#but i retain all reasoning and just feel a bit better. maybe that was for the best. when i lose all reasoning its not always good.

[pizzapizzadickz]

.

[andrastepls]

UNTIL DAWN.

synop: reader (callsign lark) and ghost chat over comms one rainy evening. maybe in the same universe as A/SMR ?

warnings: noooone ?

i have once again not proofread shit

The sound of rain pelting down on her makeshift tent was all encompassing, loud — and cold.

Under other circumstances, she would’ve loved the sound. The pitter patter of the droplets may well have lulled her to sleep, but not tonight. Camped out atop a roof adjacent to enemy territory, huddled up underneath a pair of wooden pallets and garbage bags that she’d propped up against the side of the wall, a thermal blanket held up to her nose in an attempt to retain some warmth — this was anything but comforting.

Maybe that was why her eyes kept flicking to her comm. Knowing a familiar voice was just on the other end of a radio wave. He, Ghost, never turned his off. Especially not while she was out on her own, “Manners,” was his response when asked why.

“Lt?” she begins, her voice a breadth above a whisper, “You awake? Over.”

There’s a lull of silence. Not even the static there to keep her company when she lifted her finger from the button.

“Copy, Lark. How you holdin’ up? Over.” came the slight grogginess of his voice, a telltale sign that he had been nearly asleep, if not outright unconscious.

She pauses before answering; namely, what was she going to say? She woke him, it had to be a better reason than being cold and lonely. He was probably cold and lonely too. If he even got lonely. He didn’t seem the type for it. In the two years she had known him, if there was anything she could figure, it was that Lieutenant Riley was someone who enjoyed his alone time.

“Lark?” his voice sounds again with a crackle of static, sounding more awake.

“Here, sir.” she replies, “Just . . . needed to hear a familiar voice. Sorry to wake you. Over.” and she expects that to be the end of it. It was silly of her to bother him over something so mundane. It was weak, and overstepping and —-

“Cold as hell tonight.” he says, dropping formalities. Her chest feels tight. Guilty.

“. . yeah.”

“Y’ got enough thermals up there?”

“For tonight, if it doesn’t flood up here.”

And she swears, she swears, she hears the end of a snorted-laugh when he answers, “The roof innit gonna flood, kid.”

Fighting a smile, she hides herself further into the silver blanket, ducking her head inside and curling her legs up closer, “You’re gonna feel real silly saying that when you need a boat to evac me in the morning.”

"Sure we got a little floaty around here somewhere, if it comes to that." he replies, taking on the tone of a man who thought himself to be hilarious -- having been on the receiving end of his jokes in the past, well . . .

"One with duckies on it, I hope."

"Mm. Nah. Little fish." the Lt. says, his smirk evident in his voice. A smirk she had never seen, but had grown quite accustomed to hearing.

"Nemo?" Lark grins, pulling her sleeves further up to cover her hands in the interim between their comments.

"High standards there, huh?"

"You have no idea, Lt. Nemo or bust."

"I'll see what I can do." he chuckles a bit, and she tries to picture him being up there with her. He was intimidating, no doubt about that, but he brought a certain comfort with him. A sense of safety, even. Must have come with the territory of doing what they did.

You either had each others back, or you all died. That, or get hunted down. Bleak, unless you sucked it up and worked together.

"Fallin' asleep, kid?" Simon's voice comes through again in a crackle of static.

"Nah -- don't think I'm gonna get much sleep tonight." still, she fights back a yawn. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to sleep, because she wanted to. Badly. Getting back to base couldn't come soon enough.

There’s a moment of silence, and she wonders if he had fallen asleep himself. She couldn’t even blame him. Freezing rain, creeping up on 3 A.M. Dawn isn’t all that far off, she told herself, just power through a few more hours.

“Can stay on with ya,” he suddenly says, clearing his throat a little, “Should at least try to get a few winks.”

“That your way of telling me to shut up, Lt?” Lark asks, not bothering to try and hide the sleepy smile evident in her reply.

“Maybe.”

“Brutal.”

“Do I gotta make it an order?”

“Maybe.”

He laughs. Laughs. It makes her chest tighten so unfairly; worse, when she realizes she would do damn near anything to hear that again.

“Get some shuteye, Lark. That’s an order.”

“Mm.” She hums, pulling her thermal over her head, listening to the rain continue to pitter-patter on her makeshift shelter, “See you in the morning, Lt.”

“Jus’ a couple hours.”

“ . . just a couple hours.” she mutters back, tucking her walkie underneath her chin as she settled back in. Forcing her eyes shut as he says a muffled ‘Goodnight’ into the comm.

A/N: i’ve had an idea like this for months, and when i read this, i couldn’t stop myself B) . . . might continue this ? idk

[prettieinpink]

Hi !

Could u give me some tips on how to stop procrastinating and be more productive (in school and after school) ?

And do you also have any study tips to help me to study much better ?

Thx very much and luv ur blog !

♡♡ Keep up the good work ♡♡

STUDYING EFFECTIVELY IN AND OUT OF SCHOOL

thank you so much for the support and for your patience!! I hope this post helps you well. I also think this post on procrastination would help as well.

Studying effectively looks different for a lot of people. You will have to try out different methods to see what works best for you specifically. This post will discuss ways to maximize your time in the classroom and reinforce that knowledge outside of school hours.

AT SCHOOL

ASK FOR HELP OR FURTHER UNDERSTANDING. Try your best to engage as much as possible with your teacher or mentor regardless of your understanding. If you need help, ask for it. If you want to advance in your learning, ask more questions. 

LISTEN TO MUSIC. A lot of people fall victim to talking to their friends instead of working. Bring earphones to school and listen to your playlist instead of talking to your friends. If you have your earphones on, you won’t feel obligated to join in the conversation and others most likely won’t bother you. 

TAKE EFFECTIVE NOTES. You don’t have to do an overly specific way of writing notes, but make sure your notes are clear, concise, and understandable for you. A thing I try to do is leave a little room at the bottom of the page in which I can summarise everything without looking at prior notes.

CARRY A WATER BOTTLE. Water helps boost your brain productivity, so carry it to all of your classrooms.

UTILISE LUNCH & RECESS. Giving up your lunch and recess for more studying is not ideal, but it’s better to set in fresh knowledge than go home and completely forget everything. Or, you can use this time for assignments or studying for assessments.

AFTER SCHOOL

REMEMBER TO REFUEL AND TAKE A BREAK. Studying can be hard after you come back from 6-8 hours of already doing that. Eat something, exercise, do something fun, watch a show. Give your brain a break before studying.

HAVE AN EVERYDAY STUDY ROUTINE. Maybe you wanna dedicate some time to your flashcards or revise back on your notes, or you can have your focus change for each day of the week.

(FAVE) STUDY METHODS

FLASHCARDS. Flashcards are so easy to do everywhere, which is what I like about them. I could do it while waiting for something, while bored, on a car/bus ride, or even just a few before going to bed. Requires zero energy while still getting a lot out.

WHITEBOARD METHOD. Though, you can use a mirror. It’s just writing everything on a whiteboard. From ideas, diagrams, and questions. The reason why I feel like this method is so effective is because it’s so engaging, unlike a laptop or pen and paper.

BLURTING. You most likely did this in primary school, but it’s just writing down everything you know and then checking for gaps in knowledge. I love this method because it’s also a really simple way to study yet it’s so effective.

SQ3R. Survey, question, read, recite, and review. This one requires a bit more focus, but it does help to retain more information than just skimming through the text. 

[thot-writes]

MORE WEREWOLF X VAMPIRE FICS!! *slams fists on the table* I DEMAND MORE WEREWOLF X VAMPIRE FICS!!!!

how astarion would treat his werewolf gf (SFW);

Astarion is not as surprised as one might’ve expected him to be. he’s likely had a lot of experience with lycanthropes of all kinds through Cazador (that bitch)

when you’re revealed to be a werewolf, the cogs in his mind are already turning for suggestive jokes he can make about it

you actually hear him (thanks to your superior hearing) in front of his tent mumbling them to himself as he workshops them

“‘Every good dog deserves a bone…’ hm… no, that sounds too seedy. Maybe… ‘if you’re a good little pup I’ll give you a… treat’? Gods, why is this so much harder than I thought?”

you have to cover your mouth to stop your hideous snickering. hearing his process on his meticulously crafted persona is simply too cute

you always end up turning the lines back onto him anyways. after all, if you’re the dog but he’s the one on all fours and begging, what does that make him?

astarion is a little disappointed that you can never wear silver, and he tells you so. it burns you to the touch, but also it would look so good on your gorgeous skin— isn’t a little bit of pain worth it for the fashion?

you throw garlic cloves at him for suggesting it. luckily for him the tadpole negates what damage that would normally do.

loves the bloodthirst. he’ll cheer you on when you’re getting worked up & rabid during battles

occasionally you’ll have bouts where all you crave is extreme violence. it’s quite manageable, they normally only happen when a full moon is close or when you’re in the middle of a particularly nasty fight.

one time, you tackled a man who’d targeted astarion and bit half his face off. you don’t even know why you did it, it just felt like the right thing to do at the time— and your adrenaline was running too fast for you to stop and think for a second

if astarion’s heart was still beating, he was sure it would’ve fluttered at that moment. seeing you defend him with such aggression was so… romantic

he had to resist the urge to pull you in for a kiss. at least while you still had the man’s face-skin in your mouth (did you eat it or spit it out?)

as your relationship shifts less from lust and more to love, he starts to express concerns over the darker parts of your curse.

astarion knows that while lycanthropy has a cure they’re often hard to find— and you’ve little interest in one at this point anyway. but doesn’t mean that doesn’t mean he can’t help you in other ways

when a full moon is coming and a horrific, agonising transformation is upon you, astarion stays by your side and tries to alleviate the pain by showing you have his support

after attempts of trying stronger and stronger pain-killing elixirs failed to make much of a difference, he decided that perhaps just being there with you was the better option

he’s by your side and resting your head on his lap, stroking your hair and offering the occasional word of encouragement

when it’s time to transform you get magically restrained and even still, he remains. sometimes he passes the hours with reading or embroidery, sometimes he tries to talk with you to see if you’re still in there

he hopes by doing this that you’ll learn to retain some control over yourself and you won’t need to be restrained each full moon. and it’s kind of working! once, he managed to calm you down enough to give you a little pat on the head— and that’s enough proof for him that you can best the beast

you’re not entirely sure if you believe him when he tells you that though

and as if astarion needed yet another reason to hate the gur, now he has one.

as a monster, they’ll be just as likely to hunt you. he won’t let them.

even if you have no strong feelings for the gur, astarion is brimming with more than enough spite and vitriol for both of you.

honestly, being a werewolf has made you two even closer than before. you can relate on certain issues now— you’re both bloodthirsty monsters, capable of losing all sense of control and reason, and when night falls is when the people of faerun should be the most fearful— for the night is your personal hunting ground.

astarion is very supportive of a lycanthrope partner (much like he is with a durge one) and will not judge you for it. when your control lapses, he reins you in, when you’re dealing with the pain of a pre and post-transformation, he helps you through it.

on the surface, you’re two fearsome, monstrous beasts that would send an average person running— but beneath, you’re two people madly in love, trying to temper the negative effects of your respective curses. for each other.

[keepingupwithzaynmalik]

How Zayn Drew Inspiration From Chris Stapleton and Embraced Honesty on New Single ‘Alienated’

On the latest episode of The Breakdown, the musician explains how listening to Stapleton and Willie Nelson inspired the songwriting on his upcoming album Room Under the Stairs, out May 17

Zayn could have easily wrapped his real-life experiences around convoluted metaphors and hidden messages on his latest single, “Alienated.” And he might have on previous records, but as the musician explained on the latest episode of Rolling Stone‘s The Breakdown: he isn’t trying to trick you.

“I feel like the whole intention behind this record is I’ve sang a lot of stuff in there that’s real straightforward. There’s not too many mind games going on. So I’m hoping people will understand the concept themselves and get with it,” Zayn said. “It’s a special song, in that sense, because it really solidified that I could do something in this space for myself.”

“Alienated” marked a significant starting point for his upcoming album Room Under the Stairs (out May 17), which Zayn wrote and produced with a technician before bringing on Dave Cobb as co-producer. It puts aside the glossy R&B of his earlier releases in favor of a more rustic and soulful sound inspired by the likes of Chris Stapleton and Willie Nelson.

“First idea for this song came to me maybe about five or six years ago now, when I was living in [Pennsylvania] and just in a place where felt like I wanted to write something that was a little bit more elevated, and a little bit more insightful than the music that I’d been putting out at that point,” Zayn explained. “I just got in the studio and kind of felt it. I was just feeling alienated at the time in certain situations. That was kind of the sentiment behind the whole idea of the song, so that’s why I felt it fit as the title. And I explain in the song exactly why I’m feeling that way, how I have dealt with those situations, and how it’s felt in that place.”

Zayn sums up “Alienated” with an equally straightforward description: “It’s fucking honest.” And that descriptor extends beyond the songwriting, influencing his approach to the record’s production as well. “Everything that was in there from the beginning stayed to the end. I didn’t feel myself having to censor anything,” he shared. “And that was obviously another great thing about making music like this, you know, all the imperfections and all the things that are in there are intentional and genuine. I kept them in for that reason, I wanted it to feel that way.”

He added: “Obviously, Dave Cobb just elevated it, made it sound way better because that’s what he does. We brought him on to to bring the final magic to the song, but the original production was just me and my technician. I think the main focus on this record for the instruments was always guitar. It was always going to be that. Originally it was gonna be just an acoustic-sounding record where it was just gonna be guitars and maybe drums. And then eventually, as the idea developed more and built more identity, we started to figure out homes for other instruments that could be used on that, too.”

Speaking about collaborating with Zayn in a recent interview with Rolling Stone, Cobb praised his approach to retaining the raw emotions in his performances. “What got me about Zayn was his voice, you can hear love, loss, pain, triumph and humanity in it. I feel as if this record is removing the glass from his spirit directly to his fans,” he said. “Zayn has really created his own universe on this record, he really has no fear and is speaking straight from his soul.”

VIA ROLLING STONE

[utilitycaster]

Would LOVE that essay on combat in dnd because full agree. But not even just for people watching live play, like, combat is an essential feature of dnd as a game system and it endlessly frustrates me when i see dms be like “yeah combat is just too complicated and no fun so i dont do it in my game :)!” Like i guess thats your right, but any non-caster class is gonna be miserable in your game. I saw a video recently talking about how dnd has kind of become the default ttrpg and is marketed as the perfect system for everyone and any style of play which is just. So not true. Combat in dnd is equally as integral as roleplay is and theres really no argument otherwise. Very valid if you hate dnd combat, it sure isnt for everyone, but in that case maybe play a different ttrpg where the characters arent constructed around combat abilities, i promise you’ll have more fun.

So this is one of those things that touches on maybe 99% of my feelings on Experiencing Fiction in general and actual play in particular; I apologize in advance for the length and digressions within this response.

Here are the reasons I have seen or I surmise why people don’t like D&D combat, either in actual play or in home games:

It can get crunchy and involves a lot of rules

There are long stretches in which individuals do not necessarily act (not exclusive to combat but I think this is a factor)

It contains violence

There is a potential for character death

Now, it’s fine if you aren’t interested in D&D-style combat, for whatever reason, when you play ttrpgs. It’s just that this is a core feature of D&D. As you say, this is what the martial classes are structured around - and, frankly, no small number of casting classes/subclasses as well. By avoiding it when you play D&D, you’re avoiding the bulk of the game, and there are plenty of ttrpgs that permit open RP that aren’t combat focused that would probably fit your needs better (eg: PbtA and Savage Worlds are both generic systems that can support a heroic fantasy like D&D without the emphasis on combat skills). I happen to love and prefer D&D, but that is specifically because I love combat, and yeah, there are other games and people should seek out those games if they don’t like combat.

When it comes to D&D actual play though…skipping combat is just straight-up stupid. And to be clear I mean fully skipping it and not watching it at all; while this is piggybacking off my post about spoilers, it’s fine if you are the sort of person who needs to know how combat ends in order to enjoy it! That’s just a personal preference that I respect even if I don’t share it.

D&D combat isn’t just an inherent part of the game; it’s an inherent part of the story. The idea of D&D being split into combat and RP is a false dichotomy. There is RP and crucial story within combat scenes, and you simply do not achieve the same effects by reading an after-the-fact summary. To use examples from Critical Role, consider one of the most famous RP moments from Campaign 1, when Scanlan uses his 9th level counterspell in the Vecna fight. The weight of that moment derives from mechanics and from the fact that it is in the midst of combat and well into a climatic final battle. Or for lighter examples, there’s a ton of Beau/Yasha and Fjord/Jester mid-combat flirting running through much of Campaign 2 that informs those relationships. Molly’s death? Caleb going into a fugue state when he kills humanoids with fire? Yasha destroying Obann? Fjord dying mid-deep scion fight? Those are all moments that have deep character weight and meaning that are within the context of combat, and you cannot divorce them from that context and hope to retain the same effect.

This is what dovetails into a larger discussion of Experiencing Fiction which is a (in my opinion) worrying tendency among some people to truly believe that you can cut up media into the palatable bits and pieces and push all of what you see as icky vegetables to the side of your plate. I fucking hate this. I think it’s what drives a lot of things including a distaste for combat. This is how you get, for example, people who dislike combat because Violence And Death Bad, which, do I think that in the real world violence is most often a thing to be avoided? Do I think that in the real world death is heartbreaking? Yes, but this is fiction. There’s that great Brennan Lee Mulligan quote about how TTRPGs like D&D allow people who usually must be conflict-avoidant in real life to let out their anger and frustration in a place where it is safe and harmless, and I believe that whole-heartedly. I want stories about death because I want to know I'm not alone in how I feel about death. I want stories in which people can express their rage in ways both healthy and unhealthy, because big same. (I also think it’s absolutely not coincidental that people who believe they are ‘protecting’ people by circumscribing what is acceptable in fiction tend to be strongly associated with either bigoted, violent policies in real life, or harassment and doxxing online; maybe enjoy a fucked up movie, as John Waters once said, and you'll calm down.)

This idea that you can cut up media and only consume what you like is also what I think is behind some of the really ill-considered and overly granular timestamped content warnings I’ve mentioned previously. It is fine if there are things you don’t want to watch or which will be upsetting or even triggering to watch! It’s fine if you as an individual don’t like violence! But I think there’s a problem when people believe they are entitled to be able to watch whatever they want and have it mold to their exact wants and needs (and that it’s a failing if it doesn’t), rather than taking on the responsibility of seeking out media that already fits the bill. Actual Play D&D will nearly always have violent encounters. If this will be an issue this is not for you. It is not gatekeeping to say “you can come through this gate, but the gate is in fact here for your specifically requested protection"; and yet people think that instead, gates should be placed around everything else. So (to give an example) this is why the warnings for D20’s Neverafter strike me as a symptom of this larger problem - if you have discomfort with violence towards animals and children, that’s fine, but you are watching a D&D horror series in which over half the player characters are either animals or children. This is not something where you can skip a few seconds of a flashing gif that might be a migraine or seizure trigger, or a case where an exceptionally rough scene of gaslighting can be read instead of watched; this is inherent to the show, and if this is not for you, you need to go elsewhere.

To give one last example, I was looking for fanart for Worlds Beyond Number, and came across a picture of Suvi with a caption of “Suvi but without the imperialism” and like…Aabria has said in interviews that this engagement with the empire is extremely deliberate; that Suvi is intended to be tied into the political structures of this world as an intentional contrast with Eursulon’s status as an outsider and Ame’s role at the smaller, community level. Suvi without imperialism is not identifiable as the same character and it throws the entire story off-kilter; she is of this empire and that is the fucking point. Any story worth telling is not just items thrown haphazardly into a bowl; they are combined and mixed. Someone is giving you a plate of brownies and you are acting like it’s physically possible to take out the cocoa powder without fucking the end result, and buddy, it’s not.

(Truly, I was not joking when I said this is like, the load-bearing pillar of most of my complaints about fiction consumption patterns in general. This is about how people will deny the flaws in characters even though any reasonably intelligent ten-year-old, and I know because I fucking was one once, understands that person vs. themself is one of the core conflicts and overcoming one’s flaws is in many cases the entire story and if you start out perfect there is nothing to be said. Like…I think a lot of people genuinely just want to watch a nonstop Monterey Bay Otter Cam of their sufficiently sanitized, focus-group-tested blorbos baking cookies together, and are affronted when people with the tiniest sliver of empathy and/or curiosity want a story with plot and character growth, which in turn require conflict.)

Anyway. I think the takeaways here are that there’s this awful entitlement people have in which they think that they can simply consume anything and it is the failure of that media if it doesn’t cater specifically to them, rather than a failure of them to seek out that which they would enjoy (and I could go on this rant indefinitely; it is truly the most constant theme among Takes I Think Are Dumb); and also I really want to bake something right now, given my choices of metaphor. Combat is part of D&D as a game and as a storytelling medium, and it is incumbent upon people who do not like combat to find something that doesn’t have D&D combat, rather than try to pull out the vital organs of the story.

[silversimp]

Extra Credit

Professor Erwin Smith x Fem Student Reader

4,092 words - nsfw - minors dni

If there was one thing you were certain of it was that no one was lying when they said college professors were nothing like highschool teachers. Especially in the case of your gorgeous history professor Erwin Smith. Light blue button up struggling to contain him, buttons straining over his built chest and white undershirt peeking out through the gaps. 

Everything about him was unbelievably hot, from the way he moved to the way his voice captured the whole room. Many classes you found yourself completely distracted by him, large arms holding textbooks and long fingers pointing at the words he'd written on the board. If it wasn't for his booming voice you'd probably miss more than half of what he was saying. The man really commanded his space, no one could stop themselves from listening to him. 

Unfortunately you didn't seem to be retaining enough information, he'd drawn a sad face next to the abysmal grade you'd gotten on his last quiz. You couldn't help but giggle a little at the thought of such a serious man drawing smiley faces on his graded assignments. He'd also jotted down at the bottom of the paper to meet him during his office hours when you had the chance, so you could make up the grade. 

Feeling very nervous about speaking one on one with the most beautiful man you've ever seen, you tried your best to seem chill as you waited for him outside his office door. You'd gotten to his office a few minutes early, when you knocked there had been no answer. So you waited. Waiting only made you feel even more nervous though. 

"Early, good girl" Erwin smiled as he walked up to you, inside you wanted to scream. Unable to look him in the eye as you greeted him, your vision hit the floor, slowly working up to his face. His slacks were a little too tight and putting his thigh muscles on display, the outline of his manhood made you quickly find something on the floor to look at while he unlocked his door, "come on in, I have a few extra credit options for you." 

"Thank you," it came out a mumble as you stepped inside the office, Erwin closing and locking the door behind you made your heart hammer against your chest. There was obviously no dubious reason for him to do that, he probably just didn't want anyone walking in while he worked with you. That's all. 

"Please sit, I'll gather the options" he gestured to a chair for you before walking around his desk, rummaging through a drawer before pulling out a folder, "based on your previous work in my class, you'll probably prefer the essay" he said softly, looking over the contents of the folder as he sat down across from you, "but there's also the option to retake the quiz entirely." 

"Essay about what?" You watched his hands, they moved so solidly across the papers. Blue veins like raging rivers down his forearms, a simple watch hugging his thick wrist. 

"I have a list here" he handed you a paper, seven different essay questions from the last three chapters you'd been working on in class, "pick whichever you'd like. Three pages and due by Monday, please." 

You had a busy weekend already, trying to add this paper to the list felt a bit daunting, "maybe it would be easier to retake the quiz" you looked up, the man was loosening his tie as he leaned back in his chair. You felt every hair on your body stand at attention, "I don't have a lot of extra time to work on this" your voice shaking as you placed the paper down on the desk. 

"We could do a retake on Tuesday" he leafed through a planner that had been sitting neatly in front of him, "or you could earn the grade another way, today." 

Your face heated up, his tone had been completely neutral but it didn't stop your mind from finding the dirtiest option imaginable. You stared at him for a moment, Erwin still looking through his planner. There was no way your hot professor was actually propositioning you for sex for a better grade. That had to just be your mind going wild with ridiculous fantasies. 

