#cant believe i wasted so much time on this but i genuinely believed it must get good at some point

[crguang]

wasted with longing, part 3

Knowing Kafka is a rollercoaster of emotions you can’t escape from no matter how much you beg to touch the ground.

friends with benefits, some domestic bliss before the storm, 6.5k words

part one part two

A/N: no smut warning woah…. actual development woahhh… cant believe i wrote this much without throwing in some sex i think i might like this criminal :/

“So… Can I come in?”

Kafka’s self-assured tone sounds lazy, indifferent to the predicament she finds herself in, and her lips are fixed in that practiced smile like she’s genuinely happy to see you despite bleeding through her shirt on your doorstep. You stare at her disheveled state, a hundred questions dancing on your tongue and unable to voice any of them. Instead, you open the front door wider and urgently usher her into your apartment with a hand wrapped around her uninjured bicep. Kafka makes a sound of surprise, though it fails to convey any. She lets herself be moved and quietly walks further inside your place. 

“What happened?” The door shuts behind you, but you’re already leading her down the hallway towards your small bathroom. “Where do you even come from?!”

Your words quaver more than you would like as you flip the switch and motion for her to sit on the toilet seat. You can feel her eyes on you while you messily rummage through the cupboards beneath the sink, pushing old medicine bottles aside and cleaning products out of the way. The weight in your stomach grows heavier the longer you search for your first-aid kit, shutting the wooden cupboards and throwing open the one behind the mirror desperately. Apart from prescribed and over the counter medication, you find nothing that would be of help at this moment.

“Where is it?… Fuck, where is it?!” You lay your palms flat on the counter, head dropping low to think. 

“Calm down,” Kafka says calmly, a slightly amused lilt in her voice, “I’m not going to die.”

You ignore her horrible attempt at reassuring you and try to recall when was the last time you used the bandages in the kit. You cut yourself cooking some weeks ago but you remember going to the bathroom to fish them out… It has to be around here somewhere. You bite your bottom lip anxiously, your pulse in your ears like an oppressive presence, and force yourself to take in a breath so you don’t succumb to your panic. If it’s not in this room, it must be laying in your storage closet. You spare the other woman a glance to find her already looking at you, obediently silent. She doesn’t seem to be in any pain but you know it’s a facade, you’re only taken aback by how easy it is for her to pretend that nothing is amiss. You straighten up, run a hand over your face to clear your head and order her not to move before walking out to find the aforementioned closet.

You make an even bigger mess of your storage closet as you search for the med kit, lifting boxes you don’t recognize and throwing plastic bags full of random trinkets out in the hallway. Your heart is in your throat, you can feel your eyes sting with the familiar weight of unshed tears, but you can’t stop looking. The thought of Kafka bleeding out before anything is done appears in your distressed mind and worsens your anxiety despite the probability of it happening being low. If this wound turns out to be something you can’t stabilize on your own, you’ll call the emergency services. You push aside a basket filled with yarn, letting  out a shuddering breath at the sight of a clear case with a red cross on it. You waste no time grabbing it and heading for the bathroom, not bothering to close the closet door. When you walk back in, Kafka has managed to take off her bloody shirt and is facing the mirror over the sink, a hand still applying firm pressure on her shoulder. She turns your way to acknowledge you and takes a peek at the box in your hands. 

“What are you doing? Sit down,” you swallow the lump in your throat so you don’t sound as strained. 

Putting the kit on the counter and lifting the lid, you take out a few non-stick bandages. From your peripheral vision, you see Kafka complying with your shaky command and suppressing a chuckle. She hasn’t said much so far, which is uncharacteristic of her quick witted nature. You pick up a clean face towel from one of the shelves in the corner and rinse it with warm water. You step in front of her and gesture to the wound.

“Let me clean it.”

Once again, Kafka doesn’t protest. Her guarded gaze is on you, following every twitch of your brows and inaudible intake of breath, almost sizing you up as you lean in close to treat her wound. Her small smile is frozen on her face, and you can’t tell what it’s meant to convey anymore. She carefully takes her hand off her shoulder. The small puncture wound leaves a bloody trail down her skin, but even you can tell that it’s no longer bleeding profusely; the worries filling your head shrink and finally allow you to think more rationally. You bring the wet towel to her skin. You’re more meticulous with your hands than you thought you could be, softly washing away the specks of dried blood on her shoulder and around the injury. At this distance you see faint bluish veins that you had no reason to notice before, they slither down her neck and fade away above her collarbone. You wipe the deep red from her usually flawless skin, brushing over it with a mindfulness opposite from the lustful touches you’re accustomed to; your sole intention is to soothe her pain instead of taking pleasure from her. You are suddenly aware of her proximity in this unfamiliar context. She sits close without the headiness of sex, quiet and alert, and you can feel the warmth of her body from where you stand, your head is bowed and one of her thighs rests between yours. 

Kafka looks up at you through her lashes but you have no way of understanding the light behind her eyes. You think perhaps all of her strength goes to withstand the pain she’s in. You still feel your beating heart against your ribcage, its erratic pace gently growing steady, while her chest rises and falls easily. Your breaths fill the silence around you. As the cloth delicately clears away the blood, you sneak a glance at her and your eyes meet. Your hand falters on her skin. Her rosy-lilac irises speak of tenderness that does not fit her, like a deceiving front to conceal her emotional distance. You see them but there is nothing beyond them, nothing that she allows you to glimpse at. Even so, you’re privy to a side of her you don’t yet know. There’s still traces of blood on her cheek she meant to wipe off before seeing you, and without thinking, you lift the towel higher to clean it off with a few smooth strokes. Kafka blinks once and you do the same rapidly, sharply turning away from her piercing stare to finish dressing her wound. In the stillness of your home, new truths are unknowingly written. 

To stop the bleeding and prevent infections, you take out square non-adhesive bandages and peel one of them off. She’ll have to see an actual doctor for treatment, but you realize that the situation is not as bad as you initially thought. The sight of her bloody shirt and glove terrified you at first glance; you slowly realize that all of it must not have been hers. Unease settles in your stomach a second time. What could she possibly be implicated in to show up at your door with an injury like this?

“Why’d you come here?” You ask softly now that the worst has passed, eyes focused on carefully applying the bandage to her skin. “Why didn’t you go to the hospital for this?” 

“Wasn’t serious enough,” Kafka replies nonchalantly. She gazes at your furrowing brows and incredulous expression like she’s been doing since you opened the door. She doesn’t answer the first question.

“Serious enough? Your shirt is dyed red. How’d you even get this?”

“It’s just a gunshot wound. A little Band-Aid should fix me right up.”

“What the fuck?!”

In your loud disbelief your fingers press into the small hole in her shoulder and Kafka winces, clenching her jaw tightly. You quickly withdraw your hand. The bandage is halfway peeling off from her skin and she brings a gloved hand up to properly apply it herself. 

You step back from her frame, lips parted in incredulity. “You got shot?”

Kafka uses her free hand to peel off the second bandage and apply it over the first one, not looking at you as she does so. “Relax, the bullet didn’t go all the way in and I already took it out. It’s a minor scrape now.”

“You got shot?”

“Ugh, not so loud… I’ve had a long day.”

“You need to see a doctor. Are you insane?”

She raises her head towards you. “I don’t need a doctor, just a place to stay until tomorrow.”

You swallow thickly, lifting a hand to your hairline and pacing back and forth in the enclosed space. You can’t believe what she’s saying. No normal person just gets shot on a random Thursday and acts so nonchalant about it— having seen the proof of it, your mind is reeling with questions you’re not sure you want the answers to. Kafka has always had an air of mystery around her and the kind of confidence that makes you think that she’s invincible. Looking at her now, sitting in your bathroom after you tended to her wound and seemingly unbothered by the favor she’s asking of you, your chest constricts with a foreboding feeling you can’t name. Your gaze drops to her discarded shirt on the floor. You want to ask her what she’s done, whose blood is on her clothes, but your throat tightens as if begging you to keep your mouth shut. Kafka watches the emotions play out on your face and speaks up again.

“You stayed home.”

It takes a few seconds to meet her eyes, your reply agitated, “What?”

“Last time we talked, I told you not to go to work today. Despite your lack of trust in me, you stayed home. Why?”

She seems to be genuinely wondering why, but you don’t have an answer to give her. You don’t know. There was something about the seriousness with which she suggested you call out of work that made you uneasy come this morning, all traces of her usual aloofness were gone, even if she meant for her delivery to be casual so as to not rouse any suspicions. It was a split decision, you picked up your phone and called in sick before fully understanding the implications of your actions. You trusted your gut, not her. 

“Something came up,” you lie instead and confront her, “You knew something was going to happen today— or planned to come by, that’s why you wanted me here, right? You know I get off work at 7 and I wouldn't have been home.”

Kafka gives nothing away but you know she doesn’t believe your white lie. If she feels anything about this show of distrust, she keeps her cards close to her chest. She shrugs with her uninjured shoulder.

“Maybe I just missed you.”

There it is, that flirty, teasing expression you’re used to seeing on her face. She’s deflecting and is for once doing a terrible job at it. She won’t tell you the truth, you know that much. Irritation burns the walls of your throat. In a way, you’re both lying to each other so you shouldn’t expect something you yourself are not ready to give her; then again, she’s the one who showed up at your door with a swelling injury and she has the guts to ask you to stay overnight while blatantly ignoring your attempts at finding out the circumstances of her situation. You don’t react to her taunt, you only cross your arms and stare at her, unamused. Your heartbeat has picked up several paces and you’re uncomfortable with the awareness of it drumming inside you. Kafka sighs in faux-exasperation. 

“It’s only for tonight. I’ll be gone in the morning.” When you don’t reply, she hesitantly adds, “Please.”

You’re torn, her stubbornness will keep her from seeking a medical expert and you have no idea what she did to get it in the first place. Either way, she’s putting herself in danger, and if you let her stay for a while at least you can make sure she doesn’t worsen her condition before her wound stops bleeding completely… You run a hand over your face. Might as well make dinner for two. 

Kafka’s in the shower and you’re chopping the vegetables you bought earlier this afternoon, your mind a few miles away as you move efficiently around the kitchen. You told her that if she was going to sleep over, she should change into more comfortable clothes. Weirdly, she didn’t make any lewd comments and simply accepted the oversized shirt and plaid pyjama pants you gave her before walking out of the bathroom.. She must have a lot on her mind too, you suppose. Maybe she’ll be more inclined to share a little later. The pasta is currently boiling so you get started on the sauce, letting it simmer on the stove while you take care of the veggies you’ll be steaming to eat as a side. The running water quickly becomes background noise while you busy yourself, a sound you’re not very used to hearing when you’re not the one showering, but the pitter-patter relaxes you a touch. You’re no longer on the edge of an anxiety attack, though worry still resides in the depths of your heart considering the situation you find yourself in. You try to focus on the dinner you’re cooking instead of the bloodstained memory of Kafka’s clothes. They’re in the washing machine now, but you remember how soaked they were vividly, crimson and haunting. You instantly thought the worst, and when suddenly confronted with the prospect of losing her, you panicked. Anyone would have reacted the same in the face of a bleeding person, you tell yourself, but you can’t deny that the thought deeply unnerves you. 

You don’t register the sound of the water being turned off. You stir the rosé sauce and lower the heat under the vegetables, then incorporate the pasta into the creamy goodness. The smell of freshly cooked pasta fills your nose and reminds you of how little you ate today. You take out two plates from a cabinet and pour a generous serving in each one, adding a little more vegetables for yourself. You’re gently laying them on the kitchen island in the middle of the room when Kafka walks in with her hair still damp from the shower. Her face is bare, her long locks loose past her shoulders, and she’s wearing the clothes you lent her. The shirt hangs around her thighs over the cotton pants, big enough to be cozy on her. She looks… mundane, more refreshed than an hour ago. In such plain attire, she doesn’t seem as enigmatic or intimidating, but rather like your average citizen. It’s a harsh contrast to the way she presents herself and the cocky, in control woman you usually see. She strides into the kitchen and leans on the island to glimpse at the food you made. You don’t realize that you’re staring until she looks at you and raises an eyebrow, a small confident smile on her lips.

“See something you like?”

You avert your gaze and turn around to take out the parmesan from the fridge. Your skin warms up from the embarrassment of getting caught, but you manage to hide your flustered expression from her sight. Your stomach buzzes with a feeling you attribute to bashfulness. This is yet another side of Kafka you’re discovering, she’s never stayed until morning light before. You’ve long exceeded the limits of what you’re familiar with tonight, the feeling is the same as the night you undressed her for the time; excitement and nervousness swirled in your belly, each caress revealing inches of unexplored skin to your eager touch. You face her again and find that in this moment, you feel no disquiet. 

“Is that for me?” Kafka sits on the stool across from you and points to one of the plates. 

You grate some parmesan on top of the pasta before pushing the portion towards her. She stares at it for a few seconds then lifts her questioning eyes to yours. She seems to hesitate for the time it takes you to pull out a fork from a drawer and give it to her, but she eventually thanks you quietly. She means it for more than dinner. You nod once in acknowledgement. 

You take a seat on the stool next to her and glance at the way she turns the fork over in her hand, looking at the food in search of answers instead of eating it. For a couple minutes there’s only the sound of metal on ceramic as you eat while Kafka is lost in thought, absentmindedly picking at her vegetables. After swallowing another bite, you decide that you’re sick of the awkward silence. 

“You don’t eat pasta?”

Kafka blinks. In an instant, her cryptic smile stretches her lips and she stabs some pasta onto her fork, sticking it into her mouth. Her face lights up after the first chew. “Mmm. Never had a home cooked meal that actually tastes like food.”

“Really?”

“I’m not much of a cook.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She purses her lips, silverware hovering in the air, though she’s not offended. 

“I just can’t picture you wearing an apron.”

“That’s because you usually picture me wearing nothing.”

You make a face but don’t refute her point, to which Kafka’s smile widens an inch. You stuff food into your mouth to give you time to think of a reply. She watches you with an amused look, leaning her chin in her hand.

“Not even a little protest…”

“Oh, shut up,” you shot back indignantly, “should’ve dropped the bottle of hot sauce on your plate…”

Kafka’s deep chuckle compels you to look at your dinner instead of her. “Makes no difference to me. My pain tolerance is pretty high, it might make the flavors pop out a bit more.”

You’re reminded of how easily she kept her composure earlier, as if getting shot at is a regular occurrence for her. Flashes of her bleeding shoulder come back to your mind and you quiet down a bit, poking a broccoli with the tip of your fork. Kafka immediately senses the shift in your mood. She pauses, watches you toy with the vegetable for a short moment, then twirls her own fork in her hand.

“Don’t worry,” she reads your mind effortlessly, “a scrape like that will heal in no time and will barely leave a scar. Besides, you won’t care much for it the next time I’m undressing in front of you.”

You roll your eyes at the innuendo but it successfully brings you out of your thoughts for the time being. You lightly shake your head.

“Is sex the only thing on your mind?”

“Not the only thing…” she drawls, but the way her gaze drops to your chest and leisurely trails up to stare into your eyes, the beginnings of a smirk on her lips, suggests otherwise. She rhythmically taps the island’s surface with a finger. 

“...Just eat your food.”

Kafka laughs softly and complies. You’re thankful for her restraint to make a dirty joke. As you both eat, the atmosphere around you shifts into a comfortable space you don’t feel the need to fill with mundanities. Still, you end up telling her about yourself after some prompting, about your friends, how it felt to move away from your parents and get your own place— even the doubts about your career and how you don’t think it’s something you want to do anymore. Kafka watches you all the while, her cheek in her palm, and comments on certain things but mostly keeps quiet. You don’t realize how much you’ve confided because she’s surprisingly an excellent listener and you get a little high from her undivided attention. Your almost empty plates lie forgotten on the kitchen island. You turn on the stool to face her fully at some point, your knees brushing her thigh, and the casual, innocent contact makes your heart race. Her presence is just as exciting outside of the context of a hookup, your pulse creates a melody for this moment. Unbeknown to you, you've already made up your mind; she looks prettier under the kitchen lights at night. 

“You should quit,” Kafka repeats the advice she told you days ago, following the movement of your head as it tips backwards in exasperation. “You can make money doing anything, you might as well enjoy what you do.”

“It’s not that simple,” you argue, “my life is stable as is. I don’t even know what I want— it would be so irresponsible to drop everything just because I’m not fully satisfied with how things are now.”

“Then find out what you want and execute it.”

You sigh loudly, leaning on the island to rest your forehead on your arm. She makes it sound easy but quitting your research job in an engineering department might damage the fragments of relationship you have with your parents. You only see them a couple times a year, sometimes for a week during the summer, but they make sure to let you know how proud they are that the money they invested in you is paying off. You know they can’t control you anymore and yet, the guilt of them struggling to put you through school is ingrained in your gray matter. Despite the heavy weight they constantly put on your shoulders, you truly do want to please them. You moved to another corner of the world and can still hear your mother’s disapproving voice in your ears. 

“I wish I knew if whatever I end up doing is the right choice,” you mutter, laying your chin on your forearm and staring straight ahead. “It’d be nice to know how this all ends.”

Kafka doesn’t respond immediately. She ponders for a while, fingers drumming on the stainless steel. 

“Mmm. There’s more joy to be found in the unknown, I think,” she says after a pause. “More excitement.”

“More anxiety too.”

“They often come together, don’t they? Both make you feel alive, having one without the other might breed a certain… emptiness.”

You furrow your brows. “You’ve clearly never felt anxious.”

Kafka only smiles softly. “In any case, you can’t live your life fulfilling other people’s wishes. I’ve never found selfishness to be ugly.”

