#hyper vivid and realistic dreams are something else

[des-no9]

still thinking about that Voss dream I had the other day. i felt i lived another life lol.

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S5 Ep 20: Yugi’s Senshi Outfit

So I’ve been doing a lot of work, and I haven’t looked at the blog for a hot minute and when I finally checked back in to do these posts I noticed something on my tumblr was just blowing up. I got all excited thinking “oh shoot, Did I draw something right??” and instead, it was a random post I made about the bootspants from season 1. Three years later, resurrected from the grave and covered in...thousands of notes? I don’t understand how this website works.

Anyways, the comments are mostly good, but a little bit wild. A lot of people seem to think I would know what Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure is, when I’m an adult who is still watching the first 5 seasons of Yugioh. (I will never have time to watch Jojo,) and then some other people started talking about Actual Card Mechanics that went...completely beyond my comprehension. But then there was one person. One person who said one thing, and brought it all together.

Poots.

The boots that are pants.

Poots.

I can’t believe I looked at all the different combinations, but a Poots never crossed my brain.

It is so perfect, so cathartic, although it took 3 years to get there.

Poots.

Anyways, we’re in S5 and unfortunately not in poots anymore, Yugi is now dressed in a tupperware container from hell and they have wandered into a desert. On cue, Grandpa has an injury, but at least this time it’s not his ass.

You know how there’s artists who do hyper-realistic versions of pokemon monsters with detailed bone structure and muscle anatomy? I dare them to look at this orb and tell me how the hell it has wings. Like go ahead and try and pin a spine down on that thing. I’ll wait.

(read more under the cut)

So Joey decides to sprint down this endless desert with just boundless positivity.

Over the edge of this sand dune is a whole bunch of huts,just random civilization out in the middle of no where.

One girl walks over and it’s a look.

She’s really the only one here who can talk, and she just seems...so incredibly bored to be here. A whole lot of Wednesday Addams energy. She leads them into a hut where an old guy pulls a scroll out of blue fire. As you do.

Again, this arc should have been a video game, because while it’s something to get the player interested if there’s some riddle they have to solve to progress, when you’re watching a TV show, it’s not like I’m the one solving the riddle. The format is honestly one of the downers of this arc, tbh.

It has strong “I played a D+D sesh and made a webcomic out of it vibe” and I know I just called out like half of you, but listen, I will not take it back.

This episode, our gimmick is some asshole is going to be yelling at us from the other end of the map, just shouting in the background for the entirety of the episode like that tangible human skull meme.

Then Wednesday Addams hands over yet another MacGuffin because why not?

Tea can twin it up with Yugi now. Her necklace doesn’t seem haunted, but it’s only a matter of time. (also her necklace looks so freakin terrible, we’ll see it later and I’ll have a lot more to say because wtf it looks like some sort of polly pocket.)

I’m not 100% that the voice that shouts at us from the end of the hall this episode is Mokuba’s voice actress. But I’m 99% positive it is, or Mokuba’s voice is just really that type of vibe.

Stuff happens, and it felt like card duel stuff, so I’m gonna skip over the part where they pulled out their duel monsters one by one, since the fight was pointless anyway because the worms can turn you into stone. So Yugi and Pharaoh decide to have a chat about it because their plan is clearly not working.

This is when Pharaoh has a vivid lucid daydream, which seems like something that would have been more convenient before he ended up turning into stone on the floor of some desert. But, hallucinations never come when they’re convenient on this show. They usually come during card games, tbh.

Imagine with me that you’re dreaming of like...an old ass greek guy who is 99% Alexander the Great. Imagine he tells you to fuse with a sentient paper card that you already carry around in a weird capsule.

Please

For the love of all that is holy

Do not think about what it means to fuse with the Dark Magician.

Dark Magician is...he “exists” but he’s like not even a person. There seem to be whole fleets of dark Magicians, which are all the same guy, just cloned, right? Or maybe they’re a family? Or like...I don’t freakin know. Like they’re all hanging out together in some card dimension so it’d be more like fusing with the guy who dresses like Barney the dinosaur instead of actually Barney. Like he’s more of like a concept than a dude, but apparently you can just introduce him to your...whatever this armor is supposed to be, and Dark Magician turns into a Super Suit.

I want to express my thanks to the Yugioh team for not putting Yami in his underoos. Hell, they didn’t even take off his jacket. I do not know what art directer ok’d this for animation and said “yeah, this won’t kills us if we animate it.” but that is a hell ton of lines and design right there. Yeah they have 3d, and probably had to 3d that staff...but that doesn’t mean you don’t end up drawing it, in the end--you still have to draw over your 3d. You still have to draw literally everything.

Anyway, when we get to the eye of the storm. The secret to getting there was that you have to fly, which again--3/5 of these guys already have a monster that can fly. We can finally tell the voice at the end of the hall to stop yelling because it’s really bothering all the townspeople, and then move on with the quest.