"Unless you're busy today as well" he closed the planner and looked back at you, though his voice was normal his eyes weren't. Lust and desire swimming in pools of blue, slowly being eaten up by his pupils. Your face was going red, still trying to rationalize that this wasn't actually happening. 

"Do you want me to take the quiz again now?" You asked quietly, worried if you spoke any louder you wouldn't be able to keep the words steady. A chuckle escaped him as he pulled at his tie again, this time fully removing it before tossing it on his desk. Your mouth watered as he undid his top two buttons, a lazy smile on his lips. 

"Sorry I'm all out of copies at the moment, I was thinking my lesson must not have stuck with you well enough. I'm willing to use this time now to go over the chapters" Erwin spoke slowly, deep voice rather quiet compared to how loudly he spoke in class. You tried to inconspicuously wipe your sweaty hands off on your leggings, feeling extra stupid for thinking he'd meant anything other than something actually educational. 

"Yeah, I don't have any other classes for today" you tried to relax, pleased to be getting some extra attention from your professor but still nervous as all hell. 

"Wonderful," he smiled before sitting up straight. You watched as he gathered up some papers from the lessons, "now," he cleared his throat and pushed back on his chair away from the desk, "come here" Erwin gestured to the space between him and the desk. Puzzled you slowly stood up, face going hot again as you saw him eye you from head to toe then back up again. 

"Should I take the chair?" You asked nervously, he shook his head no and you slowly walked around the solid wooden desk, standing awkwardly in front of him you couldn't find the strength to look at his face. 

"On your knees" a gruff whisper that you weren't sure actually escaped him or if your mind was playing twisted tricks on you. 

"Pardon?" You looked at him, his bottom lip between his teeth as he sat back in his desk chair. Erwin's eyes were still slowly tracing your body, one hand resting on his strong thigh while the other was gently touching the growing tent in his slacks. 

"Get down on your knees" he said louder this time, eyes meeting yours. Your head spun for a moment, either you were having the most vivid amazing dream of your life or you had died and gone to heaven. There was no way any of it was real. After a few blinks you obeyed, sitting back on your heels and looking up at him with rosy cheeks. 

"Like this?" You felt the words leave your lips but you weren't sure any sound actually came out. 

"Very good" he cooed, you watched in awe as he undid his belt then pants. The fabric was fighting tooth and nail to keep his erection contained, it relaxed as he freed himself. Big. That's all you could think as you watched him slowly stroke his cock. He cleared his throat before scooting his chair closer to you, "you're going to use your mouth, go nice and slow and listen to me okay?" His words were like honey, cock standing proud a few inches from your face. 

"Yes sir" you mumbled before sitting up a bit, getting a better angle to try to fit the monster in your mouth. A pleased sigh passed through his lips as your mouth enveloped the head of his cock. 

"Good girl," he purred, one his large hands tangled in your hair. He gently patted your head as you began sucking in as much of him as you could, remembering to move slowly as he asked. A few quiet breaths before he began speaking, "now let's go over the Renaissance" you continued slowly sucking on his cock, one hand keeping your balance on his knee while the other pumped the bottom half of his cock. 

Erwin sat still, keeping his reactions to you at a minimum as he spoke. He reassured you every now and then that you were doing a great job, he'd comb his fingers through your hair as he spoke. You still weren't sure this was actually happening. 

"You got the section on humanism incorrect as well" he used his free hand to look over your quiz, "do you remember when we went over classical antiquity?" He looked down at you, your eyes met and he shivered. You felt his cock twitch against your tongue, you nodded yes as you continued sucking and looking up into his eyes. Blue completely gone now. He let out a small sigh and hung his head back, enjoying your mouth for a moment before continuing his lesson. 

The heat between your thighs was becoming unbearable. You found using the heel of your shoe to rub yourself on was good enough for the moment, but god did you want to put what was in your mouth down there instead. You listened to him speak, his voice sounded so sexy and rough as he went on with his lesson. Every few words his breath was a little shaky, but he still wasn't reacting much. You wondered if he would at all, if he'd let you hear him moan in ecstasy or if he'd be just as serious looking when he finally finished. 

"The goal of the Italian Renaissance humanists of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries was the study of the humanities, is the main take away from that section" he said lowly, his hand in your hair moved down until the palm was at the base of your skull, "you've done so well, but I want you take in more" he pushed your head down, forcing more of his length into your mouth. You gagged as the tip entered your throat, "good girl, just like that" he purred. 

He kept pushing you down lower for a few more minutes, releasing you to let you breathe. You caught your breath and looked up at him, his hand slowly stroking his dick wet with your spit. You quickly took over, lips back around his girth as he hummed happily. 

"You're such an excellent student" he held your head with both hands, "this is the first quiz you haven't passed" he thrust into your mouth, forcing his entire length into your throat making you choke, "just relax, there you go" he grunted as he fucked into your mouth before letting go and letting you take control again, "you can go a little faster, I'm almost done here" Erwin returned his attention to your quiz as tears streamed down your cheeks, throat burning a bit as you swallowed excess spit. 

Swallowing around his cock made him moan unexpectedly, his hand over his mouth like he hadn't meant to only made it sexier. You wanted to make him moan more, desperate to make him unravel. The thought this could end with you bent over his desk and fully stuffed with his cock had you rocking your hips against your heel even harder. 

"You did well on the art section, so I'll skip that one" his breathing was getting more erratic, but he was holding onto that neutral tone still, "let's go over the technology section now." 

You continued bobbing on his cock, taking him until your throat couldn't handle it anymore before popping off the tip. With how much your mouth was watering for him, his cock was dripping with your spit. It was rolling down his shaft and over your hands, a small puddle forming on his boxers covering his balls. God his balls, you wanted to take his pants completely off so you could them. They were big too, you could tell through his underwear. 

"Sir?" You interrupted him, breathing heavy as you looked up at him through wet lashes. He chewed his bottom lip and looked down at you, hand still stroking his cock as you figured out how to say your thoughts aloud. 

"I want to suck on your balls too" you whispered, struggling to maintain eye contact but knew you wanted to see his reaction to your words. For good reason too, the question certainly riled him up. His eyes went wide for a moment, a smile pulled the corners of his lips up as he mulled over a response. 

"Answer a few questions and I'll let you" Erwin exhaled, "what's an arquebus?" 

"It's a gun" you answered, hand still stroking his spit covered cock. 

"I need more than that for full points" he chuckled. 

"It's a musket that was first used by the ottoman empire in the fifteenth century" you said softly, eyes trained in his cock as you watched your hand move up his entire length then back down again. 

"Good girl" he smiled, "name another gun, this one from sixteenth century, and I'll let you suck my balls" Erwin purred. 

"Um," you thought for a moment while you watched his length in your palm, "the grenade musket?" You looked up at him unsure. 

"You're listening so well" he smiled wider, "here," he backed up his chair and stood up kicking off his shoes before fully removing his slacks and boxers. You watched as he folded them neatly and placed them on his desk, his erection drooling precum as he worked. You were right, his balls were large, they bounced against his thigh as he sat back down, "go one" he presented himself to you and you hungrily reveled in your earnings. 

Stroking his cock with one hand, you gripped his thigh for balance as you sucked one of his nuts into your mouth. Releasing it with a loud, wet pop before sucking on the other. Erwin gently played with your hair, watching his student diligently suck and lick at his tightening ball sack. 

"Just a bit more and then I'll have you answer a couple more questions" his voice was so deep and raspy, "if you get them all right I'll change your grade and I'll give you an extra reward for being such a good student for me today." 

Erwin finished the last of his lesson, face flushed and balls twitching for release in your hands. For a few moments he let out low groans as he watched you worshiping his cock, his large hands pushing your hair from your face so he could look into your eyes. 

"Good girl, just a little bit more then you have to swallow it all okay?" You nodded in understanding before dedicating yourself to making Erwin cum. Little moans and left his lips, his fingers raking through your hair trembled a bit as he got closer and closer to climax, "yes, just like that" he purred, voice rough and low, "such a good girl" he grunted, hands tightly gripping your hair in fists. He pushed you down as he thrusted up into your throat, thick bitter cum filling your mouth. You looked up at him with wet eyes, swallowing his large load as fast as you could before the excess could spill out. 

Erwin caught his breath, hands releasing your hair slowly. Strands that had broken in his tight grip clung to his skin as he leaned back, cock twitching between your lips. A few more spurts filled your mouth again before you finally removed it. Licking your lips you waited to find out what happens next, thrilled beyond belief at the wild sexy ideas rapidly churning in your mind. 

"Three questions, then your reward if you get them all correct" he smiled down at you, you nodded your head and waited with baited breath, "we'll just do vocabulary to make things easy, one: humanism." 

"A philosophy during the Renaissance that valued human thoughts and ideas. It led to the study of classical writings and art" you answered shakily, your heat desperate for whatever reward was in store for you. 

"Good, two: printing press" Erwin ran his fingers through his own hair, watching you look up at him needily. 

"A machine for reproducing written material with ink" your thighs trembled below you, you could feel the stick wetness in your panties squishing as you rubbed your legs together. 

"Three: indulgence" he chewed his lip, eyes fluttering closed as he waited for your answer. 

"A pardon that released someone from punishment for their sins" you whispered out the answer, awaiting the sinful reward you were bound to receive. 

"Very good" he stood up, cock half hard smacking against his thigh as he moved his chair, "remove your pants" he said over his shoulder as he pushed the chair against the wall. You did as requested, excited to feel him inside you, "elbows on the desk" he turned to face you as he finished unbuttoning his shirt, letting the cotton button up fall off his shoulders before he tugged off the white undershirt. You stood in awe of him for a moment, drinking in the sight of his beautifully chiseled body. 

You turned and pressed your elbows and palms on the desk, feeling a little nervous about his eyes on your exposed holes. You gasped as his large, warm hands gently ran down your ass then thighs. You heard him moving behind you, your eyes squeezed shut as you waited for him to do something. A surprised moan escaped you at the feeling of his tongue dragging over your slit, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit as he began a steady pace for lapping at your soaked cunt.

"Fuck" you breathed out, face pressed against the desk as Erwin earnestly devoured your pussy. He didn't let up as you trembled, his face pushing hard against you as he held your legs open, "oh my god!" You gasped as he inserted a finger, pushing deep inside you as he kept licking and sucking at your folds. He moved his finger inside you steadily faster and faster pulling whines and moans from your lips. 

"You taste delicious" he purred, breath hot against your wet skin. He leaned back to watch his finger disappearing inside you before adding a second, making you moan even louder, "quiet down a bit" he chuckled, "the room isn't sound proof" he got back to eating you as you tried, and failed, to keep your voice down. A few more loud moans, muffled a bit by your hands, left you before your pussy began spasming around his fingers just on the edge of climax. He chuckled as he pulled out of you, standing up he pressed the head of his cock against your hole. 

"Please Professor Smith" you begged, wiggling your ass impatiently, his strong hand holding your hip as he slowly impaled you, "amazing!" You mewled as his girth stretched you, a low groan left him once he was fully buried in you. 

"Ready?" He murmured, leaning down to kiss the back of your neck. 

"Yes, please fuck me sir!" You whined and he quickly gave it to you. His hips slamming into you over and over, large balls slapping your clit pulling back strings your arousal each time they swayed away again. Erwin held your waist tightly, gruff moans in the back of your neck as he filled you with his cock. 

"I'd love to have some more extra study sessions with you in the future" he purred in your ear as he slowed his hips, feeling your pussy trembling from your first orgasm, "I think it would really benefit you to have more one on one tutoring from me" he slammed in hard and stayed put, "right baby girl?" He kissed down the back of your neck as you whimpered out yes a few times. 

Large, hot hands feathered up your stomach under your shirt until he reached your breasts. His mouth still connected to your nape as he kneaded the supple flesh, his hips began slowly moving again. He thrusted slowly, fully to the hilt before pulling almost completely out again. He kept the slow pace for a few minutes as he murmured about how amazing it felt to be inside you. Erwin pulled you up with him as stood up a bit, hands still on your breasts as he fucked up into you. 

"Take your shirt off and sit on my desk" he breathed out as he released you. Head fuzzy and legs barely able to hold you up you did as he said, sitting completely bare on his desk Erwin smiled lazily and looked you up and down before standing between your thighs. He pulled your ass to the edge until your pussy hit his cock, "ready?" He smiled, inserting himself before you could even finish saying yes. You wrapped your legs around his hips as he fucked you, your hands holding his biceps as his hands wandered your exposed skin. 

"So good, so good!" You whined out, hanging your head back as the second orgasm washed over you. Erwin leaned down to kiss your throat, nipping gently at the skin as his hips slowed down again. He pushed you onto your back, hands squeezing your breasts as he watched his cock push into you. 

"I'm close" he whispered, grabbing your legs by the backs of your knees. Erwin pressed your knees to your chest, fucking as deep into you as he possibly could. Moving slowly to feel every inch of your insides as he could as you moaned and whimpered below him, body overheating and mind completely fucked dumb. A few more thrusts and he pushed all the way in, his cock twitching for release as he forced himself not to cum. Slowly he dragged out of you before exploding white ropes on your stomach and chest. 

Erwin let go of your legs and opened one of his drawers on the desk, pulling out a tissue box he attempted to clean you off. His hands shaking and eyes struggling to focus, tissues too weak to soak up the mess he'd made. 

"I'm sorry, just give me a moment" he mumbled, cock still drooling cum on his leg as he tried to focus. Instead he dropped to his knees and began eating you out again, overstimulation making it impossible to hold back your moaning. He licked up your slit then over your stomach, eating his seed off your skin as he slowly rose to his feet again. He murmured apologies as he licked you all over, getting distracted from the task of getting his cum off you to suck on your nipples. 

"Please, professor" you whined, head hung back as he fingered you and sucked on your breasts, "it's too much, I can't handle any more" you whimpered, hands pawing at his muscular back. 

"Just a little more" he smiled against your skin, "I'm getting hard again, do you think you can hold out for a little long?" You looked up at him through hazy eyes, Erwin was disheveled in the sexiest way imaginable. The thought that this man was so desperate to get his cock back inside you enough to make your pussy pulse around his fingers. 

"I can take it" you watched his eyes fill with delight as he stood up. 

"Thank you" he purred, "you're the best student I've ever had" his breath hitched as he pushed his cock back inside your overused hole, his shape still fucked into you he slid in easily. You let your professor have his way with you for another round, this one much shorter than the last. He at least had you suck him as he finished, cumming in your mouth required less cleanup. The two of you spent and panting, sitting on the floor of his office he pulled you into his wide chest, planting sloppy kisses on your cheek. 

"Professor Smith?" You swallowed nervously, the reality of it all hitting you. 

"Call me Erwin" he purred back, kissing down your neck. 

"Now what?" You held back a whine in reaction to his lips on your skin.

"Well," he sat up straight and cleared his throat, "why don't we schedule your extra study sessions for Fridays" he smiled, "you'll be a top student in no time." 

[theprincelyking]

TADC Headcanons (Mostly about their memories)

I’ve been thinking of headcounts for the circus. Just tiny parts of their lives that shine through in one form or another. If you want me to expand more on the specifics, let me know.

I think subconsciously they do retain some vague glimmer of their memories, which contributes to their personalities. And that small things can trigger something primal and unknown within them, for example:

…

Pom: “Ugh, we really are gonna be stuck here forever.” Jax: “Glad you managed to figure that out toots! After all, you gotta get used to the next how many years we’re gonna be in here.” Pom: “I’m gonna be old enough to be someone’s grandma.”

She looked over to see Jax’s eyes welling with tears, that threatened to spill out

Pom: “Ahh! Are you okay? Did I upset you?” Jax: “Ugh, right. Fair warning. Random words can set us off. For some reason, my body starts bugging out everytime I hear the word, "grandma". Tried to get Caine to fix it, but no luck.” . . .

But it can also be wholesome I betcha …

Ragatha was sitting at the table bored. Seemingly unimpressed with her plate of digital food

Pom: “…Are…Are you going to eat that?”

She slides it over to Pomni and she gingerly eats it

Pom: “Uhh…This place sure has…well food.” Rag: “Yeah. Nothing too interesting.” Pom: “True. I wish they had something more diverse…Like something seasoned, or something like desert. Ohh, I could really go for some beans.”

She smiles warmly at that

Rag: “I don’t know why, but everytime I hear the word "beans’" I feel weirdly happy. It’s almost nostalgic.” Pom: “Do you like beans?” Rag: “I don’t know. But I like that word a lot.” . . .

And some can be just plain weird …

Zooble was walking back to their room while Pomni followed

Pom: “So…What’s it like having…A body like that?” Zoo: “Hard to keep track of when your roommate keeps using your hand as a back scratcher. Also walking was a NIGHTMARE when I first got here.” Pom: “I can only imagine. It looks like a lot.” Zoo: “Yeah. It’s so annoying.”

Pomni nodded

Pom: “Well, maybe we could do something to get away from the others.” Zoo: “Not interested.” Pom: “Oh, that’s okay. Uhh, I guess I just wanted to forget about the whole…In a video game thing.” Zoo: “sigh I know it’s hard. But I’m not really the person you wanna hang out with.” Pom: “I’m sure your not a drag or anything. Ehh…I guess if you need me, I’ll be outside the tent. I think I saw a bunch of weird stuff outside. Balls, Board games. I think I even saw a pair of skates-”

Zooble immediately bursted out with laughter, almost falling to the floor, beating their mismatched feet on the ground as they wheezed hard at the word

Zooble: [censored] [censored] [censored]- Oh [censored], don’t say that word around me. It drives me nuts.” Pom: “Huh? Skates?” Zoo: WHEEZE . . .

And some are just…Completely out of left field … Pom: “Marco!” Rag: “Polo!”

They were in the digital lake, going on another one of Caine’s adventures. Thankfully today was rather simple. A pool party in the digital lake. Nothing more.

Pom: “Marco!” Jax: “Polo.”

Jax was using a giant rubber ducky to swim away from her immediately after that

Rag: “Hey! That’s not fair!” Jax: “Oh please, she’ll be fine.” Pom: “Marco!” Gang: “…Help?”

Pomni unblindfolded herself and could see Gangle, sort of stuck to the surface of the water…It didn’t seem like she could move. Pomni picked her up and she wrapped herself around her head, sort of creating a cute little bow on her head

Gang: “Oh that’s better, so cold…” Rag: “I was wondering where she was.” Jax: “I wasn’t.”

Pomni akwardly patted her mask and put back on the blindfold. She drifted in the water a bit before yelling out again

Pomni: “Marco!” Kinger: “I’ll have the Neapolitan cappuccino, More Cappa than Chino. Make sure it's got no more than 4oz of milk, The beans won't have the right texture otherwise-“

He explained in disturbing detail a very lengthy coffee order, which completely stopped the game.

Pom: “…Okay, maybe we should take a break.” Zoo: “I agree, especially since Jax is using my FACE AS A F[censored]G FOOTREST!”

Looks like Zooble also came apart in the water. And was not happy about it.

Rag: “I got your arm!” King: “…Oh!”

He paddles over with their torso, using it as a board to propel himself across

King: “Here you go!” Zoo: “…Gee. Thanks.”

They sneered a bit

[adobe-outdesign]

geodude line review pls plus the alolan forms

Geodude is a rock with a face and arms. Which is great if you like rocks with faces and arms. It's not my favorite rock creature (I'm more of a Roggenrola person myself), but it is simple and straightforward, and the concept of a boulder creature that rolls around to move is pretty fun. Not much to talk about visually, other than it being a very low-contrast design. Also, I like the segmented mouth.

Graveler always seemed like just a better Geodude to me. It's the same premise—monotone boulder creature that rolls around with a face and arms—but they do an interesting thing by making the face smaller, adding a ridged, craggy area above said face, and giving it not one, but two sets of extra limbs. It adds a lot of interest and fleshes out the premise while not really changing anything too drastically. Surely the next evolution will be even better, right?

Nope, never mind.

I mean, I don't hate Golem—the reptilian features are interesting and provide a unique twist on the basic rock monster model, and hey, it's at least unique. But it does undeniably come out of the left field, sporting a higher-contrast body, a separate head and limbs, and reducing the number of said limbs down to four.

I've heard a lot of speculation as to why, but most of it is just that, baseless speculation. The most likely reason is that it's a Blastoise situation, wherein two separate rock creatures got merged early in development to avoid repetition. Regardless, that doesn't make it work any better with the rest of the line.

Also, as a design itself, I can't help but not like it as much as Graveler anyway. The head makes it impossible to roll despite the 'dex claiming otherwise, and the overall design is just less coherent. Like I said, the reptilian parts are interesting, but that's about all it has going for it.

Alolan Geodude is actually pretty solid. It drops the rock/ground typing (which I always found confusing anyway; what about the original justified it being ground?) in favor of rock/electric, represented by adding some magnetic shavings to the body.

These shavings really help the design, mostly because they greatly increase the contrast and help break things up without over-complicating anything. Those big 'ol black eyebrows just feel right, and the addition of "hair" is fun.

In addition, this design also makes the body more of a gray color (once again, fits with the dropped ground typing) and reduces the hands down to two mitten-like structures, which does feel good given the shape of the body. Overall, a solid improvement across the board.

Unfortunately, things go downhill a bit when we get to A. Graveler. The eyebrows still look great, and I like the little shavings that accent the head ridge as well. It still retains the similar mitten-like hands, the shape of which now really compliment said head ridge.

However, it randomly adds these yellowish-orange crystals all over its body, which I just do not get. They compete too much with the shavings, and they feel like an afterthought. I guess the idea was to add more color to the design? But they already fixed the low-contrast issue with the shavings. Maybe they wanted yellow to hint at the electric-typing more? Who knows. Either way, the design would look much better without them.

Also, for some reason it goes back to a brownish color instead of retaining the cooler gray of A. Geodude. Why? The gray not only looked better, but further helped with the contrast, and dropping it just reduces the line's coherency.

And A. Golem... yeah no, never mind.

The shavings have progressed from body hair to a straight-up beard, which is fine, I guess, though something about the body hair kind of worked; maybe it's just because it added to the "strength" idea with Graveler's bare arms, whereas the beard just feels random.

However, the beard wouldn't be too bad in and of itself... except they also added a giant rail gun to its back. It's just like, what? Why?? Where did that come from? I know that it's electric-type, but there was no thematic build-up to this (unless you count the inside yellow crystals from Graveler). It competes way too much with the beard, and makes the overall concept harder to disconcern.

Also, even putting that aside, the colors are really muddied here (still retaining the brownish color while using three different shades of gray/brown, none of which are high enough contrast), and it has these really weird baby arms. The simplified toes look good at least, and I do like the extra definition added to the face with the eyebrow ridges, but this really does not work as a whole. Which is a shame, because A. Geodude was a fantastic start.

As a whole, the original line is simple but effective, bogged down only by the sharp turn into Golem. The Alolan line starts off strong and tries to improve the design a bit, but unfortunately gets bogged down with too many details as it goes on.

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

What piece of flesh do you think each Divine Warrior (other than Irene and Shad) sacrificed for godhood?

I have some guesses but I feel like you, the cannibal coniseur, have a better understanding.

Menphia - Her tail, as a meif'wa it is both her pride and joy and something used to keep balance.

Enki - His left ring finger. Magick is all in the hands so removing a finger is the same way as losing a wand. Can possibly limit control?

Esmund - At a loss, though maybe simply losing his humanity to become a God is enough for him? Maybe one of his kidneys.

TW, cannibalism. also, castration.

it really depends on WHO becomes patron of their godhood. I have answers for Shad and Irene, but not so much for gods outside of them two. it doesn't just depend on the ascending, but also their patron. And there are other gods.

With Irene as their Patron:

Menphia, the tail does work very well. It's an incredibly important aspect of how Mei'fwa move, and a big part of their identity. As a warrior, menphia would rely a lot on movement, and Irene would love to just... make that a little harder for her.

Enki, I think something a little more personal. Something that still impacts his magic, but is slightly more... invasive. Some brain matter, perhaps? A human can survive with only one hemisphere of their brain, and even learn to exist the exact same way they did before... but Irene would certainly love to watch him try and adjust to missing such a large part of his hippocampus.

Esmund, Loss of humanity, hm? Irene is a sucker for a metaphor. Whilst she isn't as centred on heart-consumption as Avra, why not indulge in a little bit of poetics? The Protector, who desires to retain his humanity, being literally heartless? That's amusing. maybe not my most creative idea, but... hm.