Once the plates and pans are washed half an hour later, you stop by the bedroom to pick up a blanket and a pillow for Kafka to sleep with. You walk back into the living room, items under your arms, to see her sitting cross-legged on the couch, TV remote in hand. The screen is bright in the dim light and illuminates the room around it, painting moving shadows on the walls. You put the pillow down on the armrest with the folded blanket over it. Kafka is scrolling through your streaming applications and stops to acknowledge you. 

“Want to watch something?” She asks. “I don’t remember the last time I sat down for a full movie.”

The invitation is so ordinary that you hesitate for a few seconds. Watching a movie after cooking her dinner…? A corner of your mind is screaming that this sounds like a casual date but you quickly shake that thought away for its absurdity. She needed a place to stay for the night, that’s all. Once again, she’s more using you than anything else, you’re a safe place to come to because you have trouble refusing her. You prove your own theory right by accepting her offer and closing the hallway and kitchen lights before taking a seat next to her, putting a reasonable distance between you. You fold your legs on the couch and lay a forearm on the armrest as Kafka continues to scroll through the different apps. She lets out comments like “sounds boring” and “ugh” after skipping certain movies. She’s mostly talking under her breath, eyes fixed on the TV screen. The blue light applies a similar hue to her skin tone and adds vitality to her irises, they appear more vivid and alert. The sharp shadows in her hair are even darker against such a vibrant source of light and the sight of her brings to mind a beautifully composed photograph. You take a mental picture of her like this, in sleepwear with her hair free of the ponytail she puts it in every day, staring intently at the screen like a kid who’s been allowed to stay up past her bedtime. 

“What about a horror movie?” You propose, taking your eyes off her frame to look at the TV.

“No. They’re never scary. This one looks less mediocre than the others.”

You read the synopsis of a psychological thriller together. The movie doesn’t particularly speak to you but you tell her it seems nice anyway. You’re not surprised to learn that she enjoys mind games. Kafka adjusts her position on the couch so that she’s mimicking your own and presses play, leaning an elbow on the armrest to rest her cheek on top of her fist. You try to focus on the movie, the pacing is too slow to catch your tired mind’s attention for more than ten minutes at a time, and an hour passes with you sneaking glimpses at the woman next to you from your peripheral vision. She’s not close enough that you can feel her warmth like you could in the bathroom earlier, but the air around you feels the same; a sort of domestic intimacy that has no place between the two of you because you can’t imagine meaning that much to someone like her. You can’t snuff it out, no matter how many times you tell yourself to look at the scene in front of you. Since she’s waltzed into your kitchen hours ago, you can’t help noticing habits that give you the false impression that you know her. Her fingers twitch when she’s lost in thought, they typically drum on whatever surface she can get her hands on or subtly move in the air like she’s conducting a symphony. She eats her vegetables last. She doesn’t shy away from eye contact when you speak. These little things don’t make up a person, and yet, for someone who doesn’t reveal much of herself, they’re quirks that few get to see. 

Kafka is watching the movie with an unimpressed expression, which has you suppressing a smile. Occasionally, she comments on whatever is happening—mostly complaints about the direction the movie is going or how much better it would be if the human responses were more realistic. You simply nod along, already somewhat dozing off near the climax of the story. The aftermath of your anxious evening is catching up with you and you’re in a comfortable enough position at the moment, it doesn’t take long for fatigue to descend on your body. Your eyelids can’t bear their own weight and you rest your eyes for a couple of minutes, leaning your head on the armrest. You don’t witness how the movie ends. You’re falling asleep on the couch, the TV acting like background noise, and you forget that this is where Kafka is supposed to sleep. You don’t register soft fabric being laid over you, only catch sweet notes of vanilla belonging to the soap you use in the shower.

A sore ache in your neck pulls you out of a dream whose contents now elude you. Your brows twist indignantly, a muted groan vibrates along your throat, and you drowsily turn over on the couch to face the back cushions. You hear the bathroom door open and close, which eventually reminds you that you’re not alone in the house. Your eyes slowly blink open at the thought, momentarily blinded by the living room’s semi-darkness. It takes a minute to regain your bearings, you turn over a second time and notice soft threads of morning light seeping through the cracks of the closed blinds. It must be a new day already, though not very early based on how gloomy it still is outside. You have the reflex to check your phone for the time and realize that you don’t remember its last location. The cozy blanket falls to your lap when you sit up to look around the room. You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you recall the events of last night; Himeko calling, opening the door to a disheveled Kafka, rushing her to the bathroom for basic treatment… In between two of those, you must have discarded your phone somewhere here out of panic and didn’t touch it once afterwards, too preoccupied by the dizzying sensation of finally seeing past Kafka’s usual demeanor. Pulling the blanket off of you, you quickly scan the coffee table and check the couch cushions in case you threw the device on it yesterday and it fell through the cracks. Your fingertips touch the silicone of your phone case deep between the cracks of back pillows. You only struggle to pull it out for a few seconds, sighing in relief when you have it back in your hands, Tapping open the screen, you learn that it is currently a little past 5 in the morning and curse under your breath at the reminder of work in a couple of hours after spending the night on your couch. You scroll down the notification screen to see if you got any last night.

You’re confused at the amount of text messages you didn’t receive due to your phone being on silent. You blink rapidly at the dozens of concerned texts wondering how you are coming from your friends and some coworkers you get along with. You got a message from Himeko right after you hung up on her, but it’s just three question marks in succession so you make a mental note to call her back this evening. Opening the multiple texts a coworker sent you, you don’t comprehend them immediately. Your thumb hovers over the screen as you read the words “Stellaron Hunters” and “infiltrated”, and in a moment of denial, you exit the conversation to open another from a friend repeatedly asking if you’re safe. They sent an article attached to the first message; it’s a publication dating from around 6 PM last night posted by an IPC affiliated news company popular in the city. You don’t feel the instant your chest stutters at its contents. Unblinking, you stare at the urgent sentences reporting an incursion in the building you’ve worked in for years by a group of people you’ve only vaguely heard of from gossip around the office. The Stellaron Hunters, interstellar criminals notorious for their worth in credits, had the means to break into the mechanical engineering research lab of the Intelligentsia Guild with the goal of stealing hardware for a machine you remember personally working on about 8 months ago. You were part of the team of researchers assigned to this project to make sure it was a viable one before it could be produced. Once the green light is given, it gets sent to the lab and is out of your hands. You recall doing extensive research for it in a small time frame because it was a priority for your supervisors to start working on it as soon as possible. Now, the key component was the target of a larceny. 

As you read, the world outside of the screen and the muffling in your ears disappears. Your digit quivers over the words “multiple casualties”. Most of them are security guards who attempted to stop the thieves in action, but some of the engineers you once met in person have also been stated as losses. Your eyes sting from being kept open for longer than a minute, you can’t hear the trembling breaths clumsily tripping past your lips either. The death toll is 19 human lives— all for a piece of hardware. Your collar seemingly constricts your throat, choking you silent. You are trapped by sudden guilt, it teasingly snakes around your guts and squeezes them tight like tentacles around an easy prey. What-ifs rush at you as if mocking your cowardice; what if you hadn't worked on this project and hadn’t allowed it to see the day, what if you switched careers like you’ve been wanting to for a long time… You don’t look at your hands but your mind supplies the image of them dipped in blood regardless. The white page of the article burns your retinas, yet you scroll further down to read the end of it. The IPC has taken matters into their own hands and sent out forces to apprehend the culprits while they still hide in the city, which does nothing to alleviate your distress because the Stellaron Hunters wouldn’t have earned a reputation if they were so easily caught. You dread the idea of facing your coworkers again after such a tragic event, even more so the simple thought of walking back into that building knowing what transpired there. You finally squeeze your eyes shut with a shaky exhale, trying not to picture red stained floors and mechanical equipment. When you open them again, the attached pictures at the end of the publication freezes the blood in your veins.

This is your first time associating faces to the group of criminals who are only ever mentioned by their faction name. The phone screen turns dark from inactivity but the wanted poster is seared into the walls of your occipital lobe, creating a reality-perfect image of the woman’s enigmatic smile and unmistakable rosy irises. Your reflection stares back at you, expressing consternation, and in the same instant, the bathroom door opens again. Heeled footsteps make their way down the hallway like a foreboding rhythm, clacking across the wooden tiles on a mission to reach the front door. The weight on your chest grows heavier once they’re close, and they eventually come to a stop behind the couch you’re sitting on. Your fingers tremble at the sound of her voice near your ears. 

“You’re awake.”

It hits you, then. What happened last night, how Kafka received that gunshot wound, her advice from earlier this week—- it was a warning rolled in a layer of passivity, a peculiar request she couldn’t tell you the extent of without revealing her hand. If you had gone to work yesterday, one of the casualties could have been you. Her and the Stellaron Hunters must have been planning this for a while, perhaps weeks or months. You feel as though you’ve fallen in the ocean from a great height in the middle of the night, an icy wave of hurt clogs your ears and has you succumbing under the tumultuous waters. 

Kafka tilts her head to the side and makes a teasing remark about you not being fully up and about, rounding the couch to wave a gloved hand in front of your face. Your head mechanically turns to look up at her. She’s dressed in the clothes she wore yesterday that she put in the dryer as you were washing the dishes. Her hair is in its everyday loose ponytail, aside from the sunglasses over her head and down to her asymmetrical boots, she’s ready to go. Her coat is on, leading you to believe that she planned to slip away while you were still asleep. Kafka observes the brewing emotions on your face and the heavy rise of your chest, then takes a quick glance at the phone still in your hands. Her relaxed smile drops an inch. You stare at each other for a moment and she doesn’t say another word during that time, reading you through the purse of your lips and the contempt in your eyes. After a minute of quiet, she lazily crosses her arms under her breasts. 

“You don’t seem scared,” she says without breaking eye contact, like she’s close to figuring you out but is missing an important variable.

You don’t dwell on the fact that you are indeed not afraid of her or what she’s capable of, mainly wounded by the amount of stuff she’s kept from you. If you knew who she was back in that store, you would have never let her approach you no matter how intriguing she looked. It’s as you think this that you realize something else; her efforts in pursuing you coincide with the time you had just finished working on that major project and you can’t help thinking that all of it might have been premeditated. Your stomach churns. 

You manage to find your voice, swallowing once to wet your dry throat. “Were you never going to tell me?” Your sentence comes out weaker than it should have, bordering on pathetic affront.

“No.”

Her honesty gives you whiplash. For all she’s lied about and omitted, she chooses to be honest when it hurts the most. 

“It was always going to play out like this,” she continues, “some things are inevitable and all possibilities are already written. This way is less gruesome than the others, don’t you think?”

“What does that mean?”

Kafka smiles with her eyes closed but instead of a comfortable familiarity, it raises the hair on your arms. 

“Well, I’m happy to know that you heeded my advice. I even looked for you and got hurt in the process. Quite chivalrous of me, isn’t it?”

Her lighthearted comment sounds like it’s meant to assuage the maelstrom of feelings mounting inside of you. It is so ridiculous, so devoid of genuine meaning, that it only stokes the burning embers under your skin. You struggle to contain your outrage, the sight of her pleased smile and indifferent posture has your fingers curl into a fist.

“Aw, don’t make that face,” Kafka uncrosses her arms and pulls at the ends of one glove so it fits snuggly on her hand, “this is the best possible outcome. I made sure of it.”

“Out.” You’re surprised the word made it out of your clenched jaw, and by its frigidity. She looks you over and even after everything, you notice the slight dip of her lips. You repeat yourself. “Get out.”

“Still upset?”

“Leave, or I will tell the authorities where you are.”

In a flash, a light glimmers in Kafka’s eyes and her features twist with amusement. “Really? You’d be accused of complicity.”

You know that. Your anger is impulsive and a darker part of you wishes to cause her turmoil like the one she’s putting you through. Kafka watches you closely. Her attention doesn’t fluster you anymore. She finds whatever answer she’s seeking in the determined stare you’re giving her. 

“Gutsy…” Her muttered reply is more directed at herself but betrays her attraction. Her eyelids drop as she glances at your lips, then she meets your gaze with a fake sigh. “Oh, fine. I’ll see you later, then.”

“No—”

Kafka lifts a hand up to wave at you cheekily and is outside the door before you can tell her that you don’t want to see her again.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Herbert West

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

“Oh, Herbert, this is-”

“Y/n. …Yes I know.” The man interrupted, prompting your awkward smile to drop momentarily. Herbert was an …interesting character, to say the least. 

- You met the re-animator through Dan who’d been a friend of yours since you joined the school. Dan had sort of taken you under his wing after you first met, becoming like an older brother to you. You; being a year younger than him and away from home for the first time, were very happy to have someone looking out for you. 

- Obviously, Dan was a pretty big part of your life and you were a pretty big part of his life as well. Because of this, Herbert most likely heard of or had; at the very least, seen photos of you prior to your meeting which is why he didn’t need an introduction. 

- At first, Herbert finds you; like pretty much everyone else, dreadfully irritating. He’s very short and stand offish with you, only calling you miss y/l/n or a harsh sounding y/n. But that all changes when you’re finally able to speak with him alone. 

- You’d stopped by Dan’s apartment one day, only to find that the only one home was Herbert who seemed very ready to close the door on you after informing you that Dan was out with Megan. You said the magic words before he was able to. 

“Herbert? I haven’t really been able to speak with you until now but I just wanted to say that I’m a huge fan of your work,” Bingo. “Or, rather, your theories. Dan's told me about a few of them and I find them very fascinating and well, um-”

“Why don’t you come inside Y/n?” Herbert says, a small smile on his face, one without any hidden boredom behind it. 

- Prior to that, you’d never heard him speak your name without a touch of irritation to it so you were eager to do whatever you could to remain in his good graces. 

- When Megan and Dan arrive back at the apartment, they’re surprised to see you and Herbert sitting in the living room and talking, or more accurately, surprised to see Herbert talking to you rather passionately about life and death.

- Dan gives you an odd look as you greet them and say how you should probably get going, the look only grows more confused as Herbert says goodbye with a seemingly rather genuine smile on his face. He doesn’t know what happened but he isn’t sure he likes it. 

- From then on, Dan watches suspiciously as Herbert seems to grow more and more fond of you. He grows to somewhat dislike Herbert's sudden interest in you, especially after he finds out what the man does in his spare time and is propositioned by him. He fears that he’s trying to manipulate you into helping him. 

- But that isn’t the case. No, Herbert just likes having you stroke his ego and listen to him talk about his work like he’s gods gift to earth and to you, he is. 

- You thought Herbert was attractive the moment you met him, regardless of his somewhat odd and standoffish behavior. When he starts letting you into his life, your crush on him only worsens until you’re pretty much head over heels in love. So you sort of follow him around like a lost puppy and while he generally dislikes having people bother him, you become a bit of an exception. 

- Over time, Herbert genuinely begins to like you, and he certainly cant deny that you’re attractive. He has a very scientific way of understanding his feelings for you, refusing to believe that love is a thing or admit that he actually has romantic feelings for you. 

- He reasons that his body thinks you’re a suitable mate and that's why he cant stop thinking about you. He allows himself to lower his ego and believe that he’s not above his animalistic urges, if only to refuse that he actually loves you. 

- Herbert doesn’t think of himself as one for relationships but seemingly against his own will, he yearns for one with you. So after a few days of avoiding you in an attempt to see if his feelings will fade away, he pulls you into his life once and for all, intending to never let you go. 

- After things had been going so well, the sudden cold shoulder from the scientist had bothered you, so when he calls you on the phone and asks you to come by the apartment, you jump at the invitation, happy that things are back to the way they were. 

- When you arrive, he leads you into the basement and sits you down, telling you to watch as he injects his reagent into one of his specimens. He watches the way you react, his body nearly pressed against your back as you stare in awe at the creature before you.

- If anyone were to walk in, they would see far more than just a man showing a friend his morbid creation. The expression on his face would say everything. To him, this is one of the most intimate things he can do. To introduce you to his work, to trust you with his findings, to explain to you how it works. 

- When Dan returns home, he finds you sitting side by side in the basement, Herbert's notes and reagent sprawled out before you. A wave of discomfort rolls through him as he asks what's going on. Herbert merely says “she knows” with a small smile playing at his lips, his eyes moving to the side of your face with a look of subtle adoration. 

- From then on, you’re involved in practically everything, even if Dan isn’t pleased with it. Your relationship with Herbert evolves very quickly, he’s not one for patience. 

- He doesn’t verbally confess his feelings for you, not at first. Instead, he lets the tension grow between you until he’s pushing you back against his desk and kissing the life out of you. 

- There’s very few times where Herbert truly loses his calm and collected composure and this is one of them, his mouth moving feverishly against yours, hands wandering, breathing shallow. 

- The two of you say nothing as you part, he goes back to work and a while later you go home, a million thoughts racing through your head and your heart still beating quicker than normal.

- A few more kisses like that and the two of you wind up in bed together. By the time you’re finished, its the middle of the night. You know you should probably go home but you don’t think he’d let you with the way his arms are wrapped so tightly around you. 

- You try to move and his arms tighten even further, pulling you back against him even closer. The message reads loud and clear; you’re his now and you aren’t going anywhere. 

- Your relationship won’t be conventional, you knew that from the start. Nothing Herbert does is very conventional and that's something you’ve learned to accept. But for better or for worse, you’re together and there’s no signs of you ever parting. 

- There’s two sides of Herbert out in public. There’s the Herbert who doesn't touch you at all, acting somewhat distant because he wants to remain professional. And then there’s the Herbert who never lets go of you, remaining close at all times and holding you in some way, shape or form. 

