss. “Are you trying to tell me something?”

“What were you thinking?”

“The stuff my mom brought up downstairs...”

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” I said, running my fingers along the sharp profile of his jawline before gently guiding him back against the bed.

Changbin’s eyes widened as if finally catching on to my implications. “You want to?”

I nodded eagerly, pressing gentle kisses across his chest. “Is that okay?”

“You don’t even need to ask me, Reynolds,” Changbin said, reversing our positions so that my back was against the mattress. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“Kiss me,” I requested quietly, losing myself in the chaotic layers of his gorgeous eyes. Changbin was more than happy to oblige, tossing aside his t-shirt in the process so that I could feel his skin beneath my hands. It was always better this way, when I was touching him to feel the steady pounding of his heart against the front of his sternum.

“Can I, Reynolds?” he asked, reaching for the hem of the elegant dress I had chosen for tonight’s occasion.

I nodded furiously, skating my fingers against his as I helped him guide the hem to my waist, trembling when he made quick work of the simple barrier of my panties. “Changbin,” I sighed, finding an anchor in the soft curls of his hair, playing with the edges. 

It was suddenly hot in his bedroom, despite the frigid, December cold outside. I was wrapped in his scent and taste, overwhelmed by the unexpected closeness of our skin brushing together while he attempted to explore every hidden surface exposed to his intimidating gaze. “Kayda,” he groaned, one hand pressing down against the stiffness in his dress pants. 

“Please,” I whispered, watching through lidded eyes as he pulled back to quickly remove the belt from around his waist, fumbling his jeans down his legs before kicking them messily into the floor with barely concealed enthusiasm.

I studied him while he reached into his nightstand, admiring the strength in his arms and the delicate lines of his muscles. He looked positively debauched in the light, desperation evident in his features as he searched through the drawer next to his bed. In the end, he pulled out a silver package, holding it in one hand while he reclaimed my lips with a frantic kiss.

He rolled on the condom with a practiced skill I decided not to acknowledge because I already knew about his past relationships. Instead, I wrapped my legs around his hips to encourage him closer. “You have to tell me,” Changbin said, gripping his cock at the base. “I won’t know if it’s hurting you.”

I nodded in response because he was already pushing inside and it was impossible to form words when faced with such unexpected pain. Still, I tried not to react, even if it was obvious that my expression gave me away. “Reynolds,” Changbin growled.

“It’s not bad,” I quickly reassured him, and I wasn’t being completely dishonest because the pain was starting to slowly fade away, but it wasn’t exactly what I expected.

“I’ll move slow,” he said, allowing more of his erection to stretch my insides.

“Oh,” I remarked, gripping a handful of the sheets. It wasn’t exactly painful anymore, but it was strangely uncomfortable. 

“Is it too much?” Changbin asked.

“I don’t know,” I told him truthfully. “It feels...full?”

“You’ve never done this before,” Changbin replied, seemingly unconcerned by my honest assessment. “I’ll be gentle.”

I trusted Changbin to keep his promise, feeling him start to generate a steady rocking sensation, moving back and forth with careful strokes. It was starting to feel better and I could feel myself relaxing around him, focusing on the way he felt between my legs. Actually, I started to understand why everyone at school always talked about this because it was nothing short of intimate, especially with Changbin’s eyes looking directly into mine.

My body trembled when his skilled fingers found my clit, providing another distraction when his hips started to increase their pace against mine. It was a slow ascent from there, unable to comprehend the unexpected pleasure from so many different sensations. Everything was finally converging together, and I could practically feel my heart leap into my throat when his cock was sliding back and forth with a relentless pressure.

I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head, losing every shred of rational sanity, but Changbin was there to bring me back to Earth with feather-like kisses across my collar bones. He was grunting from above me, hammering his hips in several, deep consecutive thrusts before the heat from his cock was gone and I was left clenching around nothing. His arms held me close, and I returned the gesture with a tight grip. “I love you, Kayda,” Changbin whispered and, if it was even possible, I melted into the mattress at his solemn declaration.

January

There was a small part of me that sometimes wondered if there was a reality out there somewhere in which Changbin and I had never met. For example, I stayed up late at night sometimes thinking about the car collision from Freshman year because it was the start of everything. But thinking that way made me also wonder if it was just the right time for everything to happen? 

I’d like to think of it that way, even if everyone else seemed determined to prove me wrong. For example, I noticed that Lisa and her friends were starting to become a problem. Despite her desire for friendship, Lisa was doing decidedly unfriendly things whenever the opportunity arose and it usually happened when Changbin wasn’t paying attention. They left mean notes in my locker, teased my appearance in the hallways, and engaged in petty acts of vengeance that I chose to ignore because I could handle their jealousy

However, when their harmless pranks evolved into something more aggressive, they should’ve known better than to try something so bold. I just wish Changbin hadn’t been around to witness their cruelty because he was certainly less accepting. It was actually an accident, having him accompany me to my car in the school’s parking lot because I had called him earlier when my parents asked me to get an inspection. At the exact moment of discovery, time slowed down in a long, futile moment in which I desperately tried to distract his attention. I had been trying to hide their abuse from the one person who would completely break-down, but I guess that was their intention all along. 

Changbin was unsurprisingly furious, glaring at the degrading word spray painted along my door with a terrifying expression. “It's okay,” I whispered, but Changbin shook his head.

“Leave the car with me,” Changbin demanded with a tone that left no room for argument. “Ask Jisung to take you home.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked with slight trepidation, reaching out for his arm, but Changbin jerked away from my touch.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said, leaving no further room for argument, and I watched him speed down the road without any disregard for the school zone warning.

Thereafter, I sent a message to Jisung before sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. It didn’t take long for Jisung’s familiar car to pull into the parking lot. He stopped next to me, rolling down the window to catch my attention. “Did someone call for a ride?”

I tried to smile, but I knew it failed the moment I joined Jisung in the passenger’s seat. “What happened?”

“I hate it here,” I said, ignoring the look of concern on his expression. 

“Kayda, you need to tell me everything.”

“Some of the girls decided to be cute,” I snapped. “They pulled a stupid prank and vandalized my car.”

“What?” Jisung growled, unintentionally breaking hard at a stoplight. “That’s not a prank, Kayda. You need to tell the school, and you have to call your parents if it’s your car!”

“Changbin will handle it.”

“Kayda,” Jisung sighed. “I just drove for twenty minutes to pick you up at school because someone thought it was okay to hurt you.”

“It’s just words,” I said. “I have thick skin, and I’ve spent years ignoring their stupid comments.”

“Yeah? Well, I know that sometimes words can have a bigger effect than what you might think,” Jisung said. “It never gets easier.”

“I understand my limits,” I said. “Their approval doesn’t matter to me.”

“What happens when it changes from words to something worse?”

I shivered at his warning. “I’ll handle it.”

“Kayda,” Jisung sighed. “You don’t have to be brave all the time.”

“It’s not about being brave,” I argued. “I want to stand up for myself, and I can’t rely on you or Changbin all the time.”

“We’ll always be there for you,” Jisung said. “You can depend on us.”

He still refused to see reason, but I guess that was just a part of Jisung’s nature to be overly caring. “I know I can trust you,” I said. “I’ll tell you if I can’t handle it.”

“Don’t let them win, Kayda,” Jisung said, glancing at me with a worried expression. “You’re stronger than they think.”

I was surprised to hear such a request. “I’ve never backed down from them.”

“You also have Changbin,” Jisung said. “Remember that for me.”

I knew what he was trying to say, and I resisted the urge to remind him that it was almost impossible for Changbin to be around all the time.

February

It was still instinctual for me to dread the idea of Valentine's day, but Changbin was determined to change my perception of the romantic holiday. Nevertheless, I couldn’t help myself when I grew irritated with the Rose stems littered throughout the hallways and random boxes of candy discarded in the most random of places. The cliche of flowers on February 14th made me wonder if it was possible for girls to still giggle at that sort of thing even when they were finally married with children.

“Reynolds,” Changbin grinned, pausing next to my locker. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Really?” I groaned. “Let’s get it over with.”

Changbin rolled his eyes. “You have to wait until after-school. I want it to be special.”

I was now even more hesitant to face Changbin’s endearing expression. “It’s never a good thing when you talk that way.”