With Shad as their Patron:

Menphia, the tail thing probably wouldn't work. Shad is very centred on wanting to be able to exist as he is, he wouldn't go ahead and remove a notable non-human trait from someone. If she sacrifices it with Shad as her patron, that was a self-made decision. Shad also wouldn't eat her eyes, though, due to... meif'wa cat eyes and all. He'd settle for a thumb, perhaps. Giving up her ability to punch or hold a weapon in one hand, so that she may have a better ability to do as such in the other.

Enki, going along with the finger trend, yeah, he'd be the one to take Enki's finger. Shad is not overly cruel with his sacrifices, but he does know they need to have an impact. He prefers extremities to internal guts, when it comes to his friends at least.

Esmund, wouldn't have Shad as his patron, idk what to tell you. They don't mesh well, for a number of reasons, and Irene would prefer to keep Esmund. Who better to patron the Protector than the faux-sweet child-murderer? so... nothing.

HOWEVER--

(since i have Xavier in my divine warriors in LR, and he was the original SK)

whilst shad wouldn't Patron Xavier's godhood (considering Xavier being a sort of paladin type, sworn to a god - Irene - but not one himself), he would make a bit of a joke about being the Patron to Xavier's knighthood. He would ensure that the sacrifice would keep in line with a knight's most valuable vow... his vow of celibacy.

[dingbatnix]

Slime

Who's ready for some angst?

So anyway I have a different fic (the snippet I posted just a second ago) I wanted to do for valentine's, but that one is nowhere near finished, and this one is, so. Y'know.

It's kinda badly written, buuuut I don't care. I'm so very tired o~0

Anyway, enjoy!

Warnings:: Fear of death, dehumanization, ect.

Word Count: 3,070

Karl can't speak in his gummy/true form—which I've decided to use for angst.

He is a relative of the slime family, kinda like Slimecicle, but Karl can’t really control his form when he’s stressed/has lost too much mass. He mostly violet/purple, but his limbs do have a slight gradient to blue/teal. He is much younger than Slimecicle, and has not lived in a hole for centuries, so he has a much, much better understanding of retaining a human form and shape than Charlie does.

So anyway, he gets stuck in his true form for some reason, like exhaustion or stress.

It's equated to damage, like slime hybrids in osmp. He gets attacked by a mob of zombies, loses his ability to retain human-ish shape, and loses enough mass to be small, like a foot tall small. If he had enough to eat, and wasn't super stressed, maybe he'd be able to gain back enough mass to become his human self again, but, as it is, he can't.

And he can't speak, either. His two fiancés, Sap and Q, don't know about his true form, and he's scared of what they might do to him if they catch him (while Sap and Q are very kind to him, in his human form, he didn't want to risk it. Quackity had a mean streak twenty miles wide, and Sapnap did enjoy killing things. Especially pets. What if he got mistaken for a hostile mob? He was a slime, after all) so, he tries to hide in Kinoko.

But! After a few too many close calls, he decides that it would be better for him to go somewhere else, so he travels out of Kinoko into the main Smp. This leads to him getting caught by some curious people (Tubbo, Ranboo, and Michael) who think that Karl's just a strange, somewhat intelligent, mob. They end up keeping him in a cage as a cool new pet, and poor Karl doesn't have anything to write with or signify that he's not an animal, dangit. A pencil wouldn't really be much use, because he didn't actually have fingers in his slime form, but still. He could have worked it out.

The teens weren't so bad, he supposed, but they treat him like he’s a cat or a dog or something, and it just feels demeaning. So, he devises a plan to escape. It’s really not that hard, actually, he just has to squish his malleable body through the bars of his kennel and make his way out the door. The snow outside poses a bit of a problem for his semi-liquid body, but he is the consistency of jello. It helps him a little bit, but some of his body mass freezes off, leaving him even smaller. Eventually, though, he manages to get out of the tundra and starts making his way back to Kinoko, because even if he gets caught and treated like a pet by Sap, Q and Goggy, at least it'd be safer. At least it'd be by people he trusted. At least it'd be by the people he loved. And even if they kill him, at least he wouldn’t have to live as somebody’s pet anymore.

Meanwhile, Sap and Q are freaking out, cause they can't find Karl anywhere, and it's bordering on four weeks that he's been missing. They’ve nearly turned the Smp upside-down looking for him, and unfortunately, nobody else has seen Karl, either.

So when Karl finally makes it out of the tundra, he still can't change back. He's just so stressed with everything going on, so when he eventually gets to Kinoko, he's faced with a choice: hide again, or show himself to try and communicate with the other residents of Kinoko.

He made the easy choice. He decides to find his fiancés.

The two were in the courtyard, Quackity reading through some documents piled next to him and Sapnap sparring against a training dummy. He approached them carefully, hiding behind barrels and building fixtures until he was close enough to reveal himself to Quackity. (He was not going near Sapnap with a sword, not when he looked like this. That was a good way to get cleaved in half.

He finally revealed himself to Quackity, stepping out from the shadows and tugging on the avian’s pant leg. Quackity shrieked, flailing enough to tip his wicker chair over and scatter his papers across the stones of the courtyard. Sapnap heard Quackity scream and was running in a flash, brandishing his sword towards Karl as he sprinted over.

Karl’s heart stopped. He had the opportunity to run, in the short time before Sanap arrived and speared him through, but…this was the first time he had seen either of his fiancés since he first got stuck like this. It had been nearly a month. And now, Sapnap was about to kill him, and they’d. They’d never know. They’d never know that it was him.

Karl’s legs wobbled, and then all but melted beneath his body. He threw his arms over his head and curled in on himself, his entire being quivering in fear and despair. He didn’t want to see Sapnap kill him, didn’t want to see one of the loves of his life deliver the final blow.

Sapnap skidded to a stop just as he reached them, head cocking in confusion as the little purple slime folded in on itself upon his arrival. The entire mass was wiggling, almost like it was afraid of him. Curiously, he poked it with the tip of his sword and was rewarded by it unfurling and trying to scramble away on its back. Beady little dot eyes blinked at him, wide and glimmering in the morning light.

"Hey! It's colored like one of Karl's hoodies! Like, y'know, the blue and purple one?" Sapanp realized, a grin spreading across his face as he shot a glance at Quackity. The avian, who had been crouched behind his overturned wicker chair, peeked over it at the slime's splayed out body. Sapnap was right. It did look like one of Karl’s hoodies.

“So it does,” he agreed, climbing to his feet and approaching Karl. “It…it seems more scared than hostile.” Karl nodded frantically at the avian’s words, scooching backwards as Quackity grew closer. Quackity paused in surprise and shared a look with Sapnap. He waved at the fireborn to put away his sword and turned back to the shivering slime on the ground.

“Hey,” he murmured, crouching slowly down to inspect the little slime. “Can you understand us?” At Karl’s hurried nod, a pensive frown stretched across his face. “...can you speak?”

Karl slowly shook his head, feeling strangely ashamed.

After some contemplation, he turned back to Sapnap with a curious expression on his face. “I think it’s like Charlie. Just…not quite as developed, maybe? Cause Charlie can talk, even when he’s small.”

Sapnap snorted out a small laugh. “Don’t let Charlie hear you say that. He’ll freak out over his ‘cover’ being blown.” All the same, he joined Quackity in inspecting Karl.

Karl deflated at the remark. While it wasn’t meant to hurt him, it still smarted. Charlie was older than he was! By several centuries! Of course he’d have better control over his body!

He waved his arms furiously, gesturing towards himself, and then towards Sapnap and Quackity. He was trying to tell them that it was him, that he was Karl, but they just didn’t seem to understand!

He couldn't sign either, he didn't. Have. Fingers.

He was still himself! He was still Karl…he guessed the others didn't realize that. He guessed they couldn't tell. They wouldn't have any reason to think that he, the strange little slime creature that wandered up to them, was their fiancé.

Unbidden, his eyes started to burn, and tears sprung to his eyes. Karl scrubbed at his eyes furiously. He didn't want to cry! Of all the things he couldn't do in his slime form, why wasn't crying one of them?!

"It's crying! Dude, I think you hurt its feelings! What do we do?" Sapnap exclaimed, tail twitching and flicking anxiously. Quackity shrugged, eyes guilty. “I dunno, man! I didn’t know slimes could cry! Charlie never has!”

Sapnap bit his lip, thinking, then scooped Karl up into his arms. “Hey, it’s okay, little guy. I know Quackity can be a dick sometimes, but don’t take it to heart. It’ll be okay, okay?” Sapnap ignored the affronted noise that the avian made and gently stroked his fingers over Karl’s head while making cooing noises. Karl took the gesture of comfort for what it was, burying his head against Sapnap’s chest and sobbing into the fireborn’s shirt. He poured the pent-up emotions of being trapped in a cage for days and treated like an animal, of being half frozen, of being afraid and unable to speak for weeks into Sapnap’s shirt, soaking it through with fluids he probably couldn’t afford to lose. If he kept crying like he was, he'd start losing more mass. He didn’t want that. Not when it was so hard to gain back.

Karl cries for a long, long while. Sapnap and Quackity don’t really know what to do, because that’s obviously not because of Quackity’s remark, but something that had built up over time.

They decide to take in the little slime, letting it live with them as long as it wanted to.

For Karl, their decision was a godsend, because he could rest and recover in a familiar place, with people he loved. He was allowed to roam wherever he wanted (which is a step up from the cage Tubbo had him in) and he stayed with at least one of his fiancés every day. Unfortunately, he was still stuck in his slime form, no matter what he tried.

Despite everything, Sapnap was rather…dense. And most of the time, Quackity was either busy with his affairs with Las Nevadas, or he was looking for Karl. Neither of them ever realized that he was with them, nearly all of the time.

And no matter how much he tried, he couldn't get his hands on an inked quill and a piece of paper. The frustration had reduced him to stinging tears, and it took him a while more before he gave up and accepted that he'd probably never get to tell his fiancés who he was.

It was fine. He would be fine.

He would.

_______

Quackity found himself becoming rather fond of the little slime over the few weeks it had been with them, and he was absolutely delighted on the days it decided to hang around with him. It usually alternated between himself and Sapnap, and sometimes didn’t go with either of them, but today it had decided to spend its time with him.

Right now, it was hanging from his neck like a sloth, or perhaps a koala would, as he made his way along one of the many paths of Las Nevadas. He was headed to the casino today, needing to do a checkup on the slot machines and make sure that nobody had tampered with anything.

A green, semi-translucent figure bounced towards Quackity, and a fond smile grew across his face as Charlie barreled closer. He raised a hand in preparation to greet the slime. Charlie’s face lit up, and he sped towards Quackity at a much more rapid pace, his own gelatinous arm raised to meet the avian’s.

"Hello, Quackity from Las Nevadas! Hello, Karl from Kinoko Kingdom!" A green palm slapped his own, but Quackity was too startled to respond to the slime’s exuberant greeting. Karl was here?!

Quackity jerked ramrod straight, and his head whipped from side to side, wildly searching the surrounding buildings. "Karl?"

The little purple slime frantically patted Quackity's chest, nearly losing its one-armed grip around the avian's neck. Quackity looked down at it with sad eyes, confusion clear in his face.

Karl slapped his own chest, staring imploringly at the big avian. To his utter disappointment, Quackity looked away from him and back up at Charlie.

"Wh–where's Karl, Charlie? Where did you see him?" The avian sounded desperate, and it hurt, to hear Quackity call for him when he was right there. Karl’s eyes stung, and he sent a pleading look Charlie’s way. The bigger slime met his gaze, and a small, sympathetic grin formed over his face.

Very gently, the bigger slime leaned forward and patted one green hand on top of Karl's head. "Karl from Kinoko Kingdom." The green slime said plainly, moving his gaze from Karl up to Quackity’s.

Karl nodded frantically, twisting his hand-nubs into Quackity's rumpled dress shirt and bracing his legs against the avian’s sternum. He pulled himself up, high enough that he was face-to-nose with Quackity, and waved frantically between himself and Charlie. His movements were so violent that he lost his grip, and panic strummed though his body when he tipped backwards and fell.

His back smacked against something oddly lumpy, and he realized that Quackity had brought his hands up to catch him, even while he was staring at him as if he was in some kind of daze.

Finally, Quackity blinked several times and hesitantly brushed his thumb along Karl’s arm, almost as if he thought the slime would disappear at a moment's notice.

“Y-You’re Karl?!” His voice was shaking, and his eyes were watering. Karl nodded frantically, curling one of his hand-nubs around Quackity’s thumb. The line of the avian’s mouth wavered, and he wiped his eyes on his shoulder before turning to Charlie.

"Charlie, why can't he talk?"

"He's been de-gooped, Quackity from Las Nevadas. He doesn't have enough of himself to form properly." Charlie paused for a long moment, then. "Not that I know anything about that, seeing as I am a perfectly normal human being with perfectly normal human bones."

Quackity didn’t bother answering, instead staring down at the little purple slime draped over his hands. Karl had been with them the entire time…? Karl had been with them while they were looking for him…

An incredulous laugh escaped from his lips, and soon, he found himself doubled over, Karl clutched to his chest, cackling like a madman as a wave of emotion overcame him.

Karl found himself squished against a layer of smoky cotton as he was squeezed to Quackity’s chest in a desperate hug, the scent of cigarettes and the dusty smell of sand pervading his senses from the tight embrace.

After what felt like too much time and not enough, Quackity loosened his grip on Karl’s body, and his laughter petered out. A doofy grin still decorated his face, and his eyes were scanning over Karl like he’d never seen him before.

Seconds later, his eyes widened, and his grin grew. “I gotta tell Sapnap! Holy fuck he’s gonna be so happy!”

Quackity shifted Karl to one arm and pulled his communicator out with the other. It took him a few seconds to do it one handed, but Karl saw him pull up Sapnap’s contact and hit call. It rang for a few moments, before their third picked up. “Yea–”

“Sapnap, Sapnap, I fucking found Karl.” Quackity didn’t even pause to let Sapnap get a word in, bowling over anything the other man had to say. “Sapnap, he’s the fucking slime, he’s fucking been here the whole goddamn time!”

“Oh my fucking god.”

“I fucking know!” Quackity grinned down at Karl, cradled in the crook of his left arm. Karl waved back up at him, eyes scrunched up in joy.

“I’m headed over there right now. Don’t you two fucking move, got it?”

Quackity laughed and planted himself on a bench on the side of the road, pulling Karl into his lap and hugging the little slime to his chest. “We won’t, we won’t. We’ll be here, dude.”

Quackity hung up and shoved his communicator back into his pocket. His other arm circled around Karl’s pliable body, and he looked down at the slime, eyes wide with wonder.

“Dude, what the fuck,” he whispered, and all Karl could do was shrug, chest feeling lighter than it had in a long, long while.

Charlie wandered away while they waited, stating that he needed to go check his holes (Quackity needed to fill some of those in, he’d nearly broken his ankle about eight times) leaving the two of them to wait for their third.

When Sapnap finally arrived, he made a beeline for the little purple slime resting in Quackity’s lap, sprinting through town and skidding to a stop right in front of them.

He immediately reached for Karl, his warm hands surrounding his torso and his thumbs pressing against Karl's chest. He was plucked up from Quackity’s arms before he could blink, and then he was brought towards Sapnap’s face.

The huge fireborn pressed a kiss against Karl’s face, lips as big as his head smothering against his face. He leaned into it, wrapping his arms around Sapnap's cheeks and jawline in an awkward hug. It was a good thing he didn't technically breathe through his nonexistent mouth, because he'd be suffocating from how long his face was being squashed into Sapnap's lips.

Then he was being squished against the fireborn's stubbled cheek, a deep, elated purr jiggling his entire body. Karl leaned into it, burying his face into Sapnap's cheek and wrapping himself in the familiar, comforting scent of charcoal and dirt. It felt different now, now that they knew.

Sapnap held him at arms length, hands still wrapped firmly around his chest. Karl’s legs dangled limply below, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Sapnap asked earnestly. Karl shot him a flat look and getsured first at his mouthless face, then at his fingerless hand-nubs, and then finally over his whole body in general. The fireborn winced, realizing that Karl physically couldn’t.

It was fine now, though, because they finally knew.

When they finally went to bed that night, he was cocooned between their chests, in a warm embrace formed by the blanket and the two bodies of his fiancés. He wasn’t a pet, he wasn’t dead, and they. Knew.

He still couldn’t build up enough body mass to grow back to normal size and retain his human shape, but it was more bearable now, now that his fiancés knew who he was.

Taglist!

@brick-a-doodle-do @i-am-beckyu @da3dm @kayla-crazy-stuffs @local-squishmallow @skullsnbruises @munchkin1156 @gt-daboss

[ephemerlskies]

The Stars as They Appear Above Us | pjm

⇢ pairing: jimin x reader

[other members: hoseok, taehyung]

⇢ genre: one-shot, angst, fluff, heartbreak au, college au, strangers to lovers au

⇢ rating: pg-13

⇢ word count: 19.6k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, mentions of death, mentions of homophobia, themes of grief, themes of depression/anxiety, alcohol consumption, codependency, many emotional ramblings and existential crises.

⇢ summary: misery loves company. against better judgment, yours sought out Jimin's. from one chance encounter to another, the question of whether your heart could brave the wreckage of loss and still retain the capacity to love again drew closer and closer to finding an answer.

alternatively

“Do you think the stars will remember us?"

inspiration: francis forever by mitski and mikrokosmos by bts

a/n: for my lovely readers. if you have yet to find love in yourself, i hope one day you do. i hope you can rejoice in the beauty and splendor of being you.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

"I think I'm falling out of love with you."

You wished what he said felt sharp where it struck your chest. That it would puncture the skin, clean and precise, leaving behind a sure but manageable ache.

No, this was dull.

This forced its way through flesh and met the bone with an unforgiving rage. A cruel promise that no matter how this wound healed, the scar would always remind the world of just how true his sentiment was.

"Wh-" Taehyung's hand found yours. You were tempted to withdraw, knowing comfort would only remind you of the very pain he'd inflicted. "What..."

You stopped yourself from asking how. You weren't sure you wanted to harbor the reason as to why you stopped being lovable to him. You weren't sure, because you couldn't defend yourself, his mind made up as sure as your heart broke. There was no evidence, no witness, no judge. Nothing, but the rawness of giving yourself entirely to him. Loving him, even when the world reminded you of just how fragile and damning of an act it was. You placed your heart in his hands without knowing it was a trial, without knowing it could end in a death sentence.

"I'm sorry..." As if it could resolve anything, he squeezed your hand. Maybe to remind you to breathe, the way he always had. Maybe to ease his own heart, pulsing hard enough to give life to another body.

There was a beat of heavy silence. A moment to stall, collect every bit of strength, and look into his eyes before you became a supporting character in his story.

"That's all?"

"What?" Surprise seized his eyes.

"Is that all you have to say to me?"

Your throat was tight; it didn't offer much, but it gave what was necessary. More importantly, it withheld what was too vulnerable to reveal.

Because he had everything else that was supposed to be yours. Your soul, your purpose, and worst of all your love. But not your pain, that was something you writhed with, the way a storm-front meets land. It would devastate all the beauty you created, how else to prove your power over something but by destroying it completely? This anguish, this was yours.

"Come on, ___. Don't be this way." Making demands of you after he plunged his bloodied hands into your chest, only to give back what he'd rejected, he knew his power.

"Don't be what way, Tae?" The heat in your face flared, you swore it lit something within you. "You want me to scream at you? You want me on my knees pleading? I'm not going to give you anything else, Tae. Not after I've spent three years giving you everything just to make you happy. I can't. I... I have nothing left. You win."

"___, it's not about winning. You think I feel so fucking great about doing this? I wanted to deny it, shit, I have been denying it because it's you, ___." The way he laughed out spite like an illness, you knew what was about to come. "You know what I think of you. You're the one I fought for. You know how much I care about you, how much of your dreams are no different than my own. I think you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen. You amaze me and inspire me-"

"But not enough to be loved by you." It humored you how these praises fell from his lips. There was no way to explain how he can recite such intimate musings about your character one minute, then reject it all in another.

"___..." You wished he would stop saying your name. Taehyung called to you with too much love to keep your denial at bay. It hurt to be held by him now, even if it was just the way his voice held your name. "Please, let me explain."

"I was waiting for you to say that." You knew you were being cruel, but both you and Taehyung understood it wasn't entirely undeserved.

"I just feel like the only thing keeping us together is familiarity, like being together is a habit not a choice."

He paused, most likely with the hopes you would miraculously agree, that some sort of forgiveness would be surrendered. It was never that easy, though, not when it came to you and him.

"I feel like I'm standing still, and you're moving forward... or the other way around. But either way, I feel this distance that I don't know how to close." You did not have to look at him to know there were tears pooling in his eyes. "___, most of the time when we're together, I feel as though it wouldn't make a difference if I were there or not."

If it was neglect he was accusing you of, your tongue felt a sting to remind him all the late nights you two spent over how he kept the rest of his life so separate. How little words were exchanged over dinner when recounting your days apart. The number of opened and unanswered texts that sit in the graveyard of your messages.

"I'm not saying I am perfect either, I know I'm contributing to this emptiness in our relationship. I don't think I understand you, and it hurts to admit that I fall so short as your partner." Of course, he knew what you were thinking. He knew exactly how to respond to the words that were never kind enough to bring to life. "I just... we need to be honest with ourselves. We need to be honest about if we really understand what we need in life. If we know for sure that it's each other."

"Well, I guess there is a difference between us."

He was cautious, keen of your tendency to be quick witted before you could be transparent. Taehyung's eyes trailed along the outline of your body in preparation to defend himself.

"Even though I feel distance and there are issues between us and our relationship isn't always perfect, I would never give up on you." It was brutal, the way you spoke felt like inhaling fire, but at least you weren't the only one burned.

"It's not always as simple as love. Love isn't the only thing that keeps a relationship alive. How can we grow as a couple when you never let me get close enough to try?"

Your eyes seared. He found the wound. He knew exactly where to apply pressure.

"I didn't know trying was such a burden for you." Frankly, you found it difficult to locate what exactly he meant by this, but your heart hurt all the same. "Just so you know... falling out of love will be much harder for me."

Taehyung wondered how you could admit love as though it were a sin, how he had become the one who assigned punishment, how this hadn't stopped him from feeling the need to ask for forgiveness. And still you were able to lift yourself from where you sat, and walk away.

"___, I'm scared." It was true, you felt what one could only describe as desperation pooling in his words.

"Me too." Admitting this was far more crucifying than admitting your heart would always beat for someone who had forgotten how to love you back.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

It was difficult to look in the mirror. The person staring back looked so much like the person he loved. But that wasn't you anymore. The person in the mirror was the ghost. What worried you even more was the idea of someone finding out what a lie this was. This body of yours, each piece stacked so neatly, as though you could be anything more than shards of loneliness that cut with each step you took. As though you didn't live your life checking the ground that follows you, ensuring fragments of your soul were not being left behind.

There was no rule book on how to remain whole after a heartbreak. How to fill the nights with warmth and the mornings with meaning.

Taehyung would always remind you to lock the door, but it never felt so simple.

Lock the door, angel, don't forget!

Lock the door, I love that you forget. I love being the one to remind you.

Lock the door, and never stop forgetting. Never stop letting me remind you.

You stared at the doorknob until it started to feel like a broken promise, and it delivered your eyes a new kind of pain. One that couldn't render tears, because you were all cried out. Maybe if you forgot this time, he would come running to remind you once again. The way he always did. You sighed then winced. The click of the lock sent a shooting pain in your ear.

I'm falling out of love with you.

This confession began to feel more like an accusation. Your mind tucked his words deep. It never failed to rear its head right before you loosened your fist or a smile took hold of you, right before you almost let your body belong in the world with ease.

"Excuse me, you're next." A voice broke through your daze.

This has been happening frequently. One moment, you're gripping the doorknob. Another, you find yourself in a cafe, or a grocery store, or a parking lot of a grocery store. Your body moved through the world as a chore, abusing the skill of muscle memory to no end. You stopped caring where it took you, because you knew it wouldn't be with him.

"Sorry..." Your voice dragged along your tongue like a limbless creature. "I'm sorry you go ahead."

