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cuubism · 2 years

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a time of need

Hob’s having what he’d thought would be an easy Sunday, puttering around the house catching up on chores and rest, when the worst headache he’s ever had splits down the middle of his skull.

It’s worse, even, than the time he’d taken an actual cleaver to the forehead, and woken up two days later still unable to see out of one eye. Hob’s hands shake and he barely manages to make it to the couch before he collapses. He shuts his eyes in agony and—

--then he’s in the Dreaming. So fast, between one blink and the next. And he knows, instinctively, that he was called here, by Dream or by the Dreaming itself. But he’s never been called like that, with a call full of such pain.

He staggers to his feet in the throne room. The sky high overhead, usually a placid field of stars, is swirling with red star matter, like the Dreaming has fallen into the heart of a nebula. It casts a crimson sheen over everything.

Lucienne is hurrying towards him, steps clicking sharply on the marble floor. “Hob? You should not be here. Lord Morpheus has closed off the heart of the Dreaming.”

“Trust me, it wasn’t intentional.” Hob takes in the deep creases in her expression as she reaches him. “What’s going on?”

“We are under attack.” She squeezes his arm, imploring. “You must go.”

“Under attack? What, Hell?” Hob remembers Dream mentioning it had happened before.

Lucienne shakes her head. “No. I do not know the details.”

A cavernous boom! echoes through the hall, shaking the walls. Lightning streaks across the sky, jagged scars that leave harsh afterimages in Hob’s vision. He pales at the sound. “Is he taking them on – whoever they are – by himself?”

“The dreams and nightmares are helping as best suits this kind of fight. But you must go.”

Hob shakes his head. “No, he called me for a reason. Where is he?”

“Hob—”

“Lucienne. Please.”

She relents, still troubled. “He is outside the palace gates, I know not precisely where. You will be drawn to the nexus of his power, I am sure.”

That’s good enough for Hob. He runs down the palace steps and across the bridge to the gates, reaching them much faster than he thinks should probably be reasonable, but then again he is in the Dreaming. The gates open to let him out, and then clank shut behind him.

The feeling of power is much stronger out here, as if the palace and its grounds had been held in a protective bubble. Lucienne was right about Dream’s power drawing him in; Hob finds him easily, standing at the bank of a river that seems to now be flowing with lava instead of water, and he’s just— just surrounded by… creatures.

Hob can’t define them any better than creatures, they are amorphous and shifting, claws and teeth and legs and wings emerging then disappearing again. He wonders why they haven’t gone to flank the palace, attack from all sides, before realizing that just as Dream’s power has drawn Hob in, it is also drawing the creatures to him. Making him the only target.

He isn’t carrying a weapon or even wearing armor or anything, and Hob’s heart pounds as he runs to him, and—

A creature leaps for Dream’s throat. Dream reaches into the air – into a dream? – his arm disappearing, yanks, and pulls a ribbon of flames straight through the creature’s body, throwing it out across the landscape. Grass scorches, and the other beasts in the fire’s path screech.

Another is leaping at his back, hundreds of teeth appearing from the shrouded mass of it in midair. Hob’s about to shout a warning, but no need. Dream turns, flings open his coat. The creature barrels in and falls into the swirling galaxies in the lining, its shriek cutting off sharply.

More run for him. Dream disappears into a dream, then reappears seconds later, a good twenty meters from where he’d been.

On the edge of a cliff.

A cliff which the beasts that charge for him hurtle off of, a cliff which was definitely not there before, because Dream brought it with him from the dream, mother of God, how is Hob even supposed to help here at all?

Well, fuck it. He’s got to try, doesn’t he?

As soon as he thinks it, there’s a sword in his hand. Dream doesn’t make note of his presence, but he must know Hob’s there, mustn’t he? Dream called him there, though God knows why.

Regardless, the creatures are so focused on Dream that Hob is able to take out two of them with his blade before they even notice he’s there.

They don’t… die, in the way he’d expect. They sort of scream and explode into dust, drifting off in the wind. He hopes they aren’t just going to reform or something.

“You are creatures of warmth,” Hob hears Dream say, across the field, to the rest of the creatures. It seems like there are more, not less, like they’re multiplying. God. “Please enjoy my warmest hospitality.”

A vicious blizzard descends on them.

Snow whips in wild gusts across the landscape, ice biting Hob’s cheeks. He can’t see Dream very well anymore. He hears a splash and a creature howling, and imagines Dream must have pulled a frozen lake from a dream about ice skating, or perhaps from a nightmare about drowning.

He makes his way towards Dream, determined to stay by him so he has someone at his back, even if that someone is Hob, whose powers here are meager in comparison to Dream’s.

He finds creatures in the snow and slaughters them, all of his sword work from decades past coming back to him. They come at him with fangs and claws and tails bristling with spines, but Hob isn’t afraid. His desperation to keep Dream safe is far more powerful than that.

Irrational, to want to keep Dream safe in the Dreaming. But he feels it all the same.

“This is my realm,” he hears Dream growl from somewhere in the storm, voice reverberating despite the howling wind. “It bends to my wishes. But you? Let us see how you like the dark.”

And he turns off the sun.

The Dreaming is plunged into absolute, pure darkness the likes of which Hob has never seen. There’s no moon, no stars. Hob blinks and throws his hands out, trying to balance.

And then realizes…

He can see.

Somehow. Not with his eyes, quite. But with some kind of direction at the back of his head, like the Dreaming itself is guiding him. Neat, that. Also quite likely to drive him mad if it lasts for any amount of time.

He follows the direction of Dream’s voice and finally gets close enough to see him again. There are still so many damn creatures, where are they even coming from? They are blundering now, in the dark, but must have other senses for they’re still managing to, eventually, turn for Dream. Hob watches him turn the ground beneath a group of them into quicksand. They scream and flail as they sink.

“Do you not tire?” Dream asks, idly. “Do you not relent? That is disappointing, for I tire. Of gravity, in particular.”

The realm turns upside down.

Hob’s feet stay planted on the grass as his brain spins wildly to reorient itself, but the creatures aren’t so lucky. They go tumbling down – or up? – into the air, screaming. Hob wonders if Dream’s just accidentally done the same to the entire realm, but no— looking behind him, he can see the core of the Dreaming, the palace, all the residences, still oriented the same way. Opposite to them. What in--?

Maintaining two sets of opposing gravities at once seems to be costing Dream. His chest heaves. He flips them back over again, pushing his sweaty hair back from his face. The sun pops back up into the sky, too, which is… Hob decides to interrogate it later and just be grateful for the light.

“Dream!” Hob calls, as soon as his dizziness subsides.

Dream spins to him, seeming startled. “Hob?”

So then he didn’t realize Hob was there, at least not consciously. By the time Hob reaches his side, the sword has dissolved from his grasp. “Fuck. That was… insane. Are you okay?”

Dream looks at him, brow furrowed. The rushing winter winds die down as their eyes meet, leaving drifts of snow behind. “Why are you here? You should not be here, it is not safe. I have closed off the heart of the Dreaming. How?”

“You… called me?” Hob says. “I think.”

Dream’s frown deepens. “I do not… recall. Regardless, you must go. The Dreaming is not safe at present.”

“Why? Isn’t the fight over?”

“No.” Dream looks out at the horizon. A wave of sickly, mixed colors is growing there, like oil spreading across the sky. “The real fight has yet to begin.”

“What? What about all those creatures?”

“Those were scouts. Hunting dogs.” Dream huffs. “Their masters thought perhaps they would get lucky and catch me unawares, not have to dirty their hands. Foolish. They will pay for it.”

Hob looks around, horrified, as that oil keeps spreading upward from the horizon. With it, a wave of what Hob can only describe as grayscale follows across the landscape. Color leaches out of everything and disappears. Dream watches this, expression tight but measured, following the arc of the spread.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” Hob asks.

“Let them expend their energy. Color is immaterial, I will restore it later.”

“Lure them into complacency?” Hob guesses, faint.

Dream nods. He looks even more dramatic with no warmth to his skin, all stark black and white lines.

“What are they? The invaders?” Hob asks.

Dream hums. “The closest waking world corollary would be… bacteria. It is a sickness, of sorts. They would infect and devour us.”

Hob means to say something intelligent but what comes out of his mouth is, “Bacteria have hunting dogs?”

“Well, they hardly have teeth of their own,” says Dream.

Hob shakes his head, as if that could possibly help to clear it. “And you’re going to fight these things on your own?”

“My dreams and nightmares are already helping me by letting me pull from them, so that I do not have to create everything from scratch,” says Dream. He watches as the oil spill completes its transit of the sky. The only color now is the swirling above them. “This is not a fight of physical prowess. You must leave.”

“I can’t die, Dream.”

“I would not see your mind shredded on my behalf.”

“Is that going to happen if the Dreaming doesn’t fall?”

Dream frowns. “Not… likely. And the Dreaming will not fall. I will not let it.”

“Then it’s settled,” Hob says.

Dream sighs. “You are monumentally stubborn.”

“That’s what got me this far in the first place. Can’t stop now.”

That pulls a tiny smile from Dream. “No. I suppose not.”

A shudder runs through the landscape, vibrating under Hob’s feet. Then another, like the ground itself is shivering. Hob shifts to maintain his balance, as he might once have on the deck of a ship. Dream doesn’t move at all, like the shivers travel right through him.

The air goes hot, then cold, then blazingly hot again, struggling with itself. The snow around them starts to steam. Dream’s jaw clenches, and the temperature drops violently once again, below freezing. Hob’s breath fogs in the air.

Dream is glaring at the horizon. “Stay present,” he tells Hob, in the tone one might use to call, On your guard!

Never bring a sword to a battle of minds, Hob thinks deliriously. His blade hasn’t rematerialized, and it would be useless anyway. Hob himself feels useless, but like hell will he leave Dream’s side.

“How did they even get in?” he asks.

“The boundaries of the Dreaming are porous to permit the passage of dreamers,” says Dream. “Unsavory things sometimes slip in as well.”

“Often?”

Dream’s eyes glint. “Only when enough time has passed that the folly in doing so has been forgotten.”

It’s in moments like this that Hob really thinks about how old Dream is. It’s easier to conceptualize his age in this way, funnily enough. An ancient lord once again protecting his kingdom from invaders is something Hob’s mind can grasp, even if the timescale in this case is absurdly long.

“Going to teach them a lesson, then?”

Dream smiles, slow and predatory; Hob sees in it the nightmare of every prey animal that has ever dashed through a dark forest, fleeing the gleaming of teeth. “Oh, yes.”

He closes his eyes. His fingers flutter at his side, like he’s plucking the strings of an invisible harp. Snow lifts in swirls around them, though there’s no longer any wind. Another shiver runs through the ground.

“What are you going to do?” Hob asks, at a whisper. He doesn’t know why he whispers; it just seems right in the face of the approaching power storm.

“There are known ways to destroy a waking world bacterium,” Dream says. His eyes are still shut, brow furrowed in concentration. “Burn it out, freeze it out. Take away its sustenance. Make the environment unsustainable for it. But bacteria that feasts on dream matter cannot be destroyed by something as simple as temperature; the temperature is, after all, a part of the Dreaming itself. It can gorge itself on the heat and cold as easily as on anything else.”

“So what will you do, then?” Hob asks.

Dream’s lips quirk up in a smug smile. “I am the Dreaming,” he says, not actually answering the question. “They cannot have me. If they insist on having me, then I will simply not exist at all.”

Before Hob can so much as say wait!, Dream's power screams into being around them more tangibly than Hob’s ever felt it, the air charging up with electricity, the fabric of the realm warbling around them. His ears pop with the pressure change, a whine pitching higher and higher in the atmosphere and making him wince, and Dream’s form fuzzes in and out like TV static.

Dream’s hands rise at his sides like he’s finding his balance in the shifting world around them, or perhaps conducting the dreams in an invisible orchestra. He hums, pleased with whatever he can feel rumbling through his power. Then he presses his hands outward.

Hob… doesn’t know exactly what happens, then.

It’s like everything blinks out, then back on again, like turning on and off a light switch. It’s so quick his body doesn’t even react until several seconds later, when a tremor of unease shivers up his spine. For it wasn’t like before, when Dream had blacked out the sun – Hob would swear that in that millisecond of darkness he felt nothing, not the ground under his feet, or the air he was breathing, or his own clothes against his skin. He’s not even sure he existed in that moment.

Everything around him is exactly the same, except that those threads of oily color circling the sky have disappeared. Just like that, gone, the bacteria dead, or at least banished, and Hob has no idea what Dream even did.

Everything in the Dreaming looks the exact same--

--except Dream.

Dream looks like he tumbled down a cliff then ran ten kilometers through bramble bushes. His hair is falling in clumps over his forehead, his long coat torn, his forehead prickling with sweat. His nose is bleeding, the red of it shockingly bright as color leeches back into the gray landscape, though he pays it no mind as it trickles over his lips. His hands are shaking where he holds them out, fingers now closed into fists.

“Any of you who have survived,” he snarls, glaring up at the sky, presumably speaking to the remaining bacteria, “carry a message home to your people. Enter my realm again, touch a single one of its inhabitants, and I will personally unmake your entire species. Do not test me.”

Is unmaking a species even in Dream’s power? Hob wouldn’t have thought so, but he wouldn’t care to test that theory right now, were he the species in question.

Dream wavers, then, and Hob just barely manages to lurch forward fast enough to catch him as he falls. He goes to his knees in the snow, and Dream collapses against him, shaking horribly. He coughs, a horrible, wet sound, and blood spatters Hob’s shirt.

Hob’s heart jumps into his throat. “ Dream —” He tries to get him down onto his side, but Dream clenches his hands weakly in Hob’s shirt.

“I will be—” he starts, and is cut off by more coughing, blood dripping from his lips. “Fine, in—” Another spasm of coughing. A tremor shakes violently through him.

“Shhh.” Hob holds him close. “I got you.”

Dream heaves for breath. He feels feverishly hot, now, sweating and shivering. “What the hell did you even do? ” Hob asks, running a hand over his back, a bit frantically.

“I unmade the Dreaming,” Dream says, each word a wheeze, “ripped it back into-- into its original grains of sand. Thus. Expelling the bacteria. Into the void that surrounds us, where it-- cannot survive. And then I put- put the Dreaming back, exactly as it was. It must--” he wipes blood from his mouth with a shaking hand, only succeeding in smearing it all over his cheek-- “must be done in an instant. To avoid causing harm.”

“What?” Hob breathes, a vast understatement for the horror and awe that he feels. “Dream, what?”

“Breaking my ruby gave-- gave me back power I hadn’t-- hadn’t seen in eons.” He coughs once, hard, spitting up more blood onto Hob’s shirt. “Nevertheless, I may be… down here for a while.”

Hob smoothes a hand over his shivering chest. “It doesn’t seem like it’s avoided causing harm.”

“Causing no- no damage is impossible, but I managed to contain it within-” he wheezes-- “within my- aspect- and not the rest of the Dreaming.”

“I didn’t even know you could bleed,” Hob says faintly. It’s more disconcerting than feeling the world unravel around him to see Dream shaking and coughing up blood. He’s heard that Dream was weakened when he first escaped his long imprisonment, before he’d recovered his tools, but this is on another level.

“Usually, I cannot,” says Dream, which doesn’t help at all.

“Alright, let’s get you down, then.” Hob maneuvers Dream to lie on his side on the ground. Dream rests his head in Hob’s lap, eyelids fluttering. Around them, the world seems to waver, and then stabilizes again.

Dream feels it, too, and says, “Worry not. The realm is stable. It is merely. Reacting to me.”

“My concern’s really you right now, love,” Hob says, running a hand through Dream’s hair. “Though it’s good the place isn’t going to collapse.”

Dream hums at his touch, closing his eyes. His breathing’s evened out, but it doesn’t seem like he’ll be getting back up under his own muster anytime soon.

It’s not long before footsteps crunch in the snow behind them, wingbeats by their side. “My lord!”

“Lucienne.” Dream’s voice is a low rumble against Hob’s thigh. “Matthew.”

“Boss!” Matthew lands on the ground beside them, Lucienne reaching them a few moments after. Matthew’s gaze catches on the blood on Hob’s shirt and he says, “You hurt, Hob?”

Hob shakes his head and nods toward Dream. Matthew squawks in alarm, feathers puffing up, and flies up to land on Dream’s shoulder, nudging at his hair with his beak.

“I am fine, Matthew,” Dream says without opening his eyes. It’s somewhat unconvincing considering how hoarse his voice comes out, and the fact that one of his ears is now bleeding.

Hob is… fairly convinced that he will be fine, once he’s rested. Fairly.

“Just put himself through the ringer, that’s all,” he says, wiping the blood that’s trailing from Dream’s ear away with his sleeve. “We’ll go home, get some food in you, have a nice bath, and get some rest, hm?”

Dream hums in agreement. “Lucienne, how fare the dreams?”

“Everyone is frightened, but safe,” she reports, then adds, sounding fond, “They were a bit confused by the sun going out.”

“Yeah, that was an interesting party trick,” Hob agrees, and Dream chuckles.

It’s still bloody cold out here, post-blizzard. Hob doesn’t trust Dream’s usual I don’t feel temperatures excuse when he’s so drained of power, so ripped apart.

He gathers Dream up in his arms again, wrapping his coat tighter around him. “Let’s get you in from the cold.”

“So… we’re just not gonna talk about that moment when we all went to the shadow realm, then,” Matthew caws as Hob gets to his feet, lifting Dream up with him. “Do I want to know what that was?”

“Probably not,” Hob tells him, as Dream says, “Hob Gadling, I am capable of walking.”

“Uh-huh,” Hob says with no confidence. “Sure, love. Just indulge me. Consider it some kind of foreplay for later, if it makes you feel better.”

Matthew mutters, “Ick,” but Dream smiles and relents.

“Much later,” Hob warns him. “Mister Coughing-Up-Blood.”

Dream rolls his eyes, but allows Hob to carry him.

Fortunately, it’s not far – the Dreaming transports them quickly back to the palace, though with less certainty in the movement than usual. “Lucienne,” Dream says as Hob divests him of his long coat and lays him in his bed. He looks like he’s about to try to pop back up, and Hob presses a hand to his shoulder, subtly keeping him down. “Please instruct everyone to let me know immediately if they find anything awry. The realm is cleansed, but I do not like to take chances.”

She inclines her head in understanding, casting a small smile in Hob’s direction, too, for good measure. Presumably for his efforts in keeping Dream lying down.

