#but I’m onto something god bless the world and god bless these United States of - *i am shot by lee harvey oswald*

[oldfritz]

I think the thing I miss most about america is central ac. I think the thing europe needs most is central ac

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

❥𝓟𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓐𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓮𝓭𝓪

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑃𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑢𝑠! 𝐶ℎ𝑜𝑖 𝐽𝑜𝑛𝑔ℎ𝑜× 𝐴𝑛𝑑𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑎! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 (𝐹𝑒𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑒)

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝐴𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡, 𝐹𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝐹𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦/𝐺𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑘 𝑀𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑦 𝐴𝑈

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝐶𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 7.8𝐾

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: 𝑀𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑖𝑜𝑛, 𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ, 𝑤𝑟𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑓 𝑔𝑜𝑑𝑠, 𝑖𝑛𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑒, 𝑠𝑒𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑠𝑦/𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠

“𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒, 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡.

𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝐼 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒, 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑘𝑦…..

𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒.”- 𝑈𝑛𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑛

༺═──────────────═༻

The young woman lifted her head up slowly, her eyes still not opening. Instead, they scrunched up as the sun's rays pierced through the slight opening of the silk turquoise drapes that covered the large glass window of her balcony. She felt a slight tingling sensation of pins in needles run down her back as she straightened up and stretched out her back, which was very sore from sleeping on her chair and desk, bent over the book she had gotten lost into the night before.

Humming softly, she scooted her chair back and got up, cramping up slightly. She picked up her treasured book and put it back on the shelf, laying it to rest along with its fellow literary companions that never failed to bring her joy as she poured over their contents time and time again, never getting bored of what her mother would often call 'silly and unrealistic romance fables'. Her mother was on the more practical side of things, when she wasn't on the other side of her mirror that is. It was no secret her mother was the most vain and self loving woman the kingdom, constantly boasting about her looks, her arrogance and pride could be heard from miles away.

The young princess hurried to dress herself, a task she had preferred doing with no help from her hand maidens since 2 years ago, knowing they'd only fashion her in the flashy and extravagant style her mother preferred, which was not at all to her liking. She was more comfortable in simple tunics with no ornaments at all, but today her mother specifically requested her to put on her best dress as it was to be a special day for her. So there she was, dressing herself in a luxurious forest green robe with golden flowers threaded onto the sleeves and hem of the dress. The scratchy material irritated her skin, but still she had to admit she looked very pretty. Fastening her hair with a gold colored brooch that was shaped like a leaf, she walked out into the long corridor, the passing servants greeting her as she made her way to the throne room where her father was probably already waiting.

"Morning father."

She came up and kissed his head, giving him a warm and fond smile.

"How are you my little star?" He greeted her with the nickname he's called her since she was a child.

"Ready to help you out in the inventories and with sorting through the official documents and drafts."

Over time, she'd grown to help take over some of the duties her father attended to since there was never a male heir.

Her father waved a hand dismissively.

"Not today I'm afraid. Today.....there's is something else that must be taken care of."

Before she could even ask what that was, the glorious queen herself bursted through the doors.

"Andromeda my darling daughter!"

Her mother smothered her in a crushing embrace that was more painful than endearing. The poor girl was being suffocated by her mother's strength and her overwhelming lavender scent she always sprayed on.

"Mmom- mom, remember we aren't supposed to call me by that name until I was married."

That was how it was in their kingdom: babies were given 2 names, 1 which they were called as they grew up by everyone around them and 1 which they'd be referred to after they got married. Which is why it shocked Y/N that her mother was calling her that now.

"Which will actually happen very soon my dear."

Y/N turned to look at her father, her face asking for an explanation. His smile was meant to be reassuring, but instead it felt forced and almost as if he was feeling pity for her.

"We......have picked out the best match for you."

Y/N knew this day would come sooner or later. As the princess of the kingdom, she'd be married off to the best suitor to come forward and ask for her hand. She was not scared of this prospect ahead of her, in fact, she had often daydreamed of meeting her future husband and falling in love with him like she often read about in her stories. She was often imagining a young and handsome lad coming to ask for her, with strong arms and athletic build. She wanted someone like the hero Heracles, who was known for his superior strength and good looks.

"And he's already here! So straighten up Andromeda, chin up, make yourself look more alive for goodness sakes."

Her mother began her usual fussing again, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles on her daughter's dress and pulling out strands of her hair to compliment her features even more. She went as far as pinching Y/N's cheeks.

"Ow! What was that for?" Y/N cupped her cheeks, not wanting them to be abused by her mother's bony fingers and long nails.

"To give them a little pink tint." Her mother looked at her as if she was stupid.

"My dear Cassiopeia, I think the child has had enough. She looks beautiful all right?"

The queen pouted her bottom lip.

"But I'm still the most beautiful one right?"

There it was, her mother couldn't even resist having someone tell her how pretty she was or compliment her appearance. Her husband rolled his eyes.

"You're the most beautiful in all of Joppa." He replied, simply just to get her off his case and go back to what was really important here.

The royal family got in their respective places, awaiting the arrival of Y/N's future husband. She tugged on the fabric of her dress, nervous yet excited at meeting who her parents had deemed suitable for her.

The doors opened and Y/N held her breath as a royal announcer came in, hand over his chest as he proclaimed:

"Announcing his royal Majesty, Phineas, King of Cyprus."

Y/N's heart sank when she heard who was just announced.

'No no no....please mighty gods in the heavens..."

She wanted the earth to swallow her as she looked at the man in front of her, not a stranger, but an all too familiar and not welcomed face to her. Out of all the people in the land......

Why did her parents have to choose him? A king who was 20 years her senior, had already been married once and was not only particularly displeasing in figure, but more so in personality?

"My dear friend! So nice to see you again!"

The regal queen greeted the neighboring monarch warmly, delighted at the thought of having him there with them.

"My dear queen Cassiopeia. You haven't changed at all. Still the most beautiful creature that has ever walked on this earth." He complimented her as he kissed her hand.

Her husband just sat there, so used to the flattery bestowed upon his wife by the old fool. Y/N on the other hand wanted to run away from there, crawl into her bed and cry her eyes out. Her mother was having none of that though.

"Andromeda. Come here and say hello to your future husband."

She looked at her father, eyes begging him to intervene, but his eyes just looked at her sadly and at that moment she knew she had no choice. Her future had been decided and there was no going back. Taking a deep breath, she took slow and heavy steps until she stood in front of Phineas. Bowing her head, she greeted him with a very hushed voice, which the king mistakenly misinterpreted as timidness.

"My lovely bride do not be so shy. We shall soon be happily married and I promise to make you the happiest woman alive. And I know you shall make me a very happy man and bear me lots of heirs."

Y/N nearly gagged at the thought.

"Heirs?" Her vision was beginning to get blurry.

When the man in front of her took her hand in his own, she nearly yanked it back.

"Yes. Many children with the God's blessings." He chuckled, but she did not find any of it amusing.

She felt so repulsed and sick she didn't realize what was happening until she heard people calling out her name and her body hit the floor underneath her, vision going completely black as she fainted due to the shock.

༺═──────────────═༻

She awoke hours later, one of her handmaidens, Sophiya, was stirring a cup in her hand.

"Miss, you're awake."

Y/N sat up, her head still spinning somewhat.

"What on earth happened?" She rubbed her temples, trying to recollect her memories.

Sophiya held out the cup and saucer out to her.

"It seems you fainted."

Right. She remembered now. She was betrothed to an old geezer and couldn't handle it so she passed out in front of everybody. She sighed as she stirred the chamomile tea inside her cup, the smell of it already helping clear her head.

"Why him? Why out of all the people in the world, I have to be married to him?" She wondered out loud before sipping some of her tea carefully.

She wasn't afraid of speaking her mind with Sophiya around. Not only was she a loyal and discreet maid, she was the closest friend she had in the palace, the one often listening to her and offering advice at times.

"Well from a political perspective, it's a very desirable match. Your father's northern territories share a border with Phineas' kingdom. Uniting two states by marriage would be beneficial both politically and commercially." Sophiya stated.

Y/N set her cup on her dresser rather harshly.

"It's not fair though. I don't want someone old enough to be my father as a husband, let alone someone who treats women like they're just objects instead of people."

"No? Then what do you want Y/N?"

Sophiya had a mischievous grin on her face, knowing fully well what her friend's answer would be. Grabbing a pillow, Y/N chucked it at her, causing her to double over in laughter.

"Shut up! Don't start."

Y/N got up and went to her vanity and began arranging her hair which was now poking out from several places. She cringed a little and was about to reach for her comb but Sophiya beat her to it.

"It's been a while since I've done this." Sophiya hummed a little tune like she always did whenever she combed through Y/N's hair.

"I can do it myself you know." Y/N reminded her.

Sophiya snorted. "Yeah and that's why your hair always looks messy and unkempt."

Y/N widened her eyes.

"Does it?"

But her friend's inability to contain her laugh made her realize she was only messing around with her again. At least it took her mind off the current situation that displeased her.......

Until her mother came barging into her room.

"Ahhh Y/N. You're awake at last."

She gestured for Sophiya to move aside so she could take over. Y/N already dreaded having her mother comb her hair, she was always so rough and pulled her hair so tightly she'd end up with a pounding headache before the day was over. Her mother held a strand of her daughter's hair and grimaced slightly.

"Your hair is becoming rather dry." She pointed out.

"Really? I didn't notice." Y/N responded.

Her mother let out an exasperated sigh.

"Y/N don't you know you must take care of every part of your body in order to remain looking beautiful and young?"

Her mother took a glance at the mirror in front of them.

"Just look at me darling. How many women my age do you know to have such luscious, thick, long and healthy hair?"

She then turned her attention to the girl standing next to them.

"Don't you think so Sophiya?"

Knowing fully well how to put honey in the queen's ear, Sophiya admired her.

"Not a single strand of grey hair your Highness."

Her response made the queen extremely happy. Y/N and Sophiya both looked at each other and tried not to laugh right then and there.

"See honey? This is why I'm always advising you on proper beauty care."

She made Y/N turn and stare at her reflection once more.

"I'm so proud to have had such a beautiful daughter like you. And you'll become even more beautiful I just know it."

Y/N at this point just decided to tune out her mothers words, not wanting to listen once more to another vain speech.

"You're the prettiest girl in all of Joppa. No one compares to you."

'As if I've never heard that one before.' Y/N thought.

"If even dare say you're the most beautiful princess in the entire world."

Now Y/N began to feel uneasy, feeling her mother was escalating things too far.

With a proud and arrogant smirk, her mother then finally boasted:

"You're more beautiful than all the daughters of Poseidon. The Nereids can't even come close to owning half of your beauty."

Both Y/N and Sophiya began to panic at her words. If there was one thing the gods hated more than anything it would a mortal's pride. And the panic soon turned into terror when the earth shook, all of the glass dials on Y/N's dresser fell to the floor, all their contents spilling. Some of the painting either tilted or crashed onto ground. The all tried to run out the door, but they all toppled over, Y/N and Sophiya holding onto each other, praying for the earth to stop shaking while the queen was screaming hysterically while trying to crawl to the door.

Suddenly everything stopped and an eerie hush fell upon them. Sophiya inspected Y/N, inquiring about her well being.

"I'm fine....but what was that?" She wondered.

"Is it finally over?" Her mother asked, hands covered protectively over her head.

Loud rumbling outside made them shudder, the sunlight that was shining moments ago now was darkened as clouds covered the sky. Thunder got louder and rain started to heavily pour down, even though the rainy season had ceased 3 months ago. That could only mean one thing.

"Somebody has angered the gods."

༺═──────────────═༻

Y/N tried to keep the smile on her face as her future husband kept going on about his kingdom, its financial contribution in the trade market and, her absolute favorite, all the duties and responsibilities that the queen would have to take up. From knowing how to run dozens of servants, to organizing banquets and festivities, to being a role model for all the women in the empire.

"She must exhibit perfect conduct at all times, must display modesty, integrity, loyalty to her husband and kingdom..."

Y/N could only pretend to listen to his words. Every word uttered felt like someone was pushing a threading needle in her skin.

"Y/N? Are you listening to me?"

Phineas question brought her back to reality.

"Huh? Oh yes! Of course I was."

She hoped he wouldn't notice that she was nervous, but he ended up attributing to her being overwhelmed by the responsibilities she'd have.

"I can understand that for a young girl such as yourself, who has been frivolous for most of her life, being thrusted into such a position which requires great responsibility must be daunting and bewildering. But fear not my lovely bride, I promise you I shall never reproach you for any mistakes you make."

It took every fiber in her being to keep from rolling her eyes at that statement. If anything, she was everything but frivolous, she already knew so much from observing and studying under her father's guidance. For goodness sakes, she already mastered the art of war strategies and this man actually thought her incapable of ruling a country? She wanted to laugh at that.

"And you must not despair. I have a housekeeper already prepared back home who will instruct you in all the arrangements and etiquette of the palace. Wonderful lady who has served me for a great many years. Completely dedicated and exemplary in her work."

Y/N could already picture a strict and dogmatic old woman, whom she no doubt would end up hating if King Phineas admired her so. But that was the least of her worries at the moment. She spotted out of the corner of her eye two servants whispering something to her father, who looked agitated and full of concern. Y/N could guess that they were reporting another dreadful catastrophe that besieged their kingdom. Ever since that day with the earthquake and thunderstorm, more phenomenons started to happen throughout the land. A second earthquake buried and destroyed dozens of homes, the west province was affected by a flash flood that wiped out most of the crops, and a tremendous tidal wave swept away some of the coastal villages in the south province. Thousands of innocent people were affected greatly and it pained Y/N to see it happen, and she had an idea she knew why this was all happening. Not caring if she was rude, she excused herself and left King Phineas' side to approach her father.

"What news did they bring?" She made sure to keep her voice low so as to not alarm anyone.

Her father inhaled deeply.

"Lighting storm struck the east coast now. Hundreds of homes were burned."

Y/N of course expected bad news. Nothing good ever came from the messengers.

"I just don't understand Y/N. Why us? What have we done to offend the gods? We sacrifice to all of them, we are faithful and pious people, so why are they punishing us?"

She truly didn't have the answer. All she could do was rest her head on her father's shoulder and embrace him.

"I don't know. We can only hope things don't get worse."

At that moment, one of the young men who went out daily to the docks to haul in fish for the palace came rushing in, drenched in water, barefoot and face filled with horror.

"A sea monster! A sea monster has been sent to us!"

All of the people in the room fixed their eyes on him, some gasping or covering their mouths, while others thought he was crazy. Y/N and her father approached the lad.

"What do you mean?" Her father demanded.

The boy trembled in fear as he began recounting his experience:

"My lord! We were out at sea, reeling in our catch for the day when we heard a strange bellowing noise from underneath the boat. It was then silent for a while when suddenly, a large sea creature emerged and split our boat in half. It was frightening! It had razor sharp teeth, a serpent's tongue, bloodshot eyes and it was simply enormous! I watched as it devoured some of my fellow comrades-"

The lad fell to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably as images of the traumatic scene flashed once more across his mind. The king bent down and placed a gentle hand on the boy's back, his head in deep thought as if trying to recollect any wrong doings anyone might have done. He then signaled for someone to take the boy away and give him fresh clothes and food to eat.

Y/N closed her eyes and sighed. It was getting worse and worse every day, and it seemed it wouldn't be stopped. She flinched when she saw her father draw out his sword and knocked down one of the vases that adorned the hall.

"Speak oh mighty gods! What have we done to anger you? Why are you punishing us!?"

No one spoke up, fear was in all of their eyes and no one could blame them.

"I......I'm the guilty one."

All heads turned to the source of the voice and stared in shock as the queen herself stepped up, her visage looking thinner than normal and with dark circles under her eyes, signaling lack of sleep.

"I have offended Poseidon by boasting that Andromeda was more beautiful than his sea nymphs...."

Everyone let out gasps and screeches of horror at her confession. Her father looked absolutely furious and was trying hard to contain himself from losing his temper. Accepting all responsibility, the queen continued:

"If I must pay the price with my own life then so be it."

Her father shook his head.

"The price is for Poseidon to decide. Send in the Oracle. We must find out how to appease the god of the sea."

༺═──────────────═༻

"Why must he be so angry at us over one person's mistake?"

Y/N and her father stared blankly at the horizon. It seemed both of them had been spending more and more time in the royal orchard ever since more and more disastrous news reached their ears. Y/N sat on a stone bench while her father leaned back on one of the several olive trees that surrounded the place. So far he had kept quiet and just listened to her pour her heart out.

"I always asked myself that when I was a little boy and I listened to the stories my father told me. Why the gods always punished mortals who claimed to be better than them."

Y/N observed her father who stood there with a pensive gaze.

"I think......I understand...... the gods want us to respect the natural order every creature has in this universe."

Pulling out a leave from one of the branches, he continued:

"Insects have their place in this world. Animals have theirs. We mortals have our place above these creatures and that's why we dominate them....

And the gods have their place, above us mortals. We are so far below them that none of us should aspire to be greater than the place that was designated for us. Or it could mean our downfall."

Releasing the leave, he let it slowly fall down, sinking into the water of the small pond in front of them. Y/N stared at the leaf, understanding the point her father was trying to get across, but still it bothered her.

"But still. In all of the stories, the guilty one was punished, not innocent people. So why are they paying the price now?"

Her father stiffened at her question, unsure of how to answer.

"The ways of the gods are difficult for us to understand."

Y/N got up from her seat and staged at the fields in front of her. She frowned, unable to accept that answer.

"It's not their fault...."

Her father sighed as he rubbed his temples.

"Y/N please.......I can't comprehend this as much as you can. We'll just have to wait and see what the Oracle says. Hopefully there's still a way to make things right."

They both went back inside the palace, the Oracle had to be done communicating with the other world and must have an answer by then. The ministers were already gathered at the conference hall, awaiting instructions. Y/N and her father took their place in the middle of the crowd, waiting for the elder man to come in. Everyone hushed as soon as he came in. He walked even slower than usual, holding his walking staff with 2 hands, his eyebrows were furrowed as if he was in deep thought and troubled by what he had to reveal. No one dared ask him what was going to happen, afraid of what he'd say.

"Tell us. What does mighty Poseidon ask from us?" Her father inquired.

The old man lifted his head to the sky and closed his eyes before saying:

"This is what the god of the sea has spoken: 'You have summoned my wrath by offending me and my sea nymphs with your pride and vanity. I have a mind to exterminate the entire land to pay for your sins.......

But as an act of mercy, I will stop all the disasters if you offer me a sacrifice. In 2 days time, you must chain the selected person to a rock at the sea's edge for my sea monster, Cetus, to devour and atone for your foolishness. If you don't follow my instructions, I will continue to lay rampage throughout your kingdom until you have all perished."

The nobles all began to murmur amongst themselves, some already agreeing to the demands for the sake of the people.

"We are all ready to do as our lord, Poseidon, asks of us. Tell us Mylos, who are we to offer to him?"

Y/N's mother was already stepping up, all of them expecting her of course to be the one to die, but the old Oracle shook his head as he revealed a shocking fact.

"Poseidon has asked for your daughter, Y/N."

At the mention of her name, Y/N paled and nearly fell over had her father not being next to her to prevent her from falling. Many were shocked and horrified at the choice, some of the ladies already wailing at the thought of losing their beloved princess. Y/N felt Sophiya run up to her and hold her tightly, tears already spilling out her eyes. But the one who was most distressed by it was none other than her mother.

"No! He can't take Y/N! He can't take my only daughter! I won't let him! Please! Let me die in her place instead!"

The queen got on her knees, begging for her daughter's life to be saved as all the people in the room were now divided by how to proceed with this.

"Cepheus you cannot allow this! She's your child!" She was now clutching her husband's robe, desperately trying to persuade him not to allow this insanity to happen.

"Poseidon has spoken! His words must be fulfilled! If he wants the princess, we must give her to him!" One of the nobles protested.

Her father became enraged.

"Has he no pity?! She's my only child! I can't let him have her!"

"You are a king before a father and a king's duty is to his people. Please! We don't want anymore bloodshed to happen!" Someone else counteracted.

Soon it was an intense debate between all of the gentlemen in the hall. All of them screamed one after the other, not bothering to listen. All throughout it, her father refused to budge.

"Phineas, she's betrothed to you. What have you to say?"

All eyes fell on the other monarch, who had kept quiet until now. Meeting his eyes, Y/N for once looked at him with tenderness, silently pleading him to vouch for her. Instead, and unsurprisingly, he looked down.

"If that's what the God of the sea has declared, it must be done."

Her father shook his head, resisting the urge to draw his sword and kill him right then and there.

"And this from the very man who said he'd die for her hand in marriage? Pitiful."

"No matter that! Poseidon must be obeyed!"

Y/N drowned out the chaos that was happening. She truly was frightened by the situation, appalled that the God would choose her to be the sacrifice. But she had no tears to cry, she simply stood there, blank faced as she pondered over all the events that had happened in the past week, all the houses destroyed, all the innocent lives taken, it wasn't fair.........

And she couldn't allow it to continue.

"I will do it."

But no one heard her because they were too busy fighting. So she stepped in the center and firmly declared:

"I will do it! I will sacrifice myself if that's what Poseidon wants!"

༺═──────────────═༻

The people all looked in awe and admiration as the princess walked up the stone pavement through the streets. Dressed in pure white robes, hair curled into ringlets, she looked like an actual angel sent to save them all. But behind that gaze that showed dignity and bravery, there was fear in each of her bones, her hands shaking every now and then at the thought of what was to come. Her father and mother both stayed behind, not allowed to accompany her any further out of fear that they'd try and stop the priests from chaining her to her destiny. Y/N stared at some of the wildflowers that were shattered along the path, somehow they seemed to calm her down. She kept repeating the same words over and over again in her head:

"I'm a princess. I must die with dignity and grace."

But her courage soon failed her when she reached the steps leading down to the edge of the sea. Her body froze, unwilling to take another step. She was about to ran back the way she came, but the priests grabbed her wrists and began trying to get her down the steps, but Y/N began to struggle. She looked back at her parents, their faces blurry from the tears brimming at her eyes.

"Father! Mother! Save me!"

Her mother hid her face in her hands, unable to watch anymore, while her father was being held back by some of his guards, strictly ordered to keep him from interfering. At this point, Y/N heard a familiar voice scream from among the crowds. Turning she saw none other than Sophiya try to run to her, but she was stopped by a couple of guards.

"You can't do this to her! She's innocent! Y/N you don't have to do this! Let me go!"

It took both of the guards to subdue her and lift her up to take her away and keep her from freeing Y/N, but Sophiya kept fighting and shouting protests to be released and to help her friend. When she saw Phineas, she did not hide her disgust and shame.

"Aren't you supposed to protect her?! Be her champion! Slay the monster for her! Do you not care enough for her?!"

But her words fell upon deaf ears, no one would dare step up for Y/N. The priests dragged her down the narrow staircase. Once they reached the bottom, they held her hands behind her back and pressed her firmly against the cold stone pillar. They tied the rope around several times, making sure it was fastened tightly before saying a small and quick prayer for her and to ask forgiveness to the god. Y/N watched them climb back up the stairs and slowly disappear, along with the rest of the people who went to see her off. No one wanted to watch as Poseidon carried out his punishment and have his sea monster eat a poor, helpless young girl.

Hours passed, the sun was now covered by clouds, adding an even more eerie atmosphere to the place. The tide was rising, the water that before was only at Y/N's feet. Now was well above her knees, the cold water freezing her muscles. Y/N wondered if perhaps the gods would have mercy on her and let her drown instead of having Cetus tear into her flesh and eat her while she was still alive. The more she thought about it, the more she began panicking.

"I don't want to die! Please! Can anybody help me?! Somebody, anybody! Help!!"

Her throat was now sore from screaming on top of her lungs, her face red from all the tears pouring out, her arms aching from being bound behind her, her palms no doubt bleeding and scratched from scraping against the stone behind them. Y/N lowered her head, resigning to her fate and only praying that it would be quick and painless.

Far above her head, soaring through the clouds, at that moment, a shining white horse with wings flew across the sky. Sitting on top of the majestic creature, a handsome and strong young man calmly guided his companion through the vast ocean. The horse suddenly stopped in midair, sensing something.

"Whoah whoah whoah, steady there Pegasus. What's wrong?"

He ran his hand across the horse's mane, scratching the back of his ear in an effort to calm him. He looked towards where the horse was staring at and was confused when he saw a girl chained to a stone. Feeling curious, he whispered in Pegasus ear.

"Do you feel like going on another adventure?"

The winged horse let out a high pitched neigh before changing direction and swooping down to land on top of the stairs of the ledge. Dismounting and signaling for him to stay put, the mysterious man walked down the steps, being careful not to slip due to the water that had splashed onto the pavement. He tilted his head, trying to get a better view of the girl in front of him, trying to see if she was alive or not since she had her head down and didn't seem to be moving. She certainly hadn't drowned yet, even though the water was already below her chest, and it seemed it wouldn't stop yet.

He waved a hand in front of her.

"Hello?"

He heard a low moan come from her lips before she slowly lifted her head up, affirming she was still alive. He was taken aback by how pretty she was, even with her hair semi drenched in the salty seawater. It seemed to add a more captivating look to her. Y/N on the other hand, couldn't understand if she was seeing things or was already dead.

"Is this where I get on the boat that'll take me to the Underworld?"

Her question made the man raise an eyebrow.

"No....... you're not dead and this is Joppa I believe?"

"Oh great. Then that means I'm not dead.....yet." Y/N let out an exasperated sigh.

"Why can't you just get it over with? Stop making me wait, send your sea monster to gobble me up already."

She kept babbling on and on, she completely forgot about the stranger in front of her who was listening intently.

"What on earth are you taking about? Who chained you here anyway?"

Y/N looked in the direction of the stairs.

"The priests. I'm supposed to be sacrificed to Poseidon's sea monster."

The man shook his head.

"Why?"

"Because my mother boasted that I was more beautiful than the Nereids and therefore I have to appease the God of the sea with my death." She explained, not caring how ridiculous she sounded right now.

The man bent down, tugging at the ropes binding her to her fate.

"You still shouldn't be here......then again..."

He looked up at her and smiled softly.

"Perhaps we were fated to meet."

For the first time since all of it happened, Y/N genuinely smiled.

"I'm Jongho by a way." He finally introduced himself.

"I'm Y/N." She replied.

Her smile soon faded when she felt the water rise up even more, startling her and making her attempt to break free once again. Sensing how little time they had before her head was submerged completely underwater, Jongho drew out his sword and stepped down further into the water. He stood in front of Y/N.

"Don't worry. I'll get you out of here before-"

A loud bellowing cry interrupted him. The earth once again began to shake and as they both turned their heads to the right, they watched as a monstrous reptile swam straight toward them, its head coming out from the water.

"Stay here! Don't move!" He ordered her as he ran back up the stairs to divert the monster's attention from Y/N and instead to himself, completely ignoring the fact even if she wanted to, Y/N couldn't move at all.

Jongho stood at the top of the cliff. Raising his sword above his head, he waved it around to get the serpent to look at him, which it did. The beast made it's way towards him, bearing its sharp teeth at him. It lunged at him, but Jongho quickly ducked and shifted to the other side. He tried to pierce his sword into the monster's head but his sword only clashed against an armor of scales surrounding it.

"Oh great." Jongho breathed out when it lunged for him again, this time Jongho barely escaped its clutches.

He whistled for Pegasus to come over, which it promptly did. The horse trotted over to his master, who quickly hopped up and got on top of him before directing him to fly above the monster's neck. If Y/N wasn't so concerned about the water's level rising, she would have been more astonished at seeing an actual winged horse in front of her. Jongho scanned the munsters body, if there's anything he knew in his lifetime of slaying beasts it was that they all had a weak spot, that if found, it would be easy to defeat them.

The monster shifted its body around, causing the waters to splashed violently against Y/N's face. She coughed out the water that had gotten in her mouth and wheezed as she tried to regain her breath. Realizing he was running out of time, Jongho knew he had no other alternative and had to make use of his special weapon. Reaching into the copper colored bag on Pegasus' saddle, he looked over at Y/N and called out:

"Close your eyes! Don't open them under no circumstance!"

Y/N immediately shut her eyes, afraid of seeing what was going to happen. Jongho then took out a frightening and horrifying severed head that had now deceased snakes on its scalp. Making sure the monster was looking right at him, he held the head up so it could see the still glowing green eyes. In that moment, the sea serpent began shrieking out in pain as its body began to crystallize and turn into hard stone. Starting at its tail and going up to his neck, Jongho watched as the monster then fully transformed into a monument of stone, no longer moving and completely void of any life now. He tucked the head back in the pouch before looking back down at Y/N.

"Oh almighty Zeus."

He rushed down there with Pegasus when he saw that her head was now submerged underwater. He didn't even bother waiting for Pegasus to land, he jumped right in the water and swam over to her. Taking out a dagger from his pocket, he cut through several of the rope ties and quickly tugged them off of her. Once he felt them loosen up enough, he took her unconsciously body in his arms and swam back up. He gasped once he reached the surface, grabbing onto Pegasus' bridle. Pegasus then used his strength to pull them back up enough for Jongho to lift Y/N into his arms and climb back up the stairs to high land, safe away from the tide.

"Come on Y/N, don't give up on me."

He tilted her chin up before placing his hands against her chest. He pushed down hard, trying to get the water she swallowed out of her lungs.

"Please gods on Olympus. Help"

He pressed down even harder, but still nothing. Having left no choice, he bent down and parted her lips before blowing air into her mouth. He pulled back and inhaled before repeating the same process. Stepping back, he held onto Y/N's back when she began coughing violently, helping her sit up slighty so she could regain her composure.

"Are you all right?" He scanned to make sure she was ok.

Y/N took deep breaths before answering in a raspy voice.

"I think so..."

She looked up and blushed when she noticed their close proximity. Now having him mere inches from her face, Y/N could clearly see how handsome Jongho was, with dazzling brown eyes that seemed to hypnotize her.

"Thank you....for saving my life..." She whispered.

Jongho carefully swept his hand over her face, brushing off some of her wet hair out of it before leaning in closer to her.

"Oh don't thank me. Like I said, maybe we were fated to meet."

Y/N closed her eyes when she felt his face come closer to hers, his lips hovering above hers, she waited for him to kiss her, but unfortunately they were interrupted by a sharp voice:

"Y/N! You're alive!"

Jongho helped Y/N get up on her feet as her parents, Sophiya, Phineas and several others ran over to see what was happening. Sophiya wrapped her arms around Y/N, her voice hoarse from all the screaming she had done before.

"Thank the gods you're alive!"

Her parents also surrounds her, thankful she wasn't dead. Jongho just stood by the sides, smiling fondly at the touching scene. Not forgetting about him, Y/N went over to him and took his hand before looking over at her parents.

"Mom, dad. This is Jongho. He's the one who saved me."

Jongho smiled sheepishly as he waved his hand dismissively.

"Please, I had a little help."

The crowd looked over at the beast's head poking out from the cliff, immobile and never to move again.

"How on earth could a mere mortal turn a fearsome creature into stone?" Her father asked.

"Oh very easy. You see..."

Jongho whistled for Pegasus, who trotted up next to him. Several people began murmuring amongst themselves, wondering who really was this man who flew in such a majestic creature and could perform such miracles. Jongho pointed to the bag on the saddle.

"I'm afraid I can't show you all directly since even after I slayed the Gorgon, her face can still turn to stone anyone who looks at it."

A collective gasp was emitted from all those present, even Y/N was shocked when she realized who it really was that was standing in front of her.

"You're....you're..." She pointed a trembling finger to Jongho who merely chuckled.

"I see you heard the story about how I killed Medusa, although you probably heard the name given to me by the gods....

I am indeed Perseus."

Y/N covered her mouth as did most of the people present.

"The champion son of Zeus, standing right before our eyes."

At her father's words, everyone bowed down in respect to Jongho. Y/N's father dropped to his knees in front of him and held his hand.

"You have done me a great service by saving my beloved and only daughter. I shall forever be in your debt. Please, if there is anything I can offer you, say it and it shall be yours."

Jongho shot a glance back at Y/N, who kept looking at him in admiration. He winked at her before requesting:

"My dear king, if it pleases you..... I ask only for your daughter hand in marriage."

Y/N swore her heart jumped out of her body when he said those words. She looked to her father, who was ready to say yes until Phineas stepped forward to declare:

"Wait! Andromeda is already betrothed to me! You can't have her!"

But that didn't deter Jongho. He simply turned to look at the man in front of him. Crossing his arms, he sneered.

"If she betrothed to you, where were you when she was in danger? Why didn't you step up to die with her or for her instead of hiding away like a coward?"

Phineus stood there quiet, unable to answer that question, which didn't surprise Jongho.

"Exactly. So if it's all right with you, I ask for her father's blessing to allow me to marry her."

Slinging an arm protectively around her waist, Jongho pulled Y/N against him, refusing to budge even for 1 moment. Phineus reached over and drew his sword.

"Over my dead body."

Jongho raised an eyebrow.

"I'm a son of Zeus, I've slayed Medusa and killed Poseidon's beast, not to mention I'm more than half your age and have much vigor in me. Do you really dare to challenge me? Cause if that's the case."

Jongho covered Y/N's eyes and judging from all the panicked shuffling going on, she guessed he was reaching for Medusa's severed head to use against his rival.

Having to admit defeat, Phineas dropped his sword.

"Keep her. Keep Y/N."

Y/N bounced giddily at the thought of getting to marry Jongho, someone who embodied everything she always wanted in a husband: young, beautiful, strong and brave. And more than that, he was highly favored by the gods themselves.

"You could have been a queen Y/N. You'll regret your decision." Phineus declared before storming out of there.

Taking one look at Jongho, Y/N absolutely knew she wouldn't regret it.

༺═──────────────═༻p>

The couple stood in front of each other, lost in each other's eyes as their hands were joined together. Her parents watched in earnest as the priest spoke out the next words:

"Do you, Jongho, son of almighty Zeus and of Danaë, daughter of Acrisius, king of Argos, take Y/N, Princess of Joppa, daughter of Cepheus and Cassiopeia, king and queen of Aethiopia, as your lawfully wedded wife until death do you part?"

Without any hesitation, Jongho swore:

"I do."

The priest now turned to Y/N and repeated the same question to her, to which she responded:

"I do."

Her mother and Sophiya were already crying for joy at seeing Y/N so happy, while her father tried hard to contain his emotions. The priest proceeded to utter a small prayer before announcing:

"From this day forward, you shall both be known as Perseus and Andromeda. You have both sworn that from this day forward, you will spend the rest of your lives together, in front of all of those in attendance and before the very gods. May the Olympians bless this holy marriage."

Before the priest could even gesture for the torchbearers to light the sacrifice, a lighting bolt suddenly fired from the sky and set it ablaze, causing everyone to erupt in cheers and applause.

"Seems even Zeus approves of the marriage." Y/N's father whispered to his wife.

"And why should he not? They're perfect for each other. I can't be happier for our daughter. Although I'm going to miss her terribly." Her mother wiped her eyes with the handkerchief Sophiya handed to her.

The happy couple walked down the aisle, waving goodbye to their guests as they made their way out of the castle and down to one of the southern bays, where Pegasus was already waiting for them by the dock.

"I thought we were going back to your hometown Tiryns." Y/N pointed out.

"We are." Jongho calmly said.

"Well where's the boat?"

Jongho bursted out laughing at that.

"Sweetheart, Sophiya is the only one taking a boat to meet us there later. We.......are flying on dear Pegasus here."

Before she could protest, Jongho swept her off her feet and helped her mount the horse before saddling up behind her.

"Come on love, don't be scared. I promise nothing will happen to you."

Still sensing her apprehension, Jongho tilted her head to look at him.

"Hey look at me. I saved you from Poseidon's beast. Can't you trust me to safely take you to my home to meet my mother?"

Y/N smiled softly before nodding.

"I trust you entirely......"

She blushed before confessing:

"I love you."

Jongho leaned in and captured her lips in a gentle and loving kiss.

"I love you too my precious star."

Jongho then patted Pegasus ' side.

"Come on buddy. Take us home."

༺═──────────────═༻

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 31

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,450ish (one of the longer ones...)

Summary: Y/N speaks to Coulson. Tony sits in front of the Senate Armed Forces Committee.

Instead of going with Tony and Pepper to appear before the committee, Y/N went to the Triskelion. SHIELD’s Headquarters. She promised Pepper that she would be there before the meeting ended, but needed to make a stop. As she walked into the lobby, she spotted Phil.

“Agent Coulson,” she called, jogging up to him. 

“Agent Rogers,” he greeted, with a small smile. “What are you doing here?”

“I called Fury a few weeks ago about an issue with Stark, and still haven’t heard anything. So I came to see why.”

“Oh, Fury did inform me about that.”

Y/N folded her arms over her chest. “So he has time to inform you and not get back to me?” 

“He has his reasons. The Director always does.” Coulson glanced down at his wrist watch. “I have to get going, or I’ll be late.” He started walking away.

“Where are you going?” Y/N inquired, following him.

“Where you should be. Watching Mr. Stark in front of the Senate committee.”

“Great! You can take me with you then. Plus, I know you know more then what you’re letting on, so I’ll use the car ride there to get it out of you. Are we taking Lola?”

“No, we are not taking Lola. Last time I let you near her, she got scratched up.”

“It was an accident! And it was also, literally, one scratch.”

“Still a scratch,” Coulson said as he held the door open for Y/N.

“All you men are cry babies when it comes to things like that. Tony got on me the other day for breathing near one of the suits. I’m so over it.”

  “I thought you two were getting along?”

“We were, until I started questioning him about what was wrong.” Phil stopped at a black SUV, getting into the driver seat while Y/N got into the passenger. “Tony knows I know that there’s something wrong, he just doesn’t want to admit it. So he’s pushing me away,” Y/N sighed, putting her seat belt on.

Coulson began driving off, silently. Y/n could tell though, by the way he was holding onto the steering wheel, that something was bothering him. Or at least on his mind.

“Just say it,” Y/N demanded. “You have something on your mind. So just let it out.”

“You have feelings for him,” Phil immediately said.

Y/N’s head snapped to fully look at Phil, who wouldn’t look away from the road. “What?”

“You have feelings for Tony Stark. I knew it the moment I saw you hovering over him after the incident at Stark Industries.”

“I don’t have feel—“

“Don’t lie to me, Y/N. You know you’ve never been able to.”

“Phil, I—“

“When Fury told me about you requesting to stay with Stark, it was just a confirmation of what I knew. What I had seen. I told Fury that you should be pulled and to put in someone else, but he said that it would be good for you. I…” Coulson sighed, shaking his head. “I think you need to quit this, Y/N.”

“Are you serious? What have I done to prove that anything, let alone emotions, have interfered with my job?! Gosh! I… I can’t even believe you.”

“You haven’t done anything yet. But there might come a time when you have to choose between him and the mission. Or, what happens when you need to be honest with him? You’re a Rogers, Y/N, not a Barnes. You were born in 1918. You fell from a plane trying to save the world and woke up in a new age. Stark’s going to need to know all of this, or he’ll find out. One way or another.”

“He knows bits and pieces,” Y/N whispered after a few seconds of silence. “Tony knows I have a twin. That him and his best friend died. He knows that I was in love with my brother’s best friend. And he knows that I burned my hand on a power source and fell from a plane…. I’ve kept all the details from him hidden though…”

“Do you know if he even feels the same? Do you?” It was silent for what felt like eternity until Coulson spoke up again. “Admit it, Y/N/N. At least to yourself if not to me.” Coulson parked the car, having arrived that the location of the meeting. “I know you probably don’t want to admit it. But do you have feelings for him because of who the man actually is? Or just he remind you of someone else you used to love?” Coulson stepped out of the car. “He’s not Bucky, Y/N. In more ways than one.” Then he shut the car door and walked off.