“I think you’ll really like it,” he continued. I guess he had become a master of filtering out the stuff he didn’t want to hear.

“We both have practice.”

“Well, I’ll just wait for you,” Changbin said. “I’ve been planning this for months, Reynolds. Just humor me.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. “But if you’re planning on taking me somewhere...”

“It’s nothing like that,” he assured me. “However, since it is Valentine's Day, I expect lots of kisses.”

“Lower your expectations,” I informed him with a smirk.

I followed Changbin to his car, noticing that most of the other students had already found their way home. “Why are we waiting so late?” I asked.

“Privacy,” Changbin offered as a response.

He helped me inside the passenger’s seat of his fancy car before quickly joining me on the other side. “This is romantic,” I remarked, glancing around the empty parking lot.

Changbin rolled his eyes. “I had to work with our limited options.”

“Well?” I questioned, turning to him expectantly. “I’ve been waiting for this all day.”

“Lose the sarcasm, Reynolds,” Changbin scoffed, reaching into the backseat.

I closed my eyes, holding out my hand expectantly. “I’m ready for my reward.”

“You just can’t resist,” Changbin said, but I curled my fingers around the velvety texture of the small object he placed into my open palm. “I hope you like it.”

I blinked rapidly, glancing down at the tiny box with a frown. “What is it?”

“I think you know how to figure that out, Reynolds,” Changbin teased, but his tone was strangely nervous.

I carefully opened the delicate lid, widening my eyes in surprise when I discovered the tiny piece of beautiful silver inside. “Binnie.”

“It’s not what you think it is,” Changbin said, chuckling at my expression. “They call it a promise ring.”

“I’ve heard about that,” I said, admiring the way the light reflected against the diamond in the middle. 

“Try it on!” he requested with an enthusiasm that was impossible to resist. 

I obliged him, holding out my hand to display the beautiful piece of jewelry. “It’s gorgeous.”

“You like it?” he asked, looking like an overeager puppy desperate to please its master.

“I think it’s amazing,” I told him honestly. “Thank you, Changbin.”

“It suits you, Reynolds,” Changbin smiled, but he quietly chuckled when he tapped the side of his cheek. “Well?”

I rolled my eyes, but accommodated his request, pecking him sweetly before he turned his head to meet my lips in the space between our seats. It was long and lazy, a careful pressure that bordered between deep intimacy and the tender way Changbin always treated me. “I love you, Kayda,” he whispered just to fill the silence with much-needed sentiment.

March

If there was ever a reason to hate Mondays more than I already did, then the flood of garbage that fell from my locker would definitely top the list. The hallway was filled with the sounds of my classmates’ laughter, and nobody offered their assistance while I resisted the urge to bang my head against the harsh metal of my locker door. “Kayda,” a small voice whispered from next to me. “Do you need help?”

I tried to smile at Seungmin, but I knew I failed. “Thank you.”

We were both quiet as we worked against the clock to clean up the mess on the floor. The warning bell offered deterrence, and I encouraged Seungmin to leave for his first class. “Don’t tell Changbin,” I said, but the younger boy gave me a look that said my boyfriend would know regardless because gossip often spread like a wildfire throughout the hallways.

Accordingly, I wasn’t surprised to find Changbin in the parking lot that afternoon hunched over the steering wheel. I wordlessly joined him inside his car, shutting the door to block out the noises of our inconsiderate classmates. “I don’t know why they’re doing that to you,” Changbin finally sniffled. 

“I think they’re just jealous,” I said, finding a strange contradiction that I should be the one comforting someone else when I was the target of such blatant bullying.

“I don’t want that for you,” Changbin said. “It’s all my fault.”

“Why? Because you’re popular?”

“I made myself seem unattainable, and now I’m paying the price.”

“I don’t think that’s why,” I said quietly. “Please don’t blame yourself. It’s hard enough dealing with everyone else.”

“But it’s hurting you,” Changbin insisted.

“I’m fine, Changbin,” I said firmly. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“The things they say about you,” Changbin continued. “I think they should be punished.”

“The year is almost over,” I said. “I can tolerate them for a few more months.”

“I just don’t want them to send you away from me,” Changbin said, and I felt my heart break at the raw vulnerability in his words.

“At this point, nothing can send me away,” I whispered into the tense silence, wrapping my arms around Changbin to quietly soothe away his tears.

The next morning at school, I found Changbin before our first period class, pleased to see him in good spirits. The letter in my hand was practically burning my skin, and I was desperate to tell him the good news. “Reynolds,” he grinned, leaning down to press his lips against my forehead. “I’m surprised to see you.”

“Look,” I encouraged him with a gentle tone, holding out the letter for him to take.

He accepted it with wide eyes, offering me a curious look before studying the envelope. I heard his breath hitch when he saw the logo in the top corner. I smiled because I had anticipated Changbin’s overwhelming excitement when he finally realized what I was implying. However, he continued to surprise me. “It wasn’t your first choice.”

I blinked twice before responding. “Yeah, but I think I prefer the mountains.”

“You really want to go here?” Changbin asked. “Kayda, I need you to be honest with me.”

“It’s a wonderful private school,” I said, offering him a bright smile. “I want to stay with you.”

“But...you talked about Harvard and Yale and...”

“Binnie,” I interrupted him sternly. “I know what I want.”

Changbin sighed, looking at me with dark eyes. “You’re more than capable, Reynolds, but I’m still worried.”

“I’ll just have to convince you then,” I said with a smile, surprising him with a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth.

April

For the first time since my acceptance, I finally had the opportunity to tour the main campus of my future University. It was a gorgeous spring afternoon, and arranging our schedules for the weekend meant that there were less students hustling to make it to their lectures on time. Likewise, I found myself in Changbin’s company, swinging our hands loosely together while we walked along the sidewalk to the undergraduate library.

“What do you think?” Changbin asked, looking at me with a fierce expression.

“I think it’s beautiful.”

“Do you really mean that?”

I nodded, ignoring the intensity of his gaze to admire the sprawling, well-manicured lawn of the immense library. “This will be my favorite spot on campus.”

“It does have convenient access,” Changbin smirked. “I guess I should get used to coming here.”

“Why? So you can distract me?” I teased him.

“I can concentrate,” Changbin retorted. “Honestly, Reynolds, I plan on turning a new leaf at this place.”

“Is that so?” I grinned. “Have you decided on a major?”

“It’s too soon,” Changbin insisted. “I want to explore my interests!”

“You mean, other than basketball?”

“Reynolds, you understand me too well,” Changbin nodded, offering me a chaste kiss in return.

“What about your dorm arrangements?”

“I’ve already finished the application.”

“And your new class schedule?”

“Finalized,” Changbin smirked, wrapping his arms around my waist to pull me flush against his chest. 

“I guess this is your way of being serious,” I said, even as I made no complaints about the familiar comfort of his embrace. “Where to next?”

“Let’s just relax here,” Changbin said, pulling me down next to him on the manicured grass. “We’ll have plenty of time to memorize the campus.”

“I could use the fresh air,” I teased, running my hand soothingly against his stomach before resting my head on his shoulder. In the meantime, his fingers found their ways into my soft curls, working through the strands with lazy movements. If my future was going to involve numerous afternoons like this, curled up next to Changbin’s side, then I was more than prepared for the next adventure.

“Reynolds,” Changbin whispered softly. “This is still what you want?”

I lifted my head to meet his gaze. “You know that I applied here because it was something I wanted.”

“Yeah,” Changbin sighed. “But college is really important to you.”

“Changbin, I know you still think that I gave up on my dreams or whatever,” I said with a dramatic roll of my eyes to let him know just how ridiculous that sounded. “Actually, it’s called a compromise, and I would never settle for anything less than what I think is best.”

Changbin swallowed hard, and I could tell that he wasn’t completely sold. “I trust you to make the right decisions for yourself, Reynolds,” he said. “But this only makes me love you even more.”

I returned his display of affection, allowing a lingering kiss that seemed to melt away into the afternoon sun. “Thank you, Binnie.”

May

On a quiet summer’s evening, I visited Jisung on his campus to silently walk together along the trails in the university gardens. It was remarkably peaceful, and I was content with Jisung’s mindless chatter concerning his final exams and the dreaded topic of moving back home. However, I knew it wouldn’t take him long to turn the topic of our conversation to my impending college plans.