If you hadn't been zoning in on a specifically worn floor tile, you would have noticed the person behind you. Their eyes, thick with concern, studied you and politely yet firmly ignored the offer to pass you in line.

"You can go, I don't know-"

"Let me buy you your drink." He sounded like rain falling against the world. Inviting, comforting, and timid, asking permission in the gentle way raindrops cling to the openness of a window. It was momentary, the idea of sneaking through the back door to let him fall against your skin.

"No." You were quick to respond. Your heart ached you into a habit of rejecting kindness when you knew you needed it most. "No, you don't have to."

You didn't feel his body brush past you. Could he have somehow known as well, you needed a small kindness?

"Would it be too cliché of me to say I know I don't have to?" He said.

"Yes, and it would be even worse if you also said 'I know I don't have to, I want to.'" Your eyes finally peeled away from that jagged tile, and met his.

There was a smile woven into the way his voice sounded. It struck wonder in you, how he could vocalize something as invisible as joy. Within seconds, he made the intangible into something physical, something you could hold onto. Something a little less fleeting than the feeling itself.

"I'm Jimin. And I swear I'm like... super cool and unique so I won't say that." His hand, extended out to you, looked so soft. Almost as though if you dared to touch it, you would damage something. The tenderness adorning his body only sought to exemplify the sharpness of your own.

But, your desire to quell an awkward handshake rejection triumphed over your fear of destroying a purity you could not find in yourself. And you were right, his hand stretched so gently around yours. You swore it could have melted if you held on too long.

"___. And I swear I'm not always this cynical." It was a half-lie, but today a doorknob made you cry, so you had to defend yourself in some way.

"I think it's kinda charming." He laughed at himself, "I mean, not only did you ignore me in line, but you also managed to call me cliché before I even had the chance to be cliché."

"Actually, I think I was just doing you a favor. Giving you another chance to say something more original." This was the first time you let yourself smile without seeking repentance. Your joy was not a crime with this stranger.

"Mm... well, let me think." You could see in his eyes, he was piecing the unlikely together. "You want a cappuccino with a little bit of brown sugar?"

"How are you so sure of yourself?" Your brows furrowed, a hint of intrigue in your voice guiding him like a light.

"Well, you said you didn't know what you wanted yet, but I haven't seen you look at the menu once. Which tells me you probably do know what you're going to order, you just couldn't for some reason." He paused, and by now you knew it was to observe and conclude an honesty you buried somewhere no one cared to upend. "Judging by the slight dark circles under your eyes, and the fact that you yawned about three times during this conversation, you haven't had your daily dose. And in more ways than one, you seem tired."

You felt your body giving in. He was right, you were tired. So, very tired.

"That doesn't explain the brown sugar part." Speaking to him was easy. You wondered if he felt the same way.

"You just seem like someone who appreciates something sweet in life." Everything he said felt like a riddle, like there was an answer hidden in the crooks of his words.

"Jimin, you make quite the first impression. Are you always this invasive upon first meeting people?"

"Honestly? Yes, but specifically because I've seen you here quite a bit and I've become somewhat acquainted with you." Your head slanted and an urgency fell over Jimin, "I mean... in my head. You're around here a lot, and I've come to expect to see you. Kinda like how you expect to see the same buildings outside your window or whatever."

"I've never been compared to a building before. I'm flattered. It's nice to finally meet you." When he smiled, it offered more than you once thought capable of accepting. There was a dynamic you caught onto far before he did. Neither of you knew each other, however that only seemed to beckon both of your willingness to unravel the best parts of yourself, and hope to god it was as real and as good as it felt.

"Well, are you going to buy me a drink or not?" Jimin was quick to step towards the register.

It was easy to discern you were not alone under siege of his charm. The way he moved through the world, as though it was his to arrange and rearrange. How common it must be for him to acquire small talk and fond goodbyes like collector's items, how many people he must leave wanting more from him. Some quiet part of you ached to know where you belonged in his world, or rather if you belonged at all.

"What do you do? What's your thing?" His elbows rested on the counter with familiarity.

"I'm an artist. Painting, mostly. But I appreciate charcoal more these days. And, I- why are you looking at me like that?" You asked, couldn't help yourself. The way his eyes bore an opening into you was hard to ignore.

"Nothing, just kinda had a feeling you were some sort of artist. The paint stains on your jeans gave it away, if I'm being honest. I'm sure you create beautiful things, ___." It was so easy to let your eyes linger, even when his brightness overtook your vision and especially when he smiled.

"You don't know that. You've never seen my work." Your palm cupped your chin, and you put your fingers to good use, gating the smile that couldn't be subdued.

"Don't have to, you don't seem dense or shallow enough to make bad art."

This conversation uplifted in you something so close to hope. Enough so that when he paved the way to an open table, you followed him like it was a reflex.

"You're... presumptuous." Your will began to subside. The chance of this door you put up to the world remaining felt frayed. He'd find a way to open it. Perhaps he'd already found one.

"Aren't you going to ask me what I do?" His words were playful, enticing you into a game that seemed to have no real winners or losers, just a chance to participate.

"What do you do, Jimin." Your tone indicated you were in fact amused by his prodding. That you were more than willing to participate.

"I'm a writer. Mostly poetry, maybe I'll start a manuscript some day. But I'm not sure I'm cut out for something like that, you know?"

It was after he said that that you noticed a delicate dim in the lightness his voice carried.

"Honestly? I don't know, why wouldn't you be?"

Jimin hadn't been able to recall this budding hesitation when it came to talking with strangers. Usually, people would agree tentatively and construct a weak sincerity in response to him talking of his artistic abilities, or lack thereof. You however, inquired less about what he said and more on why he said it. In other words, people tend to deny consideration where it was inconvenient, but not you.

"I just- it's harder to create a story, and characters. I worry the world would look wrong the way I portray it. That it might give something away about myself I'd rather not reveal..." His neck, sheltered by his palm, grew warm. This feeling with you had felt like a forgotten memory, all the more exciting. He found that more than anything, he wanted to reunite with it.

"Ah, well. I don't know, Jimin. Within the little time I've known you, you've already read me pretty accurately. I really hate admitting that, but it's true." That smile, his eyes waning like two crescent moons, felt like encouragement. "You see people, things that are never displayed through physical indications. You voice the things people wish they saw in themselves so plainly, as if you could see it written on their skin. I think a story would come to life if you wrote it."

"That's..." As a writer, it was rare for words to be at a distance to Jimin, and yet. "You're... so..."

"Don't" Your head shook. "You don't have to. It wasn't a compliment, just an observation. Nothing, really."

"I'm not sure what you are, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to find out."

"If you found out, I'm not sure you'd get much of anything. Maybe a little regret and an unnecessary amount of art history knowledge."

You wanted this to stop, to retract your hand, only an inch from where he rested his on the table. You wanted to leave, to lock the door, to keep yourself tucked away where it was lonely, but safe.

And when his hand grazed the top of yours, you did none of those things. It was tedious to define safety when your skin knew a visceral hunger that your heart did not. You let yourself lean into this unrefined craving, and perhaps be known by Jimin.

"Wouldn't know unless I tried." His smile meant a number of things, but this time it resembled a challenge.

Because the last time someone tried, it proved to be just that. A challenge.

Though you met so recently, he'd already established a clear admiration that extended far beyond reason. His eyes gave way to vision only to find beauty. His senses were predisposed to seeking goodness. Even more impressive, he was someone who could bring it out in unexpected places.

But that was the exact reason why Jimin terrified you. Because what if there was nothing in you, no goodness that he could withdraw?

He was watching you, most likely on a hunt for something. His eyes were determined yet tender as they searched for answers in yours.

"Well, thank you, for the drink." Timing was generous today, granting an escape from the space he opened up for you in this moment. "I should get going, it's my first day back in university."

"Ah, where do you attend?" Whatever attempts he made to mask his disappointment were futile, and all too obvious.

"University of Crane River." As you dragged yourself back into a state of reality, it distracted you from his smile, though you wished it hadn't.

It would be nice, you mused, to get one last look.

"Well, I hope your days get better." Jimin held his breath, watching you depart felt no different to him than folding the corner of the page right before the ending. "Oh and ___!"

You turned back, half expecting him to remind you to lock the door, then remembering it would never be that. Still, what he said next wasn't entirely disappointing, but completely disarming.

"See you at school."

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

Decisions were hardly decisions at all to you. You never had to wait until choosing became necessary; your mind was always as sure as an anchor would sink, fate locked into you like a companion.

That was until you noticed the pen markings, impulsive and needful, under the sleeve of your cup. You let your finger glide over the numbers. An irrational attempt to see if they'd disappear. It made no sense, but life after Taehyung was nothing if not nonsensical.

You lingered at doors, waiting for someone to impossibly fill a role originated by the love of your life. You waded through crowds as if it would dispel the loneliness that weeps in you like a ghost. You lived in memories to resurrect something rotting and overdue for a burial. You ran a finger across those numbers knowing it was a fruitless remedy to erase the meaning they carved into a disposable cup.

As the bus carried you closer to the school, music flowed from your headphones. Though no amount of noise could drown the echo of Jimin's voice. His was a melody that learned how to swim.

You tried to keep your thoughts in order by mentally planning your academic day, busying yourself in ways that proved successful in the past. It seemed that your thoughts developed a sense to maneuver around denial, to sink itself into what you weren't aware you needed. When it came to Jimin, at least, you were just the shell of someone trying to hold on to what it felt like to be in his presence.

Despite how true all of these feelings, these untamed thoughts were, you refused to allow them to move you. The idea of seeing him again filled you with fear and eagerness all at once. Again, the decision to hide or to unfold yourself was not within reach. It felt like something that was less of a decision, more so in the hands of chance.

However, he was a writer, you a painter. The chance of sharing a class or even a building with him was slim to none. This soothed you less than you hoped, but then again, safety for you always reserved the remnants of disappointment.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

"___!" Before you had to turn, you knew exactly who wielded such a voice that reached every corner of a room.

"Hobi, I thought once we entered college you'd become a little more... I don't know... calm?" That was the truest word you could use that brushed past being an insult to him.

"Why would I be?" Hoseok's arm nestled along your shoulders, "Maybe you need to be less calm."

"Okay, whatever you say." Both of you avoided asking the compulsory 'How are you' and this was an unrehearsed consideration composed by Hoseok's thankless demeanor. He was a loud, robust dancer with a heart of gold, but no less observant than you. He knew not to ask, not to resurface the pain just below the skin, waiting to erupt.

"What's your schedule looking like?" He asked.

"Mmm." You searched through your bag to pull it out.

"You know they have these online, you don't need to print them out, nerd." This fond judgment didn't stop him from taking the paper from your hands.

"Any classes together?" You asked, eyes static on the pen markings etched along your cup while his was scanning your schedule.

"Nope... looks like we're just gonna have to spend extra time together outside of class." His smile lured one out from you too, the same way the sun channeled light where the world needed it most.

And then, like clockwork, that cruel mantra sauntered into the front of your mind again.

I think I'm falling out of love with you.

"Mm..." In times like this, expressing your care for someone felt like trudging through a storm. It was easier to still, to let the storm rage around you. But you loved Hoseok, maybe just as deeply as you could love Taehyung. There was just too much pain to be soft the way Hoseok was soft. Admiration and guilt forged into one heavy burden piling on your shoulders.

You hoped he knew this. You hoped the vacancy of words never translated into an emptiness he could detect. You hoped one day, you'd be able to out-love him, the way he deserved.

"___, I promise everything's going to be okay." How could you love someone like him enough? Someone who would demand a storm to rest just so you could finally move forward.

"I really want to believe you." The tears gathering in your eyes were infectious, spreading across bodies. Hoseok felt your despair prick at his own eyes.

"I'm sorry. I don't understand it either, ___. I really hate him for this." He spoke through strained whispers.

Before your eyes could corrode into water slipping down your cheek, his lips pressed into your forehead. It was something he'd been doing since you were barely able to reach the top shelf. He knew it wouldn't mend the pain, but it would give you enough love to last the day. And tomorrow, he'd be there to replenish. He was the 'always' you knew you could trust.

"I love you, Hoseok. Go to class, though. You're gonna be late."

"Shit, I'll see you soon! Text me after class!" He called back, already ten or so feet from you.

Hoseok loved and cared with every part of him, but even those qualities hadn't overruled his forgetfulness. Luckily, he always had you as a second conscious.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

There it was again. The memory of that night itching against your skin. It always began so faintly, but you knew by now what was about to follow. You knew ignoring a heart breaking would only aggress it more.

Under the guise of needing to use the restroom, you excused yourself from class. Though, you required more than a simple escape from the small art room that held you captive. The air felt stretched thin indoors, which is how you ended up wandering into a forested area of campus. Your legs demanded solitude, and apparently, running water.

Crane River, the sign read with resistance. Time chipped the paint and rusted the metal.

You peered over the edge of the bridge, water rushing against the riverbed. Somehow, your body responded to this view with a feeling you couldn't assign a name to. You knew though, it reminded you of being left behind.

What good are my lungs for if they stop working every time I'm upset? You criticized yourself unfairly between deep, unfulfilling gasps. It seemed that this was all you could give to yourself. How sad this must appear, a body rejected by the soul that calls it home.

It was true, nonetheless. You hated being you, feeling the things you felt. Pathetically clinging to the rail of a bridge, pleading with water to idle so you could keep pace. If this was how the rest of your life would be, you weren't sure how long you'd be able to hold on.

You closed your eyes, reeling in the moment this morning when you felt your heart beating in the same rhythm as the world, as him. It should have been clear to you how inevitable this would be. You, reaching into your bag to retrieve what should have been trash, dialing the numbers only to hover your thumb over the 'call' icon.

The sound of footsteps interrupted your courage and turned your phone screen back to black. This whole time, your body took in each breath manually. Innate functions such as breathing or blinking had become tiresome. So, when your focus shifted to the presence of another person, your breathing stopped altogether.

"Hey," His melody proceeded. "You."

"Of course... you." Fate had reintroduced itself to you, joined by regret.

"I know I got here after you, but, to be fair, I've been coming here since last year so... This time you're impeding on me." It wasn't bragging in the technical sense, but there was an underlying celebration in his voice.

You were almost too suffocated to do witty with him. Almost.

"Yeah, just waiting for you to come save me again." Your eyes remained where they were before he arrived.

"Is that it?" Jimin's voice grew in volume, even though he spoke softly. The edge of his body now seated in your peripheral. "Save you?"

"Mhm, I was just thinking if only someone would come and ruin my peace and quiet." He laughed, somehow privy to the honest relief obscured under the layers of sarcasm.

You gambled with bravery, craning your head to finally face his. He wasted no time returning the favor. For a brief moment, you were just a person catching the light of another's eyes. You could breathe, blink, and appreciate how normal could feel so thrilling with him.

Jimin's smile eroded the longer you held his gaze; it had you already pleading to earn his forgiveness.

"You were crying?" His eyebrows formed concern so beautifully.

"No... not really." You attempted to lie, but your eyes betrayed honesty to Jimin's.

"It's okay. We don't have to talk about it. I mean, we just met so..." Jimin let his admiration run unsupervised, indulging in how this moment stretched beyond time. "It's just... I hate the idea of you crying all alone."

"Why?" Regret finally broke through the adrenaline, more so when he said things like that. The desire to retreat came rushing, however you couldn't relinquish the victory of looking away first. "You don't even know me."

"Do I need to?"

Why had it sounded like a command?

"I guess not. But" Your throat nearly denied you sound. "I don't understand what you're getting from this."

"Jesus, ___." It would have felt like scrutiny if not for the protective armor of his laugh. "It doesn't cost me anything to be kind to you, but it seems to cost you quite a bit to reject it."

"I-" Why bother arguing with him? "It's hard."

"I know." You could have meant anything, but Jimin, overfamiliar with pain in his own ways, didn't have to know in order to know. "I'm sorry. Whatever is hurting you so much, I hope it subsides enough to let you live a little easier."

"Just a breakup. Nothing special, nothing new."

"Still, it sounds pretty rough. I'm sorry, ___. How long were you two together?"

"Three and a half years." Your exhaustion felt so justified after voicing how long it's been.

"Damn, it makes sense why this is so horrible. I mean we're still pretty young. Three years is a lot if you think about it."

"True. It was just really..." You watched as his eyes drifted comfortably along your face. Even if you wanted to pull back, it felt wrong to take that away from him. "Unexpected."

"You love him?" Jimin's inquisitiveness was partially selfish, but mostly born of genuine curiosity and care.

"Trying not to." The warmth collecting at your cheeks confessed some twisted form of shame around this.

"I get it. It's very justified to take your time with it you know? Don’t be hard on yourself." Jimin paused but even that was carried out with certainty. "He sounds lucky to have someone who could love him this much. Not sure if this is necessarily helpful in getting over him but, I think it is beautiful to love someone even if they aren't there to experience it."

You couldn't understand how he gave shape to your feelings with such kindness.

"Thank you, Jimin." Gratitude was a costly emotion to express, a tear or two expended no matter the circumstances. "You're sweet. I'm not sure uh... not sure I deserve this."

You smiled at that last confession, thinking it would lighten the weight of what was said between you two, perhaps distract you and him from the tears. But it soon felt like a mistake upon noticing it might've struck a chord with Jimin.

"Why wouldn't you?" This was not rhetorical in the way you wished it was. He asked, expecting you to answer, to voice the shame lodged into your body like a dagger. "Why wouldn't you deserve it?"

"I'm not..." You reached for answers that were not there. "I don't know. All I know is whenever people try to comfort me about this I feel so guilty. And like I can't give it back? I'm tired of needing so much from others. I just want to be good. Easier to love."

"For now, it's not your job to give back." How did his body extend in a way that reached conclusions never so accessible to you? “You do not have to be good to be easy to love. Someone would be lucky to love you.”

You watched the world regress, intricacies of this universe conflating into a singular truth. This man crafted simplicity from the chaos. You felt greedy, your heels already primed to run after him, to chase this world he'd created that made your movements fluid, rushing with no traction like water.

It must be a writer thing, you theorized.

By now, your arm had been pressed against his as you both leaned against the rail, overlooking the water. It was hard to release the notion that this might've been trespassing. Closeness, a risk that ended in punishment the last time you took it.

"Jimin?"

"Hm?" Jimin's wordless response felt assuring of what you were about to say, even before you knew yourself.

Speak, he seemed to say, bring any noise to your voice that does not know loss, does not mourn.

"How do you always know what to say?" Everything about you felt dangerously undisciplined. You'd been unraveling, completely negligent to how easy it had been to breathe in and out this whole time.

"To be honest, you don't make it the easiest." His careful nudge against your arm promised compassion without the words. "But, I like you. I like the way you see the world."

"You too. I like how you see things too." Rather, you liked how he saw you, how it never felt like a judgment. It was warm where your bodies made contact, heightened how frigid and starved the rest of you had been.

Somewhere, there was a world where you could find solace in togetherness; the borders of your body and his body ebbing from the way you held each other. Imagining this left a bitter taste in your mouth. Not because it seemed wrong, but because it felt so unattainable. It hurt to hope, to open your heart enough that it might discover another breaking point.

"I, um, gotta get to class." A sigh nearly slipped from you when he pulled away. "It was lovely seeing you, ___."

Jimin settled his hand right between your shoulder blades. His thumb tracing out a pattern only he could see. A parting gift, you assumed, a piece of him he felt necessary to leave with you. In one swift motion, you were reminded of how sentimentality was quick to filter your memories.

The way he touched you, so unsparingly, it must have meant there was more of him for the taking. And from where you stood now, looking down at the river, it lacked its usual hurriedness; almost as if it had stilled completely.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

"Hobi?"

"What's up?" He responded, stretching his hamstrings.

"Nevermind." This wasn't enough to curb his curiosity. You knew that all too well.

"___..." He expressed an expectation by calling your name, giving you another chance before he proceeded to more drastic measures. "What's on that little mind of yours?"

"Just..." A nervous tick flared, your fingers finding friction against each other to ease it. "How can you tell if you're a good person?"

"What are you an idiot? I love you. That’s how. You're kind and funny and intelligent and creative and fair-minded and all that good stuff." The question was obvious to Hoseok, so much so that he carried on loosening his muscles for dance practice.

You always sat in on his practices when possible, finding comfort in watching Hoseok move so freely, so determined. It impressed you how he made passion into a precision. Something so prone to growing rampantly, like a wildfire, restrained through the way he controlled his body movements. It was like he wielded passion the way a god would.

"I just don't get why though." You leaned against the mirror, exasperated by the vagueness of it all.

"God, Taehyung really did a number on you. Only someone so self-involved and immature and straight up stupid could not love someone like you." This began to swallow you in a well acquainted guilt where gratefulness was supposed to be, like you were tricking him into praising you. His kindness sat in your stomach like rotting food.

"Hobi..." You scolded despite the fact that he had done nothing to warrant it.

"Okay, you're right, let's not get into that now." Hoseok straightened himself, reoccupying where he stood so tall. Arms outstretched, ready to consume the world like prey.

It's what he always looked like when he was about to dance.

"Places!" The instructor’s voice filled the silence. Not long after, music took its place.

Right as everyone settled into position, the door swung open. A panicked series of footsteps and a haphazard toss of what sounded like a bag followed. Your focus busied itself with sketching because warmups we're not particularly engaging for you to watch.

"Oh, good afternoon!" The instructor was startled, but still maintained the patience to be welcoming. "Glad you could join us. Please, find a spot and begin warming up."

Their shoes shuffled along the practice room, a humble gratitude expressed by the swiftness in which they obliged.

"Hey, Hoseok!" Your brows pulled together when they spoke.

It couldn't have been.

"Jimin, what's up!" Your eyes tore from your sketch pad only to find Hoseok exchanging an informal handshake with none other than Jimin. It surprised you less that Hoseok had already been acquainted, being that socializing was a necessity no different than air to him.

Is this a joke? You questioned the mercilessness of the world. The more you saw him, the harder it was to shed the fondness pulling at the seams of your willpower.

It took a mere two seconds for Jimin to recognize the only person sitting among the piles of bags and discarded sweatshirts. It took much longer to release from him the mix of intrigue and delight that held his gaze captive on you.

He mouthed your name, partnered it with a coy nod before cutting his attention back to the lesson. The downturn of your eyes only accentuated the smile you were trying to dilute.

You selected your next move carefully, similar to how one would play a game of chess. A modest nod pawned back to him, timed perfectly to when you secured his attention again. He grinned without the boldness to look directly at you. Then, a flicker of hope that this meant a small victory lulled your nerves to rest.

You wondered if these uncanny collisions with him would become a routine. This man collecting moments of your life, all to give you a motive to make them worth something. And you realized then there was this feeling posed where you couldn't quite reach. Perhaps it was eagerness, a moment teeming with potential.

Throughout the practice, parceling your attention to anything but Jimin was hard. Whenever he had returned to you through gazes, your eyes retreated to the wall or your sketchbook.

But you pocketed every chance you could to take him in. Jimin was the only person that made you consider more carefully who the best dancer you could name was. Hoseok was still your favorite, of course, but any attempts to insist that Jimin couldn't move just as fluently in this art was denial at its weakest.

Every arch and extension he wielded as though his body was designed to move only to melodies. His arms were loyal to the choreography, but there was always a glint of reinvention embodied by his movements. Where Hoseok sharpened himself like a blade to the music, Jimin softened himself, the way a tree allowed winds to tangle through the leaves. It was full of a delicate generosity, an openness. He must earn applause not only for admiration, rather gratitude for being able to witness him dance.

Jimin was beautiful.

When the practice ended, you felt an urgency to restrain every feeling you encountered while watching Jimin. Quickly, you buried your belongings into your bag so as to not invite him over with your idling.

"I'm so tired." Hoseok elongated his speech, making it clear that even talking was too strenuous. The rest of his body surrendered to the fatigue building in his muscles. "Carry me home?"

"You know I can't but you did great today."

"Mmm... Thanks ___." You laughed softly. Tired Hoseok was hardly distinguishable from drunk Hoseok.

And there he was. Hair worn in from a one hour practice, somehow draped gracefully along his forehead, sweat-soaked shirt carving out his chest a little too tastefully. If you could've brought yourself to look away, you would have.