- He’s pretty much touchy with you at all times, unless you’re in front of someone he feels he must put on airs for. Anywhere else or in front of anyone else and his hands or some part of him never leaves you. 

- Deep kisses. Herbert..., how should I put this, devours you?  He’s always got this tight hold on you like he’s scared you’ll part from him as he steals your breath away. 

- Distracted pecks on the lips as you go to leave the room while he’s working. 

- He finds it sort of amusing to startle you which he oftentimes does so without even meaning to. He’s fairly quiet so you usually don’t hear him enter the room, you only realize he’s there when you turn and nearly have a heart attack upon finding him suddenly standing near you. He’ll usually try to hide his smirk but occasionally your reaction will earn a laugh. 

- Beware the flattery. If he’s complimenting you more than once in the span of a minute, he most likely wants something. 

- Trying to get him to take a break and/or actually go to sleep. He gets really wrapped up in his work and won’t go to bed for literal days so occasionally you’ll just have to drag him away against his will. 

- As much as he tries to avoid sleep, he’ll still have to at some point. When he does go to bed, he likes being the big spoon and holding you tightly against him. 

- Sometimes he legitimately cradles you or a part of you against him, especially when you're scared or upset. He’ll usually either hold your head in his lap or quite literally wrap himself around you, speaking to you almost uncharacteristically sweetly. 

- He’s somewhat touch starved. He’s never really bothered to find himself a girlfriend, thinking of them as pointless distractions, but now that he has one, he can’t help but admit that it does feel good to be touched and loved, particularly by you. 

- Occasionally, he’ll have you sit on his lap as he records his data or let you write down what he says, leaning his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist. 

-  He doesn't use nicknames very often but occasionally he’ll let slip a “dear” or “darling”. Honey, sweetheart; generic little things that come naturally out of a persons mouth when they’re in love. 

- Tight hugs while he speaks softly in your ear. 

- Cheek kisses. 

- Making sure he actually eats and doesn't waste away in the basement. You’ll bring him down some food if he doesn’t want to leave his things, it’s one of the rare times that you get a very earnest, pleasantly surprised yet still a little distracted thank you. 

- Occasionally keeping him company down in the basement. You’ll go to leave after you do what you needed to do and he’ll call your name and say; almost shyly, “Why don't you stay? Sit down here. Keep me company”. He’ll usually let out a little laugh as well, trying to ease his feelings of awkward vulnerability. 

- You're really not sure if he owns anything besides a suit. You legitimately think the only comfy thing he owns is a sweater you got for him on his birthday. 

- Speaking of birthdays, he doesn't like celebrating his; mainly because he’s never really had someone to celebrate it with. He accepts your gifts almost like he isn't sure what he should say or do, usually replying with an “oh... thank you.” and a quick kiss to the cheek. 

- He’s not fond of parties or social gatherings but he will go with you, mainly just to be your date and make sure you’re alright. That and he thinks your coworker has a thing for you which he is not happy about it.

- Your friends and family are most likely going to find him strange, though I think your mother or grandmother would probably fall for his carefully constructed charm and like him a lot. He isn’t ashamed to say that he’s fond of her as well, occasionally asking about her and getting a genuine smile on his face whenever he sees her. 

- He may or may not constantly forget your anniversary, not because your relationship doesn't matter to him but because he’s Herbert and he doesn’t understand the intricacies of dating. 

- Your pets don't like him and he’s not very fond of them ether. He stiffens when they enter the room and they leave once they see him. You find it almost amusing. On the other hand, they could also never leave him the fuck alone, absolutely adoring him while he tolerates them for your sake. 

- Sarcasm and snide retorts. That’s literally just how Herbert talks so don’t take offense.

- Stopping Dan from trying to kill him whenever your boyfriend turns into an asshole and starts trouble.

- He definitely likes ordering you around a little. He’s sort of a wimpy guy so being in control of things is like a drug to him.

- Letting him ramble on about his work and accomplishments. You think he likes to hear himself speak. 

- He’s not much of a small talker. Unless the conversation is about something actually meaningful or science; specifically his science, he isn't all that interested in it. Meaningless talk annoys him and he’s got more important things to do than exchange pleasantries.

- He’s not a very heavy set boy so you could pull him away from his work if you really wanted to, though I suggest you don't. You don’t want to get between him and his work.

- Being roped into his plans and work. He always manages to get you to help, even if you really don’t want to.

- I never said Herbert was nice, did I? Well, he isn’t; not completely at least. He’s oftentimes selfish and will do whatever it takes to persuade you to do something or change your mind about something. He’s a master manipulator first and loving boyfriend second.

- Bandaging him up when his work gets …rough.

- Trying to comfort him when things don't work out. He never wants to accept that its his fault so you just agree with what he says and pull him away from his work. 

- Feeling bad for laughing at his somewhat morbid humor. 

- Apprehensively helping him inject himself with reagent, only because you know he’ll do it anyways. He’s a stubborn bastard, all you can do is try to ween him off of it. 

- He’s a scientist who works with the dead and get’s covered with blood daily, your period isn’t going to gross him out in any way. Tell him you have cramps, he’ll give you advice. Felling emotional, he’ll be a little more caring than usually. Want to cuddle, he really wants to work but seeing you desperate to hold him is worth leaving it momentarily.  

- You’ll leave something of yours in his room and he’ll tell you that he put it in his bottom drawer. When you open the drawer, you’ll find that it’s empty besides the thing you were looking for. That’s how he’ll tell you he’d like you to leave some of your things there so that you don’t have to constantly leave at night or early in the morning.  You’re pretty much the only one ever allowed in his room, mind you.

- He gets very jealous and he wont play nice either. He’ll openly insult them and probably get a little snappy with you too. His attitude has definitely caused at least one argument between the two of you.

- He’s ready to kill to protect you. He’s not necessarily protective of you but he doesn't want you getting hurt. He tends to pull you behind him or stop you from moving any closer to something if he’s not sure about what will happen or if it’s safe. 

- He takes care of you when you’re hurt or scared, assuring you that everything will be alright, dressing your wounds or trying to snap you out of your fright whether he’s doing it for you or for his own selfish reasons is up to interpretation. 

- He has no filter. He just says what he pleases without any regard towards other peoples feelings, whether his words are directed at you or towards someone else. There’s always a bit of tension in the air as/after he speaks. 

- He gets snappy when he’s frustrated or under pressure. He’ll raise his voice at you and argue wickedly, still continuing his rant even as you go to leave though he’ll angrily question you as to what you’re doing in the middle of it. 

- He can definitely hold a grudge if you really make him upset so you’ll either have to force your way back into his life and apologize or wait until he just cant take it anymore and begins to miss you. Let it be known that Herbert never truly lets a person out of his grasp. Being close to him is like being in a spider web. 

- He isn't above manipulation. In fact, he practically wrote the book on it. Its usually subtle when its with you, careful word choices and purposeful touches. He’ll apologize and say all the right things to get you to forgive him. Don’t worry, he is actually sorry and tries his best to not do what upset you again. 

- He doesn't say I love you; Its not really in his vocabulary. He may have said it a few times in your relationship but not at all often. He shows you he cares more than he verbally expresses it. 

- He has no intentions of letting you go anytime soon and you have no intentions of going. You might have a strange relationship but its your strange relationship and you love it. 

[taegyuun]

finally, the wings took off | pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

genre: angst, fluff

pairing: sunghoon x reader

warnings: mentions of depression probs swearing

word count: 1.8k

“ok this is a great start already! you woke up... 5 minutes before you usually do....” sunghoons voice gradually faded out from being happy to disappointed after checking the time.

a week has passed since you met the said angel and the whole time he’s been trying to “fix” you, his words, not yours. and sure, you’ve made some improvements like waking up at different times and... well that’s about it. sunghoon thought that after a few days or so, you’d gradually grasp the concept of normal life or something in your brain would click and you would’ve had some grand epiphany that the way you’ve been living for the last few years of your life aren’t normal - but contrary to his beliefs, you were nothing of the sort.

you were also very difficult to work with; and incredibly stubborn. you’ve gotten more accustomed to living with the boy but listening to him tell you what to do was not exactly very entertaining on your behalf. sunghoon personally thought that ordering you would be the best way to go about your little situation, considering your life is based on routines and authoritative figures that came from school - but perhaps his idea wasn’t so great.

“sunghoon, i already told you. i don’t need some ‘guardian angel’ or whatever, i’m fine with the way that i live my life even if it isn’t whatever you would call an avergae teens life. i know that. you’re just wasting your time being here.” you sigh dejectedly. you were secretly hoping that somehow you would mange to get out of this hopeless routine. it was often a pain, reliving the same day every single second. but you yourself couldn’t do it. you had to have some sort of help; sunghoon just wasn’t great at it.

“well no matter what you believe, i have to stay here up until you live a normal life. and before you say anything, even if i go up to the upper angels and try to talk to them, theyll just instantly send me back down, because believe me... i’ve tried it many, many times.” his face wasn’t the usual soft almost nonchalant look that he typically wore, instead he seemed more aggravated.

“ok then. what if i just live my life “normally” for a week and then you can move onto another person because i’m “fine” and then i can go back to living my life the way i want to?” you ask after sitting up from bed, getting ready to do your usual stretch before heading to the bathroom. but before you could even reach your arms out, sunghoon was already pushing them down back to your sides before speaking himself,

“y/n you moron, the upper angels aren’t stupid. they literally see everything.” he stares blankly at you as you roll your eyes at his actions before looking around your room and mulling over the idea of actually contributing to his work and trying to change your life.

“fine i guess. i’ll try harder this time.” the sound of his cheering almost made your lips form a smile.

“so what now, huh?”

“well... maybe let’s go shopping? yeah i think that’s a good start. personally, i’m not very huge on shopping but that’s because i’m indecisive but you need to go food shopping and then we can go buy more clothes. y/n you need to start eating more various foods, alright?” sunghoon talks to you almost as if you’re a child, it gets irritating but you understand his reasonings behind it. you like to follow routines, and your routines have to be simple therefore he speaks to you simply.

“alright then, what food should i be eating?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“honestly anything but a balanced diet is the best,” and then sunghoon goes on about all the carbs you need to eat and what sort of proteins there are and all the other things that you already knew except didn’t own, or eat. as he talks to you, you’re already putting your shoes on and taking one of your jackets down from the hooks before quickly grabbing your car keys.

even though you didn’t seem like it, you felt excited for this new change. you were a complicated person. even though you had to have routines, you got bored of them quickly and sunghoon has somehow managed to spark some excitement into your life.

as you both walk down the block to get to your car, you get a few stares from the passerby’s. ok, maybe it wasn’t you who got the stares and it was perhaps the model that was beside you, but that’s just a minuscule detail that you could easily miss.

“sunghoon?” you hear a hum in reply.

“you do realise you’re really pretty? like, incredibly good looking.” instead of a normal reply, you hear a choke and then a fit of coughs. “don’t tell me you’re about to die from choking because someone complimented you? you’re an angel right? you’re meant to be pretty or something.”

“i dont usually get compliments from people alright? i’m not used to it, the most i get is whines from the higher ups or some old pervs trying to hit on me when i get some weird cases,”

“do you wanna talk about it?”

“there isn’t much to talk about, it’s not like they can actually touch me considering i’m an angel so theres nothing to ever worry about.” neither of you realised that you were already in the car, driving and almost at the supermarket. he looks over and sees your brows in a furrow, an obvious sign of confusion. before he gets to ask anything, you beat him to it.

“wait so... i cant touch you? like not even high five or anything? that’s so cool! you’re like... i don’t know, the things in movies- you’re like a ghost!” sunghoon was going to tell that you can actually touch him, only when granted permission, but your expression and the contrast in your voice from usual monotone and bored, stopped him as he instead hummed in agreement and softly smiled, grabbing a shopping cart and heading inside the store.

you huffed as you set down the last bags full of food that you had either never tried or forgotten the taste of down onto your kitchen counter. you then started taking the products out of the bags and placing them in their correct cupboards or shelves in the fridge and some in the freezer.

after you were finally finished with the tedious job, you look over at sunghoon who was leaning against the door frame to your kitchen, as you beamed proudly at him. he lets out a soft laugh as he walks closer to you and looks at what you did to your kitchen.

“you see, look how many choices you have! all the cupboards are full and the possibilities you have with all these ingredients!” you’re surprised at how excited he seemed for you and your now discovered love for placing things away. “whenever you get hungry, tell me so i can teach you new recipes, alright?” you quickly nod at him as he walks off, letting his large wings appear out of his back. he rolls his shoulders and releases a loud sigh and groan, softly propping down onto your couch.

“yeah, why do you even do that? y’know... keep your wings in. isn’t it painful?” you ask as you walk closer to him, before sitting down onto the seat next to the angel.

“i wouldn’t say it necessarily hurts but it’s more like when you sit in one position too long and then you stand up and stretch. i have to do it so i don’t make myself invisible and make you look like you’re a fool speaking to yourself.”

“then... whenever we don’t go out, just have them out! whenever we’re here alone just leave them how they are, let your back rest.”

“i think that’s a good idea,” he then softly smiles at you as his arms extend across the back of the couch, before letting his head roll back and fall onto the the soft cushioning below

more weeks pass, and it has finally reached the mark of sunghoon being your gurdian angel for almost 4 months. you’ve changed an indescribable amount - it occurred to you after a deep talk with sunghoon that routines bored you, but you simply didn’t know what to do with yourself and how to live your life.

you were honestly glad to meet the guardian angel.

you now went out at random times simply for your own will, and you cooked different recipes almost everyday - trying new food constantly. you changed your style and did a whole 180. but sunghoon didn’t want you to completely change, he only wanted you to live like a teen. so, he obviously let you keep certain things the way you liked it; the days you did your laundry or which days you went shopping.

it was nice having him around.

but, the dreaded question had to be asked.

“sunghoon... are you going to leave soon?” you quietly asked, as you went out to latch onto his sweatshirt - another thing you learnt which you could do, only with his consent.

“i’m not sure, y/n. but why ask?” he stopped stirring his coffee with the tea spoon and instead looked down at you with a confused expression.

“it’s just... aren't guardian angels meant to only stay till their case is better? i mean, you’ve figured out why my chart was empty and now i live how i should've lived all along. is there anything you can even do now?”

and then it was silent. it didn’t even occur to the boy that he had completed his task. he had nothing else to do in the human world that was correlated to you. he plainly had no reason to stay, even if he wanted to.

“... do... do you want me to leave?” you almost tug at his arm in anger at the stupid question.

“are you insane? of course i don’t want you to leave! you’re the one who made me finally feel happy, there- there must be a way you could stay... right? or do you want to go?” now it was sunghoons turn to latch onto your arm in disbelief.

“why would i want to leave? i love it here, y/n. being here with you completely changed my life. i’m not chained to some random criminal and i don’t have a crap ton of responsibilities that i couldn’t care less about, it’s literally heaven down here for me... ironic i know, but it is! if i could stay, i promise you, i would.” during his words, his hands moved up from holding onto your arm to cupping your face in his warm and gentle hands. you leant into his touch, with a coil of unfortune building up in your stomach; as if your body knew this might have been the last times you’d feel his soft touch.

“sunghoon please... don’t leave me.”

“i’ll stay for as long as possible, even if it means my wings are taken off.”

[headofhelios]

Ok I am a single follower but I like hannibal tv but would enjoy ur movie thoughts I like some of the books too and have been meaning to get around to the movies 😳😳

OKAY I'M EDITING A READMORE ONTO THIS LOL I REALIZED THATS SOMETHING I CAN DO! so now my incredibly waaayyy too long answer abt my thoughts on 2002 will is under there. apologies bc this is less "movie thoughts" and more "2002 movie will thoughts" but well thats how the chips fell

GOD okay sooo for the record i am reading the red dragon book and am like 7 or 8 chapters in and full transparency im not like. enjoying it lol. the book pisses me off with its misogyny (all the women in it are either dead or it feels like you're supposed to think theyre Selfish Bitches or theyre just there for like. bizarre and uncomfortable sexual moments like the guys talking abt that woman in the elevator, or that one part of mrs. leeds diary which is like. i guess could be there to Show Her Humanity or whatever but 1. there are more ways to do that 2. the book doesnt seem particularly concerned with her humanity considering she's barely even given a first name and so far the novel hasnt seemed to disapprove of how will thinks of her as a possession of her husband) and its inconsistency with will's most important character trait or whatever (he's so intensely, extremely empathetic towards EVERYONE, even serial killers, which makes him really good at finding them! and he can never turn this off, to the point where every time he has a conversation with someone, he ends up mimicking the way they talk, even if he tries to stop! but also he never empathizes with the victims or HIS OWN FUCKING WIFE? HELLO? so it really feels less like "extremely strong empathy for everyone that he cant control" and more like "he can empathize with serial killers extremely well and also other people if we want to Make A Point in one scene instead of letting the point show through the whole book") BUT UHHH ANYWAY. MOVIE THOUGHTS. THE MOVIE THOUGHTS YOU ASKED FOR COMING RIGHT UP!

okay this is what i am worried will either 1. draw annoying tv will graham stans to my blog like flies or 2. end with me being hanged in the town square BUT. it must be said. i prefer 2002 red dragon will graham to tv will graham. and quite frankly? so far? i think 2002 red dragon will graham is better than book will graham. i cannot lie.

my reasoning: because 2002 will actually empathizes with more people than serial killers and his boss! y'know! like you'd assume someone with constant extreme empathy would! the difference between the first scene with molly in the book vs in the movie are SO striking to me now that i've read that part of the novel. in the novel he seems very... rough, i guess, and like he doesnt care about molly's worries. he doesnt seem to see things from her perspective, which especially feels like a kick to the gut because MOLLY! SEES! THINGS! FROM! HIS! PERSPECTIVE!!! she literally empathizes with him more than he does with her! what the fuck! MEANWHILE in the movie, he does seem to care about her. his assurances that he wont get too involved seem like assurances rather than him trying to get her off his back. he hugs her and tells her he loves her and i actually believe that yeah, he loves her, he knows she's worried about him, and he wants to comfort her and ease her worries. and the victims! AGAIN such a stark difference to me! in the book, will is like... uncomfortable empathizing w the red dragon, of course, but he doesnt seem to empathize with the victims all that much, ESPECIALLY not the women. he doesnt care about them. he sees them as possessions belonging to their husbands and its so fucking gross. despite already suspecting that the red dragon chooses families based on the women, he decides to waste time focusing on the husbands as a way of "asking permission to look at [their wives]." what the fuck? meanwhile in the film, he feels for the victims so much that he can barely even say that the kids were shot in bed! when he watches the tapes, he focuses on the women! because that's his fucking job!!! and we see him empathizing with them! wow!!

siiigh okay im gonna stop talking abt the book vs the movie now bc again im only like 8 chapters or so deep. but now we come to tv will vs. 2002 will, which is admittedly gonna be more subjective and part of that it bc i cant remember a whole lot of specifics from the show bc my memory is Very Bad. but anyway

let's get the shallow stuff out of the way. yes i prefer ed norton's face to hugh dancy's. call hugh dancy "gender" or whatever have your fun i support you and your right to call any blood covered man a gender but by god is that not even REMOTELY my experience. next shallow thing to get out of the way: ed norton's line delivery is like music to my FUCKING ears compared to hugh dancy's i am so sorry. like the jokes about will shaking like a damp chihuahua before taking 5 minutes to stutter out "he's killing them....... On Purpose, jack." are funny and all but christ i had SUCH a hard time watching the show bc of that im not lying. literally hearing 2002 will just say "he's not keeping them. he's eating them." nice and quick, matter of factly is better than well im actually gonna end that sentence there but you get the idea. like YESSS you little blonde bitch get to the point i love you!!!