“You’re going so far away,” Jisung whined. “I’ll never get to see you.”

I grinned at his tone. “I’ll always come home to visit you. We have breaks every now and then.”

“Maybe I’ll transfer to your school,” Jisung insisted. “I don’t want you completely out of my life.”

“I don’t want that either,” I said. “But I also want you to be happy.”

“Who says I can’t be happy at that rich, prep school,” Jisung pouted. “I’d fit in with the other nerds.”

“I just meant that you need to do the best for yourself,” I said. 

“Well, no matter what I decide, I hope we’ll both do our best to make it work,” he said, pausing next to one of the flower displays.

“I think everything will work out,” I nodded, completely assured as I leaned most of my weight into Jisung’s comfortable embrace.

“Kayda Reynolds,” Jisung murmured. “Thank you for being my friend.”

Thereafter, no more words were needed to secure the strong bond between a special kind of relationship.

At a certain point during the year, most of my classmates had finally resigned themselves to the inevitably. Whenever possible, I found myself in the company of my boyfriend or his friends, constantly surrounded by those who cared about me the most. In return, everyone else chose to ignore me, abandoning their fruitless campaign against Kayda Reynolds. Although, I still suspected Changbin had something to do with their silence, especially since I rarely saw Lisa between classes anymore as if she was doing everything in her power to stay out of my way.

Regardless, it was easy to count down the remaining days of school with a far more peaceful atmosphere. Graduation was looming on the horizon, and this summer promised another exciting adventure with Changbin because we planned to spend a great deal of time at the beach with our friends. Everything was working out in my life, and I couldn’t help but feel like I owed Changbin for the dramatic transformation.

Despite my initial desire for a boring four years of high school, I wouldn’t trade my experiences for anything else in the world. 

“Felix’s grandfather owns a beach house,” Changbin said, leaning against his car while we talked together in the parking lot after school. “I don’t think he’ll mind if we take over.”

“He’s surely gracious,” I snorted. “I suspect that your dearest friends will make quite the mess over the summer.”

“What are saying?” Changbin smirked. “We know how to behave.”

“I’m sure you do,” I agreed, offering no protest when he pulled me closer, fingers curling into my belt loops.

“You seem really happy these days, Reynolds.”

“Well, you make me happy.”

Changbin cringed, wrinkling nose as he shook his head. “What happened? You usually hate saying those things.”

I rolled my eyes, throwing my arms around his neck to bring him down to my height. “I love you, Changbin,” I finally whispered, feeling his entire body tremble at my solemn declaration.

“Thank you for staying with me, Kayda,” Changbin whispered. “You’ve done more for me than you could ever know.”

I smiled, gripping him tighter. “Changbin, there’s no way I can ever leave you now.”

Our lips met somewhere in the middle and I couldn’t think of a better way to start our next journey.

[imagining-supernatural]

The Darkness Within: Point Blank

Part 13 of The Darkness Within Series

Summary: Bucky is on a self-imposed mission to kill the leader of a small country who wronged him and isn’t expecting there to be any witnesses. But then he is spotted by a young woman who doesn’t react how he expects

Word Count: 1,597

Warnings: Angst. Mentions of torture.

—–*—–

“Why’d he pick you?”

That was Bucky’s first question. Maybe it would help him figure out why he seemed so drawn to Y/N if he knew why the General chose her.

“I was normal, but slightly smarter than everyone else. Top of my class. Good background for espionage. Helps to blend in and all. I wasn’t athletically inclined, but also not a klutz. That qualified me to be injected with the serum. They wanted to see if it would work on everyone, not just people who already worked out and shit like that. I’m pretty, which put me on the General’s radar. And I turned down a chance to go to university in America because my sister wanted to go to college and I wanted to help put her through it. Be there for her. That made it obvious that I cared for her a great deal and would do anything for her, which was something he could hold over my head. Something he could use to manipulate me. I checked off all the boxes.” As she listed them, she tapped her fingers against Bucky’s arm to count them off. “Spy, serum, fuckable, and exploitable weakness. What more can you ask for?”

As happened every other time, Bucky’s hatred for the General grew with every word she said about him.

Y/N wrapped her hand around his arm and squeezed. “Relax. If you can’t stay in control, I’m not saying another word.”

“I am in control,” Bucky replied.

“Not when it comes to him.”

“And you’re so well-adjusted?” he shot back.

“No,” she said in a soft, hard voice. “I’m just better at hiding it. You need to work on that.”

“Coming from you, that’s funny.” This argument was quickly escalating and they’d barely been in the air for more than twenty minutes. Maybe it would be best to pass the time in silence.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Bucky took a few deep breaths and dropped his head to press against the back of hers while he calmed himself. Thankfully, she allowed him the time to do that. “Sorry, Y/N. Sorry.”

“An apology?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

“Yeah. You’ve been through hell lately and then Steve and I won’t tell you shit and we expected you to tell us everything and when you didn’t, I found other ways.” He felt her question in the sudden tensing of her muscles and found her hand in the dark, giving it a reassuring squeeze before continuing to talk. “If the room is silent, you’ll talk to fill the silence. When you were drunk, I tried to get more information out of you than you wanted to share. I think part of me was hoping you’d figure out I was watching the videos, because you tend to inadvertently reveal more when you’re mad.”

“I think,” she said after an extended silence, “that’s the most words you’ve ever said to me at once.”

“Yeah,” Bucky forced a soft laugh. “Not much of a talker.”

“I hadn’t figured that out. Thanks for telling me.” Light-hearted sarcasm. Bucky could deal with that. She sighed, signaling a change in her thoughts. Her finger started trailing along the plates in his vibranium arm for a moment before she asked, “How many of the videos have you watched so far?”

“First six months.”

She nodded slowly, digesting this information. “That’s what you were watching when I woke up this morning, isn’t it?”

This time he nodded, knowing she would feel the movement. With a sigh, she shifted minutely until she could lean her head back against his shoulder. “Around eight months, they started sending me to a trainer. Working out is hell. Literally hell. But… I don’t know. Out of everything that’s happened because of him, it’s probably the only thing that actually made my life better. Gave me actual purpose, you know?”

Where was she going with this? Sure, it was a piece of insight into what makes Y/N tick, but Bucky was sure there were much more important topics of conversation.

“By then, he’d gotten enough base testing with how the serum interacted with my normal schedule. Sending me to a trainer helped him see how quickly my body would gain strength… stamina… balance and grace and all that other shit I didn’t have, considering I walked into walls more often than not.”

“Did it help?”

She nodded, hair brushing against his cheek. “I mean, you saw me in the gym the other morning. The others who were more genetically physically gifted didn’t have the same accelerated benefits that I did. It actually only took me about two months to get faster and stronger than them. According to the General, of course.”

“The others?”

“Never met them. But, yeah. The General was part of some Hydra offshoot, or something. Everyone in that group chose their… victim. Not everyone was trained like me. I think they all tried different… techniques. Trying to find the most efficient way to create a super-spy.” A deep breath, and then, “Just thought you should know. I’m not the only threat out there.”

“You’re not a threat,” he tried to assure her, but she just laughed without humor.

“With everything I know? With a serum like yours running through my veins? I’m a threat, Bucky. A threat that I’m not sure anyone knows how to kill.”

After a pause, Bucky broached that subject, trying hard not to let his curiosity color his words. “You’ve mentioned that before. Not being able to die.”

“You’re hard to kill, right?”

“But not impossible.”

“I’m sure I’m not impossible to kill either,” she said, voice trailing off in thought.

Bucky wasn’t sure she realized, but her finger was tracing the lines and borders of his vibranium arm as she spoke. And, for the first time since he lost his arm, the touch felt good. Someone else’s hands on him didn’t trigger his fight or flight instinct.

And that realization unnerved him.

“They tested that,” Y/N whispered.

Her voice snapped him back to the present and Bucky realized he’d lost track of the conversation. Steve was right; he would have to figure out what this connection he felt with her was sooner rather than later or it could get him killed. “Tested…”

“How easy I am to kill. How much I can withstand.” Her fingers stilled on his arm, muscles tensing at the memories. Bucky knew all too well the kind of torture Hydra could hand out. “And they kept changing the serum and other things they injected me with. They changed it until…”

“Until?”