It was easy to ignore how the students' exhaustion translated as a potent thickness in the air, even how Hoseok's sweat invaded your skin where he leaned his head. It seemed everything that would normally bother you had reduced into unintelligible noise. There was no room for doubt. The answer always seemed to be him.

Before you were able to plot an escape, Jimin made his way over to you, mouth slightly hung and chest rising and falling with intention to circulate energy back into himself.

"Are you following me?" His attention wouldn't budge from you, even with a half-conscious man leaning on your shoulder.

"What was it? Oh right 'I was here first... you're impeding on me'. Is that how you said it?" You laced smugness into your voice like a drug, all the more intoxicating to Jimin.

"You're funny, you know that?" He'd squatted down to your level, now unable to ignore the intimacy passing through the bodies you and your best friend. Jimin could deduce he wasn't your boyfriend, being that you were currently heartbroken and too considerate to reduce someone into a rebound. However, his stomach fell when he saw you exchange a closeness he hadn't gained yet.

He was never one to get jealous, especially over someone that owed no loyalty to him. Even so, it was hard to not cross that bridge with you.

"This is Hoseok, but it seems you know him already." You jerked your shoulder to wake him, only for his head to limply drop back onto you. "We've been friends since high school."

"Ah, how sweet. Small world." You gathered that your response soothed him in some way. Likely because you were expectant of that reaction. Another moment stashed in your favor. "We met last year in an intermediate dance class."

"Yeah Jimin's pretty cool. I feel like we taught each other so much last year." Hoseok chimed in.

"Yeah, you were really great." You hoped this comment sounded casual, uncommitted. But from the way your heart nearly broke through bone, you knew it didn't. Jimin snuck you a smile. It looked selective, a gesture to deepen the feelings making waves in the air.

"How do you and ___ know each other?" Hoseok's question was innocent enough, not without making it clear he wanted details. Excruciatingly specific details.

"We met at a cafe. They were dawdling in line so I practically had to force them to let me buy their drink if I wanted to get mine." A grin strapped onto his lips. He aimed it at you in such a rehearsed manner. "And we just talked for a bit."

"Ah, ___, why didn't you tell me about this?" Whatever his tone had suggested, you feigned ignorance to it, and it had Hoseok and Jimin toppling over in anticipation. You were now compelled to choose what you said wisely, decisively. You kept flitting your eyes between the other two, hoping they would land at some point.

"I-" You pressed your lips tight. "It must've slipped my mind."

Hoseok garnered some energy, picking through the scarcity of words to unveil the things you and Jimin wanted each other to know without giving sound to them.

"Yeah, the bridge must have slipped your mind too, huh?" Jimin cleared the view of his forehead, hand seeking refuge in the lovely field of his hair. Your face stiffened to bury the smile threatening your lips.

"Must have."

"Bridge? What bridge?" Hoseok traded off between you and Jimin, neither of you could bring yourselves to break away from this standoff. "There was a bridge?"

"There was a bridge, indeed." He flirted with admittance, waiting for you to comply. Waiting to see how easily you'd confess to those coveted moments being known to the world, and all the more real because of it.

"Jimin, how long have you been a dancer?" You figured deflection had been your only option. Jimin tucked his head down, a smile most likely being shed in this position.

"Since I was about ten. I started in ballet, but slowly worked my way around to contemporary and hip-hop." He responded when he lifted his head back to you and Hoseok.

"You know, that's what I love about your dancing. You're so versatile." When it came to dance, Hoseok's seal of approval was rare. You'd only witnessed its appearance twice in your time knowing him.

The first was when your friendship was still new, the borders of your closeness still a bit unrefined. He was explaining how his dance teacher had been the one to inspire him to pursue it professionally. You took note of how his eyes blazed, honored to be caught in the fire. The second had a much more bitter tinge to it. A competition, one you couldn't even remember the name of, ended with Hoseok's peculiar silence as he turned the bronze medal over and over in his hand. You were giving him a ride home when he admitted defeat to the one that earned the gold, accompanied with a vow that someday he'd be the dancer others would have to overcome. The flame in his eyes was fed such fierce resolve, and still hungered for more.

"Thank you." Jimin was nothing if not cognizant. His eyes nearly pressed close from how wide he smiled. "You really inspire me, honestly."

You were pleasantly surprised how quick they took to talking, sinking into the background as they carried into conversation that permitted your silence, courtesy of your lack of dance knowledge.

Half of you tried to keep up with what they were saying, a nod here and there to feign engagement with the mess of dance terms. The other half tormented with an insatiable need to figure out Jimin. With every interaction, he unfolded more of him, meaning there would always be something to keep your heels from touching the ground. You hoped to find a crack, any break that would volunteer some hint of what else he had in store. And you also hoped you wouldn’t, setting aside agency over what excited you; the unknown nature of whatever Jimin meant to you delivered a complicated position for you to fill.

You resented yourself for what had always been around the corner from excitement: remembrance.

A sudden but familiar mourning crashed into you like a bird falling mid-flight. There was one person you had known so well. Someone that nullified any need to guess. The knowing of a person, of the private moments only to be shared through intimacy, of hearts precisely sure where to love someone, it could cast loneliness into a graveyard. This emptiness you weathered felt so full. It resurrected that loneliness in you, your body one long hall for it to haunt.

Two years ago

“I can't believe you convinced me to do this! This is so stupid!” Your pleas fell short, not even reaching his ears. The waves had drowned words. You worried that you were next. “What if we die?”

The cliff overlooked the Pacific. The very edge of land, a world you knew coming to a stop, giving way to water. It wasn't very high up, admittedly, an altitude that barely reached fifty feet hadn't deserved so much fear. That didn’t stop your pulse from turning into an unruly mess of panic. You turned to him, unable to meet his smile with one of your own. Taehyung ran his thumb over your brow, tense from worry. It only made him smile harder and fall in love with you more. 

“I’d never let anything bad happen to you, ___!” Taehyung’s arm, as though it was a device to locate your fear, warmed the part of you he had sheltered. “Trust me, okay? If you get scared, squeeze my hand. And when I squeeze back, It means you’re safe. it means…”

He paused, pressing his lips against yours, slow and intrepid, “I love you.” 

It was the first time he said it. Whether it was the way your eyes made the salt in the air taste sweet, or how your hand tightened around his like an instinct, Taehyung knew regret was far more difficult to shake than fear. He had to say it, had to make it known to you.

And your body seemed to align with that same truth. The waves, though treacherous and unwavering, did not carry the same bite to them. You peered over the edge, squeezing tight to the hand in yours, and when you felt it squeeze back all the fear that once detained you had sunk, been swallowed by something far more emphatic than any ocean.

“I love you too.” In unison, two bodies leapt into the chaos as though they were powerful enough to subdue it, or perhaps, become a part of it. The tides ushered your bodies with an intent to pull you in deeper, however your hand remained with his. That same force, the one that helped you jump from a cliff, the one that tread alongside the chaos of water, the one that loved Taehyung, was an anchor that you believed would hold you secure in the ocean with him.  

Hoseok was the first to locate your somber resignation and through a silent alarm, Jimin squared his focus back to your face, glossed over with grief. Both battling off worry in their own ways, Jimin found a release by checking his phone, acting as though time had gotten away from him. It's not that he didn't want to be there for you, to ask you to unfold the pain you felt, to feel it with you like he’d done at the bridge. He did, however he knew it would be more appropriate if Hoseok filled that role. He knew he had to wait until you were the one to ask.

"Today was fun. Nice seeing you, Hoseok." He suddenly felt so mismatched. Eyes following how Hoseok's arms enveloped into warmth, it was an invitation not yet extended to him. "___, take care. I'll see you around."

"Bye, Jimin." You broke yourself in two trying to act normal. If you could speak without crying, you would have asked him to stay. Your hand tightened around the air you wished was him instead.

"See you next week." Hoseok said, cheer still lingering in his voice. He hadn’t spent any additional time letting your change in temperament go unattended. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Really, you don't have to ask every time. It's always the same thing." You pleaded in a way that insinuated this was some sort of favor. He knew it wasn't.

"I just..." Hoseok wilted as he felt your body lean away from him. "We need to figure something out."

"I know." Only you didn't. You couldn't possibly piece together what could be done.

"Hmm, there's this party." On cue, two sets of eyebrows moved in opposite directions. Yours sinking and his climbing. "No, listen-"

"No..."

"C'mon, just like one hour!"

"Hobi." Whenever you whined, it meant there was allowance for persuasion.

"I'll be with you the whole time, swear!" Hoseok's hands cupped yours. "Don't you wanna celebrate being back in school?"

"Why would I want to celebrate that?" You argued even though your cynicism never carried enough potency with Hoseok.

"Because! It'll be fun." Hoseok pulled a shield over his ears when he wanted something.

A beat of anticipation passed. You rolled your eyes in defeat because how could you let his eyes limp on the ends and his mouth hang in such a heart wrenching way.

"Fine." Hoseok cheered himself into wakefulness. Already prattling on about the plans, the pre-gaming, the outfits.

This, you thought, was rewarding enough. His eyes became a house of stars while his smile reached to his ears. Hoseok was happy, and it miraculously made way for you to be as well.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

It’s not that you thought this wouldn’t happen, just that you knew you would never be able to arm enough resistance to the gravity Taehyung seemed to have on you.

There he was. A stunning ray of light dressing him like a saint. You played out what would have happened two months ago. There would be a kiss before a verbal hello. A hand remaining at the small of your back, holding to make sure you would stay close. Love exchanged through a single glance, so palpable you would inhale something denser than air. It was almost impossible to remember why such a connection could waiver, let alone collapse completely.

You were already making your way back home and you didn't want cowardice to strand you in an unplanned detour. No, you were going to face this pain. The damage seemed to ricochet a bloodthirsty bullet in the caverns of your chest when you tried to avoid it anyway. Taehyung's notice of you was tardy, just a second too late to pretend he hadn't.

He hadn't been able to fully drain the life from you, leaving your mass of flesh half-alive, panting like unfinished prey. His hands were still red either way. It's what made seeing you feel vindicating. Him, faced with the aftermath of a mercy kill denied.

"H- hi."

"Hey."

The ice felt so unbroken, frost hardly even brushed away.

"How are you?" He winced at his own question.

"You know. Getting by." Your knuckles had turned white. It matched accordingly with your shallow breathing. "You?"

"Yeah, uh- same. Just preparing for the school semester and all." He was an artist as well.

It was actually what brought the two of you together. He asked for an extra pencil from you in class one day, bartering a boxy grin to repay the favor. Your eyes were still fresh, absorbent of the beauty the world had to offer. You loved the kind of beauty he offered.

"Mm. I hope everything worked out with getting your classes." You couldn't help but reference a time when menial information like a class schedule and a good meal at lunch were things you kept tabs on.

"Thanks. It did work out since a few students dropped classes last minute." He auctioned off a pained smile. You sighed and wished he hadn't.

"Good. That must be relieving."

You were frugal with your eye contact, gaze warily hoarding itself against the floor. Whether this was to protect you or him was unclear. How could you weigh the severity of earning unwanted pity against the punitive fear that he would not care at all? Both resulted with betrayal exploring the parts of you that had somehow remained unscathed.

"Yeah for sure." Both of your voices were forced, held at gunpoint but unsure of who exactly commanded the weapon. "Listen, ___, I've- um, I've been wanting to talk to you."

"About?"

"Um..." His hesitation was rewarding, shamefully so. You wanted to make him say it, to voice the ugliness of it all. How criminal he must feel, seeing you limp through the world, searching for whatever you lost that made his love deter. "You know. About... everything."

"Taehyung." Before, you only said his full name when circumstances called for sternness. Now, it was the default. The kindness with which you addressed him drowned somewhere between the initial heartbreak and the fourth night spent emptying yourself of him through tears. "I can't really do this right now."

"I didn't mean right now, just sometime." Maybe a week ago, you'd fold yourself in half trying to fit into his life. You'd take out a notepad, write down all the things that went wrong so you could fix it.

But you didn't want to be fixed for him, not when he was the one who broke the two of you.

"Tae..." His nickname slipped out like acid. You had to release how it burned in your mouth one way or another.

"Please? There's just so much I want you to know." He punctuated his gaze on your boots, the ones he gifted to you last Christmas. "Please?"

It was selfish, rash. You'd finally gained an ounce of momentum. It wasn't always much help but it was something. Would he really be cruel enough to lay waste to it all? Just because he wanted you to know the gritty details of how he now found you to be unlovable?

You do not have to be good. His words were a lullaby that breathed for you when your lungs could not.

"I-" You felt frustrated with him, released something once held hostage. "Can you just respect that I might not be ready?"

You ignored the sting of guilt when he nodded so hastily.

"Yeah, sorry. You're right. I'm sorry" He was profuse with his remorse. Again, you wanted him to stop.

"It's fine." You said quietly.

"It's just... seeing you now," There had been a twitch in his arm, a motion overruled. You wondered if it was to reach out to you. "All I want is for you to be okay, ___."

"Thanks." This conversation began to run stale. You adjusted your bag, somewhat of a prompt for Taehyung to bid his farewells. "I'll let you know."

It was a promise already half broken.

"Okay." He exhaled. "I'll see you around, ___."

"Yeah, for sure." Whatever love you still felt for him was undetectable, buried deep beneath the rest of your feelings for him. Not all of them were bad, but certainly overpowering and abstaining from anything close to love.

Taehyung watched you leave and still so much of you stayed with him. He hadn't noticed how long it's been since your voice had touched his ears, hadn't realized, until now, that he missed it. He didn't know what to do with this, so he did nothing and hoped complacency would work out this time.

As you left, the pain grew a little quieter. It felt empowering to be the one that walked away. You never realized how much bravery there was in this until now, how your legs continued forward as some sort of defiance to the rattling of your heart, the shivers running along your skin. It was the same feeling of when you jumped off that cliff all those years ago with him. But there was no cliff. Just a person who walked away and hadn't needed an entire ocean nor his loving hand to consume fear.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

Dusk casted a blueness onto everything. It reminded you of the lost things, not just in your life, but everyone's. The forgotten things, abandoned things, things sacrificed and things surrendered. In some strange way, it helped to cope with loneliness, the idea that you were not the only lost thing in this world.

It was cold, a bit disheartening you had grown to feel so comfortable in this. Taehyung tinted the life you had shared, so much that you had forgotten what it looked like without him. You missed how he rested his head in your lap, how he turned his head into your hand when it brushed through his hair, how he used the backside of his fingertips to graze your cheek. It was a source of comfort and safety specific to you, but as you sat on your couch in the fetal position, you had no agency to stop him from doing the same thing to someone else's cheek.

You missed loving someone so fully, missed how it meant you were needed because it made you feel like something.

Now, you asked yourself, what could you be if not a home for his soul? More importantly, where had yours gone?

All these years, you were busy being someone else's. You dedicated yourself to others, set aside your own appetite for reciprocity, as though you could repay the absence of love by doubling down with yours.

Sure, you felt the cracks along your bones, felt the quiet exhaustion in your chest. However, you also felt the necessity to please, the gratification of sacrifice; it drove you this far in life all to break apart.

"Fuck." You released a deep exhale as your fingertips mimicked Taehyung's. If you closed your eyes, it was almost like it was really him performing that small gesture of love along your tear ridden cheek. Almost.

There was one person, besides Hoseok, that never took from you what they couldn't return.

Before you could convince yourself not to, your hand had already dialed in Jimin's number. And without attempting to rationalize it, you called him.

The rings felt like an alarm, warning you to end the call.

The ringing ceased, your pulse raged through your body.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"Hi." You said instead, knowing it confessed what you couldn't say out loud.

"___." He said, as though he was expecting this. And for some reason, it eased you.

Your hand dropped from your cheek.

"How are you?" He asked without sounding burdened by the unplanned call.

"I'm fine."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"You called me just to say 'I'm fine' and 'mhm'?" He laughed fondly.

"Um... It's stupid, really. I- uh- wanted to hear your voice."

His laugh, even as it filtered through the phone, was lively, colorful. The room around you was a bit less blue, you could have sworn it. You had to stop yourself from thanking him out loud.

"It's not stupid. It's sweet."

"It's not... really. If I'm being honest, it's selfish. I'm just..." You sucked some air in. "Lonely."

His pause meant many things to you, all at once. Even in silence, you felt so much to decipher with him.

"I'm sorry. I get lonely too." Another part of him served to you, eager to be devoured. If a man like Jimin could be lonely, maybe you weren’t a lost cause.

"I guess it's pretty normal. To feel alone."

"Yeah, but it shouldn't be." 

"Yeah." Your voice was feeble.

"Hey, can I tell you something?" He asked.

"Sure."

"I'm selfish too." Jimin said this quietly, a hushed guilt overlayed his voice.

"How?"

"You remind me of someone. Someone I miss a lot."

"Oh."

"They passed away."

"Oh."

"Does that scare you?"

"No,” You contemplated. “I wouldn't use that word."

"Okay, that's good."

"Was it someone close?"

"The closest."

"That's really heartbreaking. I'm so sorry, Jimin."

"Thank you." He wasn't sure where his gratefulness came from, just that when you saw his pain he felt the need to thank you for it. "They were an artist. Just like you."

"When you said you like me..." You hated yourself for needing to ask.

"Yeah?"

"It was them you liked? Them you were looking for?"

"Well... Not exactly but... I... maybe a bit."

Your skin softened like a bruise. It wasn't betrayal, but it wasn’t exactly virtuous either. You wished it just felt okay, endearing to be someone that resembled such a beloved person in his life. You wished it felt like admiration only, and not another proposition to lessen yourself for the sake of someone else. 

You weren't sure if you were justified in feeling this, but you couldn't stop yourself from hurting.

He wasn't sure if he truly wanted you to become a replacement for his friend, but if you started to, he wouldn't know if he'd be able to stop you. If he'd want to.

"I see."

"I-" The panic was palpable, dry. It drained the simplicity that once made sense of the world, the one Jimin breathed life into just to drown it again. "I still like you though. You, not just because of the person I miss. I know it's not the same. You just remind me of them, that's all."

You wanted to be so much more than a reminder of someone who he missed loving, someone he needed back. But you were afraid of even having this desire. These tears were viscous, dread sinking down your face, wet and brutal. And at the same time, you were guilty just as much as he was. Had you not been tracing along the lines Taehyung had drawn first, just moments ago been failing to replicate an intimacy that you felt could be satiated through hearing his voice? 

You wanted to accept this part of life, the part that was messy. For once, you wanted to be messy, to create havoc with Jimin and walk away unconcerned with who would be the one to clean it all up. Everything in you felt a strong gravitation to forgive what hadn't been apologized for, to put those parts of his grief he could no longer carry into your own hands, to hold it for him just so he could know weightlessness again. The same way he had recolored the word for you.

How bad could the mess be if it was so beautiful and light?

"No, don't say sorry, please. I’m flattered, I think." You muted your microphone, let yourself weep with slightly more sound. Your pain could not be known. Partly because it hadn’t felt right to let it be. Mostly because you were scared. "I'm just... I'm sorry. Who was this person?"

"A dear friend. I'd known them for so long. We grew up together. Shared so much. I never thought I'd have to live life without them. I'm not sure I know how to." There had been a gentle tremor in his voice, though it was not out of fear. He did not agonize over judgment, not with you. Perhaps it's because he somehow knew when he spoke, it felt like he was reciting your own thoughts back to you.

"How long ago was it?"

"Two years ago."

"I'm sure it must not feel that way."

"Yeah... You know, I haven't taken a picture since?" He admitted and almost laughed at his own absurdity.

"Why's that?"

"It would require me to open my photo album, to see all the pictures we had. There's so many. I can't even bring myself to look." This was only half of the story. The other part was that he didn't want to capture life through photos and suddenly make it real. His camera roll void of moments that were without them. He never left denial. It was the safest stage of grief. One that did not catalyze death.

"Jesus. I know grief never really stops, but it doesn't even slow down, huh?"

"Pretty much. Um-" His voice didn't have the strength to silence his pain and neither did his eyes. "We used to always go to this cafe together, even when we were definitely too young to go alone. Our parents weren't the most careful, but that's another story. Anyway, it was always like a safe place for us, a second home. They took me there when I got in this huge fight with my dad, bought me hot chocolate. And I took them there when they came out to their parents, and were threatened to be sent away to some camp. It was an empty threat, but still. It was uh, actually the cafe we met at.

It's dumb, frankly. I just sit in there for hours and hope that maybe, if I wait long enough, they'll walk through the door and everything will be normal again. I'd get to see their smile. Hear their laugh, talk about their day. I could wait forever, live off scones and lattes. I still remember their drink order, still want to order it when I order my own."

"Jimin. It's not dumb at all. It's quite possibly the most devastatingly beautiful and human thing to do." It was out in the open now, the way you were weeping for him. No possible way to hide it, not when he'd offered such genuine pain to you. You tried to picture everything he told you, to honor the life that had been lost by making it real in your head, making them exist in the world even more by searing it into your memory. You felt it was the least you could do.

"Think so?" He didn't want to talk over the phone anymore. Now, he wanted to be able to see your face, whatever it could reveal to him, perhaps wipe your tears away. "I've never told anyone this. I'm sure they wouldn't see it the way you do."

You thought it parallel to a crime to know what Jimin does and think of it as anything but the utmost act of love.

"This whole time, it must have been so confusing for you. So hard to find hope. So lonely. And still, you're this... you're kind and unafraid of love, even when the worst of life tries to destroy the very idea of it. You're the one mourning someone, and you still listen to me cry over a stupid boy who broke up with me." You laughed, not out of humor. Perhaps remorse or irony. "I- It's unfair, someone like you had to go through this. All that love you have. I wish you had somewhere to put it."

"You-." Even though the subject matter had been locked in the rawest, most painful part of him, he felt warmth, felt your care blossoming in him like Spring. "I feel so seen with you, ___. I can't tell you how much it means to me. How much you mean to me."

"You... mean a lot to me too, Jimin."

It was true, he meant a lot. The fine print of said meaning was something you decided not to examine. For now.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

You already knew Jimin would be at the party. Hoseok was always so quick to share intel about the social life you were never so keen on. You could only contribute to socialization within the parameters of Hoseok. With him, you'd been able to hold conversations, elicit a laugh or two, garner acquaintances that exchanged nods as you passed by them on campus. Though, nothing seemed to stick with you. Those connections were a spark bound to fade.

This made you wonder how long it would take for Jimin's interest in you to expire. Even though you knew your connection with him was much deeper, you saved room for disappointment. Old habits die hard and this one felt immortal.

Your clothes could barely do its job tonight. Resting slightly askew, seams etching discomfort along your sides at just the right angle. But you'd already tried using this as an excuse to skip the party. The taxi two minutes away from the address denoted how weakly your complaints pushed against Hoseok. He knew how hollow they were, and hadn't bothered refuting such backless protests.

The music spilled from any opening that would allow it. There was some form of chaos contained in the house before you and Hoseok. You were incredibly out of your depth, hand gripping your friend's forearm. He winced, trying to fend off the slight burn at the sinking of your fingernails.

"Alright. Game plan." He turned to you. "Let's immediately try to find something to get us more drunk."

You nodded along like a cadet following orders. It made Hoseok chuckle, seeing you stiff and earnest.

"Just relax, ___" He ran his hands up and down your arms. "We already had like two or so shots, it shouldn't be too hard to get tipsy enough to enjoy ourselves."

You appreciated how he used inclusive language like 'we' and 'our'. The two of you, a team. He involved himself in your feelings, ensuring you never actually took to heart how truly out of place you were.

"Sure, sure." Your agreement only surfaced because of a six-year and counting trust in him. "Just need to find some vodka or something."

"Yes! God, I love drunk ___. You get so giggly and excited." He smiled, leading the way to the front door.

Inside, a tumultuous scene laid out like a battlefield. There was nonstop movement, a body always knocking into another, a place more exciting than the last. Your hopes to source any kind of alcohol began to recede. It wasn't a particularly overpopulated party, but you could feel the hunger, how rapidly these people took to abandoning their sobriety.

"Follow me!" He hitched his voice to a half-scream, barking an order that sounded more like a warning since he held your hand tightly and began dragging you mid-sentence.

"Okay!" You were lucky to be caught in Hoseok's wake. A few unknown faces recognized him, making way with an eager greeting.

"Hoseok, what's up?"

"Hoseok! Finally showed up!"