Everyone else was stone during this. So when they un-petrified they kinda looked over at Yugi and were like “how freakin long was I out???”

But youknow, Yugi’s 2 people, so it’s fine. So long as you don’t get down to the third bastard still sitting around in there.

After this, our NPCs vanish, and the show pushes us directly forward. No time for them to piss off a land turtle or set a bunch of wolves on fire. Just get out of the desert and freakin go.

I’m just so bothered by this random ass huge chunky necklace.

It’s like the size of your freakin fist. And it’s just...a pentagon. Congrats Tea, you have a fake ass plastic necklace. I guess it’s so that when we’re far away we can still see it on her chest but like...This show loves huge ass necklaces, and they’re all basic ass shapes. We got a pyramid, the Kaiba’s wear squares, Bakura wears a circle with kind of phallic bits hanging off of it and this is just...it’s literally just a pentagon.

I guess Ishizu wore a wadjet and Duke has an indecipherable clown as his necklace. But man...the Yugioh necklace game is just a lot of shapes.

And so we continue on with this filler arc, which is also a pokemon arc, and even secretly has a Sailor Moon arc just stuffed in there for funsies. This arc is weird.

Also, I brought up the human skull so I legally have to post this.

Anyway, here’s a link to read these in chrono order, in case you just got here: https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

And I’m off to drink a bin of ice water because it is 5 billion degrees right now in this house.

[nothingforrn]

Northern Downpour

CW- implied suicide, depersonalisation, implied parental fighting/abuse

A/N- well. i’ve been working on this for quite some time. thank you to @cupids-crystals for proofreading and giving me confidence to post this❤️

Life is a dream. A simulation, if you will. One where you only control one character, and that character is you. It’s disorienting at times, and it feels so real. But it’s not. Nothing is. Heartbreak, death. It’s all in your head. It’s in everyone’s head. But it’s not real. Don’t let the pain and emotions fool you. You can change them at any time.

It’s common knowledge that we are in a simulation, I think. No one argues with me when I bring it up. They just nod with a vacant look on their face, like they know too much yet nothing at the same time. Like they’ve seen something horrible. I’ve always disregarded the looks on their face. They only seem to have it around me. No smiles, just empty. I sometimes wonder if mine looks the same.

I only ever really feel alive at night, when I can see the man in the moon. My old friend. Sure, he never talks, but he’s always listened, ever since I was a child. I would talk to him about all of the yelling and drown out the screaming from downstairs, or wherever they were that night. I’d crawl on to the roof with my blanket and talk to the moon for hours.

On nights that I couldn’t see him, I’d draw him and talk to that. I’ve gotten a lot better at drawing the moon over the years. My room is covered in drawings of the moon, some more detailed than others, some were hyper realistic, and some looked like a child had drawn him. It all depended on how badly I needed him that night. Nights that I really needed someone to talk to, I put hours into detailing the moon, making sure everything was just right. I draw a new one every cloudy night or every new moon. It wasn’t the same, but he was there at least.

Every night, before I fell asleep, I’d whisper “Hey moon? Please forget to fall down”, in hopes he’d still be there when I woke up. He never was, unfortunately. He left me like everyone else does. But he came back most nights.

Tonight was different though. The moon was full and I had one thing on my mind. With my coat on, I walked as swiftly as possible to the bell tower, the tallest, oldest building in the town. I used to go there as a teen to get drunk or high. Tonight though, I brought nothing with me but a note. I took the old, creaky wood stairs one at a time, as if trying to imprint every little crack to memory.

Looking out at the top, I recall as many sunsets as I can remember, the vividness of the colours. How beautiful it all seemed. The oranges fading to purples, fading to the velvety black that coats the sky. I could hear the winter wind whistling in my ear, a high pitched sound I’ll never forget.

Clutching the note in my frozen hand, I read it once more.

“Hey Moon? Please forget to fall down.” was all it said

“Hey moon? Don’t you go down” I whispered as I let my foot dangle off the edge, holding on to a cold metal pipe. After one last, longing glance at the moon, I let go, listening to the high pitched screams of the wind.

[marshmallow-phd]

Accidental Miracle

Guardian Angels are everywhere. They look out for their charges and keep a distance. But why? What happens when they get too close? The answer is love. And between an angel and a human, it is the most forbidden connection.  

Genre: Angel!AU

Pairing: Kyungsoo x Reader

Summary: You were prone to daily accidents and you thought the fact that nothing came out of them just your own little miracles. But when you learn the truth behind your luck, you can’t help but be intrigued. Who is this mysterious angel assigned to protect you and why do you feel this pull for this person - this angel - you hardly know?

A/N: This was inspired by @wolveswithblackpearls reaction about exo guardian angels! Sometimes, my mind just can’t be stopped! This is the first in a series. I hope you enjoy! 