Y/N sat there frozen in the passenger seat. Was it really that obvious that she had feelings for Tony? And, is Tony really that much like Bucky? Yes, they both know—knew how to charm the ladies. But other than that… She shook her head and jumped out of the car. She couldn’t let this stop her from doing her mission. Y/N paused right in front of the building. What was her mission anymore? Just making sure that Tony Stark didn’t try to ruin the world with his Iron Man suits? Had she really become just a babysitter?

Inside the building, the meeting had started, though it hadn’t gotten very far. Tony kept looking back to see if Y/N had gotten there yet. He felt bad driving off, leaving her on the curb. But she had been asking too many questions, she was going to find out what he was hiding. Tony Stark was dying. The core in his arc reactor, that was keeping him alive, was also killing him. So not only did he believe that he had to push her away so that she wouldn’t find out, he believed that it would be easier on him. Tony would never be able to admit it aloud, but he had developed feelings for her. And he couldn’t stand the thought of giving her hope and then dying on her. (Though unbeknownst to him, JARVIS already spilled the beans.)

Looking back once again, he couldn’t see any sign of her. Tony looked disappointed as Pepper, from a few rows back, tried to get him to turn back around.

“Mr. Stark,” Senator Stern called. He was over the committee that wanted the Iron Man suit in the governments hands. “Could we pick up now where we left off?” 

Tony ignored him. Y/N quickly entered the room and found a seat next to Pepper. He tried to give her a small smile, but she refused to look at him. 

“Mr. Stark, please,” the Senator requested, again.

“Yes, dear?” Tony said, turning to face the committee.

“Can I have your attention?” The Senator asked.

“Absolutely.”

“Do you or do you not possess a specialized weapon?”

“I do not.”

“You do not?”

“I do not. Well, it depends on how you define the word weapon.”

“The Iron Man weapon.”

“My device does not fit that description.”

“Well… how would you describe it?”

“I would describe it by defining it as what it is, Senator.”

“As?”

“It’s a high-tech prosthesis. That is… that is… That’s actually the most apt description I can make of it.”

“It’s a weapon. It’s a weapon, Mr. Stark.”

“Please, if your priority was actually the well-being of the American citizen—“

“My priority is to get the Iron Man weapon turned over to the people of the United States of America.”

“Remind me again why we could ask the lawyers to do this?” Y/N leaned over and whispered to Pepper.

“He said he could handle himself,” Pepper sighed. She looked around the room. “I see Agent Coulson. You remember, from SHIELD?”

“Yes,” Y/N nodded.

“I’m going to see if he has any ideas about how to handle this.” She picked up her bag and headed to the back of the room, where Coulson was standing and watching. Y/N kept her focus on the proceedings.

“—depending on what state you’re in. You can’t have it,” Tony stated.

“Look, I’m no expert—“

“In prostitution? Of course not. You’re a Senator, come on.” Tony turned around as the crowd laughed. He met Y/N’s unapproving  stare. “No?” He mouthed. She just shook her head.

“I’m no expert in weapons,” Stern continued, causing Tony to turn back around. “We have somebody here who is an expert on weapons. I’d now like to call Justin Hammer, our current primary weapons contractor.”

Every turned to see Justin Hammer come in from the side and take a seat at the tables in front.

“Let the record reflect that I observed Mr. Hammer entering the chamber,” Tony began, “and I am wondering if and when any actual expert will also be in attendance.” 

“Absolutely. I’m no expert. I defer to you, Anthony,” Justin started. “You’re the wonder boy. Senator, if I may.” Justin stood up and moved infant of the tables. “I may well not be an expert, but you know who was the expert? Your dad.”

“Howard Stark. Really a father to us all, and to the military-industrial age. Let’s just be clear, he was no flower child. He was a lion. We all know why we’re here. In the last six months, Anthony Stark has created a sword with untold possibilities. And yet, he insists it’s a shield. He asks us to trust him as we cower behind it. I wish I were comforted, Anthony, I really do. I’d love to leave my door unlocked when I leave the house, but this ain’t Canada. You know, we live in a world of grave threats, threats that Mr Stark will not always be able to foresee. Thank you. God bless Iron Man. God bless America.”

“That was well said Mr. Hammer,” Stern complimented. “The committee would now like to invite Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes to the chamber.”

“Rhodey? What?” Tony questioned, looking around. “Did you know?” He mouthed to Y/N, who nodded her head in response. Tony stood up and met Rhodey half way down the aisle. “Hey, buddy,” he greeted. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Look, it’s me, I’m here,” Rhodey responded as the made their way to the front. “Deal with it. Let’s move on.”

“I just—“

“Drop it.”

“All right, I’ll drop it.” The two sat down.

“I have before me a complete report on the Iron Man weapon,” Stern began, “complied by Colonel Rhodes. And, Colonel, for the record, can you please read page 57, paragraph four?”

“You’re requesting that I read specific sections from my report, Senator?” Rhodey questioned.

“Yes, sir.”

“It was my understanding that I was going to be testifying in a much more comprehensive and detailed manner.”

“I understand. A lot of things have changed today. So if you could just read—“

“You do understand that reading a single paragraph out of context does not reflect the summary of my final—“

“Just read it, Colonel. I do. Thank you.”

“Very well. ‘As he does not operate within any definable branch of government, Iron Man presents a potential threat to the security of both the nation and to her interests.’ I did however, go on to summarize that the benefits of Iron Man far outweigh three liabilities and that it would be in our interest—“

“That’s enough Colonel.”

“—to fold Mr. Stark—“

“That’s enough.”

“—into the existing chain of command, Senator.”

“I’m not a joiner, but I’ll consider Secretary of Defense,” Tony added, “if you ask nice.” Various crowd members laughed as Y/N rolled her eyes. “We can amend the hours a little bit.”

“I’d like to go on and show, if I may, the imagery that’s connected to your report,” Stern requested.

“I believe it is somewhat premature to reveal these images to the general public at this time,” Rhodey stated.

“With all due respect, Colonel, I understand. And If you could just narrate those for us, we’d be very grateful. Let’s have the images.” A man moved near the tv, pulling up images of groups of people trying to recreate the Iron Man suit. 

“Intelligence suggests that the devices seen in these photos are, in fact, attempts at making manned copies of Mr. Stark’s suit,” Rhodey narrated. “This has been corroborated by our allies and local intelligence on the ground, indicating that these suits are quite possibly, at this moment, operational.”

“Hold on a second, buddy,” Tony called, doing something with his Stark device. Suddenly the screens changed, being controlled by Tony. “Boy, I’m good. I commandeered your screens. I need them. Time for a little transparency.”

“What is he doing?” Senator Stern questioned.

“If you will direct you attention to said screens, I believe that’s North Korea.”

“Can you turn that off? Take it off.”

“Iran.”

“No grave threat here. Is that Justin Hammer? How did Hammer get in the game? Justin, you’re on TV. Focus up.”

“Okay, give me a left twist,” Justin’s voice came through the speakers. “Left’s good. Turn to the right. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.” Justin, in the video, lost control. But before anything else could be shown, Justin found the TV plug and unplugged it.

“Wow. yeah, I’d say most countries, five, ten years away,” Tony stated. “Hammer Industries, twenty.”

“I’d like to point out that that test pilot survived,” Justin interrupted, trying to save himself.

“I think we’re done, is the point that he’s making,” Stern said. “I don’t think there’s any reason—“

“The point is, you’re welcome, I guess,” Tony said.

“For what?”

“Because I’m your nuclear deterrent. It’s working. We’re safe. America is secure.” Tony slipped on his sunglasses. “You want my property? You can’t have it. But I did you a big favor.” He stood up and turned to face the crowd. “I’ve successfully privatized world peace.” He held his arms out, making peace signs with both of his hands. 

The crowd all stood up, talking at once. Y/N followed, not surprised that Tony made this all about himself. He began making his way down the aisle, shaking hands as he went. “What more do you want? For now! I tried to play ball with these ass-clowns.”

Rhodey looked back at Y/N. The both of them shared a look that they were done with Tony not taking things seriously.

next chapter >

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[thelordofdarkreunion]

Magnificent Scoundrels: A Duelist’s Dance

This is the third Magnificent Scoundrels story.  If you don’t see any of the characters you like, well, don’t worry, we’ll be getting to them in good time.  Also, if you want more action, don’t worry, because we’ll be getting to that too.  As always, I own none of these characters except the Drake and his crew.  I hope you enjoy!

Vir met with the two commanders of the regiment, Colonel Kasteen and Major Broklaw, before he was to inspect the soldiers of the regiment.  They nodded affably, the pale faces of ice worlders peering from under their dress caps, and saluted.  

“A pleasure to meet you, sir.  I read Drake’s report, and I’m happy to serve with someone who has advanced the cause of the human race.”  These guys really don’t stop with humanity vs. the aliens, do they?

“I heard from Commissar Cain that all the aliens in your universe want to kill you.  That’s, well, not the case here.  All the aliens on this ship are perfectly amicable, and won’t try to hurt you.”  Broklaw frowned.

“Well, you know what they say, beware the treachery of the xenos.”  

“Well, I trust them,” said Adam heatedly.

“You never know with xenos.  Anyway, Commissar- or should I call you Admiral?”

“Either is fine.”

“Tell me about yourself.  Where were you born?” asked Kasteen as they walked through the hallways. 

“The United States of America.”  The two other officers frowned.  

“An odd name for a planet.”

“You misunderstand.  That’s the country.  I was born on Earth, just like most humans from my galaxy.”  Both officers stopped and stared in shock.

“You were born upon Holy Terra itself?” asked Kasteen in an incredulous whisper.

“If that’s your name for the birthplace of humanity, then, yes,”  shrugged Adam.  What was the big deal with being born on Earth?  All humans came from there.  

“Truly, it is a blessing to meet a native Terran.  To see the cradle of humanity, yet alone to be born in it!” exclaimed Kasteen.

“Is that a rarity where you come from?”  Broklaw chuckled.

“With an empire spanning over a million worlds, yes.”  It was Adam’s turn to look incredulous.  

“A million worlds?  How could you possibly govern it?” Kasteen shrugged.

“Every planet in the Imperium is governed its own way.  So as long as they accept the word of the God-Emperor, pay the tithe, and respect the various branches of the Imperium, then they’re free to do as they wish.”  Well, that was interesting.

“Where are you two from?”  

“Valhalla, located in the northeast of the galaxy.  It’s an ice world, and we live in underground hive cities.  You either join the Guard or work in the caverns, cultivating the foodstuffs that sustain the populace.”

“That seems...” Adam searched for the right words, “harsh.”  Broklaw shrugged.

“Eh, could be worse.  You could be born on Catachan.”

“Or Krieg,” interjected Kasteen.  They both grinned at that.  But before Vir could ask what Krieg was, they arrived.  

He stepped through the door leading to the mess hall, one of the two only two rooms in the ship big enough to assemble a large body of people.  Every single member of the Valhallan 597th stood at parade attention.  Despite it being a relatively large room, the soldiers almost completely filled it, with little room to spare.  He didn’t really like doing it, but Adam was an admiral, and so that meant he had plenty of practice making speeches.  

“Men, and women of the Valhallan 597th, I am Adam Vir.  Due to the tensions between yourselves and the crew of the Omen, Commissar Cain and I are switching places to show both you and the crew that you can trust each other.  It is our duty to maintain order, and so order will be maintained.  That’s all for now.  Dismissed.”  Not one of his best speeches, but, again, not one of his worst.  Quick and simple.  It would work.  Now, for the tough part.  He found that people generally got along better if they knew and were comfortable with one another, and so he would be staying with the Valhallans and supervising them at all times.  Hopefully, they could work something out and tensions would de-escalate.  Kasteen approached him.

“Admiral Vir, I have decided to delegate tasks to the troopers to keep them out of trouble, and out of the way of the rest of the crew.  I thought it would be best if we gave both them and your crew some time to cool down, then gradually re-introduced them to each other,” she said.

“Good idea,” replied Vir.  He turned on his heel and walked towards the exit, when he had a sudden, horrid thought.  The Celzex.  The Celzex were a highly militaristic and easily insulted race, several of which were aboard the ship.  The problem with the Celzex, however, was that they were six-inch tall adorable balls of fur, practically the least intimidating thing any human had come across.  They, however, did not realize this, and all the other races of the galaxy let themselves be fake-cowed as the Celzex had the most powerful warships out of any race that sailed the void, and, honestly, they were too hilarious to take seriously.  Adam had hidden them away, out of the reach of the Imperials, as nothing good could come out of a confrontation with deluded fluf balls and highly xenophobic humans.  Adam would also feel terrible if the Celzex were to be insulted and retaliate with their deadly weapons against the Imperium.  (Although, later, he was to feel much the opposite and be thankful that the Celzex didn’t insult the Imperium)  The problem with this was that without him in control over the ship, the Celzex would probably start to roam, and inevitably, with their pride and the Imperials’ xenophobia, someone would get hurt.  He resolved to speak with Simone at the earliest possible opportunity.  

Commissar Ciaphas Cain, backed up by Jurgen, as always, stepped through the doorway to the cargo bay, the other room big enough to hold large bodies of people at one time.  He was to be in charge of all the ground combat operatives on the Omen, which, unfortunately, included a group of the ten feet tall four-armed xenos.  Despite Admiral Vir’s reassurances, Cain still wasn’t comforted.  Xenos were a tricky lot, and it was best to still be on guard, despite what the possibly heretical Admiral said.  The xenos, er, Drev, were lined up neatly next to the ship’s marines, and Cain walked down their rows to inspect them.  The Marines’ armor was odd, nothing like he had ever seen before on an Imperial Guardsman.  But, it was a new galaxy after all, so it made sense that new sights would be seen.  And, he thought to himself while inspecting the Drev soldiers, it could be worse.  One of the people at Drake’s meeting was accompanied by a small rodent-like xenos that could talk, and another with a brown hairy xenos that looked like a walking carpet.  Clearly, things could be worse.  Although, Cain, with several centuries (Authors note: in the Warhammer 40k universe, there are treatments to prolong people’s life spans.  Cain, being a high ranking commissar and a Hero of the Imperium had and has access to these treatments) of military experience really ought to have known better than to jinx it.  

“I am Ciaphas Cain.  Your captain and I have switched places to retain order between yourselves and the Imperial Guardsmen on board this ship.  It is our hope that you will all come to understand one another, so that we may carry out the Emperor’s work all the more efficiently.”  Damn.  He was still used to Imperial phrases and platitudes while making speeches.  “I shall be your commanding officer and oversee all of you and your efforts.  Unless you have any problems or questions, dismissed.”  Not one of his best speeches, but he wasn’t used to speaking to heretics and xenos.  Speaking of which, one of the big xenos, the Drev, he corrected himself, was sauntering over to his position.  

“You are presuming to command us?  I'm not sure if the Admiral told you, but in our culture, if you want command, you must fight for it.”  Cain wasn’t sure, but he thought the Drev, despite its beak-like mouth, was grinning at him.  Well frak.  He put on a casual outward appearance.  

“And if I don’t?”  The Drev shrugged.

“You cannot command us,” it said simply.  Most of the Marines and other Drev were sharing smiles between each other.  They wanted to see these arrogant Imperials put in their place.  And Cain, well, he had no idea if this custom was real, or if they were just making it up on the spot to spite him.  It didn’t matter either way.  He had to fight, otherwise, real custom or not, he would look weak, and the Drev and most of the Marines would probably refuse to serve under him.  He shrugged.  

“Fine then.  When is the fight?” he asked

“As soon as possible,” replied the Drev.

“See you in forty-five minutes.  Where, and, what are the rules?”  The Drev seemed to think things over, then replied.

“We shall make a combat area here.  We fight until disarmed or unable to continue.”

“I shall return in forty-five minutes,” replied Cain.  Frakkin’ xenos.  

Admiral Vir was frustrated.  He had returned to the bridge to talk to Simone about the Celzex situation.  Apparently, they were already mad that they could not go through the entire ship as they wished, and so he was required to go calm them down.  They wouldn’t listen to Simone.  Already, more problems.  And it was just at the point where he thought that the day couldn’t get any worse (again, he ought to have known better than to jinx it), when Ramirez, one of the Marines and a close friend of his, burst onto the bridge.  

“Adam!  We have a problem.”

“What else could have possibly gone wrong in the last half hour?”  Ramirez swallowed.

“Well, uh, the Drev challenged Cain to a fight.”

“They what?”

“They challenged Cain to a fight, as a way to get back at the Imperial’s insults.  A lot of the other marines are backing them.  I know it’s best if you guys restore order, which is why I’m telling you.”  Great.  Now Cian was going to get beat up, and he couldn’t do anything because he had to deal with the Celzex.  

“When’s the fight?”

”In ten minutes.”  It kept getting better and better, didn’t it?

“Try and stop them!” he practically yelled at Ramirez.  The last thing he needed was Cain getting beat up.  Then tensions would probably escalate until people started dying.  He hoped Ramirez could stop them in time.   

Cain stood at the edge of the space the Drev and Marines had laid out for the fight.  The edge of his chainsword was covered in black rubber, so as not to allow the razor sharp teeth to slice through his opponent.  (Author’s note:  Yes, chainsword.  It’s exactly what you think it is.  A chainsaw/sword)  His opponent, whose name he didn’t know, was holding a massive spear, blunted on the tip so he wouldn’t end up shish-kebabed.  Said opponent had been chosen by the other Drev, and Cain had no idea how good it was.  Hell, he had no idea what gender it was.  If, of course, Drev had genders, which he didn’t know and honestly didn’t really care about.  Most of the Drev and Marines were gathered around the circle, eager to see him get pummeled.  Hopefully, he would prove them wrong.  Hopefully.  It didn’t look good.  The Drev across from him was one of the big ones, standing ten feet tall with a forest green outer carapace.  It seemed to grin, an unseemly sight coming from it’s beak-like mouth, and spoke. “Commissar Cain, I am ready to begin.  Are you sure you want to fight in that coat?” it asked.  Several of the Marines snickered.  Cain hid his offended look behind a well practiced outer facade.  This time, he grinned in response.

“Of course.  I’ve fought many a tougher opponent than you in this coat.”  The Drev snarled.  

“Fine then.  We shall begin.”  The two fighters stepped forward, weapons raised, each one ready to test the other’s defences.  The Drev smiled to herself.  This would be easy.  A puny and arrogant human put in its place.  

Interestingly enough, most species throughout the now collective galaxies have a distressing tendency to not learn from the mistakes of the past.   The Drev were no exception.  This one seemed to forget that her species had once under-estimated humans, and it had cost them dearly, the Drev’s first ever major military defeat in war.  She lunged forward, spear singing through the air, intending to smash the sword out of Cain’s hand.  He sidestepped and deflected the shaft with contemptuous ease.  The Drev took a step back.  Surprising?  A little.  But it was of small matter.  That was just the opening blow.  She took a fighting stance, and the duel began in earnest.  

Ramirez sprinted through the ship, heading towards the cargo bay.  Hopefully, he would be in time to stop the fight, which would probably end badly for everyone involved, especially the Commissar.  If he was wounded or, unlikely but still possible, considering the mood most of the people on the ship were in, killed, the crew would be dealing with trained and armed soldiers without the oversight of their disciplinary officer.  In short, if the fight started, something bad would probably happen.  Unfortunately for him, he could see Cain and one of the Drev already in the combat ring, weapons drawn and raised, circling each other when he got to the cargo bay.  He was imminently familiar with Drev customs, having served alongside them for so long, and thus knew that interrupting the fight would probably cause worse problems than letting it continue.  There was nothing he could do but watch and hope Cain didn’t get pulverized.

The Drev scowled and launched another attack at Cain.  Once more, Cain’s feet moved in an intricate pattern, dancing around the blows, deflecting them with ease.  How?!  How was this possible?  This man wasn’t supposed to be this good!  She snarled and launched another attack.  

Cain spun out of the way of another blow.  The audience seemed to be taking closer notice it seemed.  It mattered little to him.  While the alien, Drev, he corrected himself, was certainly quite good, it wasn’t near the level of some of the opponents he had faced before.  It did not have the brute strength of an Ork, nor was it was hellishly fast as a genestealer, nor as overwhelmingly powerful as the demented servants of the Blood God.  He saw another swipe coming and sidestepped once more, knocking his opponent’s spear to the side.   

Several of the Marines were grinning.  There was, marines being marines, a betting pool for this fight.  The odds were overwhelmingly in favor of the Drev.  So in favor, in fact, that some of the marines had decided that they were just too good to be passed up and bet on Cain.  Now they grinned as Cain exhibited his deadly skill with a sword as their fellows glowered at them.  

Several of the more pragmatic and practical amongst the Drev and Marines were watching the combatants closely, noting how they fought for future reference and perhaps imitation.  The Drev, as benefited a warrior culture, had several different named styles for fighting with the most common weapon amongst  their kind, the spear.  The Drev in the ring was using what was known as the ‘Earth’ style, designed to deliver the most powerful and crushing blows as possible to one’s enemy.  Her form was good, noted several of the Drev absently.  What everyone was mostly looking at was Cain.  He fought using his own unique style, tailored to his tastes and abilities, and formulated to fight the horribly overpowered enemies of his home galaxy.  It was largely defensive in nature, designed to deflect blows with minimal effort so as to get his opponent to make a mistake or over-exert themselves.  But it was not only the style of the fighter, but the fighter himself that drew such attention.  It was plain to tell by those more experienced in the art of combat that Cain was an exceptionally good swordsman.  His reflexes allowed for no mistakes.  Every stroke was parried, every brutal blow knocked aside with a dexterity that astounded.  Every step was perfect, every counter attack measured so as to not let a single opening in his defenses.  He was more than good; he was one of the most deadly opponents anyone watching had ever seen.

And, finally, inevitably due to her frustration, the Drev over-extended herself.  She launched a wild, lunging sweep to Cain’s left.  Once more, he knocked it aside, then followed with a blindingly swift counter-attack.  Blow after blow rained down on the Drev, who did all she would to block the expertly executed counter, but finally, inevitably, with a twist and flourish of his chainsword, Cain knocked her spear from her hands.  Some of the watchers gasped.  Several applauded, mostly those who just won money.  Most just stood there, slack-jawed.  This wasn’t supposed to happen.  

Well, at least Cain didn’t get pulped, thought Ramirez.  He did wonder, however, exactly what the implications this victory would have.  

Later That Night

Admiral Vir had assembled his council.  Simone’s idea to switch Cain with Vir had already borne fruit, and the two factions were already more calm.  However, this was not the only part of the plan.  He had sent his most trusted friends to find out as much as they could about the Imperials and the culture they came from.  While Drake’s report was helpful, for some reason, the Imperial’s home galaxy was represented only sketchily, so Adam had decided to have his most trusted crew snoop around for questions.  The results were...alarming.  

“I had a one-on-one talk with the regiment’s chaplain, Tope,” said Maverick.  “They are totally infatuated with religion, which can be a problem just by itself, but their religion is what’s most concerning.  They believe that their Emperor is a living, breathing, omnipotent and omnipresent god, who they worship to the fullest extent.  The Emperor is entombed,”  she checked a notepad she had with her, “I think.  Anyway, he was apparently immortal, which seemed ludicrous, and is sitting on a massive life support device called the Golden Throne of Terra, where he’s been fueling a massive interstellar navigational beacon called the Astronomican.  It's all really bizarre and seems really improbable, but that’s not the worst part.  The tenants of this religion are as follows.”  She cleared her throat and read of her notepad.  “One: the God-Emperor of Mankind once walked among men in their form and that He is and always was the one true god of humanity.  Two: The God-Emperor of Mankind is the one true god of humanity regardless of any beliefs previously held by any man or woman.  That means there isn’t any religious tolerance in their Empire, which already isn’t endearing me to them.  Three: it is the duty of the faithful to purge the heretic, beware the mutant and, uh, psyker?” she struggled over the unfamiliar word.  “And abhor the alien.  Which explains why they don’t like us.  Four: Every human has a place in the God-Emperor’s divine order.   Five: It is the duty of the faithful to unquestionably obey the authority of the Imperial government and their superiors, who speak in the Divine Emperor’s name,” she finished.  The table shared concerned looks.  

“This smacks of Fascism,” intoned Narobi.    

“I’m inclined to agree,” replied Adam.  “However, we only got our crew and their soldiers off each other’s throats, and their relationship with the non-humans on board have improved markedly.  We can’t jeopardize that now, as much as I dislike how this government sounds.  What else did you find?”

“Well, as you know, Cain fought and beat a Drev,” said Ramirez.  Adam had heard.  Actually, it was probably one of the best things that could have happened.  The Drev had a high sense of honor, and thus accepted Cain totally.  The Marines respected him for being able to win a fight with a Drev.  He commanded the total respect of any of the Omen’s fighting crew.  

“How good is Cain?” asked Sunny skeptically.  She was a Drev, who was busy helping Simone run the ship, and so didn’t see the fight.  She didn’t see how an overly-elaborate dressed human had been able to take a ten-foot tall member of her species.  

“He’s good.  Very good,” replied Ramirez with probably altogether too much excitement for the situation.  

“Exactly how good?” 

“He could probably give Adam a run for his money.  In the Iron Eye suit.”  Several low whistles and incredulous expressions greeted this information.  Adam was himself no slouch at hand-to-hand combat, and the Iron Eye suit was a series of armored prosthetic enhancements that made its wearer move faster, jump higher, fight stronger; plus there was the fact that it was armor, which meant that it was really hard for any weapon to penetrate.  The idea that a single non-enhanced human could take on an Iron Eye soldier was frightening.  

“Alright then.  Anything else?” asked Adam.

“I went to the armory.  The Imperials asked to store their spare weapons there.  Most of the stuff there...is like nothing I’ve ever seen.  Their main weapon seems to be a laser rifle which runs off of rechargeable batteries,” said Sunny.  Laser rifles?  Now that was interesting.  Adam Vir was, by his own admission, a sci-fi fanatic.  Now he wanted a laser rifle.  

“Well, despite what it seems, we should try and keep an open mind.  They seem to be very logical and level-headed,” he said.  There were nods of agreement around the table.  “If no one has any other comments, dismissed.”  Little did the crew of the Omen know, but Cain and the other Imperial officers were doing the same thing on their side of the ship.

“Well, what did you find?” Cain asked Major Broklaw.  

“Their government is called the Galactic Assembly.  It’s a big council where all the races of the galaxy sit down and discuss their problems,” Broklaw sneered.  

“Great.  A bounce of xenos-loving filth,” muttered Sulla, one of the captains.  Cain ignored her.

“Chaplain Tope?  What did you find?” he asked.

“They have many different religions, and before any of you start yelling ‘heretic!’, that is to be expected.  You see, they come from a place that is devoid of the divine radiance of the Emperor, and thus, their tendencies will probably go against the Imperial Creed.  That’s all right, though.  I’m sure that we can bring them into the loving light of the Emperor soon.”  Cain nodded with approval.  He liked Tope.  Tope wasn’t what he liked to refer to as an Emperor-bother, one of the people who thought that they should be praying, day in and day out; completely obsessed with religion.  Tope was more practical.  And Cain had found through a long military career that the Emperor helped those who helped themselves.  

“That’s good, then.  I must say that we should keep somewhat of an open mind about all of these people.  They are humans after all, albeit humans from a different galaxy.  They do not have the teachings of the Emperor to rely on.”  Most of the heads around the table nodded.  “Kasteen, what did you find about your new acting Commissar?” he asked with a smile.

“Well, first off, he was born on Holy Terra.”  That caused some low whistles and incredulous stares.  Despite there being no Emperor in Adam Vir’s galaxy, he was still born upon Holy Terra, the sacred homeworld of the human race.  That had to count for something, right?  

“Well, if we’re being led by a native-born Terran, then we’ll probably be in good hands.  No offense,” one of the captains shot a look at Cain.  He laughed.  No offense was taken.  

“Anything else?”

“What about the fight?” asked Sulla.  Cain shrugged and gave a self-deprecating smile.  

“Those big aliens are good.  I just got lucky.”  Kasteen and Broklaw shared a look.  The Commissar was being too modest again.  In reality, he was probably the best swordsman either of them had ever seen.  But that was the Commissar.  A humble hero.

Well, on that note, that’s the story!  Endings are always the hardest to get right.  For any of you wondering how exactly Cain could have beaten a Drev, well, like I stated, he’s a very, very good swordsman.  Good enough to beat the terrifying opponents I mentioned during the duel, which if you want to know more about, just ask.  If you have any comments, criticisms, concerns, thoughts, ideas, or id you just want to know more about any of these wonderful sci-fi universes, feel free to ask!  Wherever you are, have a wonderful day!   

[heungtanbts]

Quarter Life Crisis

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre/warning: slow burn friends to lovers!au, friend zoning, being dense AF, swearing & sarcastic bantering, a smidge of angst, explicit implications of smut

word count: 25k 

A/N: guys. i’ve never written something this long and in depth before and i honestly don’t know how to feel about it. but i do know i have a newfound respect for fic writers. i poured so much time and effort into this, and can only imagine what other writers go through so please remember to show your fave writers love for all their hard work! 

In the movies, the recently graduated, mid-twenties protagonist sets off on the journey of life and seems to immediately land a fantastic job, find a stellar unit in an even more luxurious apartment complex, gets a fancy car with a name that’s impossible to pronounce, is in a long term relationship from college and is going to receive a proposal within the next few months (but doesn’t know it yet), and basically, has life all figured out. If movies are going to portray young adult life like that, then that’s ideally what your twenties should be like, right? Being young, educated, ready to take on the world, further discovering yourself and finding true love.

This, however, is not what you imagined your mid-twenties to be like.

Sitting in a comfy pair of capri leggings and an oversized college t-shirt, you sink into your sofa and suck in a labored breath. You really shouldn’t have finished that last bit of Shanghai fried noodles. T’was a mistake, a horrible mistake. Rolling down the waistband of your leggings, your belly pops out, set free, and you finally feel like you can breathe again.

“Wow, you’re really packin’ heat there, huh Pillsbury?” A low voice calls mockingly from across the room.

“Shut up, I’m proud of my life achievements okay.” You immediately retaliate, not even bothering to look at the other potato potato-ing at the opposite end of the sofa.

You hear him snort incredulously. “Ah yes, because ‘he who achieves the pudge, achieves in life.’ Definitely heard Yoda say that one somewhere.”

Letting your head lull to the side, you can’t stop yourself from snickering at the sight of Jungkook sitting criss-cross-apple-sauce, hands held up in OK signs, eyes shut and head bobbing from side to side ridiculously in what you deem to be an extremely inaccurate impersonation of Yoda. Why you continue to hang out with this dweeb and allow him to put his nasty feet up on your coffee table right after hitting the gym for two hours is beyond you. Must be because it’s Friday night, affectionately known as Fat Friday, and he’s always the one who brings take out, like it’s a peace offering of some sort. That’s why.

At this age you would’ve never imagined that life would consist of a weekly Fat Friday “take out and a movie” routine with your best friend from college. As a young adult, you know you’re fortunate to have a stable 8-5 job that you don’t hate, a clean and cozy apartment unit in the city (with in unit laundry machines, bless up) and a small group of friends that stand by you through thick and thin. But after spending so many days and years like this, you can’t help but question it all.

According to those damn rom-coms, you should be out going on adventures, mingling with new people, sipping on over-priced drinks, showing up to the club with your posse and, maybe if you’re lucky, waltzing out with a newly acquired friend for the night. But here you are instead, having a chopsticks war with Jungkook over the last crab rangoon Kung-fu Panda style, even though you’re so full, the delicious fried appetizer might just have to sit in your throat for a while until your digestive system can make room for it. Living in your twenties is wild, just absolutely wild.

“God, please don’t tell me you do this when you go on dates.” Jungkook looks at you in both disgust and awe as you pop the last crab rangoon in your mouth, chewing noisily on purpose to rub it in his face while simultaneously enjoying the crunch.

“What, eat?” A speck of crab escapes and lands on your chin. Now Jungkook definitely looks more grossed out than amazed as he reaches out to thumb at your chin, removing the bit of artificial seafood and making a face as he wipes it on a nearby napkin.

“No, this isn’t eating. This is straight up a clip from the Discovery Channel about predators swallowing their prey.” He deadpans. “It’s like you’re training to be a food fighter, or something.”

You suddenly look up, eyes beaming with enlightenment, “That’s it, a food fighter, of course! That’s what I should be pursuing in life! Jeon, for once, you and your one brain cell have managed to come up with a brilliant idea.”

Jungkook doesn’t even seem phased by your insult and just moves to make himself comfortable, kicking his feet up on the coffee table as per usual. “You know, I actually think you could do it. With the way you eat- no, inhale food, you could show the world your one and only talent – gluttony.” He grins victoriously only to have to whip his neck from side to side in order to avoid the used chopsticks you spear at him, the wooden sticks clattering onto the linoleum floor. You scowl openly from having missed, settling back onto the sofa with your arms crossed over your chest.

“I could start my own muk-bang stream.” You think aloud, seriously considering the occupation for a moment. “Look cute, eat ten packets of ramen, answer questions about my life from the millions of die-hard fans watching – I could totally live that life.”

Jungkook chuckles at the mental imagery he gets, “Yeah, and then majestically throw up for your two whole precious fans to witness. Real cute.” His lip quirks upwards, “Those two poor fans, scarred for life, never able to heal from the trauma.”

You glare at him. “Just wait until my boyfriend hears of this, he won’t stand for this kind of abuse you give me. Is this even friendship? Where’s the love? The support?” You clutch at your chest dramatically, “Where’s the camaraderie, best friend? Where’s the-” You’re so rudely cut off by a pillow to the face, thrown by none other than your so-called best friend.

“Puh-lease, Park SeoJoon is way out of your league. I said it. Sniff sniff, cry cry, get over it, babe.”

You frown, shaking a closed fist at him. “One day, Jeon, you’ll see. One day.” With a defeated sigh, you flop onto your back and throw your feet up onto Jungkook’s lap, ignoring the “ugh your feet smell” comment he makes and instead, focusing on the dreary white ceiling of your unit.

The both of you know it’s just harmless joking when you refer to Park SeoJoon as your boyfriend and whenever Jungkook makes fun of your eating habits and pudgy food babies. To strangers, the way you two interact may seem a bit harsh and pretty immature, but for the two of you, the playful insults and level of savagery are just right. It’s a relief that you can bicker and banter with him and know there are no hard feelings, that you two know each other well enough to know where the lines that should not be crossed are. But it hasn’t always been this way.

When you first met Jungkook freshman year of college, he was ridiculously shy, probably one of the most soft spoken and just plain awkward people you’d ever met. So much so that, being the decent, civilized human being you were, you felt completely obligated to be nice back, mostly because you were afraid he might cry if you accidentally looked him in the eye or something. He seemed so delicate, perpetually wide eyed and fearful, and for that reason, you felt a little more distant from him and closer with the other guys. You were able to freely throw around insults and make all the snarky jabs you wanted around them. Jungkook was just too quiet, and thus you were too nice to him. That is, until one day, your mutual friend Taehyung proposed the idea of having a Mario Kart tournament out of boredom, and somehow it ended up being just you and Jungkook in the final race. Spoiler alert – you beat Jungkook. Blue shelled him right at the finish line and cackled like a disney villain as you cut right in front and took first place. You’ll never forget that moment – it was the first time he ever swore at you. Actually, that was the first time you ever heard Jungkook swear period – ears red at the tips, cheating accusations and demands for a rematch flying around chaotically. But ever since then, that weird wall between you two came crashing down, and that is how your beautiful meme of a friendship came to be.

In the comfortable silence, some random Marvel movie on in the background, you glance over at your best friend, lips involuntarily curling up into a smile. You’re more than glad that those walls came down that day, that you were able to spend majority of your college days attached at the hip, that now, as annoying as he may be, Jungkook is still by your side to this day, eating greasy take-out with you and spending what should be a lively night out, at home instead, vegging out and pigging out. A very nice Friday evening in, with a blubbery food baby. And Park SeoJoon as your imaginary boyfriend. You suddenly groan at the thought and shove your face into the pillow Jungkook just threw at you. It’s been approximately three years since your last relationship, but for some reason it feels like it’s been so much longer than that. That relationship with your then college boyfriend ended shortly after graduation and you can’t believe that was truly the last time you dated someone. You remember spending two weeks ruining Jungkook’s shirts one by one with your snot and tears while hugging tubs of melting ice cream to your chest. Three. Whole. Years. Ago.

You let out another groan and it’s louder this time, even with the pillow muffling your mouth. You’re unable to control your train of thought as it travels to a more stressful place, ruining your once zen state of mind on this lovely Fat Friday evening. What are you even doing with your life? Or to put more accurately, what are you doing wrong with your life? Are you doing something wrong? It just feels like at this point, you should you be doing something more, chasing after your goals and dreams, or at least have some more adult characteristics to your life. While it’s very true that you already have so much to be thankful for, for some reason it just feels like you’re doing something wrong – or something’s just missing. Everyone else seems to have it all together, so why do you still feel like you’re ten steps behind?

You must’ve groaned a couple times more without even realizing it because moments later, the pillow is abruptly snatched away from your face, revealing a very puzzled Jungkook.

“What are you moaning and groaning about?” He asks, raising a brow before giving you a look of utter disbelief. “Is it because of what I said about Park SeoJoon? Woman, for the last time, you just gotta accept the fact that it’s not gonna happen and move on with your li-”

“Jungkook,” You interject, voice quieter than normal. “Am- am I just doing this all wrong?”  

Jungkook abruptly comes to a halt, his mouth still hanging open silently from when you cut him off. A slew of jokes and insults remains lodged in his throat as his chocolate eyes closely study your face. You can tell he’s internally debating on how seriously he should be taking your words. Like is this a “reply with another joke” kind of situation, or a “sit down, tell me what’s wrong” kind of conversation that’s about to happen? It feels like this is always how conversations are between the two of you, they can switch from childish insults to pondering the meaning of life in the blink of an eye. Luckily, Jungkook’s used to it by now – having sudden and unexpectedly deep conversations with you doesn’t terrify him anymore like it used to in the past.  

“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook inquires, deciding it’d be best to tread carefully. He uncrosses his legs and places his feet on the floor, elbows resting on his knees in a much more serious posture.

Over time, he’s gotten so good at feeling you out and directing the conversation as needed, even though he used to have internal melt downs every time you would open up to him. He’s gotten so much better at having conversations period – he handles them like champ now.

“What are we doing Jeon?” The words come out as a deflated sigh, an accurate description of how you feel at the moment. “It’s Friday night and while people our age are spending way too much money getting drunk and having fun taking over the city, we’re upholding a Friday tradition that consists of eating pure oil and poking at our food babies.” Jungkook immediately glances down at his own stomach before meeting your eyes again.

“Uh, I don’t have a food baby so you’re kind of alone on that one.” Jungkook corrects you, rubbing his hand up and down against his flat stomach. You shoot him the deadliest glare you can conjure up. It’s not your fault your body was made to cling to blubber in order to have babies and produce life in this world.

“What, you wanna just go out then?” Jungkook suggests, ignoring the daggers you send his way. “We always have the option to go out and get drunk, you know. If that’s what you wanna do, let’s just call some people up and go then.” Giving the glare a rest, you shake your head, arms and legs splayed out like a starfish as you stare up at nothing, another sigh heavy on your chest.

“That’s not it, Jeon. I just- ugh, I don’t know.” You twist around and smack your fists and feet against the sofa cushion, like a child throwing a mini tantrum. “All I know is that I’m young, I’m single, with all the time in the world and yet here I am, living life like a retired grandma.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with being a retired grandma? That’s like the ultimate goal in life.” Jungkook tuts, leaning forward to grab his bazillionth fried egg roll of the night. That boy is an intergalactic blackhole when it comes to food, yet he never has a food baby, damn damn damn.