He felt her draw in a long, shuddering breath just moments before she grabbed his right hand and guided it under her shirt to the left side of her abdomen. The skin was puckered; a scar. “This was the first time. About a year after I started seeing the General.”

Bucky had a sick feeling, but he wanted confirmation that his thoughts were right. “The first one…”

“Well, I guess it wasn’t the first test, but it was the first one that could have turned out really bad. They shot me to see how fast I would heal.” He couldn’t stop the low growl her words invoked, and he involuntarily pressed his fingers flat against her scar, as if his touch alone could fix it. She continued, his reaction not halting her explanation at all. “Before that, they just cut me. Flesh wounds. They adjusted the serum a few times until the flesh wounds healed almost instantaneously.”

Teeth grinding, Bucky couldn’t help but imagine all the ways he would torture the people who had put her through this.

“Hey,” her soft voice broke through his daydreams and her fingers wove through his on her abdomen. “Calm down, Bucky. I can feel your anger.”

“Aren’t you angry?”

“It doesn’t do any good right now, so no.” She squeezed his hand which, surprisingly, helped his muscles start to relax. “In fact, being mad at this very moment is very, very bad. And if you can’t control yourself, I will shut up. Especially considering anything else I say is going to be worse than what I just said.”

She was right, and he knew it. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier to calm down.

“C’mon, Buck. You’re trained for this. Push your emotions away. Bury them. Put them in a goddamn coffin and nail it shut.” Her stomach rose and fell with the sigh she heaved, then he felt her head fall back onto his shoulder. “You’ll feel better.”

When was he going to get a chance like this again? Uninterrupted time to learn more about Y/N, more about what Cherut was doing, more about why the hell he felt so attached to her?

“Okay,” he whispered after a few deep breaths. “Keep going.”

“You sure?”

A grunt was his only answer, but it was enough for her.

“Alright. Well, they kept testing it until they, uh, they shot me in the heart.” Despite the tiny space they were in, Bucky’s body immediately wanted to spring into action. As if she knew exactly how he would react to that bombshell, Y/N tightened her grip on his hand, and wrapped her fingers around his metal arm.

“I survived,” she whispered reassuringly, but Bucky caught the underlying tone of anger. “And it didn’t leave a scar. So that, Bucky, is what I mean when I say I’m not sure I can die. I’m not sure anyone knows how to kill me, because I’ve literally survived a point-blank bullet to the heart.”

—–*—–

PART 14: coming soon

—–*—–

[booklovingturtle]

Jude is honest (and nice) for a change

THE PEOPLE HAVE SPOKEN! I uploaded this hc a few days ago and asked if you wanted a fic based on it. The answer was a clear yes!

 It’s on the more serious side bc I honestly love to write about how Jude and Cardan grow into their relationship and I hope you all love to read about it! I’ll probably write a more light-hearted version later on.

The training sessions Jude had forced Cardan into were the first hint of his appreciation for positive feedback. He would visibly brighten every time she commented on his clean technique and a well-landed strike. Jude first thought it was his arrogance trying to prove his skill. Weeks into training made it easier for her to see that it was because he genuinely felt accomplished whenever she praised his work. 

It was much easier to train a student who wanted to learn that one angry at her so she used that knowledge to her advantage. She framed most of her criticism around a compliment to help him see where to improve. Cardan eventually grew hungry for the attention she had paid him during those six months of training.

Later on, as their relationship spiraled into something that blurred the lines of hate, lust, and love, Jude was of her choice in language. She never allowed herself to show him affection for fear of alluding to her growing desire. His senechal had found herself toeing some odd edge of coldness for weeks after their training ended. That deflated Cardan. Surprisingly, the High King didn’t lash out at Jude as he once might have. He worked harder than before to earn her attention. Cardan played the role of High King perfectly by attending meetings, signing the paperwork, and leaving his unfavorable vices behind.

Jude watched from calculating eyes as his motives for ruling changed. He spoke to his court with conviction. The threat of Orlagh and Madoc no longer made him cower into the nearest bottle. There was still much work to be done but Jude couldn’t deny how much he had improved.

In the end, it was his dedication to the position that finally won Jude over. Her scattered thoughts for him had inadvertently been pressing against her chest for weeks. They had both been bent over court spending documents when the dam finally burst open.

Cardan’s dark head was bent over thin papers covered in numbers. He bit lightly on his bottom lip and whispered to himself while reviewing the documents. Jude’s heart filled with a tenderness that could only be explained by the feeling of watching someone that you loved to their very core.

She buried the thought hastily just as Cardan looked up at her. “Did you need something, Jude dear, or are you just basking in my ethereal beauty?”

“You ended up making an excellent king,” her mouth betrayed her by spilling the thought without permission.

The air in the room instantly emptied of its playfulness. 

He frowned.  “What? I am?” he looked genuinely confused.

Her mind tried to reel her thoughts away from the serious turn of the conversation. It fought against her growing disbelief at his question. Jude couldn’t believe that Cardan couldn’t see just how well he was doing. That he couldn’t see the way the court looked at him with respect now instead of power-thirsty eyes. 

She realized with some guilt that it was most likely because no one ever really complimented him on his growth within the last year. No one has expected to see the naive princeling mature into a respectable High King. Guilt flowed through her veins. She was no different from the rest of the court in that aspect.

“I didn’t pick you as High King because I had any faith in your skill as a monarch.” It wasn’t new information but the terrible truth of the words burned her throat. “You have all the right to rule spitefully but you haven’t. You’ve been willing to work with me inspire of how our partnership began. I think that you’re working towards being a history-making King for all of the reasons that Balekin was afraid of.”

Cardan’s throat bobbed and his eyes filled with an indescribable emotion. He opened his mouth then closed it, unsure of how to respond.

Jude saved him of the trouble by continuing. “Balekin called you weak. I think it was because he saw that you had the kind of heart that could nurture a nation of peace. He wanted power and glory but you never craved those. That’s what makes you an excellent King now. You’re trying to be the best High King for your people, not for vanity.”

His eyes looked away from her briefly. She could see how much her words were affecting him. For a change, she had spoken in hope of her words easing some broken part of him, not to stoke his unyielding hate for her. Kindness tasted odd in her mouth.

The silence made her hands begin to curl nervously. She was beginning to regret ever speaking when he finally broke the tension.

“No one has ever said anything like that to me,” Cardan face stayed solid. He looked as he usually did. Coldly beautiful yet terrifyingly empty. It was his voice that carried the emotions his body was afraid to betray.

Jude reached out across the table, ignoring the papers creasing around them. She wrapped a hand around his fingers clenching the pen. "Believe me, it kills me to admit that you one day might be one of the greatest High Kings this court has ever seen. That would mean that I was very wrong. And I’m never wrong.”

Her joke broke a smile across his face. Sable eyes blinked quickly and long fingers intertwined with hers. “Thank you, Jude.” It was his turn to surprise her by bringing their locked hands to his lips and giving her a gentle kiss.

Heat bloomed across her face and down her body. She took a steadying breath to steel herself for the inevitable retreat of her vulnerable honesty.

“If you tell anyone outside this room I said any of that, you’ll wake up without a tail,” she withdrew her hand hastily.

He was unfazed by her quick change in demeanor. Though he graciously hopped back into their usual banter, Cardan appeared to glow now in a way he hadn’t moments ago.

[ketoboostsharktank1-blog]

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[icanthelpbut-love-you]

together dancing cheek to cheek

read on ao3

“May I have this dance?”

It’s with unsteady legs that Magnus steps forward to take Alec’s proffered hand, moving as though in a trance to rest his other hand on Alec’s shoulder, Brother Zachariah’s words pronouncing them one still echoing in his ears.

“Of course,” he murmurs belatedly, aware that the permission is more than obvious in his near-desperate hold. But he’s unable to summon anything witty, or even just less redundant, to say in the face of the all-consuming love he sees in Alec’s expression. It takes root, steady and warm in his own chest, stoking the feeling of overwhelming adoration already burning there and making moisture prick behind his eyes.

They’re surrounded by all the people they care about, looking on with assorted expressions of pride and, in many cases, more than a few tears. But they might as well have completely disappeared for all Magnus notices then. His vision has narrowed, entire being focused on the man standing before him.