Many more renditions of these circulated on the way to find drinks. One person, however, hadn't crossed paths with you yet. You warded off disappointment through your continual search for him.

The mini bar sat against the back wall of the room, a few people departing as quickly as they approached. To your delight, it was still stocked, generously so.

"Who the hell is hosting this party?" This question was provoked by the sheer amount of alcohol and variety in this corner of the world.

"Honestly? Not too sure, but they're probably rich as fuck." He responded, already sifting through the options.

"Hey, glad the two of you made it." This was the first person to signify your presence, acknowledge your quiet company with Hoseok. You knew it had to be him. You knew, because suddenly, you captured that rare sense of belonging.

"Jimin!" Hoseok may have voiced excitement, but it had not surmounted yours. As you turned to him, you felt your words catch in your throat.

It was nothing spectacular, nothing you'd remember on anyone else. His hair styled in a way that accentuated the beauty dressing his features like a picture frame. His loosely fitted button up, undone at the top, sleeves folded halfway up his forearms, revealing just enough to want more.

"Hey!"

"Hi!"

The two of you had indecisively stood across from one another, unsure where to go from here. Your bodies a soft rebellion to the movement surrounding you. How easy it would have been to reach out, collect his warmth as your own through embrace.

Hoseok broke the stillness, handing both of you a shot glass full of something clear and pungent. Jimin watched you take it from him, steadying Hoseok's erratic movements with your palms, hands so gentle they made him into something delicate, soft, easily broken, and yet shielded from harm by how your fingers curled over his skin. He watched, treading in wonder of what it felt like to be touched in such a manner by you.

"Okay, cheers!" You spoke through a laugh, interrupting Jimin's reverie.

The shot slid like hot coal down your throat. Hoseok's face contracted into itself while you steadied your breathing to keep it from coming back up. The punishing taste nearly made all this not worth the trouble. But tonight, you wanted to breathe again, to throw fear in the air, even if it meant there would be a crash landing. Tonight, you left your grief waiting at the door. Jimin had done the same.

"Okay another!" 

"Damn, ___! I didn't expect you to be such a..." Jimin cautioned, making note of your spirited smile, "wild card."

"Oh this?" You'd finished pouring a second shot, holding out the bottle to the lip of his glass, alcohol eager to fill the emptiness. "This is just free therapy."

"___'s kidding. Kind of. It's like the only idea I had left that might pull them out of their slump." Hoseok explained.

"Ah, yes. The heartbreak." Jimin spoke as though it was an admittance to something.

"He knows?"

"He does." You confessed on behalf of him.

"How?"

"The bridge."

"The bridge." Hoseok's emphasis on the word assigned notoriety to that moment that was now referred to as ‘The Bridge’. Had your eyes been on Hoseok's investigative grin, you would have been more subtle. Jimin was too magnetizing. An affair of longing and reticence traveling from your smile to his.

"You know, I'm very excited to see how this goes." Jimin toasted, another shot of liquid courage burying your inhibitions as you gulped it down.

The three of you basked in laughter, excavating a bit of the tension. The fragments of your joy felt so complete with them, pulling from the bottom of your gut and falling into your hands like a long lost friend.

About three more shots in, you had to allocate more attention on where your feet landed. Your hands frantic for a crutch when your head couldn't provide stability or balance. Hoseok would be given hell for breaking the pact, wandering into the dance scene when he heard his favorite song playing. But you had Jimin, and Hoseok must've known that there was security for you in that, one more reason, besides him, to stay.

"Jimin!" Words sloppy and undressed of reserve, you let them rise from a part of you not often shown to the public eye. "You know something about you!"

"What? Tell me." He smiled. Tequila was a convenient scapegoat for how his hand found comfort on the groove of your waist, how your body curved against the invisible partition once held firm by sobriety. Jimin labored to keep his heart rhythmic upon feeling your torso fitting into the crooks of his so neatly.

"You, Jimin," Your hand slammed into his chest, "You are very, very troublesome for me."

"Why's that?" A glint of hope painted his words. His cheeks were a shade of desire that nearly formed a plea in the soft, pink expanse.

"Because..." The fabric of his shirt was welcoming as you inched your hand lightly along it just to feel the texture, and nothing else. At least, that's what you told yourself. "I was safe."

"What do you mean?" Curiosity settled in.

"I was safe," You rolled your head off kilter, a result of the drunken lapse in your neck muscles. His hand was quick to cradle your head back to the close quarters. "I was just in my own little world... I could just mope around all day. I was so close to being okay with loneliness. And then you came along."

You felt that your skin being the only part of you shared with him was not enough now. The boundaries contrived of fear had withered, and holding your bodies tightly together hadn't sufficed for the closeness you craved. You wanted to feel him in ways not derived from physicality, like if you pressed your hand deep enough into his chest, it would be no different than his own beating heart.

He had a mole on his neck. For some reason, you loved that he had a mole on his neck. Your finger had disobediently grazed against it. He tried not to let it show physically how it excited him, but you took notice of his Adam's apple rising then falling.

"Jimin." His name formed like a prayer in your mouth. "What do I do now that you've become a part of my world?"

"I-" He took in air sharply through a clenched jaw, hoping courage would follow suit. "I can't decide that for you."

Jimin embarked on his usual journey along your face, drifting down to your lips and staying there uncharacteristically long. They twitched under the cinch of his eyes.

"Hey." You whispered. "Can I- I want to..."

Before continuing, you drew in close. You barely spared any space between your soft breath and the shell of his ear.

"Kiss you."

"Yes." He swallowed what was left of his dignity and let the chill of how your fingers ghosted along his neck calm him. "I mean... please. I want you."

"Jimin." You pleaded back, only to make him, this moment, more real from the utterance of his name.

His thumb flushed restraint away from you, sliding down the curve of your cheek and gliding across your lower lip. There might have been a better, more responsible way to release the pressure building between two bodies needing more from one another. However, it didn't matter. Not when your thoughts stilled, when he took his lower lip between his teeth in an effort to make himself pliant so you could decide what was going to happen, when the world quieted into a whisper, then silence.

A collision transpired, erupting from the friction of your lips tangling messily, greedily into Jimin's.

He kissed you the same way he danced, soft and experienced, as though this was something he had rehearsed for. How many times had this moment been a fantasy starved in Jimin's mind? You couldn't bring yourself to find an answer, to care. When the warm flush of his tongue introduced itself to you, everything in you was dedicated to giving sustenance to him.

His hands held you, moving in ways that only brought you closer. Jimin was pulling threads loose, unraveling into a mess that only knew how to want you. Your back was warm where his need pressed into you, and you returned the favor with how your hands brushed into his hair.

"___." His voice, echoing into you, speaking life into you. Reinventing you, through the way he said your name. "Not bad too bad of a kisser."

Both your eyes had been lidded, found it difficult to open them and make what just happened real. But he knew your smile emerged, feeling your lips stretch into joy.

"Shut up." You nudged him. And when his body leaned, yours followed, crashing against him like a tide on the shore. You opened your eyes, feeling emboldened yet slightly unprepared. "Jimin."

Open your eyes, you pleaded, I want this to be real. I want to be found by you, now.

And when he did, his finger wiped a tear away, one that did not ask permission to fall. Something in your body had sunken and fear had infiltrated where desire had once sat. What could he possibly find in you that Taehyung couldn't? What could you be for him if not the remnants of someone he loved more? This was maybe too advantageous, too much for your brokenness, his brokenness to handle. You cried harder, but remained soundless.

I'm falling out of love with you.

What if it happened again?

"Don't cry. I'll shut up, if that's really what you want." His joke landed him another smile from you. "Did I- Was this not okay? Not what you wanted?"

"No!" You said with such immediacy. "I- it's exactly what I wanted. I'm-"

"What's wrong?" You hated when he did this. When the confusion, the implausibility of it all had lost its stake. His tone, it was comforting, tempting and made this so difficult.

"I don't know. But there's something wrong with this... with us." You'd stopped trying to figure out the tears, but he had not stopped his hands from cleaning up the mess of frustration falling against your cheeks.

"Why? Why does there have to be? Why can't it just be simple? Just a person who kisses another person. Why can't it be right for you?" He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself of this.

"It's just not, okay? I haven't figured it all out but it's not. There's too many things. Both with me and you." Jimin winced when you freed yourself from his arms as though you'd severed off a body part of his own.

"___. Don't do this. Just stay." He managed to grab hold of your hand, holding tightly. Holding, thinking it was the only way to keep his limbs intact. "Please, stay."

"I can't. It would be too hard..." You ran your thumb over the back of his hand, trying to soak in what he felt like. "to keep myself from you. And when- if I kiss you again..."

Jimin's eyes set fire to the spark in your body.

"I want it to be right. For the both of us." Your feet found its grip, all the empty noise clearing away for your voice. Because you knew you were right, you hadn't felt this determined for something in a long time. Whatever it meant to make this moment right, it would be something you found out for yourself.

"If that's what you need." His lips pursed. Words he'd wanted to say sealed for your sake. "Can I see you again soon, at least?"

"Of course." Your hand fell to your side, finally, resigning once again to solitude.

He nodded, already forgiving towards the things he never knew he could miss from someone other than his late friend. You saw hope strangled into disappointment. You wanted so badly to keep true to this promise, only if fear would allow such grace.

"Bye, Jimin." His heart jumped. There was a faint finality in your farwell.

"Bye , ___." He watched you leave, losing sight as your body was swallowed by the crowd. It looked the way the light filters through the trees, like starlight that finds a pocket to hide in during the day.

You found it was easier to just let the crowd move you rather than moving yourself. You knew it would land you somewhere on the outside of the mess of dancing and laughing and talking. On the way, you spotted Hoseok, smiling and dancing so radiantly.

"Hobi!"

"___!" He grabbed both your hands, leading you into a groove to the music.

"Very funny." You played along for a bit, only because you hadn't been able to spend a lot of time with him. "Hey, listen! I'm gonna go!"

"What?" He bent down so he was in a better earshot of you.

"I'm leaving! Going home!" The frenetic swaying around you only reminded you of why.

"Why?" His voice, tense and sharp, made you laugh, only to ease his worry.

"It's okay, Hobi! I had a great time, I'm just tired!"

"Okay well I'm coming with you then, just give me a few." He said decidedly to which you shook your head with more firmness.

"No! You're having fun. I'll be okay." You brought him close, hugging until his body was convinced away from tensing. "I'll text you when I'm home safe."

You knew that offer would deliver the final blow, his protectiveness satiated.

"Okay, love you, ___. Thanks for coming. I hope it helped you."

On the one hand, Taehyung had only entered your mind once tonight. Admittedly, this was an accomplishment to some degree. Memories staying put, for the most part, staying exactly what they were supposed to be: memories, and not the past persisting through grief. Your mind kept busy with more pressing matters.

"I think it did help, actually. There are some things I need to figure out. Love you, Hobi."

He nodded, archiving the questions he'd already begun forming for a later time. You smiled and made your way to the door.

The air was crisp, abundant. A slight breeze pulled the residual heat of the party from your face. You knew things would be different after tonight. Whatever conclusions it could make about Taehyung, or endeavors it would make with Jimin, all that lied so far from where you were now. For now you stood still, eyes shut, and let your hands unfold at your side, waiting to receive.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

“I came here as fast as I could.” Hoseok panted out with hands full of two wine bottles and an assortment of snacks. You smiled, even a meek laugh found its way between the fever of your tears. “God, look at you.”

He ushered past you, setting down the empty calories and alcohol on your counter before swiftly wrapping you in his arms. At this, the tears began to grow furious, your breath ruggedly thrashing against your throat and lungs. You weren't sure where exactly your hands were holding, just that they tightened around him, and it felt as though your rage could not hurt the world when he held you like this.

“Hobi…” You said. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” He tried not to let it scare him, the way remorse plunged a fist into your heart. There was no reason for you to be apologetic towards him, towards anyone. “___, I’m worried for you.”

“Hobi, I just don’t know what to do. Why? Why is this so hard for me? Why can’t I just fucking get over him?” 

“Because, it is hard.” Hoseok’s hand secured your head onto his shoulder, slowly growing damp from being a receptacle for your crying. “I wish I could take your pain away from you. You don’t deserve this. I mean, you guys were planning to build a life together. I saw it too, saw how much dedication your relationship seemed to have.”

Your legs felt weak, burning where the muscles strained to hold you upright. Through instinct alone, Hoseok slowly kneeled to the ground and kept his arms around you, leading you to sit in the nest of his body. He felt this was all he could give you, his entire body. Skin to skin, exacting hollow and desperate demands that some parts of your ache would displace into him. He hoped it would be enough this time around.

“How could he do this?” You spoke rather softly now, the ebbs and flows of your emotions were an unbridled wind storm that had suddenly decided to let the air stay where it was. “Hobi, everytime I try to get over him, I feel this emptiness. It scares me. I feel like I am nothing without him. How did I let that happen? How did I lose myself?”

“Even if you did, lose yourself, that is, that doesn’t mean you are lost completely. Because there’s so much of you that I love, that I have held onto. And I didn’t fall in love with Taehyung’s partner. I fell in love with you. And to me, no matter what, you are always going to be the person I love.” His hand brushed through your hair, repetitive motions that seemed to wash away your anguish. “You’re still my best friend. I think that should count for something. You are so much more than you could ever know. I haven’t lost you yet, and I plan on keeping it that way.”

For a while, both of you had stopped talking. The only sound repelling a stark silence was his soft breathing. 

“___, remember the first dance competition I attended after I got that bronze medal?” He asked. Your lips parted, but sound had receded somewhere deeper than your throat. It was too difficult to reach for it, so instead, you nodded plaintively. “I told my own parents not to come. I was so afraid of losing again. I didn’t want to give anyone except for myself the disappointment of my failure. Of not being good enough."

It surprised you, how openly he spoke about his fears, especially since those fears were surrounding dance. He was perfect, and still he was afraid. The whole world, it seemed, sought safety in their own ways. Even the most skilled dancers could fear a stage.

"I don’t know how the hell you even found the stadium in the first place." He chuckled, the delicate rumble in his chest was nourishing when it echoed through your ear. "But when I finished my performance, there you were. Exactly two rows from the front. You showed up. I remember exactly how I felt. In that moment, I was good enough for you no matter what. I was good enough. You loved me more than I could ever love winning. That’s the kind of person you are. To this day, before my performances, I close my eyes and imagine your little hands clapping like crazy, your eyes entranced with me all those years ago. You’re the reason I still dance today.”

You looked up at him, and him down at you. He smiled because your eyes never changed. The way you looked at him, it never changed at all. “I know it’s hard now. But you will get through this. I know you will. You need to show up for yourself, the way you showed up for me, again and again.”

You couldn’t deny this, deny the friendship that survived the harsh shift of the seasons, and many things do not make it through the Winter. But you and he always had. As your grief ripped through your body like a dam corroding, water pulsing through as though it was your own heartbeat, when the ugliest emotions emptied, you were left with one thing. You were left with love. 

“You’re right. I know I can still do it. I know because I will never stop loving you, Hobi. There’s a lot more I need to figure out, but I’d say that’s a strong start.” Your arms regained something you hadn’t known it was missing, and whatever it was, it allowed you to hold him back, the way he held you. “Thank you, for helping me believe again. For believing in me.”

“That’s just what we do, ___. Always. Promise me when you do find yourself, find whatever you’re looking for, that you’ll let me stay by your side?” He asked out of courtesy, because he already knew your answer, could feel it as your chest rose and fell against his.

“Always.”

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

Jimin watched the stars vigilantly. There was a credence stressing at the dead center of his eyes. He thought he was going to miss something. Some sort of astronomical miracle. 

He’d never seen a shooting star. It felt juvenile, how he clung to the rail of his apartment, how something so banal was arresting him away from sleep. The breeze snuck beneath his shirt, but he ignored how his body searched for warmth. He needed this tonight, to glean anything but a cold-shouldered stillness in the night sky, to come face to face with something and watch it come alive.

In some impossible way, this might make sense of it all. What he felt for you, what you meant to him, when it's right to hold on, and when it's time to let go. How could he know when his heart was shrouded in grief, when he sought answers in the sky only to uncover even more silence, a galaxy of questions he couldn’t answer. He felt audacious to think the stars uncertain where they were fixed along the dark canvas above. The falling of one would be submission to clarity.

All he knew was that he wanted to call you and that your voice, gentle and steady, was perhaps the only remedy for a silence so formidable. All he knew was that when he reached for an answer himself, he found his hand, instead, reaching for his phone, to call you.

Jimin hadn’t tried guessing what reasons you had to pick up, just that when you did, and your voice heavy with sleep filled his ears, he was grateful to them. 

“Jimin.” You almost sounded pleased. “You know it's two in the morning, right?” 

“I lost track of time.” He said, half-invested in responding to you. 

“Mm.” A pause traveled between your phones. You, tucked under a drowse, felt your eyelids weaken. You spoke, breaking the undefinable silence just to keep awake. “What made you lose track of time so late at night?” 

“I was just stargazing.” The reverence softened his voice into a whisper.

Of course. You thought. Of course Jimin was stargazing the night before he had an 8:00 a.m. class.

“Can you come over?” His voice remained a whisper, but it blared through the phone like a scream.

“What?” You said, only so he would repeat it again.

“Come over. Please? You said we would see each other soon, but you haven't reached out.” When he said this, your heart ached, punishing you with sharp pulses. 

It wasn't necessarily that he was persuasive. You were already out of bed, staring out of your window, watching the same sky Jimin was. “Okay, I’m coming. Just give me ten minutes.” 

Jimin exhaled. His restitution felt a bit more grounded, like he was moving in the right direction. And as you drew near to his apartment, the sky had lost its might. With you here, the world below felt brighter than any light the sky could offer.

You knocked. It felt too formal; you were compelled to just wait at the door, hoping your presence alone would summon him without having to sound it out. The door was eager, quick to open. Jimin’s hair was lazy, falling tiredly on his forehead. It was new to see him this way, the rawness of him, the way he looked right before he let himself sleep, let his guard rest for the night.

You looked the same way to him. Raw, intimate, vulnerability taking over where your body softened for sleep.

“Thanks for coming.” He reflexively pulled you close. The incident at the party afforded him an inclination to hold you, and you to hold him too. 

“It's nothing.” You let your exhaustion spill out, soak into Jimin through how you leaned against his body as though it were no different than a bed. “I-”

He loosened his arms, not to let you go, but to soften the embrace a bit. It somehow made you feel more held by him.

“I missed you.” You said.

“I missed you too. Watch the stars with me?” He felt your head nod, then pulled away to lead you to the back porch. The outside air did not offer the same comfort as his apartment, but as you sat down with Jimin, he was warm. You didn’t need to take cover inside to keep the cold at an arm's length. Never, when you were with him.

“I’ve never seen a shooting star.” He admitted. You thought it endearing. He would be someone who cared about experiencing the simple wonders in the world. 

“Let’s change that.” You asserted such conviction in this, as though it were not up to chance, but will. “Tonight.”

He smiled, eyes peeling from the sky to catch sight of you. So beautiful, He thought. You felt his stare, a presence against your face that resided with fondness in a way that made you nervous.

“If you keep staring at me you’ll miss it. Eyes up, Jimin.” You commanded, and he obliged more out of respect to you than the heavens above. The stars looked so dull, entirely unimpressive compared to you.

"It's funny." He spoke of a thought that must have ruminated long before he said anything. "It's funny what you notice when you spend enough time somewhere. What stands out to you."

"Yeah? What did you notice in all your days at that cafe?" You asked.

"Lots of rude customers. Tired employees. People living their lives as fast as they can. And..." If you were looking, you'd see the smile that crept on his face. "And you. I always noticed you."

"Really?" You were suddenly aware of how close you were to him. The night winds felt like nudges, quiet urges to move you even closer.

"Yep. You didn't live your life fast, didn't feel like you were trying to escape it. And one day, you just stood at the back of the line, for almost five straight minutes. I thought, 'What are they waiting for?'" He kept the realization private, that he saw himself in you. A soul in waiting.

"And you must have thought the answer was some overly familiar writer and dancer who stares at strangers more often than appropriate?" When you laughed, he laughed with you. It was simple, a momentary feeling of delight. And it still managed to mean the world to both of you.

You were amused more than taken off guard when you heard a digitized camera shutter go off. When you looked over, you saw the aftermath of a secret photo being taken. His hands moving sharply down to his lap and a smile covering up his tracks, like a kid caught doing something they weren't supposed to.

"What was that?" Your expression cut in half, eyebrows furrowed and mouth half-grinning.

"Nothing!" Jimin locked his head towards the view of the sky as though it was true.

"You're so weird." You said and it hadn't sounded like an insult to him.

"You just looked too beautiful." Your heart would not still at this. You couldn't bring yourself to figure out what it meant, that yours was the first memory to be memorialized in his camera roll since his friend died. It was far bigger than you, more than you could ever understand. Your mouth opened for a response that wouldn't come. So, you said nothing.

Five minutes passed, though it felt much longer. Silence stretched out time like a marathon, leaving you desperate for rest, for time to stop altogether. Still, you remained pensive, even went so far as to sparse out your blinking just in case it caused you to miss a crucial glimpse of the night sky.

“So, why exactly do you want to see a shooting star so badly?” You asked, your voice protruding from your mouth as white clouds.

“Dunno. I just want to.” It was an unconvincing, partial truth. It hardly satisfied you, but you let it go for now.

“You know they say some of the stars we see right now have died long ago.” 

“Really? I didn’t know.” Jimin felt daring, placing his hand over yours, bracing for you to either pull away or push closer. You chose the latter and his breath released with a smile. 

“Mhm. Even the stars as they appear above us now are actually what the light looked like long ago, since light takes a long time to travel and stuff. It’s like a little time capsule don't you think? A way to see into the past.” You turned to him and gathered his beauty. His eyes reflected the stars, but the longer you stared, it seemed maybe the entire fabric of the sky, all the beauty scattered along it, had been fractals of light from his eyes. 

“So, one of these stars…” His pain surrendered to tears, nearing collapse as he continued speaking. You wanted to cry too. You would have, if only you let yourself. “Maybe we’re actually seeing it burn when my friend was still alive.”

“Maybe… Definitely.”

You acted as though the stars appearance didn’t take light years to travel to Earth. Much longer than any human walked along these grounds. For him, you wanted it all to be true. That the stars were time capsules, delivering a much less distant past back to us when the world rests, reminding us how love remains in loss through how light remains even in darkness. For him, each and every star would persevere when someone’s life did not have the same chance to. 

“That also means,” His hand fastened around yours. “There are stars up there when your heart wasn’t so broken. All those stars…” Using his other hand, he gestured to the specks of light, “They remember the person you were before that wasn’t full of pain and loss. I hope they remind you that your happiness is enshrined into the universe. That some piece of the universe burns brightly as a reminder that you can love again. That you will love again.”

If it was true, what Jimin said, if you would love again, you knew precisely who it was you wanted to love. 

“Do you think the stars will remember us?” At this question, he turned towards you.

You're going to miss the shooting star. You caught the reprimand in your throat, and instead let yourself be seen. You couldn’t protest. Not when he seemed to see beneath the shell of your being. When he looked at you, his eyes were full, and in turn, you must’ve been the fullness that made it so, your soul flowering petals, becoming real, becoming yours.

“I think the stars would recite prayers just to get the chance to burn for us.” He was a romantic. Everything about him moved in order to love the world. You wanted to do the same thing. 

“If that’s the case…” You kissed his cheek, a brief warmth traded where your lips touched him. This time, it was you who left him with a parting gift. “Please, trust me. I will come back for you. But I need to be there for myself right now.”

I will come back for you.

He never knew it would be so consoling to hear that, couldn’t have guessed that it would make him want to wait for someone other than his late friend. But when you said it, the stars rewrote themselves for you.

“I'll wait for you, ___.” He let go of your hand.

You walked away, but differently from how you had done so with Taehyung all those months ago. You made strength into something much kinder than a weapon against pain. You made it into love. Your footsteps were resolute, even as they took you away from Jimin. The stars that had yet to burn would remember your promise, would someday become a light of hope in someone else’s night. 

You took the long way home tonight.