“When I was 18, I remember wanting to hurry up and grow up and be in my twenties already.” You reminisce, still focusing on the popcorn pattern decorating the ceiling, “I figured by the time I was 26, I’d have discovered my true passions while exploring my twenties, that I’d be married, settled down after having fully lived out my younger years, maybe on the way with a little one or two, I don’t know.” You bemoan. “I guess adulthood just isn’t what I expected it to be.”

“So what you’re saying is you want to get pregnant.” Jungkook’s smiles mischievously as he leans towards you, flashing you a wink, “That can be easily arranged.”

“Pervert,” You jokingly shove him away, and he just chuckles. “You know that’s not what I meant. Plus I’m not ready to have kids, could you even imagine it?” Your eyes widen comically in horror, “I can barely take care of myself – God knows if I’d be able to keep a tiny, fragile human being alive.” 

“True, those succulents you got for your birthday last year barely lasted two weeks,” Jungkook raises his cup to his lips, coughing under his breath before taking a sip, “even though they’re like the easiest plants to raise.”

“Please, rub more salt on my wound Jeon, I insist!”

Jungkook gives you a satisfied smirk before his demeanor morphs into something more serious, fingers rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. “I mean, I don’t think you’re doing anything wrong,” He muses, eyes flicking upwards to meet yours as he gives you one of his gentle, heartwarming smiles – the rare kind that comes out when he’s done joking and ready to comfort you.

“Think about it, you’ve pretty much met majority of the societal standards there are for being a young adult in this day and age. You’re educated, you have a job with a steady pay, got your own place, and you lead a pretty stable lifestyle.” He absentmindedly plays with the cup in his hands. “But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with still not knowing exactly what it is you want to do, or what next steps you want to take. Like so what if you’re single, lots of people are.” Jungkook shrugs. “Who even says that has to be the next step you take? I think it’s still okay that you are,” he looks down at his hands, expression soft, “that we are, still trying to figure things out, one day at a time, you know?”

You hum in agreement, Jungkook’s words bringing immediate comfort to your restless mind. He’s right. It’s not like you’ve made any grave mistakes or have some monumental life-or death issue to face. It’s not a sin to just do your own thing and not follow the “standard” steps of life people usually take. It’s just that the concept of it all, the topic itself, makes you feel like a baby – a very lost, disappointed, overgrown cry-baby because you don’t really feel put together or like you know what you’re doing. But like Jungkook said, that’s okay. It’s alright that you’re still trying to figure it all out, at your own pace – you’re slowly creating your own path.

“Since when did you get so wise, huh Jeon?” You smile, spirits lifted and already feeling a lot better than just a few minutes ago. Jungkook just always seems to know what to say to make you feel better.

He just shrugs with a jokingly cocky pout of his lips, “I’m the quarter life crisis guru, come to me with all your first world problems and you shall find enlightenment.” His words automatically make you punch him in the arm lightly and all you can afford is a weak insult muttered under your breath with a small smile on your lips.

If you were to have this conversation with anyone else besides Jungkook, you would probably die before admitting such embarrassingly trivial, quarter-life-crisis complaints. It hurts your pride, being an adult and having to admit you don’t really know what you’re doing with life. But because this is Jungkook, the insecurities of your heart come out so easily. No matter how much you joke around or annoy each other, he’s your closest and most trusted confidant. He’s actually a great listener – so honest yet gentle with his words (when he’s being serious, of course), and with him, figuring out life’s problems isn’t as daunting of a task. With him, conversations flow, anxiety is immediately blanketed over with a comforting peace, solutions are developed more smoothly, plans get put into action more proactively. He may still be salty every time he sees a blue shell and still gives you hell for it to this day, but if he was really that annoyed by you, he wouldn’t be sitting on your couch, listening to you complain and trying to help you figure out your life. That’s Jungkook for you – good old reliable Jungkook.

“Did someone say quarter life crisis?” You both whip your heads toward the door at the familiar voice that suddenly calls out of nowhere. “If it’s ___ we’re talking about, then she just needs to get laid. Problem solved.” That same voice lets out a yelp when a bunny slipper comes flying at his head.

“We have intruders.” You mutter as you look down at your one bare foot, the moment completely ruined. “I knew I shouldn’t have given you guys a spare key.”

“But you did, and it comes in handy in times like these.” Another voice, lighter and higher pitched than the first, pipes up. You allow your eyes to close, as if trying to take in the last bits of comfort from your conversation with Jungkook as jackets and bags are rustled around, the sound of footsteps growing louder and closer to you.

“How long have you guys been standing there?” Jungkook questions the newly arrived guests.

“Long enough to know that ___ needs to get some.” The first voice replies teasingly. Eyes still closed, the couch quickly sinks down next you, and an arm is thrown around your shoulders, “So, the well’s a bit dry this season, huh?”

“Oh my god shut up, Tae.”

“It’s drought season and the crops are in need of a good ol’ watering, ayy?”

“I’m seriously going to punch your face in.”

“Moses parted the Red Sea and then just left it parted, huh? Tsk tsk, the cruel man.”

Back in college, once those barriers between you and Jungkook came down, they seemed to come down with everyone else as well. As you and the others really started to get to know Jungkook, you quickly learned that he was the complete opposite of how he initially presented himself. He wasn’t shy at all, or timid in the least – the boy loved to joke around and once he was comfortable, would shoot playful insults left and right and make all the sassy comments just as much as you did, if not more. Because of that, he could be a real pain, since he seemed to thrive off of messing with you and seeing your reactions. But if you thought Jungkook was a pain in the ass, then Taehyung proved himself to be a real thirty-six-foot flagpole up your ass. No one ever guessed that timid little Jungkook would click so well with Taehyung and that together as a team of evil, they would cause you so much misery. It was to the point that everyone knew better than to leave the three of you alone together for longer than five minutes – for the sake of world peace. Though after growing up a little and leaving college, Taehyung stopped mucking around as much, and he seemed to calm down even more once he and Hari got together. But the little shit-head spirit still lives on inside of him to this day – it’s a light that no one can snuff out. Bless Hari’s heart for continuing to keep tight reins on him and love his sorry ass.

Before you can show him the fullness of your wrath, Taehyung gives you a shit-eating grin and quickly bounces over to the other section of the couch where his girlfriend, aka your closest gal pal and college roommate Hari has taken a seat, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“She’s being awfully scary today, what’d you do Kook?”

Jungkook lets out an offended huff, and he’s right back to his normal, sarcastic self. “The hell did I do, I brought her highness take out on my way back from the gym and we’re watching her favorite Iron Man again for the umpteenth time.” He crosses his arms over his chest, “I’ve done nothing wrong.” 

“You love Iron Man as much as I do, bitch. Don’t even try me with that shit.”

“See? Major case of the grumps.”

Hari peels Taehyung’s arms off and gives him a scolding look when he whines before making her way to your side. She places a comforting hand on your back, peering down at your distraught face. “You alright, ­___? What’s up?”

“Ugh, it’s nothing, really.” You hide your face in your hands, “It’s literally not a big deal, I’m just a little irked, I guess.” Though it hurts your pride, you decide to be a little more honest, since they’ve already heard bits of your conversation with Jungkook. “Just debating whether I’m living my 26-year-old life right or not, that’s all.”

Hari raises her eyebrows, as if she can’t believe what her ears are hearing. “You’ve got a grown ass man who brings you take out all the time and willingly gives you free reign over his Netflix account. Looks to me you’re living the life, bub.”

“I think that was supposed to make me feel appreciated, but it just made me sound whipped as hell.”

Hari waves a hand dismissively at Jungkook, who scowls and starts reconsidering his life choices. “So what, you wanna go out and do something then? Something to make you feel better? Or in general, how can we,” She gestures to the three of them in a circular motion, “help convince you that you’re doing life just fine?”

“I’m telling ya, she just needs to get boned.” Taehyung mumbles while happily chewing on a fortune cookie. “See, even my fortune cookie agrees with me – thou must get the D in order to succeed.” You abruptly stand to your feet, turning to him with poisonous daggers shooting from your eyes.

“That’s it, get your punk ass over here, you little-“

“A boyfriend!” Hari suddenly clasps her hands together, an imaginary light bulb flickering over her head, “___ needs more than just a one-night stand, babe – we need to get her a mans.” You halt in your forward lunge towards Taehyung, who’s curled up in fetal position with his hands covering his head, and turn to her, your eyebrows knitting together in disbelief.

“You really think getting a boyfriend’s going to make me feel better?”

She nods eagerly, looking utterly convinced. “Let’s consider the facts for a moment, shall we? You’ve been out of school and working for a couple of years now, you’ve got this pad in the city all to yourself and nothing to do but eat junk and re-watch old superhero movies,” Your mouth falls open to protest, but Hari puts a finger to your lips, shushing you effectively. “And you’re having all these quarter-life-crisis symptoms. Maybe the issue is that it’s time for you to move on to the next chapter of your life, which in this case could be—”

“—finding a bae.” Taehyung finishes for her, his eyes wide as saucers as he uncurls from his fetal position to sit up on the couch. “Makes sense to me! HyukJae was what, three years ago? And you’ve been single ever since. Now that you’re an established, independent woman, there’s nothing holding you back from finding someone to do life with.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.  

There’s a beat of silence, but you wonder if the others can hear the gears turning in your head as you contemplate this proposal. It literally goes against everything Jungkook just said, finding a boyfriend just because it’s the proper “next step” you should be taking. Plus it’s not like you need a man to make your life complete – you’re already happily successful in sustaining yourself and your relationships with what you’ve got right now. But, you have to admit, a special someone could help spice things up a little, make life a little more fun and a little less drab. Maybe this person could help push you out of your comfort zone to go explore the city, find some new hobbies, get out of the apartment and try something new period. Maybe this significant other could help pave this new path for you and your life, because if lazy people were an army, then you would be the head chief in command, so God knows you need the help. So maybe, maybe you just need a little outside push to get you going.

The more you think about it, the more convinced you are that it’s at least worth a shot, and the determination slowly begins to grow inside of you. You know what Jungkook said but you figure taking this step is better than doing nothing at all. You suddenly stand up and pump your fist in the air like it’s a declaration of war, and you end up startling the others with your abrupt actions.

“Okay, let’s do it.” You announce, finding a new sense of motivation within you. “Let’s go and find me a mans! HUZZAH!”

Hari jumps up and squeals, immediately grabbing your phone off the coffee table and gushing about helping you make a dating profile and about which apps would be best for you to use. In the midst of all the commotion, Jungkook remains silent, his eyes trained on the floor, expression hard to read. But the excitement is too dizzying for you to notice. You just can’t help but have a good feeling about this next step in your life.

- - - - - 

“Okay, bread, check. Rice… check. Veggies, strawberries, bananas, check check check.”

“Don’t forget my Lucky Charms.”

Looking up from your phone, you cock your head at the man with the messy wavy hair casually leaning on the shopping cart rail, a look of disbelief painted on your face. “I still don’t get why I have to include your favorite cereal on my grocery list, Jeon.” Jungkook makes a funny face at you, one that makes him look dramatically offended, the cart coming to an abrupt stop.

“Um, first of all, Lucky Charms should be everyone’s favorite cereal, including yours. And second, I need to keep a box at your place for when we do delivery ‘cause I need something to eat right after working out or else I feel like I’m gonna die – literally.”

You roll your eyes and ignore the way Jungkook shoots a grin your way as he continues to push the cart. “You’re a grown ass man who makes his own money, get your own sugary cereal.”

“Do you want your best friend to starve to death? Is that the kind of love we’ve got here?”

“And you call me dramatic.”

Pausing at the cereal section, you internally groan after seeing that some jerk just had to put all the boxes of Lucky Charms up on the top shelf. You need to have a word with the grocery store manager about discriminating so openly against short people like this.

“So speaking of bananas, how’s the dating app thing going?” Jungkook asks casually, whistling along to the song they’re playing at the store. This time you groan externally, lowering your head down to rest it on the other available half of the shopping cart handle.

“You did not just use bananas as a segway into this conversation.”

Jungkook hums in indifference, pushing the cart along and smiling to himself when you continue to walk with him, still face down and leaning on the shopping cart. He suddenly comes to a stop which results in you hitting your head against the metal bars where infants are supposed to sit, and you mutter a curse at him, rubbing the sore spot as you meet his eyes with a glare. He just arches a brow innocently and points up at the shelf, looking all too smug for your liking. “Found the Lucky Charms.”

You let out a huff before nudging Jungkook out of the way. “I mean, it’s only been three days, but it’s going alright, I guess.” You inform him, making your way towards the shelves. “I’ve only talked to like two guys so far, but honestly it’s just, kinda weird? I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel natural at all, so that’s been rough.”

It’s only been a few days since your little eureka moment about seizing the day and giving your adult life a re-vamping. It’s been strange, having small talk conversation with potential dates with only having a few pictures and some witty captions and quotes on their “About Me” pages to go off of. Technology has certainly reinvented the way people date nowadays, but you can’t help but miss meeting people naturally through mutual friends or at a social event or something. Nevertheless, Hari’s been harping on you every day about any new matches you’ve made and keeping close tabs on your conversations with your matches, but it surprises you that Jungkook’s suddenly taking interest in this whole spiel. He’s seemed so uninterested in this from the start, which was a bit disappointing if you’re being honest. You had hoped you’d be able to talk to him more about it and get his opinions on your matches and who seemed good and who seemed like a left-swipe, only to get less than enthusiastic input from him. So for him to suddenly bring it up on his own volition is certainly an unexpected surprise.

“Mmm, I see.” You don’t even notice the way Jungkook’s voice dumbs down a notch from behind, too busy staring up at the colorful rainbow box above your head as determination settles in your stomach. If you just believe in yourself, you can do it – you will reach that goddamn box of cereal for your goddamned best friend and his childish taste palate, even if it kills you. This isn’t for Jungkook – this is for all the other shorties in the world.

You make your first attempt to reach the cereal. You’re up on your toes and then come straight back down, your fingers not even coming close to reaching the stupid box when Jungkook finally speaks up again. “What- what do you even look for in a guy, anyways?”

You pause for a moment, stopping yourself from jumping up for your second attempt to turn and face Jungkook. Even though the two of you are best friends, you realize you don’t really talk about this kind of stuff with him. Hari is always your go-to friend for these types of conversations, and it dawns on you that not only does Jungkook not know what your ideal type is, but you also have no idea what his is either. You’re surprised to discover something you don’t know about your best friend.

“Well, for starters, I’d appreciate it if he wasn’t a serial killer.” You muse, tapping your index finger on your chin thoughtfully. “I also feel like I like guys who are tall, have nice hair, who keep themselves fit and know how to dress well. You know, a guy who knows how to be a basic human being.”

“Oh, so basically me.” Jungkook quips, “I’m flattered, babe, really. Didn’t know you were so into this.” He sticks his tongue out when you smack his arm in response.

“Someone who wears anything besides hoodies and basketball shorts.” You emphasize jokingly, sticking your tongue out right back at him.

Jungkook raises his brows. “So wearing nothing? I could dig the nudist life, sounds chill.”

You snort, “Please, Jeon, spare us all.” Turning back to the shelves, you continue to think aloud. “I don’t know, I just want someone who’s easy to talk to, like a friend, someone who likes to joke around, but can be serious when needed. Someone who’s passionate about his ambitions in life and is a real go-getter, unlike myself. Someone who will be romantic and loyal – not like all the cheese you see in the movies, but in his own special way. You know,” you shrug, coming up onto your toes as you take another unsuccessful swipe at the box of cereal, your fingertips grazing the edge of it, “someone who will just love me right, I guess.” With a little hop, you accidentally push the cereal box an inch backwards and it pulls a frustrated noise out of you. But you are determined to stay here all night if it means you’ll be able to get this cereal box down yourself. Fucking Jungkook and his cereal needs. 

“What about you, Jeon?” You grunt out, this time reaching up with your other arm, as if it’ll make a difference. “What’s your type?” A rush of excitement comes over you when you manage to sneak the box back to its original spot, and now you can almost get two fingers around it.

“I…don’t really know.” You hear Jungkook say softly behind you, but you’re too zoned in on those damn Lucky Charms to notice the change in his demeanor. “I agree with a lot of the traits you named off, I guess.”

“What, you want someone tall, athletic, and well-dressed too?” You can most definitely hear Jungkook roll his eyes at that comment, and it makes you smile, even as you continue to struggle to make contact with the flimsy cardboard box, muttering incoherent complaints under your breath.

“I mean if he isn’t Park SeoJoon, then I’m not interested.”

Still facing the shelves, you can’t help but laugh at his mocking tone, even though you know he’s mimicking you. “Okay seriously though, I just realized I don’t know really this stuff about you. And come to think of it, I haven’t seen you date someone in like years.”

There’s a short pause in the conversation when suddenly you feel something warm press up against your back, and it startles you. You crane your neck upwards at a diagonal to see what it is and nearly let out a yelp. Jungkook’s face is merely inches away from yours, his eyes fixed on the box of Lucky Charms above. The scent of light soap and clean laundry detergent mixed with something slightly musky overwhelms your senses as he leans forward and presses himself against your back even more, the sensation causing a breath to become lodged in your throat. Without even having to rise onto his toes, he easily grabs the dumb box of Lucky Charms, finally ending your misery in more ways than just one, and before your body can even experience a full-on proper reaction, he’s already moving, a sudden chill replacing the warmth on your back as he moves to toss the cereal into the cart.

“Yeah, last time I dated was Ji Soo my sophomore year. Damn, that was a long time ago.” Jungkook recalls, leaning on the cart and continuing to push it down the aisle, not having any clue what he just did. He has no clue that your heart is suddenly thumping wildly in your chest, and that a heat is starting to spread across your cheeks, and you have to physically pinch yourself to snap out of it before Jungkook can notice something’s off.

Whenever Jungkook is physical with you, it’s almost always tied in with a joke or is just a part of the platonic comfort you two share with one another. Ruffling your hair, having his head or feet in your lap, pinching his cheeks – none of that is out of the ordinary. But feeling his back against you, his body so close and radiating heat onto your skin, breath puffing over your cheeks – this is all uncharted territory for you. And as his best friend, you’re not quite sure how to process the physiological effects you’re experiencing from it. You’re still in a bit of a daze, and you end up trailing a few steps behind him, close enough to keep up with the conversation but far enough to allow your body calm down. It’s sad how worked up you got just from your male best friend pressing himself up against you so suddenly. Maybe Taehyung is right and you’re just in desperate need for some physical intimacy or something.

“Ground ginger’s next on the list.” You mumble timidly, following Jungkook as he rounds the corner and into the next aisle. “B-but yeah, Ji Soo – feels like that whole month-long shebang happened eons ago.” You almost curse out loud when you see rows on rows of all kinds of spices littering the bottom shelves, and the one spice you need up on the damn top shelf once again. Starting next week, you will wear heels to the grocery store. Or stilts – whatever it takes.

“Yeah,” Jungkook chuckles to himself, “I still can’t believe she liked me so much that I just decided to go with it. Young dumb Jungkook definitely learned early on that that’s not how relationships work.”

“Cocky bastard.” You scoff, shaking your head. But he just shrugs, as if to say “it is what it is.”

“So how come you haven’t dated anyone since then?” You inquire, hoping Jungkook hasn’t noticed where the ground ginger is located because this time, you are hell bent on just snatching it up and calling it good already. You’ve had enough strange, foreign bodily reactions for the day.

“I…I don’t know.” Jungkook admits as you sneakily side step towards the shelf, standing up on your tiptoes while he’s busy staring off into the distance. His expression is reflective, and almost a little solemn as well. He really seems to be contemplating and taking this whole conversation quite seriously, even though it wasn’t intended to be that way. Maybe he still misses Ji Soo or something, the poor boy.

“I guess… I’ve just been waiting for the right person to come along.” Jungkook finally states after another few moments of silence, which you unceremoniously break after landing on your feet too loudly in a sad attempt to quietly jump and grab the bottle of ginger, which obviously didn’t happen quietly or at all, period.

A long list of all the expletives you know in multiple languages runs through your mind as you feel the warm plane of Jungkook’s chest press against your shoulder blades again. This time his fingers brush against yours along the way, and it almost feels like he lingers there for a second, but it’s probably just your imagination because before you know it, he’s already backing away and tossing the ground ginger into the cart, just like before. You really must be on something today – your raging hormones and galloping heart need to get their shit together and calm down already.

“I-I’m sure you’ll find her soon, one day.” You manage to stutter out, an awkward smile on your lips, “Someone who will accept you, even though you have the taste buds of a five-year-old.” You joke in hopes of lightening the mood that has somehow changed drastically in the last few minutes. Whether it’s because of how pensive Jungkook’s suddenly become or because of your inability to control your bodily functions at the moment, the air definitely feels different compared to five minutes ago, and it’s not very comfortable – at all. Fortunately, the joke seems to do the trick because a smile slowly spreads across Jungkook’s face, and all the seriousness and weird angst seems to vanish almost immediately.  

“Least I don’t still dip my oreos in my milk when I eat them. Heck, I don’t even eat oreos anymore.” Jungkook scoffs teasingly, eyeing the blue package of cookies in the cart, “Seriously what are you, a child?”

“See? You’ve got such shit taste buds, Jeon.” You shake your head pitifully at him. “Just watch, you’re gonna end up dating a huge foodie or a professional food blogger who will properly roast you for having such awful taste, and I’d pay just to watch it all go down.” The imagery itself makes you laugh, and you take advantage of the newly livened mood to snag the cart from Jungkook and head towards the cash registers. “Let me know if you’re ever interested and I’ll help you hunt one down, yeah?”

You pause to flash a cheeky grin towards Jungkook, and the way he chuckles in disbelief is satisfying enough of a reaction for you to turn back around and make your way towards the self-check out area. But you miss the way Jungkook’s laughter quickly dwindles, transitioning into a soft sigh as he watches your figure walk farther and farther away.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely let you know, someday.”

- - - - - 

“Welp, that’s number six in the books. Check. Done-zo. Fin. Es todo. Hip hop’s dead, y’all – it’s dead!”

“Uh, I take it the date went well?” Jungkook peeks his head out from the kitchen, a spoon hanging from his mouth and a jar of peanut butter in his hand (the super smooth, liquidy kind, like the weirdo he is. Who eats anything but chunky?) as you trudge your way inside his shared apartment with Yoongi and Namjoon, your old college friends who are also part of the same producer team as Jungkook, and throw yourself onto the sofa face first. You grumble something inaudibly into the cushion, but Jungkook doesn’t need to ask to know you’re probably saying some not so positive words under your breath. He holds his snack to his chest and walks over to lift your feet up, placing them on his lap and making himself comfortable.

“So, what went wrong this time?”

“He wath jmmf brrrurng.”

“Sorry, I don’t speak cave man.”

You lift your head up from the sofa and crane your neck back to glare at Jungkook, long messy curls covering half of your face and killing your intimidating factor. “I said, he was just boring.”

Jungkook makes a noise of understanding, unscrewing the lid and digging his spoon into the jar. He brings the rich cream to his mouth, smacking his lips with an obnoxious pop. “I mean, at least he wasn’t a creepy 58-year-old who lied about everything in his dating profile. Compared to that, ‘boring’ doesn’t sound half as bad.”

Giving up, you re-smush your face back into the couch cushion, mumbling some more incoherent words and phrases your parents would be shocked to hear you say.

It’s been about a month since you embarked on this journey of exploring the world of dating apps. Hari said so herself that she personally knew of four happy couples that met through dating apps and insisted that it’d be a breeze for you to find someone. So maybe it’s just you, maybe you have rotten luck, or maybe you’re just not a dating app kind of person, because Date #1 could not stop talking about himself – the only question he asked was if you were going to finish the rest of your dinner or not. Date #2 ended up being a sugar daddy type of deal, and although the figures were tempting, it just wasn’t what you were looking for. You nearly filed a restraining order against Date #3 for being way too inappropriately touchy and creepy throughout the entire date. You even had to text Jungkook to come rescue you from that whole mess and he nearly knocked that creep’s lights out for being such a sleaze bag. Date #4 was the 58-year-old who lied about his dating profile and said he was 28 when in reality, he had a daughter your age. YOUR. AGE. Date #5 was such a turn off with how rudely he treated the waiters and pretty much all the other restaurant staff – an automatic swipe left. And now Date #6.

You roll over onto your back, curls fanning out around your head. You probably look like Medusa’s ugly sister right now. “He just didn’t... talk. He was the total opposite of Date #1 who couldn’t shut up long enough to let me excuse myself to the restroom. This guy barely said anything and honestly, I don’t know what’s worse.” You mutter a quick apology to Jungkook who squeaks after you accidentally dig your heel into his thigh while ranting, hitting a spot that’s a wee bit too close to a very sensitive area for him. “I kept asking questions to try to get to know the guy, only to get one-word answers from him every time.” You indignantly point at the clock on the wall. “That’s why I’m back so early, it took like forty-five minutes tops for me to run out of patience and questions to ask.”

“Mmm, sucks.” Jungkook mumbles half-heartedly, seemingly more interested in licking the spoon completely clean. “So you basically ate tacos and talked to a wall for forty-five minutes.”

“Exactly! And the tacos weren’t even that good!” You sit up, waving around exaggerated gestures before falling back onto the couch, draping an arm over your face. “You know what, that’s it. It’s obvious these are all signs that I’m supposed to be a nun. This must be my fate, my inevitable future, and I see now that I can no longer avoid the path that has been so clearly paved for me.”

“My god woman, you are dramatic. Has anyone ever told you that?” Jungkook pokes you in the stomach with the heel of his spoon, and you to flinch from the ticklish sensation.

You peek out from under your arm, “Should’ve gone into acting, huh? Seriously, damn all my life choices, damn them all!”

Jungkook chuckles, clearly amused by your theatrics. “Maybe you should take a break from the dating apps, give the potential dating pool some time to refresh and replenish a bit or something. Or, you could actually take my advice for once and stop putting so much pressure on yourself to find a boyfriend and just roll with the punches as they come.” The look he gives you is jokingly stern, though there’s some seriousness in his tone, and it makes you sigh. Maybe Jungkook’s actually onto something, as proven by your current not-so-hot track record. The past month has been more draining than fun, and so far it’s all been for nothing. Maybe you just need to give it all a break, and give yourself a break, really. Or seriously start considering entering the convent – either one, really.

As you continue to contemplate your life choices, you watch as Jungkook brings another spoonful of PB to his lips, only to dribble a straight line of it down his precious white t-shirt. He mutters an expletive under his breath and sets the jar and spoon down on the coffee table, rubbing away at the stain with his fingers. His efforts prove to be futile when the ugly brown smudge remains and without warning, he stands up and pulls the shirt off over his head, revealing the perfectly chiseled muscles of his back and shoulders. You involuntarily gulp at the sight of his sunkissed skin and the way his muscles ripple as he moves to throw the shirt into the laundry bin.

“Yeah, maybe...you’re right…” Your breath comes out in a quiet whoosh.

It’s not like you haven’t seen Jungkook shirtless before. There was that one time you went hot tubbing on the ski trip you and your friends took in college, or the few times you had to barge into his dorm room and drag his half-naked ass out of bed so he wouldn’t be late to lecture. But Jungkook’s always been a lot more conservative than not, and he didn’t exactly have the greatest confidence back then either. He used to be absolutely mortified in those moments and would hurriedly grab at anything nearby to cover up his body. Even though so many people agreed he was one of the most handsome and sought after guys on campus, he was still so self-conscious of himself. But as he went through college, he started to become interested in exercising and eventually made the commitment to hit the gym to change not only his body, but his confidence and perception of himself as well. The Jungkook now, with his sculpted physique, lean muscles, and much larger, more dominating stature, is totally different from the skinny, insecure boy you knew back in college. With the way he built himself up over the last few years physically, mentally, and emotionally, he just oozes confidence with now, which is great, but also not so great – for you, at least.

You chastise yourself every single time, but you can’t help but ogle openly during these rare moments his sweet glory is revealed to you. It’s so wrong to look at your best friend like this, you know it is – he’s just very comfortable around you and knows it’s no big deal to walk around like the half-naked god he is because it’s just you. But it’s kind of impossible to not gawk, not when his body is practically screaming to be worshipped (and is 100% worthy of it). It’s times like these that you’re reminded he is not just the jokester and bunny boy you call your best friend – he’s a fully grown man, and just so happens to be a very physically attractive one. And with the way the sight of his mouth-watering build makes your lower stomach feel, you realize once again that you’re a grown ass woman as well – a woman who has needs.

“Hey, eyes up here, perv.” He says with his back still turned to you as he grabs a hoodie hanging on one of the kitchen chairs. “And you might wanna wipe off the drool while you’re at it.” That snaps you out of your reverie as you quickly avert your eyes and sit up clumsily on the couch, making sure to scoff loud enough for him to hear.

“For your information, the world doesn’t revolve around you and your penchant for indecency, you cocky bastard. And jokes on you, there isn’t anything worth looking at, son!” Out of the corner of your eye you see him pull on the hoodie and turn back towards you, a knowing smirk tugging on his lips.

“That’s pretty much what you say every time I catch you staring. But hey, I don’t mind having an audience.” He squeezes himself next to you, draping an arm over the back of the couch and his eyes are twinkling. “But you should either fess up that you think I’m hot or come up with some new excuses, ‘cause yours are starting to get real old, babe.”

You wrinkle your nose, ignoring the way the pet name weirdly makes your heart stutter for a second. “Don’t call me babe, you baby.”

“Baby?” He leans in, his nose just a couple of dangerous inches away from yours. “I’m only like eight months younger than you, babe.”

“Whatever, you’re still a baby to me.” You grunt, folding your arms in an attempt to maintain the very little space left between your bodies. His gaze is dark and challenging, and it alone makes the heat pooling in your lower abdomen grow. “Don’t make me bring out pictures from college, Jeon. Sit down, be humble.”

“But I’m already sitting, babe.” Jungkook remarks, his tone sarcastic.

“You know, I bet Soobin wouldn’t be happy to hear her boyfriend calls other women a name that should be reserved solely for her.” You click your tongue in disapproval, secretly relieved with being able to change the subject as you quickly brush away the lustful thoughts in your head. “How are you guys even doing, by the way? Will I ever get to meet this mystery woman? Like, she’s really not just some imaginary girlfriend you made up?”

Something flashes across Jungkook’s eyes, but it’s gone before you can determine what is, and you forget all about it when he makes a face and pushes your forehead back with his index finger, “No, I’m not you, Miss ‘I’m Park SeoJoon’s wife.’ And it’s only been like less than a month, okay, chill. I just want to make sure she fully prepared to meet the freak-shows I call my friends.”

Jungkook must’ve been inspired by your new mission to find a boyfriend or something because once you started going on dates, the man apparently decided to make his own dating profile as well, surprising pretty much everyone by his sudden jump into the game. No one even knew he was interested, and he didn’t tell anyone, not even you, that he was on the apps. But that’s how he found Soobin, this mystery girl he’s apparently been seeing for the past few weeks. She’s actually a total mystery though because he hasn’t said a peep about her and how it’s been going. He’s oddly secretive about it all, which is strange because normally he tells you everything. But not this time, even though you pry and pry and pry. For some reason he just won’t budge.

“Jeon, if she can’t handle us right now, she won’t be able to handle us period, so you might as well introduce her already.” You shrug nonchalantly. “We gotta deem her worthy or weed her out.” As his best friend, you feel the need to meet this girl and see what she’s like for yourself to make sure she’s good enough for Jungkook. It’s not your fault that you want to meet her so bad – you’re just looking out for your best friend’s well-being.  

There’s a brief moment of silence as you catch Jungkook chewing on his lower lip – a habit of his when he’s feeling nervous or unsure about something – and you immediately begin to feel concerned. Maybe you pushed too much. Seeing him like that makes you feel a little guilty for prying so much without even considering that maybe something is up.

“Hang on, is something the matter?” Worry laces your voice, a hand coming to rest on his knee, “Is there a reason why you’re not saying anything?” You search his eyes for answers, but he just shakes his head vigorously, lips tightly pursed together. “Then why won’t you tell me?”

“Yeah seriously, none of us even know what this chick looks like. Why’re you keeping her such a secret from all of us?”

You hang your head backwards over the back of the couch and see Namjoon padding into the living, carrying what you assume to be an empty coffee mug in his hand. Namjoon’s always been someone Jungkook has greatly admired. He was the one who really encouraged the younger to pursue music and follow his dreams, rather than go into business like his parents wanted him to. If there’s anyone he’ll listen to, it’s Namjoon, though you continuously pray Jungkook won’t ever adopt the older man’s horrible sleeping habits. The dark shadows under his eyes and hoarseness of his voice indicate just how tired and in need of caffeine he is from most likely another all-nighter in the studio. But then again, the big producer man always looks like he runs on nothing but caffeine and no sleep. What a life.

Still hanging upside down, you give him a small wave and a “hi-yo” to which he copies your greeting adorably, his droopy eyes lighting up slightly.

“Hyung, not you too.” Jungkook whines defeatedly, running a hand down his face, “Look, she’s no secret, okay. I just, I don’t know, I just—”

“—don’t want to scare her off, yeah I get it.” Namjoon calls over his shoulder as he scuffs his slipper-clad heels towards the coffee machine in the kitchen. “It’s a new relationship, you’re still testing the waters, and we can be a lot to handle, so I get it. And by we, I really mean ___.”

“Hey!” You protest as Namjoon starts the machine before he comes out of the kitchen and strolls towards you, affectionately ruffling your already mussed hair.

“I say that with all the love in my heart, you Tasmanian devil.”

You scowl at him. “I hope your coffee is just as bitter as I am right now.”

“Anyways,” He turns to Jungkook, ignoring your griping. “Yoongi and I just got word that Slow Rabbit’s throwing some sort of PR event this weekend. He told us to invite the whole gang and any other friends, help boost our publicity a little.” Namjoon gives the younger man a pointed look. “Basically, it’s the perfect opportunity to introduce bae, if you want to, that is.”

“Oh, this is perfect!” You jump up and clasp your hands together excitedly. “We’ll finally expose Jeon for making up some fake ass imaginary girlfriend, and maybe I’ll finally be able to mingle with some normal guys for once.” You pause, turning to Namjoon, “Your producer friends are decent guys, right?”

Namjoon gives you a wary look and a half-hearted shrug, “Uhh, sure, I guess?”

“Awesome!” You chirp, “I trust you Joonie, it’s always been you and only y-” You let out a yelp when a pair of arms grabs your waist and spins you around so that you’re falling face first onto the sofa. The hands holding you hostage begin to mercilessly poke into your sides, forcing what sounds like a combination of choked laughter and cries for help out of you.

“Fake ass imaginary girlfriend, huh?” Jungkook growls, digging his fingers deeper into your love-handles, and you immediately howl in surrender. “I’m gonna make you throw up your tacos, you wench.”

From the sideline, Namjoon just sighs at the noisy commotion playing out in front of him, shaking his head as he watches Jungkook flip you onto your back and dive for your stomach, lips curling upwards mischievously. The wide grin on your face and ringing laughter in between yelps for mercy prevent Namjoon from feeling like he actually needs to intervene and save you. He does, however, feel disappointed (but not surprised) that you both can’t even see what’s happening here. He decides to just leave you two to duke it out, quietly sighing and shuffling into the kitchen to grab his coffee.

Maybe one day.

- - - - -   

It’s the following Friday night and guess where you are?

Not at home in your pajamas watching Black Panther while eating Thai take-out that Jungkook brought, that’s for sure. The thought alone makes you so incredibly sad. Because instead, in cruel reality, you’re sitting at a table inside a very dimly lit club called the Sound Bar, which is surprisingly clean and roomy, waiting for this PR event to start already. You know this is how all the hip young adults live out their lives in the movies, but now you’re seriously beginning to regret all that complaining about wanting to go out.

A few people have arrived, and you recognize them as some of Yoongi’s friends that you don’t know too well yourself. They linger around the bar in a huddled group, sipping on beers and chatting away with the man himself, who also looks like he doesn’t particularly want to be here either. That’s because you and Yoongi know what’s up – comfort is king and living under a rock is the only way to go. The thought pulls a sigh from your lungs as you turn to scan the venue. Besides them, it looks like you and your closer group of friends make up majority of the crowd currently, but people are really starting to file in now, steadily filling up the spacious area with body heat, boisterous conversation, and a lot of different smells. It makes your nose twitch.

Strangely enough, you don’t see Jungkook and Soobin yet, and you keep craning your neck to watch the door like a hawk for their entrance. While you were getting ready with Hari hours prior, you made Jungkook double pinky swear to not bail and to actually bring Soobin so you could meet her and confirm that she’s real. (“If you don’t come, I’m actually going to spread the rumor that you have an imaginary girlfriend.” “You’re the actual spawn of Satan, I swear.”) You know he’ll come regardless – he wouldn’t just leave you hanging like this. It’s finally time to figure out why he’s keeping this girl on the hush hush, and what exactly is going on with him.

“Whoa.” A baritone voice brings you out of your thoughts. Swiveling around, you see Taehyung gaping openly at you, a hand covering his mouth. “Seriously, like whoaaa.”

You scrunch your nose. “Tae, don’t even start – you’re literally so embarrassing.”

“Hey, if Hari is your number one hype woman, then I’m your number one hype man, okay, just let me be!” He stretches his arms out towards you as if he’s showing off an award, holding up jazz hands and everything. “Just look at you, queen! My baby Hari did such a great job, you look like a total hoochie mama!”

Your cheeks burn a scarlet red. “Oh good, because it was totally my goal to look like a hoochie mama. Thanks Tae.” Now you also regret letting Hari squeeze you into this skimpy black two-piece set. It was a bad idea from the start, but Taehyung’s reaction just confirms it. The short noodle strap crop top tightly hugs your bust and shows off more of your midriff than you would ever prefer. You keep wanting to cover it up with your arms out of reflex. But luckily the shorts are comfortable, though a bit short for your liking. Your hair flows down in beachy waves and a deep burgundy tints your lips, and the silver dollar-coin sized hoops hanging off your ear lobes are over the top in your opinion, but Hari threatened you to wear them out, insisting the outfit wouldn’t be complete without them. If anything, it’s Hari’s fault you apparently look like a hoochie mama.

“No problem!” Taehyung grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. He catches whiff of your unhappy demeanor and nudges you playfully, his expression softening. “Aw, c’mon ­­­__, lighten up a little! You look hot, seriously.” He pulls away to examine the state you’re in. “Do you need a drink? Actually yeah, you definitely do. I’m going to get you one.” Taehyung spins around on the stool to head to the bar, only for a hand to clamp down on his shoulder, stopping him mid-spin. Your eyes drift to the side and you’re surprised to see Jungkook giving his friend a silent but very clear warning, tilting his head intimidatingly. “No, I’ll go get ­it. God knows how many types of alcohol you’ll ask Hoseok hyung to mix into her drink. Then you’ll be responsible for dealing with the mess afterwards.”

Glaring at Taehyung’s sheepish smile, Jungkook’s slate eyes land on you and immediately widen, his jaw going slack when he sees the little (emphasis on little) black number you’re wearing. It’s probably because he’s so used to you wearing only leggings and oversized shirts and hoodies all the time that seeing you like this is a shock. That’s certainly how you felt looking at your reflection in the mirror at home. But you can’t help but shift uncomfortably in your seat, suddenly feeling the need to cross a leg over the other and place your purse strategically over your midriff from his gaze alone. Seconds, minutes, hours could be passing by but his glare doesn’t falter one bit. It’s almost seems like he’s angry or something but it’s also not quite that – you can’t seem to put your finger on it. Fortunately, the lights are dimmed low, and you just hope it’s dark enough to hide the blush that’s suddenly crawling up your neck from the way Jungkook keeps staring. At this rate he’s going to end up burning a hole straight through you.

“Doesn’t she look smoking?” Taehyung whistles low, giving his friend a nudge to the ribs. He barely moves and just continues keep his eyes glued on you.

“Hari did this?” Jungkook ignores him, finally speaking up after a few tense moments. His voice sounds much deeper than normal.