Update: And now @wolveswithblackpearls (admin s!) has made a beautiful moodboard to go along with the story! Thank you love! 

Kyungsoo I Sehun I Baekhyun I Jongin I Chanyeol I Junmyeon

You were not an easy charge to keep an eye on. A majority of the people in this world didn’t have their own personal guardian angel to watch over them. There weren’t enough angels for each individual human to have that kind of protection, but you were in a… special group. Accidents seemed to follow you everywhere.

There was that time you were almost hit with a crossbeam after you’d stopped right under a construction site to tie your shoe. Then there was the time when it was raining and you still decided to try and run through the crosswalk, only to slip and almost get hit by a car. And don’t even get him started on the time you managed to get stuck in an elevator. A brand new, recently inspected elevator. Only that would happen to you.

So, yes, watching over you was Kyungsoo’s full time job. And it gave him a headache on an almost daily basis. You never even suspected that there was a guardian angel following you everywhere you went, protecting you from the dangers you seemed to attract like a magnet. Or maybe more like a bright light drawing in the unsuspecting moths. On second thought, you were the gullible moth.

It wasn’t that he thought you were dumb or simple-minded. You’d impressed him on more than one occasion with your quick wit and problem solving skills. It was simply a case of you not always paying attention to your surroundings. And possibly a balance issue.

Kyungsoo had been watching you for years, getting to know your little habits and quirks to your personality. He considered himself a little lucky when it came to your personality. You were sweet and kind to even strangers on the street. It made watching over you more rewarding, even if he had to work a little harder.

Tonight you seemed to be giving Kyungsoo a much needed break, deciding to stay in and read a book rather than venture out into the dangerous nightlife.

Opening the door that led out to your balcony, you sat down the high-top patio chair while the other became your footrest. Throughout the evening, while the sun disappeared behind the city horizon, you sipped away at your lukewarm tea and flipped through the pages of your novel. Kyungsoo didn’t know the plot of the story, but he could read the emotions loud and clear on your face. When a character said something funny, you giggled. When a sad or tragic event occurred, you frowned and gasped. There must have been a particularly embarrassing scene since you covered your face with the book and let out a noise that was half way between a laugh and a groan.

Every once in a while, a strange feeling would bubbling in his chest. He quickly squashed it, unsure of what the cause of the sensation was. It felt like a hand was in his chest, squeezing at his heart. But it wasn’t a painful feeling, just a tightness. It had been occurring more and more lately and he didn’t know what to do. Angels didn’t have doctors nor did they get sick. And it was happening whenever he stared at you like this….

No. That wasn’t possible. Maybe it was simply the stress of guarding you that creating the sensation.

As the clock clicked closer and closer to midnight, your eyelids began to flicker and you bobbed your head, barely able to stay awake.

“Just go to bed,” Kyungsoo grumbled, knowing full well that you couldn’t hear him. You never saw him or heard his little comments. That’s how it was between an angel and their charge. It was a thankless job.

In defiance, you shook off the sleepiness and continued reading. You only made it about another page and a half before you nodded off completely. Kyungsoo rolled his eyes. Then you started falling out of the chair, your head aiming straight for iron rail. Jumping up from his spot, Kyungsoo flitted over to you, barely catching you in time and saving you from injury. Surely, you were going to be the death of him.

After contemplating for a second on what to do with you, he decided it was best to just put you to bed himself. In the morning, you would just think that you’d walked yourself to bed and were too tired to remember it. However, before Kyungsoo could make it halfway through your living room, you opened your eyes. You took one look at him and screamed.

**

You knew you shouldn’t have stayed up so late. Work had been exhausting, but you wanted to finish the chapter. You needed to know what was going to happen to the protagonist. Your body protested, however, and you nodded off out on the balcony. It couldn’t be pinpointed, what woke you up. But the movement you were experiencing was odd and so you opened your eyes to investigate.

As soon as you took in the man who was carrying you through your home, you screamed, scrambling to get out of his hold. You ran to the coffee table and picked up the remote. Silly as it was, it was the only weapon-like object in your vicinity.

“Who the hell are you!” you demanded, holding the plastic controller out in front of you.

The tilted his head to the side and frowned. “You can see me?”

“See you?” you echoed, unable to believe this reckless idiot. “Of course I can see you! I’m not blind! Have you seen anything in this house to conclude that I have a vision impairment?” You felt a little bad about pointing that out, but what else could he possibly mean by “see me”?

He shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Even with perfect vision, you shouldn’t be able to see me.”

Lowering the remote, you started to think a lunatic had broken into your apartment. Just your luck. “Do you think you’re the main character in an H.G. Wells novel or something?”

Instead of answering you, the man stalked towards you. Wanting to keep the distance as it was, you backed up until your legs hit the couch. The sudden collision made you fall back so you were now an actual sitting duck. He loomed over you, his face coming within centimeters of your own.