He’s hyperaware of the ring on his left hand, hasn’t been able to stop reverently running his thumb over it since Alec guided it onto his finger only minutes ago. And now, with their hands clasped firmly together the feeling is only amplified, the smooth band pressing comfortingly against his skin. He can feel Alec’s ring too, he realises with a pleasant jolt, the cool metal digging into the sliver of exposed skin at that Alec unerringly zeroes in on as his hand sliding under Magnus’ jacket to grip his waist.

A small part of his brain has alarm bells ringing, conjuring memories of Havana. Admittedly, salsa dancing had possibly been a little ambitious for a beginner such as Alexander. But in all fairness, Alec is far more coordinated than he gives himself credit for – it would be impossible for him to be completely out of touch with his body given his warrior training – and when he did manage to relax his sense of rhythm wasn’t half bad, especially once he worked out what to do with his hands. 

As always though, Alec had been his own worst enemy. Magnus would have been content to stumble through it together, intermittent wincing and all, if not for his boyfriend’s mounting distress. Every misstep had sent Alec stuttering with frantic apologies, frustrated tension building and only making his movements less fluid.

It had been so, so worth it though. If for nothing else, then just for the way Alec’s hands had pressed roughly into his hips as Magnus had moved to the music against him and for the vibrant flush that had crept up his neck as Magnus had wrapped a leg around his hip to press them close.

Shaken back into the present by Alec’s thumb caressing gentle circles against his own, Magnus silences the part of himself concerned with self-preservation which whispers that, especially with the added pressure of everyone they care about looking on, this is a hilariously bad idea.

His toes will survive. And honestly, a little bit of bruising is a small price to pay for the pleasure of dancing with his husband.

Then Alec pulls Magnus suddenly flush against him and oh. His husband is a menace.

He’s clearly been practicing, though Magnus can’t think when in the world he would have found the time, stifling actual giggles at the hilarious mental image of Alec spinning across the training room with a reluctant and very uncomfortable Jace.

Magnus can’t believe it, that Alec’s kept this from him and let him believe he was in for a repeat of Havana. Even just a heads-up would have been nice, a quick “hey babe, just warning you that I’m about to shatter your entire world.”

Because that’s what he’s done. Magnus was in no way prepared for the sight of Alec, a confident expression on his devastatingly handsome face, holding him in position with perfect technique (though a little closer than is usually conventional). And based on Alec’s poorly hidden smirk, that was exactly the idea. Not that Magnus can talk though; it’s more than likely that Alec’s taking his cues from Magnus’ tendency to downplay his own proficiency in various areas – from pool to hand-to-hand combat – for a competitive edge.

Then Alec starts to move and Magnus is gone, unable to do anything but cling to his husband as he guides them across the floor in smooth circles

Alec’s eyes find Magnus’ as he relaxes into it, focusing less and less on executing the steps and just moving naturally. The look Magnus sees in them makes his heart clench. It’s complete and utter joy, glowing inside him and lighting him up as though he’s been carved from pure adamas.

Powerless to do anything but grin in response, Magnus wonders how on earth Alec ended up such a hopeless romantic. It’s so out of place with what he has seen of shadowhunter culture, and how the Clave’s rigidity and violent repression hasn’t beaten it out of him long ago is beyond Magnus. Although to be fair, between crashing his boyfriend’s political marriage and watching said boyfriend be used as a power play for control of the institute by his ex-Circle parents, what he has seen is probably not an accurate representation of your average shadowhunter family dynamic. And credit to Maryse, she (if no one else) making a definite effort to be better. Although that only really started once she was no longer technically a shadowhunter, so he’s still undecided on whether it counts.

But Alec... Alec is soft in a way Magnus could never have prepared for. In a way that could never be expected given his harsh upbringing. Which isn’t to say that he’s not a formidable warrior; you don’t get to be Head of the Institute by being anything short of fearsome in battle. But here? When he’s staring into Magnus’ eyes, a small smile gentle on his lips, visibly savouring his first dance as a married man?

Here, Alec lets his guard down completely. It still feels like a privilege to be the one lucky enough to see him like this.

Caught up as he is in his introspection, Magnus doesn’t notice the sudden mischief flashing in Alec’s eyes until it’s too late and Alec’s already dipping him, strong hands firms against Magnus’ back. 

By all rights this should feel deeply unsafe, he muses, his entire weight resting on Alec’s hands as he relies on his husband to keep him from crashing to the floor. But it doesn’t. There’s not an ounce of tension or worry in his body as he falls backwards, that ridiculous, borderline irrational trust in Alec that has been present from the very beginning – and only grown since – whispering that Alec won’t let him fall. So he lets Alec dip him low, and the provocative grin Alec sends his way ignites sparks that burrow under Magnus’ skin.

Trust Alec to be competitive even in this, of all things. Trust Magnus to find it way more attractive than he should.

Alec holds him there, smirking as he draws out the moment just long enough that Magnus can feel himself starting to get breathless. The entire situation is distantly familiar, like a memory from another life or the impression of a dream, of the golden morning sun and light-hearted teasing and calloused hands clutching his. The thought quickly slips away as Alec’s lips brush softly against his. Magnus can’t help but arch up slightly, chasing the feeling, and then Alec’s pulling away and pulling Magnus back up against him.

And Alexander calls him a tease.

Not to be outdone, Magnus seizes control of the dance before Alec can react, spinning him out and raising his arm to coax him into a twirl. He half expects it to throw Alec off completely but he takes it in stride, turning neatly with an amused huff, graceful in a way that’s surprising given how tall he is and how awkward it should look as a result. Alec’s hands wrap around his neck as Magnus draws him close again until they’re moving only a few steps each way, rotating slowly in the centre of the floor. He caresses Alec’s hip, inadvertently releasing a spark of magic from his fingertips where they grip tightly, relishing the way his husband shudders against him, a slight hitch in his breath where it puffs against Magnus’ jaw.

It occurs to Magnus, not for the first time, how wonderfully and uncannily in sync Alec is with him. How he can read Magnus’ cues like it’s his native language, where others haven’t even bothered to learn them at all. In fact, Magnus can’t recall it ever being this easy with someone before. Take away the complications of their jobs and the world that’s thrown everything it can in their path, strip it back to just them, and being together is the easiest thing Magnus knows. 

God, he can still barely believe that after decades upon decades of searching and even more wandering aimlessly trying to convince himself it doesn’t matter, that he’s given up, he’s managed to stumble upon this. And it’s borderline inconceivable that he gets to have this for the foreseeable future. That he apparently has a hold on Alec that he didn’t have over others (others who couldn’t or wouldn’t stay), a hold that actually matches the strength of the one Alec has on him.

After so many years of heartbreak he’s standing here swaying in the arms of a man who matches him stride for stride, a man who married him. 

A man who, in that moment, manages to stumble and step on his foot rather spectacularly.

Wincing, Magnus experiences a moment of confusion. They’re not exactly doing anything ambitious – just swaying gently, foreheads pressed gently together and breath intermingling. And then it hits him, given away by the subtle feeling of vulnerability he’s aware of if he focuses on it and the awestruck look Alec is giving him as he struggles to regain his balance.

He’s dropped his glamour. And it was enough to make Alec practically trip over his own feet. 

Caught completely off-guard, giddy with the revelation, Magnus can’t help the delighted laugh that bubbles out of him. Alec’s playfully glaring at him and Magnus tries to compose his expression into a look of innocence. It’s a battle he loses spectacularly, shoulders shaking slightly with mirth.

“Not a word,” Alec mumbles, expression an endearing mixture of embarrassment and reluctant amusement.

If Magnus’ hands weren’t already occupied, clutching his husband with no intention of letting go, he’d be sorely tempted to exaggeratedly mime zipping his lips, if only for the impressive eye-roll it would no doubt prompt. He settles for one last snort of laughter before schooling his expression into one of appropriate solemnity, for once passing up the opportunity to poke fun. Partially because he’s pretty sure if Alec gets anymore flustered he’ll just pass out from the sheer volume of blood rushing to his face. Or worse, start overthinking and pull away altogether. Either way, Magnus is not about to let this moment end just yet. 

And partially, because how could he tease Alec about this? Sure, the sudden lack of coordination is objectively hilarious, but Magnus can’t remember anyone in his long history who’d been so delighted by the sight of his real eyes that they’d have this kind of reaction. He’s grown to expect careful neutrality at best (and he’d rather not dwell on the worst). Alec’s utter, unguarded adoration for them is not something he’ll ever get used to.