OKAY NOW less shallow points but also less uhh idk man i just dont remember a lot of hannibal. but basically: after seeing how caring 2002 will is, i'm kind of... idk i'm just so over tv will and how abrasive and harsh he is in comparison. like i fell in LOVE with how vulnerable 2002 will is, how he feels like he cares deeply about the people around him (and honestly... idk i cant remember a moment in the hannibal tv series that made me feel the way i felt when 2002 will can't say "the kids were shot in their beds". it's like... yeah this is a guy who feels so deeply for everyone around him at all times. i believe that.) and i just dont remember getting that same feeling from tv will. i have been gently spoon fed the most excellent chocolate pudding and everything else in my memory is just a snack pack. i guess tv will has those moments (what comes to mind is when he brings gideon to hannibal's house and is crying and he says "please dont lie to me") but idk they just didnt really do for me what 2002 will does. and then their scenes with reba! wow! i rewatched the tv version after watching red dragon, bc the film version made me tear up, meanwhile the tv version i barely remembered and i wasnt sure if that was just bc of the different mindsets i was in while watching them or what. and ok i just rewatched the tv version again and like... yeah. it's the wills lol. i LOVEEE tv reba SO much she is giving everything in that scene!! she sounds so like... broken, both bc of dolarhyde's apparent suicide and bc of finding out who he was + what he was doing, she sounds so fragile and guilt ridden! she's amazing!! but will. idk. tv will's delivery just seems... idk this feels dumb to say but it sounds like writing. i admittedly LOVE the line "people who study this kind of thing say that he was trying to stop because you helped him." and his delivery there is good. but between tv "you didnt draw a freak, you drew a man w a freak on his back" and the 2002 version, the 2002 delivery seems more genuine while the tv delivery sounds rehearsed. idk overall the 2002 version of that conversation just makes me feel more? its like. idk i can feel the 2002 version gently holding my heart while the tv version is a scene that is nice in h/nnigram gifsets or w/e.

umm ok this is already suuuper long and my brain is getting a bit mushy so i'm gonna start wrapping it up lol. i'll probably compare book will and 2002 will again after i finish the book, and then i miiight rewatch hannibal, or at least parts of s3. but right now my thoughts are basically: book will is a fucking dick who has an easier time empathizing with serial killers than with his wife. tv will is a nothing girl after being so completely catered to + also idk he doesnt have the same fragility that i want from my wills now. and 2002 will is my little caramel apple. he has this delightful vulnerability and feels like he cares so much and empathizes with more people than serial killers and his boss and 4 people in a diner for one scene! 2002 will made me care about will graham! which is honestly kind of a feat!

[unordinaryquotes]

UnOrdinary Chapter 205 Review

- No you aren’t sweetie. For as serious and seemingly goal driven as Arlo is, he can be easily persuaded by someone close to him. Unfortunately that someone is a complete snake

- All praise Remi for being a great leader. She’s teaching the students and giving them all chances. Also I see you back there Terrence, you sneaky bitch

- Damn, and she’s calling out the aggressors. Though I think this is a perfect example of how students who are bullies might be bullied themselves and are trying to look for an outlet. Hopefully the Safe House can help halt the cycle of abuse that’s happening in the school

- Absolutely destroyed those shins. You’re doing great Remi

- Look at his face, he’s nervous to speak the truth and disappoint her. Arlo’s definitely become softer than in the beginning where he didn’t give a crap about people’s feelings.

- REMI WITH THE ABSOLUTE TRUTH BOMB

- This is a trap many people fall into. When they’re told their hobbies or goals are a waste of time, they begin molding themselves into what that person wants. That’s what Arlo’s going through, he’s been indoctrinated into this system and has hardened into a brick wall. Hopefully Remi can be the one to help him

- LOOK AT HOW SURPRISED HE IS

- This poor child probably never had anyone say this to him before. He’s only ever done what other people expected from him because he was taught doing anything else was unproductive, and unproductive people were failures. The fact that he seems so genuinely shell-shocked by this idea really scares me for what his childhood was like.

- He loves his aunt so fucking much I’m gonna cry. That bitch doesn’t deserve him. How dare she undo all of his fucking development! Also Arlo’s comment about thinking about it on his own shows that he’s being manipulated and finally saw some truth. He’s probably done everything thinking that it was his own will, but how much of it was really the will of others?

- Once again, surprised Arlo. I guess he’s shocked to see Remi back down from something, and that must get the wheels turning in his brain. Though honestly I’m scared if the truth ever comes out that Remi thinks Valerie is Volcan. Their sweet relationship will be ruined

- Arlo, sweetie, you have a lot of things to think about. But please stop going off on your own. This is why you get so overwhelmed and lonely. Please just talk to someone (not your aunt tho)

- Bruh, I hate seeing this little thing. Like, these kids are complex, you can’t just say their personalities in like two sentences. Terrence, you may be watching them, but you clearly don’t understand as much as you think you do. Also the fucking balls this man has to put Remi and Sera on his list of “Likely to recruit” Dude, the moment they know who you are they are gonna tear your ass a new one.  - Looks like I am going to get my low tier revolution, but unfortunately it’s done by these assholes. Cant wait to see them stab and drug their way to peace.

-And that’s Leilah’s color. I already didn’t trust her when I learned her company works with abilities and now my hunch is confirmed. Her company really drugged and almost kidnapped her sister, yet somehow she didn’t know anything about it. I wonder if the reason Sera hasn’t been messed with is because she put the pressure on the company once she learned what they did to her sister. I believe she’s a good person at heart (though I also thought Valerie would be too) but her actions are shady. What’s with high tiers and their relatives having secret double lives?

[tartagliaxx]

first off, hello 🤷‍♀️ anon! sorry i missed you out

and secondly, dw, marius is my favourite too lol, he reminds me a lot of my younger cousin who i lived with when i was younger. i was always the one who took care of him and marius calling me older sister just set off so much memories of my childhood. the both of them are also vv similar in personality, attention seeking, playful and artistic so i always see him whenever i look at marius.

artem is probably my second favourite ngl, ever since i read his ssr where he was jealous and got drunk (what a good combination lmao) i just grew so soft for him. at the end of the day, he's just a vv soft sweetheart who's insecure that we'll leave him :(( i have like 3 ssrs at lvl36, two of them are artem cards and the other is luke. i vibe with luke too bc i love the childhood friends trope, it's top tier. and as for vyn... i have vv mixed feelings abt him. i feel like he could so easily see through me if he was real and i'm just like, how about no. he's rlly pretty though, like rlly pretty.

*major spoilers*

and you've finished the archon quests!!! personally, i feel like the ending felt a bit rushed(?). it's weird bc i thought the resistance war against the raiden shogun was supposed to be the center of the story, but it just devolved to us helping yae with the entire war being swept to the side. and i already knew somebody was gonna die, and as soon as i saw that teppei had become the captain, i just knew.

it's interesting bc i would love to explore what happened to la signora and scaramouche to make them so disregarding of human life. like, i don't like them, but i want to understand their minds. it's sad to read signora's artifact's background honestly. and the fact that her crown said she used to be called rosalyne, that she had perhaps once led a more innocent and naive existence. i dunno, to me it seems like a good ending for her honestly, she had already lost herself after her lover's death and brings pain to many others, i don't think she can rlly return to being her again.

and honestly, a lot of people are talking abt scaramouche not telling signora he already had the gnosis and saying that he orchestrated her death, i don't rlly think so. i feel like he's just that apathetic to human life, even if it's someone that stands on his side, he just doesn't care enough. it also says how he never got along with anyone, not even his fellow harbingers, so i don't know why ppl expect him to seek out someone he doesn't like just to warn her of danger.

i vibe with scaramouche and la signora as the antagonists bc they're good antagonists, but as characters, well. other than the fact that they're pretty, they have like one likeable trait and that is their loyalty. they would do anything for the tsaritsa even if it cost them their life. i'm rlly excited to see what the tsaritsa has in store for us in the future.

considering our sibling is nicknamed 'the prince/princess', i wonder if there's gonna be a day where we're gonna have to go toe to toe with them. if we had them backed them into a corner with no way out, i wonder if they would kill us. it would be an interesting twist if we could actually die, but i feel like the protagonist halo will prevent it lol and i'm sorry bc god, this is so long.

— r. anon

marius. that’s the tweet. man,, you dont realize how in love i am w him?? like,, this man was literally my only hope when i fell horribly sick. i cant w myself now that i’m hearing it w my own voice. it must be nice to remember the good ol’ days… i despise my cousins and i dont have siblings so i dont really have that sort of connection w him. to me, his onee-san is just a joke? a petname? idk but it simultaneously makes me so mad and giddy just like childe’s existence does

i like vyn bc his vibes are sus but at the same time, he’s cares abt our mental health 🥺👉👈 no one’s ever said shit like that to me… jokes aside, luke is seriously threatening his spot bc of his blushing bs like pls 🤲 i’m so weak for that shit give me more. artem makes me soft too like,, he keeps mentioning that he trusts us and he’s just…. HE’S A BIG TEDDY BEAR THAT BLUSHES AT LIKE ACCIDENTAL HAND BRUSHES GRRRR. in conclusion, i love them all.

but man,, give me ssr luck… literally, im in pain…

now that the excitement’s worn off, i can now judge things properly. i think that… the pacing is horrible. like the plot is good, genuinely, but there’s just,, so much to explore abt this. if you think abt it, this is the climax and yet we didnt get much. scratch that. we got a lot but it’s all underdeveloped that it felt like nothing. we go to sangonimiya, got promoted, became captain for like, one sec before we are sent onto an investigation that didnt really produce any results bc app teppei alr knows everything? and then the delusion thing is a good plot point but it’s not really explored? just… a lot of things are left unexplored and i think that story wise, a lot of the possible lore explanations went down the drain. it would’ve been nice if we saw more abt the rebellion and if we had gotten to know whats the real deal w the commissions but eh… idk… i would’ve rather done more quests abt this whole storyline than like… do that whole dance w the three people who lost their vision in 2.0.

if im going to be honest, la signora is such a wasted character. like maybe her death was just for the shock factor or maybe it’s to prepare us for more harbinger encounters in the future.. idk but she’s such a good character from what we’ve seen but we know jack shit abt her and her motives. we know a little from the artifact set but beyond that, what do we have?

precisely! that’s how i feel abt this whole thing when we’re talking seriously. like w ei, i dont really agree w whatever they’re doing but i want to understand why they do the things that they do. everything has a reason and their psychology is just interesting to me.

i think scaramouche’s nature makes it easy for him to disregard human life. call it arrogance or whatever but ultimately, he’s seeing himself as smth above all these people bc he’s more or less capable of standing toe to toe w a god. why should he bother telling signora? it’s not like he gains anything if he does. i think that when he got the gnosis, he’s just ‘well she dies if she dies. who cares abt that? i dont have any need for incompetent colleagues anw’ i agree and i dont think he orchestrated her death but at the same time, he just allowed it to happen too.

as for signora, i’m actually surprised? for the most part, i think that the harbingers took their posts for selfish reasons. for scara, it’s to entertain himself and pass time. for childe, it’s to fight and grow stronger. for dottore, it’s to conduct dubious research w/o anyone stopping him. i expected signora to have some similar motive like power or money but it seems like she does actually believe in the tsaritsa? it would be very intriguing if signora’s main motive in becoming a harbinger is simply bc she is loyal to the tsaritsa and her will. bc in contrast, i think scara and dottore are more loyal to the fact that the tsaritsa can give them what they want, not bc they actually like her. actually, idek if they’re willing to die for her lol. like i wouldnt be surprised if they suddenly abandon post in a life or death situation but who knows…

in any case, they are very good antagonists. i like yo think that the tsaritsa isnt as bad as the game portrays her to be… of all the gods, she’s the one im looking forward to the most but… haha… what version would that be….

i’m almost certain that they’ll make us fight our twin maybe before we face the unknown god? if one of them dies, i would be very sad. like legit. but knowing mhy, well, our twin is almost 100% a walking death flag.

anw i’m shutting up rn— i also spoke too much kahdjabdhakbsjansb—

[splendor-and-true]

Part two of the soulmate color au

Just a recap, you see the color of your soulmates emotions. When you make eye contact wirh your soulmate, you can see all colors. When your soulmate dies, the colors go away.

True stretched as she drifted awake. Feeling soft fabric shift against her skin as a fire crackled somewhere to the side. Odd. Wasnt she just outside? Her eyes snap open as she shoots up. She was sitting on a couch. A rather comfortable one at that. Eyes flying around the room, she realized she didnt know where she was, but oh! The colors.

She could see all of them. She had met her soulmate? Thats right, thats the only way it could happen. But... the only one she had met was that other operator. The one that looked like him.

Her attention snaps toward the door as it opens, watching as the tall man from the forest walks in. It wasnt a room she recognized, so it must be his place. He wouldnt take her back, would he?

“Oh! Youre awake. I was wondering when you would wake up. You slept for quite some time, but I suppose thats normal, running around in the cold like you were.” His voice wasnt like his at all. Quiet, calming and he could actually speak. As apposed to... what he did.

“Um... yeah. Right. That. So...” she paused, unsure if she should proceed. The possibility of him making her go back was still present in her mind. She could see brighter yellows for the time being, but that didnt mean anything. She always saw yellow. “The colors. You...?”

He glanced over her, watching her hands fiddle with the blanket a bit before responding. “Yes, me. I see them all too. I can understand if it’s a bit much to take in. You probably didn’t even know something like me existed until now-“

“No. I’ve been well aware. For some time now.” She turned her head away when the words slipped out. Why was she being so open with him. Just because he was her soulmate doesnt mean she should be so honest.

Silence ruled the room. She could feel his gaze on the back of her head, hands gripping at the blanket as she waited for his next words. This couldnt end well for her. Why had she told him that. He didnt need to know who she was running from. He didnt need to know what was going to happen to her.

“Well... I came to the logical conclusion you were running from something. Of course, I dont know what or who it was. You lost them when you crossed into my territory. They werent capable of crossing like you. But... I know you were afraid. I was afraid for you... I’m sure you could tell... but I would like to know more. I cant protect you from them very easily if I dont know who they are.” He reaches a hand out for hers, not taking it, but allowing it to hover. An offering that she could take or deny.

On one hand, she wanted to tell him. She felt the need to trust him. He was kind. He was being very considerate of her. Attentive. Nothing like him, even if he looked almost exactly like him. She let out a shaky sigh, turning her head to glance at him through her hair shyly, taking his hand slowly. “Okay.”

He smiled, allowing their hands to lower toward the blanket and rest on her folded legs. “You can start wherever you like and tell me as much as your comfortable with. I’ll do what I can with what I’m given.”

His smile is warm and genuine, backed up by the yellow being intensified in her vision. She wonders what color he was seeing a lot of... it was probably purple if her emotions were that simple. They never seemed to be for her.

“Well... I was fired. Thats why I was running in the snow. At night, of all times, of course. Fucker didnt even have the decency to let me think I would survive. Of course... that was probably the point... if Tim and Brian couldnt catch me then the cold would get me for them.” She ground her teeth, that twiggy bitch. If she could kill him, she would. It wasnt likely though.

She was dragged out of her little rage fest when she fekt his hand squeeze hers gently. “If you dont mind filling me in. Who fired you? Were you a proxy?”

She finds herself absentmindedly tracing her thumb over his hand. Finding a small reprive from her thoughts in the action. “Yes. I was. Im not anymore though, so no need to worry about stealing another operators property.”

He hums worriedly before asking again. “Who fired you?”

Her eyes lock on the flames. They werent very bright, despite her knowing flames should be a brilliant orangey yellow. He wasnt very cheerful anymore.