“Yeah,” You squeak awkwardly, looking away from his heavy gaze. What’s his deal? “So uh, where’s Soobin?” You try to change the subject, clearing your throat slightly and pretending to look around for this girl you don’t even know. You think it works, but then Jungkook catches you off guard by suddenly shrugging off his jean jacket and reaching around to drape it over your shoulders, the denim fabric engulfing your figure. It automatically feels a lot stuffier and ten degrees warmer, but you’re not sure if it’s because of the jacket or because of Jungkook’s unrelenting glower. You suddenly feel jittery.

“Dude, I could use this later when I’m drunk and cold and waiting for an Uber, not when it’s like a bajillion degrees inside.” You joke as you jump down from the stool and move to take the jacket off, only for his hands to keep it firmly in place on your shoulders. You look up at the man towering over you and have to consciously keep yourself from physically cowering away. Jungkook looks pissed. But for what reason, you have no clue. He just looks annoyed beyond reason, and not like when you normally mess with him and call him a fatty or something. It’s different, and it’s intimidating enough to make you swallow your pride and obey his next words.

“Keep it on.”

He lingers for a moment longer before dropping his arms and stalking off, disappearing among the crowd that has grown significantly in the last ten minutes, probably to go find Soobin. What’s disturbing is how your chest rises and falls rapidly, your heart hammering against your rib cage like a trapped bird that wants to be let out. You have no idea what the hell just happened here. It’s not like Jungkook to ever despise your outfits, let alone even care about what you wear in general. Maybe he fought with Soobin on the way here and is in a bad mood? Or worse, maybe you did something to upset him without realizing it. You shake your head as if to brush aside all the conflicting thoughts, and pinch the bridge of your nose. Yeah, you do need a drink, pronto.

At the bar you order a vodka-cran and send a weak smile to the bartender Hoseok, who’s a friend of Namjoon’s and an acquaintance of yours, requesting for him to make the drink a bit stronger than normal. He smiles back and doesn’t question your request, immediately whisking away to make your order. You would hug the man if you could, God knows how much you need a nice strong drink right now.

“___!” You hear Hari giggle and she plops down on the stool next to yours, looking very giddy and flushed in the face – a tell-tale sign that she’s had a few drinks already. At least someone’s having a good time. “Where’d you get the jacket? I kind of like the addition, it’s a bit grungy but in like a sexy, hipster way, you know?”

Remembering what happened with Jungkook, the jacket suddenly feels twenty pounds heavier as you shift it around awkwardly on your shoulders. “Uhh yeah, Jungkook gave it to me ‘cause, uh, I was cold.” Yeah, that’s why he acted the way he did. He was just angry because you might be cold…because that totally makes sense. You sigh inwardly.

“I don’t know about cold, it feels like a hundred degrees in here.” A voice chimes in, making you and Hari turn your heads simultaneously to the right. Dressed casually in a white button-down shirt that’s rolled up loosely at the elbows, a man sits on the bar stool to your right, sporting short jet-black hair, thick but neatly groomed eyebrows, a small, polite smile, and these beautiful obsidian eyes that are currently locked in on yours. Even though he’s sitting, you can tell he’s literally the definition of tall, dark and handsome, enough so to make you wonder why the hell he’s talking to you.

“Oh yeah, it’s like a god-awful sauna in here. In fact, let me go tell Joon, maybe he can get someone to crank up the AC or something.” Hari hurriedly blurts out, jumping from her stool with a knowing twinkle in her eye. She gives your arm a quick squeeze, a silent “good luck!” before taking off, making sure to look back at you every other step of the way. Very subtle.

Just before an awkward silence can ensue, Hoseok comes by to deliver your drink, which you immediately grab and begin to chug hastily, all the while silently praying this guy won’t end up being dud #7. Even if he does, you’re still going to need all the alcohol you can get to survive the rest of the night, what with Jungkook acting all weird, not having even met Soobin yet, or not having mingled with other people yet. The glass still at your lips, the thought causes you to wave your hand in a haphazard signal to Hoseok for another vodka-cran.

“Bit thirsty, aren’t we now?” Damn. Tipping back the last bits, you set the glass down and take in a deep breath, alcohol steadily dissolving in your blood as you ready yourself for whatever is to come. “Ha-ha, yeah,” You croak awkwardly, fidgeting with the glass, “just needed to cool down, ‘cause you know, it’s so hot.”

“Didn’t you just say you were cold?”

You glance down at the light acid wash jacket and momentarily shut your eyes in regret. If it was humanly possibly, you’d kick yourself in the shin for sounding so stupid right off the bat.

“This,” You open your eyes after re-composing yourself and put on a one-hundred-watt smile, “is merely a fashion statement. I was going for the grungy, sexy, hipster look, that’s all.”

“Ah, right, like your friend just said.”

You bite your lip. Okay, it’s official – you fucked up. You should just get up and walk away right now. Save some face and talk to someone else before this gets any more humiliating than it already is. You decide that this can’t go for much longer or else you’ll literally die and wither away from embarrassment. A goodbye is already on your lips and your legs itch to make a run for it when the guy suddenly starts to laugh, his shoulders shaking, while wearing a grin that undoubtedly looks really good on him.

“Wow, alright then.” Looking positively amused, he stretches a hand out to you. “Hi, I’m YoungHo.”

“And you think I’m totally bizarre.” You mumble back, wanting nothing more than to crawl under a rock and die. But YoungHo shakes his head, letting go of his drink to wave his hands at you as well.

“No I don’t, really.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, causing him to cock his head to the side, a lopsided smile on his face.

“I just think you’re kinda… quirky?”

“Oh God, you might as well tell me to go join the Ripley’s Believe It or Not crew.” You groan, propping your elbows on the bar and burying your face into your hands. He’s just being nice and trying to make light conversation and here you are looking like a total buffoon with half a brain cell left. There’s just no way he doesn’t think you’re at least a little insane. Your cheeks feel like burning pieces of coal, the heat effectively setting the rest of your face ablaze along with them.

He laughs again, the sound so deep and rich and honestly quite pleasant to listen to. But sensing your mortification, he quickly begins to cough, clearing his throat to rid of the laughter.

“You know,” He continues, seemingly more composed now, but a smile still twinkles in his eyes, “I used to not be able to understand why people would go see shows like that. They just didn’t seem all that appealing to me. But then I watched The Greatest Showman and man, it totally changed my views. Now I’m dying to go see a show.”

Your ears perk up after hearing the name of one of your favorite movies and you lift your head from your hands, the embarrassment slowly starting to fade away. “Isn’t that movie just amazing? And I totally get what you mean, I wasn’t a huge fan of stuff like that before but now I’m just waiting for something like Ripley’s to come to town so I can snag tickets and reminisce.”

He hums in agreement, “It also hands down has the best soundtrack out there. I think it’s definitely up there with the Lion King and Hamilton.”

You rest your chin on the palm of your hand, your muscles starting to relax a little bit now. “Hamilton tickets are seriously impossible to get. You’ll never guess how many email accounts I made just to try and win lottery tickets.”

“How many?”

“Eleven.”

“Get out of here.”

“No, seriously!”

Before you know it, more drinks are being poured and the conversation is taking off with its new set of wings, all embarrassment now left in the dust of the past. You two continue to chat about movies, which leads to talking about hobbies, favorite places in the city, the best pizza parlor in town (it might just be the alcohol or you’re just really that passionate about your pizza opinions because you two even end up getting into a very heated debate about thin crust versus deep dish). You’re honestly surprised by how natural it feels. Time flies through bouts of laughter and light conversation, and it all ends up being so much easier than you originally thought it’d be. And, this guy has yet to prove himself to be a dud yet. He’s actually very nice – attentive, funny, finds you funny. No joke, the man seems to really enjoy laughing at you. But he assures you that he’s not laughing at you – he’s just laughing at your antics, the peculiar things you say, the never-ending sass tank you’ve got fully loaded and on hand at all times.

At one point when you slam your fist down and insist that deep dish pizza is the only way to go, he tells you to prove it, smoothly asking you out on a pizza date so you two can compare thin crust and deep dish. You almost can’t believe it when he hands your phone back to you, “YoungHo :)” and a phone number illuminating on the bright screen. Things actually seem to be working out for once – you might’ve actually found a normal match!

Two hours of drinks and conversation breezes by before YoungHo tells you he needs to run to the restroom. “Watch my drink?” He smiles, a hand gently resting on the small of your upper back. You nod more furiously than you anticipated, but he doesn’t seem to notice and thanks you, turning to squeeze his way through the crowd.

It feels great to know that things seem to finally be looking up, you would cry if it wasn’t for the fear of ruining Hari’s wonderfully done make up. You do figuratively pat yourself on the back, though. You really did your drunk, 26-year-old self some good by putting yourself out there like this.

YoungHo seems like a decent guy, really. But in the short time you spent getting to know him, you still made sure Hoseok just kept the drinks coming, because no matter how nice of a conversation it was, you were still a little nervous the entire time. With your luck and current track record, things could go wrong at any time, so you needed the help of your good friend alcohol to get you to loosen you up a bit. But it’s only now that you’ve let your guard down a little that the effects of the drinks seem to really be kicking in full force. Only now is the room is starting to spin, your head feeling a lot fuller and fuzzier than before. You swirl Youngho’s whisky glass absentmindedly, sleepily observing the ice spin round and round at the bottom, the motion soothing, almost hypnotizing. If you keep doing this you might actually be able to put yourself to slee-

“You hanging in there alright?”

You startle from your drowsy haze, eyes uncoordinatedly searching for a bit before finally landing on a familiar figure to your right. It’s not YoungHo – this time, it’s a much more familiar person.

“Jeon-bun!” You excitedly coo, cupping your chin with your hands and leaning forward on your elbows to get closer to your best friend, who plops down on the seat next to you. You blink lethargically several times, a dopey grin hanging on your lips. “Why isn’t it my favorite boy, my baby, my love child, my little tulip.”

Jungkook whips his head toward you, the once stoic look on his face now morphed into one of bewilderment. “Tulip? Love child? What the actual- how many drinks have you had?”

“Psh,” You wave a hand carelessly at him, “Like, Monday.”

“Shit, this is bad.” Jungkook groans, carding a hand through his hair. “Monday’s not a number, stupid.”

“Oh, I meant seven, seeeevvveeeen, hehehehehe.”

You’d argue you can handle your alcohol pretty well, with six or seven drinks being your limit. But then again, it’s not like you remember much after having that many drinks, so you can’t really say for sure. According to Jungkook who’s witnessed and endured majority of your drunk episodes with you, that is definitely not the case, but what does he know?

You watch as he squeezes his eyes shut, as if pained about something, and the sight makes you frown. You don’t like seeing your Jungkookie sad, mad, upset or frustrated about anything. Not on your watch.

“HEY!” You shout, startling some people nearby as you press your index fingers onto the corners of his lips, pushing them up until they form a constipated looking smile. “No frowning allowed, nuh uh. My love child is not allowed to be sad. You’re ugly when you’re sad.”

“Oh gee thanks, real confidence booster.”

You let go and pinch his cheeks before letting your arms drop, swaying your head as you hum along to the music that’s playing. You recognize it to be one of Namjoon’s original songs from one of his mixtapes, and it also happens to be one of your favorites, the tune upbeat and catchy. It just serves to lift your drunk spirits even higher. 

“YoungHo’s great, did I tell you that?” You suddenly announce. Eyes closed, you continue to hum as you wait for Jungkook to respond. It feels like it takes longer than usual for him to respond to you, but that could just be you and your impaired sense of time. But he eventually answers, his voice low and even.

“The guy you’ve been talking to all night, his name’s YoungHo, huh.” 

You bob your head up and down, “Yeah, he likes pizza. And I think he likes me. Actually I don’t know yet, we’re gonna go get pizza next week so I’ll find out then.” You giggle, turning from side to side on the bar stool. Sighing happily, you suddenly swivel around to face Jungkook, knees bumping up against his. He flinches at the sudden contact.

“Jungkook-ah.”

“What.”

“I’m so happy.” You sigh again, staring off into space with a dreamy look on your face, not noticing the way Jungkook tenses up, gripping the beer bottle in his hand.

“That so? How come?” He says calmly, though his body reacts in the complete opposite manner. He nervously taps his fingers along the glass of the bottle and bites down on his lower lip, worrying the flesh between his teeth. But you don’t pay attention to it, his actions cloaked by the drunken spell that’s been casted over you.

“Because,” You tilt your head to the side, giving him an even more wistful smile, “pizza exists, Fat Fridays are the best, I finally met a guy who isn’t 58 or a total creep, I have the most amazing friends, and an even more incredible best friend and I love you, Jungkook.” A hiccup mixed with a chuckle escapes you. “I love you, best friend. You know I wouldn’t be able to do life with you, right?”

On a regular night out, drunk you includes the following: increases in smiling frequency, steadily rising volume of laughter, increasing amounts of shouting and passionate declarations, ensuing of blabbering nonsense, and finally, sleepy sappiness to end the night. Basically alcohol brings out your normal personality and amplifies it a few thousand times. Normally, Jungkook’s used to experiencing all your drunk symptoms and isn’t even phased by all the cheesy sap or ridiculousness that tends to spew from your lips. But this time your words hit differently – they strike his bones from an angle he wasn’t prepared to take a blow from. It causes him to swallow past a lump in his throat, and he quickly takes a swig of his beer to help force it down.

“Thought you said you were tired of Fat Fridays, said they made you feel like a retired grandma.” He manages to get out, eyes flitting around nervously.

You place a hand to your chest in feigned offense, “Who, me? I would never say such a thing, Fat Fridays are a blessing from above.” Reaching over, you give Jungkook’s hand a friendly squeeze, his eyes focused on where your hand lies. “I’m just saying that things are perfect the way they are right now, okay. YoungHo and I are getting married, you and I will keep the Fat Friday tradition alive, and everything will be happy and wonderful for the rest of our lives.”

“Married?!” Jungkook nearly spits out the sip of beer he had just taken and chokes back on a cough. “I think you need to take like eighty-six steps back and stop jumping to conclusions for a second, ___.” He scoffs in disbelief, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “You barely even know the guy.”

“I know enough about him, trust me.” You drunkenly wave his judgment away. “Anyways, where’s Soobin? You did bring her, right? I want to meet her already, you asshole!”

Jungkook sighs and fights the urge to roll his eyes, even as you give his arm a spiteful pinch. “Calm down, she’s using the restroom. I’ll introduce her once she gets ba-”

“I’m here, babe.”

At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, your eyes shoot open. You immediately spin around and hop off the bar stool, steadying yourself on the seat cushion once your feet hit the ground because apparently alcohol has the power to turn your legs into jelly. You squint a little in an attempt to get your vision to focus. Through the drunken fog, you’re able to make out a set of cat-like eyes, pink thinly pursed lips, a cascade of perfect ringlets of caramel curls, and a tight blue body-con dress hugging a slim, petite figure. This must be her, this must be-

“Soobin!” You squeal elatedly, taking the girl’s hands into yours, proceeding to shake them up and down furiously. “It’s soooo nice to finally meet you.” You let go of one hand to jerk a thumb at Jungkook. “This asshat’s been keeping us in the dark for so long when it comes to you, so I’m so happy to finally be able to meet you!”

You look back and forth between Jungkook and Soobin like an overly excited puppy that needs to pee. But you can’t help it, you’re finally meeting the girl that Jungkook has deemed worthy of his affections, so of course it’s a huge moment for you, for all of you. Best friend meets girlfriend, girlfriend meets best friend. It does makes you feel a little weird though, seeing the person who is apparently his girlfriend stand by his side. Whatever this feeling is, it’s definitely…foreign. But you’re too caught up in the excitement to really care – you just hope it’s a moment you won’t forget because of your frenemy Mr. Vodka-Cran. Screw him.

“Um, hi, it’s nice to meet you too.” The girl says uneasily, leaning a bit closer to Jungkook. “You must be ___.”

Your jaw drops open unattractively as you jab a finger at your own chest. “You know who I am?!”

“Jungkook talks about you a lot.” Soobin states matter-of-factly, her demeanor cool and calm – almost too cool and calm. You feel the need to introduce her to Mr. Vodka-Cran.

“Aw, does he really now?” You affectionately pat Jungkook on the cheek, who rolls his eyes when you coo at him. “I’m his best friend – actually, the best friend he could ever ask for – so I’m not surprised. But still happy to hear it.” You focus your attention back on Soobin, your eyes sparkling. “So, tell me about yourself! How did you and Jungkook meet? Oh wait, silly me, I already know you met on Tinder, duh! What I meant to say is, how’s it going? Are you guys happy together?” You suddenly gasp, “Are you guys going to get married?! Oh my gosh, congratulations! I can’t wait to tell the others-”

The rest of your words come out as a muffled, unintelligible mess from behind Jungkook’s hand. He knows better than to let the “blabbing nonsense” stage get any worse. It takes you an extra long second to register what’s happening but when you finally do, you give him a repulsed look before licking his palm in revenge, causing him to draw his hand back reflexively.

“O-kay, I think that’s enough ‘getting to know each other’ time.” He cringes, wiping the spit off on his dark denim jeans. “Uh, so yeah, ___ this is Soobin, Soobin this is ___.” He turns to Soobin, looking apologetic, “Sorry you have to meet ___ when she’s butt-drunk like this. Normally she’s a little off her rocker but I swear she’s not this crazy all the time.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Well that’s kind of a bummer to hear.”

Cheeks flushed, you whirl around and are greeted by another one of YoungHo’s amused smiles and he leisurely strides over to where you guys are standing. It feels like he’s been gone for forever; you nearly forgot about him for a second there. You wonder if he was really in the bathroom for that long or if alcohol just slows time down that much.

“YoungHo,” You beam, raising a hand up in salutation, before directing it towards the couple beside you, “this is my best friend and pet bunny, Jungkook. And this,” you gesture towards Soobin, “is his girlfriend Soobin! Aren’t they just precious?”

YoungHo bites his lips to hold back a bout of laughter, obviously having not expected your level of inebriety to increase this much in the few minutes he was gone. But he lets his manners go ahead of him, extending a hand out to Jungkook. “Pleasure’s mine, I’m YoungHo, a… new friend of ___’s.”

Jungkook stares at the man’s hand like it’s his first time seeing a hand and he doesn’t quite know what to do with it. He stills, the booming music and surrounding chattering conversations blurring together messily in the background. You may be far from sober, but even you can feel the palpable awkwardness, and you frantically wonder why he’s just letting this stretch of silence pass on by without saying anything. It’s so awkward, YoungHo’s expression starts to shift into an uncomfortable one, his outstretched hand wavering slightly. Your eyes quickly flicker to Soobin, who looks just as puzzled as you feel, and out of anxious discomfort you inwardly start to chant you shake it, you dimwit, shake it!

After a few more excruciating moments of tension, the man seems to finally figure out how to operate his own hand and takes YoungHo’s into his, the handshake looking really firm – almost painfully firm. But at least he finally shook his damn hand and put all of you out of your collective awkward misery.

From beneath slightly narrowed eyes, Jungkook makes silent eye contact with YoungHo before he mutters a greeting and briskly lets go, shoving his hand into his pocket. You remind yourself to give Jungkook a lesson on basic manners after this night is finally over with.

“Allllllrighty then!” You chirp, clapping your hands together to break up the strange atmosphere. “Friends, girlfriends, tulips – everyone’s been introduced. This calls for celebration! And more alcohol!” In your trek back towards the bar, you somehow manage to trip over your own foot, gravity pulling your body forward in a sudden jerk that has you falling towards the gleaming wood surface. But luckily a hand, no, two hands grab your arms and quickly hoist you up, your eyes rolling around dizzily in your head from all the movement. Blinking in a daze, you turn to your left and right and see Jungkook and YoungHo holding onto you, wearing similarly concerned expressions on their faces.

“Well thank god I have the two of you to save me from banging up my face, haha!” A hiccup leaves your lips, but soon turns into a giddy giggle, followed by more hiccups. At this point, you don’t have enough sober left in you to even think about feeling embarrassed. You just grin stupidly, happy as can be.  

“Okay, no more drinks for you. I think it’s time to go home.” Jungkook enforces sternly, pulling you away from the bar and consequently out of YoungHo’s grip as well. The event must really be taking off now because it’s much more difficult to hear his voice over the pulsating bass and rowdy cheering than before. In the distance you see a circle of people cheering on a group of break dancers who are spinning around on the floor and showing off their fancy, intricate dance moves. More and more people are squeezed onto the dance floor now, swaying their bodies to the music in one massive clump of body heat and sweat, the beat and blanket of intoxication fully taking control of the atmosphere. There’s just no way you’re can leave now, not when the party’s just getting started.

“No.” Jungkook says scoldingly, reading your mind before you can even think of protesting. “I already know what you’re thinking. Trust me, you’re gonna thank me tomorrow when you get a full night’s sleep and your hangover is ten times better than it would’ve been.”

“But Jeonnie,” You whine unapologetically, giving him an annoyed pout. “Just because you want to go home doesn’t mean I want to go home yet. Some of us just want to live our lives, you party pooper!” You swing your hand at his chest but completely miss, stumbling forward when you hit nothing but air. This time YoungHo is quicker to react and his hands are on your waist before you even realize you’re falling, his grip steadying you on your feet.

“Actually, I think that might be a good idea, ___.” YoungHo agrees gently, trying hard not to smile at your sulky frown that just grows larger and cuter by the second. “Might be a good time to call it a night, gotta keep you from breaking an arm or something. Come on, I’ll give you a ride home.” In your drunk stupor, you still get startled when Jungkook suddenly steps forward, wearing an expression you don’t think you’ve ever seen on him before.

“No it’s all good, I’ll take her home.” Though he stands tall, his words come out in a nervous rush. The nervousness in his voice sounds so unlike him, so uncharacteristic of him. He must realize how hasty he sounded because he’s suddenly scratching the back of his neck, eyes flitting around awkwardly. “I mean, I’ve taken care of her drunk self plenty of times in the past, so I’m used to it. She can just be a real beast to deal with once the alcohol fully hits.”

Your face twists in offense, “Uh, excuse you Mr. Jeon-balaya-”

“No really, it’s fine,” YoungHo cuts in, stepping forward as well to match Jungkook’s stance. “I don’t mind at all. I’m completely sobered up and my car’s parked right up front. Besides,” he eyes Soobin who’s been standing there all along, quiet as a mouse, before shifting back to Jungkook, “you should take care of your girlfriend, no?”

Maybe it’s just your eyes playing tricks on you, but you swear you see Jungkook’s hands ball up into fists at his side. He looks ticked, again, just like earlier when he first saw your outfit. But at the same time, your best friend, whom you can usually read like a book, faces the other man completely stone-faced, blank of any real emotion, and truthfully it comes across as a bit scary. This night just gets stranger and stranger by the minute. 

You think the unbearable awkward tension is back, but this time you can’t really tell for sure. They continue to stare at each other like there’s some sort of show down to be had, and it soon becomes too much for your inebriated brain to comprehend. All you know for sure is that just as Jungkook predicted, the alcohol is really starting to hit you now. You know you’re standing still but it feels like the world is tipping sideways on its axis just to throw you off balance. The strong bass hammers in your ear and shakes you from the inside out in a way that makes your stomach churn uneasily, like Mr. Vodka-Cran is about to take his revenge on you. For the first time that night, you agree with the both of them – maybe it is time to go home.

“Jungkook,” Soobin suddenly speaks up after not having said a single word in the last ten minutes, “just let the man take her home. You were planning on staying at my place tonight anyway, no?” You bring a hand to your head as if it’ll help alleviate the headache that’s starting to pound away at your skull. Why does Soobin sound upset too? Did you do something wrong? What the hell is going on? Where are your goddamn pajamas ‘cause you really need to pass the fuck out ASAP.

Sensing your growing discomfort, YoungHo reaches for your purse on the bar stool and slings it over your shoulder, looking down at you worriedly. “_­__­ really doesn’t look too good, I think we should head out. I’ll let her friend know we’re leaving, and I’ll be sure to get her home safe. It was nice meeting you both.” With a hand on the small of your back, he leads you away from a shell-shocked Jungkook and an equally upset-looking Soobin, moving forward through the hordes of people, not letting you turn back to look even once. You just hope all of this, whatever this was, will be cleared up by morning.  

- - - - -   

Things aren’t the same after that night at the Sound Bar.

Thankfully, you wake up the next day alone and in your own bed, the other half of it empty and fortunately unoccupied. You end up nursing a nasty hangover for the next two days after that night, your recovery weekend filled with lots of pedialyte, tylenol, and soup to keep your poor stomach at bay. It’s frustrating because no matter how hard you try to remember, that night is just one big drunken blur in your memory. Luckily Hari, who had been nearby at the time and witnessed it all go down, helps fill you in on everything that happened. You immediately spam Jungkook’s phone afterwards with apology texts, asking him to deliver your sincerest apologies to Soobin as well for being so rude and insane that night (you swear to never talk to Mr. Vodka-Cran ever again, that bastard). But strangely, there’s no reply. You vaguely remember him saying he was going to spend the night at Soobin’s place, so you figure he’s just busy spending his weekend with her. It’s no big deal, he’ll get back to you in a few days and things will soon be all settled and forgiven.

He eventually texts back to tell you it’s fine, but that he’s got a busy week ahead of him. The deadline for his demos are coming up, and apparently he’s super far behind and has a ton of shit to catch up on. You were hoping he’d be free so you’d be able to at least apologize to him one more time, in person. But you don’t get to see him, and Fat Friday doesn’t happen that week. Again, not the end of the world. He’s an adult, he’s got adult responsibilities to take care of, and it’s totally normal to not see your friend’s face for a week. Well, not normal for you, but you figure it’s normal in general.

The following week, Jungkook says he’s still swamped with work. You tell him you’ll go to his place to keep him some company in his misery, promising not to distract him too much and even offering to bring take-out, which happens maybe once in a blue moon. But he declines your offer (he says no to take-out!) and insists he really needs to be alone and concentrate. Though his rejection leaves a slight sting, his reasons are understandable – the producer life isn’t an easy one and knowing how much of a perfectionist Jungkook is, that life is probably just that much more difficult for him. It’s a very reasonable excuse.

Before you know it, two weeks go by, and it’s onto week three. His text replies are becoming sparse and each successive one sounds less and less like him. His apologies are half-hearted at best and he repeatedly blames it on the stress he was dealing with. But he says the demos are finally in, and that he’s free for the next few weeks before he starts up on another project. You ignore the fact that he’s been acting off, your desire to see your best friend trumping his unusual behavior, and text him to get his “fat ass ready for wings and some Thor action, cuz it’s Fat Friday baby!” hoping deep down inside that he won’t turn you down again this week. But to your utter shock, he does, this time with the excuse of needing to tend to his very neglected girlfriend. Another slap of rejection. But it makes sense that if he didn’t have any time for his own girlfriend, then he definitely didn’t have time for you. Of course he’d want to spend quality time with her to make up for the time he was gone. Of course.

So in those three rather empty weeks, you fill your time in other ways. The day after meeting at the Sound Bar, YoungHo texts you to set up your pizza date. Instead of lounging around at home like you normally do with some superhero movie on Netflix and Jungkook hogging up majority of the sofa with his body, you spend the evening going to two different pizza places with YoungHo. It ends up being a nice first date, one which concludes with you reluctantly admitting that thin crust is actually pretty bomb too (but you still pledge your loyalty to deep dish forever). The conversation still flows nicely with him as you both continue to get to know more about one another. Turns out, YoungHo’s a friend of a friend of Namjoon’s and works as some fancy business manager for some even fancier big-shot business company in the city. Strangely enough, this new tidbit of information makes you instantly think of Jungkook, who in his college days, once passionately declared he’d rather die than be stuck at a boring office job for the rest of his life. He sure is a man of his word, seeing how he kept to it and now is doing what he truly loves to do – producing and making music.

The second week, YoungHo surprises you by taking you to see Hamilton, the musical. Apparently, his company offers discount prices on certain events like musicals, and he managed to get seats in the orchestra pit for dirt cheap. He was worried it’d be too fancy and serious for the third date, but you’re just thrilled that you finally get to see the musical in real life, rather than just listening to the soundtrack on Spotify on repeat and creating an imaginary musical inside your head. The show ends up being even more amazing than you could ever describe with words. The songs, the dialogue, the characters – it’s a night that will be forever embedded in your memories. You know you just have to take Jungkook to see it the next time the Hamilton crew is back in town – you know he would love it just as much as you did.

The third week you offer to make YoungHo dinner at your apartment for date five, to change things up a little. He’s been so generous and proactive with planning all the previous dates, you feel like it’s the least you can do to show some effort on your part. So you invite him over and prepare a fancy steak and roasted vegetable dinner that you copped off a Tasty recipe. After dinner, you turn on the Hamilton soundtrack as YoungHo pours out two glasses of wine and continues the conversation about favorite childhood memories. He sits up properly on the sofa, one leg crossed over the other as he animatedly reminisces about the time he accidentally called the fire department thinking he was calling his mom. You smile and nod at his story and make sure to laugh at the right times, but for some reason, you can’t help but think about how he’s sitting. It’s an odd thought to have, but it bothers you throughout the night – it just looks too proper, too upright. If Jungkook were here, you think, he’d be sprawled out all over your couch, legs and arms hanging over the edges and you’d have to shove him off or prop his feet up on your lap just so you could sit. Then you’d make a comment about his feet smelling like a dead animal and he’d pounce on you and tickle you until you’re breathless and admitting surrender. But that’s if Jungkook were here. He hasn’t been here in weeks.

The days, hours, and minutes, crawl by at a snail pace until it’s finally week four since you’ve seen Jungkook. Now, there’s just – nothing. No legit or even half-assed excuses to explain for his prolonged absence. It seems like he’s even given up replying to your texts, seeing as though you were left on read three days ago.

You start to think that maybe this is just what it feels like to grow up. That adult friendships are just starkly different from younger ones, where you have all the care-free time in the world to hang out and talk and do nothing together. Maybe this is how adult friends end up becoming more distant from each other. Life starts to demand too much, significant others are put at the higher end of the priority list, and something has to suffer for the new change in the hierarchy. If that’s the case and that’s what this is, then you conclude that being an adult sucks, and you want no part of it anymore.

You don’t even realize you’re lost in your own thoughts until YoungHo says your name, snapping you out of it and back to reality. He was in the middle of explaining what was going on in the baseball game you two were watching at his place when you started to space out, traveling down the sad, dark rabbit hole you hate to admit you’ve kind of been living in for the past month. Now that your head is out of the clouds, you wince at the sight of the baseball game on the TV. Jungkook loves baseball. You wonder if he’s out there somewhere watching this game too.

The TV suddenly goes black. Youngho’s hand lowers the remote control onto the coffee table before he turns to you, one leg crossed over the only, polite and proper as usual. You can already tell by the look on his face that he has a question on his lips, ready to fire away.

“What’s been going on with you lately, ___?”

You blink a couple of times, not liking where this conversation is going. “What do you mean? Nothing’s up.” Even you don’t think your words sound convincing to your own ears.

YoungHo sighs. “These past few dates, I’ve caught you staring off into space multiple times, looking so sad and out of it.” He furrows his brows in concern. “Do you not even realize it yourself?”

You bite your lower lip. You know you’ve been feeling a bit gloomy and really out of it these last few weeks, you just didn’t realize you were blanking out that often – especially in front of YoungHo. And even if you were, you thought you were at least hiding it well. Guess not.

“Alright,” He shifts to sit closer to you, folding his hands in his lap, “Tell me what’s really going on.”

You almost laugh at that because frankly, you don’t know what’s going on yourself. Work’s been the same, you’ve been sleeping alright – not as soundly as normal but getting enough to function – and maybe your diet has been a little cleaner now that you haven’t had any greasy take-out food for the last month, but honestly that’s the biggest recent change you can think of – Jungkook’s absence. Just the thought of him makes your heart twinge. You miss Jungkook’s stupid face so much, the thought of him and his stupid voice and his stupid comments and his stupid presence have had you tossing and turning at night for the past few weeks. Every time your phone rings, every time you crave take-out or come home from work and just want to pass out on the sofa with a movie, you automatically think of him and wonder how he’s doing, if he’s doing okay, if he got enough sleep while pulling his hair out over deadlines – you wonder if he even remembers you exist anymore.

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut momentarily to block out the pain. “I- I really don’t know, honest.” You admit the half of the truth, because you really aren’ts sure what to make of these thoughts and feelings you have for your best friend yourself. But it’s like YoungHo can read your mind, or maybe, you’re just that easy to read.

“It’s Jungkook, isn’t it?”

Shocked, you look up at him, lips parted to match your expression. “W-what?”

“___, you can’t fool me.” YoungHo sighs again, looking obviously frustrated, but he somehow manages to maintain a level tone, and his eyes look gentle as ever. “Ever since our first date, you haven’t been able to stop talking about him. Jungkook this, Jungkook that – it was never ending. I know you two are best friends and all, but honestly I was shocked when all you would do is talk about your male best friend ninety-five percent of the time even while on a date with another man.” He pauses for a moment, his gaze softening. “Not to mention you just look so down nowadays, I figured it must have something to do with him.”

Your eyes are still saucer-wide as YoungHo searches them carefully, his expression sullen. The way he does it is scarily similar to how Jungkook does it. Maybe this whole time you were wrong and Jungkook was actually the one who could always read you like a book, and not the other way around. But like your best friend, YoungHo seems to find whatever answer he needs as he inhales, the sound a bit shaky, as if to compose himself for what he’s about to say next.

“You love him, don’t you?”

It’s more of a statement than it is a question. In fact, the way he says it makes it sound like it’s so obvious, like hey the sky is blue, dogs are cute, you love Jungkook. It rolls off the tip of his tongue like a cold, hard fact rather than just a mere hypothesis that needs further testing. It shakes you at your core and makes your head spin, and the confusion is simply overwhelming.

It is an obvious fact that you love Jungkook – he’s your best friend, the one who’s been by your side for so many years now and knows you better than anyone else, even more than Hari or your own parents. He knows what makes you tick, and then he knows what really makes you tick and goes the extra length to make sure no one ever gets to that point with you, including himself. He always knows just the words to say to comfort you, or just the joke to crack to lighten up the mood and make you smile. Without fail he’s like your giant Care Bear, just maybe less fuzzy wuzzy up front. He’s dealt with drunk you, post-break-up-crying-over-ice-cream-you, low self confidence you, lost in life you, all the parts of you that you didn’t even want to bother with – Jungkook embraced them all. He’s been the most stable constant in your life. Yet in the past, you never really considered him in a romantic way, mostly due to the awkward start you two had and how long it took to get over that hill. And even after you did, then you started dating your college boyfriend. There was no time to even think about looking at him in that way – so you never did.

But YoungHo’s words ring unmistakably loud and clear in your ears, and suddenly there’s so much pulling and pushing of your emotions happening all at once. It’s like the boulder of sorrow weighing on your heart lightens up only to hang down even heavier now after hearing his words, like a fog has lifted to unveil your true feelings while your heart still runs around in circles, frantically lost, so confused and caught off guard. His words are a real sucker punch to the gut that you didn’t see coming, one that leaves you breathless, because never did you imagine that this would be the issue you would have with Jungkook. Arguing over what to get for take-out? Of course. Bickering over who the better looking person is? All the time. Cussing one another out in Mario Kart? A regular occurrence. But falling in love with your best friend? Never in your dreams.

You clench your hands into fists on top of your thighs. It almost feels like you’re going to cry for some reason, maybe from just feeling overwhelmed by it all. But whether they’d be tears of joy or frustration, you have no clue. It just doesn’t make sense. You can’t just wake up one morning and suddenly love your best friend in a completely different way, it doesn’t work like that. But the more you think about it, the more you realize it didn’t happen overnight – none of this did. No, all those times he let you cry on his shoulder, whether it was because of your college boyfriend or because of a bad grade, all those moments he paused his video games just to talk with you about life, about nothing, til the wee hours of the morning, all those times he fought with you for the last crab rangoon like his life depended on it, only to give in and let you have it in the end – it’s in all these little moments that you didn’t realize you were slowly falling for the boy with the doe eyes, the smart mouth, and a heart of pure gold.

YoungHo is right – you are completely and undeniably in love with Jungkook.

These last four weeks have been hell, missing Jungkook so much more than you ever thought you would. The feeling is ten times worse than that one time junior year, when he went to a music camp for two weeks in the mountains with no phone service or wifi signal. You koala-ed him for nearly a week after he came back and demanded he never lose contact with you for that long ever again. This time is definitely much worse. This time, his absence had been constantly gnawing at you – a bitter, lonely, slow spreading infection eating away at your insides bit by bit, eventually leaving a gaping hole that wouldn’t be easy to patch up. It’s strange because the more time passed without his presence and the more you saw YoungHo’s face instead, the more often Jungkook’s would pop up in your head, as if to torture you even more in your misery. But now it all makes sense why that was happening.

Even in this very moment, you still miss those big, brown, doe eyes of his with all your heart, and the way his nose wrinkles adorably when he laughs or smiles, along with that brilliant smile itself– seriously, when was the last time you even saw the light? You miss the sight of his big hoodie clad figure splayed out on your couch and being able to banter with him and make him snort with the ridiculousness that spews from your mouth, you miss calling him names and immediately getting insulted back. You miss having his head or even his feet on your lap with Hulk playing in the background. You miss him so much, it hurts.

So much that you finally decide that enough is enough.  

“YoungHo,” You begin after who knows how long, your voice sounding more stable now. “I think I- I need to go.” Too busy filtering through the complicated web of thoughts and emotions, you didn’t even notice the way YoungHo’s expression completely changed since the start of the night until now. His expression is soft but there’s a sense of solemn acknowledgment in his eyes, and you can just feel his disappointment, the weight of reality sinking down on his shoulders. But his lips pull up into a somber smile as he stands up from the sofa and watches you follow his motion, your head hung low in shame.

“I’m so sorry, I’m a horrible person,” You blubber, feeling genuinely guilty, “I’m sorry I’ve wasted so much of your time and efforts and that I’m dumb as fuck and didn’t realize this sooner to avoid all this unnecessary misery. But I just want you to know that I had an amazing time hanging out with you. You’re an awesome guy, YoungHo, and I mean no bullshit when I say that I hope we can stay friends.” You find the courage to look up and directly into his eyes, eyes glistening with remorse. “I really mean that with all of my heart.”

He offers you a smile and it’s small, but to your relief, it’s genuine, and that helps to ease the guilt a little. “Whenever you’re craving thin crust, I’m always just a call away.” He cocks his head towards the door, “Now get out of here and stop being miserable already. Go, before I change my mind.”

You stand on your tiptoes to leave a light peck to his cheek, giving his arm a squeeze before you’re out the door, rushing towards the elevators while fumbling around with your phone to call an uber.

Jungkook may be busy and have more important people and things to tend to, but that doesn’t change the fact that that bastard neglected you and your friendship for an entire month now, that just the thought of him still makes your stomach churn with something miserable and painfully empty, though it feels different in the light of these new feelings you’ve discovered. But at this point, your feelings don’t even matter. And screw all of this “normal progression of adult friendships” crap. All you know is that no matter how you feel, no matter how he feels about you, in the end, you just want your best friend back – you need Jungkook back in your life.

- - - - -   

[7:34PM] You: joon

[7:34PM] You: where the hell has jeon been lately?

[7:35PM] You: bugger won’t reply to my texts and i rly need to talk to him

[7:36PM] Joonie: uhh, lately?

[7:36PM] Joonie: at home

[7:37PM] Joonie: playing overwatch

[7:39PM] You: ……

[7:40PM] You: what

[7:40PM] You: the actual

[7:40PM] You: fuck

[7:42PM] Joonie: what?

[7:44PM] You: for the last 4 weeks

[7:44PM] You: i thought he was busy dying over his demos and hanging out w/ soobin

[7:44PM] You: but he’s been ditching me for OVERWATCH?