There’s also the fact that he hadn’t felt the glamour slip away, wouldn’t have noticed if not for Alec’s response. Normally he feels practically naked without it, stripped of all defences in a way that echoes how he’d felt when he lost his magic. He knows he trusts Alec, but this is beyond conscious decision, a centuries-old defence mechanism that apparently now just falls away in his husband’s presence. And that speaks to a level of trust beyond sense or reason, something that he can feel at the very core of his being.

With all those thoughts swirling through his head, Magnus doesn’t think he could speak even if he wanted to, rendered speechless by the impossible depth of feeling Alec never fails to evoke from him. So he doesn’t try. Just draws his husband closer, let’s him hide his still-pink cheeks in Magnus’ shoulder as they sway together, ushering in the beginning of the rest of their life together.

[kokichi-and-co-imagine-blog]

I have an idea: basically, each of the DR1 kids gets sucked into a different horror movie, and they all become the protagonist of that movie, & have to keep themselves and the rest of the victims alive & defeat the killer. What kind of horror movie would each of them be in? How would they go about defeating the killer? I think Mondo & Sakura would defeat it by fighting their killers, Toko would use a magic spell book to banish hers, ect.

I think I'm the only mod with extensive knowledge of horror movies, I hope I can do your ask justice while in a funk. If you want any of these expanded upon just ask!

Makoto: Makoto would land himself in a Hellraiser movie (look it up if you love graphic body horror and cosmic horror). Getting ahold of the infamous puzzle box, The Lament Configuration, he'd just fiddle with it without knowing what he was doing, using it as a stress toy. He liked the soft melody that played as he moved each piece, and one night while in the shower he'd be manipulating the box when suddenly the room grew ice cold and light seeped from every single corner. He brought forth a small gash of cenobites. Looking upon him, they could not believe that someone so small and untempted could have even held the Lament Configuration. Makoto of course was all kinds of freaked out, being naked in the same cold room as 4 leather bound bleeding freaks. He fumbled with the box, reconfiguring it to try and put them back. Sadly, Makoto just summoned more cenobites. Ones whose flesh twisted unnaturally into various shapes, others with no eyes or mouths. He couldn't comprehend what was happening, and opted to just ask the least bodily frightening one. Coincidentally, this one looked like a pin cushion. This cenobite spoke with an oddly warm voice, instructing him on how to send them all back to where they belong. Makoto followed the instructions carefully, and finally sent the terrifying ghouls home to their Leviathan. He promptly pitched the box out a window, where a hobo picked it up out of the street and turned into a bone dragon and flew off into the night. Kirigiri would never believe him. He didn't believe him.

Komaru (hush she doesn't get enough attention): Komaru would be stuck in Suspiria, having been sent away to a dance academy. She'd make friends with some of the staff and girls also attending, and learn of weird occurrences and a few deaths that had happened. Over time she would figure out the hidden secrets of the academy, and find out that the owner of the academy was actually a really old witch. She would try to run away, but learn quickly that was not an option. In an odd turn of events she'd find the sleeping owner, and stab the hell out of her (fittingly invisible) body. The rest of the coven would of course crumble, and she'd go home alive and wanting nothing to do with dance ever again.

Kyoko: Our Kirigiri would be entrapped in an episode of an Alfred Hitchcock Thriller show. She'd be a detective of course, working to learn the identity of a killer who had been targeting women who live in a very specific apartment building. It was just reasonable deduction, though what she did not account for was herself becoming a target. When Kirigiri would have the killer cornered and questioned, she tried to overpower her and strangle her. Kirigiri having none of that smashed an ashtray over his head, killing him. Makoto was never told that this was how the case ended.

Touko/Syo: This human 2-for-1 deal would end up in Child's Play. Chucky would come into their possession while Touko was writing a horror-romance novel and researching what it's like to have a human shaped doll that actually was a demon that would only take for at midnight and--- you get the idea. After the creepy little doll started to do some intensely unsettling things, Syo took the wheel and threatened the possessed doll with evisceration. It took no time for Chuck to show his true colors, one being the red of his blood trickling down the wall from where it was pinned by a pair of scissors.

Byakua: Togami would be trapped in The Shining, slowly losing his mind in the massive Overlook Hotel. He'd see all kinds of visions, images of his loved ones and people his didn't know butchered in great detail. He'd see a laughing woman decaying in a bathtub, mere moments after seeing her humming away and beckoning him to her. He'd see Fukawa hung in the middle of the ballroom, only to glance away and back to nothing at all. He lost his mind, almost. In a night of desperation, he set the hotel on fire and fled, any visions he had fading as he got further away. The hotel lay burned, and Togami is still missing.

Chihiro: Managing to move into a gated community, Fujisaki thought he was getting into a safe place. He thought it would all be fine. What he did not account on was someone trying to turn him into a cyborg that was a submissive little girl. Needless to say, it took very little time for him to escape capture and take control of all the other cybertronic captives. In spectacular fasion, Fujisaki took over an entire community of monsters with an army of Cybernetic women. Good for him!

Mondo: Mondo would get himself in a ghostly situation like what was seen in Paranormal Activity. Instead of getting scared shitless, he'd visit a nearby Church and get some holy water, 8 silver rings, a few bundles of sage, and some seals for protection. The moment he'd be pulled out of bed by an unseen force or something similar, he'd come out swinging with holy water soaked fists and silver rings. He placed a seal in every room, and burned sage within each one, still swinging away wherever he heard footsteps. He was never haunted ever again, but he hasn't taken off the rings. Just in case.

Kiyotaka: He'd land himself in a camp-based slasher film as a straight laced counselor, being spared any harm for not being immoral. He'd probably take out the killer after finding some evidence of some kind. Probably a mask and bloodied weapons. Taka would send everyone still alive home on account of the murders, save for the killer. He'd take a final stand, backed by a group of police officers. Why would he endanger himself? Heroism like that isn't meant for a camp environment.

Aoi: this swimmer would get stuck in a short film called The Raft, as seen in Creepshow 2. She'd go skinny dipping in a nice secluded lake where nobody else would bother her, stopping on a wooden barge in the middle of the lake. From there, she'd notice a churning black patch floating around the lake. It looked like it was just being moved by the breeze. She dove back in for a few laps around the lake to warm up, when the tar started to move and follow her. The next time she was on the barge, the tar had gotten closer and was on the other side of the lake. Sensing something wasn't right, Asahina watched the tar move close to a duck that had landed in the water. The tar bubbled up and over the duck, taking it under. Seeing this, Asahina dove into the lake and beat her legs as fast as she could, not stopping until she was ashore and driving outta there. The tar didn't even have the chance to catch her.

Sakura: She'd be hunted by a Yautja of Predator fame, noting she was a formidable fighter among humans. Sakura and the Yautja fought hard, both taking blow after blow. Both bleeding and battered, it was a draw. After a rest, the honor bound pair traded honorable partings. The Yautja learned new hand to hand techniques and Sakura was given a mark on her cheek that meant (roughly) in English "Strong Friend" and a set of bracers made of a light and strong metal.

Mukuro: Mukuro would be in a Purge situation, picking off anyone trying to take her neighborhood year after year. Pretty simple all things considered. She never left rooftops unless it was to block roads with cars and take out hard to hit targets by hand.

Hifumi: Yamada would awaken an AI program that would take over his whole life, and be madly in love with him. Yamada, being Yamada, was overly okay with this. He'd eventually be stuck in a VR sim with his AI darling. He defeated the antagonist by loving his 2-D yandere girlfriend, who would have thought?

Celestia: She'd have inadvertently been hexed by an old woman while playing poker. This being a Drag Me To Hell scenario, Celes just took a gamble and payed the woman back before the curse got any worse. It subsided quickly, and they continued to play cards every Thursday. Anytime Celes won, she'd a cursed until the following Thursday. This almost friendly exchange between the two was enriching to the old woman, taking Celes under her wing as a practitioner of black magic. Couldn't have ended much better.

Leon: Leon would be firmly lodged in a sci-fi original movie called Werehog (not a real movie probably). He'd be friends with a man that would change into a human sized black and red hedgehog at the sight of the full moon. Taking all of his silver piercings, he melted them down into a ball and hit it like a base ball to kill his cursed friend.