“I was a proxy for Slenderman.” She lets the silence that follows take over. Maybe he knew him. Maybe being his soulmate didnt mean much to him, like Slenderman’s soulmate didnt mean much to him. He had once admitted to having one at one point, though she knew he didnt care to have one. He had called such a thing a ‘waste of time.’ Maybe this one thought the same.

“Oh. Well, that is very interesting. I have to say, it’s rather impressive you got away, though very glad you did, soulmate. I can guarentee he wont be a problem as long as you stay here. He doesnt visit me. All buisness we have is handled in his territory, hes such a shut in.” He waves his hand around in the air, as if brushing the thought of him coming here away.

“Well... thats good.” She didnt know how to proceed. He basically told her that she was free to stay and as long as she did, she would be safe. He would keep her safe.

“Now... I’m no idiot, though I may pass for one on occassion, but I know how he handles his buisness. He is very dependant on fear. And I know being fired from his ‘employment’, if you will, means death. I can promise that wont happen here. Marked proxies of other operators cant even cross the boundaries without permission. Youre safe here.” She feels her hair being played with and looks his way. “I promise.”

She knows it may just be the bond, but he felt trustworthy. She wanted to trust him, so she did. Smiling back at him gently, her hand squeezing his back, gently. “I believe you.”

The yellows in her vision seemed to shine a bit, making her relax into the couch. He was happy. He genuinely enjoyed knowing she trusted him. That she was comfortable with him.

“So, soulmate, I dont belive I got your name.” She turns her head toward him fully, laughing softly as he perks up. Eyes widening as he realizes she was right.

“How rude of me. Im sorry, soulmate. You can call me Splendor.” She tilts her head at the name. It wasnt a surprise, its not like she was expecting a normal name, but it was something that she wouldnt have expected regardless.

“Splendor. Well, my name is True. Im glad to have finally met you.”

[crackcrocs]

DEATH WILL ONLY BE THE BEGINNING #1

1. The backbone to my emotions

As someone who  cannot conceptualise  time in any way whatsoever, I want to say sorry to my loved ones. I'm aware I still need to send my friends messages every once in a while and remind them I still want to be their friends and I need to actively work on this. I need to overcome this fear stopping me from being present and accepting peoples love and support. I want to break free from me and I want to feel content being on this earth, I want nothing more than to enjoy experiences with my loved ones. I love you I love you.

I am a young charismatic, creative individual learning to do things differently so I don't always have the same outcomes. I suffer from a Cluster B Personality Disorder; under the same umbrella of mental health I also experience extremely intrusive thoughts on a daily basis, that can become obsessive and compulsively hyper fixated thoughts in an instant. I have anxiety, depression and a lot of the time I’m deeply dissociated to a point where I struggle to believe I’m even real, even when I do know I am real- I have no attachment to my limbs or body as a whole and only feel alive in a spiritual sense or when I self harm. I don't want to get too into my illnesses; as I’m not someone who really likes labels, just know that everyday is a battle and each personality that exists within me is different. I wouldn't say drastically, however its evident for me and living with so many different masks can be intense. Especially when you've tried to convince people that you're just one solid mould in the hopes they don't perceive you as an intense person. I am going to try to take you through a few of my altars and moods starting with the emptiest subconscious alters that I call the backbones of my emotions to the more powerful  energetic ones that haven't managed to yet consume me over the years. I hope this can give people an insight.

Overall I present a pretty confident front, I like to appear like I’ve got my life together even though I’m so far from it, sometimes I’m not sure ill even find the strength to go on long enough in attempt to get my life together, which is a real problem but it's the sad truth. Don't waste time reading this if you're easily triggered as this piece of writing will consist of real and genuine feelings. I’m in no attempt trying to create content for people who enjoy turning blind eyes and wishing they didn’t see this so I’ll give you a fair warning. I'm not responsible for your triggers, whereas I’m responsible for the things I’ve done. I might have cared too much at one point, but I will not hold myself captive to those situations nor will I regret them. I want the lies, deceit and hurt that I’ve committed against loved ones to end, my secrecy has done enough damage and its exhausting pushing people away even though that’s not usually the intent, truth is I am so embarrassed of myself. I'm private, secretive and mysterious but I’ll also talk about my childhood trauma after like 5 minutes. I guess this says I’m happy to talk about my trauma because it's what I know and am comfortable with, I just struggle to tell anyone the real suicidal me behind my problems. I hate that I’m so young and feel like a dead person already.

I tend to act out or distance myself due to fear which isn’t clear at first if you know me, but does become obvious. I might appear as someone with no care in the world, like I’m unbothered, but I assure you that's the African pride combined with the Leo pride. I also don't want people to treat me like a footstool, which has happened when I’ve come off ass too passive. I care so much and over think absolutely everything, it's literally my only way of thinking. I have little to no self esteem and I have no clue who confidence is unless under the influence of something, be it weed, alcohol or psychedelics (which I don't take much of because I enjoy them and don't want to abuse them) I mean I can function sober, I don't even like to be out of control high or drunk, but as Chief Keef once said, I hate being sober. #i'mTrash4thereference. Although I’m not fully healed and functioning yet, I’m a developed character with both positive and negative traits. At the moment I’m going back and fourth between 'just stop trying' and 'you cant give up'. Sometimes depression is kind of like looking at yourself through a window, there’s this part of your brain that understands it'll pass, but you’re so far into despair that its impossible to see the way out, its a lot like being trapped. I am having a bad patch right now, the difference between this one and the last one is I’m more self aware with less of a desire to go on. At least I’m no longer suffering from paranoia and thinking everyone's out to get me all the time or that I’ll get trafficked walking home from somewhere, but depression and mania are so bloody invasive and there’s always that little voice in my head telling me ill never be good enough. Executive dysfunction kills my motivation because I have so many things to do and I cant pick anything to start first, it gets worse when my depression gets worse too. I'm not lonely though; I have a few people who care for me- and while I'm trying to not involve them in the metal episode, they are around to talk to and that means so much. My friends are super encouraging even though I've only briefly mentioned that I'm having a sad time right now, and that's awesome.

I hate that no matter how much better I get there's still this deep desire to get worse. I don't feel like a real person. I just feel like a collection of what people want me to be and various mental disorders. It would be so cool if I could admit to the world I have a personality disorder without feeling disgusting and without fear.

I've had plenty time to reflect upon every bit of thought that created the barbed wire surrounding my logical brain, I want to feel okay to be alive, but I so strongly just want to die. I am tired of fluctuating from feeling extremely vigorously suicidal to passively suicidal; where I just don't have the energy to carry it out myself. It's gotten way past the point that it doesn't matter what kind of day I have, I think about killing myself all day. Sleep is an escape from life and I'm always tired and wanting to 'sleep'. Deep down I feel like I’m waiting for the right time to end my life and it's not the right time yet because I still have a footprint to leave behind, I still have journal pages I want to burn. I cant just jump off the highest accessible building or mall car park I could find just yet- I don’t just want to ruin others by hurting them with my death. It's sad to think I grew into this mindset, waking up wishing I was dead.

Being abandoned by many people in the past made me doubt people and think everyone was out to get me or wanted something from me, it made me feel hurt and lone. So I felt it would be better to let people down before they could hurt me so I wouldn't repeat the same cycle when forming new connections. It wasn't intentional but I could just silence myself due to fear.

I just found myself feeling immensely hopeless, like I was too internally enraged at the external world to be able to trust anything of it. I definitely do want to get better because I’m tired of feeling this way, it's so exhausting and I hate pushing people away from me like I’m poison. I need to allow people to accept all of me.

Before picking up these coping mechanisms when I was younger and more insecure; I wanted to be a part of the world, I had this strong urge to fit in. I had to learn how to manage my anxiety and socialising became more exhausting stemming from my fear of being 'odd' or 'different', I didn’t want to be called out for being different- it was not a compliment at that age, it always felt like a being the joker in the card deck. I was intensely afraid of being judged or labelled as such. Being told I was a 'weirdo' didn't help at all, that type of criticism is what got to me the most. People made me feel like I needed to change, like I was too African, even in a joking manner it didn't help- because although I was okay with who I was, I did feel like I had to change and westernise myself to fit in. I ended up hanging around with people that didn't care, doing stupid things I didn’t even want to do, dating people I didn't connect with. Eventually I got tired of people using me for entertainment, tired of catering to those who refused to understand. I still have to admit there were many periods that I lowered my frequency to be on the wavelength of others that did not match mines at all, I hate that I'm someone who always feels the need to explain myself so people don't think I'm a bad person and even though I don't owe it to everyone and now I am able to make better choices and I'm no longer easily influenced, it still hurts that i was ever around people that made me feel like I was over exaggerating my mental health or uncomfortable to a point where I learned to downplay it or the mention of it. Now as a coping mechanism I’ve become so facetious and sarcastic about my trauma it's a struggle to take myself seriously at times. Users and abusers belittled me to such a point where I felt they'd underestimated my intelligence and most of all humiliated me. It made me tired of justifying myself so now most days I’m just a mute, but I really do finally have good people in my life who deserve some sort of explanation and it's a shame they don't get to be experience a truly present consistent me. It’s just after having the wrong eyes on me, I don’t want anything to see me. I hate attention because I’m so embarrassed of myself I don’t want to be noticed. People looking at me make me want to kill myself.

I've been told to move past my rage, to let go and become a grounded and level headed person. I've been told there is hope for all of us. Must be nice to believe that, all I could wonder was what it was like to get angry without getting homicidal and suicidal. Even on most days where nothing extreme would happen besides negative emotions, my brain still travelled to a dark realm. I've come to a point where I want to live in my daydream universe wile I physically rot away. That's my business. Sometimes I feel as though all my friendships are on a timer, or more so it's that my timer is about to go off, so I subconsciously shy away and make sure i have no deep friendships. Just in case my head decides to do something stupid.

I don't want to have no friends, I want to have friends and I do value friendships so much more than entitled relationships, I just have a difficulty maintaining friendships because it's exhausting for me, it takes a lot of energy to be social and on a level that isn't just superficial where I can just let go and allow myself to fully be. Sometimes I have a hard time relating to other people, and thus I may feel I don’t belong or don’t quite fit in- causing me to feel irritated, paranoid or even in pain during social situations. It's not always this bad, and I don't mean for it to sound dramatic. It's different when In person and I’m really relaxed and comfortable with the company. However virtually socialising and expressing will always be extremely anxiety enducing and its something I need to overcome especially going into this new phase of Artificial Intelligence.  So if I start to drift away it most likely isn't a reflection of you. The cycle goes I need alone time to recharge then I realise how long has passed and I just feel so bad I haven’t gotten back, I tell myself I’m an awful friend for dissociating for so long, and then I don’t know how to explain that so my anxiety rises, mood drops and I spiral back into a pit of depression, often wanting to relapse but refraining from doing so. Sometimes I manage to get out of the pit, but by then so much has piled up I don't know where or how to begin again.

I don't feel like I could have a normal friendship as well as romantic relationship. It's hard for me to long term imagine myself being fully relaxed enough to let my guard down and not reluctant to express. I don’t think there’s any condition where ill just be came and enjoy a connection without worrying that the other person isn’t putting in as much effort, or they have an image of me, or that I’ve amplified the emotions and even though I feel them that way do they really understand me or love me as much. Silence is so upsetting and I hate the fact I do it when I'm afraid of myself or don't feel good enough. I never intent for it to become 'the silent treatment' because in reality its not treating anyone, it's more a reflection of what I’m internalizing and not wanting or being unable to project and express those feelings without feeling like party pooper, an attention seeker or 'too deep'. I don't mean to give people false hope, I love the people in my life so much and every one I’ve met on this journey. I'm learning to look at life through a different lens and the people who contributed to my suffering will not be the definition of me. People have led me to believe so much and strung me along, not letting me go- and I realised those entitled controlling abusive relationships were not serving me. I couldn't keep doing it. Now even though I want closeness I end up pushing people away or leaving them in the dark because of fear, especially of something new because I've never experienced anything good and true for a long enough duration of time to rid me of that fear. I also have fear of rejection or hurting, I fear becoming too emotionally invested and becoming co dependant so I end up wanting to avoid the pain than actually wanting to experience the joy and growth the relationship could offer, so I end it before it begins to avoid any possible pain. I feel like I don't deserve these connections,and sometimes the depression runs so deep I have to push people away in case I want to do something stupid- I don’t want them to feel at fault, or obligated to be able to handle me. Sometimes I really can just only be with myself and my thoughts so I hide but it may appear that I’m pushing others away because of my isolation and neglect.

With everyone I know, I get this feeling that they're too good for me, their energy is so radiant and loving but I feel so broken and don’t want to depend on that. I've had perfectly ideal people come into my life and I feel they’re too good for me because I have a lot of work to do on myself first, primarily I need to build up confidence and self esteem because it's the root of most my issues. I want to relate to people, share our deepest fears and wishes without fear of judgement. It's not that I don't want to get better, I simply cannot remember what it was like to have an actual honest to god normal personality. The feeling of being a mentally unstable chameleon is all I have  now. I AM my illness, that's the only identifier I have left. I can't remember normality.

I understand that I’m lucky and I’m not ungrateful for the things and people I do have, it doesn’t mean that my life doesn’t suck because of those lucky things. I often think about if someone created technology to transfer life to another, I’d happily give them mine because they'd live it much better than me, I’m not worth anything to myself. I never wanted to be someone to cause pain on the people I love but now I do, even if that’s just through silence. I just disappear when I haven’t been doing well and  although I know things get better, recovery isn’t linear and that not all my days are bad, I just have extreme chronic feelings of emptiness.

I struggle to trust people because I don't want to be hurt but I need people so much, I hate feeling unloved. It's so overwhelming because I feel everything so extremely as if I’m going to explode.

My sense of self and reality feels destroyed, my future and dreams are uncertain and it's hard for me to move on, sometimes it scares me what I’m doing to people without the intention of it, being too much or not enough- or at least feeling that way. It's hard for me to give myself a reason and it's not on the people around me to fill my empty void, I hate forcing people to be my friend or understand my illness. I cant expect anyone to want to- it feels like I’m holding their hand while they pull it away; and even though it's not the case I feel awful, I constantly feel like I’m in a more pessimistic head space. I'm worried people will realise I'm as pathetic as I say I am.

[lettersinscarlet]

That crack fic thing was clearly a challenge, “you can’t see me” “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression” “marry me” “is that... my shirt?” “did you just hit me? With a pillow? Oh. It’s on now” “are you... blushing?” “I cant breathe” “How much did you have to drink?” “how is it possible? I watched you die” “how long have you been standing there?” Anyway, good luck 😂😭✌️

WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?????? THAT IS SO MUCH LIKE I CAN’T

This is why I cry, y’all. This is why I cry.

This will go down in history ahhaa as the time @azurebrock broke me.

Just so you know, it has taken me forever to write this, and it is starting to feel impossible to weave these together in something that sort of makes sense. I’ve stopped and started like eight times hahaha

This is terrible but at this point it’s the best I’ve got and idk why you did this to me 😂😂

———

“I don’t know if this is going to work,” you stated, anxiously looking at Jessica.

“It’s our only shot,” she replied. You sighed, knowing she was right.

You were in some deep trouble. You had so many people coming after you that you couldn’t count. So you had to do something, and Jessica helped you devise the perfect plan. You were going to fake your death. You had high-ranking connections so you could get the legal documents, it was just doing the act and making it believable.

You took a deep breath before you walked in and had a seat at the table, waiting for your meeting.

The plan was you were joking to “choke to death.” Sure, it was cheesy, but it still happens. And you had a full-proof plan. A bouncy ball to tuck under your arm to stop your pulse, a cord of people you had paid to act like you died, an ambulance on standby, and everything ready.

The person you were having dinner with arrived, and you knew it was showtime. They sat down and your performance started. Who knew that bread could be so easy to choke on?

You were making a few faces, guaranteed to sell the act.

“I can’t breathe,” you choked out. Of course, the person you were meeting with had no clue about the hymlic maneuver, and when you stood up, the people you hired to crowd around you made it impossible for anyone to get to you.

So you fell to the floor, making sure to slip the bouncy ball under your arm. You slowly made it look like you had stopped breathing, considering you had been practice this for a little while. When it was checked, your wrist showed no pulse.

A stretcher was brought in and you were wheeled out to the ambulance. Once you were inside, you changed into the clothes you had brought, tucking your hair away in a baseball cap and putting on sunglasses. Your body double was put on the stretcher so when you got to the hospital, you walked out and “fake you” was wheeled in. Of course, your people had taken great lengths to make sure it looked like you.

You got into the rental car that you had stored in the hospital parking lot and you drove. Your stuff was already in the car, so it was ready to go. You drove way past the city limits, ending up in the opposite of California.

You got to your hotel and after you checked in, you went to the bar. You were in the clear, and you really really wanted a drink.

As you say down, sipping your favorite alcohol, your phone rang. It was from Jessica.

“How’s it going?” she asked when you answered.

“Great. Who knew that dying could be so easy?” you laughed.

You had a quick conversation, going over the rest of your plan with her. You had a quick goodbye and you finished your drink.

“Wow,” you heard a familiar voice say from behind you. You turned and saw Colby and froze. You knew he was probably angry with you, and he had good reason. You hadn’t been able to tell him about your plan, otherwise it wouldn’t seem real. If it wasn’t a genuine reaction from your boyfriend, it wouldn’t sell. You guessed that he must’ve seen the whole thing.

“How long have you been standing there?” you asked him sheepishly.

“Long enough,” he said lowly. Then you saw him get angry. “How is it possible? I just saw you die!” He was trying to compose himself, considering you were in a public setting, but he was furious. “Why would you even fake that?”