Matthew lands on Dream’s knee. “Seriously, boss, you good? I don’t know what was going on exactly, but whatever it was felt… not great.”

“I am ‘good,’” Dream confirms. “Some amount of damage is usually sustained in fighting off an illness, is it not?”

“If that’s how you want to put it,” Matthew says.

“I’ll look after him,” Hob reassures them both.

They take their leave then, Matthew giving Hob a little salute with his wing, and then Hob and Dream are alone. Hob slips Dream’s boots off, laying a blanket over him, then sits beside him on the bed, resting a hand on his chest. “Are you feeling any better?” he asks. “You have to let me know if it gets worse, I’m dead serious, Dream.”

“I’m not certain what weight that carries when you cannot die,” Dream says.

Hob raises an eyebrow. “Try it and find out. Now, still.”

He finds a damp cloth – thanks, Dreaming – and starts wiping the blood from Dream’s lips, and his hands.

“I see now why the Dreaming called you here,” Dream muses. “No one else would dare speak to me in this manner.”

“The Dreaming called me?”

“I did not. Not intentionally. I would not have brought you into such a battle.”

“Well, I wasn’t much help anyway,” Hob observes. He tips Dream’s head up and gets him to drink some water, likewise manifested by the Dreaming. “You did all the work with your world-bending powers.”

“Perhaps you are a reward,” Dream suggests as Hob lets him lie back down. He finds Hob’s hand and kisses his fingertips.

“Oh, yeah? A prize for your heroism?”

Dream tugs on his arm. Hob slips off his own shoes and discards his blood-splattered shirt, and obediently lies down beside him, gathering him in his arms. Dream cuddles up to him, giving a pleased hum, resting his head on Hob’s shoulder. “A comfort.”

Hob runs a hand through his hair and kisses his forehead. He still can't help but worry a bit, after everything he saw Dream do, but it's good to see him feeling more comfortable. “Sweet thing. You were very brave. Clever, too.”

“You do not have to praise me for performing my function,” Dream grumbles.

“Yeah, but you love it.”

Dream mutters again under his breath, but doesn’t move away. Hob squeezes him tighter, and he softens again.

“Get some rest, now,” Hob tells him.

“You will stay?”

“Course. Think I’ll abandon my king in his time of need?”

Dream hums, evidently pleased.

“But am I going to wake up with a terrible hangover after this?” Hob asks. “Whatever the Dreaming did to summon me felt like getting hit over the head with a pickaxe.”

“Maybe,” Dream says, sounding only the slightest bit chagrined about it. “It had to pull you through the barrier I had constructed.”

He tucks his nose against Hob’s throat, snuggling closer, and Hob just sighs, defeated. “Worth it, to be here for you,” he admits, and feels Dream smile.

#it's finishing up almost finished fics week apparently #my writing #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling

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domnamewoman · 10 months

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You know I've always wonder if the characters meet with a teen reader (platonic relationship) who can control elements. They found her by accident and saw her like catching fish using her water bending.

(sorry if I disturbing you. Please do tell me anything if I broke a rule or something because I'm trying my best to find your rule book)

PS love your Mortal Kombat :3

Title: Little Elements

Summary: You are a teen Elemental who is just trying to survive and find your mom after a mysterious sorcerer abducts her and banishes you to Earthrealm. One day while you are trying to catch dinner, you are ambushed by random men who believe you are the one terrorizing Earthrealm.

Warnings: Teen!GN!Reader, Canon-Typical Violence

Word Count: 1,479

Masterlist

Requests Are Open

What are you going to do? You can survive on your own, sure, but for how long? Who can you even ask for help? You don’t know anyone in this realm and from what you’ve been told, most Earthrealmers don’t even know about Outworld and its inhabitants. How can they help you find your way back, let alone your mom?

Your mom… right.

That bastard! As soon as you find him, he’s dead! You’ll make him pay for what he did to you and your mother. You’ll make him regret underestimating you and reducing your mother to nothing more than a puppet. When you find him you’ll… you’ll…

How will you find him though? You don’t even know his name. Thanks to him you are stranded in Earthrealm. You let out a frustrated sigh. You aren’t powerful enough to open a portable to get back to Outworld. Is there anyone here who is? How can you find them?

You angrily kick a rock and watch it tumble into the river in front of you as a wave of helplessness washes over you. You shake your head to clear it and take a calming breath. You’re no good to your mom if you’re frazzled and drained.

You’ll figure out a plan later, for now, you’ll focus on getting something to eat so you don’t starve to death before you can.

You stand at the bank of the river and let the sounds of nature calm you. The rushing of water downstream. The chirping of the birds’ morning song. The rustling of the wind passing through leaves. It’s almost enough to fool you into believing you are out for a recreational trek through the woods and not stranded all alone.

Raising your hands, you search for the ball of energy stored at the center of your chest and feel it unravel. It begins to spread across your chest, down your arms, and rest in your palms. You move your hands from left to right and watch as the river’s water swirls up into the air.

You parse through the water using your water bending to search for fish and wash them ashore. You are able to find three smallmouth basses and decide they are enough sustenance for today. You bend down to collect them when you feel the air suddenly become charged around you.

Whipping around, your eyes land on four men standing at the tree line. One of them shoots out his hand and a bolt of lightning comes flying toward you. You narrowly manage to dive out of the way and the bolt zaps the spot you were just in.

You feel heat erupt from your chest and plunge down your arms as flames engulf your hands.

“Who are you!?” You question as you take a defensive stance.

“Earthrealm’s Protectors.” The one wearing a razor-rimmed hat declares.

Before you have a chance to process this, another bolt of lightning is making its way to you. Unfortunately, this time you are unable to move out of the way fast enough and fall to the ground as your body shakes in pain.

After the shock subsides, you roll onto your hands and knees. Your breath is nothing but gasps as you try to get air into your lungs. How dare these people attack you unprovoked! Earthrealm’s Protectors? You aren’t doing anything harmful! All you are trying to do is get something to eat. What is their deal? It doesn't matter, you will return the favor of attacking first and asking questions later.

Resting both palms flat against the ground, you force energy through them and the ground begins to violently shake. The men are thrown off balance and it is just the distraction you need to execute an attack.

Throwing your hands out in quick succession, you send several fireballs hurling toward them. You watch as the four men jump around in an effort to dodge the onslaught.

“Now that wasn’t very nice, Hotshot.” One of them says while removing his sunglasses.

Your eyes roll as you scoff. “You’re one to talk. I can still feel the aftershocks from Sir Zaps-a-lot over there.”

“Sir Zaps-a-lot?” Asks the one wearing a… blindfold? Strange.

“Yes! He electrocuted me for no reason!”

“You appear to be no older than 14. Why are you here terrorizing Earthrealm?” Sir Zaps-a-lot asks.

You let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m 15, thank you very much. Also, how is fishing terrorizing anyone!? I was just trying to get something to eat and you attacked me completely unprovoked!”

“Unprovoked? You have been going around causing earthquakes, fires, floods, and tornados in highly populated areas. You have killed innocent Earthrealmers and destroyed many people’s homes and livelihoods! Yet you claim you are innocent?” Razorhead bellows.

“How… I-I can’t do that!”

“Um… listen, Hotshot. We just watched you fish without a fishing rod. Not to mention the fireballs and mini earthquake you used on us. You definitely can do that.” Explains Sunglasses.

“Exactly! Mini earthquake. I can’t make one powerful enough to destroy people’s homes like you’ve said.”

The men stare at you and from their expressions you can tell they don’t believe you.

“Seriously, it wasn’t me!”

“There are not too many others who possess powers like you here.” Mr. See-no-evil states.

How are your powers uncommon? Stupid powerless Earthrealmers!

“Whatever, that still doesn’t change the fact that I’m not strong enough to create earthquakes, floods, or tornados on a scale large enough to destroy homes. I’m still in training!”

“Training by who?” Sir Zaps-a-lot inquires.

“By my mo-”

Why didn’t you think of this sooner? You know someone who is powerful enough to cause damage on a scale these men speak of. Someone who is currently under the hypnosis of a deranged sorcerer. You have to find her!

“Where did these attacks take place?” You ask as you take a step forward.

“Wait a minute Hotshot, who is your trainer?”

“My mother.” You began to pace. “About a week ago, some crazy sorcerer came to our house. I-I think my mom knew him? I had seen him talking to her before. Anyway, the day he showed up at our house he was acting all crazy. T-Then he did some weird magic hypno stuff and put my mom under some sort of spell. She would only listen to him no matter what I did. She was basically his puppet. He opened a portal and forced me to Earthrealm so I wouldn’t get in the way of his plans. I bet he’s using her to do all of the stuff you said. That bastard!”

“Okay, okay, calm down. You said your mother was taken by the sorcerer?” Mr. See-no-evil walks forward, stopping a few feet away from you.

“Yes! I know you have a blindfold on, but do you also have earplugs?”

“There is no need to get testy.”

“Can it, Razorhead!”

“Pfft… Razorhead.” Sunglasses chuckles under his breath.

“My name is Kung Lao, and that is not the attitude one should have when asking for help.”

“Asking for help? Who needs your help?”

“You do. How do you intend to find your mother? Are you going to take on the sorcerer by yourself? My name is Raiden, by the way.”

Dang it, they’re right!

“Fine, I’m sorry. You’re right, there’s no way I can beat him by myself. What am I going to do?” You drop your head in defeat.

Sunglasses walks up to you and throws his arm around your shoulder. “Don’t worry your pretty little head. We won’t leave you to face him all alone. We fight for the weak. That’s what Earthrealm’s Protectors are all about.”

“I’m not weak,” You grumble, resisting the urge to elbow him in the side.

“What he means is, we will help you find your mom and take down this insidious sorcerer.” Kung Lao promises.

“We will take you to Wu Shi and inform our leader Liu Kang of your situation,” Raiden adds.

“But we don’t have time for that. We have to find my mom.” You are starting to get impatient now that you know there is a possibility your mother is here in Earthrealm.

“We will, but we need to make a plan. Plus you have been out here in the woods by yourself for a while. You look like you could use some rest… and some food.” Mr. See-no-evil pointedly nods toward the three fish on the ground you caught earlier.

Just then your stomach decides to remind you just how empty it is.

“Alright, I guess.” You begrudgingly agree.

Wait a minute.

“How do you know there are fish on the ground, aren’t you blindfolded!?”

Everyone starts laughing and you feel as though you’ve been left out of some inside joke.

Mr. See-no-evil starts walking backward toward the tree line. “Come on, I will tell you on the way.”

Should this be a series? Also, we aren't even going to talk about the nicknames... I tried 🤷🏾‍♀️

#domnamewoman #mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #Raiden #Johnny Cage #Kung Lao #Kenshi Takahashi #teen!reader #imagine #mk1 imagine #elemental #elemental!reader #elements #mk1 #mk

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pancakesnake-exe · 3 months

Text

224 FACTS ABOUT

The Stig

It is The Stig

It was originally going to be called “The Gimp”, but was renamed The Stig, which means having a bad fashion sense while being born poor

“We don't know its name, we really don't know its name, nobody knows its name, and we don't want to know, because it's a racing driver.”

The Stig wears its helmet on set and most cast members don’t know who it is.

The Stig does not know who it is because they wiped its memory when it got the job.

It is the Pope.

There is only one The Stig.

The Stig used to work in Rome[as the pope], but gave up its job to be able to keep up with its work here

It has no face

It is terrified of scouts

The drinks cabinet in its car contains 14 different types of custard

Its favourite T-shirt has a picture of a T-shirt

It is afraid of bells

It is confused by stairs

It never blinks

The Stig is kept in the cupboard when not in use

It naturally faces magnetic north

It has a digital face

The Stig has an evil twin named Black Stig who died after driving off an aircraft carrier but came back to life https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Lkh0uWFg9c

It will charge you if you attempt to remove its helmet

Its nipples are explosive

It paid a $25,000 expenses claim for some gravel for his moat

The Stig has three legs

The Stig once dreamt for a whole week straight about what Rubens Barrichello would look like in a ham slicer

The Stig is banned from the town of Chichester

The Stig is the reincarnation of Jesus Christ

The Stig bought a slightly dented white Fiat Uno from the Duke of Edinburgh

If you hold it in the wrong way, it doesn't work properly

It is 47% horse

It has 17 children due to faulty condoms

The Stig has a special pissing technique that causes floods

It once punched a horse to the ground

It has Mansell Syndrome

The Stig runs on diesel

It has a very small brain

It “has no understanding of the concept of money”

The Stig’s credit card says “The Stig” and is issued by The Bank of Money

The Stig’s favorite genres of music are: Morse code, whale songs, baroque music, advertising jingles, country & western music, sales techniques, foreign language learning tapes, ABBA but French, speeches of Margaret Thatcher, Elton John, pipe bands, vuvuzelas, national anthems, Tuvan throat singing, self help audiotapes, and “an annoying ringing sound”

The Stig has to receive awards in its left hand, as its right one is magnetic

The Stig has decided all northerners are edible

It’s mission statement is to "just go out there and drive fast"

The Stig’s opinion is worthless

The Stig has died multiple times, but the Grim Reaper is too afraid to tell it.

The extent of The Stig’s knowledge outside racing is two facts about ducks

Both facts are wrong

The three others once reenacted the journey of the three wise men, and at the end, the manger held a baby The Stig.

The next episode a month later, it was fully grown. Due to “Stigs grow very quickly, and the new The Stig was thus already fully grown.”

Stigs must be transported in delivery crates

The Stig has a fatter American cousin called Big Stig, who is a more relaxed driver

The Stig has an African cousin who only wears boots, a loincloth, racing gloves, and a helmet, has watched “The Lion King” 1780 times, ands second-best friend is a Cape buffalo

The Stig has a cousin who works as a truck driver named Rig Stig who can power slide and drift in trucks, has only one sleeve and wears special gloves, favorite song is “Forever Autumn" by Justin Hayward, and owns the world’s largest porn collection

The Stig has a red-suited Vietnamese cousin who is a communist and rides a motorcycle.

The Stig has a vegetarian cousin named Janet Stig Porter whose helmet is solar powered and wears overalls and socks with sandals

The Stig has a German cousin named Herr Stig who is identical to The Stig in every way besides having a mullet

The Stig has an Italian cousin named Bunga-Bunga Stig who wears a suit, is followed everywhere by three women, and only drives Italian sports cars

The Stig has a Chinese cousin named Attack Stig who is a kung-fu master, attacks anyone on sight indiscriminately, kicked James Lemay in the balls, beat up a large amount of the crew(even stopping in the middle of his timed lap to attack a track Marshall who accidentally entered its line of sight), and looks almost the same as The Stig

The Stig has a teenage cousin who wears headphones, wears low waist line pants showing its underwear, always looks at its phone, and made a mobile game titled “Top Gear: Race The Stig”

The Stig has an Australian cousin who lives in an open cut iron ore mine, wears dusty overalls and flip-flops, is very muscular, and has a very “large gentlemanly sausage”

The Stig has three other teenage cousins who are triplets, wear three different colored headphones and smartphones, and all have low waist line pants showing their underwear

The Stig has a Emirati cousin who looks similar to the normal Stig but wears a ghutrah on top its helmet and a huge diamond watch

The Stig has a relative of unknown association called “StigFoot” who lives in the woods

The Stig has a Japanese cousin named Ninja Stig who is a ninja, and wears a black helmet, a black ninja outfit, and has a katana on its back

The Stig has a business cousin named Business Stig who wears a red tie and a set of braces

The Stig’s father is named StigDad and wears a tank top and flare trousers

The Stig has another Australian cousin who lives upside down

The Stig has a New Zealander cousin named The Stug

The Stig has a Colorodonian cousin named Backwoods Stig who wears white racing overalls with torn off sleeves.

The Stig has a Yorkshire cousin named T’Stig with a flat cap on its helmet and 2 dogs by his feet at all times

The Stig has its own children’s book trilogy

The Stig has a chiseled jawline

The Stig has no friends

The Stig never blinks

The Stig roams the woods at night, foraging for wolves

The Stig is wanted by the CIA

The Stig sleeps upside down like a bat

The Stig can catch fish with its tounge

The Stig appears on high value stamps in Sweden

The Stig is illegal in 17 states

The Stig blinks sideways

The Stig’s breath smells like magnesium

Two of The Stig’s legs are hydraulic

The Stig lives in a tree

It’s sweat can be used to clean precious metals

It’s heart ticks like a watch

It’s voice can only be heard by cats

The Stig has two sets of knees

There is an airport in Russia named after it

Its skin has the texture of a dolphin

No matter where you are in the world, if you tune a radio to 88.4, you can hear its thoughts

The Stig has no understanding of clouds

Its earwax tastes like Turkish delight

The Stig is a master of politics

It’s tears are adhesive

If you set The Stig on fire, it would burn for a thousand days

The Stig can swim seven lengths under the water

The Stig has webbed buttchecks

Its heart is upside down

Its teeth glow in the dark

Its ears “aren’t where you would expect them to be”

The Stig once had an affair with John Prescott

If it felt like it, it could fire Alan Sugar

The Stig has upside down genitals

If it wanted to, it could crack the DaVinci Code in 43 seconds

Its ears have a paisley lining

The Stig is banned from the Chelsea Flower Show

The outline of The Stig’s left nipple is the exact same shape as the Nürburgring

If given a truly important job, The Stig will slack off and play croquet instead

The Stig invented Branston Pickle

On exceptionally warm days, it will shed its skin like a snake

The Stig is allergic to the Dutch

It’s first name is The

If it went in Celebrity Love Island, every one would be pregnant, including the cameramen

The Stig once threw a microwave at someone

The Stig once had a vicious knife fight with Anthea Turner

The Stig has nothing to do with the cash-for-honors scandal

The Stig is a CIA experiment that went wrong

The Stig only eats cheese

If you lick its chest, it will taste exactly like piccalilli

The Stig sucks moisture from ducks

Its crash helmet is modeled after Brittany Spears’ head

The Stig isn’t machine washable

All its potted plants are named Steve

The Stig’s scrotum has its own gravity field

To unlock The Stig, you must run your finger down its face

The Stig thought Star Wars was a documentary

The Stig is afraid of Australian trees

61 years ago, The Stig accidentally introduced the Queen of England to a Greek racialist

The Stig was beheaded, but grew it back

When it slows down, break lights turn on in his butt

The Stig is bad at soccer

The Stig once lost a canoe on a beach in the Northeast

The Stig once had to do time in a prison in Canterbury, because its teddy bear was named Baby Jesus

The Stig has never sat on Santa’s knee

The Stig has never watched Moonraker on Boxing Day

After having sex, The Stig bites the head off its partner

The Stig had to give up binge drinking when prices reached $1.50 a litre

Each of its toenails are exactly the same length as a woman’s nipples

It thinks Credit Crunch is a type of cereal

Its droppings have been found as far as New York

The Stig has a full-size tattoo of The Stig’s face on its face

It is impossible for The Stig to wear socks

The Stig can open a beer bottle with its testes

The Stig sleeps inside out

The Stig once had sex with an answering machine

The Stig invented November

One of its eyes is a testicle

Its left leg gets longer when it sees someone it finds attractive

The Stig doesn’t like getting its helmet wet

The Stig invented the curtain

The Stig thinks potato chips are a type of animal

The Stig is baffled by urinals

The Stig has twelve GCSEs, all in domestic science

The Stig has been producing artificial sperm for years, even though the team has repeatedly asked it not to

On Thursdays, The Stig becomes extremely bulbous

The Stig is highly contagious of the “The Stig Flu”, which killed countless pigs in Mexico

If The Stig compensated a soldier for getting wounded, it wouldn't try to take it all back again

The Stig made someone bald once

In the Autumn, all its arms turn brown and fall off

if it wrote you a letter of condolence, The Stog would get your name right

The Stig has terrible plans involving the Moon

The Stig‘s new Christmas range of fragrances includes the great smell of Wednesday

The Stig was turned down for the job of EU President because its face was just too recognizable

The Stig has never once hit a fire hydrant.