[7:46PM] Joonie: well he was dying

[7:47PM] Joonie: he just turned in his demos not too long ago

[7:48PM] You: i’m gonna kick his sorry ass

[7:50PM] Joonie: wait

[7:52PM] You: what

[7:53PM] Joonie: you mean you don’t know?

[7:54PM] Joonie: jungkook didn’t tell you?

[7:55PM] You: ugh what now

[7:56PM] Joonie: dude

[7:58PM] Joonie: jungkook and soobin broke up like a month ago

- - - - -   

“Jungkook!” A breathless shout leaves your lips as you barge through your best friend’s bedroom door, flailing it open and simultaneously scaring the living daylights out of the owner of said bedroom. His hunched figure at the desk jumps up and whirls around at the sound of your voice as his headphones slide off one ear haphazardly.

“Holy Widowmaker, yes hi, hello, shit you scared me.” He exhales all in one breath, eyes still enlarged and mouth hanging slightly ajar. Judging by the look of surprise bordering sheer terror on his face, he definitely wasn’t expecting you. But then again, he doesn’t look like he was expecting anyone, really. He’s wearing a black hoodie that’s one size too big for him and matching colored basketball shorts, the oversized hood pulled up over mussed chestnut hair, and it honestly looks like he hasn’t moved to shower, change, or just move at all. But he still somehow looks so good like that, bits of his wavy hair falling into those warm hazelnut eyes, plump lips parted slightly – so unfairly and effortlessly handsome. It’s a mystery how you faced this man for so many years and somehow remained immune to his gorgeous looks alone (well, as long as he was fully clothed).  

“Wow,” You manage to get out between rapid breaths from quite literally running straight to Jungkook’s apartment from YoungHo’s place. You glance at his computer monitor before focusing back on him. “You really are playing Overwatch.”

He tilts his head in confusion. “Uh, why yes, I am?”

The urge to smack him for giving such a lame and frustratingly obvious answer is strong, but since he doesn’t understand the context from which you state this, you decide to spare him from your wrath for the time being, putting away the fists of fury for now as you march over to where he’s sitting in his fancy black and red, almost half cocoon-shaped gaming chair.

“How are you Jungkook? How’ve you been lately?” The questions roll off your tongue icily, eyes narrowing into slits that are meant to be intimidating, but it doesn’t look like it does all that much to Jungkook. From the way his eyes are still bulging out comically, it seems he still hasn’t fully gotten over the shock from your grand entrance as he mumbles a dazed “uh alright, how ‘bout you?” under his breath.

“Oh good, I’m glad, just so glad.” Sarcasm drips from your voice, and it’s hard to keep it from shaking. “And me? Oh well I’m just peachy – feeling fan-fucking-tastic.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” He queries, crinkling his nose in disagreement and looking too cute for his own good, “‘cause you sure as hell don’t sound or look like it.”

“Oh no, really, I’m just dandy!” Hands on your hips, you raise a brow at him and click your tongue once, “I’m just thrilled to see my best friend again after he avoided me for four weeks straight without any solid explanation as to why. It’s nice to see you’re still alive and kicking virtual ass, that’s all.” Slowly slipping his headphones off and setting them besides his mouse on the desk, Jungkook hesitantly rises to his feet, looking guilty, apologetic, but also slightly frustrated as he approaches you. He chooses to stand a few feet away, hands slipping into his pockets as he shifts his gaze to the floor. You can just feel this new barrier separating the two of you, and that realization hurts, especially since you still have no idea why he’s been acting so damn weird around you lately.

His lower lip is caught between his teeth, his eyes flitting around nervously as he contemplates what to say, how to explain the mess that was the last four weeks in order for it to make sense to you. But you’ll wait as long as it takes to hear him out and to resolve this issue. You’ve already waited four weeks, what’s another couple of seconds, minutes, or hours more? What else do you have left to lose?

You decide to help him out, though. You’re not sure it’s the best move to make, but you know it’ll get the job done and get the ball rolling for sure. So you bite the bullet and go for it, your voice much quieter and timid than before.

“How- how have you and Soobin been doing?”

It goes completely silent in the room safe for the almost inaudible sound of breathing and your heart beat pounding against your ear drums; besides that, it’s so quiet you would probably be able to hear a pin drop if one did. A thick tension begins to cloud the air that lies between you two as you wait for him to answer, for him to finally admit that he’s been lying, for him to stop with the bullshit and tell you what’s really going on with him. And after a few more excruciating moments, you begin to see him come around. It starts with how he squeezes his eyes shut and bites down on his lower lip even harder, staying like that for a few moments, the regret so evident in his expression. He knows he’s been caught red handed – that there’s no more escaping this conversation.

“Who told you?” Jungkook finally grits out, a low murmur under his breath as he trains his sights on the floor boards.

“Well, not you, that’s for sure.” You answer, the soft tone of your voice contrasting the sting that accompanies that comment. “Since you weren’t replying to my texts, I asked Namjoon about where the hell you’ve been lately, and he just suddenly dropped the bomb on me.” When all he does is continue to stare at the floor some more, you sigh, trying to cover up the way your lip quivers. You hate this weird awkwardness between you, and you want nothing more than for things to be okay again between you two – it’s driving you absolutely insane.

“What’s been going on these past few weeks, Jungkook?” You push on, silently begging for him to just give in already.

“___, I,” Jungkook stutters, raking a hand through his hair, the movement pushing his hoodie off his head to fully reveal his face. When the dim light from the lamp hits his face, only then do you realize just how haggard he looks. It’s almost like he hasn’t been getting very good sleep, much like yourself this past month. “I’ve just been… really busy.”

“Wrong answer, try again.” You refuse to lose to his stubbornness, not when you’ve come this far, not when things have escalated this much, not when your friendship feels like its dangling on its last fraying thread. He’s stubborn, but you’re a Taurus, and you are hell-bent on getting answers out of him, even if it means just standing there staring at him all night. You need to break down this new all he’s built up against you – it’s all you can think to do to get your best friend back.

Jungkook must sense your unwillingness to back down because he suddenly runs a hand down his face, a heavy sigh resonating from his chest. He knows this is all unavoidable – that now’s the time to lay it all out on the table. So he does, and nothing can prepare you for what he’s about to say.

“I was scared.”

Not expecting that answer at all, your brows furrow together in concern, and you feel your hands itching to just reach out and hold Jungkook, who can’t seem to lift his head and for once just looks so small. “Scared? Of what?”

“I, I thought I had more time,” He peeks out from under his eyelashes, lips forming a grim line, “more time left with you.”

Confusion fills your expression. “You make it sound like I’m dying and only have a few days left to live or something. What do you mean you thought you had more time?”

Jungkook clenches his jaw. It’s obvious that bringing all of his thoughts and feelings to the surface is proving to be a lot harder than it may seem. His hands keep curling into fists and unfurling over and over, the movement full of anxiety and tension. But then to your relief he finally speaks, breaking the silence with his quiet confession.

“For so many years, it’s just been me and you, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He starts off, voice soft and hesitant. “Even after college, we still somehow made it a routine to see each other at least what, twice a week? And then somehow Fat Fridays became a thing, our thing, and just having you by my side became enough for me. That’s all I ever needed.” His expression twists into one of distress, his brows knitting together, “Then all of a sudden, Hari and Tae convince you to start searching for a boyfriend to help with your quarter life crisis, and before I can even blink, you’re off on your first blind date who ends up being some dude that doesn’t know how to shut up to save his life.” You cringe inwardly at the thought of Date #1, doing your best to not let it show on your face for fear of interrupting Jungkook’s flow. Luckily he doesn’t seem to notice it and continues on, taking a cautious step towards you 

“So what choice did I have left? I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I somehow ended up downloading a couple of those dating apps you were using and made my own profile. And as you know, that’s how I met Soobin.” Jungkook smiles sadly, scoffing quietly to himself. “I – I had to fill the void somehow. And she seemed cool, liked anime, and she was pretty so I figured, why not give it a shot? If you were out there giving all those losers a chance, I might as well do the same.”

“Wait,” You interrupt him, pinching the bridge of your nose in confusion, “so you only dated Soobin because I was dating other guys?” He nods solemnly, shame filling his expression. “But why? Just because you thought I wouldn’t have time for you anymore?” Heart clenching inside your chest, you reach out to take a hold of his hand, “Jeon, you should’ve talked to me about this instead of avoiding me like the plague. You need to know that no matter what, I will always have time for you. You’re my best friend, and there’s no one else I can do Fat Fridays with – there is always time for you in my life.”

“No, that’s not it.” Jungkook interjects quietly, shoulders sagging like the energy is being sapped out of him. The sadness etched in his eyes make your heart sink even further – it makes you afraid to hear the rest of what he has to say.

He inhales deeply, involuntarily tightening his grip on your hand. “I was always afraid it’d happen one day, losing you to another guy. But honestly, I thought I still had time. When your first few online dates flopped, I was so relieved because it still meant I had time left with you. But then,” He exhales, his expression hardening slightly, “this YoungHo guy comes out of nowhere and sweeps you off your feet, makes you laugh and looks at you like he’s hit the jackpot and it just made me feel sick to the stomach. Then he offers to take you home,” Jungkook lets out a short laugh, the sound incredulous and wounded at the edges, “and that was the cherry on top. In that moment, I didn’t care if Soobin was there, I didn’t even care that she was my girlfriend at the time, as horrible as that may sound – all I knew was that some other guy was taking you home, and I just couldn’t take it anymore.”

“It felt like all of my worst nightmares were coming true. You looked like you were so into him, and he looked just as smitten with you, and when he left with you that night, I thought ‘wow, this is it.’” Jungkook closes his eyes briefly in anguish, as if just saying the words themselves is painful for him. “I thought ‘this is how I lose her – this is how I officially run out of time with the one girl I need in my life. I’m such a coward for not saying something sooner, for not taking the risk and just going for it. This – this is it.’”

Jungkook slowly looks up to meet your eyes, watching as tears gather at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over at any second. All this time, your best friend was fighting in a silent battle against his fears and insecurities, and the worst part is that those fears and insecurities involved you. You were so dumb and blind and really had no idea this is what was happening to him this whole time. But it’s all starting to make sense now. Why he was so upset that night at the Sound Bar. Why he was making up excuses to avoid you. Why he’s been hiding for the last month – it was to avoid having this very conversation. He thinks this is the last night he’ll ever have with you.

“That night, I went back to Soobin’s place and man, she let me have it.” Jungkook chuckles, the sound not happy in the least bit. “She was pissed, and rightly so. She told me she didn’t get why I was even dating her in the first place when it was obvious that all I cared about was you.” Giving your hand a gentle squeeze, Jungkook steps closer so that now, finally, his toes line up with yours, his body towering over you and dark eyes searching yours intently, as you take in his scent that smells like home, and it helps to ease the sharp sting in your heart a little. His other hand finds yours so that he’s holding them both, so gently within his palms, thumbs tracing your knuckles gently, affectionately.

“If you don’t get it by now, even after all I’ve said, then you’re a real idiot.” Jungkook jokes lightly, but his muscles are tense and shoulders hang heavily in stark contrast to his words. “But you’re also a moron for not realizing that I’ve been in love with you ever since you kicked my ass in Mario Kart freshman year of college.”

It took you all these years, a quarter-life-crisis, several horrible blind dates, and even a potential boyfriend to get your eyes to finally open and truly see what Jungkook has just confirmed for you. It’s just that when someone is by your side that often, that regularly, it becomes natural to have them there, to have their presence nearby almost at all times and it’s so nice not having to question it. It’s so easy to get comfortable and not consider any other ideas or feelings because why do that when what you’ve got is already so good? Why venture into dangerous territory when life is great in the safe zone? But that’s exactly what Jungkook did. He embraced those very ideas and feelings and kept them bottled up and neatly tucked away all these years, knowing what you two had was so good, knowing it wasn’t worth risking the friendship you two had built up and nurtured over time. He never pushed his feelings onto you, or held you back from anything just because he felt a certain way about you. All he did was stay by your side the entire time, protecting you, silently loving you and figuring out life with you every step of the way. It’s always been Jungkook – it’s always been him.

“You know, you’re gonna need to thank YoungHo after this.” You mutter after a brief and tense silence, a tear escaping to trickle down your cheek.

Jungkook, who still has worry and stress scribbled all over his face, visibly recoils at the sound of the name of the man who was once after your heart as well. “And why would I ever need to do that?”

Not letting another moment go to waste, you suddenly perch up onto the tips of your toes, letting go of Jungkook’s hands to cup his cheeks and press your lips against his. Hands snaking through soft, wavy locks, you press yourself further into his plush petal lips, moving your mouth gently against his as he remains frozen in place. It takes him a few seconds to react, and in those few moments you can imagine what he must look like – shell-shocked doe eyes, eyebrows raised in astonishment because is his best friend really kissing him right now? But then slowly he begins to melt into your touch, brushing against your flesh hesitantly, as if he can’t believe this is all happening, his hands finding the small of your back to pull you flush against his chest. You capture his top lip between the two of yours and gently suckle on it for a moment as if to reassure him that this is real and that it’s all okay now. He seems to take the hint because then he’s suddenly sliding a hand up your sides to cradle your head, lips fervently chasing after yours, tongue swiping at your bottom lip, begging to be let in. With a small moan, you allow him to lick into your mouth, the wet muscle hurriedly fighting for dominance with yours in a way that makes heat pool in your lower abdomen.

You never knew it would feel so right to kiss Jungkook like this, to feel him moan against your skin and graze his warm hands all along the curves of your body. The more accustomed you become to his touch, the more you want him – the more you crave him. But before it can get any more heated, he slows his movements before pulling away, slightly breathless, more strands of hair scattered messily on his forehead to frame his gorgeous face, the stupid stupid face you’ve missed with your entire being.

“Please say it.” Jungkook breathes out, chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath, his eyes dark and dripping with want. “Before we move on, before anything else happens I just- I need to hear you say it.” Feeling his hot breaths fan against your skin, onyx eyes fixated on yours, it’s in this moment that you realize you would do anything for this man. That even though he gazes at you like you’ve got galaxies in your eyes, he’s the one who owns every inch of your stubborn and stupidly blind heart. You don’t blame him for wanting, no, needing, solid affirmation after everything he’s been through, after everything the both of you have endured. And you yourself don’t want to hold back any longer either. But despite how overwhelmed you are with emotion, a playful grin twitches at the corners of your lips. Because this is still Jungkook you’re dealing with here – and you plan on dealing with him the way you would any other day.

“I…” You stutter, watching Jungkook’s eyes widen with anticipation as you utter the words he’s been waiting for years to hear.

“I love Park SeoJoon.”

You make the declaration playfully, unable to contain the wide smile that fully spreads across your face. There’s just no other way you could ever imagine this moment playing out. And to your delight, Jungkook growls at this and presses your body tightly against him, causing a laugh to slip past your lips. It feels so euphoric to finally be able to actually laugh and joke like this after spending these past few dismal weeks without your best friend – without the love of your life.

“Don’t make me make you say it.” His threat is empty, and it shows in the way he leans his forehead against yours, eyes crinkled at the corners and twinkling brightly even in the dimly lit room. And the way he looks at you has the words falling from your lips before you can even think to say them.

“I love you, Jeon Jungkook, more than just a friend. I love you so much more than just that.” Your cheeks feel like they’re going to split from how much you’re smiling. “And I’m sorry it took me a whole ninety-eight light years to realize it. I’m the village idiot.”

Jungkook turns his head to snort and you expect him to say something sassy back like he usually does, but instead he just beams with a radiant glow you don’t think you’ve ever seen on him before, or on anyone else, for that matter. He gazes at you like a man who, after endlessly searching far and wide for miles and years on end, has finally met the end of his sufferings and is being rewarded for his hardship – like a man who has finally returned to his home.

Completely satisfied with your answer, Jungkook pulls you back into his embrace, the shape of his lips immediately molding to fit yours. He tastes sweet with a hint of bitter saltiness from the one or two tears that escape as you close your eyes to meet his kiss with your own, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. These are tears of relief and joy – a sign that everything is going to be okay from now on.

Suddenly you jump up and hook your legs around his waist, and he lets out a small grunt from your unexpected attack, but he reacts quickly and catches you with no effort required, his hands immediately finding and supporting your bottom as he leans back in to kiss you, caressing your lips with his own like he just can’t get enough of you.

“Are- are you okay with this?” Jungkook murmurs between kisses, giving your ass a tentative squeeze, to which you just sigh into his lips, giving him a small nod before you reclaim his mouth. With a kiss to match every step he takes, Jungkook carries you to his bed before gingerly laying you back, his lips still attached to yours, only parting to trail kisses along your jaw and up the column of your neck until he finds a sweet spot right behind your ear. The feeling of his lips gently nipping at the sensitive area there has you arching up into his chest, your fingers finding their way under his shirt to stroke up and down the skin of his back in a light, feathery motion.

“You really, really have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” Jungkook whispers against your skin, catching your earlobe between his teeth, “How long I’ve wanted you.”

“Jungkook,” His name comes out in an airy breath, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his hands exploring your body, gently skimming down your sides and eventually lifting the hem of your shirt.

“Mmm, babe.” His hands slip beneath the fabric to caress the skin of your torso just beneath the swell of your breasts, head lifting from the crook of your neck to meet your eyes, a teasing lilt in his voice. “I am allowed to call you that now without getting beaten up, right?”

“Jeon, if you don’t hurry up and strip and get the show on the road already, I’m gonna do more than just beat you up, baby.” You snap jokingly, but it’s impossible to ignore the need and impatience clearly embedded in your voice, your dark pupils blown out and full of lust. You hold back a giggle at how Jungkook’s eyes go saucer wide, a visible confirmation for how he interpreted your words as a flush quickly creeps up his cheeks as well, making him look so cute, it’s almost unbearable. But he immediately shuts down all those thoughts as he rises up to his knees to pull off his hoodie, tight abdominal and pectoral muscles greeting you as he stares down at you, his gaze potent and heavy.

“Holy cheezits.” You exhale, eyes hungrily raking over the honey-glazed skin and the intricate lines that make up the map of his toned body. This time, you have no shame in openly gawking at all the hard work and dedication that has obviously paid off for him as you admire the lean muscles of his shoulders and arms and the way two particular crevices at his hip bones create a sharply defined “V” shape, the lines narrowing and then disappearing beneath the waistband of his shorts. He seems to notice your lack of shame too and chuckles darkly at the sight of your wide eyes drinking him in.

“What, are you hungry or something?” He laughs, and the sound is like music to your ears after not having heard the beautiful sound for so long. “Like, do you really have to bring up food right before I’m about to make you forget everything but my name?”

You suck in a breath and just hold it there at his bold words, words you never thought you’d ever hear him say, especially to you. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

He smiles before bending forward to leave a gentle kiss on your lips. “It’s whatever you want it to be, baby.”

That night, it felt like all hell broke loose, and the truth was finally brought to light. That life changing, very over-delayed night, Jungkook made sure to take his time with you. After several weeks apart and countless years of stuffing his emotions down his own throat, instead of rushing and letting it all end up as one big blur in his memory, he made sure to etch every kiss, every fluttering touch against your warm skin, every breathy moan and call of his name deep into his memory, to fully indulge in your warmth and the weight of your body against his. He teased you slowly with his touch, his mouth, the press of his body, while embedding the feeling of your smooth skin into his finger tips to remember forever, even though he knew he’d have many more opportunities to do so. He let himself come unraveled in front of you as you teased him right back, drawing your name from his lips in sweet low moans as you pleasured him and made his deepest, darkest fantasies come to life. You brought each other to your highs over and over again, kissing, caressing and exploring every single inch of skin available. Countless I love yous were pulled from your lips as he rocked into you, slowing down and then speeding up his pace, bringing you to the edge of your high only to bring you back down,  whispering even sweeter confessions and promises against your skin as you came for him, satiated him, and loved him with your entire existence.

At the wee hours of the morning, the two of you finally spent and tangled up in one another’s arms, breaths and heart beats matching and slowing to a sleepier pace, you pressed light kisses to his bare chest as he tucked your head under his chin, pulling you even closer against him, the feeling so indescribably perfect, like that’s where you have belonged the entire time. And in the few moments of consciousness before sleep took you captive for the night, Jungkook lightly stroking his fingers against your naked back, it dawned on you in that moment that what you’ve been missing the entire time was never an exciting, wild nightlife or having new hobbies to try out all the time. It wasn’t even going on dates or just having any old boyfriend and living life as the other young adults do. You realized that Jungkook’s always been the so called “missing piece” you felt you needed, even though he was always right there in front of your eyes all this time. He was just a piece of your puzzle of life that’s been sitting in the wrong spot – until now. It was him that you needed, and not just his friendship, not just his company, but his everything, Jungkook’s entire being – you just needed Jungkook.

With this in mind, sleep finally claimed you prisoner as you felt one more I love you whispered against your skin, a smile left on your lips as you slowly faded away into unconsciousness.

Being an adult wasn’t turning out to be so bad, not when you have everything you could ever need in your arms – not when you have Jungkook, your everything.

- - - - - 

[Loser’s club group chat]

Hari: ___ where are you?

Hari: why you won’t pick up

Hari: your apartments empty

Hari: AND WE’RE LATE FOR BRUNCHHH

Hari: srsly anyone know where she at?

Tae: let her be bruh, maybe she just got laid or something

Hari: why are you texting me i’m standing right next to you

Hari: and omg wait, could it be?

Yoongs: i can’t believe i had to sleep in the studio last night because of them

Joon: yall know i normally sleep like the dead but not last night holy shit

Tae: omg IT FINALLY HAPPENED

Tae: THE RED SEAAA

Hari: um excuse me

Hari: WHOS THEM???

Joon: PSA – jeon’s a very verbal lover

Joon: and a moaner

Joon: like a LOUD moaner

Hari: JEON??

Hari: LIKE ___ AND JEON??!!?

Hari: OR IS THAT JUST YOUNGHO’S NEW NICKNAME OR SOMETHING??

Hari: IT FINALLY HAPPENED??? WHAT THE FUCK????

Yoongs: seriously took em long enough

Yoongs: been eye fuckin each other for years now

Tae: HALLELUJAH FELIZ NAVIDAD YALL

Joon: so all it took was ___ going on a couple of blind dates huh

Joon: should’ve done this ages ago then

You: uhh

You: good morning everyone

You: i honestly

You: don’t even know what to say

JK: what can i say folks

JK: i tend to leave em speechless ;)

Hari: JOON

Hari: YOONGS

Hari: TAE AND I ARE COMING OVER LEAVE THE DOOR UNLOCKED

Hari: YOU HAVE A SHITTON OF EXPLAINING TO DO MISSY

Tae: don’t worry guys ill stall her

Tae: so you can get dressed and shit

Tae: or don’t. your choice ;)

JK: its all good

JK: ___ still has a lot of explaining to do for me as well

JK: we’re all waiting babe

Hari: BABE?!?!?!

Hari: omg i could cry i never thought i’d live to see this day come

You: ………

You: it’s gonna be a long day

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-09-15

This caught me laaaate at night gosh I’m tired but I’m gonna get it outta the way so it won’t stick in my craw!  Already saw the first page, so it’s time for:

> CHAPTER 13. The Funeral

Church with chess symbols at the peaks and a Prospit/Derse or Hope/Rage split color theme on the stained glass windows.

JANE: Dearly beloved...

> (==>)

Trolls, humans, and papparazzi.  Oh, hm, this church is RATHER carapacian isn’t it?  Between the chess and the continuing Prospit-Derse themes, like how this corresponds to how they align in the incipisphere top-left to bottom-right if I recall:

(Minus the outlying orbs to the left and right for symmetry.)

That twisted pattern is interesting, and not quite a spirograph.  Is that gonna be important later?  If we’re going to get some sort of class chart later in the comic, it’d be easy for them to hint at the chart’s graphical structure subtly by dropping it places like here.

JANE: Ladies... JANE: Gentlemen... JANE: News outlets... JANE: And other valued members of the Human Nation State.

Technically true, but still odd to hear--  ...oh right, I forgot this was asshole dictator-wannabe Jane, too.

I read an interesting twitter thread recently about the intense psychological distinction between wanting to BE the best, and wanting to be TREATED like you’re the best.  Epilogues/HS^2 Jane is kind of written as a case study on the pitfalls of leaning on the latter instead of the former.

> (==>)

They brought Yiffy WITH them-!?  --Oh right.  The hostage exchange was supposed to happen here wasn’t it.

Yiffy definitely looks like a Harley-Lalonde daughter in this shot.

JANE: Gamzee Makara, High Court Jester, exalted saint of the purple veil, has left us to traverse that grand, gay carnival in the sky, where, I am told by various members of the clownly cloth, he will spend the rest of history, honking in grand tribute to the Mirthful Messiah.

SINGULAR???

Weird.  Is it because Alt!Callie “won” here?

Or is Jane just forgetting because she’s culturally used to monotheism (ironically) and is insensitive.

JANE: And my first memory of our Purple Prince, was his robust codpiece--

Wow.

> (==>)

JANE: --As he offered me his friendly support, along with the sacred blood of his brethren, the holy sacrament--

He STILL killed trolls??! (EDIT: No, a friend points out that she's talking about when she met him first in Act 6 and he tried selling bottles of troll blood to her. EDIT2: -which may be another inconsistency, since Vriska supposedly overwrote that post-retcon.)

> (==>)

It takes Jake a few seconds of puzzled eye contact before he catches exactly what it is Yiffany is tossing down. In his defense, he is distracted by his wife’s speech, which is doing the emotional equivalent of wringing him out like a wet towel, before using that towel to slap the sweaty buttocks of a large, odorous man. Even if he knows everything she’s saying is a load of horsefeathers, it does nothing for his composure to hear her heap praise on that smelly, homewrecking clown.

Bad things about Gamzee deserve to be said here, yes.

Jake wonders what she’ll say about him, at his own funeral.

Now those are some uncomfortable thoughts.

He narrows his eyes in Yiffany’s direction. She’s a lovely girl, really. He wishes he could have gotten to know her under better circumstances. He’d known she existed, of course--Jane had complained about her often enough--but they’d never had much chance to get acquainted. He rather believes her and Tavvy would have been fast friends.

Then again, perhaps it’s better that she never had much of a chance to get to know his family.

He lets go of the leash.

Yep, there’s a plan to set in motion that he’s probably already discussed with her privately.  Gotta unite this four-kid team after all.

> (==>)

Wait, are you ATTACKING?!?  --Of course you’re attacking.  You would even if the plan was something different, wouldn’t you.

JANE: And I know that at times like these it is easy to want to give in. JANE: To throw in the towel, and turn our faces away from the light of democracy and moral fortitude that we, the citizens of the human kingdom, are blessed with from birth. JANE: God knows I’ve had my own faith tested in the last few weeks.

Jesus Christ, what has she turned the place into, a fucking theocracy?

She sounds like the leader of some screwed-up, fundamentalist country!  Like the United States!

*rimshot*

JANE: As many of you know, I did not grow up with the same privileges that all of you enjoy.

Jesus.

JANE: I was born on proto-Earth, that half-finished dystopia mangled by the ravages of foolish leadership and endless war.

Jesus, she really IS a self-evident takedown of hypocritical entitled political figures.  With the bonuses having Jasprose explicitly ADDRESS said entitlement to make things even clearer cut.

JANE: And as for Gamzee, well, his upbringing was even worse. JANE: He was born to a violent and uncaring home, a lonely child with few natural gifts.

...Some natural gifts and status.

> (==>)

She’s just, shaking with fury here isn’t she?  And about to perform an impressive corpse-lob.

JANE: It would be simple to let this disgusting, vile, SHAMEFUL act of spiteful revenge turn us away from the blinding light of the sword of justice that hangs over us all--

This sentence seems suspicious so I’m quoting it to refer to later if I need to, but is probably just platitudes.

> (==>)

JANE: Poised

> (==>)

JANE: Trembling

Okay maybe the sword’s a dick, but what exactly is Yiffany doing??  I’m finding it difficult as usual to tell between some of these image transitions.

> (==>)

JANE: Ready to burst forth--

Bad PR to shock-collar a kid mid press junket.  (Very dicks description.)

> (==>)

Click.  (Did they swap the shock function with Jane’s necklace somehow, that’d be fun.)

JANE: I want to give up, at times. I understand your pain.

While shocking a kid?  GREAT PR.

> (==>)

JANE: I sympathize with your pain.

Wow, those horrified audience members.  She REALLY can’t even see herself anymore can she?  Not even hear herself.  And they’re making sure this is pointed out to EVERYONE watching.  They described this as in large part a PR campaign to defeat her, didn’t they?

> (==>)

Great furious businesswoman-villain look, that art.

JANE: But when that pain! Becomes too hard! To endure! JANE: Remember poor, lifeless Gamzee! Who suffered pain far worse than any of us could ever fathom! JANE: THE PAIN OF BETRAYAL!

Click click click.  This is a fun sequence.

> (==>)

DIRK: Dude, didn’t you lower the voltage on that shock collar? DIRK: Little Red isn’t looking so hot. JAKE: Yes of course i did but the damn doohickys got the kick of a donkey! JAKE: I couldnt remove it completely shed know i was the one who did it! DIRK: Well, if that supervillain cuntwaffle doesn’t stop, she’s going to kill her. Not really the best at hostage management, is she.

Decent plan.  (And of course Dirk would pull out the word cunt.)  When’s the cavalry coming?

> (==>)

JANE: But we cannot allow his memory to be in vain! JANE: For Gamzee Makara taught us that even the most loathsome degenerate can take their place in society. JANE: All they need is the right redemption arc - !

Trying to hammer home some of the Epilogue’s trolly-critical themes a little less bleakly, I take it.

I kind of like the violent vibration in ALL of these gifs in a row.  It makes the scene seem small, slow, teeth-clenching but still full of steady action, emphasizing the importance of the relatively small events from panel to panel while giving them the sense with the animation of them being [i]drawn out[/i] and tortuous instead of just “occurring”.  It feels that way to me, anyway.

> (==>)

If he got up alive here, that’d be hilarious.  (Presumably he’s been treated and done-up like a normal funeral body, not “dormant” and undecaying like a dead god-tier.)

> (==>)

CORPSE PUNT w/ CLEATS

> (==>)

That face is just.  I love that face.

> (==>)

SHE MAD

JANE: Young lady, I am just about at the end of my rope with you. JANE: Throw all the dog bowls you want at the walls of my warship. JANE: But don’t you dare act up in front of a JANE: Live JANE: Fucking JANE: Newsfeed! YIFFY: Grrrrrr

What did you expect to happen?  Do you expect to shout her down from this, Jane?

JANE: After everything I’ve done for you--paying for your education, helping your parents cover up your existence from the world! JANE: Just imagine what Rose and Jade would say if they could see you now, even dissidents can have a little decorum! JANE: Get down from there at once! YIFFY: Grrrrrr

But this is GAMZEE.  --I guess it’s seriously disrespectful to his followers, though.  Still.  If you wanted civility from her, a shock collar, leash, and food bowl wasn’t the way to go about it.

JANE: Don’t you threaten me, young lady. Not today! YIFFY: GRRRRRRRRR

What is your PLAN even, Jane?  You’ve completely disregarded her.

JANE: There’s nowhere for you to go. My agents are swarming this church. Be reasonable, Yiffany. JANE: Ugh. JANE: Disgusting name. JANE: But that’s hardly your fault. You were always just a footnote. Your parents’ little prank. JANE: Honestly, that’s why I helped them all those years ago! I do love a good jape. JANE: But let’s be serious. JANE: You don’t matter. If you did, they would have come for you already.

Can all the press hear her being such an asshole?

Okay, stereotypically, their arrival should be the next couple panels:

> (==>)

Jake, do something useful like hoping harder.

> (==>)

And she knocks the remote away.  Excellent.

And she does. Seemingly at the end of her tolerance for insults toward her name, social status, and heritage, Yiffy performs an impressive backflip off the podium and down onto the church floor. One that, if it hadn’t been happening amidst a sea of other newsworthy events, would surely have ended up on someone’s instagram story within thirty seconds. She gives Gamzee’s corpse one last parting kick: a hard, proper kick that proves those cleats aren’t just for fashion. Although they are certainly also for fashion.

Good, good.

He vanishes into the seething crowd, and we are confident that we will never have to deal with this asshole ever again.

God damnit.

> (==>)

Jake watches this from a safe distance, poised on the edge of intervening to pull Yiffy out of there. But in the end he doesn’t have to. Instead he watches in admiration as she tears the place to utter shreds. An echoing sympathy swells inside of him as she rends apart the funeral flowers and punts Gamzee into the shrieking congregation. Here is a girl who felt the cold, indecent hand of fate wrapping around her, and instead of submitting to it and slowly sublimating down into morasse of boiled doormat, she slapped it away from her with a lively oh, no thank you.

All at once, Jake feels immense affection for his granddaughter. He hopes the two of them can make up for lost time.

Lessons belatedly learned, but learned nonetheless.

> (==>)

JANE: Enough of this. JANE: Seize her!

Kind of Red Queen of you.  (Are those stained glass windows in back of the frame about to burst?)

> (==>)

Yep.

The stained glass window shatters inward, obliterated to stardust. The war is knocking.

Even attacking a disgusting faith’s church is pretty bad form, though.

Tired and busy, seeya next upd8.  <3

[notapaladin]

glory and gore go hand in hand

What’s this? MORE emotional teocatl smut? Yup. You know my brand by now.

The Great Temple has been dedicated to the gods with thousands of sacrifices, and Teomitl's praises are being sung from one end of the empire to the other. He should be proud, but instead he’s just so, so tired. Acatl’s here to help.

Also on AO3!

-

There is blood on his hands. And in the creases of his elbows. And under his fingernails. It’s starting to dry, sticky and cold and disgusting, on his skin.

He can’t stop shaking. His skin feels too tight and too dry, still almost feverish, and it’s a blessing he’s still on his feet. At least he’s alone; at least nobody is here to see the Revered Speaker of Tenochtitlan struggling even with the simple task of washing his hands. Oh, they’d tried, of course—he’d left the dais and almost immediately been surrounded by his nobles and his attendants, all seeking to bring him aid, but he’d sent them all away. He thinks he’s seen too many people today, even with Huitzilopochtli’s light a blinding, scorching presence under his skin.

He’s definitely seen too many people. He hadn’t been able to look at their faces, hadn’t been able to bear their expressions, but—

There’s so much blood. He scrubs harder, cold water splashing from the basin onto the floor. His skin is crawling, but the rough towels help a little. When he tries to take a slow breath—slow, something to calm his racing heart—the action makes his shoulders ache again.

He can still feel the knife in his hands. He hadn’t been able to feel much while it was going on—his world had been heat and light and fire, lava pouring through his veins and the Southern Hummingbird’s breath in his ears—but he’d known he was holding the knife, had felt the resistance of muscle and bone and hot blood pumping over his hands as he’d grabbed and twisted and pulled.

He clenches his fists. It doesn’t help. He can still feel the sweat-slick grip of the knife in one hand, the steady beat beat beat of a pulsating heart in the other. No amount of lather or cold water will wash it away.

His people are praising him in the streets, for he has shown their strength to all those who would doubt them. The rulers of Metztitlan and Tlaxcala and Huexotzinco have seen the price of opposing him; though they leave with lavish gifts, he knows they’re happy just to escape with their lives. He has been a conduit for Huitzilopochtli, His hand in the Fifth World strengthening the boundaries and keeping them all safe from His sister’s rage. Under the sea of blood he’s spilled these past few days, Coyolxauhqui has been all but drowned; Her bottomless rage will not touch those he loves. He should be happy.

He wants to cry. He wants to shake until he falls apart.

He wants Acatl.

Hurry up, he mouths at the basin. You said you’d meet me here when the sacrifices were over; where are you? His lover had had no role to play in the rededication of the Great Temple and its twin shrines to Huitzilopochtli and Tlaloc; it had been harder than he’d liked to find a private moment to speak. Just to speak. They hadn’t even been able to touch. He misses him like a lost limb.

And then the sound of a rustling entrance curtain lets him know he’s no longer alone in the baths; he picks out a familiar, steady tread of bare feet on stone, and his shoulders slowly start to relax. He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t have to; he knows he’s safe. Acatl could hold a knife to his throat—oh, there’s an interesting idea—and he’d still be safe.

“Acatl.” His throat hurts.

“My Emperor.”

Acatl’s voice is soft, tender, awestruck—in truth the voice of a priest addressing his Revered Speaker, not a man speaking to his lover—but then he must realize the state Teomitl is in, because he steps forward to stand in front of him and gently, so gently, take his hands in both his own. “How do you feel?”

He sucks in a breath. He can’t quite look at him. Their joined hands are easier to take in, though Acatl’s are clean and cool and dry where his own are so hot and sticky-damp with water and blood that he’s surprised they haven’t started to steam. At least his fingers aren’t shaking quite so badly anymore. “...It was…” He swallows. “So much.”

“I’m not surprised.” Acatl presses soft lips to his forehead. They’re cool too—or maybe it’s just that his skin is burning. “You’ve never channeled so much power before, or for so long. But...you handled it very well.”

“I can’t get all the blood off,” falls from his lips, but what he really means is Help me. That, he bites back; he’s in no shape to break down yet.

Acatl strokes the backs of his hands, thumbs moving in soothing little circles. “...Let me?”

He nods. He’s still not sure he can trust his voice.

Acatl doesn’t seem to expect him to talk, at least. He turns away to wet a clean towel and start at the insides of Teomitl’s elbows, wiping at the drying flecks of blood with a gentler hand than Teomitl had used on himself. When he breaks the silence, his voice is quiet. “I know you don’t expect gratitude, but you’ve done more for our world these past few weeks than your brothers did in both their reigns put together. You’ve kept us safe for centuries to come. I’m so proud of you, my love.”

Even though he knows his lover is right, he’s too tired to appreciate the compliment. “You’ve saved the Fifth World half a dozen times over, and you’re proud of me?” It’s bitter and ungrateful, but he can feel tears prickle in the back of his throat and being caustic even for a moment will stop them from falling. The sudsy water sluicing over his arms feels like a balm.

Acatl doesn’t rise to the bait. The towel slides along first one of Teomitl’s forearms and then the other, gently clearing away the stuck-on gore. “I am,” he says softly. “You were magnificent. I’ve never seen the Southern Hummingbird’s power so bright and clear, and I have met Him in person.”

It hadn’t felt magnificent from where he’d been standing. The priests of Huitzilopochtli had moved like a well-trained unit to hold down victim after victim, and all he’d done was bring the knife down and hold the heart aloft for a moment before throwing it in the cuahxicalli. The stench of burning flesh has yet to leave his nostrils. He doesn’t want to see or smell meat for a week. No, a month. Maybe by then it won’t turn his stomach.

“Don’t let Quenami hear you say that,” he mutters. “He was…unpleasant.”

Acatl’s head lifts, eyes narrowing, even as his hands continue the work of getting blood out from under Teomitl’s nails. “Hm?” That single-toned hum carries a myriad of undertones, not least of which is the strong suggestion of murder.

More cold water is poured over his hands. It unknots something in his chest, and he can breathe a little easier. And, too, it gives him the strength to continue. That’s right. My enemies are Acatl’s enemies, because he loves me. “I could feel him standing there, all seething jealousy. I swear he was waiting for me to make a mistake or—I don’t know, drop the knife in someone’s chest cavity like Tizoc did that one time. I know you said to leave him be, but…”

They hadn’t quite fought about it, when he’d first brought it up in the long months before Tizoc’s death. He’d only drawn Acatl aside and told him the truth, as plainly as he could possibly make it. That if he had his way, Quenami would follow his Revered Speaker into the afterlife; that he deserved it a thousand times over, for having nearly taken Acatl from him.

That if Acatl really wanted, Quenami would get to live another day.

“Yes,” Acatl had said after a long pause. “Spare him, keep him as High Priest, so that he may know he’s beaten.”