“This shouldn’t be possible,” he mumbled to himself.

You swallowed thickly. Not because you were scared – only a tiny part of you was actually terrified of this man, which, really it should be more than that – but because his close proximity was setting your very nerves off. His voice was like honey – smooth and deep. He could be talking about the most mundane things and you’d follow along just so you didn’t miss one syllable vibrating from his throat. Dark, obsidian-like eyes stared at you with curiosity. You knew he wasn’t someone who’d wandered in off the streets given the tailored white suit he was wearing. His black hair was cut short in a low-maintenance style that made his sharp chin and heart-shaped lips even more apparent.

Good lord, why couldn’t an ugly person have broken into your home?

None of your thoughts were rational at the moment. Maybe it was due to how tired you were. You couldn’t accurately discern the situation because your brain decision-making skills were fatigued. Yes, maybe that was it.

Or maybe you were still dreaming and this was one of those vivid, hyper-realistic-type dreams where everything felt real. But where the hell did your mind come up with him?

Finally giving you back your space, the man straightened up and took a small step back.

“Who are you?” you asked, mystified.

Folding his arms across his chest, his frown deepened. “I’m… your guardian angel.”

You snorted. “Yeah, okay. Sure you are.”

The so-called “angel” rolled his eyes. “Do you think I would go around in all white if I wasn’t?”

That was… a partially convincing argument. “Prove it.”

He sighed, clearly exasperated by your unwillingness to believe his story. With a snap of his fingers, the remote flew out of your fingers and landed in his with perfect aim. Your eyes widened and you jumped up to your feet, scurrying over to him to inspect the object. There were no strings or blades attached to it that could make it fly like it did.

“How did you do that?” you gasped.

“Angel,” was his oversimplified answer.

Narrowing your eyes, you looked behind him. There was nothing. Straightening back to look up at him, you asked, “Where are your wings?”

“They’re for emergencies only,” he stated dryly.

Well, that was no fun. Or an easy cover up. “I don’t see how that proves you’re an angel.”

Exasperated, he sighed. Then he began to glow. A blinding golden light outlined his figure and seemed to come from every inch of him. Okay. You believed him now.

You stepped back, putting room between you and the handsome guardian. One question left was pulling at the back of your mind. “So, are you just my guardian angel? Or am I just one in a long list of yours?”

“You… are a special case.”

Your ears perked up at that. Given the fact that it could be taken as either a good thing or bad, you weren’t sure how to take that answer. “A special case?”

He nodded. “Yes. Your life line was made to be long, but events keep trying to cut it short.”

“Someone’s trying to kill me?” In your momentary freak-out, you managed to step on the long duster you’d put on to keep you warm against the cold night air with your heel. You flailed to try and regain your balance, but it wasn’t enough and you braced yourself for the crash into the glass coffee table behind you. But it never came.

The angel managed to catch you by your wrist and wrapped his other arm behind your waist to steady you. It was a bit of an intimate position, making your face heat up from his close proximity once again.

Clearing your throat, you gently pushed out of his arms. “Thanks.”

“No one is trying to kill you,” he explained, clearly unaffected by what just happened – unlike you. “It’s your own affinity to create accidents or not pay attention that makes watching over you a pain.”

You stuck your tongue out at him childishly. “Well, if I’m such a pain, why don’t you switch with someone else?”

“I can’t. It doesn’t work like that.” Each time he spoke it came in monotone and his face showed very little sign of emotion beyond annoyance. Did he even know how to smile? You thought angels were supposed to be these bright, happy beings.

“Whatever,” you pouted. You yawned. Not too much longer and you’d be passing out again. “I’m going to bed. Hopefully my clumsiness won’t cause too much trouble for you while I’m asleep.”

The corner of the angel’s mouth twitched, making you double take, but he composed himself quick enough that you almost thought it was a trick of the light. Almost.

You waved at him, feeling a little silly. “Good night.”

He bowed his head. “Good night.”

Giving him one last look, you closed the door to your bedroom, effectively cutting him off from sight. Alone, you let your lips spread into a giant, ear-to-ear grin.

You had a guardian angel. You had a guardian angel. And a handsome at that.

**

As soon as your bedroom door was closed, Kyungsoo brought his hand up to his cheek, placing his palm against the skin to check for warmth. He was an angel, not a human, so he couldn’t really blush, but for a moment, when he was holding you, he thought he had.

In the past, every time he saved you, it’d been at a distance. A little angel magic and you were fine. But now – twice in one night – he’d caught you with his own hands. He’d never noticed how pretty your eyes were up close. They were wide and full of wonder just for him.