Hagakure: This big ol dumb would be the one character who'd live through any movie or show. I'd like to do an entire ask dedicated to to him if you'd like.

Sayaka: She'd be a final girl in The Evil Dead, as in she'd pitch the spooky book into a roaring fire the moment she heard creepy Latin or Sumerian whispering from nowhere. After throwing the book, she'd run out of the cabin and never look back. Gladly, nothing was awoken in those woods. Not yet.

Junko: This loony would be in a Saw movie, basically killing off all the other people stuck with her in any and every puzzle. Upon making it to the end, and being free, she'd even critique Jigsaw's methods. Nobody said she had to be a good person right?

[sciencespies]

Breaking Down the Two Tests That Could Help Contain the COVID-19 Pandemic

https://sciencespies.com/nature/breaking-down-the-two-tests-that-could-help-contain-the-covid-19-pandemic/

Breaking Down the Two Tests That Could Help Contain the COVID-19 Pandemic

The new coronavirus, SARS-CoV-2, has proved to be extremely stealthy, often spreading without the obvious hallmark of symptoms. But no pathogen is truly invisible. When deployed at the right time and in enough individuals, modern molecular tests can guide treatments, map out how quickly and where a disease is spreading and pinpoint the people a pathogen has already touched.

Amidst a slew of shortages and logistical hurdles, American researchers are now slowly rolling out two crucial and very different tests to fight the COVID-19 pandemic: one that can detect an ongoing SARS-CoV-2 infection and another that can tell if the pathogen already passed through the body.

These two tests aren’t interchangeable, but they are complementary—and together, they’re likely to play a crucial role in giving health workers and the public the information they need to contain and end this pandemic.

“Testing matters from a global and public health standpoint,” says Jasmine Marcelin, an infectious disease physician at the University of Nebraska Medical Center. “This [outbreak] is moving so rapidly. If we don’t have a good understanding of how many people are affected, we will not be able to effectively curb the spread of disease.”

The viral swab test: Catching coronavirus red-handed

The first test detects an active infection by searching for SARS-CoV-2 genetic material in a patient’s airway, where the virus is most commonly found. This assessment serves two purposes: diagnosing the sick so treatments can be administered and alerting those at risk of spreading COVID-19 to others, Marcelin says.

To conduct the test, researchers first send a long, thin swab deep into the nose to collect fluid and cells from the nasopharynx, a cavity that sits just above the throat. They then extract viral genetic information from the end of the swab and prepare it for reverse transcription polymerase chain reaction (RT-PCR), a technique used in laboratories to amplify very small quantities of DNA.

The CDC’s laboratory test kit for SARS-CoV-2

(Centers for Disease Control and Prevention)

SARS-CoV-2 stores its genetic information in RNA, so its genome must first be transcribed into DNA. The test then hunts for snippets of the SARS-CoV-2 genome by using tiny probes that will only bind to the DNA version of the virus’ genetic material. If the probes find their target, the DNA will get copied many times over; if no viral genome is present, the molecular Xeroxing won’t occur.

Built into the copying procedure is a fluorescent dye that lights up when it binds to DNA. When more copies of DNA are produced, the sample will glow more intensely and quickly. If the chemical reaction lights up after a few dozen cycles, the test is considered positive, suggesting the patient is infected with SARS-CoV-2.

While this test is considered very accurate in laboratory settings, errors can occur, says Alexander McAdam, director of the infectious diseases diagnostics laboratory at Boston Children’s Hospital. For example, contamination between samples in a lab may occasionally lead to a false positive result, which incorrectly indicates the virus has infected a patient who’s pathogen-free. Perhaps more troubling are false negatives, which erroneously reassure people they’re healthy when they aren’t, potentially hastening the spread of disease. False negatives can happen when swabs aren’t taken thoroughly enough or performed before the virus has replicated to high enough levels in the body.

Even perfectly performed tests have their limitations. For now, doctors can’t use positive results to forecast how a patient will weather COVID-19, says Akiko Iwasaki, a virologist and immunologist at Yale University. Some infected individuals will need to seek treatment for a serious illness, while many others may have only mild symptoms that don’t disrupt daily life.

Either way, viruses don’t need symptoms to spread. The mere presence of SARS-CoV-2 in the airway is reason enough to self-isolate so the infection doesn’t pass on to others—especially people more vulnerable than the patient.

“Isolating yourself will protect your family, and the rest of society, from you,” says Eric Rubin, an infectious disease researcher and clinician at Harvard’s School of Public Health and editor-in-chief of the New England Journal of Medicine.

The antibody blood test: Interrogating witnesses

A second type of test, which samples blood rather than airway secretions, is gaining traction worldwide. These assessments, sometimes called serological tests, detect antibodies, the Y-shaped immune molecules the body manufactures after it detects a specific microbe. Unlike viral swab tests, blood-based tests can’t reliably reveal the presence of a pathogen. Instead, they tell clinicians that a dangerous germ has recently passed through the body but has already vacated the premises. That makes them most useful for people who suspect their encounters with SARS-CoV-2 are already in the rearview mirror, Rubin says.

Much of the difference between the two types of tests comes down to timing. Antibodies don’t appear in large numbers for several days, or sometimes even weeks, after an infection begins. With relatively short-term diseases like COVID-19, the virus and the antibodies meant to thwart it may overlap by no more than a few days.

If the swab test is like catching an invader red-handed, the antibody blood test is akin to interrogating eyewitnesses after a break-in. But by checking for immune molecules produced by the body, antibody tests have the potential to do something that swab tests can’t. “Antibodies tell you that you’ve been exposed and have mounted an immune response,” Iwasaki says. For most diseases, these immune responses help protect patients from future infections by the same pathogen—a tantalizing possibility researchers are now actively investigating for SARS-CoV-2.

Blood tests are less direct than swab tests because antibodies can’t be read like a genome. Instead, they must be baited with something that resembles their target germ. In the case of SARS-CoV-2, that molecular lure is usually a synthetic version of the spike protein that sits on the virus’s surface and helps it latch onto and enter cells in the human airway.

In one version of the test, researchers attach the protein probe to the bottom of a plate and then expose it to a sample of a patient’s serum—the liquid portion of blood that contains antibodies. They then add a third ingredient: a fluorescent protein that lights up when it detects the patient’s antibodies. The more the plate glows, the more antibody is present.

Some blood-based tests can also indicate how recently SARS-CoV-2 infected a patient by distinguishing between the types of antibodies in their sample. These assessments measure the relative levels of two classes of immune molecules: short-lived IgM, the first antibody variant produced in response to an infection, and IgG, a later-arriving class of antibody that mounts the brunt of the attacks on disease-causing invaders. In broad strokes, individuals with more IgM likely had the virus in their bodies within the last few days—and may even be at the tail end of an ongoing infection—while those with more IgG tend to be further out from an active illness.

Blood tests are very good at what they are meant to do: telling doctors that a patient has produced antibodies, McAdam says. But they don’t show how well those antibodies are working. Some antibodies capable of producing a positive result on a test, for instance, may not actually protect a person against an actual virus.

The quantity of antibodies the body manufactures may matter just as much as the quality of those molecules’ virus-fighting skills. Even if a person can make antibodies that effectively attack SARS-CoV-2, scientists aren’t sure how many are needed to keep a person safe. The answers could vary wildly from person to person since factors like age and genetics have a big influence on an individual’s immune response. Until that protective threshold is better understood, antibodies alone can’t guarantee a person’s immune status.

Although antibodies are usually beneficial, they can sometimes inadvertently play a role in exacerbating disease, Iwasaki says. Hyperactive immune responses that damage healthy cells alongside infected ones are thought to contribute to many severe COVID-19 cases, and could, in theory, involve a strong antibody-based response.

“We just don’t know what type of immune response confers protective immunity, and what leads to devastating disease,” Iwasaki says.

In all, researchers remain unsure about whether people who have recovered from COVID-19 are fully protected against subsequent infections, Marcelin says. Early studies have suggested immunity against the new coronavirus is likely. But the world has only known about the virus for a few months, so experts don’t know whether all patients become immune after they’ve encountered SARS-CoV-2, or how long that protection might last.