For so long, you thought happiness would be a product of you belonging to the world, finding a place or person that would accept the shattered, unfinished mess of your soul. But right now, you didn't need Taehyung, Jimin, or even Hoseok to find a warmth that made itself seen through your smile. This moment, it belonged to you, this was something you could call your own. The world settled, the stars echoed their light like a song, the night stilled for a brief moment so that it could be a part of you.

The starlit streets had shed a calming, generous glow, allowing a blanket of light to tuck yourself into. You were alone, though the usual bout of distress or longing hadn't intruded on you. When you peered back up to the soft stars, you loved how its light made the world look blue, like a galaxy full of possibilities.

I am the world, too. Your whisper hadn't reached the ears, hearts of those you missed. But it reached you, and you felt as though that made it just as meaningful.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

Three months. It’s been three months since you had seen Jimin. It’s been three months of breathing slow in the midst of terror, shuffling from class to class, spending time with your best friend, painting everything that made you smile and everything that made you cry, locking doors without the need for his reminders, and rediscovering the beauty life had to offer you. Three months, and you felt that there was nothing fragile about you. Not in the way your arms held onto all the things you had to love, including yourself, especially yourself, or in the way you moved against gravity, against the odds. Looking back at your memories with Taehyung no longer felt like you’d unearthed a corpse. It felt like something sweeter, like watching the sun set or clouds pass by overhead. 

On a particularly warm Sunday evening, you wrote a letter to Taehyung, though you had no intention to actually send it out to him. It was something to soothe your soul, to let go of what you once believed to be your future and embrace the unexpected.

Dear Taehyung,

I wish you knew how afraid I was. Then maybe, we could make more sense of what happened to us. I loved you, and a part of me will always love you. I think that’s exactly what scared me. Loving you meant so much to me, maybe more than it should have definitely more than it should have. You told me that I never let you close enough. And you were right. But not because I didn’t want you to be close. I just didn’t know how, didn’t know it was even possible for someone to want that from me. I don’t even think there was enough me, enough humanness, personhood, whatever you would like to call it. There was nothing that you could get close to. I hadn’t learned at that point what it meant to be my own person. That’s what made loving you so natural to me, so necessary. I was shapeless, like water, filling any container that would accept me. Did you feel it too, Taehyung? Did you feel the way my entire being spilled into a mess on the floor when you emptied yourself of me?

Perhaps I should thank you for knowing this was not enough, not what a relationship should feel like. Because in never becoming someone for myself, I could never truly be at peace. I felt like it was all I was good for, loving you, and when you left me, the one thing that proved my worth was gone. I worried maybe this meant I hadn’t deserved to love you in the first place. I realize though, it was never that. 

What I was looking for was always in me. I need to understand myself, to be kind to myself. Nothing can tell me what I deserve except my own actions. I want to move forward with bravery and acceptance. It’s still scary, but I know there’s so much life for me to experience, for me to fall in love with. It never had to be you. I do not need to be a person that lives for others only. I can live for myself, too. There will be a day when I forgive myself for what I couldn’t do for my own heart.

So, thank you, for giving me a chance to live for myself. I understand now that love can look like many things, but letting go is possibly the hardest, most selfless act of love. You have done this for me. I’m still learning things, still growing. But I know that just means I’m heading towards something. Something bigger than what we had. Goodbye, Taehyung.

With love,

___

You didn’t want to be water, formless, waiting to take shape within the dimensions of another person’s soul. You wanted your own soul, something that could house all the allure of being alive. You wanted love to be your choice to make, not some calling that fell into the hands of someone who could never love you in the right ways. And there was a choice you did want to make, someone you knew would never let you erode back into water.

It was 4:30 p.m. If you started running now, you could outrun the odds of being too late. That was on the chance that he would still be there. But knowing him, trusting in the unwavering love of Jimin, you’d take that chance anyday. 

The wind divided where your body surged through it. There was a force stronger than your muscles, more willing than your heart taking you to the cafe. When you arrived, the sun settled into a muted warmth. The metal door handle grew temperate from the grip of your hand. The large window framed this moment, almost still, eager to be introduced to movement. 

And there he was, patient as ever, occupying the same table, stretching into a love that lied so far away. You never felt more sure of yourself that you could bring it closer to him.

I will come back for you.

The second you opened the door, his attention was stolen from his phone. A number of things flashed through his eyes, as though they were spelling out a eulogy. 

“What’s with that face? I told you I’d come back.” You tried your hardest to steady your breathing. 

“___.” His eyebrows hiked up high, incising lines into his forehead. Surprise had never looked so endearing to you. “Wh- What are you doing here?”

“Um, you know…” You bypassed asking permission, filling the empty seat across from him. If only you knew, any table he found himself at always had a seat waiting for you. “Just visiting the area. Decided to get some coffee.”

“Were you now?” He was quick to settle back into stride with you. The two of you pretended not to notice that you had no intention to order, hadn't even bothered to get in line.

“Yeah. You know, I was just thinking.” You spoke through a mild suffocation. Breathing was still precarious, but it had not been due to the running anymore. “I think I have to stop waiting for things to ‘feel’ right.”

“You think so?” It was the same charming lilt in his voice, but you developed a familiarity with it. You missed him.

Had he missed you too?

“I do. I have to start living my life. Even though it’s hard and sometimes right and wrong aren’t very obvious. I do know I’ll be one step closer to finding that ‘right’ I’m looking for if I try. Try everything, but especially love. I want to try at love, whenever I’m given the chance. You helped teach me this. And because of you… I mean…” One more sigh, and you welcomed air into your lungs with ease. “I could be spending this Friday evening doing anything else.”

“But you’re here.”

“I’m here.” When you answered, it wasn’t only for Jimin. “I used to be so scared of the things that make me happy.”

“And now?”

“You make me very happy, Jimin. And I am not scared of you. And if you’ll have me, I’ll stay.” You sighed, took his hand, and intended to never let go unless he asked. “I'll make sure that when you wait in here all day, you won’t be waiting alone."

"You don't need to do that." He said, smiling through tears.

"Why?" Your heart pounded.

"Because you're here now." His other hand covered yours. "I don't have a reason to wait here anymore."

The most skillful thing a writer can do is to choose silence and eventually, action.

The momentum of his racing heart led him to this, to his lips reuniting with yours. This time, it wasn’t starvation that fueled his kiss. It was far more buoyant than before, deeper as you cupped his cheeks. You pressed your lips harder into his as though to test the boundaries of your skin. 

When you’d burned through the momentary passion fostered from two hearts colliding, he turned his face into the caress of your palm, leaving behind a chaste kiss there too. 

“___.” Jimin’s whisper left a compassionate chill in your hand.

“Yes?” It didn’t take long for an urge to reconnect your lips to settle back in when his thumb grazed your jaw. 

“Let's go home.” His eyes were brimming with tears, finding company with your eyes, love flowing freely between them.

It wasn’t important where home was, just that hope emerged when you nodded, allowing him to move on from this memorial overrun with inhibitions. He was ready; he wanted this cafe to be embalmed in something sweeter than aimless longing. Perhaps, grief in its most loving form, the kind that does not keep him static. 

Even as the mouth of worry formed into a grimace, neither you nor Jimin turned away. Your skin was bound through a commitment, one where water is water and you are human, flesh, bones, blood and all.

You passed through the door as if it was an altar. There was a vow embedded in your departure, communicated through your hands lacing into his. To grab hold of the goodness wherever you may find it, to look for it, and most importantly, to love yourselves enough to untether your hearts from the tired grip of the past. Because neither of you belonged in the past anymore.

It was undeniable. The only place you belonged was in this moment, one that brought you and Jimin together. 

“Look up.” He said. “Beautiful, isn't it?”

Your gazes lifted into the sky. The night was tepid, the most beautiful shade of blue, a calmness making the air around the two of you weightless and open. 

And those stars.

“Yes, it is.” Yes, we are. You recited again, to yourself.

“Let's give them something to burn for, my love.” He said, guiding you forward, guiding you home.

╌──────────═❁═──────────╌

a/n: i hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! take what you need, leave what must be let go. embrace love in all forms. as our boys say, love yourself. i believe in you. <3

[like-a-bantha]

Sleep Study

Summary: When there's no time for piloting lessons, you suggest a sort of learning-by-osmosis experiment to Tech. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Tech/GN Reader (No Y/N)

Rating: T

Warnings: Language, not beta-read

Word Count: 6.2K

AO3 | Masterlist

Now, this might sound weird – maybe even a tad disrespectful – but bear with me.

I’ve recently begun piloting lessons with Tech and I couldn’t ask for a better teacher. He knows, while I am a proficient mechanic, I’m a total novice when it comes to actually flying, and the man deserves a medal for his patience with me. I’ll ask the same question five times and he only gets mildly agitated around the third, but he’s always been understanding. Not everyone can be a certified genius, after all.

So lessons have been going pretty not bad, I’d say; it’s the workload that’s been causing problems. Cid’s got us going from job to job with almost no breaks. Lately we’re lucky if we get half a rotation to stop and refuel, let alone catch our breath. We’re all exhausted. We’re all on edge. It’s gotten to the point where we’ve had to put a pause on the lessons for a few days just to keep up with general maintenance on top of the back-to-back missions. Thankfully, in those few quiet moments where we can get to that maintenance, I’ve been able to sort of keep up on my lessons thanks to Tech’s rants. And maybe, for whatever reason, my brain decided these rants were incredibly soothing on one particular sleepless flight. And maybe, who knows why, I may have fallen asleep just a bit. It didn’t seem like Tech was angry, or even upset. He was almost apologetic when he gently nudged me awake.

Today, after landing on Ord Mantell for an incredibly brief pit stop, Tech and I work in silence below the ship. He’s been quiet with me since my last accidental nap and I just can’t figure out how to voice how sorry I am without sounding — I don’t know. Disingenuous? And if I’m honest, how do I avoid sounding like a total creep? But we’re just working next to each other, neither of us saying a word, and it’s nice but it’s not us and there’s this massive knot in my gut saying well, it’s your own fault, don’t you remember? 

This silence is awfully comfortable. It really would be such a shame if something were to change that.

“Hey, Tech,” I jumped in without a plan and I’ve given up hope on this being eloquent in any way, at this point I’ll be glad if my question is at least somewhat coherent, “I’m sorry about,” I trail off a bit, I don’t want to finish that sentence actually, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep, but I just, I had this idea — weird idea — and maybe a request? Feel free to shoot it down, I mean, if it’s too much. Would you mind sending me the audio files of your lessons? Sorry, just, they’re really interesting but also relaxing and, and, maybe it can be a sort of experiment, y’know? If I fall asleep listening will I retain the information? Strange idea, sorry.”

Tech stares blankly, and when I turn to meet his gaze after giving myself a moment to reboot, he continues to stare blankly. His head is just barely tilted, and he wears a look somewhere between genuine confusion and borderline concern. With a slight shake of his head he finally responds, “Forgive me, I’m afraid I do not follow.”

If only there was a way to smash your head into a wall a few times without doing any real damage. I’d kill for that right about now. I could’ve just kept my mouth shut but no. Real bang-up job on my part.

“I, uh, I fell asleep the other day because – well, because I was tired, mainly – I don’t know, I just find your voice really soothing? Like, everything’s been really chaotic lately but listening to you talk about paralight systems made it,” I take a deep breath, no going back now, “ah, it made it a lot less chaotic. Like everything was quiet for a minute. Safe.”

Another long exhale. Tech’s still silent, processing, but his brows are raised now and his eyes have gone a bit wide behind his goggles. I can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing just yet. It’s probably best to go against my gut and keep my mouth shut for a few minutes, but now the minutes feel longer than usual. Karked this one up a bit, I think.

“So you would like the audio files to… study?” I nod before he even finishes his sentence. “Or will you be using them to fall asleep?” I’m still nodding and it certainly isn’t helping his confusion at all.

“Both?” I shrug.

He raises his gloved hand inquisitively to his chin, and his face is blank aside from the visible pondering, and now I’m really starting to think I’ve karked it all up. I could’ve put more thought into it, taken my time both in the apology and easing him into the idea of sharing his pre-recorded knowledge, but instead I sloppily tossed all my cards on the table knowing I had a shit hand. And not just any shit hand, no, it’s an alarmingly weird hand. Just as I’m about to start spewing apologies his hand drops slightly from his chin, index finger extended, “An interesting experiment indeed. I shall transfer the files of our previous lessons as well as my own personal recordings.”

Huh.

Wait. “Personal recordings?” Why do my ears feel warm?

Luckily for me his face is buried too deep in his datapad to notice the tinge of red creeping up my neck. “Yes, before you joined our squad and long before our schedule became so hectic, I kept an audio diary of sorts. Detailed accounts of my findings on missions.”

“Cool,” Yes, I can feel how wide and dopey my grin is but I’m still riding the high of my botched opener somehow working and couldn’t care less. “I feel like I remember seeing you telling a bug facts about itself way back when I met you guys. Makes sense now.”

His brows immediately furrow as he finally pulls his gaze away from the glowing screen in his hands. “You assumed I was talking to the insect?”

Straight faced, I raise both my hands like I’m pleading innocent. “Hey, I don’t judge.”

I break first. My shoulders begin to shake, then my still-raised hands, as the laughter bubbles up. Tech isn’t far behind. We look at each other as we laugh and I can’t help thinking that if it were anyone else I’d hide my face, but it’s like I’ve just now realized turning away would mean missing this uncharacteristically uncontained joy. 

Normally I hate sleeping in my helmet. I know it’s for protection or whatever, but there are few things worse than waking up with a crick in your neck and the gnarly one-two punch that is the bed-head-helmet hair hybrid. Alas, I am dedicated to not only my experiment but also not getting mocked by Wrecker for the next week for listening to Tech’s lecture on, let’s see… “Botanical Symbolism in Folklore Across Kashyyyk”? Sounds interesting. But since I’m not on watch for another seven hours, I can actually take my time choosing rather than scrolling a few pages ahead to the B’s and picking the first one that stands out. I kept scrolling and skimming for a while, he must’ve sent his entire audio library to me; there are hundreds of pages and I’m barely halfway through the aurebesh. Then I’m suddenly scrolling rapidly back to the top of the page as if my subconscious just had a great idea that I’m simply too conscious to understand, and that great idea is to sort the files in chronological order.

I don’t have to scroll back very far at all, Tech wasn’t kidding when he said he only stopped his audio diary when the work started. There’s one titled “The mountainous planet of Guntcania 5” from a few days before we last left Ord Mantell. We’d been sent to loot a newly abandoned Imperial shipyard, driven out by a group of formidable freedom fighters whom we were told were not in it for the profit but the valiant cause. Turns out it was both. I remember Tech quietly commenting on the geological formations to no one in particular. I remember standing a bit closer to hear his comments. I fell asleep just shy of eleven minutes after hitting play.

He caught me in the kitchen not long after I woke up, both of us beelining to the instant caf.

“Thought your shift was over,” I grab two packets from the drawer as Tech retrieves two mugs from the cupboard, “Want some of that herbal tea instead? Get some rest, maybe?”

It’s nice, these quiet moments with him. I’ll watch the kettle, if that old saying is true maybe I can buy us a few more of those moments.

“I have yet to decrypt the schematics from the refinery,” With a heavy sigh he sets the datapad down on the countertop, his shoulders hang and his exhaustion is visible, “Once I’ve completed that and analyze the data I will rest. Until then, I will stick with caf.”

I give a sympathetic smile, “Y’know, I’d offer to help but I think that isn’t exactly my area of expertise.”

“I would more than appreciate the company,” Tech interjects, and by the look on his face I think it took us both by surprise. “If you would be so kind as to join me, that is. Though, if you have duties you must attend to I completely understand and–”

My surprise quickly melts into a warm smile. “‘Course, Tech. I’d love to.” And his face softens in turn. And then there’s a beat where we’re just standing there smiling at each other. Then another. And another. Have you ever seen a tooka knock a cup off of a table and jump at the sound of the crash? Now, imagine that but instead of a tooka it’s two mercenaries, and instead of the clatter of a cup it’s the kettle coming to a boil with an abrupt screech. I think we’d find it much funnier if we weren’t still in the vast realm of half-asleep. Right now, it’s just enough to elicit a soft chuckle at most.

Tech retrieves his datapad as I fix the caf. “Have you begun conducting your experiment? I’m sure you’ve already seen, but I have transferred all of my files from the past year or so, I’m interested to hear your findings.”

It’s enough to slow my movements, brain power diverted to processing his question as I reach for the milk at half speed. “Oh. I, uh, I played the one from Guntcania 5. Didn’t last long, though, I was out by the time you got to regional climates.”

“You were with us for that mission. Perhaps choosing a mission or topic you are unfamiliar with would better prove your theory.”

I nod once before turning to join him, a steaming mug in each hand, carefully placing the caf in front of him as I sit. “Realized as soon as I woke up. Any recommendations for tonight's file?”

He names several from memory as he works on his own task, giving brief descriptions of each without giving away too much — that could skew the results. I add them all to a separate folder, sorting them in order of how excited Tech seemed at the topic.

Of course, things got hectic again and I didn’t have time for experiments – I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been listening to those files, though. Five rotations, a standard week’s worth of sleeps and dreams in the tune of Tech’s voice. I’m waking up well-rested despite sleeping only a handful of hours at a time. I’m practically begging the force to fry some wiring or call off a job to spend even just a few minutes with him. I’m starting to think I may have a problem.

Cid called while we were out hunting down puffer pigs for one of her clients. Hunter walked away with the holoprojector about halfway through the conversation, he later told Omega this was to avoid scaring the animals but Echo and I overheard the real reason. That’s another ten credits in the swear jar. When we get one, that is; right now it’s sort of just an honor system. Next mission – big client, big payout, big enough to hack away a good chunk of our debt and take a couple days off – was called off at the last second, she’d try talking to the client again but, right now, and I quote, “He ain’t budgin’.” We’re still on call, though, and flat broke after our last refuel, so this is really just the galaxy’s worst vacation. Hunter’s hushed and extensive vocabulary perfectly summed up our feelings on the matter.

I was going to try to get some rest on the way back to Ord Mantell but puffer pigs are noisy enough in a relaxed state, toss six of them in a cramped starship and toss that starship into hyperspace and you’ll start to realize noisy doesn’t even begin describe it. Poor Hunter’s locked himself in the ‘fresher, of course Tech installed some sound dampening element to the audio relay in his helmet, but that can only do so much. Omega and Wrecker tried calming the animals to no avail, they’ve resorted to tossing bits of ration bars at them as – I’d say tasty, but eugh – edible bribes. Echo and Tech are arguing over something; it’s small, I think, but I’m too tired to step in and mediate right now. What was supposed to be a short flight felt like years.

“Never thought I’d be happy to be back here, but it sure beats being stuck in hyperspace with these things,” Echo says quietly, carefully lowering the crate in his arms, making sure not to wake the puffer pig that had just fallen asleep. I gently placed the crate I was holding right next to it, maybe when they wake up in this new place seeing one another will calm them down. Or they’ll freak out together.

“Between you and the puffer pigs, I must choose the latter,” Tech mutters, still snippy after the long journey, Echo and I turn to look at him in unison.

Echo’s expression is that of a brother who’s accustomed to that sort of teasing, flat and unphased. Mine, however…

“Hey,” I do my best to keep my voice down, “Not cool.”

Echo’s expression is no longer unphased. It is phased. There’s confusion, surprise, the hint of a smile; he seemed as tired as the rest of us before, but this clearly perked him up. Usually when I step in on these little disagreements I remain as unbiased as I can but I am now, very clearly, taking Echo’s side and now he’s visibly interested in seeing how this plays out. I know I still look hurt by the comment that wasn’t even about me. And Tech, his shift in emotion is visible, I could see him process his remark and my reaction, and his furrowed brows loosen as he looks between the two of us.

“You are correct,” Tech nods once, looking to his brother, “Apologies, Echo, I did not mean that.”

After a moment, a smile graces Echo’s face, “I’ll accept that apology.” And gives his brother a solid pat on the shoulder on his way over to the bar.

“I get grumpy-tired, too, I know how it is,” I bump him with my shoulder, an attempt to break a tension that was not there.

“You do not seem grumpy right now,” Tech breathes out a laugh.

I shrug, “Well maybe I’m not tired right now. Maybe I’m just–” My body decides this is the perfect time for an unsuppressable yawn. “Maybe I’m too tired to be grumpy-tired.”

Tech hums, “A valid theory, it seems.” With a tired chuckle and lazy nod I glance around the near-empty bar. Wrecker and Echo sit at the counter with their drinks while they recount the mission to Cid. Hunter’s setting up the cot for Omega, who is already beginning to fall asleep at Cid’s desk, before he joins his brothers. “I am going to head back to the Marauder and get some rest if you care to accompany me.”

“Yes, please, a quiet ship and sleep sounds like heaven right now,” He stands aside, allowing me to lead the way out of the parlor after saying goodnight to our squadmates.

The cool air of Ord Mantell is enough to keep me awake just long enough to carry myself back to the ship. I hear the ghost of a laugh beside me as another yawn takes hold of me. “I fear you may have conditioned yourself, the sound of my voice alone seems to be putting you to sleep.”

Turns out I’m not too tired for a good laugh, “Yeah, keep talking and you’re gonna have to carry me the rest of the way.”

“I assure you, I was trained to carry men twice my size across the battlefield, I can manage.”

“Right,” I nod, later I’ll blame my dopey smile on exhaustion, “Hey, wait, why men twice your size?”

“It is standard protocol.”

“No, like, isn’t it a one size type of deal? Clones and all, y’know,” He stares blankly at me. “Well, yeah, a few exceptions, but broadly speaking it’s just the one size.”

“I see,” Tech says, and I’ve got this look like I just beat a holochess master, “Your exhaustion has caused a state of delirium. Perhaps this means I’m forced to carry you the rest of the way to best keep you safe.” A barked laugh escapes me at that. “Very well.”

Wait. “Wait! No, no, I’m good! I’m up! I’m awake!” And I am, very much so now as I pick up my pace to evade capture. After my laughter subsides I slow my steps to a walk, and Tech quickly catches up, as we traverse the familiar streets of Ord Mantell.

The Marauder’s ramp lowers with a hiss as we approach. “Dibs on the sonic,” I call over my shoulder as I scurry towards the refresher, Tech makes no protest and takes his time boarding the starship. Our water supply, while it is thankfully abundant these days, always seems to be stuck at the average human body temperature – no warmer, no colder – but at least the cycle itself doesn’t last long at all. A full-body shower only takes about three minutes in the sonic, Republic standard for conservation of resources and time between missions according to Tech. While it is efficient, I do miss a good boiling hot, thirty minute shower to tell the truth; I’d never tell the squad that, though, I’m grateful for what we’ve got.

The chime of my datapad sounded halfway through the sonic’s cycle and I emerge to find a message from Tech. A new audio file and a handful of recommendations. I dress myself with an all-too-giddy smile. After hastily gathering up my things from the ‘fresher I elbow the door control, ready to shout my thanks to the clone and surrender the now warm ‘fresher to him. Instead, however, I am met with the clone himself, standing in front of the doorway, datapad in one hand while the other is in position to knock on the now open door.

He retracts that hand quickly, though, he still looks as if he’s about to say something but nothing has come out yet.

I decide to take the lead. “Hey, thanks for the message. ‘Fresher’s all yours.” 

His parted lips form a smile. “I- you are welcome.” But when I exit the refresher and step to the side he makes no move to enter. “After reviewing a handful of files I found those to be most interesting, I hope this helps your experiment.”

My grin widens, “Thank you, Tech, it’ll definitely help.” He nods just once with a smile before retreating into the ‘fresher. Maybe I stared at the door just a second too long. Maybe I even let out a quiet little giggle before heading over to my bunk.

I can hear the sonic start as I finally turn in, scrolling through highlighted files on my datapad while I try to get comfortable on the flat old mattress pad which always proves to be an impossible task. My sights lock in on a file between two of Tech’s suggestions labeled “Repairs and Maintenance”. Do I already know the in’s and out’s of most starships? Of course. Do I still learn something new everytime Tech talks about the in’s and out’s of the Marauder? Of kriffing course. Perfect.

The sonic’s still running when I put my helmet on and hit play, and I’m promptly out like a light.

I wake with a stir when I feel something plush fall on my helmeted head and open my eyes to see a large hand reach down and grab the offending object. Wrecker whispers an apology as he gingerly retrieves his Lula after dropping her into my bunk. Still half asleep, I can’t decide if that sorry was for me or the doll. The guys are back.