Kyungsoo shook his head. No. Those kinds of thoughts only led to trouble. Instead of going back “upstairs” like he normally did when you were sleeping, he sat down at your dining table. Snapping his fingers, he retrieved the book you had been reading earlier and opened it up to the first page. He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want to leave you alone tonight. So, he decided to stay and find out what was so fascinating about the story you’d been engrossed in to where you almost hurt yourself just be able to keep reading.

**

You were stunned when you woke up in the morning to find your angel was still around. And real. Very, very real.

He was sitting at the table, leafing through your current read. His face was still has stoic as ever as his eyes flitted across the page. You wanted to know if he was enjoying the story, but nothing gave away the thoughts floating in his head. At some point, he’d removed his jacket to reveal the pristine button down underneath. He’d even rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, making your heartbeat pick up.

“Do you like it?” you asked as you loomed over his shoulder.

Without looking up at you, he shrugged and closed the book. That was it?

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes at him as you walked over to your fridge. “Are you hungry?” you offered.

Shaking his head, he turned around to watch you pull ingredients of the shelves. “I don’t need to eat.”

“Well, that’s sad,” you chuckled. Oh, well. More for you.

After breakfast, you got ready for the day, showering and whatnot. Just before you headed out the door, you turned to the angel. “Are you going to follow me around all day?”

“It’s my job,” he deadpanned.

You nodded in reply. He left the apartment with you, leaving behind his jacket. This was going to be interesting.

When he said that he was going to follow you around for the day, he really meant follow.

As you walked down the sidewalk, careful not to run into any of the other pedestrians, the angel kept a good distance of at least five feet behind you. For a few blocks you put up with it, but soon you couldn’t take it anymore. Stopping in your tracks, you reached out and took his hand, pulling him up next you. He looked at you with horror before yanking his hand away.

“People are going to think you’re stalking me,” you explained as you stepped up to the crosswalk. “At least that way, they’ll just think we’re a couple.”

“We’re not a couple,” Kyungsoo argued.

“I said think.”

A little over his attitude, you took a step out onto the street. Just a second later, the angel was pulling you back, getting you out of the way just in time to avoid colliding with a bicyclist who was going way too fast down the road.

You glanced at the angel. “I’m considering that one your fault.”

“My fault?” he scoffed.

All you did was nod once before crossing the street. You only made it another block before you tripped over a bench because you were too busy looking at the window displays. Sighing, the angel took your hand once again, this time keeping a firm grasp on your fingers.

“If it keeps you from hurting yourself,” was his only explanation. You couldn’t help the smile spreading on your face. His hand was warm and strong and you liked how it felt to have his palm against your own. Were you developing a crush on your guardian?

“What’s your name, by the way?” you asked quietly.

“Kyungsoo.”

“Kyungsoo,” you repeated. You liked that name. It fit him very well. Very well, indeed.

“Where are you going?” Kyungsoo asked after a few minutes of silence.

“The museum,” you replied. “They, um, have a new exhibit that I want to see.”

When you arrived at the museum, the advertisements of the newly arrived gallery of paintings was plastered all over the windows and LED signs. You were given the dirtiest look you’d ever seen in your life. Kyungsoo, angel or not, could be a little scary with that look. You smiled back innocently. “What?”

He rolled his eyes at you but didn’t fight when you dragged him inside.

All the new paintings and sculptures revolved around the same theme: the archangels. You weren’t lying when you said you’d wanted to see the new exhibit. You’d heard about it weeks ago and had this day planned on your calendar since. The fact that you happened to have a real angel next to you while you wandered around was just a coincidence.

Kyungsoo put up with your slow study of each artwork for an hour or so. Maybe because he was bored or because he didn’t feel like being around you anymore, he decided to leave.

“I thought you were supposed to follow me and keep me out of trouble?” you teased.

“I have something I need to do,” he insisted. “Besides, I hope you can keep out of trouble in a museum.” He gave you a very pointed look.

“Yes, sir,” you snarked. “I’ll be fine. Go… do whatever you’ve got to do.” You waved him off and turned back to the painting closest to you like you really didn’t care. Even though you did. A lot. Because while you didn’t really know this angel, you felt like you did. His presence was too familiar to you, like you’d subconsciously known that he was there all along. You didn’t want him to go, but you didn’t argue.

“I’ll be back.” Kyungsoo placed a hand on your shoulder, looking you in the eye. There was a plea hidden in there, a softness that he hadn’t shown you before. “Please, stay out of trouble.”

“I promise.”

He nodded with a sigh and disappeared. Looking around, you decided to head up the stairs to the second floor where most of the sculptures were on display. You doubted any of them could compare to the real thing, but you would give them a chance, at least.

**

Kyungsoo knew he should be leaving you alone, but he needed… space. That strange sensation that had been occuring more and more lately while he was around you was flaring up again, stronger than ever. Watching you admire the paintings with that sparkle in your eye was too much for him. He shouldn’t be thinking about you in this way.