Quenami had not felt beaten on the top of the Great Temple. A spot in the back of Teomitl’s right shoulder crawls with the memory of false, poisonous good will, a manic and vicious helpfulness that had just been waiting for him to falter. The man clearly has neither forgotten nor forgiven the moment after Tizoc’s death when Teomitl had drawn him close and told him just who he ought to be thanking for his miserable life.

Acatl’s voice takes on a honed edge. “...I changed my mind.”

His head snaps up, and for the first time he looks into Acatl’s eyes; their depths are as dark as ever, but now there’s firm resolve in them. And anger. His heart had started to slow down to normal, but now it’s kicking up again just registering the heat in that gaze. Acatl praises him for his power and strength, but his lover has never seen himself in a temper; it’s enough to send a lesser man than Teomitl to his knees.

Cool fingers tighten briefly on his own as Acatl continues. “Obviously, he has learned nothing from your mercy. Whatever you wish to do with him, I will not gainsay it. His replacement will surely be a man of better sense and decorum.”

It’s what he’s wanted to do for years, and part of him jumps at the chance. The rest of him studies Acatl’s face, remembers the way his lover is forever second-guessing himself, and asks, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Acatl grits out. “I can forgive insults to myself, but it’s a different matter when he thinks to undermine my Revered Speaker.”

You shouldn’t have to forgive anything, he thinks, but then the possessive notes in his lover’s voice hit him and he almost gasps. Yes, yes, that’s right. I’m yours. For a moment he almost can’t speak. They’re not close enough. The water on his skin isn’t cold enough. “...Oh, Acatl-tzin,” he breathes.

Acatl makes a soft, desperate sound. For an instant he looks as though he’ll kiss him, but instead he whispers his name like a prayer. “Ahuitzotl.”

“No.” He shakes his head, feeling the shiver travel down his spine. That’s not what he wants. He’s been Ahuitzotl too much lately, and it’s never rang true from his loved ones’ mouths anyway. “Call me by my name.”

Acatl closes his eyes, trembling faintly, and lets go of his hands. They’re clean now, at least on the surface. “...Teomitl.” And it sounds like a man addressing his lover, and it almost breaks his overfull heart.

He draws in a long breath, leans in, and falls into Acatl’s arms. Hold me, he thinks. Hold me until my skin feels like mine again. He doesn’t need to say it out loud; his lover’s arms slide around his waist, holding him securely as the earth holds the foundations of the Great Temple, and for the first time air comes easily to his lungs. He can take one breath, and the next, and the next, as long as he keeps his head tucked into the crook of Acatl’s neck.

Acatl’s voice comes out muffled from where he’s got his face buried in Teomitl’s hair. “Duality, you’re still so warm.”

He feels warm. Acatl’s skin is cool next to his, and when fingers splay open along his spine he shivers. “The Southern Hummingbird was...it was overwhelming,” he whispers. He can admit that, here and now. “I thought I would burn alive.”

There’s a pause. A long, indrawn breath, Acatl’s ribs expanding with it.

Then Acatl is pulling back and kissing him, long and slow and sweet, and he melts into it. His heart is still too fast, skin still stretched too thin over his joints, but with his lover’s mouth on his he’s starting to feel human again. In this, at least, the heat of lips and tongue against his is more than welcome.

“My love,” Acatl murmurs when the kiss is broken. “My jade and quetzal feathers. Let’s see if we can’t make you feel a bit better, hm?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask what Acatl has in mind, but his lover acts before he has the chance. One hand leaves his skin for a moment to dip back into the basin, and that’s all the warning he has before cold, wet fingers trail down the side of his neck. He trembles, breath catching in his throat. “Oh. That feels…” It feels incredible, is what it feels like. The cold on his overheated skin sends a jolt straight to his cock, and he has to bite his lip for a moment to maintain equilibrium.

Acatl watches him with something like concern. It’s terribly sweet, but in this instance entirely misplaced. “Too much?”

“Do that again,” Teomitl rasps out.

A smile flits across his face. He does it again. This time he brings his nails into play, scratching just hard enough to leave stinging lines behind, and Teomitl has to close his eyes as the sensation grounds him. It’s the most natural thing in the world to settle his hands at Acatl’s waist and tilt his face up, leaving it all under his lover’s control. He thinks again of a knife at his throat, and when sharp nails run over the thin skin of his collarbone his toes curl.

“Fuck, Acatl…” It’s almost a moan, and this time when his heart kicks up it’s not from the aftereffects of magical strain. His body is remembering it’s a thing that wants.

“...More?” Acatl almost—almost—sounds unruffled, but Teomitl can hear the catch in his voice and the way he shifts his weight in anticipation. It’s good to know he’s not the only one affected by what they’re doing.

Still, it’s kind of a stupid question under the circumstances. He’s breathing roughly already, more than half hard, and the loincloths they’re both wearing feel like too much fabric. He slips his hands into the waistband of Acatl’s loincloth, feeling the way the man shivers at wet skin on skin. “Yes. Gods, please.”

“Mmm. Alright.” He’s hyperaware of the warm breath on his face as his lover speaks; his skin tingles in all the places they aren’t touching. Acatl doesn’t close the distance between them; his fingers slide over his chest, circling one nipple with a thumbnail and making him twitch before continuing their journey down his stomach to the knot of his loincloth. Though he unties it gently enough, there’s a weight to the way the fine cotton tumbles carelessly to the floor that makes Teomitl quake.

He opens his eyes to find Acatl’s gaze locked on his, dark and deep and hungry. Oh yes, he thinks breathlessly. That’s what I want.

There’s nothing else he can do but kiss him, and this time it’s rough. This time it has teeth catching at Acatl’s bottom lip, hands all but tearing at the thin fabric of Acatl’s loincloth, the line of his lover’s body like lightning as it presses fully against his. Acatl’s hard and throbbing against him, bare skin like a brand. The Southern Hummingbird’s magic had felt like it was erasing him from the inside out, but the first grind of Acatl’s cock against his own is putting him back together. When his lover growls into his mouth, nails digging into his shoulderblades, he moans in response.

Then Acatl breaks their kiss, moving to press him up against the nearest wall; he gasps at the cold, smooth plaster against his skin, but it’s nothing compared to the sizzling shock of a hot mouth descending on his neck. The faint scrape of teeth isn’t enough to leave marks, but it’s enough to make his blood sing, make him twist and arch in Acatl’s arms—and then his lover reaches between their bodies to take him in hand, and he bucks with a rough cry. When Acatl lifts his head, he’s smiling like a wolf. “Oh, how sweet you sound.”

Teomitl can’t stay quiet, not even if his life depends on it. He spares a tiny scrap of thought to be glad for thick walls, but then Acatl squeezes and all thought flies out the window. “Ah...nnngh, gods…” His lover’s touch is slow and sure and relentless as it always is, pumping him steadily, and he can’t stop himself from thrusting into it. More. Gods, I want—

He surges forward, burying one hand in Acatl’s hair and wrapping the other around his cock. When he twists his wrist just the right way, it’s Acatl’s turn to moan out loud, music to his ears. “Ah, Teomitl…!”

There’s a deliciously hitched gasp in his voice; with his head pulled back his throat is right there, and Teomitl can’t resist just a bit of payback. He mouths along his throat to his collarbone, just this side of bruising, and only when Acatl is fucking into his tight grip does he lift his head and pant, “Did you think—hngh—I’d be selfish?” Coiling heat is rising in his veins like smoke, like the tide, but he can’t let himself focus on it when Acatl is rock-hard and leaking in his hand. He wants more of this, too.

And he gets it. Acatl’s never as loud as he is, but the roughness of his voice and the way he’s braced himself against the wall with an arm next to Teomitl’s head speak volumes. “You never are,” he growls, fingers rippling as they slide slick up Teomitl’s shaft again. “You are—hah, gods, you feel so good, my lord...”

Calling him magnificent, praising him for his rule—those are empty words. But Acatl’s voice cracking with pleasure, the strength of his lean body pressed against him, the way he’s panting with each stroke...that is praise he can take real pride in, and it sends fire through him. And, too, Acatl’s wonderful long-fingered hand is still working over the head of his cock, making his own hand falter. The pressure building at the base of his spine threatens to spill over. A little more, and he’ll fall over the edge. “Going to—!”

Acatl’s eyes are the hottest, darkest thing he’s ever seen. “Good. Let go for me, I’ve got you.”

He comes so hard he’s surprised his legs don’t give out. He could almost scream, but then Acatl’s kissing him and what comes out is a filthy, incoherent moan that reverberates through them both. The heat of Acatl’s body pressing him against the still-cold wall, the lightning shock of his release—it feels like it’s going on forever. Love, comes his first thought in the moment of clarity that follows. I love you.

And he doesn’t want to leave him unfulfilled. Not that there’s any risk of that; a few firm, rippling strokes and Acatl follows him a moment later, pulsing in his grip and spilling over both their stomachs with a long groan. He drops his head onto Teomitl’s shoulder, breathing hard, and for a long while he doesn’t speak.

When he does, his voice is soft. The hand he slides down Teomitl’s back is softer yet. “Mmm. Feeling better?”

“Mngh,” he says. He feels like melted rubber. He can’t even remember the last time he was this relaxed. It’s a real struggle to nod, to remember how to reopen his eyes when a blink closes them. “...I do.” Maybe it’s reckless of him—Revered Speaker or not, they have to be at least a little discreet—but he can’t stop himself from adding, “Take me to bed?” Even though leaving the baths will require the currently monumental tasks of getting themselves clean and dressed, Acatl’s here. Acatl will take care of him. And then they’ll be together in his chambers, and Acatl will keep taking care of him.

Acatl sighs fondly and holds him a little closer, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “...I can’t. There is to be a banquet in a few hours, remember? A great feast in your honor.”

Teomitl groans. He’d managed to forget about that, but now it’s coming back to him. He’d rather be at a street stall with Acatl by his elbow, but the Revered Speaker whose Great Temple will seal Coyolxauhqui for centuries must have a meal worthy of his station. “Come eat with me, at least.” Or else he’ll be alone. Surrounded by flattering nobles and fawning servants, yes, but alone.

Another kiss, feather-light, on his mouth. “I would love to.”

He finds himself smiling as he kisses back, just as softly. No, he’s still not looking forward to the banquet, but with Acatl by his side it won’t be so bad. They’ll grumble about political nitpicking together, and he’ll feed Acatl choice bits from his own plate.

And if he still avoids the platters of roasted peccary and venison, he knows his lover will understand.

[didanawisgi]

Anatomy of a Sheepdog

Book Excerpt; Grossman, D., with Christensen, L., On Combat: The Psychology and Physiology of Deadly Conflict in War and in Peace, WSG Research Publications, 2004.

​Reprinted countless times. Feel free to distribute as long as you attribute Lt. Col. Dave Grossman as the author and that it is an excerpt from his book, On Combat.

On Sheep, Wolves and Sheepdogs (From the book, On Combat, by Lt. Col. Dave Grossman)

“Honor never grows old, and honor rejoices the heart of age. It does so because honor is, finally, about defending those noble and worthy things that deserve defending, even if it comes at a high cost. In our time, that may mean social disapproval, public scorn, hardship, persecution, or as always, even death itself. The question remains: What is worth defending? What is worth dying for? What is worth living for?” - William J. Bennett In a lecture to the United States Naval Academy November 24, 1997

“One Vietnam veteran, an old retired colonel, once said this to me: “Most of the people in our society are sheep. They are kind, gentle, productive creatures who can only hurt one another by accident.” This is true. Remember, the murder rate is six per 100,000 per year, and the aggravated assault rate is four per 1,000 per year. What this means is that the vast majority of Americans are not inclined to hurt one another. Some estimates say that two million Americans are victims of violent crimes every year, a tragic, staggering number, perhaps an all-time record rate of violent crime. But there are almost 300 million Americans, which means that the odds of being a victim of violent crime is considerably less than one in a hundred on any given year. Furthermore, since many violent crimes are committed by repeat offenders, the actual number of violent citizens is considerably less than two million. Thus there is a paradox, and we must grasp both ends of the situation: We may well be in the most violent times in history, but violence is still remarkably rare. This is because most citizens are kind, decent people who are not capable of hurting each other, except by accident or under extreme provocation. They are sheep. I mean nothing negative by calling them sheep. To me it is like the pretty, blue robin’s egg. Inside it is soft and gooey but someday it will grow into something wonderful. But the egg cannot survive without its hard blue shell. Police officers, soldiers and other warriors are like that shell, and someday the civilization they protect will grow into something wonderful. For now, though, they need warriors to protect them from the predators. “Then there are the wolves,” the old war veteran said, “and the wolves feed on the sheep without mercy.” Do you believe there are wolves out there who will feed on the flock without mercy? You better believe it. There are evil men in this world and they are capable of evil deeds. The moment you forget that or pretend it is not so, you become a sheep. There is no safety in denial. “Then there are sheepdogs,” he went on, “and I’m a sheepdog. I live to protect the flock and confront the wolf.” Or, as a sign in one California law enforcement agency put it, “We intimidate those who intimidate others.” If you have no capacity for violence then you are a healthy productive citizen: a sheep. If you have a capacity for violence and no empathy for your fellow citizens, then you have defined an aggressive sociopath–a wolf. But what if you have a capacity for violence, and a deep love for your fellow citizens? Then you are a sheepdog, a warrior, someone who is walking the hero’s path. Someone who can walk into the heart of darkness, into the universal human phobia, and walk out unscathed. The gift of aggression

“What goes on around you… compares little with what goes on inside you.” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Everyone has been given a gift in life. Some people have a gift for science and some have a flair for art. And warriors have been given the gift of aggression. They would no more misuse this gift than a doctor would misuse his healing arts, but they yearn for the opportunity to use their gift to help others. These people, the ones who have been blessed with the gift of aggression and a love for others, are our sheepdogs. These are our warriors. One career police officer wrote to me about this after attending one of my Bulletproof Mind training sessions: “I want to say thank you for finally shedding some light on why it is that I can do what I do. I always knew why I did it. I love my [citizens], even the bad ones, and had a talent that I could return to my community. I just couldn’t put my finger on why I could wade through the chaos, the gore, the sadness, if given a chance try to make it all better, and walk right out the other side.” Let me expand on this old soldier’s excellent model of the sheep, wolves, and sheepdogs. We know that the sheep live in denial; that is what makes them sheep. They do not want to believe that there is evil in the world. They can accept the fact that fires can happen, which is why they want fire extinguishers, fire sprinklers, fire alarms and fire exits throughout their kids’ schools. But many of them are outraged at the idea of putting an armed police officer in their kid’s school. Our children are dozens of times more likely to be killed, and thousands of times more likely to be seriously injured, by school violence than by school fires, but the sheep’s only response to the possibility of violence is denial. The idea of someone coming to kill or harm their children is just too hard, so they choose the path of denial. The sheep generally do not like the sheepdog. He looks a lot like the wolf. He has fangs and the capacity for violence. The difference, though, is that the sheepdog must not, cannot and will not ever harm the sheep. Any sheepdog who intentionally harms the lowliest little lamb will be punished and removed. The world cannot work any other way, at least not in a representative democracy or a republic such as ours. Still, the sheepdog disturbs the sheep. He is a constant reminder that there are wolves in the land. They would prefer that he didn’t tell them where to go, or give them traffic tickets, or stand at the ready in our airports in camouflage fatigues holding an M-16. The sheep would much rather have the sheepdog cash in his fangs, spray paint himself white, and go, “Baa.” Until the wolf shows up. Then the entire flock tries desperately to hide behind one lonely sheepdog. As Kipling said in his poem about “Tommy” the British soldier:

While it’s Tommy this, an’ Tommy that, an’ “Tommy, fall be'ind,” But it’s “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there’s trouble in the wind, There’s trouble in the wind, my boys, there’s trouble in the wind, O it’s “Please to walk in front, sir,” when there’s trouble in the wind.

The students, the victims, at Columbine High School were big, tough high school students, and under ordinary circumstances they would not have had the time of day for a police officer. They were not bad kids; they just had nothing to say to a cop. When the school was under attack, however, and SWAT teams were clearing the rooms and hallways, the officers had to physically peel those clinging, sobbing kids off of them. This is how the little lambs feel about their sheepdog when the wolf is at the door. Look at what happened after September 11, 2001, when the wolf pounded hard on the door. Remember how America, more than ever before, felt differently about their law enforcement officers and military personnel? Remember how many times you heard the word hero? Understand that there is nothing morally superior about being a sheepdog; it is just what you choose to be. Also understand that a sheepdog is a funny critter: He is always sniffing around out on the perimeter, checking the breeze, barking at things that go bump in the night, and yearning for a righteous battle. That is, the young sheepdogs yearn for a righteous battle. The old sheepdogs are a little older and wiser, but they move to the sound of the guns when needed right along with the young ones. Here is how the sheep and the sheepdog think differently. The sheep pretend the wolf will never come, but the sheepdog lives for that day. After the attacks on September 11, 2001, most of the sheep, that is, most citizens in America said, “Thank God I wasn’t on one of those planes.” The sheepdogs, the warriors, said, “Dear God, I wish I could have been on one of those planes. Maybe I could have made a difference.” When you are truly transformed into a warrior and have truly invested yourself into warriorhood, you want to be there. You want to be able to make a difference. While there is nothing morally superior about the sheepdog, the warrior, he does have one real advantage. Only one. He is able to survive and thrive in an environment that destroys 98 percent of the population. There was research conducted a few years ago with individuals convicted of violent crimes. These cons were in prison for serious, predatory acts of violence: assaults, murders and killing law enforcement officers. The vast majority said that they specifically targeted victims by body language: slumped walk, passive behavior and lack of awareness. They chose their victims like big cats do in Africa, when they select one out of the herd that is least able to protect itself. However, when there were cues given by potential victims that indicated they would not go easily, the cons said that they would walk away. If the cons sensed that the target was a “counter-predator,” that is, a sheepdog, they would leave him alone unless there was no other choice but to engage. One police officer told me that he rode a commuter train to work each day. One day, as was his usual, he was standing in the crowded car, dressed in blue jeans, T-shirt and jacket, holding onto a pole and reading a paperback. At one of the stops, two street toughs boarded, shouting and cursing and doing every obnoxious thing possible to intimidate the other riders. The officer continued to read his book, though he kept a watchful eye on the two punks as they strolled along the aisle making comments to female passengers, and banging shoulders with men as they passed. As they approached the officer, he lowered his novel and made eye contact with them. “You got a problem, man?” one of the IQ-challenged punks asked. “You think you’re tough, or somethin’?” the other asked, obviously offended that this one was not shirking away from them. “As a matter of fact, I am tough,” the officer said, calmly and with a steady gaze. The two looked at him for a long moment, and then without saying a word, turned and moved back down the aisle to continue their taunting of the other passengers, the sheep. Some people may be destined to be sheep and others might be genetically primed to be wolves or sheepdogs. But I believe that most people can choose which one they want to be, and I’m proud to say that more and more Americans are choosing to become sheepdogs. Seven months after the attack on September 11, 2001, Todd Beamer was honored in his hometown of Cranbury, New Jersey. Todd, as you recall, was the man on Flight 93 over Pennsylvania who called on his cell phone to alert an operator from United Airlines about the hijacking. When he learned of the other three passenger planes that had been used as weapons, Todd dropped his phone and uttered the words, “Let’s roll,” which authorities believe was a signal to the other passengers to confront the terrorist hijackers. In one hour, a transformation occurred among the passengers–athletes, business people and parents–from sheep to sheepdogs and together they fought the wolves, ultimately saving an unknown number of lives on the ground. “Do you have any idea how hard it would be to live with yourself after that?”

“There is no safety for honest men except by believing all possible evil of evil men.” - Edmund Burke Reflections on the Revolution in France

Here is the point I like to emphasize, especially to the thousands of police officers and soldiers I speak to each year. In nature the sheep, real sheep, are born as sheep. Sheepdogs are born that way, and so are wolves. They didn’t have a choice. But you are not a critter. As a human being, you can be whatever you want to be. It is a conscious, moral decision.

If you want to be a sheep, then you can be a sheep and that is okay, but you must understand the price you pay. When the wolf comes, you and your loved ones are going to die if there is not a sheepdog there to protect you. If you want to be a wolf, you can be one, but the sheepdogs are going to hunt you down and you will never have rest, safety, trust or love. But if you want to be a sheepdog and walk the warrior’s path, then you must make a conscious and moral decision every day to dedicate, equip and prepare yourself to thrive in that toxic, corrosive moment when the wolf comes knocking at the door. For example, many officers carry their weapons in church. They are well concealed in ankle holsters, shoulder holsters or inside-the-belt holsters tucked into the small of their backs. Anytime you go to some form of religious service, there is a very good chance that a police officer in your congregation is carrying. You will never know if there is such an individual in your place of worship, until the wolf appears to slaughter you and your loved ones. I was training a group of police officers in Texas, and during the break, one officer asked his friend if he carried his weapon in church. The other cop replied, “I will never be caught without my gun in church.” I asked why he felt so strongly about this, and he told me about a police officer he knew who was at a church massacre in Ft. Worth, Texas, in 1999. In that incident, a mentally deranged individual came into the church and opened fire, gunning down 14 people. He said that officer believed he could have saved every life that day if he had been carrying his gun. His own son was shot, and all he could do was throw himself on the boy’s body and wait to die. That cop looked me in the eye and said, “Do you have any idea how hard it would be to live with yourself after that?” Some individuals would be horrified if they knew this police officer was carrying a weapon in church. They might call him paranoid and would probably scorn him. Yet these same individuals would be enraged and would call for “heads to roll” if they found out that the airbags in their cars were defective, or that the fire extinguisher and fire sprinklers in their kids’ school did not work. They can accept the fact that fires and traffic accidents can happen and that there must be safeguards against them. Their only response to the wolf, though, is denial, and all too often their response to the sheepdog is scorn and disdain. But the sheepdog quietly asks himself, “Do you have any idea how hard it would be to live with yourself if your loved ones were attacked and killed, and you had to stand there helplessly because you were unprepared for that day?” The warrior must cleanse denial from his thinking. Coach Bob Lindsey, a renowned law enforcement trainer, says that warriors must practice “when/then” thinking, not “if/when.” Instead of saying,“If it happens then I will take action,” the warrior says, “When it happens then I will be ready.” It is denial that turns people into sheep. Sheep are psychologically destroyed by combat because their only defense is denial, which is counterproductive and destructive, resulting in fear, helplessness and horror when the wolf shows up. Denial kills you twice. It kills you once, at your moment of truth when you are not physically prepared: You didn’t bring your gun; you didn’t train. Your only defense was wishful thinking. Hope is not a strategy. Denial kills you a second time because even if you do physically survive, you are psychologically shattered by fear, helplessness, horror and shame at your moment of truth. Chuck Yeager, the famous test pilot and first man to fly faster than the speed of sound, says that he knew he could die. There was no denial for him. He did not allow himself the luxury of denial. This acceptance of reality can cause fear, but it is a healthy, controlled fear that will keep you alive:

“I was always afraid of dying. Always. It was my fear that made me learn everything I could about my airplane and my emergency equipment, and kept me flying respectful of my machine and always alert in the cockpit.” - Brigadier General Chuck Yeager Yeager, An Autobiography

Gavin de Becker puts it like this in Fear Less, his superb post-9/11 book, which should be required reading for anyone trying to come to terms with our current world situation:

“..denial can be seductive, but it has an insidious side effect. For all the peace of mind deniers think they get by saying it isn’t so, the fall they take when faced with new violence is all the more unsettling. Denial is a save-now-pay-later scheme, a contract written entirely in small print, for in the long run, the denying person knows the truth on some level.”

And so the warrior must strive to confront denial in all aspects of his life, and prepare himself for the day when evil comes. If you are a warrior who is legally authorized to carry a weapon and you step outside without that weapon, then you become a sheep, pretending that the bad man will not come today. No one can be “on” 24/7 for a lifetime. Everyone needs down time. But if you are authorized to carry a weapon, and you walk outside without it, just take a deep breath, and say this to yourself… “Baa.” This business of being a sheep or a sheepdog is not a yes-no dichotomy. It is not an all-or-nothing, either-or choice. It is a matter of degrees, a continuum. On one end is an abject, head-in-the-grass sheep and on the other end is the ultimate warrior. Few people exist completely on one end or the other. Most of us live somewhere in between. Since 9-11 almost everyone in America took a step up that continuum, away from denial. The sheep took a few steps toward accepting and appreciating their warriors, and the warriors started taking their job more seriously. The degree to which you move up that continuum, away from sheephood and denial, is the degree to which you and your loved ones will survive, physically and psychologically at your moment of truth.”

[lemonietrinket]

Dinosaur ||| Doyoung x Reader

Summary: Doyoung was worried to meet your family, but he needn’t have been.  Genre: Fluff, Comedy, heated elements bc who doesnt want to make out with doyoung Warning(s): None Word Count: 2133 Theme Song: Fade Into You - Mazzy Star AN: December 17th prompt, meeting each other’s families (credit @songi-writes) Sorry this one is so much shorter than the others, I’m working on some bigger oneshots so needed to get this one done and dusted in a short period of time :(( EDIT: now I’ve edited I have realised how bad this was in places I’m so so sorry

~~~

You lay on your bed, taking in the sight of the man you loved. A single beam of light shone through the ajar door, falling in a golden haze at the strike of his jaw and gently illuminating the rest of his face for your eyes alone.

God he was so beautiful.

You stroked your hand across his cheek, thumb caressing the smooth skin there, slightly puffed in his sleeping state. 

Relief washed over you like the waves on the beach of a calm summer’s day, sinking into your breath, steady and paced.  He’d been so worried that morning, so tense throughout the whole drive there, and to see him finally resting let you finally allow yourself some peace.

You were staying round your parents’ house for the weekend, and he’d been absolutely terrified.  They’d never met him before, and though you’d told them a fair bit about him, you’d tried to keep the details as unobtrusive as possible, knowing Doyoung was quite a private person—you preferring your relationship to remain that way too.

However, it meant your parents had no idea what to expect, and he was afraid they were going to struggle with his blunter energy.

Or, in his words, loathe him with every fibre of their beings and banish him from ever laying eyes upon you ever again.

As you tempted your eyes to stay open by taking in the shadows of his features, your lips spread into a smile remembering his panicked ramblings, and at how misguided they were.

You knew they were going to love him. Even if your parents rambled on about things you should watch out for and things that make a man a keeper, and even if they pestered you or seemed blissfully ignorant of your choices, they still retained that it was your decision, deep down. Even if they made a fuss about it first. 

Nevertheless, Doyoung checked many of the boxes your parents required. Smart, polite, respectful, who was undoubtedly in love with you, with no eyes for any other. There was no doubt that they’d make a fuss about how good of a choice he was.

Still, your encouragement had proven little use, as the man—ever the pessimist—wouldn’t quite believe he was the perfect choice until he could see it for himself. And even then he would never admit it. You just worried for what this did to his heart, as he inevitably paced around, shoulders rigid, jaw clenched and lips pursed before you left.

Now he was peaceful again, and unbearably adorable as he twitched a little in his sleep. You pulled your hand away and let him nestle into a more comfortable position, content with just tracing the lines of his fingers instead.

.

When you’d entered through the door, you knew instantly that your mother recognised him. You knew it wasn’t a deep recognition, only that she’d seen his face before, and she’d questioned you about it while your dad spun Doyoung away to give him a tour of the house.

“Y/N, I swear to you that I’ve seen your boyfriend before,” she said, “is he a model? I-in one of the magazines?”

You’d chuckled, explaining that he was handsome enough to be, that she’d been more likely to have seen him on TV.

“Oh,” she’d said, “well I’m not sure about that, we don’t watch TV as much anymore, we only really have it on to watch the news, or big shows.”

Laughing, you asked her if Doyoung looked like he could be a big name to her.

She’d replied with a strong shake of her head. “No! No no. He’s too nice and gentle for big showbizz, hun. Why? He isn’t is he?”

You’d merely smiled in an effort to hold in your laughter, as well as slight pride, as you walked off to bring the bags in from the car. 

.

Doyoung rolled over to face the other way in his sleep, and you shifted a little closer so you could still garner some warmth. You slipped your arm over his waist gently in order to not wake him, and rested your head against his shoulder blade. A sigh left your lips at the mere feeling of his being, as he existed, and he was here with you. You couldn’t even believe it sometimes, and he was one of the more down-to-earth members of his group. The thought led you to stifle a chuckle at the thought of who was going to end up dating Jungwoo, or Yukhei, or god forbid Ten or Donghyuck—they would all be hard work in different ways, but those two really required something extra. Still, they were all such catches.  Nuzzling your cheek into his skin, you breathed in the scent of Doyoung, fresh and unintrusive, unable to hold yourself back from softly pressing a kiss into his back. 

.

The truth had come out at the dinner table, when your father had asked too much detail about Doyoung’s career.

He just wanted to know how much he earnt, but it ended up being a full on presentation of how all of the NCT units worked. Eventually your boyfriend had multiple pieces of paper with in-depth diagrams placed upon your grandmother’s old easel in the corner, using a bread knife as a pointer.

Throughout the entire thing, and bless it took your parents a while to get it, you were laughing so hard that by the end that you felt lightheaded. You had to give your family credit however, for paying so much attention to him—the fact that they stuck with it proved to him somewhat that they didn’t hate him as much as he feared, and consequently you found his words coming together much smoother afterwards. Though you had to admit it came as quite a surprise to you. You hadn’t expected them to behave in such an interested, genuine and determined manner, even for one that they held in such high esteem. 

.

Before you could dwell on the complexities of your parents’ behaviour—something that you would much prefer to leave in the past—Doyoung sat up in your bed, taking half of the blankets with him.

Ignoring the sudden cold across your torso, you lazily joined him, propping yourself up on an arm and gently holding his shoulder concernedly. “Hey, baby, what’s wrong?”

He turned to you in the dark, the sliver of light from the hall barely showing his face and leaving you to search his bleary eyes in the shadows.  “I’ve met your parents, haven’t I?” he asked hesitantly.

You watched him bemusedly glance around the room, wanting to hold him closer and console him but not being sure if it was what he even needed. “Yes, you have.”

“Do they like me?” His voice was stronger this time, still grappled by sleep but no less worried about some part of his fate.

“Yes! They certainly do.”

There was a relieved sigh, as your boyfriend slumped back onto the bed. “Thank the world for that.”

“Why?” you enquired, shifting your weight so you could see him better in the dark. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No,” he reassured, turning over to face you, “no, just a... really weird dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it? It may help,” you suggested, though as you leant in you saw how his sweet features twisted into a sheepish smile. You caught onto his train of thought, “Or do I not want to know?”

“Probably not.”

You hummed, resting your head on your hand as you sent him a playful grin. “I don’t know, I’m kind of curious now... Give me five words.”

He peered up at you incredulously from the pillow where his dishevelled hair framed his face perfectly. “You...? You know why am I surprised.” He sighed, biting the inside of his lip as he thought. “Let me see... ‘your mum was a dinosaur’?”

You mouth fell open in giggly shock as you gasped and playfully kicked his leg. “Excuse me, sir! My mother does not look like a dinosaur!”

“I know! She doesn’t! Of course! But she like,” he searched for the words desperately as he tried not to laugh while you gave into them yourself, “she-she was like half a dinosaur in my dream and it was really weird, I told you that you didn’t want to know!”

“What the hell, Doyoung?!” you questioned aimlessly with a cackle as you joined him back on the mattress, a hand reaching out for his. He accepted your hand reluctantly, playing with it surprisingly petulantly, thumping it into the duvet. “Genuinely only my boyfriend would worry so much about his girlfriend’s mum not liking him that she would appear as a dinosaur in his dreams to... what,” you took a wild guess, “eat him because she didn’t like him?”

He faked hurt, his cheeks puffed out which only made the urge to pepper him in kisses stronger. “You better be proud of me, then!” he insisted, before shaking his head, leaning in a little closer to you. “And no, she just sat down with me beneath this big, shiny tree and just lectured me for what felt like hours—it was actually much, much worse than being eaten.”

You laughed a bit too loudly at the image his words provoked, which incurred Doyoung to hush you. “Keep it down...!”

“Or what,” you snickered, rubbing your eyes, “I’ll wake the real dinosaur and then she can lecture you for real?”

“Aish, shut up!” he whined at your childish teasing, but this time your giggles didn’t stop. Rolling his eyes, he decided to take the opportunity and rolled over so he could press a kiss to your lips. Chaste and quick, he’d hoped it would do the job, as he feared what a deeper kiss would do to his system—he could get lost in you so easily after all. For a few moments you settled into a amused silence, and he smiled in relief, hovering above you.

Unfortunately, it didn’t quite last.

“Is that all you’ve got? For the love of your life?” you pestered, smirking proudly. “A tiny peck to make me be quiet? When I know you’re capable of much more? Doyoung, quite frankly, I am ashamed!”

He guffawed, his lips smushing together in humourous indignance, before he let himself take revenge and tackle you into a deeper kiss. Your noses brushed as you met his lips, this time much hotter and deeper. Practically straddling you, your body was engulfed in warmth as Doyoung reached up to hold your cheek with a cold hand. The contrast made you squeak at the sudden iciness, but it only led him to sink into the kiss more. 

Clutching at his shirt, you felt your laughter die down and a more comfortable haziness settle into your bones. You slowly slipped your hands up across his lithe waist, across his torso, toned yet supple beneath your fingers, finally knotting your hands behind his neck. He shuddered at your caresses of his chest, dropping onto his side so he could rest but hold you closer—his predominant aim, as he couldn’t sink into you how he wished with space between you. And so his hand slipped to the small of your back, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt and traced calligraphy into your skin. The movement was so tender, but it did startle you, leading you to hum into his touch as you instead wrung your hand in the soft tresses of his hair. 

Gradually you pulled away, your breathing slightly laboured and your lips plump from his ministrations; despite how he presented himself, Doyoung knew exactly how to steal your breath away, and he didn’t fail to do so. You gazed at him lovingly in the dim light, the auburn from the lamp beyond you revealing his flushed cheeks—reminding you of what you could do to him no less too. Slowly dipping in to kiss him once more, your touch ebbed with lethargy, he murmured as he pulled away, “Are you a little more tired now?”

“A little,” you admitted, letting yourself fall away from him and into the pillow. He nodded, feeling successful and proud but nonetheless exhausted himself. Reaching across he dipped into kiss your cheek, coming to rest just beside you. Meanwhile necessity implored you to seek cooler air to finally settle into sleep and so you rolled to face away from him, eyelids already feeling heavier again.

He hummed in acknowledgement, satisfied with the results he’d earnt, and joined you, his arms wrapping around you as he took the role of the big spoon. Nestling his nose into your neck, he whispered, “Goodnight love.”

“Goodnight,” you replied, closing your eyes and willing yourself into the world of sleep at last. 

~~~

AN: I don’t like it. I don’t think it ended well. I’m sorry, I had to write it fast, I’ll edit it one day I promise.

I also just realised this isn’t very christmassy. That being said, I wasn’t in a very christmassy mood when i wrote this so it’s no surprise really Sorry :((

Check out my other stuff it is undoubtedly much better lol

EDIT: ok so, this was pretty bad when I first wrote it, but like, now it’s much much better. I think? I feel the tone is very different though.

still don’t feel the end is amazing but I’ve got bigg bois to write so this will do for now I think. hope this does doyoung a better service than the original did

[edited: 12th April 2020]

Masterlist

[elm-lawrence]

MUTANT: THE BEGINNING // Chapter One: The News

Stephanie stifled a yawn as a customer walked to her register. This was her first customer in hours which, she mused, was the side-effect of working at a twenty-four-hour corner shop. As she rung up the sale and exchanged pleasantries with the middle-aged women, she glanced at the clock and groaned inwardly when it only read 2:23am. Only an hour and a half left  

she thought to herself in an effort to lift her own spirits, but only succeeded in driving them lower than they were before.  

She handed the lady her change, bid her a good night and then watched her wander slowly out the door. A blast of chilled wind snuck its way into the shop, for the brief moment the door was open. Stephanie shivered, and tried not the think about her walk home. Having had enough of standing still, and seeing no more customers, she decided to go for a stroll around the isles. As she walked, she made mental notes of what needed restocking, all while very conscious of the fact she would never remember them all.

She heard movement behind her and turned. Jed, the only other staff member working this late on a Thursday, was struggling with a heavy box at the door to the stock room. She ran to help him.

“I’ve told you before, J, it’s bad for your back to lift these on your own!” Jed was a 40-something year old man with tanned skin, dark hair and the bushiest eye-brows Stephanie had ever seen. He had been off with a bad back no less than 6 months ago and had come back with strict instructions from his doctor to take it easy but seemed to take this more as a suggestion than an order.

“I’m fine, Steph! It’s not even that heavy!” He said, huffing slightly, once they’d set it down.

“Really? So, the hyperventilating is just, what, your normal reaction to movement?” She said, fixing him with her best withering stare. She got a playful glare in response.

“You ought to learn to respect your elders, young lady. You’re, what, 20? 21?”

“23.”

“23! That’s still a baby, if you ask me. Far too young to have such an attitude.”

“And you’re far too old to be lifting heavy boxes by yourself, clearly.” She teased back, enjoying the only source of entertainment she had.

“Why, you cheeky-” He cut himself off when the bell over the door rang out, signalling someone entering the shop.  

“Go on, run along now.” He gestured at her dismissively as he pulled out his box cutter and began stocking cans onto the shelves beside him. She sighed and hurried back to her post, smiling as she passed the customer but got no acknowledgement in response. Stephanie frowned as she moved to her counter and continued to keep an eye on the man. He was around 25-ish, dressed in black jeans, a dark blue sweater and a grey beanie. He seemed dazed and unfocused as he searched the shelves. As she inspected him, she could see sweat on his skin despite the cool March night temperatures and the shops general lack of insulation. Stephanie almost classed him as suspicious but having worked the night shift so many times over her year and a half of employment, it took a lot more than knitted headwear and unseasonal sweat to peak her interested. Afterall, most who did their shopping at corner shops at 3am where not what one would consider ‘average.’

He approached the counter with a few bags of crisps, a fizzy drink and some painkillers. She rung him up, keeping an eye on his. For his part, his own eyes were rapidly darting back and forth, seemingly unable to focus on any one thing for more than a few seconds.  

“That’ll be £5.40, please.” She said, watching him warily now. The neighbourhood the shop was based in had a bad reputation which, in her opinion, was not completely true, but the occasionally unsavoury character found their way through. The man did not seem to hear her, his eyes fixated now on something just over her left shoulder. She fought the urge to turn and remained her composure.

“Sir?” His eyes focused on her now, seeming to realise for the first time that she was there, waiting for his response.  

“Huh?” He asked, and even from this she could tell he would slur his words if he was able for form any sort of coherent sentence.

“That will be £5.40, please.” She repeated, gesturing to the items on the counter.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled £10 note and dropped it on the counter. “Keep the change.” He said and gathered his things in his arms before unsteadily stumbled out into the street, the bell chiming his exit. Stephanie put the money in the till and glanced up as Jed walked over.

“He was a strange one.”

“Looked like he was high on something. And he got sweat on my counter.” She grimaced at the droplets and fished around under the desk for the disinfectant and cloth she kept there. She was no stranger to strange people, and she did not particularly mind most of them so long as they kept their strange off her counter.

“What time you here till?” Jed asked her as she swept the cloth over the counter.

“Four am, almost home time. You?” Jed scowled at the glass window looking out onto the dark empty streets, as if blaming his work life on the night-time sky.

“Six. Josh said he couldn’t start any earlier so Bossman's got me pulling his weight.” Stephanie shook her head.

“Typical.” She sighed.

#

The clock struck 4:00 as she clocked out, yelling her goodbye and good luck to Jed, she shrugged her coat on and shivered when she stepped into the cool night air. Stephanie lived relatively close to her work which, when her boss seemed to have sealed her fate to work until stupid hours of the morning until her death, was a blessing.  