You shouldn't go around to its house for your Christmas lunch unless you enjoy the taste of seagull

The Stig has to take his shoes off with an alum key

The Stig’s New Year's Resolution is to eat fewer mice

Its discharge is luminous

There are 17 different reasons why The Stig is banned from the North Hampton branch of Little Chef

Its favourite airline pilot is Mark Webber, or two, actually

The Stig has an irrational hatred of Rubens Barricello

The Stig is terrified the BBC will reveal its salary because its paid in hardcore porn

Some people think the Scottish released it a little bit too soon

The Stig once spent all week slowly pushing an effigy of Rubens Barricello through his desk fan

The Stig has recently been releasing pop records under the pseudonym of "Lady Gaga"

Under its race suit, The Stig also wears a red G-string and suspenders

The Stig doesn't understand the word "envelope"

The Stig is the only person in Britain not to have slept with Alan Johnson's policeman

The Stig once tore a goat in half

Its nipples are explosive

In its wallet, it keeps a photograph of its wallet

Its favourite disease it had as a child was gout

The Stig doesn’t know what dogs are for

The Stig can't eat mashed potato for religious reasons

The Stig once received 47,000 Olympic tickets, all of them for the final of women's wrestling

The Stig refuses to acknowledge the existence of Nottinghamshire

The Stig once hacked into its own helmet

The Stig is the only person in Britain who knows what B&Q stands for

The Stig once spent its $1.5 million dollar bonus on French breast implants

The Stig has 50,000 photographs of its own camera

The Stig has high horsepower

The Stig is skilled in cocktail-making

The Stig is the only person in history to buy a DFS sofa when it wasn’t on sale

Its favourite boxing venue is Munich Airport

The Stig stores all of its shoes and cassette tapes on the motorway central reservation

Following the vote on gay marriage in Britain, The Stig got engaged to James May’s lawnmower

Its convinced that Henry IV is buried under the Follow-Through

The Stig used to be a stormtrooper, but it was kicked out when it tried to eat Darth Vader

The Stig is made of rubber porcelain

The Stig’s shadow is that of a beluga whale

The Stig can play guitar with the clutch

Its carbon fibre beard is chiselled in the most streamlined way

The Stig knighted the former Queen of England

The Stig once saved the former Queen from God

The Stig can hypnotize sheep

If bothered, The Stig could swim the entire Atlantic Ocean-underwater

The Stig once co-presented a Brazilian show about blimp disasters

The Stig once actually punched God

The Stig once killed a giraffe with just its feet

The Stig has a black belt in paper maché

Some say it is five foot tall with lead in its feet

Others say six feet with tall with air in its head

....but it doesn't care what you say

The Stig has contracted every STD known to man

The Stig has large inflatable breasts to get them out of speeding tickets

The Stig is one of the protons in the Large Hadron Collider

The Stig creates miniature black holes every time he sneezes

The Stig was the one who actually pulled Excalibur from the stone and is the rightful King of England

The Stig gave birth to Chuck Norris and the mother was Superman

The Stig has no understanding of queuing

The Stig once modelled for Page 3

Its feet are made from dog leather

The Stig invented the mankini because it was frustrated with how its speedos looked on it

The Stig is the reason why The Beatles split up

And finally: The Stig has never watched an episode of Top Gear because it prefers a different show that airs at the same time

“Right, that's the track, now we needed someone who could tame it. So we got ourselves a professional racing driver who could post consistently fast lap times. We um, we couldn't do that. Now we call this thing The Stig, okay, we don't know its name, we really don't know its name, no-one knows its name and we don't want to know because it's a racing driver and racing drivers have tiny little brains and therefore worthless opinions and they're very dull; doctors actually call it Mansell Syndrome. Um, its job is simply to go out there and drive fast.”

-God probably

#please reblog this took almost 4 hours #I have never watched an episode of Top Gear #I just like The Stig #comment if I missed one #The Stig #Stig #Top Gear #James May #Hammond #richard hammond #jeremy clarkson #my posts #art #these are all real by the way #they aren’t in order

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uboat53 · 5 months

Text

I had an exchange recently that revealed to me how fast Netanyahu's speedrun of the autocrat's playbook is going. Let's dive in for a LONG RANT (TM).

THE AUTOCRAT'S PLAYBOOK

What I'm calling the "autocrat's playbook" is a simple procedure that autocrats or would-be autocrats take when they feel that their domestic power is under some kind of threat. Specifically, it involves creating external conflict in order to rally domestic support. The steps are fairly simple: (1) start a conflict, (2) use the conflict to muzzle your opposition, (3) use a vague but patriotic excuse for war combined with aggressive tactics to push your military into committing atrocities, (4) use the international backlash to atrocities in order to buttress your own support.

Simply put, Netanyahu is doing this because his position is under threat by his unpopular attempt to destroy Israel's judiciary, his indictment on some pretty severe criminal charges, and his inability to do anything about Hamas' October 7th attack on Israel. By using the autocrat's playbook, he's hoping to hold onto his political position and put off both the collapse of his coalition and the criminal cases against him personally. In the last 6 months, he's already gotten well into Step 4 which may be a record for a leader who wasn't technically already a well-established autocrat. To see how he's doing this, let's start with Step 1.

CONFLICT

The first thing you need in order to distract from your domestic troubles is a foreign conflict. In Netanyahu's case, he already had a conflict after Hamas' attack, but it was a bad conflict because it made him look weak. The best case scenario is that he was a bumbling fool who failed to do anything to prevent Hamas from launching a major attack, the worst case scenario is that he deliberately weakened Israel's defenses against Hamas in order to aid his racist coalition partners in illegally seizing territory in the West Bank. No, that conflict wouldn't do, he needed a different one.

Bombing and invading Gaza is a much better conflict. He gets to appear the aggressor, strong and in command, which is exactly what you want to look like as an autocrat. This is his Step 1, attack Gaza. Now for Step 2.

THE WAR CABINET

Now, Netanyahu isn't an established autocrat yet, he's more of a wanna-be. Israeli news media still criticizes him, civil society still organizes against him, the judiciary still rules against him, and his opponents still have the possibility of ousting him in the Knesset, so he doesn't get to just shove all his opposition in jail on trumped up charges the way Vladimir Putin does. Instead, he's found a better way of muzzling his opposition, give them a title.

That's what the Israeli "war cabinet" is, it's how he muzzles his opposition. Now, I should be clear, a war cabinet isn't necessarily just a muzzle, sometimes it's a legitimate way to ensure support and input from across the nation for a war. But that's not what Netanyahu is using it for, and the way to tell is actually fairly simple. You see, in a true war cabinet, the leader gives up some control to his opposition in order to ensure that they're truly represented, but Netanyahu didn't do that.

You see, there are six members of the war cabinet, three full members and three observers. Of those six, four of them are either members of the Likud Party (Netanyahu's party), members of the Shas Party (one of his coalition members), or a close confidant of Netanyahu's (Ron Dermer). More importantly, only those members that are directly tied to Netanyahu have an actual portfolio (Defense for Likud member Yoav Gallant and Strategic Affairs for Dermer).

In other words, the opposition is in the cabinet, but has no ability to push policy and, even after policy is agreed upon, has no say in how it's carried out. However, as long as they're in the cabinet, they can't speak out publicly against the decisions made. Netanyahu has used the war cabinet to muzzle his opposition without giving them any actual power. Now, with competing voices largely silenced, we move on to Step 3.

HOW TO MAKE ATROCITIES HAPPEN

Atrocities used to be fairly common in warfare, even expected, but modern militaries actually have fairly good discipline, structure, and clear rules of operation that prevent them from doing this on any kind of large scale. In order to get a modern military to commit atrocities, you have to press it in a very specific way.

First, you have to give it an objective, preferably a vaguely defined but intensely patriotic one; bonus points if it's not practically possible. In Netanyahu's case, he ordered the military to destroy Hamas. This may be an achievable objective if Israel had spent years gathering detailed intelligence on the group and had a clear plan for how to separate Hamas fighters and leadership from the civilian population, but the ease with which Hamas carried out its 10/7 attack shows that even the first condition is not even close to being met. Destroying Hamas is an easy goal to defend in public debate, of course everyone wants to destroy Hamas, but it's not one that brings any specifics and it's certainly not something that the Israeli military can do without substantial support from both spies and diplomats even if the required preparations had actually been made.

The second step, though, is equally important; you press aggressively for results. A military given a vague mission that isn't really possible will go through the motions and not do all that much. In order to make atrocities happen, you have to push them to go hard. Bomb that building that may or may not relate to the objective, better to act than to delay! Shoot that person in the distance that may or may not be a Hamas fighter, better safe than sorry! The hospital might be a command post you say? Best to go in with full force!

By giving a vague and impossible mission and then insisting on rapid action, you can force any military to commit atrocities. Then you just wait to start Step 4.

RALLY AROUND THE FLAG

As soon as a country's military commits an atrocity, the international community will react with at least some sort of condemnation. This, at least, is as predictable as clockwork even if the consequences will vary widely. If you're an autocrat with a popularity problem, this is your moment; you're going to defend the troops with every ounce of breath in your body and, with your opposition muzzled, there will be no one to point out that the atrocity wasn't even their fault in the first place, it was yours.

And so, with one fell swoop, you identify the country as being under attack and yourself as its fervent defender, fulfilling the tactic described by Hermann Goering:

"…the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger."

COMPLICATIONS

Of course, it's not necessarily so simple. There are always things that can trip you up and it takes a fairly deft hand to navigate those issues. For example, if you're not careful to distance yourself, it can become obvious that you're the one responsible for the atrocity, not the military. This is where other tactics can come into play.

The most obvious one is just to deny facts that are inconvenient. This is actually what led me to write this up, an exchange I had recently in which someone denied that Israel had, in fact, struck the Iranian embassy in Damascus with an air strike in order to frame Iran's response as unprovoked aggression. This kind of thing doesn't tend to happen (at least, not outside very fringe circles) unless all four of these steps have had a pretty reasonable amount of success which is why I've expressed surprise at how quickly Netanyahu has accomplished all of this.

Facts in general, though, are the most common type of complication. Finding ways to hide, deny, or otherwise elide the fact that you're the one responsible for the atrocity, that it's not just the soldiers making hard calls on an otherwise positive battlefield, are key to making this procedure work.

It's useful for those of us who are not interested in Netanyahu's party line to note that the Israeli military is already showing signs of breaking in the ways that the US military did in Vietnam when discipline and basic chain of command broke down. Simply looking at the sheer number of Israeli soldiers posting social media videos of themselves casually looting or blowing up the homes of Palestinian civilians or shooting people on the street is enough to demonstrate fairly clearly that even basic communications discipline is in rough shape.

So far, though, Netanyahu has been able to control the narrative in Israel, even if the international narrative is turning against him. It remains to be sees if he can continue to do this.

CONCLUSION

Netanyahu has followed a pretty standard 4-step autocratic procedure in order to position himself as the protector of the country and distract from the many, many things that were making him unpopular and threating to remove him from his position of power. In fact, if you look at Israel's strike on Iran's embassy in Damascus, it appears that he's actually starting the whole process over again as the Gaza offensive stalls and he needs further distraction from his other issues.

I should also note that none of this is actually making Israelis any safer, quite the opposite really. The only remaining question is how much of Israel's security and how many Israeli lives Netanyahu is willing to sacrifice for his own good.

#politics #international politics #israel #netanyahu #benjamin netanyahu #autocra #autocracy #autocratic #autocratic leadership #gaza #israel gaza w #israel gaza war #long rant (tm)

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skyler10fic · 1 month

Text

Lightning Strikes Twice Ch. 4

Summary: Carol's escape pod crash-lands into the ocean, aiming for the only place her Kree Starforce division had visited on Earth before: 25 years ago when she was taken. She learns the truth about her family, as Phil and Melinda FINALLY complete their old missing-child mission.

Read on Ao3

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Carol's escape pod was not meant to navigate meteors, space junk, and everything in the way of Earth’s outer atmosphere. She maneuvered with all her piloting skills, but the pod took substantial damage and the sirens told her she wasn't going to have a subtle landing. She flew too fast down, down, down to the surface, pod burning and unable to land properly at all. Water landing it was, then. She aimed as best she could for just off a beach area, not too far to swim to shore.

The planet was bigger than she anticipated from the way the Kree talked about it. But it wasn't just a little dirt patch at all. It was full of green and blue and cities and…

Life. Terrans were crowding around the beach to point at her pod, falling through the early dawn sky. The pod hit the water with enough force to give her a view of several panicked marine lifeforms before bobbing back up to the surface. She grabbed a vinyl bag to pack up anything she could in the way of emergency supplies. She considered taking the escape pod’s energy pistol, but she hesitated. She’d seen this play out too many times: locals who reacted with hostility to Starforce landing on their planet. Before, she would have repeated the company line that these rebels were criminals, outlaws, and thank goodness Starforce had arrived to restore order. But now, those memories took on another lens: innocent people being invaded by an empire, defending their home. Even if they weren’t so innocent, that could be worse for her. The Terrans could see her weapon as a sign of aggression, painting her as a threat to be eliminated, instead of her true intentions of searching for where she belonged.

She popped the glass roof of the escape pod and tossed the body of the weapon as far as she could throw it out to sea. She dropped the heavier energy bank, the ammunition, into the water under her, hoping it would sink fast and lose its charge long before anyone could find it.

If worst came to worst, she was a pretty effective weapon herself. But they didn’t need to know that yet.

Black SUVs lined the beach, and small boats were already on their way to her. Both modes of transport had a dark logo on the side. She was too far to see what it was, but they seemed to be authority figures on this planet and her best bet at communicating she came in peace.

The water pushed her pod closer to the shore and pulled it away, closer and away, closer and away… She waited in observation to time her jump out with the tides, with the rope straps of the waterproof bag around her arms and across her shoulders like a backpack.

A wave finally came and pushed the pod forward. Just as it started to recede, she took the leap to the side. “Here we go,” she mumbled to herself as she started to swim toward the boats. The one on the left had a woman in it in addition to a man, and the other had two men. The woman seemed small enough that she’d be easier to take in a fight, if necessary.

“Bring in the pod!” the man in her chosen boat shouted to the other pair. “We’ve got her!”

When she was in range, the woman threw out a thick ring with a rope attached. “Grab on!”

The instruction was easier said than done with the rocking waves and effort to keep herself afloat. With no sleep and only a stale rations bar in the escape pod to eat, Carol was embarrassed to admit that by the time she had a secure grasp on the ring, she was tiring out. Normally, she would have simply flown. Or at the very least, used her powers and Starforce suit to propel herself through the water. But this situation called for discretion, so she was stuck accepting help from strangers on a strange planet, with a logo that she now clearly identified as a stern, severe bird.

The man and woman tugged on the rope as she swam closer, and Carol saw the mix of concern and wariness in their expressions.

“Help, please!” She called out at the side of their boat, playing it up a bit to reassure them she wasn’t a threat. The strangers maneuvered in the little vessel so it wouldn’t capsize as she pushed herself up and over the side, with the man’s help.

“Hi.” She smiled weakly as the boat settled and she sat down facing the couple. “You can call me Captain Vers, though I guess I’m not much of a captain of anything anymore.” She nodded to the pod the other team was trying to keep from sinking.

“I’m Agent Coulson. This is Agent May,” the man introduced and handed over a dry towel. She wrapped herself in it and used the end to keep her hair from dripping all over the boat.

“Thank you. I seem to have crashed here. Wherever this is?”

“Manhatten Beach,” the man answered. “Are you from Vandenberg? We didn’t know of any scheduled launches today.” He exchanged a glance with the woman who still had an ice-cold glare fixed on Carol.

“No, no,” Carol laughed uneasily. “I’m not sure where that is, but I can guarantee I’m from farther than that. I’m hoping to speak with your interplanetary archivist. Or someone who might know about an incident that happened many years ago with the Kree? Do you have a records office or galactic embassy I can get in touch with?”

The couple (because it was obvious from their body language by now they were a couple) blinked at Carol for a second.

The woman huffed out a humorless laugh. “I guess that’s us. We’re Shield.”

—------------

The rest of the boat ride to shore and car ride to the Shield West Coast headquarters were spent establishing that Agents Phil Coulson and Melinda May were exactly the people she needed to talk to. It seemed suspiciously easy until Agent May explained that they were the “welcome wagon.” The team assigned for the day to intercept any potential alien contact or supernatural occurrences. And an unknown spacecraft falling from the sky toward Los Angeles, which was apparently a major city on this planet, was definitely call for concern. They were interested but not shocked when she told them she’d come from another planet.

“Don’t worry,” Agent Coulson joked, “we don’t do any invasive probes or keep you locked up for experiments. Well, not usually.” He winked as they walked into the bright reception area of an office building, showing his badge at the front door, again at the desk, and to get in the double glass doors leading to the elevators.

Carol tried to smile back, but she knew what they didn’t—she wasn’t an ordinary humanoid from any planet. She was lethal. The longer she kept that her secret, the better.