You didn’t want to explain to him, so you tried something else. “Uh- then pretend it was real! You can’t see me,” you said, and then sighed. This was ridiculous.

“If you thought that was going to work, then you must be wasted. How much have you had to drink?” he snarked at you.

You got up, trying to get away. “Look, Colby, I really cant explain this to you without putting you in danger. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but I am not drunk or wasted. Just pretend you didn’t see me.”

You walked off, and he stood there, confused and stunned. So you got a head start, but he caught up to you just outside your room.

“(Y/N), wait.” He caught your wrist, and you turned to look at him. “Look, I don’t care if I would be in danger. I don’t care if I have to fake my death with you millions of times. I don’t care if I have to move across the country and back again. I love you, and I want to be with you. So,” he got down on one of his knees and he pulled out a box. He opened and it had a ring in it, one that he thought was perfect for you. “(Y/N) (M/N) (L/N), will you marry me?”

You eyes widened in shock and you teared up a little. “Say it again,” you whispered, trying to make sure the scene in front of you was real.

“Marry me,” he repeated.

“Are you sure?” You looked him in the eyes, trying to see any doubt.

“One-hundred percent,” he answered.

You shook your head yes and you watched his face light up with a smile. He got up and kissed you, a kiss full of love and longing. He pulled away and gently slipped the ring on your finger. How he knew your ring size, you had no idea, but it fit.

You saw him smile and then he stopped for a moment.

“Is that... my shirt?” he asked. You looked down and you saw that it, in fact, was one of his favorite shirts. You smiled and nodded at him.

“I guess so. I really like it,” you answered and you saw him blush. “Are you... blushing?”

“I can’t help it,” he said. “You being in my stuff is absolutely adorable.”

You chuckled before you opened the apartment door and pulled him in. You walked over to the couch and he shut the door.

“But, just so you know, I will be needing that shirt back,” he teased you. You gently tossed a pillow at him, and he caught it before it hit him.

“Did you just hit me? With a pillow? Oh. It’s on now,” he chuckled. He sprinted at you, but you couldn’t get away from him. He got to you and started tickling your sides, and you fell down on the couch. He got down beside you and he looked at you with a bright smile.

“I can’t wait to see what our crazy life is going to be like, you know, with me marrying a dead woman and all.”

You laughed and you booped his nose.

“Guess we’ll find out together.”

[pastel-bullet-101]

Part 7

The words that came out of his mouth hit me hard I'll be honest but he has a point. If I wanna get information I'll need to be with the others but I took what he said into consideration. He said I would no longer get help from him. So this is his way of helping though its harsh he does seem genuine and if this exercise works I'll have better control over my quirk. How hard can it be anyway? "So what's your answer?" I looked up to Mr. Aizawa. "I would rather have better control before joining back in the regular class. I wouldnt want to put them in danger." Aizawa gave me a slight nod. "Good that's what a hero would do I'm glad you know to put others safety over your pride." Is that a compliment? Doesnt matter he then begins to walk out the door. "Once you have it down come fetch me in the teachers lounge. Then again I doubt you'll get it today." With that he left and closed the door. After a while I look over the the plank of wood. Alright it cant be that bad. I slowly step up onto the plank. Ok so I just have to jump and land without shattering it. I got to jump but then stop myself. The force then made me fall off. Landing on my behind with a thud. "Shit!" I gently rub my behind. "That's definitely a bruise." The more I think about it the more impossible the task seems to be. How do I jump and land but without using enough force to shatter it? "Uhhggg" I begin to scratch my head out of frustration. Is this even possible? Is this his way of getting me out of the other classes? No. No. No I can do this. I just need to stop doubting myself and do it. I fix up the wood and such because my tumble caused the contraption to fall apart slightly. I get back onto the plank of wood keeping my balance. Ok just jump and land without causing enough force to shatter it. Just jump and land without causing enough force to shatter it.Just jump and land without causing enough force to shatter it.Just jump and land without causing enough force to shatter it. I jump up and land hard onto the wood and it shatters into pieces. Causing another rough blow to my behind. Damn it! I look ok very to the shattered plank. Ok I need to revert it quickly before my time runs out. I quickly grab all of the shards. I close my eyes. Ok breathe in breathe out. Visualize the plank. I let the shards slowly fall out of my hand so the plank has room to form. Breathe in breathe out and. "Revert!" I open my eyes back to the shatters. "Oh come on!" Ok I can just try again.

.

.

.

Nothing. "Aw come on I really dont want to go across campus." I let out a exaggerated sigh. I'm desperate and start bargaining with the shards." Come on please revert back? I'm sorry I shattered you so give me a chance okay?" I try again aaaannnnd.

Nothing. "Come on please work!" Little did I know while I was yelling at inanimate objects Mr. Aizawa was outside the door listening in laughing at my failed attempts. He soon retreats but not before yelling out. "By the way you can only get one peice of wood at a time." He then chucked at the groan of defeat behind him. He already was hopeful to see the progress she's going to make.

Okay I can do this I mean how hard can it be really?

.

.

.

.

"Wow back so soon? What's that like five times in the past half hour?" I felt like I was coughing up a lung by the time I made it to the wood workshop. I have been unable to fix that peice of stupid wood so after the second peice of wood I kinda stopped trying to fix it and work on landing on the wood without breaking it. "Yeah, I haven't been having much luck." The boy smiled back at me. "What makes you go through so much wood? I'm starting to get freaked out." He handed me a new peice with a small chuckle. The boy in question was Izumi Kotamon he's in class 2-C. "Its this training my teacher gave me and every time I mess up I have to get a new peice of wood and I'm coming from the far gym so it's a bit tough." I scratch slightly at my scalp. "Oh yeah your in the hero course right? Must be tough." I let out an small laugh. "Well I gotta get going I'm sorry to cut this short but I'm losing time." Izumi's face flushed a bit.

"R-right I get it... I mean your in hero class so it must be important." I the started slightly jogging away. "Yeah but I'll probably see you soon." I gave him a slight wave and begin to run back to the training room. My lungs were already beginning to give out. I guess this is one way to build up endurance. The more I think about it the more I realize that this training once done properly could really help me.

BUT WHAT IF I NEVER GET IT RIGHT??

"What the hell?!"

Shit. I really need to stop daydreaming.

"Crap sorry I should've been paying more attention."

"Yeah no shit."

Huh? I look to see who I ran into and it's none other than the maniac himself.

Bakugou Katsuki.

I look at him and notice he's pretty beat up and he is in his hero costume. "Wow you dont look to good."

He then looked at me with an extremely menacing glare. Shit I didnt mean to say that out loud. Well to late to back down now. "I mean your um scars look bad you should probably make your way to the nurse-"

"Who the hell are you to tell me to do anything!" He then shoved past me. "Are you serious! I was trying to be nice asshole!" He whipped his head back around.

"The fact that I even wasted my time on a stupid extra like you is me being nice!" He then huffed and stomped away. What a self righteous prick. I took a gaze over at the clock. Shit I wasted like 15 minutes.

Jeez I cant believe that guy. Just thinking about him makes me angry. And the fact he actually isn't that bad of a looker makes me even more pissed. Like if your gonna be an asshole at least have the decency to look like a peice of shit.

I mad either to the training room that I learned how to hate pretty fast. I dont even think it's possible to do? And if it is can I even do it? I place the wood back to its Oh so familiar spot and let out a breath. "How the hell am I even supposed to do this?"

[justsomegruviastuff]

Love yourself ( gruvia day fic )

Happy Gruvia day again 🥳 I just ported a juvia analysis a few minutes ago I'd love it if you would check it out . I'm working on a Gray and a Gruvia analysis that I hope I get to post today ( if not today their coming soon ) this is a fic I made especially for Gruvia day and I'm really proud of it so I hope you enjoy 🌹

" Juvia " she heard him call for her, she was still shaking from fear . Watching Gray beat up their mates while in devil slaying form for some reason scare her . She was never in her life afraid of Gray , she always admired and loved him, but at the moment, seeing him so different, made her heart beat faster. Juvia didn't answer immediately and Gray approached her . When she felt his hand touch her arm she flinched and Gray felt his heart skip a beat .

" Its ... me " he said lightly suprised and saddened by her reaction . Juvia finally lifted her head to look him in the eyes . The black marks around his body were gone .

" Juvia's...sorry Gray -sama ... she ... " gray closed his eyes and took his hand off from her .

" You're terrified " with watery eyes he turned around and started walking away .

" We need to go " juvia quickly run up to him and stopped him from going away .

" Juvia's so sorry Gray-sama ... she wasnt scared of you... she was .. "

Gray turned her way and with tears rolling down his cheeks he faced her .

" What do you mean you weren't scared of me ? I touched you and you flinched, you've never done that before , never" Gray screamed at her . A cold breeze past them and Juvia shivered . Seing the tears that were forming in her eyes made him realize what he was doing. He once again turned around and started walking , away from her .

" No its.. its not Gray - samas fault!" She put a hand to his cheek wiping away his tears. Gray cupped her hand and gave it a squeeze.

" It is , you're scared of me and I scream at you, I beat up my friends and you're terrified " juvia had a concerned look in her face and her eyes were watery .

" No .. no ... juvias isn't scared of you , she is scared for you!" Gray gave her a confused look and she cupped his cheeks with both hands wiping away more tears .

" Juvia is afraid that you cant control that immense power that you have , and if you can't it'll turn against you , juvia knows , it has happened to her "

" And ... how did you control it ? Juvia gave him a genuine smile .

" Juvia was lost , everywhere she went the rain followed her and she always thought it was a curse . Everyone hater her because of the rain so she started hating herself because she couldn't control it . She lived her whole life thinking that her powers were a curse until Gray- sama showed her how beautiful they can really be . Juvia always hated rain but now she can relax with the sound of it dripping down . You taught Juvia self love, or love in general . Suddenly dhe wasnt lost . "

Grays eyes brightened and he gave her a small smile that light her up.

" You were always extraordinary, your powers too. You just needed someone to show it to you " Juvia came closer and rested her forehead on his .

" That's what Gray-sama needs too . Someone to show him how amazing he is . You need to believe in yourself again dear . " Gray cupped her hand and brought it close to his lips .

" I dont know about believing in myself but I certainly believe in you " juvia smiled and kissed his cheek sweetly .

" Then you must believe that juvia will make you love yourself again , like you did to her " Gray smiled

" Dammit , how can you be this wise ,and strong and supportive and beautiful at the same time? " juvias wrapped her hands around his neck and came closer to him .

" She wasn't, you made her like that " Gray laughed .

" Oh shut it, you're giving me too much credit here " they both laughed and Gray with a huge smirk on his face came closer and closer, his lips almost touching hers .

" Well ... I certainly love my creation " Juvias could feel his breath tingling her lips .

" And Juvia loves her creator " without wasting a second Gray smushed his lips with hers . And there they were , two lost lovers that found theirselves in each other .

[mars-the-4th-planet]

Jukebox gets drafted into the longest, bloodiest, most desperate war in American history.

Isaac Munger from the Isaac Munger show network and Ko™ were back from the library. "Trolli! You would not believe what happened!"

Trolli the troll wiped his cheeto hands off on Kos shirt and got up. "Oh, did you see your letter? Sorry, I made it a little orange." He said.

"Trolli, no I just washed her shirt... And no thats not it at all... What is that?"

He opened the letter while Ko chased Trolli around trying to slap him for dirtying her shirt again. "Huh... A letter of draft? But why- oh right, I am 18 now... Darn... But what war?"

The War on Christmas

"this has to be a joke." He said. But it did seem to have official documentation and was signed by General Eisenhower III of the Californian State Militia Enterprise.

"I guess we will have to go down to the military base down the road in a few minutes. Ko, are you coming?"

Ko sat down, tired if trying to catch the weasely Trolli. "Why would I come? I didnt get drafted. Im a girl, box idk if you NOTICED. I guess anime girls can get drafted but I am clearly 3D. Go ask Sakura if she got a letter."

"Sakura? Trolli?"

"No Master."

"Nah br0 I marked myself down as a girl too. What are they gonna do, check? Hahaha. By claiming I am a girl they think im trans and trans people are banned from the military so I cannot get drafted!"

"No Master."

"Dammit, thats how the law works... Wait. I thought I only had one person in this house who called me Master. Which is frankly one too many."

Eji slithered down the stairwell and snuggled up to the box.

"Are you drafted too Eji?"

"No, I am a resident of the UK here on a servitude visa. I cannot get drafted or join the military."

"A servitude visa... Oh my god..." Isaac face-palmed. "Eji you are making this weird."

Eji just grinned. "Where are you going master?"

"Oh I got drafted into the war on Christmas..." Isaac said glumly.

The grin disappeared. "No!! Tell them it was a mistake!"

"Sorry Eji, the Californian State makes no mistakes. You know this."

"Noooooooooo!" Eji cried out clutching Isaac's leg. "I cannot lose you!"

"Ko tell him he is being ridiculous. Ko?"

Ko was clutching Isaac's other leg.

Jukebox sighed. "Fine. I will kiss you goodbye first."

"Yay!"

"Not you Eji."

"Aww..."

After kissing his business partner and girlfriend, both of which were the same person, he headed out in his father's military uniform and a sack on a stick full of his belongings. He had a picture of Ko in his pocket as well.

-Later that day-

Isaac was lined up with two dozen other boys in military uniforms. They had varying degrees of clearly not wanting to be there, except one named Todd Ichabod who seemed gleeful.

The Sergeant was an elderly woman named Callispo Marximillian. She was wielding a cane made of untreated iron and it clanked when she walked around the cement floor. The lights overhead were hot and buzzed with unfeeling anger. One flickered with each clank of the cane.

"Listen up butter boys. We have seen way too many Happy Holiday cups in this blessed state. Liberals spreading their anti-christmas nonsense are everywhere, but they are strongest here in California. We must take back the holiday season no matter the cost, for the dignity of the West! We will bring back the spirit of Christmas stronger than ever before!"

"While I like Christmas myself ma'am, is a military operation really necessary? I mean, we arent being forced to not celebrate Christmas they are just trying to be inclusive by saying happy holidays..." Isaac pointed out, a bit nervous.

"Shut the fuck up private munger. All of you, I will not tolerate this kind of behavior. Now here is the protocol: Tomorrow we will go to Starbucks after Starbucks, and store after store, and spread Christmas cheer all across the town. Say merry Christmas to all of em and make em say it back. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am!" they all said in unison.

"It is actually SIR, boys. I am a woman, but all Sergeants are to be called Sir. I am not your mother, I am not your teacher, or your wife. I am your military commander and you will address me appropriately. Got it?"

"Yes sir!" they all said in unison.

Callispo had one last thing to say "Now remember, if any of em give you trouble you are permitted to use aggressive force. You have belts on, and if that fails you may put em in a headlock till the say Merry Christmas with a smile!" She grinned.

"But Sir... Wouldnt a headlock put pressure on their throat? Which makes it difficult for people to talk and say 'merry Christmas' like this all seems a little..."

Callispo pressed her cane tip against Isaac's chest. "A little what, private? A little AWESOME? Because it is not. It is a lot awesome. We are doing gods work young man, and I do not want to hear another whiny hippy peep about it. Now go take showers yall, you all smell like kicked ass. Except private munger, who smells like a prissy princess who takes bubble baths. Are you a prissy princess boy?!" the other draftees giggled.

"No sir." Isaac said, irritated.

"Louder!"

"NO SIR!!" He shouted as loud as he could.

"Good. Now go clean up, eat, and watch a God's not Dead and a Christmas movie. We got a busy day tomorrow!"

-Meanwhile back home-

Eji paced back and forth, openly distressed. "Ko, do you know what box means to me?! He is the only reason I am still alive... He is the only reason I WANT to still be alive... The world is a hell hole and he is the angel stuck in it."

"Eji please calm down." Ko said. "I know him. He will come marching back like he always does. Remember the trip to Arizona? If he can survive that, he can survive the war on Christmas."

The brit sighed. "I should volentarily signed up... Pretended to be an American... Then I could go protect him... Ohh he is too innocent for war. This could destroy him in more ways than one, oh god.."

Trolli continued eating cheetos and watched them fret. "Guys, I am sure your lover boy will come home. I mean, what could happen, a 5'2 Starbucks employee wastes him? Hah! No."

"You fools keep it down. I am trying to record."

"Spookbox!" Sakura gasped, jumping seemingly out of nowhere. "What are you doing here?!"

"I will be using Isaac's channel while he is away. It is going to be a spooky Christmas. AND I will be reviewing good western cartoons not that anime trash. Oh hey Sakura remember that skit where you killed me? I think it is time I repayed the favor."

"H-Huh? But-"

Spookbox grabbed Sakura and brought her into the recording room while she struggled. "Nooooo! Dont kill meeeeee!"

The others tried to help her but seemed to bang against the black edge of the screen. He had blocked them out.

"Poor Sakura..." Said ko, looking extremely concerned.

"War hurts those at home too." Said Eji, quite astutely. He was pretty smart when not being completely thirsty.

"My Saki... No..." Trolli for once looked genuinely upset like he might cry. "We used to troll Isaac so much together... I will always remember her bathroom prank... What a clever girl... Why cant real girls be that funny and awesome."

"Hey!"

"I did not mean you Ko. Jk yeah I did!" He once again ran around the room with Ko chasing him angrily, trying to find some humor in the situation despite there being none.

"Trolli deals with loss by trolling? Figures..." Eji said. He sighed and sat down on the floor, leaning against the wall. "How will I deal with loss, if Isaac does not return?"