He was just outside the museum. There was no way he could go too far with you being even more of a walking disaster than normal today. But he figured standing just outside the main doors was enough of a hiding space for now.

Leaning his head back, he watched as the white puffs of clouds slowly drifted across the blue sky. Maybe this was why angels weren’t supposed to be assigned to a single human. No matter how hard he tried to fight against it, he still found himself getting attached. He decided that he liked being by your side instead of a few feet behind. He liked holding your hand and seeing you smile. He especially liked hearing you say his name.

A grin appeared on his lips as he thought about the way you said his name. So clear and content. Yes. He liked that very much.

A scream pulled Kyungsoo out of his thoughts and he ran back inside. Almost everyone seemed to be running up the stairs. Frantically searching, he could only conclude that you were on the second floor already when he couldn’t find you. Bypassing the panicking crowd, Kyungsoo disappeared and reappeared on the floor above. His eyes widened in fear when he discovered what the commotion was about.

Somehow, one of the statues outside had toppled over, destroying the glass barrier that kept patrons from falling off the balcony. You must have been caught in the crash as you were now hanging on for dear life to the edge of the crumbling floor. Everyone stared at you in horror, yapping amongst themselves, but no one moved to help you in fear of slipping off the edge as well.

“Kyungsoo!” You reached out to him with one hand while trying to keep a grip on the concrete.

He ran forward to pull you up, but you slipped, letting out a high pitched scream as you fell to your doom. Kyungsoo kept running until he jumped off the balcony. His wings burst out of their hiding place and expanded to their full span. They did their duty, helping him soar through the air to catch you and then taking off away from the witnesses who would have only seen you fall and then disappear.

Kyungsoo didn’t land until he reached your apartment. The wings hid away once again and he set you down on your feet. Your fingers clung to his shirt as you struggled to even your breathing. He cradled your face in his hands to make sure you weren’t seriously hurt. “Are you okay?”

You gave a trembling nod. “Yes, I’m fine.”

Dropping his hands, he huffed. “You touched it, didn’t you?”

“No!” you exclaimed. “I swear. It fell on its own!”

“On its own? How can I believe that?”

In anger, you threw your purse down to the ground. “It’s the truth! I was just leaning up against the railing to rest! I don’t know how it fell! Stop blaming me for everything that happens!”

Kyungsoo shook his head and his hand over his hair. “I swear, one of these days….”

That was apparently the wrong thing to say.

“If watching over me is such a pain then why don’t you just let the cosmos or whatever is constantly making these accidents have me and just leave!” You threw the balcony door open, slamming it behind you once you were inside and ran for your room.

Knowing he had messed up, Kyungsoo followed after you. The door was locked and he could hear you sniffling on the other side. On one hand, he could just poof his way into your room. On the other, he knew that would just make it worse.

“Please, let me in,” he begged softly.

“No!” you snarled back at him. “Go away!”

“I can’t.”

You scoffed. “Why? Because someone said so?”

“Because I love you.” He winced as he said those words out loud. That was breaking their biggest rule, the angels’ greatest law. But he couldn’t deny it anymore. Especially if admitting the truth would mean you let him stay.

Slowly, the door crept open, just a crack. He could see just a line of your face: your eye, half your mouth, a bit of your forehead. It was something, at least. “What?”

“I’m sorry I got upset,” he said. “I’ve never been so scared to lose you before. I’d always been right there to save you and this time… I thought I might have been too late.”

You opened the door all the way now. Tear stains trailed down both of your cheeks. You didn’t flinch away when Kyungsoo reached out to wipe them away. Encouraged, he reached out with his other hand as well, cupping your jaw in his palms. He inched closer, moving at a pace that gave you enough time to pull away if you so wished. But you stayed put, letting him brush his lips against yours before adding more pressure, really kissing you.

He'd never done anything like this before. But he knew he wanted to do it again and again. For now though, he would end it here.

At some point during the kiss, your eyes had closed. Now that he’d pulled away, they flickered back open, staring up at him wide and curious.

“Is that even allowed?” you whispered.

Kyungsoo couldn’t help the small laugh. “No,” he answered honestly. Needing you closer to him, he pulled you into a hug. “But it’ll be alright. I promise.” He had no idea how he was going to make it alright, but since he’d already broken the number one rule, he’d be fine with breaking a few more to stay with you.

You smiled at him. He loved that smiled, especially now that you were showing it just for him. “I believe you.”

“I love you,” he repeated, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb. “I know you don’t know me well enough, yet, but I know you so well. And I love you for it.”

Blush exploded across your cheeks. “Well, I’m definitely getting there.”

When he saw you all those years ago, he would have given anything to not be the one in charge of watching over you. But over time, he found that he was meant to be by your side. And he would keep you with him, keep you safe. After all, he was your guardian angel.