This planet was so different from Hala and from the space station. The suits didn’t seem optimized for fighting, but rather for fashion. Some men wore a scrap of fabric around their necks, but it didn’t indicate a slave status at all. They were even barking orders at others. She’d studied and visited many Earth-derived societies like this, but still everything from the natural lighting around the perimeter of the building to the friendly banter of the agents they passed in the hallways was utterly foreign to her. No one was more than a foot taller than her, and everyone looked human. All different ethnicities and languages and personalities, but no blue. No one with those eyes that revealed nothing, empathized with no one, and saw no land they didn’t want.

Just as she had the thought, she was face to face with a man who made her bristle.

“Alexander Pierce, director of intake,” he introduced himself and gestured to a chair on one side of a conference table in a windowless meeting room. Agents Coulson and May sat on either side of him across the table from Carol. “My agents tell me you’re Captain Vers. I hear that you’re Kree, is that right?”

“Not quite,” she corrected. “I’m a Starforce warrior. I was raised by the Kree, yes, but I think Earth is my true home. I’d like to find my family, if possible. Agent Coulson tells me Shield is the right place to start.”

Pierce leaned back in his chair, taking in Carol’s direct but humble request. She raised her chin, beginning to feel like a specimen despite Coulson’s humor before.

“The Kree are brutal, from what I hear,” Pierce mused. “A Starforce warrior sounds like someone who could do some real damage if they wanted.” He shrugged at the last bit but watched her carefully.

“I’m only here for information,” Carol deflected. Now was not the time to confirm if she was a threat or an asset. She had a feeling this man would try to use her to his advantage. It was a sickeningly familiar feeling, now that she recognized it. All her life she’d been used as a weapon. She wasn’t going to let that start again. Not here.

She answered their questions about Hala and her quest to the best of her ability, but Pierce had a call and abruptly ended the interview. When he was gone, the couple exchanged a silent conversation through facial expressions that Carol misinterpreted at first as telepathy. Agent Coulson apparently won the debate and they turned back to Carol.

Agent Coulson broke the silence. “Thank you. That was informative. We’ll see what we can do.” He met Carol’s eyes with honesty and kindness, so extremely opposite of Pierce that it threw her off guard. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we ever asked: What’s your full name, Captain Vers?”

“Carol Danvers,” she said. It wouldn’t matter anyway. She’d have to tell them her real name if they were going to help her connect with her family, and it’s not like they would know it. There were probably billions of people on this planet. Many with her same name, even.

“Oh my god.” Coulson paled and gaped at May, who shook her head.

“No, it can’t be.” May denied it in a way that didn’t make any sense to Carol. Of course that was her name. Was it offensive in Earth culture or something?

Coulson swallowed hard and asked, “Really? Carol Danvers, 28 years old? You went missing. You went missing when you were 3.”

“That’s when I was found. By the Kree,” Carol said it as a statement, but it came out like a question. The lines blurred between the few stories she’d been told and the truth in front of her, making her dizzy again.

“Carol.” May laid a hand on Carol’s from across the desk. “You weren’t found. You were abducted. We were the agents assigned to look for you. We thought we failed.”

“Twenty-five years ago,” Coulson whispered. “And here you are. Back in Los Angeles, all on your own.”

Carol’s heart raced. “You were looking for me? And my family, did you know my family?”

May lowered her head apologetically. “Only briefly.”

Coulson sighed. “They seemed to be good people. They were always hopeful you’d come back. Your mom, especially.”

“Were?” Carol tried to keep her emotions in check as she’d always been taught. “Did they give up? Or?”

Always the straight-shooter, May broke the truth with compassionate efficiency. “Your dad was killed in action a few years after you were taken. He was a warrior, like you. Your mom was more recent. She had cancer.”

Coulson stepped in, adding more detail. “She was very sick, but she never stopped checking in with us on your birthday. Your older brother is an agent here, but he’s on a long-term special assignment, deep cover. We don’t know exactly where he is or when he’ll be back in contact.”

“My brother works here,” Carol choked back tears she had been trained to suppress at all costs. “I have a big brother. And you know my birthday?”

“Yeah,” May sighed, “But first we have to tell you how time is counted on Earth. One of the few things we know about the Kree is, well, things are different here.”

Coulson rose from his seat and sent her a fatherly bittersweet smile. “C’mon, kid, there’s someone we need to introduce you to.”

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

Notes: Using last names for Phil and Melinda here since we're in Carol's POV just meeting them, but we're switching back soon as she gets to know them better, don't worry :)

#daisy johnson #carol danvers #aos #agents of shield #captain marvel #daisy x carol #carol x daisy #wlw #sapphic fic #femslash #lesbian carol danvers #skywriting #phil coulson #melinda may #philinda #*narrator voice: yessss it's all coming together

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beardedmrbean · 5 months

Text

It was the most spectacular trial ever held in Vietnam, befitting one of the greatest bank frauds the world has ever seen.

Behind the stately yellow portico of the colonial-era courthouse in Ho Chi Minh City, a 67-year-old Vietnamese property developer was sentenced to death on Thursday for looting one of the country's largest banks over a period of 11 years.

It's a rare verdict - she is one of very few women in Vietnam to be sentenced to death for a white collar crime.

The decision is a reflection of the dizzying scale of the fraud. Truong My Lan was convicted of taking out $44bn (£35bn) in loans from the Saigon Commercial Bank. The verdict requires her to return $27bn, a sum prosecutors said may never be recovered. Some believe the death penalty is the court's way of trying to encourage her to return some of the missing billions.

The habitually secretive communist authorities were uncharacteristically forthright about this case, going into minute detail for the media. They said 2,700 people were summoned to testify, while 10 state prosecutors and around 200 lawyers were involved.

The evidence was in 104 boxes weighing a total of six tonnes. Eighty-five others were tried with Truong My Lan, who denied the charges and can appeal.

All of the defendants were found guilty. Four received life in jail. The rest were given prison terms ranging from 20 years to three years suspended. Truong My Lan's husband and niece received jail terms of nine and 17 years respectively.

"There has never been a show trial like this, I think, in the communist era," says David Brown, a retired US state department official with long experience in Vietnam. "There has certainly been nothing on this scale."

The trial was the most dramatic chapter so far in the "Blazing Furnaces" anti-corruption campaign led by the Communist Party Secretary-General, Nguyen Phu Trong.

A conservative ideologue steeped in Marxist theory, Nguyen Phu Trong believes that popular anger over untamed corruption poses an existential threat to the Communist Party's monopoly on power. He began the campaign in earnest in 2016 after out-manoeuvring the then pro-business prime minister to retain the top job in the party.

The campaign has seen two presidents and two deputy prime ministers forced to resign, and hundreds of officials disciplined or jailed. Now one of the country's richest women has joined their ranks.

Truong My Lan comes from a Sino-Vietnamese family in Ho Chi Minh City, formerly Saigon. It has long been the commercial engine of the Vietnamese economy, dating well back to its days as the anti-communist capital of South Vietnam, with a large, ethnic Chinese community.

She started as a market stall vendor, selling cosmetics with her mother, but began buying land and property after the Communist Party ushered in a period of economic reform, known as Doi Moi, in 1986. By the 1990s, she owned a large portfolio of hotels and restaurants.

Although Vietnam is best known outside the country for its fast-growing manufacturing sector, as an alternative supply chain to China, most wealthy Vietnamese made their money developing and speculating in property.

All land is officially state-owned. Getting access to it often relies on personal relationships with state officials. Corruption escalated as the economy grew, and became endemic.

By 2011, Truong My Lan was a well-known business figure in Ho Chi Minh City, and she was allowed to arrange the merger of three smaller, cash-strapped banks into a larger entity: Saigon Commercial Bank.

Vietnamese law prohibits any individual from holding more than 5% of the shares in any bank. But prosecutors say that through hundreds of shell companies and people acting as her proxies, Truong My Lan actually owned more than 90% of Saigon Commercial.

They accused her of using that power to appoint her own people as managers, and then ordering them to approve hundreds of loans to the network of shell companies she controlled.

The amounts taken out are staggering. Her loans made up 93% of all the bank's lending.

Vietnam secret document warns of 'hostile forces'

US denies Cold War with China in historic Vietnam visit

The country where Kissinger left a legacy of death and chaos

According to prosecutors, over a period of three years from February 2019, she ordered her driver to withdraw 108 trillion Vietnamese dong, more than $4bn (£2.3bn) in cash from the bank, and store it in her basement.

That much cash, even if all of it was in Vietnam's largest denomination banknotes, would weigh two tonnes.

She was also accused of bribing generously to ensure her loans were never scrutinised. A former chief inspector at the central bank was given a life sentence for accepting a $5m bribe.

The mass of officially sanctioned publicity about the case channelled public anger over corruption against Truong My Lan, whose fatigued, unmade-up appearance in court was in stark contrast to the glamorous publicity photos people had seen of her in the past.

But questions are also being asked about why she was able to keep on with the alleged fraud for so long.

"I am puzzled," says Le Hong Hiep who runs the Vietnam Studies Programme at the ISEAS - Yusof Ishak Institute in Singapore.

"Because it wasn't a secret. It was well known in the market that Truong My Lan and her Van Thinh Phat group were using SCB as their own piggy bank to fund the mass acquisition of real estate in the most prime locations.

"It was obvious that she had to get the money from somewhere. But then it is such a common practice. SCB is not the only bank that is used like this. So perhaps the government lost sight because there are so many similar cases in the market."

David Brown believes she was protected by powerful figures who have dominated business and politics in Ho Chi Minh City for decades. And he sees a bigger factor in play in the way this trial is being run: a bid to reassert the authority of the Communist Party over the free-wheeling business culture of the south.

"What Nguyen Phu Trong and his allies in the party are trying to do is to regain control of Saigon, or at least stop it from slipping away.

"Up until 2016 the party in Hanoi pretty much let this Sino-Vietnamese mafia run the place. They would make all the right noises that local communist leaders are supposed to make, but at the same time they were milking the city for a substantial cut of the money that was being made down there."

At 79 years old, party chief Nguyen Phu Trong is in shaky health, and will almost certainly have to retire at the next Communist Party Congress in 2026, when new leaders will be chosen.

He has been one of the longest-serving and most consequential secretary-generals, restoring the authority of the party's conservative wing to a level not seen since the reforms of the 1980s. He clearly does not want to risk permitting enough openness to undermine the party's hold on political power.

But he is trapped in a contradiction. Under his leadership the party has set an ambitious goal of reaching rich country status by 2045, with a technology and knowledge-based economy. This is what is driving the ever-closer partnership with the United States.

Yet faster growth in Vietnam almost inevitably means more corruption. Fight corruption too much, and you risk extinguishing a lot of economic activity. Already there are complaints that bureaucracy has slowed down, as officials shy away from decisions which might implicate them in a corruption case.

"That's the paradox," says Le Hong Hiep. "Their growth model has been reliant on corrupt practices for so long. Corruption has been the grease that that kept the machinery working. If they stop the grease, things may not work any more."

#nunyas news #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #just girlboss things

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mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 1 year

Text

MDZS summer vacation headcannons

...because it's so warm and sunny outside that it makes me think of the seaside

Warnings: some suggestive implications bc it's wangxian, ofc they're going to be horny

Under the cut because it got long

"Lan Zhan, we should go to beach some time soon!" Wei Ying says in passing as they're drinking their coffees one morning.

"Mn. We will."

Next day LWJ gives WWX a three-fingers-wide file with suggestions for destinations, hotels, fun things to do and reviews from several reputable websites.

It's color coded, laminated, with high quality pictures of rooms and amenities.

"We could have just looked online, Lan Zhan."

"You told me you prefer to read on paper and take notes rather than use a screen. If I can make it easier for you, I will."

It's all 5 star hotels with scenic views and luxury packages only. All the best for Wei Ying, no holds barred.

"Lan Zhan, why are there no prices in this file?"

"Prices do not matter, Wei Ying, I can afford anything for you."

What a man

There are also transportation options, all of them super fancy and customizable

"...a private jet?"

"It is a lot more convenient than commercial airlines, Wei Ying. Flights to our destination are overcrowded and at difficult times of the day for you to wake up at."

"You want to rent a private jet just so I don't have to wake up early?"

"Yes."

What a man x 2

(He also wants to rent the jet so he gets to comfortably join the mile high club with Wei Ying but that's a secret)

Anyways

Once at the fancy resort, they become the talk of the town

Hotel staff loves them

They never tip below 100$, they're both nice and respectful and LWJ glares down entitled Karens whenever they're in his earshot at the restaurant/reception/pool etc. until they shut up

Amazing guests 10/10, staff at other hotels is envious not having had them as clients

The top Google search of the week in the area is "single Lan men"

Everyone knows the super rich and super nice couple living in the presidential suite must be protected at all costs (and spoiled rotten)

They get so much complimentary wine and chocolate that they pack some of it to bring home and gift it to friends and relatives

There's always fresh flower arrangements and various trinkets awaiting them after they return from the beach or from visiting the area

Speaking of

Going to the beach is the only time when WWX willing wakes up early

He likes watching the sunrise

They have such a big beach bag

What do they even carry in there, it's like 10kg

"Lan Zhan, how much sunscreen did you even pack?"

"5 bottles. There are also 2 bottles of tanning oil, 5 towels, three charges, a power bank, money, two changes of clothes... and two bottles of lube."

LWJ is very forward-thinking, you see

The hotel has a private beach and the private beach has a VIP area - LWJ rents it all out so he and WWX get some privacy to enjoy the sun, sand and sea (and the sex)

They rent one of those fancy beach beds with a canopy (like this one) because just laying a towel on the sand is boring

Cocktails. So many cocktails

Bar staff has so much fun making them because WWX obviously knows his way around alcohol so he suggests all sorts of fun mixes and ingredients, it's a whole thing

LWJ quietly sips his mocktails and watches in adoration

(No alcohol for him until later in the day because he gets super light headed in the sun after alcohol and becomes an un-Lan clumsy mess) totally not projecting lmao wdym

None of the fancy apparel stops WWX from building sand castles and collecting seashells to give to LWJ as courting gifts like a crow

"Lan Zhan, do you think I could catch some fish if I dive fast enough?"

"Lan Zhan, look! A crab! It looks like your uncle!"

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, I think there are dolphins a bit farther out, let's rent a boat so we go see them!"

They do rent a boat, a small yacht to be more exact

LWJ knows how to sail and WWX suddenly can't be bothered with anything but how good his husband looks doing it

(They end up, um, rocking the boat before they even get to see any marine life)

They also rent jet skis

They race each other and do all sorts of fancy tricks to show off

The rest of the beachgoers are bewitched watching them

(It's a whole mating dance for them but people just think they're super competitive or something)

"Hey Lan Zhan do you think we can go far enough so nobody can see us and you fuck me on this jet ski?"

"Wei Ying."

"What, it would be fun!"

(It was)

(Why are they so horny)

The whole time is basically spent fucking after doing various holiday activities

Buying souvenirs? Fucking in the hotel afterwards

Having dinner? Fucking in the restaurant bathroom if the room is too far out

Romantic sunset walking on the beach? Fucking against some rocks after it gets dark (because sand is annoying and gets in unsavory places)

They take so many pictures

WWX posts almost everything on his socials and it's annoying

(nobody dares say anything bc LWJ would doxx them)

They end up stumbling upon some beach party at some point and ofc WWX wants to join in

The hosts are nice and a bit drunk so they agree, LWJ buys everyone shots and the party stretches until the morning

(WWX enjoys dancing and teasing LWJ about it but LWJ gives him the "you'll pay for this when we get back home" look and he knows it's worth it)

"Lan Zhan, let's go swim, I've always wanted to do it in the dark!"

(They do it. Oh, they also swim)

Everyone back home gets a little gift/souvenir thing which translates into an extra 3 luggage bags for LWJ to carry

"We definitely need to do this again, I had so much fun!"

LWJ takes out his laptop immediately and WWX starts laughing.

"Not that soon, Lan Zhan!"

(It is that soon, they basically have a redo of their honeymoon. It's great)

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #original thots

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magicshopaholic · 1 year

Text

Never Have I

Summary: During a break in Seoul, Jimin runs into Sooah - and she’s not alone. Meanwhile, Hoseok sees a different side of Chaeyoung’s life.

Pairing: Jimin x OC, Hoseok x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Exes; humour, banter, flirting, bickering, angst

Word count: 11.3 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, a lot of alcohol, peer pressure, shady characters

A/N: It’s happening! Jimin is back to dealing (or profusely not dealing) with his baggage when it comes to his ex, and Hoseok is back to being a pain in the ass for his best friend’s little sister - just a day in the life 🖤 Takes place a couple of months after A Phone Call and about six months after Movie Night.

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @dreaming-with-happiness @confessionsofamarshlily @jiminjhang @xjoonchildx @tarahardcore @infinitehobi @handfullofcandids

Listen to: “anna (go to him)” by the beatles

jimin masterlist | hoseok masterlist | main masterlist

Sooah checks her phone as she steps out of the building, squinting slightly at the sunlight. The battery is depleting fast; she hopes it’ll last until she gets home. She considers plugging it into her scooter, when she remembers. Whipping around to run back into the building, she halts in her tracks when she spots her target jogging out of the building in Sooah’s direction.

“Hey!” The younger girl - for she has to be younger; no one her age still has bag tags with fur on them - waves and stops in front of her, panting slightly. “Sooah, right? You forgot this.” In her hand is Sooah’s power bank, slightly frayed on the edges but still sturdy and reliable, her name written in the corner in silver ink.

“Right, thanks.” Glad she doesn’t have to go all the way back inside, Sooah tucks her yoga mat under her arm and smiles. “Your phone good and charged?”

“Yes, thank God. You’re a lifesaver,” adds the other girl, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on the class at all if my phone had died.”

“You concentrated alright, from what I could see,” remarks Sooah. “That was a hell of a backbend.”

Her smile brightens and she looks almost shy, as though she isn’t used to getting compliments. “Thanks.” She tilts her head up towards the sun, her long hair shining in the brightness. “Any plans for the weekend?”

Don’t start. “I did have plans but then my boyfriend got called into work which is where he’s going to be all weekend.” She shakes her head, trying not to sound too disgruntled. “Unless something goes really right and he gets a couple hours off tonight, I’m probably going to sit around with no one but myself for company the entire time.”

The girl winces, and Sooah gets the impression that she truly understands. “Well, I mean, if you’re not doing anything…” she begins, shrugging, “my roommate and I are having a party tonight. If you want to come?”