~~to be continued~~

[lamentalia]

Amelia - Ch 6. Pt.4

★

Amelia sits in the low branches of a tree at the top of the collapsed slope outside the Sanctuary, fidgeting. She’s been waiting outside for hours now and already gotten bored with all of her usual distractions.

She’d met most of the other cats at the Sanctuary now and learned a lot of things in the last couple of days. First of all, the Sanctuary is located about a day and a half’s travel south of Achena, a lot closer than she’d thought. It is located in a place called the “forest of illusion,” which, unsurprisingly has some kind of bewitching effect on those who travel through it. It is largely avoided because cats will get lost in here if they don’t know how to navigate it and most of those cats never find their way out.

More importantly for the moment, though, she’d heard from Feli and Emma that Lovino planned to return in two or three days. It had still been dark when Amelia stepped outside this morning, on the third day, in anticipation of his arrival. She’d worn her coat and brought her pack along just in case. She’s not a patient cat to begin with and the wait for such important news is positively torturous. To make it worse she’s been less and less able to distract herself as the hours passed.

She sits in the tree with her knees to her chest, scratching pensively at it’s rough bark. It’s an important task of course, sharpening one’s claws, but if Lovino doesn’t show up soon, she’ll have sharpened them into nothing!

As if on cue she hears a faint pattern of crunching noises coming through the forest, which has her on her feet and on the lookout in an instant. Sure enough, moments later she can see a cloaked figure making it’s way through the trees in her direction.

Amelia hits the ground running. Not willing to waste any more time to hear news about her brother.

He stops walking when she reaches him, and she can see that he’s not surprised to see her. He looks a bit travel worn and concerned. Amelia probably looks a mess. Her heart is pounding hard as she stands before him, waiting for him to tell her already.

“You really shouldn’t just run into the forest like that…” He says, frowning, but it sounds half-hearted.

“Did you find anything??” Amelia asks, ignoring his concern. She simply does not have the capacity for it right now. Lovino sighs and nods, setting his pack down to face her properly. Amelia’s heart sinks into her stomach. This isn’t looking good so far.

“I asked around. Rumors have it there was a big scene just outside Karo that ended pretty nastily, everyone involved appeared to be from Karo, apparently they’d attacked each other.” Lovino says. Amelia nods. That tracks with what she already knew of that night. “Some travelers were skirting Karo when they came across the scene on what seems to be the morning after it happened. Apparently there were a lot of bodies. I asked about a guy matching your brother’s description, but they couldn’t confirm anything.”

Amelia’s chest clenches again. Lovino’s talking fast now and he’s not done yet.

“So, I looked around myself. It’s lucky that I found it— that place reeked of blood for miles— but there was a small trail of it leading some distance away, and there was only one trail leading away. At the end of that trail of blood…” He says, reaching down into his pack. He pulls something whitish out and holds it out to Amelia. “I found this.”

Amelia takes it and recognizes it immediately. Its a scrap of familiar fabric and she can even see some of the broken, red stitching on it. She remembers embroidering the shape of Mattie’s favorite leaf in brilliant red. Its mostly torn away but there’s no mistaking it. Its a piece of Mattie’s apron. Lovino seems to notice her reaction.

“… I thought so. It smelled familiar, a lot like yo— your stuff, but obviously male. The blood trail ended there, he must have used scraps of that cloth to stop his bleeding. I tried to track him from there but I lost the trail. He must be very good at covering his tracks.” He is, Amelia thinks. They both are. Lovino watches Amelia’s face as though to find a reaction, but she does not yet have one to give.  Lovino continues, looking fretful, “He made it out that night and he kept moving but, that’s all I could get.”

He did. Amelia finally closes her eyes to process Lovino’s report. He’s alive and he’s moving. In that case there’s only one answer. Amelia takes a steadying breath.

“A-Amelia, I’m sorry that I haven’t found—” Lovino starts,

“I’m going to Achena.” Amelia says, resolved. She turns back toward the tree where she’d left her pack. Her mind is racing, planning her next moves. She’ll need to figure out how to get out of this forest, for a start.

“— You, what?? Why??” Amelia hears Lovino behind her jogging a few steps to catch up with her sudden egress. Oh right. She stops walking and faces him again.

“Achena is our destination. If we’re separated without hope of finding each other, we should just meet each other at the place we going to begin with. He’ll be headed there, too, I know it. He might be there already.” Amelia says. She looks up at his shocked face, determinedly. “Lovino, you’ve already helped me out so much, but I need your help again. Would you tell me how to get out of this forest? Please?”

Lovino continues to stare at her, mouth agape. His eyes seem to scan her face several times shaking his head minutely like he cant believe what he’s hearing. Amelia is just about vibrating with the energy to go and his hesitance is testing her patience. Finally Lovino exhales, rubbing scrubbing his hands over his face.

“You need to calm down and think about this rationally.” He says and Amelia is taken aback. He sighs wearily. “Look, I’ll go instead, and— “

“No way!” Amelia says, incredulously. “Dude, you just got back from there and then you went on a two day investigation. You’re exhausted! Besides, I need to get to Achena. That was our plan.”

“I’m used to it…” Lovino says, beginning to scowl. It looks like he’s getting angry, though Amelia has no idea why he feels the need to do such a thing. He’s reminding her of how Mattie was acting before. “Listen. Achena is not safe! You’ve escaped discovery until now because you lived in isolation but Achena is a completely different story. You need to stay here—”

Amelia doesn’t hang around to listen to the rest. She turns on her heel and starts to walk back to collect her pack. There’s no use standing around here arguing and wasting valuable energy.

Somewhere behind her she hears a frustrated “Fucking… Fuck!” and more jogging footfalls. This time she keeps walking.

“Wait! Stop!” He says. His voice lacks the angry tone now, but it’s not a compelling enough reason to stop. She finally reaches the tree and scales it, grabbing her pack from where it sits on the lowest branch. Lovino stands below and Amelia jumps down beside him, preparing to start walking. She’s not yet sure what she’s going to do about the forest, but she’ll just have to work it out.

“Amelia, please. I’ll tell you how to get through the forest, alright?” He says quickly, sounding slightly desperate now. Amelia stops now. She’s still peeved, but she’s also curious about what changed his mind so quickly. “In return, let me come with you to Achena.”

She blinks at him dubiously. Despite his outburst a moment ago, he’d still done a lot to help her and his insistence to continue doing so to his great inconvenience does not sit well with her. He has the Sanctuary to worry about and he really does look tired. She lets him continue, though.

“I try to keep a low profile in Achena… showing up so soon after a supply run is too risky and could attract the wrong kind of attention. But I can…” He hesitates a familiar expression on his face. “I can at least get you there and we can figure out a way for you to find your brother and your friends.”

Amelia can see that he looks genuinely scared. The bitter look on Natalya’s face the other night momentarily flickers in her memory. It looks a lot like the one Lovino’s wearing now. Should she really disregard the kind warnings the Sanctuary cats have given her? She’s always been told she doesn’t think enough before she acts and, she realizes with a jolt, Mattie isn’t here to snap her out of it. This this seems to have done it, though.

“…Okay.” Amelia lets go of the furious energy that had been pushing her forward. A little embarrassed by her own reckless behavior, she says somewhat meekly, “Yes please. Um… Thanks.”

Lovino lets out a big sigh of relief and the tension leaves his body so fast he looks like he might have fallen over. Alright, that’s a little over dramatic; it looked deliberate. Amelia rolls here eyes a little, but smiles. Its kind of funny.

“Okay, okay…” Lovino says vaguely, starting to pace back and forth, his short tail swishing erratically. Amelia watches him curiously for a few minutes.

Finally he stops and looks Amelia over with an awkward, darting gaze that look away quickly.

“First, we need to make sure that no one will find out you’re a molly.” He takes a deep breath. “This might be uncomfortable, but just go with me on this…”

★TBC★

Wheeeee

[wickymicky]

you know, i used to say that Egoist or Hi High were my number one favorite kpop songs (it went back and forth, i think i was most vocal about Egoist being my number one but there were times when i felt like it was Hi High), but like... idk... like aside from So What, i feel like i’ve barely listened to Loona at all so far this year, and honestly it’s been like six or seven months, maybe eight or nine, since i regularly listened to Loona every day (again, aside from So What).... i’ve listened to Egoist, a song that i considered my favorite kpop song hands down for the majority of the time i’ve been into kpop, like ten times this year and that’s it... and some of those times were because i had the thought “oh jeez i havent listened to this song in a long time, i should do that... i’m betraying it...”

i wonder if i only kept saying/thinking that egoist is my favorite kpop song because i said it once and i had to stick to it... i think its pretty clear to any mutuals i have that my actual favorite kpop song is something like picky picky though, a song i actually post about all the time and listen to really frequently...

:/

so yeah, there’s no easy way to say this, but it really feels like i’m hanging on to Loona out of a sense of loyalty more than anything else :( it’s hard to put into words but listening to Loona feels kinda different these days. knowing more about how they decided things on the fly and how rushed the selection of the final members was (and how little the members were told) kinda... like... doesn’t it change how you listen to a song like New or Egoist? it certainly gives a lot more context to Yves being really shy in those first loonatvs she was in... and Olivia’s experience with her debut was such a whirlwind, like, she was just kind of thrust into the group... i have soooo much respect for all the members for being able to handle it, and i think it’s a fuckin miracle that it worked and they ended up with twelve incredible members, all of whom are so talented and any group would be lucky to have them, but even still just... some of the fun is lost a little bit for me. and I can’t listen to Everyday I Love You, one of my favorite Loona songs, without thinking of how much Vivi’s potential has been wasted. it turned a song that i have fun while listening to into one that makes me frustrated or sad. 

for whatever reason, i feel less of that when listening to ot12 stuff, even if some members get shit for lines, tho tbh, and this is a really hot take and i’m sorry... but i’m really mostly just into their three title tracks (and Favorite i guess), i rarely listen to their bsides.. they don’t hit me the same way, i guess. anyway though it’s the predebut stuff that makes me frustrated or sad. i cant help but empathize and think of what they must be feeling in the predebut era... happiness and excitement sure, but also nervousness, anxiety, stress, etc... the one by one debut concept was novel and it ended up working out in a sense, but at what cost? it was able to work out because the yyxy members were brought in at the last minute, Hyeju literally with only like 24 hours before they were gonna reveal the next member, and with all the changes we know about like Vivi probably being intended to be in OEC and things like that, and trainees that BBC had who for whatever reason ended up being rejected also probably at the last minute in favor of the yyxy members who were brought on... sigh... idk

it feels like it’s getting harder and harder to be a fan of this group, too. as they get more popular and more recognition, the fandom is growing, and with that comes a lot more drama, none of which i particularly care about (aside from the stuff relating to the group itself, as i’ve been talking about). they got their first win, and i was happy at the time, but... i’m worried about their future. it’s not that i wish they didnt get their first win, it’s just... i hope this doesnt make BBC feel validated in overworking and over-controlling them, you know? i want to believe that a lot has changed for the better since after Butterfly, especially when Jaden Jeong left, but we just have no way of knowing that for sure. there’s evidence for both sides, so at the end of the day, all we can do is speculate, and that doesnt really help anything. 

it sucks to admit this to myself but i feel like i’m losing interest in this group because of all this. whenever i’ve watched loona content from the So What era, sometimes they do seem happy, but even then there’s this feeling that they’re stressed and tired. are they happy? again, we can only speculate, so it’s best not to, but i cant stop my idiot brain from assuming the worst and picking up on signals that might not even actually be there, it’s just confirmation bias. maybe i only feel like theyre not at 100% because i’m already worried theyre not at 100%, you know? hmmm. also, i just... don’t think i feel the same connection with this group that i used to. maybe i never really did, tbh. they were my first group, my introduction to kpop, and i genuinely love some of their stuff still, but i feel like as i’ve gotten sooooo much more understanding of this whole kpop industry and i can put loona’s discography in context with aaaaaallllllll the other kpop songs i’ve listened to.... i feel like a lot of their stuff hasn’t aged as well as i would want, for me. you know how sometimes you wonder how much of what you like is really stuff you like, and how much is only because other people like it so you subconsciously feel you have to too? well, at first i would have said i genuinely love all of it and i could explain why, but idk i think i was convincing myself of some of it... as ive found more stuff that i genuinely love, it becomes clearer what are my things and what arent, you know? when i only knew 30 kpop songs and had 5 super-favorites, it was easier to overestimate some things, but now that i know hundreds and have a really deep pool of super-favorites, some of that early stuff i found is overshadowed, i guess. maybe egoist isnt as special to me anymore cause like.. at the time, i hadnt heard many kpop songs like it, but now... i have. and some of them do what it does just as well................. if not better............... sigh, i feel like im punching my past self in the gut

if this hurts you to read cause you’re a huge orbit, trust me, i know what you mean, it hurts to admit this. it kinda sucks to realize that you’re slowly losing interest in something you once loved and was incredibly important to you. 

oh and by the way, when i talk about losing interest, i dont mean that i dont care about loona anymore lmao, i just mean theyre going from my number 1 or 2 or 3 spot down to like my number 5 or 6 or 7 spot haha, alongside other groups that i like a lot but don’t follow the same way i follow my ults. so like even if i continue feeling this way about them, theyre still one of my favorite groups lol. like i guess i would kinda place them around where i would place twice or another group like that in my top 10? anyway... i just had to get this all off my chest. it started out being a post just about egoist and kinda hi high too, but then i realized i had a lot more to say haha, sorry. hopefully this doesnt upset anyone, idk, i hope you understand where im coming from :(

[lovebunnie]

fr the poem questions: all of them >: )c

jared... only for you...

the tyger – are you a taker of calculated risks or do you enjoy playing with fire? would you rather ask for permission or forgiveness?

i am a major rule follower, i am not at all adventurous and i like to stay in my comfort zone. my life is a mix of staying true to my comfort zone and doing what I feel is right, first instinct. 

i carry your heart with me – do you believe in fate? what’s your secret to living a good life?

i tend to not believe in fate, it tends to make people not take responsibility for their actions and it leaves a bad taste in my mouth; predestination takes away humility from us. and i wouldnt say that im currently living a good life, its getting there but more often then not i would not describe my days as ‘happy’, more so just another day. but to make a day not outwardly bad, i firmly believe in having a really good breakfast in the morning and taking a shower at night. both of those really make my days better.

i wandered lonely as a cloud – what does nature mean to you? where do you feel most at peace?

nature for me is what comes to us instinctively and what we turn to for comfort in trying times. i feel the most at peace either at summer camp or in my bedroom with my cat :3

blackberrying – what were your early years like? do you miss being a child?

my early years were very happy, i was a very happy and funloving child. it was a time where i wasnt told about any of my family drama so i lived in blissful ignorance. i definitely miss being a child, all the way up to about 7th grade. its just been downhill from 8th grade and on.

ode to a nightingale – how do you feel about your own mortality? do you believe in life after death?

my mortality is something of a burden i carry with me everyday, a reminder that every minute is precious and this is the only life i get, i have one shot to not fuck it up. i dont believe in the afterlife, the concept of death is something that if i think too hard about then itll fuck me up.

hope is the thing with feathers – what gives you hope? what would you tell your 10-year-old self?

hope comes from those news stories about good news, like charity donation goals being hit and remembered anniversaries and flower bouquets in public, there is good in the world and sometimes its hard to find but its always there. to my 10 year old self, i would tell her to not hold too tightly to those around you, and that life constantly changes so dont get too attached or comfortable because itll prevent you from growing in the future.

the road not taken – do you find it hard to make decisions? what regrets do you have?

its really hard to make decisions because i always assume that my ideas are wrong or bad so if someone else takes the lead, i cant be blamed. as far as regrets, i wish that in my past, i just put myself out there more. i couldve spent highschool actively seeking for possibilities instead of sulking and wishing they came to me. they dont ever, you have to find them.

still i rise – what's your relationship with yourself like? what are your best qualities?

i have a bad relationship to myself; if i admire one trait about myself, the other traits must be less than. for example, if i think i look nice one day, then i remember abt my grades or my writing and how much i hate both of those. i can never be fully at peace, it will never be enough to sate my psyche. my ‘best’ qualities depend on the day, right now i think i have nice eyelashes.

howl – can you express yourself freely? do you feel smothered by societal norms?

i struggle everyday to be my genuine self. its not so much societal norms but my own mind; i want to look nice but i dont want to attract too much attention. i want to be remembered but not for how good my ass looks or whatever. my biggest fear is that people see me as something desirable but only sexually so i want to dress how i feel but i cant because im terrified of the gaze of men on my campus.

the raven – are you in touch with your feelings? how would you describe the relationship between emotions & rationality?

im extremely in touch with my feelings. i can acknowledge when i am angry or sad or happy, even if i dont know why. i allow myself to feel my feelings and then let them pass, i hate bottling those things up. between emotions and rationality, i use my emotions 9 times out of 10. i ask myself, ‘what do i want?’ and the first thing i come up with, i know is what i truly want to do. 

sonnet 116 – how do you define love? what qualities do you look for in a significant other?

i think love is everything; its the warmth of hanging out with familiar people, its when people remember facts about you, its a meaningful hug and its ‘this reminded me of you’. its different for everyone but i feel love in everything i do. in a significant other, the biggest thing is being able to make me laugh, if youre funny than im sold.

to autumn – what's your favorite season and why? what cherished memories do you associate with that season?

my favorite season is winter because it has lots of holiday warmth, good food, pleasant childhood memories, and comfortable clothing. also i love snow. i have very vivid memories of a blizzard in maryland when i was 11(?) years old, my neighbor tied a sled to the back of his ATV and dragged us around the cul de sac, it was so much fun!!