[watusichris]

“Payday”: Rip Torn’s finest hour

In honor of the late Rip Torn, a story about a great performance, originally published by Trunkworthy. **********

As a onetime disc jockey in what was euphemistically referred to as a “medium-sized market,” I can testify to the verisimilitude of a telling scene in Daryl Duke’s remarkable 1973 drama Payday.

In the sequence, the film’s anti-hero, third-tier country singer Maury Dann (Rip Torn), stops by Montgomery, Alabama, radio station WHHY to pay an obligatory visit to DJ Bob Dickey (Earl Trigg). Looking to boost his airplay, Dann arrives bearing an insincere smile, a box filled with quail he has shot and a fifth of Wild Turkey, and a couple of copies of his LP Payday. He exchanges well-rehearsed on-air pleasantries about the jock’s family. Unctuous good ol’ boy Dickey braces the reluctant Maury to appear at a local show he’s promoting; barely maintaining his cool, the enraged musician parries the announcer’s every insistent thrust.

As penned by the wildly underrated novelist Don Carpenter, who also co-produced the feature, this sharply-observed scene is right on the money in its depiction of the unspoken, hackle-raising negotiations that take place among music biz bottom-feeders. Like the rest of the film, it’s as vivid and lingering as the smell of cheap perfume and Tiparillo smoke clinging to a polyester cowboy shirt.

Shot for less than $800,000 and indifferently distributed, Payday never had a chance at the box office; its tough, uncompromising, and hyper-realistic depiction of country music’s underbelly mitigated against widespread popular acceptance. Two years later, Robert Altman would use country for his massive canvas in Nashville and garnered universal acclaim. However, by sticking to the grass roots and driving the back routes of the music, Payday offered a fiercely-drawn character study that plays truer and deeper today than its award-winning successor.

Much of the picture’s considerable power derives from the central performance of Rip Torn, who plays a country musician quite unlike the standard cinematic issue. Tearjerking, Oscar-winning performances like those by Robert Duvall in Tender Mercies or Jeff Bridges in Crazy Heart are the norm; the repentant alcoholic country outlaw brought back to life by the love of a good woman has become the prevailing movie cliché. Torn’s Maury is something else again: a raging, manipulative, and extremely dangerous sociopath who will trample anyone in his selfish pursuit of pleasure. It’s a testament to the actor’s skill that this outrageous, repellant figure sustains not only our fascination, but even enlists a bit of our sympathy.

Payday begins with Maury crooning his song “Country Girl” – written, like most of the film’s tunes, by Shel Silverstein, whose “A Boy Named Sue” became Johnny Cash’s biggest hit in 1969 – for the frowsy patrons of a roadhouse dive called Mr. Ed’s. It follows the singer’s life over the course of the next 36 hours, during which he veers toward a show in Birmingham in a cowhide-upholstered Cadillac, in the company of his devoted driver (Cliff Emmich), his blowsy girlfriend (Ahna Capri), and a dim-witted aspiring groupie (Elayne Heilveil). Along the way, he chugs bourbon, gobbles pills, commits multiple infidelities, fires his handgun, torments his drug-addicted mother and bitter ex-wife, sloughs off his most intimate relationships, and offhandedly commits a shocking crime. He even finds time to write a song. He’s a satanic Hank Williams on a terminal hellride.

It’s a scorched-earth turn by Torn, who today is better known for his character roles in the Men in Black series and TV’s The Larry Sanders Show. In the ‘60s and ‘70s, he was a formidable (albeit oddball) leading man, and his work here snaps your head back. But he is more than matched by some of the lesser-known supporting players, who deftly embody damaged small-town souls grasping at the country dream. The highlight of the film may be a quiet, overwhelmingly affecting scene between Emmich and Heilveil; the conversation is about making omelets and the deficiencies of Teflon-coated pans, but it’s really about the vacuity of their lives. Here, screenwriter Carpenter seems to be saying, are the people that country songs are written about.

[verngyu-moved]

war, tome, and crown || ch. iii

pov: second person (mxr; gender neutral reader insert) ⟡ word count: 5.8k ⟡ genre: adventure, fantasy, romance ⟡ rating: pg-13 ⟡ warnings: mild cussing, death mentions, almost dying lol?, drowning, body horror, alcohol

⟡ CHAPTER 3 ⟡

“Your Majesty, get back!” Cheol shouts at you from behind. You’re old enough to look after yourself, even if the tip of this boy’s sword seemed to be winking at you with its shine. A few of the boys from the other group call out the long-haired one’s name, Jeonghan, as an urgent warning. You drink in his pastel dandelion tunic, a matching yellow belt around his waist with its ends tied behind him, which droop all the way to his dark brown boots. As your eyes made their way up to his upturned collar, the smug grin on his rosy lips grew. “Y/N.” a familiar voice calls out, and you shift your gaze to see one of your retainers, Seokmin, dawning his usual sapphire tunic, with matching pants and silver knee-high boots. His left shoulder is protected by a small piece of metal armor, a tattered white cape behind him. Azure hair is slightly disheveled as it covers one of his eyes partly. “Seokmin.” you gasp, hand coming up to cover your mouth as you spot your retainer. Tears fill your eyes, voice shaking as you see your other two retainers, the raspberry-haired Soonyoung and platinum-blonde Seungkwan on either side of him, “Soonyoung. Seungkwan.” Ignoring the rather tense moment at hand, you run past Jeonghan to wrap your arms around all three of them, “Gods, how I missed all of you.”