Sooah squints and frowns, somewhat amused that this girl doesn’t seem to realise she’s invited a total stranger to a party at her house. She asks the first question that pops into her mind. “You, uh… where do you live?”

“Hongdae,” she supplies. “There’s going to be drinks and music and dancing… I mean, only if that’s, like, your thing,” she clarifies suddenly. “Totally cool if it isn’t.”

“No, it’s… it’s definitely my thing,” murmurs Sooah honestly, realising she’s actually considering it. “I - will your roommate be okay with you inviting someone she doesn’t know? Or he?”

“Oh, no, Sungmi is cool. We both have free reign to invite whomever we like.” She leans in a bit then, lowering her voice. “To be honest, I won’t know a lot of people there,” she confesses, looking a bit sheepish. “So I just thought a familiar face would be nice. But, no pressure. Obviously.”

“Of course.” Sooah nods. “I’ll let you know if I can.”

“Sure.” She smiles again. “I’ll give you my number; you can text me in case you decide to come.”

“Cool.” Sooah dictates her number as the girl saves it. A moment later, she hears a ping from her own phone. “Got it.” As the girl waves and starts to leave, Sooah suddenly remembers. “Hey, uh… what’s your name, by the way?”

She looks confused for a second before her eyes go wide. “Oh, God, I’m such a ditz. I’m Chaeyoung,” she says, skipping back over and sticking out her hand for Sooah to shake. “Hope to see you tonight, unnie.”

—

The sun is just setting beyond the horizon when Jimin exits the elevator of the Big Hit building into the basement, with a spirited young idol who’s apparently just made his debut.

“... saw you in Wembley, too,” he gushes, in step with Jimin. His youthful face is full of energy and wonder, and his smile is the exact kind that Big Hit looks for to plaster on billboards everywhere. “My group was in the audience - we couldn’t believe it. The stage was just on fire.”

Jimin grins, a mixture of gratitude and pride. Next to him, Hoseok cracks a bashful smile. “Oh, come on. We all saw your debut. You guys are fantastic - you’ll be at Wembley in no time.”

The younger idol - Alex (“half British, half Korean”) - almost chokes. Even taller than both of them, certainly Namjoon’s height, he looks almost deferential. “We’re just learning from you, hyung,” he says humbly. “Even the hours in the studio are crazy - but it’s worth it.”

“Make good use of the free time you have then.” In a sweet yet clear way that they must now part, Hoseok pats him on the back and waves. “Have a good evening, Alex.” He and Jimin walk towards their car as Alex goes in the other direction, his shoulders clearly reflecting the tiredness Jimin remembers from his own debut days.

“Shit, I feel for them,” he muses, watching him until he disappears behind a pillar before turning to Hoseok. “Remember when Jungkook tried to sneak us that half bucket of fried chicken and got caught?”

“And put the blame on Taehyung?” Hoseok chuckles at the memory while Jimin laughs. “Man, we really had to beat some sense into that kid.”

“Still a work in progress,” remarks Jimin as he climbs into the shotgun seat of the car. While Hoseok adjusts the rearview mirror and straps himself in, Jimin checks his hair and smirks at his reflection. “The blond really suits me, doesn’t it?”

“I can’t believe we have to go to this,” grumbles Hoseok, sighing and reversing out of the parking spot. “Such a bad idea.”

Jimin deflates, realising that this tirade of it’s such a bad idea that had been a constant during their recording session just now, was only going to continue throughout this car ride. “Hyung, I’ll say it again. We don’t have to go.”

“Yes, we do,” mutters Hoseok, driving out of the private exit at the back of the building. “Chaeyoung invited me - because I invited her to my house. If I snub her invitation, she’ll probably go running to her brother or something.”

Jimin squints skeptically. “Really? She’ll go running to her brother if you don’t attend a house party thrown by her roommate?”

“You don’t know her like I do, Jimin.”

He rolls his eyes at Hoseok’s serious tone, unable to understand what it is about that girl Chaeyoung that riles him up. “Fine. Can we listen to music?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Jimin connects his phone to the stereo and puts it on shuffle, easily bopping to the music while Hoseok drives with a scowl on his face. Finally, he speaks again. “Hyung? Seriously, what’s wrong?”

For a moment, Jimin thinks he isn’t going to answer, but then Hoseok sighs. “Nothing.” His fingers tighten on the steering wheel. “I just don’t know how to be around her. She’s different and grown up and… we were never really friends.” He shrugs uneasily. “It’s just weird.”

Jimin nods, not quite understanding the extremity of his friend’s reaction. Still, he tries to be supportive. “Well,” he begins, shifting lower in his seat, “speaking as a person who just met her, she’s pretty nice. Fun. You’ve met her a couple times, too, haven’t you?”

“Yeah, at that shoot for Vogue - but she was only filling in for someone,” says Hoseok. “We didn’t really get an opportunity to say anything to each other except a hi.”

“It’s a good start.”

Hoseok cracks a smile. “Thanks for coming with me, though. I know I probably hijacked your Saturday night.”

“Nah, not really. I didn’t have plans.”

“And now your plans involve hanging with Chaeyoung all night.”

“I don’t mind. She’s cute.” When Jimin gets no response, he looks up and does a double take when he sees Hoseok staring at him. “What?”

“She’s cute?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Come on, hyung, don’t be weird about this,” he says dismissively. “She is cute. Jungkook thinks so, too,” he adds casually.

“Do I need to put a leash on you two or something?”

He snickers. “Kinky. Do you think Chaeyoung would -”

“I will drive us into a tree,” warns Hoseok, “and I won’t regret it.”

“No, you won’t,” he retorts, unimpressed. “This is Suga hyung’s car. And I was going to say: do you think Chaeyoung would mind that you brought me along?” Jimin clicks his tongue. “You’re being really high-strung about this. Do you have a crush on her or something?”

“Ugh. Let me know if you see a tree, yeah?” When all Jimin does is hum in response, Hoseok sighs. “I don’t think she’ll mind. She said herself that she won’t know a lot of people there, so she’ll probably be glad to see a familiar face.”

“You’ll be one of those familiar faces, too,” points out Jimin. “That’s probably why she invited you.”

“I guess.” Hoseok is quiet for a minute. “I know she’s not going to complain to her brother. It’s just easier to think that because I don’t know what she’ll do otherwise.”

“Here’s an idea: get to know her.”

Hoseok makes a choking sound. “Let’s not get carried away here. We’re not friends.”

Jimin is about to point out that they can be, but for some reason he feels as though the suggestion would be lost on his friend. He therefore leaves Hoseok to his pensive thoughts and stretches in his seat, feeling like he’d rather enjoy this impromptu weekend plan than sit around and decipher his friend’s many sounds and sighs every time Chaeyoung is brought up. In fact, if he’s learnt anything since he was a wee rookie, like that Alex they just met, it’s that free time cannot be treated callously.

With that thought, they reach Chaeyoung’s apartment twenty minutes later. The sun has now fully set and the buzz of a Saturday night is all around Hongdae. Hoseok parks a couple of buildings away and both of them keep their heads low as they pass the crowd, smoothly making it unseen.

“Jesus,” breathes Hoseok, when they step into the building. His tone betrays nothing except that of something unexpected, and Jimin can’t help but agree. Chaeyoung’s apartment is meant to be on the second floor, but it’s no matter since the entire building seems to be in party mode. It looks like how college dorms are portrayed in movies, with young adults bustling around in various styles of clothing, a thin haze of smoke permeating every corner, and thumping music that seems to be playing through the walls.

“Are you sure she lives here?” Jimin asks as they gingerly step in. He dodges a couple sharing a cigarette and grinding to the music at the same time. “Maybe you should call her.”

“No, this is it,” replies Hoseok grimly, snaking his way around a bunch of guys chugging huge mugs of beer. “Come on, I can’t wait to see how this generation parties.”

As it turns out, the aforementioned generation parties alright. The door to Chaeyoung’s apartment, while open, is still on a floor that’s less crowded. There isn’t as much smoke and most of the partying seems to be happening indoors.

Hoseok and Jimin pause at the door, peering in hesitantly. Jimin, at least, recognises no one - although he sees a couple of people do a double take at the sight of him. He smiles back charmingly while next to him, Hoseok gets on the tips of his toes, as though hoping to spot Chaeyoung in the middle of the party.

“Let’s just go inside,” suggests Jimin, and pulls Hoseok with him by the arm. The apartment is small but lively, seemingly held together at the seams, but has the unmistakable air of cool. Jimin can tell, especially when they walk further into the apartment and he catches a glimpse of someone familiar.

“What the -”

But she’s disappeared. Jimin frowns, knowing it’s too much of a coincidence for Sooah to be at this party, this awfully random party, but also knowing that he’d recognise her face anywhere. “Hey, hyung, did you just see -”

“Chae!” Hoseok’s voice is filled with a mixture of exasperation and relief, and Jimin turns to see Chaeyoung making her way through the crowd towards them, a glass of dark liquid in her hand.

“Hey, you came!” She sounds bright and cheerful, not to mention rather relieved as well. “And you brought Jimin! Hey,” she adds with a light laugh, reaching up to give him a one-armed hug. Jimin raises his eyebrows at Hoseok’s stony face over her shoulder and stifles a laugh.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” he says cheerfully, straightening his jacket and running a hand through his hair, trying not to make it too obvious that he’s still searching for the face he knows he saw. He forces himself to look at Chaeyoung. “Nice party.”

“My roommate’s party,” she corrects, shrugging and looking around. “I unfortunately don’t have friends cool enough to smoke out of rolled up bills and still be doing body shots in this day and age.” She chuckles, but doesn’t sound judgmental. “It’s fun, though. You look great,” she adds, fingering the lapel of his jacket.

“Hey, thanks. You, too.”

“Thanks,” she replies sheepishly, sounding slightly self-conscious. “You look good, too, oppa,” she says after a moment, turning to Hoseok.

Hoseok, who’d been watching this exchange with no signs of amusement, takes a moment to realise he’s being spoken to. “Oh, uh - thank you. So do you,” he says a moment later, glancing and immediately averting his eyes from her bare legs under the short skirt she’s wearing.

Chaeyoung seems satisfied with this level of small talk. “You guys should meet Sungmi - she should be here somewhere…” She trails off, peering at the crowd.

“And Sungmi is… your senior?”

“Yeah, from college. Her boyfriend is here, too,” she adds, turning back around and taking a sip of her drink. “He’s pretty cool. Kind of quiet. But his tattoos are rad.”

Hoseok raises his eyebrows while Jimin makes a noise of appreciation, still subtly searching the crowd for her. “What, uh, what kind of tattoos?” asks the former.

“Nothing much. A tattoo sleeve on his arm, a bunch of stuff on his back,” she supplies, her head bopping subtly to the music. “The usual. His cousin’s are even cooler.”

“His -”

“Yeah, they hang out here a lot. Oh, there he is!” She points to the far end of the living room where a guy in his late twenties emerges out of a hallway, a tall girl swaying to the music beside him. His hair is a frozen blue, and Chaeyoung seems to have missed his most important tattoo - the one on his face. “That’s Ice, and Sungmi with him.”

Even Jimin lets out a low whistle, glancing over at Hoseok who looks scandalised. Neither of them bother to ask if his name really is Ice.

“How, uh -” Hoseok swallows. “And, uh, where - where did she meet this gentleman?”

“A concert.”

“Yeah? What was he doing at the concert?”

Chaeyoung gives him a look. “I don’t know. What do you do at a concert?”

Jimin snickers while Hoseok narrows his eyes. “I perform. What does Ice do?”

“Oh. Duh.” She lets out a light laugh. “He was just in the crowd. She met him while he was filming the mosh pit.”

Hoseok chokes just as the most familiar face comes back into view for Jimin - and this time, she spots him, too. “Of course,” he whispers, his heart already racing as her eyes light up with recognition.

Next to him, his friend seems to spot her, too. “Hey, is that Sooah?”

Chaeyoung frowns in surprise and turns around as Sooah makes her way over to them. In a shimmery top and black jeans, she looks, once again, like she just heard about this party and turned up to it, dressed to perfection for the occasion.

“Guys, hi!” She sounds more relieved than any of them at the sight of familiar people and immediately reaches up to give Jimin a hug before moving to Hoseok. “I had no idea you’d be here,” she adds, sounding slightly breathless and turning to Chaeyoung.

“Yeah, same here -” Jimin starts to say, but Chaeyoung beats him to it.

“Wait,” she says, pointing to Sooah and Jimin, “how do you two know each other?”

“Oh, we’re -” She catches Jimin’s eye and gives him a small smile. “We’re old friends.” She looks at Hoseok. “How do you guys know each other?”

“Same,” replies Hoseok, gesturing to Chaeyoung. “We’re old… neighbours.”

Chaeyoung wrinkles her nose. “Smooth.”

Hoseok makes a face while Jimin swallows, feeling the familiar rush of excitement and anticipation at seeing his ex-girlfriend. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he says.

“I didn’t either,” she agrees, taking a sip of her drink - a whiskey, from the looks of it - and nodding. “It was shaping up to be a pretty shit weekend in all, but then someone -” She throws a friendly arm around Chaeyoung’s shoulders and squeezes it “- invited a practical stranger to a party at her house.”

Chaeyoung chuckles, a faint blush spreading to her cheeks. “You’re not a stranger. Today was our fifth class together,” she points out. “But I’m glad you know these guys,” she adds, pointing at Jimin and Hoseok. “I was feeling a bit guilty, thinking you’d only have me and your boyfriend for company.”

Jimin’s mind does a double take but he can’t immediately pinpoint why. When he notices Sooah’s gaze flicker to him, he remembers.

I was a bit nervous to tell you that I’m seeing someone, if I’m being honest.

He’d balked at the word “seeing” but thankfully, Chaeyoung’s remark answers a question he didn’t think he’d be able to bring himself to ask - at least, not without letting Sooah think he really cared.

“You guys should meet him, too,” she says lightly after a moment. “He’s really great.”

“Of course,” he says, glad to hear his voice sounds normal, for if he really thinks about it, he doesn’t mind.

As he thinks about it, he scans the crowd, automatically wondering which one of the guys in this room could be Sooah’s new boyfriend. There’s the one in the middle of a circle by the sofas with a charming smile and a girl on either side of him; if this were high school, this guy would be Jimin’s first guess. But if she doesn’t know anyone at this party then neither does her boyfriend, so Jimin moves on.

There’s another guy by the dining table where all the drinks are, wearing ripped jeans and a leather jacket - in the summer: also potentially Sooah’s type. Then there’s one by the balcony, not really standing outside but not standing inside either, smoking a cigarette while he stands alone. Not quite Sooah’s type of boyfriend, but definitely Sooah’s type of distraction.

Jimin’s brought out of his surveillance when Hoseok nudges him. “I’m going to get a drink,” he says, somewhat pointedly. “You want one, too?”

“Um…” He meets Sooah’s gaze, who gives him an innocent smile. Fighting one of his own, he shakes his head. “You go ahead. I’ll, uh… I’ll think about what I want.”

“Okay.” Hoseok shrugs and turns to Chaeyoung, his tone shifting. “Alright, what have you kids got to drink here?”

She clicks her tongue as they walk away. “Sungmi is, like, two years younger than you, oppa…”

Jimin watches them, fully aware of Sooah taking a couple forward until she’s right next to him. He catches a faint whiff of her perfume, something like roses and sugar.

“You look great,” she says, giving his frame a quick once-over.

He tries, for a moment, to think of something witty to say but gives up. “Thanks. You, too. But you know that,” he adds.

“I hoped.” She nudges his shoulder softly. “I’m really glad to see you.”

“You are?”

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” Sooah holds his gaze for a second before her shoulders fall slightly. “Come on, Chim. This isn’t going to be awkward, is it?”

Jimin flushes, suddenly feeling rather juvenile. “Of course not. It’s really good to see you, too, Sooah,” he says after a moment, realising he means it.

“Great.” Sooah nods in what he imagines is sympathy. “I would… really like for you to meet him.” There’s no need to specify who “him” is referring to. “If you’re okay with that.”

“Of course. Sooah, come on, I know we were… fooling around,” he says, and they share a sheepish smile, “but we haven’t dated in years.”

“Five years, to be exact,” she remembers softly.

He swallows. “Yeah. We’ve both dated since then. It’s not a big deal,” he adds, not fully sure if he even believes it himself.

Sooah watches him for a moment before nodding. “That’s true. I guess we’ve just never been friends while dating someone else. This would be the first time.”

“That’s a lot of pressure.”

She laughs and squeezes his shoulder. “I have faith in you, Chim.”

“And I have faith in you. Which is why I hope that I didn’t get replaced by a guy wearing metallic buckles in his jacket.”

She immediately turns in the direction he’s gesturing in, before snorting. “God, no. It would be so difficult to take off,” she adds cheekily.

“That’s what I thought.” He taps his temple dramatically. “The guy with the red hair, though -” He points at the makeshift bar, “he just drank the foam out of the mug while he poured his beer.” He lets out a low whistle. “Come on, that’s got to be impressive.”

“Everything a girl looks for in a guy,” she agrees dryly. “Any other guesses?”

Jimin grins, for this exercise feels like a crash course in Sooah’s romantic past - the one list Sooah has admitted in the past that was topped by him.

“Oh, I don’t know. How about that one over there? We all know how much you love facial piercings.”

“A real winner.”

“And he’s got one of those cool wrap-around earphones. Sooah, you may just have hit a jackpot with -” He breaks off when he sees Sooah’s gaze shift to something behind him.

“All worthy guesses, Chim,” she begins, clearly trying to suppress a smile, “but it’s time you met the real one.” She pats his shoulder and grins. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Jimin takes a second to process this abrupt change in topic but turns to watch her wade through the crowd, only to reach -

“Fuck.”

The word falls out of his mouth before he can help it, and he hasn’t a clue what it means. All he knows is that when he sees Sooah reach up to hug debut rookie half-British-half-Korean Alex, he almost wonders for a moment if coincidences really do occur in the universe or if the universe just enjoys fucking with him.

As Sooah brings Alex over, Jimin is suddenly conscious of his hands. They hang by his side uselessly before he quickly stuffs them into the pockets of his jacket, just as Alex catches sight of him.

“Jimin sunbaenim!” Alex exclaims, loud enough that a couple of people even turn to look. “Sorry,” he mutters sheepishly. “I didn’t know you were going to be here, too! Sooah, do - do you know him?”