Pulling the coat tighter around her and shoving her hands in her pockets, she walked quickly through the streets, which already had the beginnings of a frost settling upon them. She turned the corner, sped up the streets and reached her apartment building in no more than ten minutes. She took her keys from her pocket, freezing night air immediately seizing her skin in its icy grip, unlocked the door, shut it heavily behind her and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. She stopped outside apartment 130 and unlocked the door before hurrying inside.

Once safely inside her home, she shed her coat and jumper, cranked up the heating a tad, and sat heavily on her sofa with a sigh of relief.

“God this sofa has never felt so good,” she murmured, flicking the TV onto the late-night news channel. After allowing the news to sufficiently scare her about the current state of the world, Stephanie decided food would make her feel better again and muted the TV as she moved to her kitchen. Unfortunately, she discovered, for someone who worked somewhere people buy food from, she was horrendously understocked.  

“What a terrible excuse for an adult I am.” She scolded herself, slipping some partially stale bread in the toaster and plunging it down as she rooted the butter out of the fridge. She quickly got changed, slipping her pyjama shorts on just as the toaster popped. She sat back down, having completed her gourmet meal, and glanced back at the TV. The presenter was the same as before; a middle-age white man with greying hair, slicked back to give the illusion of volume. This time, however, he looked worried. His eyes held uncertainty as they moved across the page, and his mouth was moving quickly. Stephanie frowned, then unmuted the TV while she ate and his words flooded the room, like a tidal wave of bad news.

“-urging people to stay in their homes. The illness seems to spread via contact with body fluids, however nothing is confirmed. As of yet, the illness seems to be confined to Russia, with their borders being shut down and any and all British personnel of importance transported via private airways back to the safety of the United Kingdom. These officials are being closely monitored and quarantined for clinical signs. Any updates will be broadcast as soon as we have them.” With that, the broadcast cut off abruptly and adverts began rolling across her screen.

Stephanie muted the TV again and sat back, crunching into her last slice of toast. Just then, a clattering from her bedroom, and movement towards her sofa.

“Bout time you woke up!” She called light-heartedly, as her Siamese cat hopped up onto the back of her sofa, mewing and purring. She moved the plate on her lap to the coffee table and picked him up, cuddling him into her body.  

“Good morning handsome boy, I take it you enjoyed your time alone? No parties while I was gone?” Her purred in response, rubbing up against her. Technically speaking, Sye was not her cat per say, rather one that seemed to invade her home every few days for a nap while she was at work. Stephanie assumed he lived somewhere in the building, probably a loud apartment with annoying kids, and her bed was more his nap pad than anything else. When she first saw him in the halls, he’d followed her back to her flat and even since then Sye would show up, completely randomly and out-of-the-blue like the terrible house guest he was.

“You hungry?” She asked him, and he meowed loudly at her, jumping onto the arm of the chair and flicking his tail.

“An enthusiastic yes, then!” She pushed herself up, shoved some cat food onto a plate and put it on the kitchen floor. While Sye inhaled his food, she went to her bedroom and flicked the lights on, sighing at the phone charger that was now on the floor.  

“I invite you into my home, feed you, keep you warm, let you nap… and this is how you repay me?” She muttered, picking it up and placing it back on her nightstand. “Typical.”

She grabbed her laptop, plopped down on her bed and opened it up. She noted dully that it was nearly 5am.  

As she settled into her nightly routine of aimless scrolling, she heard a loud meow followed by the faint sounds of claws on her rug.

“Hey!” She yelled as she cast her laptop aside and ran to her front door. “We will have none of that in this home, sir.” She scolded Sye, as he sat down in front of her doors, eyes wide and expecting.

“I do hope you behave better for your real family. Go on, shoo.” She opened her door and he meowed once before strolling slowing down the hallway towards the stairs. Shaking her head, she flicked the sound back up on the TV.  

“A press release from Government officials has been released.” Stated the white-haired news caster. “Much like earlier, people are being urged to stay in their homes, however those in the centre of heavily populated areas are being urged to find refuge in less densely populated areas if it is safe to do so. Public transport may be affected. It has been released that this new pandemic can turn people violent. There have been reports of random attacks on strangers, wives attacking husbands, even children attacking parents. I will reiterate at this point to stay inside. The virus is spread through contact with those already infected. Research into this new virus is being conducted, but due to the large number of people reporting symptoms the work is moving slowly. Please, if anyone near you is presenting symptoms, restrain them for their own safety, until medical officials can reach you. Do not take them to the hospitals yourself, for your own safety. Be safe.”

And with that, the broadcaster disappeared off screen and was replaced not by the usual music, by but a black screen. Stephanie stood still, staring at the dark TV screen, giving herself a few more moments to properly absorb the story.

Suddenly, from outside there came the sound of squealing tires and metal scraping.

She ran to the window, broken from her fear by the thundering noise, peering outside into the streets. This early in the morning, the run-down area was relatively quiet, with the occasional noise of traffic from the nearby main roads. With the sun rising over the city, casting it in an eerie early morning shadow, Stephanie saw a car on the pavement, a lamppost bent over the dented bonnet. She watched for any movement, reaching blindly for her phone to dial for an ambulance, when someone stepped out from the wreckage.  

As she called for an ambulance, someone emerged from the building opposite hers, rushing towards the accident. The driver was leaning against their car, head slumped with a hand over their chest. The concerned stranger reached them, reached out a hand, before the driver’s head snapped up. Stephanie could not see the expression on either face from her vantage point, however she got a bad feeling about the exchange by the way the stranger froze a few feet from the driver. She fought the irrational urge to go outside and see if he was okay.

The phone was still ringing. She had been so wrapped up in watching the scene unfold she’d forgotten she was calling the ambulance. Why was it still ringing? She’d dialled minutes ago, how long did the emergency services take to answer the phone?  

Then the ringing stopped, and she took her eyes off the scene before her to frown at her phone, checking if she still had power. She did. The call had dropped, her signal had dropped. She heard a scream and looked back to see the driver running after the stranger, arms outstretched and movements wild like a starved predator. Even from her room, she heard his growling, like a rabid animal. Eyes wide, heart racing, she drew the curtains.

[and-the-paradime-shifts]

Smoke, Flares, and Turbo Energy

Part 1 - Beginnings

Guys, I'm picking up some major energy fluxes." Raf told us through the comms as we stopped our vehicles at a set of traffic lights. He sent the three of us the readings over our vehicles monitors. "You guys don't think-"

"It has to be them!" Miko interjected. "The Family are the only ones with access to something that could create that kind of flux!" Family. That was our code for the Autobots. It's been years since they left. Well, more accurately, decades. I should probably explain.

Twenty years ago...

A few years after they brought us back home from Cybertron, and after we had all graduated, we began working at N-Tek since Unit E got shut down due to the government thinking that the 'cons were gone for good. N-Tek is a super secret organization devoted to protecting the world from extraterrestrial, and major threats that local forces weren't equipped to handle (of course they hired us! We were already experts on the subject!). We were done kicking butt and not dying for the day and had all gone back to the apartment we were sharing. There was a strange blue, somewhat Cybertronian looking being sitting at the kitchen table.

"Who are you?" Jack had asked, reaching for his blaster and stepping in front of us. He knew we didn't need protecting, but he did it anyways out of habit.

"I am Primus." the being had stated, and we all stared in shock. Miko, being herself (and still the exact same might I add), was the first to respond.

"You're Primus? Like, Cybertronian god of creation, big dude in Cybertron's core that died and we used Cyber-Matter to bring back to life?" she asked, pushing past Jack with wide eyes, almost completely flipping out with excitement.

"Yes," he replied, chuckling softly. He kind of sounded like Optimus, but, older and somehow, more experienced. His voice was kind and soft, but it also held so much ferocity that you knew that he could tear you apart without breaking a sweat if you got on his bad side. "I've come to thank you four for helping my children during the end of their war, and for helping them to restore life to both me, and Cybertron."

Before Miko could say something crazy, Raf responded. "It was no problem, really."

"Even so, I wish to give the four of you my blessing." he stood up and walked over to us. "If you will accept it." we all looked at each other, shocked, and nodded once, and turned back to Primus.

"We would be honoured," I told him.

He nodded in return, extended one hand and a beam of light shot out. It was pure white, with blue at the edges the same colour as his skin. It hit Miko, and she was engulfed in the same light as the beam. "Miko Nakadai, I gift you knowledge of Cybertronian weaponry, and the ability to summon your own version of the Apex Armour whenever you require it."

He finished speaking and moved the beam off of Miko, who continued to glow, and onto Raf. "Rafael Esquivel, I gift you knowledge of Cybertronian Biology, and the ability to generate Groundbridges whenever you need." It moved to Jack. "Jackson Darby, I gift you the wisdom of leadership,and the ability to phase through objects at will." Next, the beam moved to me. I was terrified, but bursting with excitement at the same time. "Helen Clay, I gift you flight, and the ability to sense Cybertronian life across the planet you inhabit." The beam of light engulfed me as well, and I felt like my skin was hardening and turning to metal. The weirdest thing though, was that it didn't hurt at all. It was as though my nerves had stopped working! Soon, my other senses and body functions began to shut down as well. I could no longer feel my body, but before I blacked out, I heard Primus say something.

"I wish you luck. You will need it."

I opened my eyes, aware that something was different, but not sure what. Then it all came rushing back. I sat up, and saw three human sized Autobots also awakening. They bore a striking resemblance to Jack, Miko, and Raf.

The one that looked like Miko was the first to grab her helm and speak. "Oh man, what the scrap just happened?"

Then I realized when I heard her voice, that the three 'bots didn't just look like Jack, Raf and Miko, they were them! I looked down at myself, and realizing that I was a bot as well! Before I could confirm my thoughts, Jack beat me to it.

"Miko? Raf? Helen? Is that actually you?" He asks, and stands up. We follow his lead.

"Who else?"

Present

So that's how we became human sized Cybertronians, and because of that, our life spans were greatly increased. So even now, 20 years later, we still look like we're 18. Act like it too! We also found out that we had a closer connection to our vehicles, which looked like our guardians when they left, it was almost as though we were one with the controls, which enabled us to be almost as good of drivers as the Autobots. Luckily though, we found out we could basically create a hologram around ourselves that made us look human.

~~

"Let's check it out." Jack, says as the light turns green, and we turn and head out of the city to find it.

On Cybertron...

It's been years since we left Earth. Twenty, to be exact. Twenty years since I last saw Helen, Miko, Jack and Raf. Helen, my charge. My crazy, strong, and adrenaline loving charge. I miss them s-

"Smokescreen!" Ratchet yells at me, "Stand back, I'm about to activate the spacebridge!"

Now that Cybertron is well on its way to being completely rebuilt, and there are no threats to worry about, we can finally visit!

The spacebridge powers up, and swirling green vortex is stabilized, and ready to take us to Earth.

"Race you guys there!" I say and transform, driving full throttle into the portal.

[thecreativeseries]

How Moving to New Zealand Healed Me and Made Me More Creative

It’s about time I wrote this eulogy reciting how moving to New Zealand healed my soul and made me a more creative person.

New Zealand called me when I was seven years old and I finally heeded that call in 2017. My heart expands every day I live in this wondrous corner of the world, and I’ll have you know that I cried writing this piece.

It’s fair to say I was disenchanted by the world soon after I graduated university. A bundle of unresolved trauma and a fast-paced corporate life left my soul dehydrated, and I could sense I didn’t belong.

Though unidentified at the time, I was headed down a dark path of nihilism. My mind was an endless fountain of existential questions and for every one I couldn’t answer, anxiety spiked at the core of me. I knew I was careening toward some drastic decision. And that scared me.

Sure enough, one day, in the throes of a depression spiral… I bought a one-way ticket to New Zealand.

And below is a list of New Zealand peculiarities I thrashed and fought against, then eased into as my perception of the world changed.

How Moving to New Zealand Healed Me and Made Me More Creative

1. Slow Living

Kiwi culture functions on a value system of slow, leisurely living.

And I had just come from the US, where everyone and everything around me was in some headlong arbitrary competition. That suited me fine of course, as I had a lot to run away from. It’s no surprise to me now why I struggled with mental health. My soul was screaming and somewhere along the way I pressed the mute button.

This didn’t work in New Zealand. People weren’t willing to work as hard or as fast as me. They valued work-life balance and enjoyed their time off.

I learned quickly that rigid structure doesn’t work here. Neurotic planning and highly anxious energy doesn’t work here.

Particularly when I fell in love with a Kiwi boy, my lifestyle had to change. When I had a day planned with chores and obligations, he opted to go to the beach. And it was maddening.

I felt I was living inside a languid bubble and no matter how I strained and pushed, it refused to pick up the pace.

And you know what happens when people like me are forced to slow down? Their demons catch up with them.

I did not accept my new lifestyle with grace. It cracked me open and all my contents fell out and I screamed at the gods and at the mess of my soul.

And although it was horrid and ugly and terrifying, it was exactly what I needed. When we’re in pain, we seek what brings us comfort, old forgotten passions that often take us down creative pathways. For me, it was writing.

Days of nothing gave me great anxiety and I rekindled my writer’s craft, gushing all my angst onto paper. It was profoundly healing and I haven’t stopped since. Reuniting with my vocation gave me great joy and I shudder at the years spent without it.

Busyness kills creativity and mutes the soul. And I live in a place that forbids it.

2. Nature

Of course nature is on here. New Zealand is a stunner, from north to south.

After moving here, I was in a constant state of annoyance at the lack of big, bustling cities. In the US, my list of locations was desk, pub, and bed. And my idea of a good time was shopping, fancy hotels, and stumbling around in a drunken stupor at 3am.

Don’t get me wrong, I still love those things. But for a long time, I didn’t really “get” nature. I never noticed the sun. I didn’t care if it rained nor understood why it mattered which direction the wind blew.

My partner took me everywhere and I knew it was beautiful but I had no emotions about it.

Overtime, and coupled with slow living, my mind started to stretch. I was curious about that flickering sense of peace when I found myself dwarfed by trees or mountains.

Nature’s expansiveness made me realize that there’s a world outside this cage I built of stress and aimless ambition. I lived with chronic despair that nothing ever felt enough. But in the natural world, that plane doesn’t exist. In the natural world, we’re reminded that we’re small and all the things we’re trying to “climb” are an illusion.

No matter how I tortured myself with fabricated problems, the mountain still stood, the trees swayed, and water carved pathways into the earth. This was huge for me. I’m learning to carry nature with me, to call on its stillness when life disguises itself as complicated.

Most importantly, I found answers to my existential questions.  We’re alive to grow, enjoy the weather, and maintain balance within our ecosystem.

Clearing the mind did wonders for my creativity and I ache for nature constantly now.

I want my feet in rivers and my skin tasting of salt. I want to feel inconsequential at the base of a mountain. And I still want to stumble drunk… but on empty beaches with milky moonlight shimmering on the sea.

3. Humanity in Government and National Initiatives

This may seem like an odd one but bear with me. I say this all the time: I have a lot of angst about the world. I work in Government, follow politics closely, and know what I stand for.

And doing that in the States was… exhausting. Disclaimer that I love the US very much. My family still live there and it will always be my second home. But the polarizing nature of its politics is a plague. It seems to me “the best country in the world” doesn’t realize its progress has been halted by broken systems.

Corruption goes unchecked and I lived there in a cloud of cynicism, aching for racial, gender, and climate justice.

When I moved to New Zealand, I realized how the US has fallen behind.

National initiatives for conservation impressed me, and this is now one of my biggest values as deduced from the section above. And the mere acceptance that there is systemic bias against the Māori, New Zealand’s indigenous people, has put the country on a path toward national healing. That’s something the USA still hasn’t managed to do.

Of great import to me, mental health has been prioritised by the New Zealand Government. And during the COVID-19 crisis, I watched our leader say, “We’re a team of 5 million” and yes that healed me. It eased the cynicism in my soul, sparked a candle of hope.

When people find common ground, they’re invigorated to participate in their communities toward positive change.

I experienced this in my professional life, when my work saw communities united after the Christchurch mosque shootings and White Island volcanic eruption and found creative solutions for recovery and solidarity.

True happiness is found when we contribute to society’s betterment. New Zealand is small enough that it’s not hard to make a difference, and finding creative solutions which led to healed communities was more moving than I ever could’ve imagined.

4. Entrepreneurship

The entrepreneurship culture in New Zealand is rampant. A simple stroll down the street will showcase adoration for small family-run businesses. For someone who loves supporting her local community, the lack of big corporations is a breath of fresh air.

And it changed everything.

As the saying goes, “you are the average of the 5 people you spend the most time with”. I went from having zero access to entrepreneurs to being engulfed by creatives running their own business.

This change was a slow-burn and I resisted it for a long time. Having been raised under a corporate lifestyle, I had a head full of lies and they made all my decisions. Work, because it’s what you’re alive for. Climb the corporate ladder. Make more money. It’s the only thing that matters.

I considered entrepreneurship in the past, but being risk averse, I waved it off as a fairy tale. My spirit wilted, dismissing my dream of becoming a writer, of traveling the world.

But meeting other entrepreneurs was surreal. These weren’t privileged socialites with a specific set of skills, as I previously thought this was the type of character who started a business. They were ordinary folk who call expertly on their creativity and discipline. 

My partner, an entrepreneur himself, told me that all the resources we need are at our fingertips and the key to achieving our dreams is simple: persistence.

He was patient with me, bless his soul. And the more my longing grew, the closer I circled to yet another drastic decision. Until one day, I jumped.

And here I am, writing into a blog.

Through writing, I get to be creative every day. I write to cope with the light and dark of my soul, forever at war. I write to make others feel less alone. I write because it’s the only thing I can control in a universe of vitriol.

Through writing, I’m learning what it is to be happy because it’s not something I’ve been taught. And because of my new little business, I seek life so I have something to write about. 

I run naked into ocean waves, sleep under canopies, and rage about the world with beautiful friends. Finally safe and dreaming out loud in New Zealand, I re-acquaint myself with my unmuted soul.

Today’s Tunes: Saturn by Sleeping At Last

[satorisa]

Lift the Veil - Chapter 14:  Thnks fr th Mmrs

Rating: T

Summary: After living in Tokyo for the past six years, she decides to head back to Azumano to escape the big city. However, she now has to face everything that she tried to flee from all those years ago. How exactly will she fare when the pages of a long forgotten book start turning once more?

Alternate links for reading available in my description! (Except for on ff.net rn since I’m having technical difficulties uploading it onto there.)

What better way to ring in the new year than with yet another Lift the Veil chapter! Here’s to (almost) new beginnings for our two main characters.

We are one, I repeat, one chapter away from the next arc of this story! So stay tuned for the tonal shift this story will take once we get there!

Happy readings, ya’ll!

Chapter 14 – Thnks fr th Mmrs

And I want these words to make things right, but it’s the wrongs that make the words come to life.

Alone. In my apartment. With way too much food for me to finish without puking it all up, too much alcohol for me to be around in such an emotionally precarious state, and an overwhelming understanding that I shouldn’t be in this situation any longer than I need to be.

I called Ritsuko first, half hoping she would pick up and half hoping she wouldn’t. She answered after the second ring.

“Hey, Risa! I thought you were busy with Riku and Daisuke’s return.”

“I was.”

“Your ‘was’ is worrying me.”

I take a deep breath. “Can you come by? Please.”

“Yeah! Yeah—let me just finish up something first, and I’ll head over as soon as I can. Can you hang in there until then?”

“I’ll try.”

“Okay, Risa, now you’re really worrying me.” I heard movement from her line. “Do you need me to bring you anything?”

“Just empty Tupperware. Please take home some of the food I have here.”

“Gotcha. Just wait for me, alright?”

“Alrighty. Thank you.”

“Always, hun.”

We hung up, and I stared at my phone. Ritsuko would be enough, right? I scrolled through my contacts until I saw Takeshi’s name. Did I need him over? Could he even be over? And what about Akane? Would she—

ACHOO.

The sneeze cut my deliberations short as I accidentally pressed the button to call him. And, after my round of sneezes ended, I heard a faint voice blessing me from my phone. I brought it to my ear, realizing it’d be too late to hang up now.

“Hey, Boss, are you feeling alright?” he asked with genuine concern.

The words rolled around in my head, like bingo balls bouncing around in their cage. I could say yes, effectively putting an end to this conversation and just dump everything onto Ritsuko. Takeshi would tease me for days about this call, but—

“No. I’m not.”

There was silence until I heard a muffled voice that sounded too high to belong to Takeshi. Akane?

“Akane’s asking if you need anything.”

“Just bring some empty containers. I have too much food here. ”

“Awesome!” I hear noise muffling the line.  “I’ll be on my way soon.”

“You don’t—”

“Nope. Nu-uh. I don’t want to hear it, Risa. I’m going to be over soon, and there’s nothing you can do about it, okay?”

“…okay.”

“Okay? Good. I’ll see you in a bit.”

He hung up, and I looked at my phone resting in my lap. Ritsuko and Takeshi were heading to my apartment to comfort me after Riku blew up because she found out about Satoshi. In other words, the world was going to explode in my face, and there was nothing I could do about it.

If I could help it, I wouldn’t tell them, but the secret was out. Knowing Riku, she’d intentionally blab about it until she finally came to terms with it. Which probably won’t be until after she’s razed Azumano to cinders. Besides, I’d rather they hear this from me than her. Better from the primary source, after all.

Dammit, Kazama. I really didn’t want to cross this bridge this soon. (Hopefully, this won’t bring that ugly mug of his back to Azumano again, either.)

Some time had passed as I sat there, unmoving, unable to process anything, slowly decaying with each breath I took until I heard them. They didn’t need to ring my doorbell. Ritsuko and Takeshi’s angry voices carried through the walls of my living room.

I sighed before getting up to open the door. And, sure enough, I peeked out into the hallway to see them a couple of units down. I glared.

“You guys better get in here before I throw out all my food.”

“This is your fault, Fukuda!” Takeshi screamed.

“My fault? Let me remind you that—”

I closed my door, mentally readying myself for any potential noise complaints as I returned to my spot on the sofa. When I heard them finally knock on my door, preluded by sweet silence, I let them in.

“Friendly reminder that I do have neighbors so please, for the love of God, keep it down. Thank you!”

“Yes ma’am!”

Ritsuko, still having not seen my place, gave herself a tour while Takeshi stood by the food, silently deliberating on what he’d take back with him.

“Sorry I couldn’t help you move in!” Ritsuko called from my bedroom.

“No worries! How was your business trip to Sapporo?”

“Honestly? I’d rather have suffered at the hands of moving stress than what I dealt with there.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Ritsuko eventually finished and closed my bedroom door behind her. She sat on the sofa, and Takeshi joined her on the opposite end. They looked up at me, expecting and scrutinizing, and I sat down in the space between them to keep them from fighting.

I felt my arms start to shake once I realized that there was no turning back once from this.

“So, what’s up?” Ritsuko asked.

“Just…give me a bit.”

She nodded as I took a couple of deep breaths to calm myself down. They didn’t really help though; they were only delaying the inevitable.

 I took one last deep breath.

“…I was Hiwatari’s friend with benefits in high school. And he ghosted me a month before we graduated.”

They balked. Ritsuko quickly regained her composure, but Takeshi just looked like the world had suddenly turned upside down.

“I know we all had our suspicions, but…” Ritsuko couldn’t continue.

“Holy shit. Holy shit.” Takeshi paused. “This is what you were keeping from us? I knew it was bad because Satoshi was somehow always very specific yet very vague but—oh my god.”

“Who else knows?” Ritsuko asked.

“Some of the adults managed to piece it together, and I thought that Hiwatari-san kept it to himself like me…until he told me that Daisuke found out.”

Ritsuko looked at me in horror. “Oh no.”

“So guess who told Riku while being drunk out of their mind on their trip to Zurich?”

“No.”

“Yup.”

Takeshi groaned. “Daisuke, buddy, I love you, but how the hell could you pull a Satoshi with the last person on Earth you should’ve blabbed it to?”

“’Pull a Satoshi?’ What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Fukuda, I don’t know if you’ve had the—ah—displeasure of drinking with Satoshi, so let’s just say that he has no filter when he’s gone. One time, he said…er…”

“’Er?’” Ritsuko repeated.

Takeshi looked at me. “I don’t know if I can share this.”

“After Risa’s statement? You could literally tell me the world is ending tomorrow, and it would still pale in comparison.”

Takeshi bit his lip. “Well, since it involved Risa, I suppose I can. Just brace yourself. Please.” He then directed his attention towards Ritsuko. “You didn’t hear this from me, Fukuda.”

“Just. Spit. It. Out.”

“Risa, um, I don’t know if he told you this already, but he was practically in love with you in high school.”

Ritsuko gasped. “What?”

“Oh, I know. He told me in Vienna.”

“What?”

Ritsuko looked so distraught compared to Takeshi, but he was probably only taking this marginally better because he knew more about the situation. And since I already had enough time for me to decently process everything, I was faring the best out of the three of us. How funny that the ones I called to keep me company while I was distressed are the ones left even more distressed by the situation.

“Okay, okay,” Ritsuko said. “I understand why you didn’t tell us about it, but I don’t understand how or why this happened.”

“Fukuda, get with the program here!”  I felt her glare, directed at Takeshi, pierce through me. “There was nothing to be done here.”

“Bull. Shit.” I winced. “They both loved each other; therefore, they cared about each other. If they really cared enough, then they probably wouldn’t have ended up in this mess in the first place.”

“That was their problem: caring about each other.”

Being stuck in the middle of this felt like the personification of what was once my mental state. Their increasing volume, directed at my eardrums, really wasn’t making this any more pleasant than when it was contained in my mind.

“They would’ve found some way to talk it out then. What, did they not trust each other or something?”

“Bingo.”

Ritsuko stopped arguing, and an expression of bemusement erased the frustration from earlier.

“Risa, explain.”

“I…don’t think it’s my right to explain. Well, not for him anyway. Maybe ask Takeshi later if you’re so curious. Or ask Hiwatari out for coffee sometime and get it from the man himself.” I forced a laugh. “Trusting people is hard when you’ve gone through stuff, you know?”

Understanding what I was implying, Ritsuko nodded. I saw tears bead at the corner of her eyes, and she excused herself to my bathroom, leaving me and Takeshi left on the sofa.

“How’re you holding up?” I asked him.

“I honestly don’t know how I’m still keeping it together right now,” Takeshi hollowly laughed. “I know more about it than most people, but I’m still in shock about it. I get why it happened, but like, Satoshi’s the most logical person I know, so it’s just difficult for me to wrap my head around how he could let this train wreck occur.” He sighed. “God, considering how awful I’m feeling now, I can’t even begin to fathom how you two must’ve felt about the whole thing.”

“You can empathize?” I joked, if only to relieve the tension in the room.

“Boss, why do you gotta be like this now? I’m trying not to cry here!”

“Don’t you dare shed any of your tears in front of me.”

He retreated into my bedroom. Moments later, Ritsuko sat down next to me with puffy eyes and a red nose. She offered me a weak smile.

“If anyone should be crying, it should be me,” I said.

“Oh, can it. You want to cry, but you can’t, so you’re making all of us get dehydrated for you.”

“Crap! You’ve foiled my evil plan!”

Ritsuko laughed, and I smiled. Honestly, I was too numb to feel much of anything. Just having Riku find out the last thing I ever wanted to know about and barreling into my apartment with murderous intent was traumatic enough to shock the emotions out of me.

“Honestly though, I was so scared to tell anyone, especially you guys. What if you said that I couldn’t feel the way that I felt because I needed to be mindful of what Hiwatari-san when through? Or took sides, whether mine or his? I couldn’t deal with that.”

“Like Riku?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I get where she’s coming from. Even though I’m understanding of the situation, that doesn’t mean I’m not angry. There’s a lot going on here, and a lot I don’t understand, but I can see why you didn’t tell anyone back then, right? They’d tell you to cut him off, unaware of the baggage you two carry, and it would’ve just made you feel even worse about the situation, right?”

I nodded.

“Well, Saehara and I are adults who aren’t your family. And we’re also his friend. What you’ve said here won’t change anything regarding our relationship with him. Likewise, what he says about you when I ask him about it won’t change the fact that you’re an amazing person that I’m proud to call one of my best friends.”

“Ritsuko!” I pulled her into a hug that she returned.

“After everything that happened, this is what makes you tear up? God, you’re hopeless!”

I laughed, wiping my tears away as I let her go. Takeshi returned, looking like he had taken a trip through the seven layers of hell, but he grinned before sitting back down on the sofa.

We spent the evening digging into some of the food while watching a movie since I had done more than enough talking. And once they left, bags filled with Tupperware and wine, I retreated to my bedroom and collapsed on my bed.

I turned to the music box sitting on the nightstand, winding it up before floating away to dreamland.

…

I woke up the next morning, before my alarm clock would shock me awake or the sun would burn the inside of my eyelids, to my phone ringing. Most people wouldn’t think to bother anyone at this time but, cracking an eye open to look at the caller ID, he wasn’t most people.

“What?” I croaked, irritated that he needed me for whatever reason that warranted a call at this time of day.

“Good morning to you, too.” I could hear the smile in his voice. Damn bastard was enjoying this. “How are you faring from last night?”

“What do you mean?”

“Leaving you alone with all those bottles of wine after what happened yesterday? It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together; you’re probably hungover.”

“I am a perfectly functional human being who has other coping mechanisms besides drowning myself in alcohol.”

“Past experiences say otherwise.”

“I didn’t drink at all last night; I have Takeshi, and Ritsuko as my witnesses.”

Hiwatari fell silent on the other end of the line while I stretched awake, putting my phone on speaker as I got up. While I was making my bed, Hiwatari spoke up.

“So they know now.”

“I’d rather they didn’t hear from Riku, so I told them first. Sorry to tell them so soon.”

“It’s fine.” He paused. “Should I be expecting attempts on my life now?”

“Nope. They took it well, surprisingly. They might give you a hard time because of it, but no one wants you dead. I think.”

After smoothing out my sheets, I admired my handiwork before grabbing my phone and heading to the kitchen for some breakfast. “Anyways, why’d you call?”

“Partly to check up on you in case you were hungover, but I was wondering if you’d be okay with me walking you to the news station today.”

“…really? You called me this early in the morning for that?”

“I’d rather not be greeted by your choice designer handbag of the day in my face.”

“Who said I’m still not going to do that?”

“Damn. I thought this would lessen my chances.” I could hear the lilt in his voice, and I couldn’t help but smile. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing okay though.”

“I’m about as okay as I’m going to be considering. Thank you for your concern, though.”

“It’s no problem. And could you also open your door, please? This bag is quite heavy, and it might become a problem for me if I keep standing here holding it.”

My usual alarm rang and, startled, I frenzied over to my front door. I swung it open to see Hiwatari standing there, convenience store bag in hand, with unveiled derision on his face.

“…actually, seeing you fresh from bed might be a greeting worse than a purse smashing my face. Tokyo has not been kind to your skin.”

“Get inside before I smash your face with that bag in your hands.”

…

“So, how’s the engaged couple?” Takeshi asked before unceremoniously slurping his noodles and splashing some of his broth onto shirt as if he didn’t just ask a loaded question. He couldn’t be this obtuse considering what just happened.

“Why don’t you ask Daisuke yourself?” Hiwatari asked.

“After what happened when they got back? I’d rather not deal with Beauty and the Beast.”

“And you thought we would have the answer to your question?”

“Maybe not the Boss, but I’m sure you’ve got something, Chief. Gimme the deets.”

“Riku’s out for my head; Daisuke’s trying to protect it: the usual. I have nothing else to report.”

Takeshi groaned. “Useless! It’s like you want me to die in the lion’s den.”

“I’m sure an unsuspecting fly like you will survive just fine.”             

And with that, Hiwatari started eating his noodles, effectively direction his attention away from Takeshi and cleanly cutting that conversation short. Thus, I was the next victim of his poor attempt at small talk. “So, Boss, how’s the ramen?”

“Beautiful,” I answered, eyes trained on the wisps of steam coming from my untouched ramen. I noted the sheen of the broth on the noodles peeking out, following the fat bubbles gently floating amongst the green onions.

“Er, that’s not—”

My phone rang, and I looked at my phone to see a text from Riku asking to meet up for dinner later. Considering what had just happened, I didn’t think it would go well, but this was my sister. As hesitant and terrified I was, I wanted to put this behind us as quickly as possible.

“Whozzat?” Takeshi asked when I put my phone down after sending out my reply. He slurped down yet another ungodly amount of noodles, and I tried to conceal my disgust.

Akane scored in the relationship department. Truly.

“Riku. She asked to meet up with her later, so that’s what I’ll be doing instead of enjoying the comforts of my bed.”

Takeshi whistled, shaking his head, before returning to his bowl. “Don’t die, Boss.”

“I’ll try not to; no guarantees.”

I then decided to dig into my bowl, truly savoring my first bite. May this feeling prevail during dinner.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Hiwatari asked, voice laced with concern.

“Yeah. What could possibly go wrong?”

Takeshi and Hiwatari looked up from their bowls with their eyebrows raised. Hiwatari’s skeptical expression, paired with Takeshi’s eyes that begged me to rethink my words, helped me realize that I was only fooling myself. My sister was a human, but she was a Harada. And, considering that we have practically the same blood, I knew the insanity that could arise from it.

No doubt, were this situation reversed, I wouldn’t have stopped until I had the head of whomever hurt my sister roasted on a spit.

“Okay. Fine. Everything can and probably will go wrong.”

“It was nice knowing ya, Boss.”

“Let’s relish in our last meal together before your premature death.”

“Oh, go f—”

“Irasshai!”

…

“God speed!” Takeshi saluted. I returned the gesture.

“We’re here for you if you need us later,” Hiwatari assured.

“Hopefully, I’ll be fine. And I’ll just bother Ritsuko if I need someone. You guys have done more than enough by walking me here.”

“What’re friends for? We gotta see you before you march to your death!” Takeshi chirped.

“Really?”

“Boss, your sister is terrifying.”

“Don’t mind him,” Hiwatari said. “Good luck.”

I nodded, waving goodbye to them as they walked away. And once they started talking to each other a considerable distance away, I took a deep breath before walking in. This was Riku’s favorite place to grab sushi, and I saw her standing by the hostess’ stand, a couple of minutes earlier than what we had planned, as she nervously toyed with a stray thread on her blouse. She noticed me and smiled before turning to the hostess, who greeted us with a blinding smile, as she led us to a booth with two menus in her hand.

Why the booth of all places? The bar was ideal: I wouldn’t have to face Riku, I could occupy myself by staring at the chef, focus on anything and everything but—

“Can I have a beer and a highball?” Riku ordered once our waiter came by. He then turned to me, expecting, just like the sister that sat across from me.

“Just some green tea, please.”

The water nodded, heading off to grab our drink and attend to the other patrons, leaving me to watch Riku flip through the menu. (She didn’t need to. Her staple was the combo of maki rolls.)

“Do you know what you want to eat?” she calmly asked me as if she wasn’t radiating anger and didn’t just order alcohol.

I was not making it out alive.

“Um, I’ll just have some ebi and tamago nigari.”

“You usually order something extravagant. Don’t be shy; it’s my treat.”

It’s precisely because this is your treat which is why I’m being shy. As susceptible as I am to free food, this was a gift horse I needed to burn. “It’s okay. I had ramen, and I’m still kind of full.”

“Huh,” she hollowly said. “Didn’t think your appetite could ever be quenched.”

And the crocodile snaps!

Before she prematurely exploded, the waiter returned to our table with our drinks. Riku ordered for us before the waiter headed off. I moved my drink closer to me, unable to enjoy the warmth in my hands as she downed her beer. I expected her to polish off that highball, but she called a waiter passing by, asking him to for a gin and tonic. Once he left, she grabbed her other drink that she finished in seconds before slamming the glass on the table and staring straight into my eyes.

In any other situation, this would’ve been a great time to ask what college shenanigans Riku got herself into considering what she did took skill, and we could laugh about all the ill-timed hangovers and nostalgia over a nice sushi dinner. This was me trying to imagine this as anything but what it actually was: terrifying.

“Honestly, Risa, what the hell were you thinking getting involved with Satoshi like that?” she asked, more disappointed than angry. “You should’ve known that was a bad idea.”

“Yes because I was able to rationalize while I was sick with the flu and the guy I thought would never love me kissed me.”

She groaned, reaching for her drinks. And when she found them both empty, she groaned again before slamming the empty glass on the table. Again. “If I wasn’t drinking right now, I wouldn’t be able to stomach your bullshit excuses.”

“Yeah, you’re right. All I’ve really got are bullshit excuses for what happened.” I paused our conversation when our water returned, drink in hand, as he placed it in front of Riku. I flinched as she reached out for it, scared she would down it again, but she merely took a sip. She looked at me when she finished, expecting me to elaborate. “I took the opportunity because I knew Hiwatari would—could—never accept my affections.”

“Do you know why he stopped talking to you and tried to erase you from his existence?”

“Did you know about it before Daisuke told you?”

“Not the specifics, but like everyone else, we knew something happened between you two back then. I thought the six years apart would’ve smoothed it out since you tend to over-exaggerate everything but—god. I didn’t think it was this bad.” She sighed before having another sip of her drink. “Are you guys stupid enough to think that getting closer would fix this?”

I shrugged. “Apparently.”

“You two are insane.”

“Just like what you’re being right now.”

She glared at me with a red face as the alcohol settled into her system. “I have every right to after hearing everything from Daisuke. Do you need me to—?”

“I know, Riku. Hiwatari-san told me himself.”

The rage in her expression fizzled out as she stared at me with wide eyes. Was this the ammunition she was waiting to use to get me to listen to her? Was she hoping that this would end it all?

“Y-you need to leave Azumano and get away from Satoshi,” she started. “This closeness can’t be good for you two. I-I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Tears formed at the corner of her eyes, and she furiously wiped them away. Were those her true feelings hiding behind that animosity of hers? Or was it the alcohol causing her emotions to swing?

“I’m calling Daisuke to bring you home now.”

“No! I’m—”

“I’m calling him.”

She didn’t protest. She just sat in her seat, silently sipping on her drink while I headed out to call Daisuke. I returned to see Riku’s head resting on the table.

Passed out or asleep?

Daisuke came by pretty quickly, and I spotted him, completely flustered, as he approached our table.

“Oh, god, Risa. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Just make sure she gets home safe.”

He nodded, hoisting her up on his shoulder. I expected him to leave immediately, maybe whispering something under his breath, but he just stood by the table.

“About Riku finding out…sorry. I accidentally slipped up by saying something, and Riku kept pestering me about it and—”

“It’s fine. Just go.”

And with that, Daisuke left. The waiter then came, food in hand, wondering where my sister went. I told him not to worry about it, saying to just leave the food there and get me the check ASAP.

“Risa?”

I looked up to see my parents hovering at the edge of my table. They were excited to see me, but what were they doing here?

“Where’s your sister?” my mother asked as my dad slipped into the booth across from me.

“Home. She ended drinking a little too much, so I asked Daisuke to take her back home.”

My mom gasped before sitting down next to my dad. “Oh my, goodness. Is she alright?”

“I hope so. What brings you two here?”

“Actually, Riku was the one who asked us to come.”

“Why?”

My mom shrugged. “She said she’d explain it to us here. Do you know what she wanted to talk to us about?”

“No clue,” I feigned. The longer I kept my parents unaware of this, the better I’d feel. No way did I want to deal with the wrath of three Haradas at any given time. “You two help yourselves. My treat.”

“Thank you,” my father grumbled, cautiously eyeing the half empty drink Riku left, taking a sip of it, and slowly moving it towards him, before looking through the menu.

“Are you going to eat that?” My mom motioned to the maki set that Riku ordered. I shook my head, and she happily dug in.