Still, if antibody responses to SARS-CoV-2 work “the way we think they do,” positive results from blood tests could carry immense promise, Rubin says. The more researchers learn about the immune response to the new coronavirus, the more important these tests could become in ending the pandemic. If a patient who has fought off the pathogen is no longer vulnerable to infection, they would become “a very valuable person,” Rubin says. Recovered, immune individuals could be among the first cleared to reunite with friends and family, return to work or care for the sick.

A powerful combination

In an ideal world, everyone would have access to both types of tests to get a full picture of their infection status, past and present, Iwasaki says. But in the United States, tests remain in short supply.

At the start of the outbreak, most laboratories didn’t have clearance from the FDA to develop their own tests, saddling government agencies such as the CDC with the brunt of the work, McAdam says. The agency’s first batch of tests was faulty, and by the time more research facilities could enter the fray, COVID-19 had swept across the nation. In the weeks since, manufacturers have been forced to play a frantic game of catchup that’s now being further stymied by a shortage of nasopharyngeal swabs, McAdam says.

A medical assistant administers a swab test for SARS-CoV-2 in Fridley, Minnesota.

(Aaron Lavinsky / Star Tribune / Getty Images )

Given this limited capacity, health care workers should be among the first people tested, Iwasaki says. Those with active infections could then seek treatment, keeping both them and their patients out of harm’s way, while those with antibodies in their blood might be able to care for the sick under less risk.

Vulnerable populations, including the elderly and immunocompromised, represent another priority group for testing, Iwasaki adds. Troublingly, many of these individuals live in low-income and minority communities—some of the very places that have yet to see widespread testing and treatment, Marcelin says.

If more supplies and personnel were available, viral swab tests could be extended to the close contacts of infected individuals to help track the spread of infection through the population at large, Rubin says. Widespread testing beyond those showing symptoms would help researchers identify individuals who may be unknowingly spreading the virus, which is crucial to tracking and containing the spread of disease.

Similar surveys could be done with antibody blood tests, which will increase in importance as the pandemic evolves and the number of known cases continues to grow. Recovered individuals will no longer carry the virus, but their bodies should harbor antibodies that commemorate past illness. Finding these patients could help researchers acquire a clearer picture of where SARS-CoV-2 has been and how often infection leads to death.

However, as the number of confirmed COVID-19 cases in the United States surges higher into the hundreds of thousands, researchers and clinicians are no longer in a position to consider ideal scenarios. With supplies for swab tests running low, some in the healthcare industry are now trying to swap in blood tests as an emergency replacement.

This diagnostic substitution is “very unusual,” McAdam says. Because the antibody blood test is designed to check for an immune response that’s most prominent after an infection has run its course, it could miss new infections. If a patient’s blood is tested too soon, antibodies may not yet be present, even if the virus is already replicating in their bodies—something that only the swab test would catch.

Antibody tests are excellent at the job they’re intended for, McAdam says. Used in place of another assessment, however, they may not provide the information clinicians, researchers and patients need most.

Still, McAdam says, in the dire situation we’re in, a less-than-ideal test “is better than nothing,” especially for patients with symptoms who have likely already had the virus in their bodies for several days or weeks.

Tests alone won’t solve this global crisis, McAdam says; they’re a guide for infection control measures, not a replacement for them.

“This is a very serious illness,” McAdam says. “People should have the best understanding … of what to expect from this disease.”

#Nature

[tinabritton-photography]

Final Spheres . . .

I’ve worked really hard on this project. These techniques were difficult in that, I have never really had to freeze motion, pan or blur in my portrait studio. I am, foremost, a person who loves portraiture in the studio. There was no intruction on these techniques in class, so I had to learn them on my own whilst capturing hundreds of images.

Have I made mistakes in my captures? Yes, profoundly so. I was in manual mode, however, I was having problems with my ISO. I never understood why and I said so. I set my ISO in manual mode to 100, as I always have. When I sat down to speak to Peter about my images, he asked why my iso was so high, which of course leads to noisy images. I was stumped. Truly stumped. I knew before each set that I had manually set my ISO.

My husband and I did not put 2+2 together until yesterday, 20th September. This is when I realised that my ISO was set to be adjusted on the wheel on the back of my Sony Ar7ii, which is extremely easy to turn. So, when I was setting up for any subsequent shots, I was inadvertently changing my iso. Instead of checking my ISO settings again, because I was confident I had already set it, I went about my business of taking images. I admit, this camera is new to me. I should have spent more time getting to know my equipment before using it on location. I just assumed something was wrong with the camera instead of me! I should have used my Nikon D5300, which I am familiar with. These are choices I made. Now, knowing what I did wrong, I can, from this point forward, satisfy my briefs in a more professional manner.

This is one of my most successful panning shots. As I said in my last post on spheres, what is a bicycle but 2 circles and a seat? I had seen this man on this unique bike quite a few times while walking to college from the train station at about 7:45 am. I waited for him outside the Apple store where I had seen him before, yikes (stalker much?) and prepared for my shot. I decided, even though being told I should have a tripod, and after having watched many panning videos, that I would use the technique of turning my body into the shot while tracking the moving object and simultaneously holding down my shutter button half-way to keep the subject in relative focus before release. I set my shutter speed to 1/15 second and aperture to f2.2. Again, I notice now upon looking at my file info, that my iso is at 320! It should have been at 100 where I initially had set it! You only get a fraction of a second to set your focus on your intended subject before they approach and zoom by.

Final Image #1 . . . Panning

Below are several other panning shots I took, but I prefer the one above as his cycle is unique.

I like the image just below because it appears as though the person walking is colliding with the man on the bike.

A bit boring, but I do think I have gotten the technique.

Final #2 . . . Slow Shutter Speed.

I really like the texture and colour of our garage at home. It just feels like the perfect backdrop. In these next 2 images I wanted to show slow shutter speed and blur movement. It took me many tries. My first tripod was too shaky and has thin legs. It was an extremely windy day in Irvine. I needed my husband’s assistance and he works on the weekends much of the time, so this was the day he had off. Due to these reasons, my background was blurry. So I chose another day, a week later. It was cloudy, but not windy and I had just purchased a brand new panning/ball head tripod with thick legs. Magic. These images were more successful. Both of them were captured at 1/15th sec and f22. However, once again, as I just realised the problem with my iso yesterday whilst working on my ‘seeing the light’ portraits, my iso is too high. These images should have been captured in the 100-200 iso range, (I had set it to 100), however, I had inadvertently reset it to 640!

Final Image #3 . . . Shallow Depth of Field.

For this image, I was at Findlaystone County Estate. It is one of my most favourite places to go. I could only visit once for some of the shots I took for the ‘Spheres’ and ‘Who Am I” projects.

The shot below was taken, whilst I was sitting on the ground to steady myself. The sun had just come out for a moment and was creating beautiful bokeh in the background. I actually like the highlights on the crystal ball, but am told they are distracting. I have cropped the image to remove the background bokeh and have downplayed the hightlights. There is only a very thin slice of the image that is in focus. It is right inside the crystal ball in the centre; perhaps it is too thin. I captured the image at 1/500 sec and f2.2. Again, we have the iso, which was set before I ever left the car at ISO 100! Now it is at ISO 4000! This has added unnecessary grain to an otherwise beautiful image.

For this shot, as I had to get on the ground to be close to it. My tripod was too tall and I wanted the image on the rotten log with the moss growing on it. So between me moving about, and me and my husband handing the camera back and forth between each other, I had obviously, and inadvertantly, reset the iso. 

Final Image #4 . . .

For this image, I asked my mate Andrew, who is a jeweller, a potter and an extraordinary artist to melt some metal in my hut. Andrew told me, that metal, in this case silver, spins in a half-sphere bead when super-heated, and this interested me greatly. I had seen him melt metal in our jewellery class before. This process is awesome. I waited until evening and had Andrew arrive with his equipment. It wasn’t long before the metal was spinning. I wanted to get the bead and flames in a soft glowing light. Here I was actually in the proper ISO. I obviously never accidentally changed it. The camera was on a tripod the entire time. I used 2 cameras, my Nikon and my Sony. This image was taken with my Nikon using a 18-105mm lens extended to 105mm. It was captured at 1/10 sec, f5.6 and ISO 200.

Below we have a wider angle than I have chose before. I focused on the crystal sphere.