Sooah doesn’t speak for a moment. She looks up at him and nods before, with what looks like an enormous effort, she turns to Jimin. “Yeah, we know each other from school,” she says to Alex, while her gaze bores into Jimin’s, as though daring him to say something.

Jimin, for all his self-control, gives her a wide smile. “It’s true,” he agrees. “Sooah was the most popular girl in our class.”

“Really?” Alex grins down at her and they seem to share a momentary private joke. “Somehow, I can believe that.”

“And Jimin was the best dancer in our class,” she adds, nudging his arm. “And the best at math.”

“I can believe that, too. The dance part, not the math,” corrects Alex immediately. “I mean - I’m sure you were good at math, too, hyung.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Jimin chuckles. “It’s okay. You didn’t tell me this was your night off.”

“Big Hit must have gotten more lenient over time,” offers Sooah, giving him a knowing look.

Alex doesn’t catch on. “We’ve been rehearsing for three days straight so they gave us tonight to go home. But I haven’t seen Sooah in a while, so…” He shrugs and puts an arm around her shoulder. Jimin is surprised to see the smile that involuntarily appears on her face, when Alex continues. “You would know what that’s like, though, hyung.”

Jimin doesn’t say anything for a moment. “It’s the price of debuting,” he says finally, slowly looking over at Sooah, whose smile fades slightly.

“Seems like it’s worth it.” Before Jimin can process why this response stings something ancient in his heart, she turns to Alex. “Let’s get you a drink?”

“Oh…” He winces apologetically. “Sorry, noona, I can’t drink tonight. We have that shoot tomorrow…”

“Oh, yeah, I almost forgot.” She bites her lip before linking her arm with his. “Alright. Why don’t you come with me while I get a drink? You should say hi to Chaeyoung, too.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll see you around, sunbaenim,” he says to Jimin, eyes shining, before he and Sooah leave for the drinks’ table.

Years and years ago, when Jimin had first accompanied Sooah to one of their high school parties, he had wondered for the umpteenth time whether they even made sense together. When they were alone, they did. They laughed, bickered, kissed in empty classrooms and texted all night underneath the covers. Beautiful, popular Kim Sooah was goofy and silly and funny and adorable, and Jimin felt like he’d won the lottery at sixteen.

But out in public, Kim Sooah was Kim Sooah, and Jimin was the boyfriend that everyone subconsciously frowned at momentarily before smiling and introducing themselves. Sooah hadn’t left his side, though, not even when her friends had called her over, not when the drinking games had commenced. She’d given him his first drink - a vodka - a little hesitantly.

“This doesn’t make me a bad influence, does it?”

She’d bit her lip, red and plump, as she tugged her tube top up her chest. Jimin, who’d been fairly curious about alcohol anyway, had only one answer in mind.

“Of course not,” he’d said, smiling and taking the glass. “I need to fit in with your friends eventually, don’t I?”

“Don’t worry about them,” she’d said dismissively. “It doesn’t matter what they think. You don’t have to drink that if you don’t want, Jimin.”

He appreciated it, but Jimin knew he had a rare opportunity. Boys like him didn’t attract the attention of girls like Kim Sooah; if he had any hope of sustaining this, he needed to prove he could fit in with the cool kids.

Across the room, Sooah mixes herself a gin cocktail, hands moving with ease. Next to her, Alex reads the label of a soju bottle before muttering something to her that makes her laugh and nod.

“Wow, you’re Jimin, right? From BTS?”

Startled, Jimin turns to see a girl about his height, her face flushed as she takes in his appearance.

“Um -” He clears his throat. “That’s right.”

“Wow, I can’t believe it,” she breathes. Behind her, a couple of more people spot him, their eyes going wide. “Can I take a selfie with you?”

“Uh, sure.” Before he knows it, she’s leaned over to him and raised her phone, clicking a series of pictures in succession in which she’s pouting and he’s just about registering what’s happening.

“Thank you,” she gushes, reaching over and giving him a half-hug that he returns hesitantly. “Find me later,” she says in a low voice before stepping away. “If you’re still here.”

It takes Jimin a moment to gather his bearings, even as a lightness spreads through his insides. Suddenly confident, he struts over to where Sooah is standing next to the mantle, this time by herself.

“So,” he begins, leaning against the wall next to her as she scrolls through her phone, drink in her other hand. “Where’s my biggest fan?”

Sooah doesn’t even look up. “Probably in a dark room somewhere, stalking your flight schedule?”

“Not him,” says Jimin, unfazed. “My other biggest fan.” He leans closer to her, his bangs brushing hers. “Noona.”

“Don’t start, Jimin.”

He laughs. “What? I thought you hated being called noona.”

“I don’t hate it.”

“Really? You threw a piece of chalk at Taehyung’s head when he called you that once.”

“That’s because he was fucking with me,” she clarifies, finally looking up at him and holding up a finger. “Secondly, it’s a little hard to get annoyed by it as you get older. There’s too many people calling you that all of a sudden.”

“Including your boyfriend. Where is he, by the way?” Jimin asks, scanning the crowd briefly.

“He ran into someone he knew.” Sooah turns to face him, leaning sideways against the wall. “Jimin.”

“Sooah.” He grins down at her, his gaze involuntarily flickering to her red lips. “Did he mention that I ran into him at Big Hit?”

“No. Was he supposed to?”

“Fans do that sometimes. How have we never been introduced before? I mean, we seem to have a lot in common.”

Sooah scoffs. “This might surprise you, but you are not first in line of the people I want to introduce my boyfriend to. But wait a second,” she adds, straightening up slightly, “weren’t you dating a girl, too? When do I get to meet her?” She looks around, as though hoping to spot her. “You didn’t bring her?”

Jimin frowns and it takes him a second to place the name. Ahnjong. The name, still one of the sweetest he’s ever heard, swims through his mind, as does the disastrous ending to their date two months ago.

“Yeah, that…” He rubs the back of his neck. “We, uh… we decided to see other people.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Not like, say, your boyfriend.”

“Jimin,” she repeats.

“Sooah.”

She sighs. “God, you’re cocky.”

Jimin chuckles as she rolls her eyes. “Hey, I love my fans, alright? They are what keep me going, Sooah. You should be more respectful of that.”

“Shut up.”

“What? You used to be one of them,” he reminds her.

“Yeah, and now I’m dating one of them.” She holds his gaze. “He’s my boyfriend, Jimin.”

“He’s a rookie.”

Sooah raises an eyebrow. “And?”

Whatever Jimin had been about to say goes straight out the window in an instant. “And…” He pauses, desperate suddenly to change tacks “… where does he find the time to date?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Where did you find the time to date?”

“I didn’t,” he points out forcefully. “That was the problem, apparently.”

“That was not the -“ Sooah breaks off abruptly, exhaling. “No. No,” she mutters, shaking her head before looking up at Jimin. “You really want to do this now?”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” he shoots back, even as his heart races. All it takes is a momentary lapse of emotion for them to fall back into the darkest pits of their history, and Jimin isn’t sure she wants that. Not with her new boyfriend in the vicinity.

Sooah sighs and looks away uncomfortably. “Look, aside from the girl that I met at yoga class today for the first time, I don’t know a single person here. Except for you.” She tilts her head and frowns slightly. “Can we please not do this now?”

A vision of teenage Kim Sooah, soft cheeks and sparkling eyes, whining cutely at him for the first time clouds Jimin’s mind. Even sweaty after volleyball practice with her hair unbrushed and tumbling down her shoulders, she was irresistible.

“You know Hoseok hyung,” he points out after a moment, mimicking her position.

She shakes her head. “Doesn’t count. He’s busy. In fact,” she continues, just as Jimin opens his mouth “word on the street is, he’s been prowling around the apartment and was last seen in the kitchen, taking pictures.”

He frowns. “What? Like, selfies?”

“No, pictures of the kitchen.” Sooah drops her hands from her hips to her sides. “I mean, I’m sorry to tell you this, Jimin, but your friend might be a crazy person.”

None of this makes a jot of sense to Jimin. He stares at her before clearing his throat. “Okay, we’ll - we’ll circle back to that,” he says quickly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “So… what? We’re going to play drinking games until your boyfriend joins us?”

“Yes,” she answers, looking relieved. “That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

“Fine. Twenty questions.” He smirks.

Sooah rolls her eyes. “Oh, God. Okay, twenty questions. But I’m warning you, you may not actually want the answers to some of your questions.” Her gaze darts to something over his shoulder and Jimin turns to see Alex wave back as he talks to a girl. “Do you mind if he joins us?”

Do I ever. “Hey,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I am all for hanging out with -“

“Do not say my biggest fans.”

Jimin scoffs. “I was going to say… I’m all for hanging out with my ex-girlfriend’s… new boyfriend.”

Sooah gives him a look before chuckling. “You are so transparent, Chim.”

Jimin laughs. “What? You can invite him if you want.”

“Nobody should play drinking games with you,” she states, poking him in the chest. “Not without supervision.”

He nudges her shoulder playfully with his. “You’re supervising me, aren’t you?”

“And we both know I’m a really good influence.” She taps his shoulder and grabs his arm, steering him to the drinks table. “Go on, choose your poison. Oh, wait, I know your poison,” she chuckles, grabbing the vodka and cranberry juice.

Jimin snickers as she makes him his drink, taking sips of her own from next to her. When she hands him the pink cocktail, smelling like just the right combination of sweetness and youth, he suddenly feels as though the entire night was leading to this: a wild Saturday night with Kim Sooah.

“Cheers.” She clinks his glass with his and watches as he takes the first sip, grinning when he dramatically smacks his lips.

“You can become a great bartender,” he tells her genuinely, his face already feeling warm from the vodka. “If this entire event planning thing doesn’t work.”

“It’s worked out well so far,” she says serenely. “I get to meet a lot of pretty cool people that way.”

Jimin bites his lip, remembering the last time he’d attended an event she was working at. He wonders if she’s truly being so bold as to bring that up, when he remembers that a work event is also where she’d met Alex. His drink seems less pink all of a sudden.

Sooah doesn’t seem to notice. “Okay, I’m going to go rescue Alex now,” she says. “I’ll be right back.”

“For twenty questions?”

“Or something.” She rolls her eyes but smiles, already taking a step in Alex’s direction. “Don’t make me regret this, Chim.”

Jimin simply raises his glass in response as he watches her go. Across the room, Alex doesn’t seem at all like he needs rescuing; his smile is the smile, the media smile that’s drilled into every trainee as he nods at the girls speaking to him.

It’s not quite Sooah’s move, he reflects. Jealousy had never been part of the many issues they had dealt with, which made sense given that there had never been another person that had entered their relationship. Just the two of them had been enough for it to implode each time.

As she reaches Alex and joins the conversation with ease, however, it occurs to Jimin that his data points are limited to their relationship only - and just because she wasn’t jealous with him, doesn’t mean she doesn’t get jealous at all.

The realisation confuses him to no end, as does the annoyance that comes with it. He gives her a proper once-over; she’s as gorgeous and sexy as ever, still somehow the life of the party despite not knowing anyone, but the attraction ends there. There’s too much baggage that prevents him from going further and the fact that one of them is in a relationship can finally signal the end of their ambiguous connection.

Sooah leans into Alex’s side then and he puts his arm around her shoulder. Jimin rolls his eyes, deciding he can’t watch this anymore; just because they’ve moved on doesn’t mean he needs a front row seat for their honeymoon period. He turns around and heads into the kitchen, only to be met by Hoseok with his phone pointed at nothing in particular.

“Uh, hyung?” Jimin steps in gingerly. “What are you -”

“Look at this,” interrupts Hoseok, not taking his eyes off the screen until he clicks a picture. He points to something in one of the lower cabinets and Jimin peers over his shoulder to check it out. “Look at how close the gas line is to that plug point.”

“The -”

“What if it sparks?” Hoseok shakes his head, eyes wide and manic. “The entire apartment could catch fire!”

“That’s a bit unlikely,” points out Jimin hesitantly. “And… why are you taking a picture of it?”

“I’m sending it to her brother,” he mutters, going back to examining the offending gas line. “God, this is so typical of Chaeyoung. So irresponsible.”

“So your solution is to tattle on her?”

“Well, she’s not going to listen to me.” Hoseok scoffs, turning and pointing to one of the upper cabinets. “Look here. Do you see that?” he asks, tapping a splintered piece of wood jutting out at his eye level. “I almost knocked my head on it.”

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Well… she’s about six inches shorter than you so it’s probably not as much a problem for her?”

“Irrelevant,” he dismisses immediately. “Anyone could get hurt. Look, I don’t like having to take such drastic measures, alright?” he continues. “But believe me, she is going to resist every single suggestion that either of us -“

At that moment, a shorter figure comes barrelling into the kitchen, leaving a faint flowery scent in her wake.

“Oh, God, it’s true,” she exclaims with dread. Reaching forward and snatching Hoseok’s camera, she gasps as she sees the picture on it. “Jesus Christ, oppa, why do you have to be such a freak?”

“I’m the freak? Look at your gas line!”

“There is nothing wrong with -”

“Chae - do you have any idea how dangerous it is to have it so exposed that it’s -”

“It doesn’t even matter! It’s not my apartment,” she reminds him, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. “It’s Sungmi’s, and I can’t go around changing things without discussing them with her.”

Hoseok glares at her before exhaling through his nose, apparently trying to calm himself. “What about this?” he demands, pointing at the broken cabinet.

Chaeyoung raises her eyebrows “What about it?”

“Do you need her permission to get things fixed, too?”

“Um, kind of, yeah,” she answers, looking a bit incredulous now. “I can’t afford to get things fixed by myself in any case. And besides,” she continues, reaching up and tapping the piece of wood, “neither Sungmi or I can even reach this.”

“I’m sure Chan will be more than happy to help you out.”

Even Jimin, who hasn’t known Chaeyoung very long at all, knows from the way her eyes widen that this was the wrong thing to say.

“Oh, of course you think Chan needs to come to my rescue!” She scoffs and places her drink on the counter with a loud thud. “You really don’t think I can make it a second without my perfect brother, do you?”

“That’s not what I meant! I just - okay, I’ll pay for it,” he backtracks hastily. “I don’t mind, really, just as long as you -”

“Seriously? I don’t even know when I’ll be able to pay you back.”

“You don’t have to -”

But Chaeyoung cuts him off. “And you’re overreacting, oppa,” she informs him, folding her arms across her chest. “The only person who can even reach this is Ice, and he’s never brought it up in all the -”

“Ice? How often is he over here?” He whips around to look at Jimin, as though expecting him to have the answer. Before Jimin can stutter out a response, however, someone else joins them in the kitchen.

“Hey,” a voice drawls, sounding like it’s coming from miles away. Everyone turns to see the aforementioned Ice, blue-grey hair, facial tattoo and crooked smile on full display. In one hand is a glass of whiskey and in the other, a joint between his fingers. “Thought I heard someone say my name.”

“Oh… hey, Ice,” says Chaeyoung, taking a step back.

“Hey, hey,” he replies, swaggering into the kitchen with that distinct aura of speaking from far away. “Everyone having fun?” he asks, reaching down to hug Chaeyoung without warning, who simply pats his shoulder as he steps away.

Ice doesn’t seem to realise, drifting sideways to hug Jimin next. “It’s a party, yo,” he informs them, raising his joint. “Come on in, man,” he says to Hoseok, apparently waiting for a hug. When he doesn’t move, Jimin suppresses a snort, immediately burying his face into his glass.

Ice frowns, looking mildly confused. “No?” He places a hand on Hoseok’s shoulder. “I like this one,” he says to no one in particular.

Hoseok, clearly speechless, simply stares at Ice’s hand before looking back at him, and then at Chaeyoung as if to say Really?

Even Chaeyoung shrugs, looking somewhat embarrassed until a few more people enter the kitchen and Ice is successfully distracted.

Jimin, who had been greatly enjoying the episode between Hoseok and this girl from his past who irritated the life out of him, takes this opportunity to intervene.

“Alright, who needs another drink?” he asks in a low voice so only the two of them can hear.

Chaeyoung turns to him as though just realising he’s there. “Jimin,” she states, “will you please tell Hoseok that he’s being insane?”

“Oh, grow up, will you?” Hoseok snaps back.

“You grow up -“

“Okayyy, tensions are high,” interrupts Jimin soothingly, “because everybody’s too sober.” He turns Chaeyoung around by the shoulders and steers her out of the kitchen. Hoseok follows without a word, rolling his eyes.

They reach the drinks table again where Sooah seems to have successfully rescued her boyfriend.

“Sooah!” Jimin points at Chaeyoung and Hoseok frantically. “We have a sobriety emergency for you.”

“On it,” she replies, without missing a beat. “Cosmo for you and… Hoseok? For you?”

“I’m driving,” he answers sullenly.

“We’ll get Suga hyung to pick us up,” interjects Jimin hastily. “He’ll have tequila,” he tells Sooah.

“Perfect.” She bustles around the tables, gathering her paraphernalia and mixing a row of drinks with precision. Jimin watches with admiration, amusement and a bit of nostalgia while stealing glances at Hoseok and Chaeyoung beside him, both of whom glare in opposite directions.

“Alright, drink up, everyone.” Sooah passes a drink each to Hoseok and Chaeyoung, followed by one for Jimin. “You need to freshen yours up, too,” she adds with a smirk.

He holds up his half-finished drink. “But I’m not -” He breaks off when Sooah clinks her own half-empty glass with his. “Right.”

“Bottoms up, Chim.”

Both of them guzzle down their drinks in one go before emerging, warm and flushed. Jimin’s face feels like it’s on fire and his throat burns. But when he spots Sooah shaking out her hair and reaching enthusiastically for her fresh drink, he rallies.

“Cheers, guys,” he says, turning so that Hoseok and Chaeyoung can clink their glasses, too, when he notices something amiss. “Alex,” he adds, raising his eyebrows. “No drink for you?”

Alex, standing a step behind Sooah and smiling as he watched them drink, looks surprised to be spoken to. “Oh, I - I have rehearsal tomorrow.”

“And?”

“And… well, I don’t – I don’t want to be hungover during it.” He chuckles sheepishly. “Yeonjun hyung will kill me.”

“One drink won’t get you hungover,” says Jimin dismissively, reaching for a can of beer on the table and tossing it to him, which he catches at the last moment.

“You don’t have to drink that, Alex.” Sooah cuts in. “Jimin.”

“What?” Jimin half-chuckles, but there’s suddenly far less humour in it. “He can’t be the only one not drinking. They’re called drinking games for a reason.”

“I don’t mind,” says Alex quickly. “It’s just one drink, noona. And… beer doesn’t have sugar,” he adds a bit uncertainly, glancing at the label.