the waste land – do you like big cities? if you could choose any place on earth, where would you settle down?

i love big cities, they evoke so many feelings of love and the atmosphere being surrounded by people makes me so happy! if i could live anywhere, i think it would be san francisco, i love the city and the weather and the public transportation!!

o captain! my captain! – what are your aspirations in life? what motivates you?

in life, i want to give a tedtalk. i would also love to publish a book but i dont like what i write so if i ever did, id end up hating the book anyway in a year or so. i want to teach people the joy of public speaking and i want to give kids the joys i had given to me by my teacher when i was their age. my motivation comes from, this has to be done and if no one else will do it, it might as well be me. i have the passion and everything else will follow after that.

she walks in beauty – what's your aesthetic? how would you describe the relationship between inner goodness & outer beauty?

id describe my aesthetic as lovecore, i love the color pink and red and hearts and flowers and teddy bears and dresses and sparkles and valentines day and i love everything stereotypically ‘cute’. and i feel there is no outer beauty without inner goodness, if someone has bad intentions or a rotten core, their outward appearance will reflect.

one art – how do you deal with loss? do you write diary entries, poetry or prose?

thankfully i have not had to go through tremendous loss in my life but when i feel an emotional loss or general low point, i tend to move towards art, aimless doodling to take my mind off of situations. it centers me.

work, sometimes – how does your favorite weather make you feel? what is happiness to you?

my favorite weather makes me feel SO happy, all smiley and giddy and like things are going to be okay, just for one day, i will make this a good one. happiness to me is comfort and joy, its something that makes you laugh until your sides hurt and its art that you look at and feel. happiness isnt a huge moment, its little moments scattered throughout the days.

acquainted with the night – do you think there's such thing as the right time? what’s your outlook on the world?

no, i dont like to set things off for the thought of there being a right and wrong time. time isnt real and we only have so long on earth so there is no time but the present. go get that tattoo, ask them out, eat that snack. my outlook on the world is that there is a lot of bad shit but there is also a lot of good shit you will never see but it important nonetheless. you cant change the world in a day so you might as well take it one day at a time, working everyday to make it as good as possible.

if – do you daydream a lot? are you volatile, or do you stay calm when conflicts arise?

i love to day dream, it helps me determine what i really want and its a lovely distraction when the goings get tough. i try to avoid conflicts in every situation possible but if i were pushed, id either accept my mistake and apologize and work towards a better future; or i would tell the other person how im feeling and what i can do to help them feel better.

what would i give? – do you cry often? if you could change anything about your past, what would it be?

things make me sad but rarely enough to cry, things more so tend to weigh me down then break me. i let the sadness take me however it sees fit. and if thats to cry, so be it. if i could change anything about my past, i would just say that you will only get this chance to start over in a new state once, the years will go by quick so to TAKE OPPORTUNITIES WHEN THEY SHOW THEM SELF TO YOU!!!!!!

[chimswae]

Chapter 18

Foreword:

Some stories are better left unsaid.I couldn’t change anything for the world, although the fame part of this industry is tough to handle.Do i have a life? Yes I have my fans.Do i have friends? Yes the members that I cherish. Do i have love? No I have to let go.Life always offers you a second chance. It’s called tomorrow. But do i have any tomorrow?

Pairing: Jimin x OC (Other characters: BTS, OCs, Lee Taehwan)

Genre: Idolau, Fluff, Romance

Word Count: 2,890

Author Note: I crosspost this story from my Asianfanfic account. Mind you, clicheness OVERLOADS

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18

Chapter 18:  Insecurities can be super loud

“Taehwan, marry me”

 He almost choked on his food after hearing such a blunt and ridiculous request from the girl in front of him. What got into that thick head of hers? Was she crazy after all the torment from the medias and Bangtan’s fans?

 “ARE YOU CRAZY? Stop fooling around that is not funny”

 “I am dead serious, marry me” he felt Yeoul’s hard stare on his face penetrating his soul and it mortified him. What on earth was that? Did he hear it right or was him having a bad dream from his nap?

Taehwan eyed the desperate girl with a glint of fear plus anger, it was a stupid request. No matter how much he loved Yeoul, he would never give in to such request. There must be something bothering her and he was about to find out.

 “Listen Na-ssi, I flew all over from Busan to Japan not to hear this crap from you. What is bothering you woman. Tell me right now” crossing his arms, Taehwan leaned back in his seat watching her fidgeting in her seats.

Yeoul seemed disturbed and distorted. He was well aware, she’s under pressure by medias and Bangtan’s fans but that didn’t mean she allowed herself to propose a man like himself to marry her right way. Crazy as it sound, but Yeoul really did it few minutes ago.

 Taehwan almost fell for it. If it weren’t for the thought of Minyeol and Jimin, he would say yes without doubt.

 “I cant do this anymore” Yeoul exhaled a heavy sigh as she facepalmed.

 He kept his mouth shut giving her space to continue “ I…am ruining Bangtan’s life, each of them” her eyes watered.

 “And why do you think that?” he raised one of his eyebrows out of habit.

 As if like a cue, her tear cascaded like a sudden downpour of rain “ They are at the verge of losing their important jobs, some company tried to cut ties with them. There were even riots in front of their office building as a protest and Jimin is losing his fans one by one. It is me to blame, the boys are the victim. It sounded crazy but I don’t want to risk Jimin and the whole group losing the title that they have worked so hard!” she exclaimed with a sob.

 Her body was shaking uncontrollably causing Taehwan to automatically embraced her close to him “Na Yeoul you fool. Stop blaming yourself. Reality sucks I know, but this is life. We cant stop people because we have different heart and intention. As for Bangtan, you are not responsible for everything happen to them. In fact, this situation helped them to see who’s the real people who have their back and who’s not” he caressed her back.

 “Cant you see. Business who backed out from the contract is just another peasant who seek for better opportunity to widen their business. They are being a businessman, it is the life circle. These people will eventually come to seek for Bangtan once everything settled, I bet on it” he shook his head.

 “Speaking of the fans. Those who left are not even real Armys, do you think if you genuinely love a person you will simply leave them over a petty problems like this? Normally what you will do is that to sit down and hear it out from both side. Now, even after Jimin has told everyone everything don’t you think he deserves the chance to be forgiven. Since, the fans have heard it all.. if they still are leaving meaning, their love for Bangtan is not genuine” he tried to comfort Yeoul whom seemed had calm down a little after listening to Taehwan reasonable pep talk.

 Taehwan rubbed the tears that stained her cheeks with a genuine smile “Now come again, why are you proposing to me what it is on your mind?” she mewled suddenly became embarrassed of her sudden outburst.

 “I thought.. by proving to public that I am with someone else that will help to return back his image as it was” she reasoned.

 Humming softly, Taehwan tapped the bridge of her nose “That is silly. The whole world knows he loves you, if you suddenly married to me Jimin will receive harsher critique from public. You don’t want to ruin him don’t you?” the girl frantically shook her head with a sniff.

 “What should I do Tae?” her eyes were full with fear and regret. She wasn’t on he right mind when she said those words to him, now her mind was totally blank. What else could she do to help Jimin?

 “I think Jimin knows what he’s doing. He’s already feeling so down don’t add the pain. He needs you and Minyeol, that’s all he got. Please don’t ever think of trying to propose another man” he frowned and pushed her forehead lightly with his knuckles.

 Her lips twitched into a slight pout “I am sorry, wasn’t in the right mind. Kind of grateful you didn’t say yes, that would be so mess up if you did” she joked.

 “Dream on woman. I am trying to move on please don’t encourage me even further” she chuckled at sulky Taehwan. If it weren’t for Taehwan who kicked the sense back in her, she had zero idea what would happen to her. She kept on repeating the same mistakes all over again. It was about time to learn how to think without involving emotion in it because the outcomes were different.

 It’s definitely wise to mend her emotions before coming out with a solutions just in case it was a vice versa, things could turn out awfully mess up.

 ------------------

 “Appa…” Minyeol tackled his sleeping dad into a hug as he showered Jimin’s face with kisses, “Wakey wakey appa wakey” he urged.

 Jimin crack a wide grin with his eyes still close “Hmmm two minutes baby” he wounded his arm around the boy, pulling him to lay with him together on bed. Minyeol presence here really helped him emotionally to cope with problems that he currently facing. This innocent child was a true miracle for him and Yeoul.

 He was beyond happy that Bang PD really brought Minyeol back in their arms minus the part Taehwan was coming along to accompany Minyeol. No hard feelings but still that guy was crushing on his girl. Jimin was alarmed.

 Nonetheless, thanks to Taehwan again for looking after Yeoul and Minyeol when he wasn’t be able to physically be there for them. Jimin tried to be friendly with him for the sake of Minyeol at least. He knew how his son favored his Taehwan samchon.

 Minyeol squealed in delight as he felt Jimin lips tickle his cheeks “Appa no… Omma said you have to get up in 1, 2 3..” the latter then continued to count but come to an end earlier than he planned when Jimin attacked him with kisses and tickle.

 His laughter echoed in the room but thankfully they got the room to himself not worrying it might  annoy any sleeping souls especially Min Yoongi, if he ever heard something this loud ruining his precious sleep-sleep time.

 Yeoul came out with a bathrobe to be welcomed with Jimin and Minyeol sparring on the bed “I am babysitting two babies, I believe” she chuckled to herself.

 “OMMAAA~~ APPA BITES YEOLLIE TUMTUM” he shrieked adorably.

 Not caring and did not even have any intention to lend her hand for a help, Yeoul only walked pass them to put on her clothes. Her steps came to a halt when Jimin wrapped his hand around her wrist, tugging her down which she ended up sinking in bed together with them.

 “You are not going anywhere” a playful smug played across his lips.

 Minyeol then took the chance of distracted Jimin, straight to Yeoul arm complaining about his tumtum being bitten by his daddy. Chuckling away, Yeoul rubbed his tummy while blowing softly sending the pain away.

 On the other hand, Jimin was lying by his side witnessing this beautiful scene in front of him. He sure had missed a lot of things but seeing how Yeoul handle their son sent butterflies in his own tumtum. Jimin kept on chanting in his head how lucky he was to have Yeoul back in his life. No regrets, happiness started to consume him.

 Feeling his gaze on her, her head perked up to Jimin’s direction after pampering the younger boy “Good morning handsome” she leaned in for a quick smooch on his lips that snapped him out of his trance.

 The corner of his lips pulled into a charming smile. How endearing.

 “Morning , love” his voice brittle in most sexy way most probably because he just woke up.

 “Breakfast in 10 minutes. Jin oppa came few minutes ago, he asked you to come down” tapping his nose softly, she giggled.

 Jimin pouted “Cant we have breakfast on bed instead?” he tucked strand of hair behind her ears with a playful wink.

 “Your breakfast in bed is an unhealthy one not that food kind of breakfast. Now chop chop, stop flirting and shower!” she squished his cheeks together.

 “CHOP CHOP QUICKIE SHOWER!” Minyeol mimicked his mother with a happy clap.

 Pulling Minyeol into a tight hug, he rubbed their face together “Lets shower stinky boy” Yeoul watched their figure disappeared behind the door and quickly changed into a comfortable outfit.

 She promised to bring Minyeol to sightseeing with Taehwan today while Jimin insisted to tag along, Yeoul turned down his offer without mercy. He must join their concert rehearsal since Sapporo would be their very last stop before taking a break from touring.

 Not long after, there came a frantic knock at the door. Yeoul tilted her head in confusion and quickly opened the door only to be greeted by a panic Jungkook. He was out of breath, did he actually run to reach here? She thought their room was at the same level but different at different wings.

 Dropping the formality between them, Jungkook wasted no time to ask her a favor “Yeoul! Do you know how to do a first aid?” his already round eyes widened even more.

 “Mmm..kind of? But depends on the situation. What is wrong Kkuk? Did someone get hurt?”

 The younger boy blurted “Namjoon hyung! He stubbed his toes on one of the chairs. Sejin hyung was out with Jin hyung so Hobi hyung and I have no idea what to do. Please help us” his lips was subconsciously curled up into a slight pout.

 Yeoul gasped “Oh my god that is bad! Lets go!” she closed the door behind her and mindlessly followed Jungkook to the east.

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

 “OWWWW JUNG FRIGGIN HOSEOK THAT HURTS LIKE HELL. FUCK” Namjoon cussed in English which seemed foreign to Hope’s ears, but he understood the last part and quickly removed his hand from damaging their leader’s toes.

 “I am sorry. I googled this and they said to press it like this” he blinked innocently.

 “YAH! THAT IS FOR SPRAINED ANKLE! NOT FOR THIS” he continued to hiss in pain. Gritting his teeth together, Namjoon clutched his pain trying to calm down his nerve. Why was he so clumsy?

 Both Jungkook and Yeoul strutted inside the room with a panic look, Namjoon heaved a relief sigh upon seeing Yeoul. Finally someone that he could trust.

”Thank god you came! One more minute, Hope unprofessional treatment will cost me life” he whined like a little kid. Hoseok decided to sulk at the corner while glaring at Namjoon’s way, feeling unappreciated.

 Yeoul shook her head with an apologetic smile “ It is alright oppa, Hobi oppa tried to help you even though it is a little too much for him” she shot Hoseok a     quick wink causing the older boy to pout even more.

 “Okay let me fix this” she knelt down before Namjoon, propping his injured legs up on a stack of pillows with Jungkook’s help. She carefully examined the injured toe to find any broken or misplaced nail. As if in cue, Namjoon whine got louder and she assumed he probably had a fracture or sprain in his toe and foot.

 “Oppa, I think you need to see doctor. While waiting for you to be transferred there, I will disinfect this cut first” He only nodded as his teeth ground together trying to withstand the pain.

 Yeoul turned to Jungkook “Kkuk can you call your manager oppa and let him know Namjoon oppa needs to see doctor?”

 “Alright I will give hyung a call again”

 As soon as she noticed the abrasions on his toes, she requested Hoseok to assist her in getting materials that she needed to disinfect Namjoon’s cut. Hoseok watched Yeoul gently cleaned the toes with soap and warm water. After making sure it is all cleaned, she dried his toe carefully not to hurt Namjoon with a clean cloth, and applying anti-bacterial cream onto it before wrapping it up with a clean bandage.

 “Now stay still until your manager come to get your injury checked” she patted his knees with a warm smile.

 “Thank you Yeoul-ah…” ruffling her hair softly, Yeoul arose to her feet and his ears were greeted with Jimin and Minyeol voice. Maknae must have told him about Namjoon, considering that they were here already.

 -------------------

 “It is really okay you don’t need to push yourself”

“But it is our last concert”

 “Yes it is, so what? Do you want to be it the last concert in your life or the last concert of our Wings Tour”

 “That sounds harsher!”

 “SO LISTEN TO ME! Stop moving around, you can just sit a the back and rap your line”

 “You are not doctor I am not listening to you”

 “KIM NAMJOON!”

 “KIM SEOKJIN”

 Yeoul slipped between the two breaking their staring game “Guys seriously, this is no time to fight. You have to be on stage in few minutes” Jin scoffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance. He was pissed off how stubborn Namjoon could be no matter how hard he tried to nail that brain of his, he just loved to talk back.

 “And you…You are not allowed to move around, the doctor said your foot need rest. Don’t blame Jin oppa, he is worried of you” she patted his shoulder with a concern look.

 Namjoon sighed “I know, but I don’t want to disappoint Armys”

 “You wont! In fact, they are proud of you” she cut him off.

 “How I wish Yeoul is Bangtan’s 7th member instead, tsk tsk Rap Monster behave now will you?” he poked his long finger on his forehead. She diverted her attention to Jimin whom already in his full makeup walking towards her with a cute smile.

 “Baby do I look okay?” pressing his lips together, he blinked cutely.

 “When was the last time you look ugly? You are dashing Jiminie” she soothed his collar and moved her finger to stroke the strand of his hair.

 “Now you are all ready! Go rock your last stage. Minyeol and I will be watching you from the audience seat” she whispered softly.

 He frowned “Will you be okay? To sit in such a huge crowd?”

 “Taehwan will be there so don’t worry. Do what you are best at, and we will enjoy your concert” Jimin wounded his arm around Yeoul small body, recharging himself before the concert starts. Whistles could be heard from every corner from the staffs and of course Sonyeodan boys teasing the lovebirds who seemed not to care with people surround them.

  ---------------

 Bangtan’s final concert in Sapporo went pretty well and it was finally the time to bid farewell to Armys embarking their last Wings Tour after months traveling around the globe. Overwhelmed by the response, the members stood still in the middle of the stage gazing every corner of arena. They had achieved so much to reach here together.

 They could feel their eyes watered to watch happy faces everywhere who enjoyed music that they created. They wished to come back with a stronger music and image. They promised to stay together until the end with Armys.

After each of the members bid their farewell individually, they were set to leave the stage but to their surprise someone ran up to the stage. The boys looked baffled since they assumed it was one of the floor managers, but she was charging to Jimin’s direction instead.

 Mortified, they could see securities running from different direction towards the stage. What on earth just happened? Fans in the arena were buzzing in curiosity as they tried to get a better view of the mystery girl on stage.

 SMACK!

 Jimin could feel his cheeks sting from the sudden attack, not once but twice.

 “JIMIN!” Seokjin screamed in agony.

 “WHAT THE HELL” Yoongi cussed as he quickly pulled Jimin behind him and eyed the girl dangerously close with anger.

 “WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?” he scowled. Other members reached confused Jimin, making sure he was protected and not being harassed even further.

 “Tae ah! Lets head to backstage! What just happened?” Yeoul stood in her seat and picked Minyeol up. The three of them squished between the crowd who seemed as confused as them and making their way to the backstage.

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