With a quiet, sleepy groan, I roll onto my side and pull my knees to my chest, blindly reaching for the datapad behind me. Waking the device is a mistake as I am instantly shocked by its brightness, my eyes snap shut and I dim the screen. I’ve moved onto a new recording, it seems. This one is titled “Atmospheric Changes of Taccoh”, about five minutes in. Taccoh was one of my first missions with them, I remember my excitement at how well we worked together as a team. I’m not usually good on a team, but clicking with these guys was just easy. It just felt right.

“—they seem to be adjusting rather well to mercenary work. I must say, they are quite the knowledgeable mechanic and are proving to be a great asset to the squad. Wrecker’s comments on their romantic interest in me are, in my opinion, absurd. Though I would not be opposed to such interest, I find the probability highly unlikely. Their interest, as I’ve observed, lies both in their work and the pursuit of knowledge. Qualities I find most admirable, as well as —“

Pause.

The heart rate monitor on my dimmed HUD glows an ominous red as the number rises.

Oh god. Kriff. I found Tech’s kriffing diary.

I pry the helmet from my head, foregoing any attempt to fix my surely frazzled hair, still damp from the fresher, and swing my legs over the side of my bunk to sit up. My whole body is tense, my knuckles pale from the force of my grip on the durasteel frame. Fresh air. Yes. Fresh air would do me good right now, I’d say.

The room seems to spin as I fumble for my boots and the sheer volume at which my mind screams nearly drowns out Echo, half-asleep and confused, staring at me through squinted eyes from his bunk.

“You alright?” His tired voice repeats.

“Yes, yeah,” I answer, all too quickly, “just need some air, is all. You okay? You good? Sleeping okay?”

Echo’s brows furrow, he shifts slightly to face me properly, “I was,” he suppresses a yawn and I hurry up with my boots, “but then you shot up like you saw a ghost.”

My laughter is quiet but crazed, and I can barely hear it, “Ship’s not haunted, Echo, go back to sleep.” 

I stand to leave but the quiet call of my name stops me in my tracks, I turn to face the sleepy clone. “You sure you’re alright?” 

“I’m fine,” I try to make it sound convincing but I know it’s a sorry attempt, “really, get some rest. Be back soon.” His gaze remains fixed on me for a moment longer before he shuts his eyes, nodding before settling his head on the pillow once again. I let out a portion of a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding as I hurry out of the ship and into the crisp night air of Ord Mantel.

My feet take me to Cid’s. She shut the sign off but I can hear the jukebox from the street, no luck kicking out the regulars for the night, it seems. My feet then decide to take me down the stairs. Then to the bar.

“Great, I try to kick two out and a third appears,” the trandoshan huffs from behind the bar, “If you’re looking for dark and broody and the kid, they’re sleeping. Not sure how, these two bozos won’t shut up.” She shouts in the direction of the booming jukebox and patrons as she pours two drinks before sliding one to me.

“Hey, can I get your take on something?” I down the drink, extending the cup in a silent request. 

She glances tentatively first at my now empty cup, then at her own drink, before quickly finishing it to pour us each a second round. “Depends.”

“On?”

“Tell ya after I hear it.”

I laugh into my drink. “This stays between us.” She laughs into her drink. “Or I can just finish my free drink and leave.”

“Fine, fine. Between us.” She waves a dismissive hand. “But it better be interesting or these are going on your tab.”

My brows furrow, I nod just once before finishing my second drink, and the second the empty cup makes contact with the sticky countertop I blurt it out, “I listened to Tech’s diary.”

She waits for me to go on, I wait for her to be a voice of reason. Neither of us get what we’re looking for. “Alright, you found Goggles’ diary. And?”

“And?” I echo, incredulously. “I accidentally listened to some really, really personal stuff that I can’t un-listen to, what do I do? Do I tell him? What, do I say ‘Hey, Tech, so the learning by osmosis experiment was a bust but a little birdie — you, you’re the birdie — told me you had a big ol’ crush on me, for, like a while, so I just wanted to —‘ I don’t know what I want. Kriff, this is bad, isn’t it?”

Cid stares at me like I’m a three-headed mythosaur for what feels like hours, I try to calm my breathing, try to take a sip from my already empty cup. I’m only pulled out of my thought loop by the howl of Cid’s laughter. It even manages to pull Bolo and Ketch’s attention away from the jukebox, if only for a second. In all the time I’ve known her, I’ve never heard Cid laugh so hard. My look of shock remains even as her laughter subsides.

“Good one, kid. You almost had me for a second there.” She gently wipes a tear from the corner of her eye, but the laughter returns when she notices my expression is unchanged. “Oh, you’re serious?”

“Obviously I’m kriffing serious! Cid, I’m kind of in deep shit here, I need advice, I don’t need you laughing in my face!”

“Oh, relax, it’s not like you didn’t know. You idiots have been pining over each other from day one. Didn’t think Goggles would make the first move, though, I owe Muscles ten credits.” She mutters, though clearly still amused.

“I didn’t know! Force, how would I have known!” I put my head down on the bar with a sigh. “So, what, everyone knows and I’m just the last to find out?”

“Got it.”

All I can manage is a dramatic groan.

“Just talk to him, what’s the worst that can happen?”

I don’t even need to think about it, “I say exactly what I said before, weird him out, and go back to working by myself because he never wants to see me again.”

“Yeesh, try living a little sometime, kid. It’ll do you good,” Cid cringes into her cup, “Talk to him. Trust me.”

With a roll of my eyes I extend my empty cup one last time, Cid fills it without a word and I down the drink before leaving the empty glass on the bar as I stand, “Those were on you, I could’ve gotten better advice from Bolo and Ketch.”

“Can’t argue with you there, they’ve been together as long as I’ve known them,” She rinses out the empty cup and tosses it into the washer. “He’s crazy about you, kid. Just tell him how you feel.”

Cid’s words play on repeat in my mind as I wander the now empty city streets. Talk to him right, easier said than done. What if he’s not ready for a relationship? What if I’m not? We’re already so busy, will we really have the time? What if this changes our dynamic irreparably? What if I lose my closest friend?

It takes hearing someone call my name to pull me from what could’ve been an eternal thought loop. I’m back at Cid’s, a weary Hunter stands below the glowing sign, his arms crossed and he somehow looks both concerned and amused, “Going for a fourth lap around the block?” My lips part as if I could form a response but I come up short, opting to shrug instead. “Care if I join you?” I nod and we walk side by side, allowing silence to settle between us.

“Thought you were asleep,” I break that silence. Better to get it out of the way now, I figure I know where this is going.

“Not with all that noise,” Hunter lets out a deep sigh, he must know he could just power the damn jukebox down and get some rest. “I don’t know how Omega does it, that kid can sleep through anything.”

“She’s exhausted,” I let out a sigh of my own, “We all are.”

“Cid’s focused in on this puffer pig client, that’ll buy us some time to regroup, rest up.”

“Good. That’s good.”

Hunter nods, the silence that follows is not as easy or relaxed as earlier. He breaks it first, “I’m assuming you know what I’m about to say.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the plan?”

“Talk, I guess. Can’t not now, huh?”

“That’s your choice,” He stops walking, catching me off guard, I stop a few paces ahead and turn to face him, “Never thought I’d say it, but I’m with Cid. The happiest I’ve ever seen him is when he’s talking to you. I get the feeling the same goes for you.”

I bite the inside of my lip, suppressing the smile that threatens to light up my face. Not the time. I nod, crossing my arms, “It does.”

“Good,” He smiles this warm, genuine smile before his serious sergeant demeanor returns, “Don’t let it get in the way of the job.”

“Copy that.” I give him a mock salute, to which his head drops with a tired laugh before his ears perk up. I raise my eyebrows in question as he turns his head in the direction of the parlor.

“Music’s stopped,” Hunter takes a step forward, extending an arm to pat my shoulder before retreating. “Get some rest.”

“Thanks, Hunter.” I give a little wave and watch as he retreats to the now quiet bar down the dimly lit street.

I begin my walk back to the ship, my mind still racing but not nearly as catastrophically quick as before my chat with Hunter. He’s probably still asleep, and I’m not planning on going back to the ship to wake him up and talk about this. My best bet would be to shoot him a message, ask if we could talk when he wakes up. Word travels too fast with these guys and the last thing I want is Wrecker bragging to his brothers about how he put his money on Tech and won. When I reach for my datapad I find the pocket is empty. Of course. I pick up the pace, almost frantically trying to recall whether or not I locked the device in my hasty departure. Odds aren’t looking great, though.

I take my boots off at the bottom of the ramp and tip-toe up in bare feet. Two out of the three men aboard are light sleepers and the last thing I want is to wake them as if I’m some teen sneaking back home after a party. Quiet as a mouse droid, I make my way back to my bunk as Wrecker’s snores reverberate through the durasteel walls. I’m greeted by my helmet, tossed haphazardly next to my pillow, but no datapad. Uh-oh. I glance into Echo’s bunk and find him sleeping, but the bunk above his, Tech’s bunk, remains empty. You’ve gotta be kriffing kidding me. Back to my tip-toes, I make my way to the kitchenette first, also empty, then the cockpit. The control panel is dimmed and all of the seats turned forward, if it weren’t for the tell-tale glow of a datapad screen I’d have thought Tech had simply vanished.

Without a word I join him, only releasing a quiet sigh as I sit in the copilot’s seat. He doesn’t look up from the datapad, its screen displaying the evidence of my discovery in bold text. “I didn’t intend to include such personal files.”

“Yeah, I didn’t intend to listen.” He nods before handing me my device, our gazes still not meeting. I take a turn staring at the display, rereading the title of the file over and over as I continue, “I fell asleep listening to ‘Repairs and Maintenance’, woke up to this one.”

“I, again, must sincerely apologize for any discomfort this finding has brought you, I was not planning to tell you in such an impersonal manner.”

“How did you…” I trail off, he was fast asleep when I left, I never pegged him for the type to pretend to be asleep and his quiet snores sounded so real.

“Echo woke me up, it was shortly after you had left. He said you appeared to be in a state of shock, I found you’d left your datapad open on your bunk.”

“That checks out.” Now that I’m here with him I can almost find the humor in the situation, I even manage a quiet laugh, “I’m sorry I flipped out, I just wasn’t expecting to wake up to that, I guess.”

He finally turns to face me, “You have nothing to apologize for.” “Neither do you,” I retort, meeting his gaze with a smile. I can almost see his thought process before his mouth forms an ‘o’ shape as he realizes the meaning behind my words. I continue, regardless, I heard him spill his guts, it’s only fair I do the same for him, “I feel the same way, Tech. I have for a while. Come to think of it, maybe I always have. Your feelings didn’t scare me, the possibilities did.”

He cocks his head in question, “Possibilities?”

“I’m scared of our dynamic changing, I’m scared I’ll kriff it all up and lose you. I’m no good at this kind of stuff and the last thing I want is for our relationship to suffer because of me,” I ignore the tears beginning to form in my eyes, turning my attention back to the viewport. Tech’s gaze, however, remains locked on me.

A hand reaches out, resting gently on mine, his thumb ghosting across my shaking fingers, “My darling, the fact that you are willing to voice these fears should be evidence enough that you have nothing to worry about. You contain a level of emotional intelligence that will never cease to amaze me. Should you choose to act upon these feelings, I assure you, we will be just fine.”

My eyes meet his, I don’t notice a tear has fallen until he reaches his hand up to wipe it away. When he notices how I lean into his touch, he cradles my cheek ever so gently, and I shut my eyes to savor the feeling, letting a warm smile wash away my worried frown. I rest a still-shaky hand upon his, opening my eyes to meet his once again, “What do you say we figure it out together, then?”

“A wonderful idea, darling,” Tech closes the small distance between us, placing a kiss upon my forehead. I can feel his smile. “However, I’ll need to review my files before you continue your experiment.”

I pull back, a look of faux shock on my face, too giddy to feel the real thing right now, “You mean there’s more?”

“Frankly, an embarrassing amount, perhaps we will review them someday but I’ve taken the liberty of deleting the more… risque files from your library.”

I’m glad the door to the cockpit is closed, otherwise the volume of my laugh surely would’ve woken both Echo and Wrecker, “Risque?!”

“I would greatly appreciate it if you refrained from mocking me,” Tech sighs, the mirth in his tone evident.

“Maybe that can be the next experiment,” I laugh with a smirk.

“Mocking me does not sound like an experiment I would have any interest in partaking in, thank you very–” His mild offense fades away in realization, “Oh. An interesting experiment, indeed.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed! As always, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated, I love hearing your feedback! Part two will be posted soon <3

[magnorious]

Review: I Plunge to My Death; Percy Jackson Ep. 4

TL;DR: They turned a pit-stop into a main event and troubles ensued.

The consequences of shoving half the book into the first two episodes? Episode 4. Baby Percy is, again, adorable, no complaints. The opening scene, Kronos’ slithery voice – we are right back in the thick of it, until we’re not. Best part of the episode is easily the first 4 minutes and it does not recover, I am sorry.

Echidna gets a ridiculous amount of screen time, monologuing on and on and on… On the train, no less, not in the Arch.

Adaptations are allowed to be their own thing, but they are *adaptations* first. The choices that were made in the source material were made for a reason. If the book was bad, no one would have read it, and money wouldn’t be spent turning it into a TV show.

So, in the book, Echidna had a couple pages, and Percy was completely alone confronting her. She showed up, revealed herself, got a one-liner or two in, kicked his butt, and then he fell – end of scene. It was a whirlwind of chaos and incredibly efficient without being spoonfed “I am a monster” until they get the picture.

The purpose of this beat in the story came from Percy’s experience in the river and then St. Louis is behind them – it’s a pitstop, not a centerpiece. Echidna has no thematic connection to any of the characters like Medusa, she doesn’t need to overstay her welcome.

If you didn’t read the book, the episode is fine. The writing is okay, the acting, the VFX. They do retain the family of centaurs and establish Grover being a Searcher for Pan.

It’s not bad! It’s puzzling. The changes are puzzling.

All the filler – Echidna’s monologue, Athena’s temple, Annabeth being unnecessarily rude to Grover, Percy getting poisoned – they don’t feel like the same meaningful changes that were made to extend Medusa’s scenes. They feel like they exist to fill an entire episode before the next big set piece that has to wait until episode 5. The pacing has been thrown completely off balance.

Which wouldn’t have happened if they didn’t rush ten chapters of content.

Because they knew exactly how long the chimera fight would be – about 45 seconds, beat for beat, exactly as it was written. Echidna is just not important in the grand scheme of the story. They still have to fill an entire episode now, so what do they do?

They double back on the character development and the growing friendship established in episode 3 when they all start arguing over Athena for… reasons? In Athena’s temple, Annabeth’s suggestion for Percy to reach out to his dad there would be mighty offensive to the goddess. She calls herself out, saying she knows she’s forcing herself to believe Athena cares about her, the way it was written just makes her look selfish and rude.

There Grover is, all upset about the monument filled with paintings of humans over-hunting buffalo and Annabeth’s response is basically “get over it”. Doesn’t matter if she regrets it once he’s gone, she doesn’t apologize to him and she still believes what she said.

Percy doesn’t need to be poisoned to lose hard to Echidna and the chimera. He’s at his full strength and still panics and botches the fight. He already doubts that his dad cares about him.

The episode does recover its footing somewhat (after padding the runtime) by finally getting him alone in the last 8 minutes. Percy cements his disdain for his dad and how little he feels appreciated, respected, or even noticed by the gods – enough to decide he’ll fight and probably lose alone because he doesn’t matter to the gods anyway. Once he’s in the river, the nereid shows up, tells him to breathe, that Poseidon’s proud, and… cut to black. There's no wonder at his new abilities, no fascination, no "maybe being a demigod is a little bit cool, wow," and no consideration that his dad does care, even a little bit.

The only book change for the better? Percy choosing to go at it alone instead of ending up alone by accident.

I hate to come down so hard on this episode but pacing is critical. The beginning of the book feels slow because there’s a lot of internal monologue, a lot of introspection, lots of breaks between action, and several time skips – Percy spends a couple days at camp before going on his quest and packs a lot of character building moments into it – and they rushed through it all.

St. Louis was already rushed in the book, and this is where they decided to throw in all the filler to slow it down? Writers, if you wanted to pad the runtime, include Gladiola the Poodle giving them directions. Include chapter 14 – the entirety of which is spent in the river establishing new powers and getting told about the gift in Santa Monica, and exacerbating the problem of Percy being mistaken for a terrorist. Ares can still wait and no one would complain.

It’s not the acting, from anyone. It’s not the directing, either. Everyone who worked on this show: The actors, the editors, the set designers, costume department, makeup department, VFX, foley, props, music and sound design, and everyone in between – you all did fantastic and your work is recognized and appreciated.

It’s the big picture that just did not come together this time.

I really, truly, wanted to enjoy this episode coming off the high that was Episode 3 and I’m just left confused once again at all the choices that were made. Just because the bar for greatness was two feet into the topsoil from the first adaptation doesn’t mean it gets to skate by on “well it’s better than what we got before”.

[ms-scarletwings]

I am sorry to bother you but I have to say, I feel Dib got treated too harshly most of the time. It's the point of the story yes but at times it just feels flat out sadistic for no reason.

It's why the Gargantis Array comic storyline sucks to me, it was just two issues of buildup to make Dib a gross fat joke and humiliate him across space. Jhonen just really seems to love torturing Dib more than anyone and it's rarely even deserved.

Oh, this is the opposite of a bother, friendo!

I actually have a lot of reading to still do on the topic of the comics. I’m woefully only really up to good knowledge about issues 46-49 and a lot of bits of pieces otherwise. If what you’re saying rings true, that is sad to hear, but pretty interesting still. I’ve always in the back of my head been a little afraid that Dib’s karma could be flanderized to the point of making him a butt monkey. Especially when we all know that’s supposed to be Skoodge’s job! (waka waka)

As for the show, honestly? I think they managed the balance just fine. It’s not so much that the show was specifically cruel to him, but that sadism broadly was one of its central themes and there were no efforts made to exclude Dib from that. And why should they have? He’s not an innocent woobie, and in fact is actually in the seat of a very ambitious antagonist against the real main character’s goals. Arbitrary events of misfortune and pain were the bread and butter of the series back then, and almost no one was spared. Jhonen (who cameoed himself in the show just to choke on a fish and die for a joke) also from what I hear injected a lot of his own qualities into Dib, so I imagine it probably IS very entertaining to him to give the boy the works.

From what I have seen of the comics, that looks like a much finer line to tow. And this more of an off the cuff ramble, but you know what I think??? I think they made Dib a touch way too sympathetic actually. There’s so much more focus on just him and Zim’s side antics, and the more time you take Dib off world and away from the rest of the Earth side characters, the fewer reminders they give you about how many of his problems are majorly self inflicted and how much of a disturbance he can be to society. And, for better or worse, a less dark overall tone in the comics means that the moments of overtly black comedy are going to stand out a little more against the modernized background by contrast.

And there’s another elephant in the room that kind of gets to me, personally. As well as I can put it well, the art style change kind of really affects the lens he can be viewed through. Maybe more than most people want to admit. And I’m not dissing the rounded down, brightened up change, it’s not a better or worse direction from the show… but it is a different one with different strengths and weaknesses.

Like, look at Dib’s early season model sheets for a base of reference.

Now compare him alongside the comic and Florpus interpretation of Dib Membrane. OBVS I am simplifying a ton here, there’s a ton of room for more range than these examples.

I’m not here to say he’s a better or worse Dib visually, he’s still Dib to me! But is notable how comic Dib actually breaks a ton of the “rules” of what kind of character they wanted Dib to be. To put it one way, they sanded down some of his edges and he’s not as apparently “skrungly” as he used to be.

What I like about the change is that it actually gives the better impression of him actually being the lil dorkass kid he’s always been. He’s got a slight aesthetic shift that shows off his unique interests and it definitely sets him apart from Zim, who actually retained most of his own show design. He’s still got some funny lookin’ qualities and he’s so much more endearing

One of the downsides of all that, however, is probably that he’s so damn endearing and as a default.

I dunno if you ever watched Little Shop of Horrors, amazing musical btw, but, it’s supposed to have this whole tragic ending where the main character’s, Seymour’s, long chain of mistakes catch up with him and he meets his demise. In the movie, they casted Rick Moranis for the character, and he played such a puppy-eyed, adorkable Seymour that it made audiences suddenly too bummed out to even appreciate the dark ending. They hated it so much that the crew actually just changed the ending completely so that Seymour gets a consequence-free happy ending with everything he ever wanted. Even though he’s literally a serial murderer of sorts. You were always supposed to feel for him, but not to the point where watching him fail just makes you feel horrible.

I think Dib works kinda like that on a meta level.

If there’s any ruling on what goes over that invisible line when it comes to handling his character, I think Florpus Gaz nailed it right on the head. Dib is never supposed to just utterly break under the weight of his world. Can he sometimes crack? Yeah totally, especially in the “brink of madness” sense. Or if it’s funny. The golden rule is not to give him more than he can handle, and Dib CAN handle a lot of bullshit. He may be a frustrated lil squirt but he’s been at this for a very long time, and it’s hype af watching how he’s not slowing down even in the face of that. Dib and Zim’s biggest POSITIVE shared trait is the strength of their spirits against a world that is ultimately callous and cruel at every turn to them.

Every second you write Dib where he’s wallowing in despair or feeling sorry for himself is a second you come closer to that line and it’s what you need to dish out in wary moderation.

So I guess the TL:DR of what i think I’m getting at here is… it’s all about perspective.

But I really should read more of the comics.

[wearethewinx]

I'm ngl between all the winx, I always thought Aisha would be like... more lean than muscled. It's been a while since I've actively watched winx, but her body being more built for flexibility just felt right to me- maybe because she's essentially the fairy of water??? Go with the flow, curve it all around kinda vibe you know.

.......now if anyone in the Winx is buff, it would be Flora and Bloom- Flora because I have seen gardeners and farmers in my lifetime, and their biceps were enough to make me go hoowee mama and Bloom because she hates exercise but she wants to punch her enemies in the face hard enough to permanently damage their nose (Icy).

Musa... idk, she can go either way tbh- buff, stick, lean? She's just vibing. I can't ever imagine Tecna being buff, because... well. On the other hand, her being buff doesn't feel too off to me either. Also Stella has been stuck on the idea of being attractive for years, she'll either be unhealthily thin or happily fat to me- it's the uh. ED projection.

Also ik you were pointing out the obv racism w the fandoms treatment of Aisha, making her the more buff and aggressive girl out of the winx (when uhm. I'm ngl she is Not, pls let's not forget s1-3 Bloom who had no understanding of chill, and Stella who is usually in control of herself but would beat a mf after enough transgressions), but I just wanted to give a brief thought into my own personal thoughts on which of the winx would be buff.

Agreed! I definitely see Aisha as fit but lean, very beach bunny-esque

Tbh I don't really see any of the winx being 'buff,' although I do think Bloom being pretty strong makes sense. She just has strong vibes. A couple people have mentioned buff Flora to me, but I think where I differ is that I see Flora as like... a botanist, y'know? Not a farmer/landscaper. That said, I think life on Linphea would probably still be pretty physically active, so she's not unfit either

Musa I can absolutely only imagine as a stick with boobs. I like to imagine her gaining a bit of weight as she gets healthier and gets used to having better access to food, but I genuinely find it hard to picture because she just. Has stick vibes for some reason

I have unpopular opinions on Tecna. Being from an icy planet, it makes NO sense for her to be skinny, and I hc her being into martial arts (Tecna loves punching and smashing, talk to the wall), so I draw her body very similar to mine- someone who retains both muscle and fat readily, so she's very dense and thickly built despite eating and working out fairly little

I think I've talked about this before, but for me an absolutely non-negotiable, fundamental aspect of Stella's character is that her self-esteem is genuine. That she really does love how she looks, that it's the only thing she's not insecure about. It's a HUGE part of what makes her so unique and interesting, so having her worry about her weight? Having her vanity be portrayed as self-destructive instead of self-loving? It's uh. Not my cup of tea

Happily fat Stella is the enlightened man's headcanon (despite the fact that I personally draw her as thin lol)

Thanks for the ask!!