“Exactly. And he’ll work off the carbs at practice tomorrow, anyway.” Jimin grins. “Been there, done that.”

Sooah fixes him with a steely look that he returns innocently, taking a sip of his vodka drink. Behind her, Alex’s face seems to crease at the mention of carbs.

“Just one,” he mutters to himself, before holding it a few inches away and cracking it open. A bit of foam overflows and drips on the floor, but he takes a big gulp anyway. “Good beer,” he says after a moment.

“We also have breezers -” Chaeyoung starts to say but Hoseok catches her eye and shakes his head an infinitesimal amount, causing her to fall silent.

“Alright, now that everyone has their drinks,” continues Jimin, deliberately not looking at Sooah, “we can begin. Twenty questions, you said?”

“You said. And drinking games are perfectly possible without alcohol,” adds Sooah, apparently not about to let this go. “Remember your first drinking game?”

Jimin’s smile fades a bit as flashes surface from the recesses of his memory: a crowded house, a glass of Coke - and laughter from his classmates. Sooah hadn’t rushed to his defense this quickly then.

“Yeah, I remember,” he replies after a moment. “Just making sure Alex doesn’t make the same mistake.”

“That’s not your call, though. He can decide what he wants to do.”

“Wow, did you hear that, oppa?” Chaeyoung pipes up. “Sound familiar?”

Hoseok scoffs. “Seriously? How is what I said similar to this?”

“It’s the way you said it, like you think I can’t do a single thing right.”

“That sounds familiar,” mutters Jimin into his drink, just loud enough for Sooah to hear.

“Oh, God, Jimin,” she snaps, rolling her eyes. “Now you’re just reaching. You can drink if you want, but you don’t get to tell others how to -”

“It’s a party! Let loose here because you can’t anywhere else - remember when you told me that?”

“I remember that that was in the context of you worrying about your math homework at a party, Jimin.”

Jimin gasps, his cheeks growing hot. “Never have I ever worried about my math -”

“Oh, are we playing Never Have I Ever?” A voice interrupts them, sounding incongruously excited. Everyone turns to see Sungmi and her boyfriend Ice in tow, holding a drink and a joint respectively. When no one responds, she frowns. “No? Damn, this party must be going worse than I thought.”

“We can play Never Have I Ever,” offers Chaeyoung, turning to the others. “I’ll go first. Never have I ever… poked my nose in someone else’s business,” she finishes, looking straight at Hoseok.

He gives her an unimpressed look and takes an exaggerated sip of his drink, wincing slightly. Meanwhile, everyone else in the circle takes a sip as well, some sheepish, some shameless and, in Jimin’s case, with a bit of guilt.

“Your turn, Jimin,” says Chaeyoung, sounding satisfied.

“Okay, um…” Jimin wracks his brain, the alcohol suddenly making his mind swim. “Never have I ever dated a carbon copy of my ex.”

He watches as all the expression leaves Sooah’s face, but he turns away, looking questioningly at everyone in the circle. Hoseok wrinkles his nose while Chaeyoung snorts and shakes her head. Sungmi tilts her head thoughtfully and takes a sip, however. Across the makeshift circle, Sooah deliberately places her glass on the table while, to Jimin’s surprise, Alex takes a small sip of his beer.

“Alright, your turn, hyung,” says Jimin after a moment.

Hoseok’s eyes widen as he scrambles for a question. “Um, never have I ever… been to a party where I don’t know a single person apart from the host?”

Every single person in the circle takes a drink, including Ice, who takes a sip of his girlfriend’s.

“That was a good one,” remarks Sungmi, smiling with humour. “Okay, I’m next - and we’re going to make this exciting now,” she adds, rubbing her hands dramatically. “Okay, never have I ever… had a sex dream about someone in this room.”

A sort of silence seems to spread through the circle. Swallowing, Jimin takes a hesitant sip of his drink, glancing as quickly as he can at Sooah. She takes a sip, too, her eyes on the contents of her glass the entire time. Apart from them, Alex takes a sheepish sip, and Sungmi and Ice both take turns as well. Jimin feels something move next to his elbow but ignores it, eager to move the game along.

“Babe, that was an easy one,” drawls Ice, winking at the circle. “We’re all people, we all love, we all dream,” he rambles, taking another long puff of his joint. “I’ve had dreams, too, you know? I’ve had dreams about my lovely lady here -” He pulls Sungmi to his side by the waist and kisses her neck “- I’ve had dreams about my tattoo artist, I’ve have had dreams of Sungmi and my tattoo artist, Sungmi and her roommate -”

“Wait, what did you say?” Hoseok begins sharply, but Chaeyoung immediately interrupts him.

“Okay, no, the game, the game! Uh, Ice - it’s your turn, I think,” she adds hastily, stepping closer to Jimin. But Ice waves a hand good-naturedly.

“Nah, I’m good, sweetheart. I live here, in the mind and the -”

“Okay, moving on,” interrupts Sungmi, and Jimin guesses her boyfriend has finally made her uncomfortable as well. “It’s, uh - your turn,” she says, pointing at Alex. “I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”

“Oh, I’m -”

“This is Alex,” says Jimin brightly. “He’s Sooah’s boyfriend.” Sungmi’s blank expression tells Jimin a moment later that she obviously has no idea who Sooah is either, but she shrugs eventually.

“You go, Alex.”

“Um -” With his wide eyes, full and parted lips, and his hair falling effortlessly over his forehead, he looks like every label’s dream idol. Jimin taps his foot impatiently, an act that doesn’t go unnoticed by a few others.

“Okay, uh, never have I -”

“Make it a good one, Alex,” warns Sungmi.

“Ah, I’m sure he will, unnie,” snickers Chaeyoung, raising her glass encouragingly. “Come on, Alex, the pressure is on!”

“- ever - okay -”

“They’re just kidding, babe,” murmurs Sooah with a smile, squeezing his arm.

“Only a bit,” adds Jimin, winking and ignoring her frown.

“- lost my virginity to someone in this room!”

Everyone processes this before a few chuckles break out. “Alright, that was a good one,” allows Sungmi. “Not one I can drink to, unfortunately.”

“Yeah, we may have gone into historic territory here,” agrees Chaeyoung, “but you just made the game a lot more interesting. Cheers.”

No one seems to notice Jimin and Sooah lock gazes for a moment before quietly sipping their drinks. Memories that Jimin had always treasured threaten to resurface, but there is nothing he wants to be reminded of less at the moment.

“Your turn, Sooah.” Alex nudges her gently.

“Right.” She clears her throat and stares at the floor. “Never have I ever lied to someone while breaking up with them.”

Jimin scoffs audibly but it fortunately gets drowned in a sea of agreement, with almost everyone taking a sip of their drink. He doesn’t, however, shaking his head slightly at Sooah. A part of him is unsurprised; this had to happen eventually. There was seldom a time when he and Sooah got together and didn’t begin descending into their history - and it was never pretty.

“My turn, then,” chimes Chaeyoung. Her drink is almost over now and she stumbles slightly next to him. “Um… never have I ever been cheated on.”

Sungmi rolls her eyes and drinks, as does Hoseok. Across from the circle, Sooah lifts her drink to her mouth and pauses for a moment before drinking. Her eyes flicker to Jimin before looking away.

His heart thuds in his chest. Nothing would ever be good enough for Kim Sooah. Not two years of a relationship, not how much they meant to each other - none of it. All that would ever matter to her would be how they broke up - even if part of it wasn’t true.

“Jimin?”

He comes out of it, chewing the inside of his lip. “Never have I ever…” His eyes dart up to Alex, who seems to be realising that something is awry. “... dated another idol’s ex-girlfriend.”

No one drinks, predictably. Jimin ignores the “huh?”s and the joking groans, his gaze solely on Alex who, frowning at Jimin, slowly takes a sip of his drink. Next to him, Sooah closes her eyes.

Jimin waits to feel victorious, for it’s clear that Alex now knows about his and Sooah’s shared history. But a deep-seated bitterness creeps through instead. New boyfriend in, old boyfriend out.

“Okay… who’s next?”

“Oh, that’s me, I think,” says Hoseok distractedly, reaching out to steady Chaeyoung. “Um - I don’t know. Can I pass?”

“I’ll take your turn.” Sooah’s voice rings out, calm and sharp. She looks at Jimin through steely, heavy-lidded eyes; standing next to a tall and handsome boyfriend, Jimin can almost imagine this is high school once again - but in a parallel universe where she would ever look at him with anything but affection.

“Never have I ever caused a friend’s break-up.”

There are scoffs from around the circle, with Sungmi and Ice both taking a sip each. From next to him, Chaeyoung takes a sheepish sip as well, while Jimin glares at Sooah. The cranberry and vodka drink suddenly looks vile in his glass and he feels like he could throw up.

“Think I need some air,” he mutters, turning around and leaving the circle amidst the mild chatter. He places the glass on some surface on the way as he nudges his way through the crowd of drunken young adults. He just about exits the apartment when he realises he has no plan whatsoever of where to go, but he knows he can’t go back. So he carries on, reaching the end of the hallway where the warm summer breeze of the night gives him some respite from the haze of smoke at the party.

He hears footsteps behind him then, right on cue.

“Storming out, Jimin?” The footsteps stop abruptly. “Really?”

He doesn’t even turn around. “Don’t start, Sooah.”

“Jesus Christ. You have to grow out of this.”

“Grow out of this?” Jimin finally whips around, momentarily surprised to see her standing so close to him. Goosebumps have erupted on her bare shoulders but she doesn’t seem to have noticed.

“Yeah. It’s been long enough.” Sooah gives him a distinctly unimpressed look, as though this fight isn’t worth her time.

“You know what? Why don’t you just go back to your boyfriend?” Jimin says scathingly.

“I will, just as soon you stop - okay, no, you are not walking away from me right now.”

Jimin rounds on her the moment he hears footsteps behind him again. “You completely attacked me in there!” he blurts out accusingly.

“Because you attacked Alex!” Sooah sighs in frustration. “He’s my boyfriend, Jimin. You can’t go there - you know that.”

“You’ve known Alex for three months. And you’ve known me for six years, Sooah,” he reminds her, knowing deep down that it hardly matters. But the words spill out like they’ve been pressing up against his vocal chords, desperate to get out since the evening began.

She’s quiet for a moment, biting the inside of her cheek. “Yeah, well.” She gives him a look that’s part firm and part sympathetic. “Unfortunately, current boyfriend trumps ex-boyfriend. I’m sorry, that’s just the way it is.”

Jimin scoffs, ignoring his stomach sinking. “What happened to old friends?”

“You are an old friend, but you’re also my ex. And boyfriend trumps -”

“Yeah, I got it,” he interrupts her, rolling his eyes. “I thought it was all in good fun,” he says after a moment, looking away from her.

Even without looking, he can hear the skepticism in her voice. “Really?”

“Yes. I - I may have gone a bit overboard in the end,” he admits, swallowing as he remembers Alex’s confused face, the realisation dawning on him. “I just… didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” Definitely not with someone.

“Jimin, it’s been five years,” she reminds him in a low voice. “We’ve both dated other people since then; it can’t be a surprise that -”

“I don’t care that you’re dating him,” he interrupts her again, realising as he says it that it’s true. He doesn’t care, not really. Not like that, anyway. “You and I dated in high school. I never expected us to end up married or anything. Okay? We’ve all moved on.”

Sooah doesn’t say anything, just continues looking at him, a small frown on her face. She’s confused.

Jimin can relate. It’s immeasurably frustrating not being able to put his finger on the problem. “It’s just weird… seeing it up close,” he finishes lamely, knowing it’s the best he can come up with right now.

“Even now?”

“Yeah. I mean, the last time I saw it up close was…” He shrugs. “... when we were sixteen. With Daehyun.”

Sooah’s eyes widen right on cue. “Oh, God,” she exclaims, taking a deep breath.

“Come on, you know that -”

“If you bring up Daehyun one more time -”

She’s interrupted by the door to the apartment thudding open. A couple of people spill out, loud and drunk. Sooah turns back to him.

“Alright. I’m done.”

“Are you?”

“Yeah. Because I can’t have this conversation one more time, Jimin.” She shakes her head. “I’m going back inside.”

“Yeah, you do that.” Jimin watches her walk back inside, steps quick and steady, despite how much she’s drunk all night. Just as she enters, two people pass her by. Jimin realises with a start that it’s Hoseok and Chaeyoung.

“- only came here to criticise me!” Chaeyoung’s voice is loud and shrill compared to Sooah’s low one.

“If you think this is criticising, then you’re missing the point,” says Hoseok loftily, rolling his eyes. “I just don’t want you to kill yourself, okay? Sorry for being the only adult around here,” he mutters, striding down the hallway towards Jimin.

“Oh, please,” she snaps, scoffing. “You’re just programmed to find something wrong with everything I do.”

“And you’re just programmed to be a brat!”

“Great! Now you sound like my dad. Why don’t you call him and have drinks over it?”

“Seriously? I’m looking out for you because you’re my best friend’s sister,” he points out, turning around to face her. “I didn’t have to spend my Saturday night with Fire and Ice, you know?”

“Oh, because she has red hair? Clever.” Chaeyoung crosses her arms across her chest. “And you know what? Your best friend,” she continues, “doesn’t give a shit, alright? He knows I’m not twelve anymore. If he doesn’t care, why do you?”

“I - I don’t!” Hoseok sputters, going red in the face. “You know what? Fine. Hang out with that Ice and his group of Neanderthals - I don’t even care.”

“Great,” she says sarcastically. “Now you sound like the Hoseok I grew up with!” With one last glare, she turns around and stalks back into the house exactly the way Sooah had a few minutes ago.

Hoseok stands motionless for a moment before turning to face Jimin, eyes wide. “What the hell just happened?”

Jimin shakes his head, lost for words. “I have no fucking idea,” he mutters. “Do you want to call Suga hyung or should I?”

—

The doorbell rings and startles Namjoon, who spills a couple of drops of milk on his t-shirt.

“Damn it,” he mutters, dropping his spoon back into the bowl of cereal and holding the t-shirt away from his chest. “Can you get that?” he asks Jungkook, who’s sitting across from him at the breakfast table.

Jungkook nods and heads towards the door as Namjoon disappears into his room, opening it to see someone he hasn’t in a while.

“Sooah?” He chuckles in mild disbelief. “Um - hey, noona. Didn’t expect to see you… here.”

“Yeah, I know,” she says lightly, biting her lip. “Is Jimin here?”

Jungkook’s pause before he nods tells her that he knows something happened last night. “Come on in. He was pretty drunk last night so he went straight to bed,” he adds, shutting the door behind her and beckoning her inside. “I’ll just get him.”

Sooah nods as he shuffles inside, hearing a door open and him softly calling Jimin hyung. “He’ll be right out,” he says generously, coming back out from the hallway and going back to the kitchen table. A minute later, Jimin emerges from the same direction, his hair messy and eyes still a little droopy. He doesn’t look wholly surprised to see her.

“Morning,” she says after a moment. “How’d you sleep?”

“Crap.” He gives her a quick once-over. “Are you hungover?”

“Not in the least. You?”

He shakes his head, frowning a little at the movement. “Nope. Not at all.”

“Right.” Sooah falls silent, glancing surreptitiously at Jungkook as he scarfs down his breakfast. Jimin copies her, and they stare at him until he looks up from his phone.

“What?” he asks through a mouthful of cornflakes.

“Hey, Jungkook,” she begins. “Um, do you mind if…” She trails off, biting her lip when Jungkook simply frowns.

“Leave us alone for a minute?” Jimin prompts, and Jungkook immediately nods.

“Oh. Yeah, okay. Right.” He climbs off the chair, gathering his bowl, a plate of toast and a bowl of ready-to-eat kimchi, with his phone piled on top of the bread. “I’ll just… finish inside,” he mumbles, balancing everything and precariously walking inside.

Jimin turns back to face her again. “So… what’s up?” He frowns as she throws something to him, catching it easily. “Hangover pills?” he reads off the label. “I told you, I’m not hungover.”

Sooah shrugs. “Just keep it. For some other time.”

“Okay,” he says, slipping it into the pocket of his track pants. “Thanks. Was that it?”

Without his hair styled and his expensive clothes, he looks… young. His cherubic face, even with a straight expression and tired eyes, stirs an old, innocent adoration in her.

“I wanted to talk about last night,” she says. “Sober.”

Jimin shakes his head. “We don’t have to. I was - I was a bit of a dick, I know.”

“Yeah… but so was I.” Sooah’s eyes flicker to the floor. “I got defensive when you were picking on Alex and… I may have said some stuff I didn’t mean to.”

He nods slowly. “Guess I didn’t know what it’s like on the other side,” he says, cracking a half-smile. “I’m sorry if I… did I get you in trouble? When he found out that we used to…” He gestures between the two of them.

“No, you didn’t. He was a little surprised, yeah, but… kind of impressed?” She shrugs. “He really looks up to you.”

“That’s nice of him, I guess. He seems like a good kid.”

She chuckles. “He’s not that much younger.”

“No?”

When he doesn’t say anything further, Sooah sighs. “Jimin… I didn’t mean to say all that stuff last night.”

“No, you were right. Current boyfriend trumps ex-boyfriend,” he repeats, swallowing. “You weren’t the only one thinking it.”

“No, Jimin, that’s not true. Okay, fine, it’s true if I have to choose between them,” she amends, rolling her eyes. “In that case, I’m forced to choose my boyfriend over my ex.”

“Yeah. Right.”

“So don’t make me choose.” Just as she’d expected, Jimin’s shoulders relax, as though he hadn’t considered this. “Jimin, you are my ex but you don’t have to be just that for the rest of our lives. Come on, we’ve been broken up for longer than we were together - isn’t it time we actually became friends?”

“Friends?” He says it like it’s a foreign word. “I - Sooah, I get what you’re going for, I really do, but…” He takes a deep breath, like he’s bracing himself to say something. “I don’t know how we’ll do as friends, honestly.”

“Why? I can be a good friend,” she says, a little defensively. “I had a pretty good circle of friends, you know?”

Jimin chuckles. “No offense, but that is not a group I want to join. Come on, you’re talking about your high school friends, right? Sooah, they were awful,” he confesses, shaking his head. “Those girls didn’t have a shred of loyalty - they’d sell their mothers for gossip. And those guys you hung out with?” He exhales in disgust. “They weren’t friends. They were complete jerks and they just wanted to get with whichever girl would give in first.”