I had a feeling the next time I met them, they would be hostile. So I enjoyed this brief moment, getting along with my parents for once and hoping it would never end.

…

Once I was at the news station the next morning, my phone started vibrating like crazy. My mom was sending frantic messages about Riku waking up with a headache, asking me if I was sure that she was okay. Riku certainly was far from okay, but I didn’t want to aggravate this already precarious situation so, like any responsible adult, I lied to my mom by telling her that Riku was having so much fun last night that she wasn’t pacing herself well before silencing my phone and stuffing it into the deep recesses of a pocket in my purse that I zipped up.

“Good morning, Harada-san,” the security guard greeted when I approached the elevators. “There’s someone looking for you.”

“Where are they?”

“Upstairs. I led them to your cubicle.”

“You just…let them in like that?”

“He showed me proper ID, but I can’t seem to recall his name. He just told me that he has official business with you.”

“…and you’re sure that it’s not Commissioner Hiwatari?”

“I’d recognize him anywhere, so it’s not him.”

“Okay. Thank you?”

He offered me a smile that I hesitantly returned before walking past him, mentally noting that we might need a personnel change for safety measures. Who could possibly need to have an official meeting with me and come by unannounced?

…oh shit.

Once the elevator landed on my floor, I rushed to my cubicle. There Kazama sat, leaning back in my desk chair with a mug of coffee in his hands, animatedly chatting with Takeshi who looked ready to keel over. Poor guy having to deal with him so early in the morning.

“And so—oh! Harada-san! The woman of the hour! You’ve kept me waiting!”

“And you’ve entertained Takeshi enough. Let him get back to work.”

As Takeshi passed by me, he patted my shoulder. I expected a look of gratitude of relief on his face, but he looked like he was on the verge of tears. “You’re a saint for saving me, Boss, but the Chief’s going to kill me for coming into the precinct so late.” He rushed out before I could even offer him words of consolation for the predicament this dickhead had put him in.

“It’s to be expected that a Hiwatari knows how to crack the ol’ whip every now and then!” Kazami chirped as I loudly dropped my stuff onto my desk. He was unfazed by the noise, but a couple of my neighbors peeked over the walls of my cubicle, wondering if they could get a glimpse at what had pissed me off first thing in the morning.

“So, what brings you here?” I ask, sitting down in a chair I reserved for guests because of Kazama’s snooty ass lavishly lounging in my comfortable one.

“That’s a rhetorical question, isn’t it?”

“Look, I know why you’re here, but couldn’t this have waited until I finished work for the day? Also, don’t you have super important cases to win back in Tokyo?”

“They’re not as important as getting some much needed R&R.” I scoff at his comment. “And am I not allowed to say hello to my favorite Harada?”

I wince at his words. “You’re not. I have work to do, and you’re bothering me right now, so you need to leave.”

“Not even a please? Goodness, whatever happened to treating your elders with manners?”

“Look,” I started in English, hoping my coworkers would have trouble understanding me, “my job already pisses me off enough, and I don’t need you to add onto that stress, okay? So if you could just lay off until this evening, that’d be great.”

Kazama whistled. “Amazing accent, Harada-san! I expected nothing less from a Todai graduate.”

I glared at him, and he stood up and gathered his things. “I’ll see you at Satoshi’s place for dinner, then?”

“If you’re cooking, I’ll pass.”

He chortled, knowing that I enjoyed his cooking far too much to miss out on it, and he left without another word. As I settled into my seat, I saw the peering eyes disappear in my peripheries. While I got myself ready for yet another day of work, I heard the murmurs of my coworkers as they concocted yet another rumor to spread about me.

Don’t these people have anything better to do than waste their time on the train wreck of my life?

…

As usual, Hiwatari met up with me outside the news station after the broadcast finished. We didn’t talk much on the way to his apartment, but we dropped by a bakery and grabbed a cake.

When we arrived, we were greeted by a lovely smell coming from the kitchen. Hiwatari greeted Kazama while I sat down at the table, admiring the cake through the flimsy plastic window on the box. All I had to do was survive an amazing dinner with not-so-amazing company, and then I could indulge in this beauty.

After talking to Kazama, Hiwatari headed into his room. He came out in yet another pair of ratty pajamas before slipping into the seat next to me.

“Have you talked to Daisuke yet?” I asked.

“No. It’s—I can’t bring myself to see him. I’m upset that he told Riku, but I’m mostly ashamed that it had come to this.” I nodded. “How was your talk with Riku last night?”

“She got super plastered, passed out at the table, and I had to call Daisuke to pick her up. She couldn’t last long enough to tell my parents about it.”

“Your parents?”

“Yeah. She was planning on telling them while half delirious under the influence of alcohol. Luckily, they didn’t find out, but I don’t know how long they’ll be kept in the dark about this.”

“Oh, juicy stuff!” Kazama interjected. He placed steaming hot plates of food in front of us, and it looked like he cooked extra for me to take home. “So, the older sister knows and is planning on making it worse by involving your parents?”

“Well, they have every right to know, but I’d rather they not.”

Kazama’s laugh trailed off as he went into the kitchen. He returned with two cans of beer, placing one in front of me, before plopping into one of the empty seats and opening his can.

“None for you, Big Boy. It’s what got you into this mess in the first place.” He took a sip. “Ah, that’s the stuff!”

For the most part, dinner went smoothly Hiwatari and Kazama rambled on about politics while I savored my food. When we finished, Hiwatari vehemently insisted that he do the dishes, leaving me and Kazama in the living room, crowded around the TV softly playing a rerun of an old drama, while Kazama cut the cake.

“For you, madam,” he joked as he passed me a slice of cake and a fork.

“Thank you, but shut up.”

When Hiwatari finished, he sat on the floor by Kazama. He helped himself to a slice of cake with a blank expression.

“So, the heart of the matter, you two,” Kazama started. “Run your next steps by me.”

“Jump off the cliffs and fall to our untimely deaths,” I grumbled before taking a bite of my cake.

Ah, how blissful.

“Seconded,” Hiwatari said.

“Ah-ah. The goal is to live, children. So, seriously, what is your plan?”

“Hope my parents never find out.”

“And if they do?”

“Die.”

“Harada-san! I trusted you to be stronger than this! What did you expect to happen as a consequence of your actions?”

“This. Exactly this. It’s just as bad as I envisioned it to be.”

Kazama laughed, clearly amused at our suffering, but he eventually calmed down. I expected him to say something absurd or rude to follow my statement, but he didn’t.

“You can’t control others, Harada-san. All you can do now is hang in there and take the punches.” Kazama paused. “Does your family normally react this extremely to these kinds of situations?”

“Yeah. They’ve always been over-protective, but I think it got worse after Argentine kidnapped me.”

Kazama didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned to Hiwatari and frowned. “Friendly reminder that this is your fault. I won’t protect you from whatever will come your way. Do you understand me?”

“Yes.”

“You need to accept that the family you found with the Haradas will change or disappear when they find out.”

Hiwatari’s lips thinned in a line. I didn’t know how dear Hiwatari held my family. Likewise, I didn’t know how fondly my parents thought of Hiwatari, either.

The thought of losing people never sat well for anyone, especially Hiwatari. I couldn’t imagine what he could be feeling right now.

“Well, since shit hasn’t completely hit the fan, you two should play it by ear.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “Well, it’s time for me to visit the Niwas! Can’t wait to see how divisive everyone will be! Toodles!”

The front door slammed shut, leaving me and Hiwatari with a half-eaten cake and the TV blaring some annoying advertisement. I moved towards him, concerned at his slumped body.

“So, how’d the thing with my parents happen?” I asked. “I’m genuinely curious; after all, they’re not the Niwas.”

“Because of Riku.”      

Hiwatari looked up and, after noticing the shock on my face, looked back down at the floor. “…you don’t know what happened?”

“This may or may not be news to you, but I also cut off contact with everyone in Azumano while I was in Tokyo.” I narrowed my eyes. “What happened to my sister?”

“After you left, she couldn’t leave her bed. She was nauseous, feverous, and could barely keep anything down.”

“What? Why?!”

“Apparently, whenever you two were separated for extended periods of time, Riku would always get sick.”

“Why is this my first time hearing about this? And from you of all people?”

“No one wanted you to worry. And you probably would’ve never found out if it weren’t for me. And this situation.”

“Okay, so what do you have to do with any of this?”

“When I heard about it from Daisuke, I decided to pay Riku and your family a visit. For whatever reason, they thought Riku’s condition was caused by some spiritual connection the two of you share because you’re twins.” Hiwatari frowned. “I don’t understand why you Haradas are so obsessed with mysticism.”

“You’re one to talk with that magical, artsy blood flowing in your veins.”

Hiwatari sighed before continuing. “It turns out that Riku was too anxious without you. Her brain was conditioned to think that the two of you being together meant that both of you were safe. So, whenever you were gone, she ended up worrying about both you and her.”

“What’d you do?”

“I told her you weren’t really gone. You were just living your life in Tokyo without much of a care in the world.”

“…I’m assuming that didn’t help.”

“Not at all.”

I laughed, and Hiwatari smiled before continuing. “Riku needed to learn how to live again for herself. So I made her exercise, go out with family and friends, and suffer through game night at the Niwas. I just needed to jumpstart her brain so that she wouldn’t crumble again when she returned to college.” 

“Returned to college?”

“She had to withdraw from college during her first semester after failing her first round of midterms.”

Our eyes met for a couple of seconds, and the shock initially on his face gave way to an expression of hurt. “Harada-san…”

“Continue, Hiwatari-san.”

“Are you sure?”

“Continue.”

He hesitated, and I watched him shift his posture slightly to buy him some time. His hand slid closer to me, unable to move any further: all he could offer at this moment was half-assed consolation, but it was the only thing we could mentally accept right now.

I slid mine closer, thankful for the gesture but too afraid to fully commit, and Hiwatari continued. “Since she wasn’t getting better, I had to coerce your parents into taking her to therapy. She improved from there, and she was able to go back to college the following year.”

“How did you get closer to my parents then?”

“A little while after I started coming over to help Riku, your mother, in true Risa fashion, had sat me down once with coffee and asked me to talk about myself. Honestly, I mostly just sat there in silence while she bombarded me with questions.” I laughed. “But, while one of her daughters was AWOL, the other one practically unresponsive, she still somehow managed to genuinely care about how I was doing.” He paused. “From there on, your parents somehow found a way to make me feel at home. They let me breathe in a way that the Niwas didn’t. Even though I had an inkling they did it to cope with what was going on with the two of you, I felt like that was how it felt to have parents.”

“Huh.”

Hiwatari only smiled. “Well, anyways, my uncle’s right; I only have myself to blame for this mess.” He then glanced at his phone. “And as much as I appreciate this intimate session of catching up, it’s late and we both have work tomorrow. It’s time for me to walk you back.”

“I’ll be fine. Thank you for the offer, though.”

“…I would insist but, after the conversation we just had, please accept me calling you a ride.”

“Thank you.”

Hiwatari packed enough food to last me a week and enough cake to fatten me up in two evenings. I stood by the door, putting on my shoes, and ready to go home and think.

“Harada-san.”

“Mhm?”

Hiwatari looked lost for once. “Your ride is here.”

“Thank you.”

“And I’m sorry.”

I laughed at his awful timing. My hand reached out to playfully punch him in the shoulder but, after seeing that somber expression on his face, I stopped myself. Only then did I realize the gravity of the situation.

“…your ride is about to leave.”

“Yes! Yes, I’ll see you around.”

When the door closed behind me, I sprinted down. The driver was feeling especially chatty for that trip, affording me a handful of minutes to not think about the shit storm waiting for us. And once they dropped me off at my apartment, it took me everything to not march to Mizuame de Noisette and have an evening full of regret.

I headed up to my room like a responsible adult and decided, instead, to pass out on my sofa, unable to fall asleep despite the tinny notes that usually lulled me to sleep.

…

Daisuke had sent me a message the next morning asking if I could meet with him at the museum café. I sent a message to the group chat I had with Takeshi and Hiwatari saying that I had other lunch plans that day and for them to enjoy their midday meal without me.

So, whilst eating a chicken club sandwich in a sterile museum café, Takeshi kept spamming the chat with the lunch menu from some upscale restaurant. I silenced my phone before tossing it into my purse and giving Daisuke my full attention. He was digging into a salad and wincing with each bite he took.

“Um…are you alright?”

“I need to start losing weight for the wedding.”

I blinked, examining Dasiuke’s lean body for any sign of fat. The man was barely filling out his clothes. What weight was he trying to lose here?

“Please don’t tell me you asked me to come over for solidarity during this time of suffering.”

“Oh no. I just wanted to let you know that Riku’s planning on telling your parents about what happened with you and Satoshi before she left for work later.”

I nearly squeezed the filling out of my sandwich.

“I also wanted to apologize, but I don’t think that’s going to help the situation.”

“Well, even though you’re right, I still accept your apology.” Daisuke nodded. “Actually, I’m kind of also here to ask about what happened with Riku after I left.”

Daisuke looked up from his sandwich in shock. “Satoshi told you?”

“Yeah. Why? What’s wrong?”

“Well, Riku kind of made us promise her to never tell you about it, but if Satoshi decided to tell you, I’m sure he had a good reason to break it then.”

“Is me asking about how he got close to my parents a good enough reason?”

“Considering the impending situation on our hands, I think so. Besides, I think it’s good that the truth is finally airing itself out even if it’s a little…hectic right now.”

“You’re the last person who should be saying that considering this mess is kind of your fault.”

Daisuke sheepishly smiled. “I suppose you’re right then.”

I watched him cringe through another bite of his salad, and I had half a mind to order the menu item with the largest calorie intake. My future brother-in-law shouldn’t have to suffer like this right after getting engaged.

“Well, I honestly don’t know if I can add onto whatever Satoshi already told you. Since I was in college at the time, I only saw Riku on the weekends. She called me a lot because Satoshi was brutal with her, but I don’t think that’s what you wanted to hear from me.

“I will say, even though I am your sister’s fiancé, I do think that she’s overstepping a boundary here. I understand that she’s hurt, but what she’s set out to do is probably going to cause more harm than good.” Daisuke smiled. “But there’s nothing we can do about that now. Once she’s like that, you know it’s impossible to stop her.”

Our talk had made me lose my appetite, and I left lunch with Daisuke earlier than I thought I would. Takeshi came into the news station that afternoon to gloat about his amazing lunch date with Satoshi, to which I didn’t pay much attention to considering I was more worried about what would occur later that day.

When I got a message from my dad around the time that Riku usually left for work, I knew it was over. I messaged Daisuke, requesting that he ask Kazama to grab a table at Mizuame de Noisette later, and I marched home for what may be one of the worst evenings of my life.

[dailyaudiobible]

04/28/2020 DAB Transcript

Today is the 28th day of April welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I’m Brian it’s great to be here with you today. Wow…just a couple more days left in this month. What an interesting month it has been. So, let's take the next step forward in the Scriptures. And today we will…well…we will continue the story of Gideon one of the judges of Israel and we’re reading from the book of Judges. So, this week we’re reading from the Common English Bible. Today Judges chapter 8 verse 18 through 9 verse 21.

Commentary:

Okay. So, I guess…I guess if there was like some sort of theme that would emerge from today's reading, it’s gotta be injustice. So, we concluded the story of Gideon the judge today and the way the story ends gives us significant clues into the times of the judges, like how things had become in Israel, how tribal it had become and disunified things had become. So, after this triumph over the Midianites they want Gideon to be their king, their supreme leader. He doesn't want it, doesn't want it for his family. He basically knows how it goes with Kings and trying to hold onto power at this time in the world. And, so, while Gideon is the judge for 40 more years than there’s peace around the land and soon as He dies then everyone begins to go back to worshiping Baal again. I mean Gideon had a big family, 70 sons. And one of his sons was a son from a concubine in Shechem. His name was Abimelech who was like basically, “you know, if my dad didn’t want to be king, I do.” Like, “and do you want 70 judges now. Gideon's dead. You want 70 judges, or do you want one king?” And the result is that all of Abimelech's brothers are murdered so that Abimelech has this claim. Like, you see how barbaric of a time this is.

But we can move forward a thousand years as we flip to the book of Luke and see that barbarity still exists because we’re seeing Jesus hanging from a cross, which is a very barbaric way to be executed, giving His life in so many ways to put an end that. And, you know, barbaric things still exist in our world today as we well know. So, just in today's reading along, we can look back thousands of years and see the state of mankind and zoom all the way through the New Testament and then get all the way to where we are today and see that the struggles just look different. They’re still heart issues. They’re still the problems that have always existed when we try to do life separate from God. So, whether it be from the Old Testament or the New Testament or from yesterday, when we drift, when we walk away and we turn to false comforters and walk the path that leads us away from the narrow path, then destruction does come, which is what Bible says. But…but Jesus removed the separation allowing us to unite with God. If there was ever a time for us to…like…for that to finally catch flame within us it's now.

Prayer:

Father, we invite you into that. We keep trying to trust you until what we see seems as if it's going in a different direction and so we take the reins back and trust ourselves when you are often counterintuitive. You often force us into a place of faith because it is perhaps like the most important…I don’t know…muscle that we need to be able to live in this world. And yet it’s the one we’re not continually exercising. It gets use when there’s no other choice. You're inviting us to flip that around and understand that faith is what leads us forward, our complete and utter trust in you for all things knowing that you are the author and finisher of our faith, that you are the author and finisher of our lives, and our lives with you never end. And, so, we get so obsessed about momentary things when there is forever together with you. Help us to have the eyes of faith today we ask in the name of Jesus our Savior. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website, its home base, its where you find out what’s going on around here.

There is another update to the app to the most recent additions which were a couple weeks ago, major update to the app. And, so, after week one, we kind of had sort of a game plan. I mean, when you release something, there's always gonna be something that goes wrong and like maybe 20% of people were experiencing some certain kinds of issues. So then dividing that in half got us another version out last week. And now there is another version, which is 1.1.70. And that should pretty much take care of just about all of the problems that we’ve seen crop up, some of those little pesky things like certain days not appearing or that kind of thing. Looks like we’ve got these issues mostly ironed out, which is pretty remarkable based on how much new technology was put into that last major update. So, yup, if you haven’t updated yet, update to the latest version of the app as we continue to grow and expand together.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible, thank you. That's how any of this is even happening. It's how there even is an app to update, that’s how there even is a website to go to, that's how there is…even is a Prayer Wall like, that we have been in this together for these years, day by day, step-by-step, just being faithful. And, so, thank you…thank you for your partnership. We wouldn’t be here if we weren't in this together. So, there's a link on the homepage at dailyaudiobible.com. If you're using the app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner or, if you prefer, the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement you can hit the Hotline button in the app, the little red button at the top or you can dial 877-942-4253.

And that is it for today. I’m Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

My DAB Family this is __ in __ Africa and I’m just phoning in to thank everyone who prayed today and just shared. It’s Friday the 24th of April. It touched my heart so, so much. This community is so authentic and so special because I personally don’t find this authenticity in churches. We are all so busy almost just walking around with a mask on and not…not being our true selves and not showing our brokenness and this community allows us to…to feel vulnerable and to phone in to…to share our hearts and that is that is real and that’s authentic, that is…it’s beautiful and I want to thank each and every one of you. I want to thank especially Saria. Thank you so much for phoning in. I’m so proud of you. You said you were proud of Brian and China. I’m proud of you that you’re listening to DAB at such a young age. You said your 10 ½. I think it’s so amazing and God loves you and I just want to encourage you to continue listening. It was so wonderful to hear your voice and just, yeah, I love you and just take care of yourself and…and stay in God’s word. And just thank you again Brian and the whole Hardin family. Thank you for your love. Thank you for your faithfulness and doing this every day. You’re helping people in ways you can even begin to imagine. I just thank you so much and God bless all of you.

Good afternoon family it is Friday the 24th of April and it is the first day of Ramadan. So, yeah, let’s pray. Father God thank You so much that we can come together and pray for…and pray for all things but to pray for Muslims, that we can be united to this, that we are the body of Christ and that we be brought together in unity so that the world will know the love of Christ because of how it’s displayed in us. Father God, thank You for all of the Muslims who have relationships with Christians whether they be neighbors, friends, work colleagues. Thank You, Lord that those links exist, and I pray You’ll be helping us to be shining examples of You. Help us to be good ambassadors, help us to display Your love and so that Muslims would be able to see Jesus in us and be curious and want to know more. And Father God thank You that Jesus Esa is an important figure to Muslims. And we pray Lord that they know to experience a revelation of Jesus during this time of prayer and fasting, that they would come to know who Esa really is and that they can have a relationship with Him. Father God we pray Your protection over Muslims who are celebrating Ramadan at this time. I pray Lord You’d be giving them wisdom as they might have to celebrate it a bit differently than normal in the current crisis. In Jesus’ holy and precious name…

Good afternoon Daily Audio Bible this is Tracy Baker calling out of Arlington Texas. Blessed be, Blessed be. I know we’re in strange times right now with this COVID virus but fear not, fear not. God has just given us a little time out. I know a lot of us don’t understand what…what or why this is going on but it’s not for us to understand. Trust him. He’s got this. You know, like I said, a little time out. Give us time to take a breath, get back to the basics. So, it’s…it’s…it’s rough, don’t get me wrong. It’s rough. I can’t get out to play tennis like I want to but I’m fine, I’m happy, I’m…I’m…I’m blessed to be here, you know, as it is. But I called in. I haven’t called in a while and my bad, but I am listening every day. I don’t know if I could live without this thing. Brian, where was this 20, 40, 50 years ago? Do you know how much a difference this could be made…have made in people’s lives, if I could have had this 20 years ago? For those of you young people, you guys are blessed to be a part of this. This will make a life changing difference in your life. Real quick the sister who called on the 20th, oh, oh, oh, oh I love you for that. You’re in…you’re in pain but what you’re doing helps others and God’s got you. So, fear not. Love you all.

Hello Daily Audio Bible family this is Rebecca Joy from Illinois calling for the first time ever due to God’s prompting in my heart, which I cannot ignore any longer. I have been a listener of Daily Audio Bible ever since I was a kid, but this is the first year that I decided to go to the whole Bible on my own accord. And so far, I’ve been keeping it up. I decided to call and because of the prompting of three different women. The first one was a woman from the 20th of April who called in suffering from extreme emotional distress. The second is from today’s reading, Mother Lioness with her two daughters that she is struggling with, and finally another woman who called in from Florida just breathlessly asking for prayer. And…oh man I…I need a…I just needed to call in. So, dear God, I am no stranger to emotional distress whether it be anxiety, depression, anything…just fear in general and I can tell that all of these women are in such fear right now and it can be such a lonely thing to be in. But I pray that You would just lay Your hands on them and that they would know…they would know that they don’t have to be strong enough. Everything that You offer to them is right there and You are strong enough. I pray for the woman in emotional turmoil, that she would find peace, that she would hold on. I pray for Mother Lioness, that she would know that You have her daughters in Your hands. You have a good plan even though she can see it right now. And I pray for that woman in Florida. I pray whatever she needs let her be with You. Be blessed.

Hey Daily Audio Bible family, To Be A Blessing in California. Hope this finds everyone doing well. I am in the process of waiting to see what a new work organizational chart is going to look like and am trying not to project my fears on my position being demoted or eliminated. The whole organization is going through a process of looking at what it’s going to be like in the future. So, it brings up all kinds of old stuff. But I don’t want old stuff to get in the way. I wanted to throw myself on the floor and have a temper tantrum. And God is sweetly singing, God will take care of you in my mind. And, so, I know that that will take place, and He is. He always has. So, I need prayer to just be more than being an adult about this because the temper tantrum to being an adult, that just masks pouting and upset inside. I’d like to have Jesus show up in the meeting and in the midst of coronavirus and all that everyone is going through, you know, I’m just…my heart breaks for people. It might be you who’s listening who has lost a job or a family member or you’re sick yourself. So, know I’m praying for you and know that I thank you for your prayers.

This is Caribbean Joy saying hi to you from the dark side of the tiny, tiny island of St. Martin in the Caribbean. I have been a listener for many years and have encouraged many others to listen as well. One of my greatest joys is to learn that family and friends have become listeners as well and that they are enjoying it. I have also encouraged people in different languages, for example I have a chat group that is called friends of DAB and that is…those are my English friends, and I’ve also encouraged friends to listen in the Spanish language and also in French. __ [speaking Spanish] I’d also like to give a shout out to one of my special, special encouragers here on DAB which is Victoria Soldier. I love to listen to you, and you are really an encourager. May God continue to bless you. Thank you Brian and I guess I have to say goodbye now. Bye-bye until the next time.

[holy-mountaineering]

This Tarot Spread is for @kristennotchristian Thank you for donating!

Here’s the full Qabalistic Tree of Life Spread that I do. What I’m going to do is go through and briefly explain each card, its position on the Tree, and then I’ll give you a summary/synopsis of the spread as a whole. 

Think of this spread as a sort of quantum map, or even the land of a regular map, everything is happening at once, in each place. It’s important to think of yourself as moving “through” the map but you are also simultaneously everywhere at once. For the sake of this specific experiment, think of this as a map. Maybe as a person, the Qabalistic Adam Kadmon.

Where we’re starting the journey from is Kether, the monad, the first sign of creation. We’ll call this your hometown, since it is where you’re from originally. Here we have the  Ace of Swords, the root power of Air or the mind.

This is the sword of the Magus and the magician’s Sword is the physical representation of our mind and it’s ability in its rawest state of being. Thelema is inscribed on the blade of the Sword in Greek because the Magus uses their mind to the end of their True Will. The Crown of light at the tip of the Sword is the illuminated mind, because in its singleness and sharpness it is the foundation of the mind, intellect, and communication powers.

Use your mind for what you need it to do. Remember that a sword is useless at best and dangerous at worst when it isn’t handled correctly. You can cut down an army with a sword, but you can also cut your whole-ass leg or arm off too with one too. Knowledge is dangerous and scary, be prepared.

In Chokmah, which is like your freeway getting you out onto the road out of  your hometown is VI The Lovers. 

These Lovers aren’t about romantic love as much as it is the ‘Love unites the divided.’ This is the ceremony part of the alchemical wedding or the announcement of the intention to dissolve duality. Coagula.

All inverse and adverse elements of the card are brought together under the blessing of the Initiator who is giving the sign of the enterer. This is to say he is blessing your entering into this union of your shadow and conscious self.

You have some work to do on making a more unified you. There are issues that once brought together and balanced make more sense. Bring opposites or aspects of yourself you’re not familiar with/comfortable with together in your life to make a more complete whole. Set intention to do this, maybe even formally.

In Binah, which is ruled by Saturn and for the sake of this reading we will call the first stop on your roadtrip. You haven’t really arrived anywhere but you’re stopping and getting a chance to repack your car in a more efficient way. Sitting in Binah is the Ace of Disks, the root power of Earth or the material. 

This is the foundation which all your solid structures are and will be built on. This is the very root of your real world/material life situation. While this doesn’t mean you must tear everything down or that there is nothing in your material world that you've built, it does mean you must look at the source from which you've built your material and everyday world. If you have no foundation you can have no structure. If you have a shoddy foundation, you'll have a shoddy structure. Look to what things were like  before you began building. Is there sand beneath you? Are you in a swamp, building castles of stone that will bind to the mud and be pulled down much sooner than later? Did you account for the raise in elevation when you laid your foundation? Look down to the base of what you've made and what you've made it upon.

This is an engineering job, you’ll need tools to measure and level everything out. The occult might not be the best place to find these tools and it is possible that you have issues much more base than you're willing to cop to. There are many tools you can use to look at your foundation provided in psychology and meditation from other sources. The Universe throws us extreme situations and more often than not, this is the only way people see their basest of instincts and behaviors really act out. If you can, take a look at what connects you and what you’re building to the Earth before an earthquake, tornado, volcano, or other act of G-D forces you to pray everything was fine. Check the strength of your foundations before the strength of your foundations are checked.

Get down to the base fundamentals of what is going on in your material (things, money, living situation, literal stuff) and build from the ground up if you must.

In Chesed which is ruled by Jupiter and again for the sake of this experiment we’ll say involves your influence and benevolence in your current trip is the 2 of Cups, Love. 

Like all the 2s the deuces of Water is building towards completion. This is the ever becomingness of love. Love never dies, it is simply transformed like any other energy. Love isn’t a competition or something you can measure. You never stop loving someone/thing because you have “reached maximum love levels”, shake hands and walk away from it. There is no end-game to love and that’s why it’s scary and makes people act like idiots sometimes. Astrologically,   Venus in Cancer can be interpreted as nurturing your emotional growth.

Build on what you’re feeling and don’t try to think about anything too concretely emotionally or intuitively. This is a building process so try not to focus on the final outcome but work with what you have now.

Across the Tree in Geburah, which is Mars Town, where you find your drive and what you’re trying to accomplish/conquer is the 7 of Swords, Futility.

This is the main thrust of the Will through the mind being thwarted by in helpful organization of ideas. Each sword with a planetary sigil are like the spikes in a parking garage, one way. It isn’t that the ideas or aspects represented by these swords are “bad” just that their placement and yours are not lined up in the best way right now. 

Mentally and communication wise pull back from what you’re going at and work on how you’re organizing the information in your head.

In Tiphareth, the Sun and center of gravity holding all this in place, the heart pumping the blood through this, your heart is the 5 of Cups Disappointment. 

Like all 5s this is the microcosmic and human part of its suit, in this case the human aspect of water, which is emotion, intuition and connectedness to life. Astrologically, this is Mars in Scorpio or emotional uncertainty making acting on your feelings difficult or at least obscured.

Everyone you’re in contact with, and everyone else is just a human with human limitations. Don’t overreach other people’s boundaries and be aware when they cross yours.  

There is also a frustration emotionally that you’re “stuck in the middle” of where you started and where you’d like to be feeling. That sucks, but, hey, like, we’re all just human. Just yourself and everyone else as much slack as you can for not being where you want them to be.

Don’t focus on your or others emotional limitations. Try to recognize why you are where/who you are emotionally and keep those waters flowing. You might not be quite where you want to be emotionally and in your relationships, but you’re making progress, in your way and time.

In Netzach, Venus town, where you have the realization about how this is going to change you as a person with a personality is X Fortune, Jupiter, Kaph. 

The “wheel of” Fortune is the rotating of things from confusing and/or destructive to beneficial. The gods Hanuman and Sobek to Crowley represented these ideas and the spinning ‘Wheel of Fortune, ol’ Fortuna is the constant motion of life and our experience stuck in it.. The Sphinx on top has waited through the turns patiently and meditatively and now It is on top again. 

Expand your influence through patience. It’s getting better just you wait.

In Mercury Town Hod-ville, where all the Universities are and everyone has real intellectual shit going on is (friend of the blog) XV The Devil OR The Lord of the Gates of Matter, Ayin, Capricorn. 

The Goat-Fish who is half in the mountains and half in the deeps of the oceans, high places and the deep. This guy gets a REALLY bad rap that is very unwarranted. All The Devil is trying to do is Incarnate or materialize by Higher methods.

The card is a giant cock with faceless little white people in the balls looking like they want out, again, possibility is trying to take hold and become a physical thing. The Devil IS a trickster (“you little devil” and assorted shit sayings like that) so that worries some people. Those people are squares and probably have bad taste in music.

Manifest your potential and figure it out when it’s “real” and not just a passing thought or whim.

On the Moon in Yesod, the receptive and reflective place that is alot about the feelings that you’re picking up from all this is the 3 of Swords, Sorrow. 

This is the first shape the suit of Air takes in 2 dimensions and it can be a bit disappointing. Your structure and order (Saturn) needs balancing (Libra) to be blunt. You must let go of your ideas of how things were going to be because now they are the way they are. Just because what you have isn’t what you thought you wanted doesn’t mean it’s not good.

Try to get your mind around what you’ve learned and and how to form it into a useful basis to move on from. Do not continue to focus on how you thought it “should be”, nothing is ever as pure or awesome as we idealize it. Sorting out your mind means actualizing some of the things you’ve been thinking about instead of not doing it because it isn’t perfect in the way we thought it would be.

Down here in Malkuth-istan, the everyday life mundane, waking up pooping, and going to work world is the 3 of Disks, Works or Work or Working.

Like all the 3s, this is the first formulation of the suit,  Earth or material world things. The 3 sided pyramid pictured on this Tarot card sits on water propelled by Dharma Wheels, spinning and causing waves. The drive and energy of the warrior Mars has become stubborn and resolute in the goat-fish Capricorn.

This idea of work is not mindless toil. This is doing the very necessary things in your life so you don’t fuck yourself over on the basic things everyone needs to survive. This is formulating the most simple workable “shape of things” that gets your at least basic needs met so you can expand and become more than basic.

Put together a simple way of dealing with the material world, something that can be expanded on. Keep your wheels turning even if they feel like they’re just spinning. Make waves, they’ll go further and affect more than you think!

So, to summarize, we’re going to need to start to rethink where we’re coming from, we can do that by bringing together those aspects of ourselves that we don’t like or don’t want to deal with but nonetheless ARE us! We cannot escape our shadow and here it will actually serve your purposes, seek to make yourself whole by allowing all of yourself to be present. This process will bring us to a grounding that will show us our foundation we have built upon. Getting back to the very basics of how we exist in this Earth World and interact with it will allow radical self-acceptance and self-love that is the very best foundation to build on!

Speaking of Love, Love is a process, a never ending moving toward, reconciling even. Acting from the love of connecting, the love of being alive and interacting with every other living thing will bring those things you wish to influence into focus. Like a wise man once said (my dearly departed roommate and very good friend Evan aka SPESH 1) “Love is a lot like farting. If you have to force it, it’s probably shit.” If you feel like the things in your life that you need to use to your advantage are pushing back and blocking your progress, it’s time to back off and find a new way to engage with them. This is finding the path of least resistance that allows your mind to flow, not get caught in the mire of details and fuckery that hold you back. And in your heart, know that you and every other person is just that, a person. A human with flaws, limitations, and boundaries. These are what make us human and to acknowledge that is to deal with it realistically and not get disappointed because of them.

Your personal growth, your process of growing into yourself is about to hit that upswing where your patience will pay off and Fortune will smile on you and say, “Here you go” and off you will go, indeed in the direction you wish and need to go. This will allow you to make manifest those ideas that have existed inside of you, desperately trying to get out and into the world! While those ideas may seem different “on paper” than they did in your head, they are out there and in the world, helping you formulate them and use them to accomplish the Work you need to be doing! 

I won’t try to fool you and you shouldn’t try to fool yourself either, this WILL be WORK. It is good and worthwhile Work though. It is formulating those things we talked about above into real things that will get the “job done” and allow you to then complete the tasks at hand! 

Ta Da! Hit me up with any questions, comments, concerns, clarifications, or Qabalistic inquiries!

-Frater N0vght

[loralee01]

A rhetorical analysis is all.

“There is freedom waiting for you, On the breezes of the sky, And you ask "What if I fall?" Oh but my darling, What if you fly?” ― Erin Hanson

I love most quotes from Erin Hanson, but this is one of my favorites.  I came across it at the thrift shop where I purchased a T-shirt which flaunted these beautiful words.  I didn’t even read the shirt or care what it said until I began getting compliments on my $3 shirt.  What was the big deal? I soon realized this shirt had more value to it than I thought it ever would.  I read the quote a few more times, pondering it. I could then see what others were complimenting - not the color or fit of the shirt at all, but a beautiful piece of word art.  Not only had the shirt’s value increased to me, but my value as well. After all, I seemed to have bought the shirt for the quote, as if I was well versed in uplifting literature.

To me, this beautiful poem-like quote suggests taking risks and taking what the world has to offer me, whether easy or not. It suggests freedom at my fingertips if I can believe in myself and be brave. It forces me to weigh the risks- how far is the fall and how likely am I to get up again, and how high could I fly and to where? I have fallen many times in my life - both literally and metaphorically (sometimes farther down than at other times) and I am still okay. But I feel that I have yet to fly as far as I would like. Therefore, from this quote, I come to the idea that possibly I need to stop fearing my chances of falling, and to keep working on the flying part.  My life is good, and that may be what flying is all about- enjoying life. I am flying now! Will I fly higher and farther at times? Yes. When I am old and nearly dead, would I have flown as high and as far as I could in this life? I hope so.

This quote happened to be on a T-shirt designed for women written by a woman. I am a woman. I am also a woman who has experienced oppression, lack of freedom and rights, just as many other people have experienced. I fled from my oppressor with this quote held in my heart along with several other pieces of literature and inspirational words that helped to validate my reasonings and to empower my bravery. I took big leaps into the abyss with confidence and happiness knowing that I could never fly otherwise. What if I never had the opportunity to hear or read encouraging words? Where would I be and what would I do? The answer would be, nowhere and nothing. Do the lost and depressed and hopeless really need only a positive piece of literature and someone to believe in them? I say YES. Friendship and encouragement can’t hurt anyone and can always help. This is what life is about- positive and loving communication.

Why did Erin Hanson write this quote? Is she intentionally trying to motivate others towards a better life? Or is she teaching a flight lesson where the matter really is life or death? Maybe she is talking about accepting death and not being afraid of Hell because we may end up in Heaven. There may also be the slim possibility Erin is a drug lord and is convincing people to take drugs to get high and to “fly” regardless of whether or not the drug kills them. I don’t know the specific reasons Erin thought up this quote and then decided to share it with the world. I’ll research her reasonings at another time if I decide I really want to know. But I’m glad she did it anyway. I believe everyone can use this quote at different times in their lives and can have it be applicable in some way.

I know a story of a man named James “The Great Dane” Poulsen who came to America from Denmark seeking religious freedom. On the ship, he lost all his 3 children and his wife to sickness. In the depths of despair and in his darkest hour, he nearly jumped overboard and blamed God. Why wouldn’t he? He chose to Follow God, and then God took his family from him in an awful way. It was at his worst and saddest time ever that a good woman (who had also lost loved ones) saw his immense suffering and said these few words to him in his native language, “You lived”. Just these two words changed his life forever. Why did he live and not so many others? Why was this suffering to be his and nobody else’s? What was his mission? What could he do for the world because of what he went through? He found courage and strength almost instantly upon hearing these words. He continued the voyage. He was very physically strong- and having decided to survive such sorrow he became very spiritually strong as well. James helped many families cross the United States with the Mormon Pioneers. He married again and again and again (he had a few wives) and he had so many children he felt he was “the most blessed man in the world.” I can imagine him on the other side now with the family he lost as well as with the family he gained. Thanks to God’s all-knowing and loving ways and thanks to two very simple words.

Words matter. Otherwise, how could two words change a person’s life? This is one reason Erin chose to write this piece. How can this quote from Erin Hanson change our lives? Will we brush it off as I did upon first glance? Or will we try to let her and others’ efforts to improve the world, in? Several of Erin’s poems and quotes refer to selflessness, love, starting over, sacrifice, and finding happiness. Some emanate sorrow, and others radiate happiness. Her life is seen in her words and can easily be likened to our own lives. I feel it is very important for everyone to write about their lives in some way. Maybe poems or stories or journal entries could someday change the world or could simply help someone to not feel alone. The good thing about writings is they last a long time and can be copied, held onto, and cherished, and they can be perceived in many different ways. But even good, positive words in everyday speaking with others can be very important. I hang on to stories from my dad’s travels all over the world and I tell happy stories to my children before they drift into sleep. Words matter.

This quote from Erin Hanson certainly invokes good. Erin calls us “darling” showing that she cares for us as her readers. Because of this one term of endearment, I believe the freedom, to which she is suggesting we partake of, is good. She’s not afraid for us falling because she believes we are strong and will be fine if we fall. She is confident that we will reach freedom, and she invites us to leap for it. Erin doesn’t need to know us personally for us see that she genuinely cares for the welfare of humankind. She has seen these words work in her life and in the lives of others. She simply wants to give us something good to think about and maybe something good to hold onto if ever we find we need it.