There’s a moment while Sooah processes this. “Right,” she says. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says immediately, the regret audible.

“I know you didn’t,” she assures him. “I know, Jimin, because you’re a good guy. You were the best person I knew,” she admits, hoping he believes her. “That’s why I fell for you, and not any of those other jerks.”

Jimin says nothing, his eyes falling to the floor.

“You still are one of the best people I know,” she adds after a moment. “And I don’t want you to just disappear from my life because I’m dating someone. I’d rather have you as my friend than this - this guy from my past I hook up with a couple times a year.”

When Jimin still doesn’t respond, she sighs.

“Fine. Whatever. I’m still your friend.” Sooah stares at him, hoping for something, anything. “Bye, then.”

“You really think it’ll work?”

“Yeah, I do. We get along pretty well, in case you haven’t noticed. We can try at least,” she adds when he continues looking doubtful.

“You’re sure you won’t fall in love with me?” he asks seriously.

Sooah stares before snorting. “Jesus, Chim,” she says admonishingly as he bursts into giggles, “don’t say whatever pops into your head.”

“Sorry, I forgot you’re dating another idol now. Probably not a big deal for you,” he allows.

“It wasn’t a big deal when I was dating the first idol either.”

“Not even with his abs?”

“I preferred his calculus notes over his abs.”

Jimin makes a face. “Some friend.”

Sooah smiles back. There’s still something resembling hesitance in his expression, but she hopes it’s temporary. It’s unchartered territory for both of them, but a necessary change. She suspects it was what scared Jimin last night in the first place.

“I should go,” she says after a moment. “I just came to…”

“Ask for my forgiveness?”

She rolls her eyes. “Sure.”

Jimin grins, and she breathes a silent sigh of relief. He walks her to the door and for the first time in a long time, Sooah looks forward to their common future.

“By the way,” he asks, just as she’s stepping out, “you - you don’t actually think that I cheated on you. Right? When we broke up?” he clarifies.

Sooah frowns. “Um… no. Why - oh, the game? Last night?”

Jimin nods, his lips pursed. “You drank.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” She shakes her head and pats his arm comfortingly. “That wasn’t about you. Like you said,” she adds with a half-chuckle, “most of them were jerks.”

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

#jimin x oc #hoseok x oc #jimin x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin fanfic #hoseok fanfic #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bangtanwhq #bangtantheatrenet #bangtanoasis #bangtanbathhouse #houseofddaeng #k-vanity #wkcnet #bts jimin angst #bts j-hope fanfic

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orangameelectronics · 2 days

Video

youtube

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blubushie · 1 year

Note

Hello blu! Here's the full wiki for the survival manual thing: https://github.com/ligi/SurvivalManual/wiki

It's kinda long so I dont expect you to read it but if you want to skim it and talk about things that catch your eye you can. I will compile a list of the things I find strange and will send it soon

Righto, let's go through this a bit!

First thing is that it's apparently based on the FM 3-05.70 Field Manual, which is good. That's the current survival manual used by the US Military (or Army, at least).

From what I've seen so far I don't think I'm going to be disagreeing much with what this manual contains. It's INCREDIBLY detailed by its explanations (much like its source of inspiration) and I've only just reached the "Power" section (under "Home").

My only complaint so far is this:

Powerbanks with solar input sometimes will have internal batteries, so they will charge during the day and still provide power through the night or in harsher weather until that battery is emptied. The solar chargers for my phone and headset both have internal batteries and if you can get your hands on one they're defo worth it. I do suggest getting the more expensive ones since the cheap ones have very small internal batteries and will not hold enough energy to fully charge a phone. Mine are the 18w Blavor one which I got for about $50USD.

The best is the BigBlue3 which you can get for $73USD on Amazon, however (while this charges your shit exceptionally fast) it doesn't have an internal battery and so it cannot charge during the night time. This is something I use to charge my external backup powerbanks, though!

On the topic of nonsolar external powerbanks, I'd recommend the Anker PowerCore Essential 2000. It has a 20,000mAh battery capacity which means this is going to take forever to charge--about 10 and a half hours the last time I timed mine on a wall outlet--but it's more than worth it for the capacity it holds. You can get it for a little over $35 on Amazon and this is the energy bank I use (I have two)! It gives my phone a full 5 recharges before it's empty. I use mine for emergencies just in case my solar chargers go kaput or can't charge fast enough. I give mine a weekly recharge on the generator just to make sure they're topped off and it doesn't take more than 10-15 minutes of running the generator for them to reach full charge again.

#blu whos #bushman #how did i end up rambling about energy banks? the world will never know

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chaoticgeminate · 2 years

Text

You Give me Hope When I am Lost

Dedicated to @writeforfandoms

This piece is a NON-CANON fanwork of Jen's Dragon Rancher series, until she confirms or uses any of this as canon then assume it is not. Thank you for allowing me to write this, love. Go read her series HERE ❤

Pairing: Din x f!Reader Word Count: 3.1k Rating: M (Mentioned cruelty and violence)

Sleep wasn’t coming easily, your mind was buzzing and your heart still raced even as you curled more into a ball than you already were, the bundle of warmth cradled against your lower belly barely stirred; you could still hear the sirens, the shrill alarms deafening as you escaped the facility. It was jarring, learning what you had about what you even did.

All you’d wanted to do was help dragons, to create medicines for ailments that developed with age or through the breeding process, you hadn’t known precisely why your bosses had wanted such an extensive breakdown on the properties of dragons at a biological and molecular level but it made sense knowing your goal was to make medicines. To stop dragons from developing crippled wings, or underdeveloped sensory organs, to give them a better life as humans sought to continue modifying them to their pleasure.

Now, you knew the truth.

The meeting had been an accident, you could still feel your heart sink to your feet and then jump back to your throat, or maybe it hadn’t been an accident? The guard that had been in charge of transporting Grogu hadn’t seemed all that apologetic when he’d entered your lab, saying something about not realizing there’d been a change in the subject’s examination room before leaving, you hadn’t even had the chance to stop him before the little one had woken up from his nap.

One look at him and you knew something was wrong with the infant drake, his eyes were too big and his face too flat, and one look at his chart had given you all the answers you needed. You hadn’t known about the tracking chip, the bandage on his arm was finally free of staining, but you couldn’t ever go back to your old life now. You didn’t even know who to trust anymore, since your lab was supposedly employed by the government, with everything you were learning you didn’t know if that was a lie too.

Honestly, you were lucky that Grogu had developed some of his draconic powers. Sure you’d gotten a nasty black eye and split lip, trying to get away from the two security officials, and there was a burn on your hand where his stream of fire had been too close to your skin but you were free and alive.

Hopping into the cargo car of an old fashioned train had been reckless, something from an old film even, but it was your best bet to get away fast without using your car. All you had with you was your wallet, the clothes on your back, and Grogu. You couldn’t even use your bank or credit cards, no doubt they would be tracking those, and tears pooled in your lashes with how shitty this situation had become. You couldn’t leave him there though, you couldn’t shake the guilt or hide the disgust that your research had been used to this end, and you didn’t know how long you would last on your own.

Sleep came eventually, as the train rumbled and screeched its way down the tracks, and you hugged your hoodie tighter to your body as your consciousness finally drifted away.

“Hey!”

Panic flooded your still waking mind, it felt like it had only been minutes, the stranger’s voice loud and jarring as you flailed briefly and stared up at the man in work coveralls who was unloading the car; his eyes drifted to your abdomen and your arms hugged the swell tighter reflexively. His eyes softened as he crouched down, hands up in a peaceful gesture, and you could only imagine what he was thinking.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't realize- how far do you need to keep going?"

With Grogu sleeping soundly, likely quite tired from his exertion before, you managed to find an ally (even if he thought you were pregnant and fleeing an abuser) who gave you a hundred cash and bought you a ticket for the passenger train in a small private room under his name. You walked slowly since your limbs felt stiff after being curled up in a ball for so long, your hood pulled down as low as it could be and the baseball hat that Clark had given you was also pulled low so the brim could help keep your identity from the stoplight cameras.

Clark had blushed when you called him your superhero and promised that he wouldn't say a thing about seeing you and you prayed that whoever hired you would never find him even as you made your way to the passenger train and boarded. Your car was small but cozy, had a pull down dining table, and you closed the curtains tightly before sitting on the bed and taking stock of what you had. A hundred and some odd dollars cash, an ID that would probably get flagged by any police officer by now, a powered off cellphone you couldn't touch, and a dragon-human hybrid that was still a baby.

You kept him close to your body, knowing that young drakes needed warmth and food the most, and his steady breathing was a small blessing. A tap on the door had you checking through the curtain first, the woman was wheeling a dish of food, and you cracked the door carefully.

"I didn't order anything."

"I have something else for you."

A note, you accepted, passed between the two of you quickly before she continued down the hall as if she hadn’t just interrupted your peace and you only opened it after you locked the door. The penmanship was ornate, looping cursive swirls, but the contents made your blood run cold.

You cannot run from them alone, I humbly offer you assistance, if you wish to accept my offer I will be in the private dining car alone at half past three. We will be alone if you need to feed the little one.

Someone had found you, for good or for ill, and your hands shook a little at the idea of being trapped on this train; they knew your car number, they knew you had Grogu, and they were probably giving you the chance to surrender peacefully. You had a few hours to decide and the tears flowed freely as you thought of what your life might look like now, if they even allowed you to live after this, and you unzipped your hoodie enough to see the sleeping baby and to rub his back through the cotton fabric.

“I’ll figure something out, you’re not going back to them.” Come hell or high water you weren’t going to allow them to continue using, abusing, or hurting the infant drake-human they’d created. Even if it meant going public in a livestream somewhere and praying one of the international groups that handled the protection of dragons got involved, even if it meant finding some ranch somewhere, just something to ensure Grogu was able to live a free life.

In the end you chose to visit the dining car, Grogu was awake but still after you’d impressed the importance upon him, and the fact that he understood you was enough to make you wonder just what else he knew and remembered. He couldn’t speak so you had no metric for how intelligent he really was in that little head of his, he had to be pretty damn smart if he knew to just continue clinging to you and being quiet, and the idea of making up some sort of game or activity to gauge his intelligence was floating around in your head.

As the note stated the private car was empty save for one man, his gray suit jacket seemed very formal and his messy dark curls paired with the neat scruff of patchy facial hair would have been enticing in any other scenario, and those dark eyes lifted to look at you before they softened marginally and he got up to pull the chair out across from his. Your feet felt heavy even though your steps barely made a sound on the plush carpet, taking the seat with a nod, and his touch to the damaged skin of your face as he tipped your chin up made you jolt.

Grogu’s rumbling little noise was a warning and the man cooed softly.

“Hush, little one, I only wished to ascertain the damage. I truly admire your bravery, miss, it takes a certain level of it to do what you’ve chosen to do.”

He returned to his seat and you could feel your eyes welling up again, wanting to hope against all odds that he really was here to help. You had no idea what the fuck you were going to do, especially on a moving train, if Grogu decided to defend you again.

“I don’t feel very brave.” It was a whispered admittance, your voice hoarse from your earlier tears, and he poured you a glass of ice water from the pitcher beside him. You studied the clear liquid, sniffing it before deciding to drink, and his eyes crinkled at the corners as something like pride filled those liquid dark irises.

“Brave and cautious, you’re quite wise but I suppose that’s a given considering what you did for a living. I shall be frank, while you peruse the menu, but you’re not going to be free of them on your own. Those people you work for, the ones that tricked you into your employment, have a very large reach of influence for their illicit work.” You swallowed thickly, work you had helped them do, the guilt was back and the man must have known as he held his hand up.

“Trust me, you had no way of knowing the truth if they hadn’t wanted you to. Now, I don’t know everything but I can’t imagine you had time to prepare for your flight from your place of employment. I have a contact that I can reach out to, who will escort you both to a place of safety, but you must lay low until I am able to determine you and the little one are truly safe. I have a new phone for you, if you could provide me your old device, but you cannot sign into anything-”

“I know. No social media, no banking or credit card applications or websites, nothing tied to my identity in any way like e-mail or billpay accounts. Not even restaurants or take out places with accounts are safe anymore.”

“Correct, I will handle the rest of your monetary affairs so that you don’t wind up with collections and a repossessed property. I can’t do much for your vehicle, I’m afraid, but you won’t need it for a time and I’m not against providing a new one for you given the circumstances.”

“Why? Why are you- how long have you been after my employers?”

His silence was thick with tension but you had to know, it didn’t make sense how he knew about what happened and why he was so quick to help, he had to have been planning this and you thought about all the events leading up to now. The realization you reached must have shown on your face as he offered you an apology laden look, as he basically confessed that he’d orchestrated everything, that the guard was one of his or at least paid off by him and that he’d chosen you for a reason.

“A very long time, to answer your question, and I hope that when this is over you don’t detest me for what I’ve done.”

“I- how can I when you set me free? I would have continued to go my whole life working for them, helping them do things like… like what they did to Grogu, up until someone either shut them down or the truth got out. I would rather die knowing the truth than live in ignorance and say I did nothing.” Your conviction was clear, you didn’t care about how stupid it sounded and maybe later you would find a reason to hate the man across from you more than you hated yourself.

He rubbed his lower lip with his thumb gently.

“You named him?”

“No he- he told me.”

Grogu peeked out of the fabric of your hoodie as you brought the zipper down, eying the man with a look of distrust that made you smile, and he pressed his little tridactyl hand to yours. It wasn’t so much words as it was a feeling, he was telling you that he would protect you.

“That is- that is very curious. I suggest you choose a meal for you and the little one, whatever you both want, and I will not only provide but I will explain more about the arrangement for your travel.”

You looked over the menu now, deciding it would be best to gather your strength, and carefully read the menu out to the little drake so he could choose what he wanted; all while the man watched the two of you with intense eyes and a quiet wonder.

Having a phone again, a new ID with a new name on it and a picture that looked like you but not exactly like you, as well as a plethora of prepaid VISA gift cards to use opened up new opportunities; it was a fall back if you chose to try and make it on your own, the nameless man’s way of offering you a choice. But you already knew, especially after he explained what the Golden Circle had done in broad terms, the likelihood of getting to safety on your own was probably not happening.

His contact would be waiting for you at the next town, which was coming up quickly, and you were happy that Grogu was content; refreshed from eating, his ears -which were the biggest mystery of all in your opinion- were tucked low to continue the illusion that you were expecting, and you ran through the description of the man meant to help you one more time.

Djarin, the name you were given, would be in a thick brown flight suit with a silver helmet; you wouldn’t see his face most likely, his helmet did slightly alter his voice, and he was gruff but not unkind. Your eyes scanned the crowd as you got off the train, hat brim pulled low and hood up, and near the back of the crowd you saw the silvery helmet nearly over the crowd before making your way over. People gave you space, one glance at your still-healing face and then to your arms cradling the swell under your hoodie more than enough for them to back away, and you looked up at the helmet tilted toward you.

“Djarin?”

He nodded and said your name softly, making you also nod, and the man motioned to the door before pressing one of those large hands against the small of your back to guide you out. The security took one look at you and then him, the way you were pressing close to his side, and seemed to accept that you were okay with whoever this was and you thanked small mercies for that since you didn’t exactly want an altercation to start here.

“Have you ever flown on a dragon before?” Djarin’s voice was gruff with a rasp that you didn’t know the origin of, whether it was natural or because of the helmet, and you shook your head gently.

“No, I don’t- I need to get a thicker coat I think.” Altitude meant cold, your thin hoodie and work clothes would hardly be able to handle the cooler atmosphere, and Djarin hummed as the two of you approached the massive silver dragon that was waiting for you. There were bits of orange in her scales and that large head turned to look at you, watching you as you held up one hand and let her inspect you first, her snout pressing to the flat of your hand, and there was no way you could fight the smile that pulled at your split lip as you scratched those smooth scales and crooned like she was just an overgrown house cat.

You weren’t sure how much time passed with you just petting this dragon, indulging in your most childish dream of even meeting a dragon, when you looked over at Djarin to see him watching you; heat flooded your face as he held up what looked like a thick leather jacket and a spare helmet. The silver dragon let out a rumbling noise, almost like she was pouting, when you pulled away but she accepted the attention from her rider instead as you traded out hats and slipped the leather over your hoodie. The ballcap was well worn and a sentimental part of you wanted to keep it, seeing as it had been a gift from someone so kind, but you couldn’t.

You wrote out a small note on the back of a piece of a flyer you had torn off a nearby billboard and slipped it into the inner brim, as Djarin got his dragon ready for the flight ahead, and left the navy blue ‘Standard Oil’ hat on the backpack of the dark-haired man who was talking on the phone around the corner. It was a stroke of luck you had spotted the man leave his bag to walk around the building, likely not wanting you or Djarin to hear him, and then you were hurrying to the helmet-wearing man before he could get annoyed at you taking so long.

Djarin helped you up first and then climbed up behind you, his body was warm and you held on where he advised.

“Razor Crest is fast, hold on tight okay?”

“Got it.”

“Alright, good.”

He wasn’t kidding when he said she was fast, the take off kicking up so much wind and dust, and Djarin’s arms bracketed your body as he helped you learn how to move with Razor Crest. Your borrowed gloves kept your hands warm and Grogu shifted against your body, content and happy and most importantly safe. You didn’t know what he knew, what he’d been told, but you did know that you would never ever regret what you’d done.

Djarin shifted behind you and thanks to the small radio device in the helmets you could hear him clearly.

“If you need to rest just let me know, I can secure you to me so that you can sleep, we’ll be flying for a while.”

“I will, thank you Djarin.” He grunted and you let yourself take in the sight of the clouds around you as Razor Crest cut through the air. It was still chilly, it was kind of terrifying, but one thing you would never forget was the warmth of Djarin at your back and Razor Crest under you and Grogu against your belly as you were whisked toward safety.

All Fics Taglist: @haylzcyon @wordsnwhiskey @pagannightwitch @radiowallet @tauralmie @amneris21 @trickstersp8 @practicalghost @rominaszh @alwaysdjarin @alexxavicry @all-the-way-down-here

Just Pedro Taglist: @maievdenoir @beecastle @littlemisspascal @writeforfandoms @aynsleywalker @lovesbiggerthanpride @mswarriorbabe80 @emiemiemiii

Alt Taglist: @imtryingmybeskar @fan-of-encouragement @grogusmum @sizzlingcloudmentality @deadhumourist @prostitute-robot-from-the-future

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x fem!reader #dragon rancher series #fanwork of a fanwork #chaoticwrites

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