“That’s the real-?...” Jeonghan wonders aloud before you hear him place his sword back in its sheath, the sound of the metal clanging rings in the still, humid summer air. “We didn’t know if you were alive.” Seungkwan whispers, his arms taut as he envelops you in an embrace. He’s the most sensitive and gentle of the three, so he seems glad to be in the center of your hug. You don’t know why you’re surprised they all look the same, it’s not as if it’s been months since you’ve seen them—just a few days—but you take a few moments to take in Soonyoung’s and Seungkwan’s appearances. Soonyoung, carrying his red axe which is quite literally on fire (a feature he’d acquired after coming to the aid of many dragon-like deities), with flame-like patterns carved out of its gold head, welded into cherry wood for its handle. He’s also wearing his typical getup, a plain white shirt under honey denim overalls. A belt’s loosely wrapped around his waist, with pieces of armor strapped to each arm and both shins, and you figure they’ve been treading a far different path by looking at his muddy knee-high amber boots. Seungkwan has on a long sleeve fern green tunic with dramatic coattails extending to his calves. Underneath he wears pants of a darker pine color, with black leather boots. Often in the winter he switches out his plain boots for identical ones with added fur at the top, but seeing as you’re all sweating in the dead of night in the middle of July, there’s no use for them now. Seungkwan’s hand loosens around the gold stock of his lance, the crystal point looking like an upside-down V, its iridescence shimmering even in the dim tent.

“Your Majesty.” Soonyoung says softly before all three of them, as if in sync, slip from your embrace to kneel on the ground, their gazes settling on the grass. Face feeling hot, you look around at the ten pairs of eyes following your every move, every slight micro-expression, suggesting, “Ah...guys, you don’t need to...” “Please forgive us.” Seokmin’s face is completely parallel to the ground, and none of them are moving an inch. Your stomach does a backflip and you blink a couple times, feeling light-headed. Suddenly feel like you’re standing in a puddle of saltwater, your body feels ice cold. “We couldn’t…They…” Seungkwan sniffles, words sounding nasally. The puddle’s getting bigger. The water keeps coming; it’s up to your knees now. “We failed to protect your mother and father.” Oh Gods. It’s at your waist, you’re swimming in the ocean alone, lost at sea. No, wait. You don’t feel lost at sea, you are lost at sea. Almost as if you’re dreaming, you know you’re in a tent in the plains of Midmire, but you’re lost in your own consciousness. The whole thing feels incredibly vivid to your senses, like a hyper-realistic lucid dream. “They’re dead.” one of them says. You’re not sure who—you don’t care. They’re dead. They’re dead. They’re dead. They’re dead. They’re...

“Y/N…” Cheol calls your name, but you swing your head up, to look at the blue, sunny sky where his voice is coming from. How are you supposed to get all the way up there? Especially when this water keeps getting higher? As the air remains completely still, you try to talk, but nothing comes out. Grasping your vocal chords, mute screams jump from your vocal chords and sink into the water below you, immobilizing you like an anchor. Helpless, you look up to the heavens. “S-Something’s wrong!” Seungkwan yells, a voice once again coming from the clouds, its echo vibrating the surface of the water. Your legs frantically flounder, trying to keep yourself from drowning, but you watch as the day becomes night and the ocean swallows you whole. What you can only assume is screaming ripples through the dark water, so much screaming, it’s muffled and words, too, are being exchanged but you can’t make any of them out. It’s like you’re a genie in a bottle, sucked into a miniscule space, suffocating even though there’s nothing and nobody else in there with you. A cold glow fills your blood, and you lift your hands to watch a white fiery plasma pulsate through your veins. It’s so violent you feel as though your entire body is suffering from a massive migraine. None of this is normal, but yet it feels so familiar—like it’s innate.

“Somnio!” a booming voice breaks clearly through the dark still waters.

And then you sleep.

⟡|⟡|⟡|⟡|⟡

You grumble a few times, hands shooing away the burning sensation on your forehead. You think to yourself that your head feels uncomfortable on this hard and stiff surface before groaning some more. “Are you awake?” Soft speech tiptoes into your ears while a few deep voices quietly chatter, and even though it’s relatively hushed, it all forms one big tumbleweed of conversation, making your head pound. Well I feel like shit. You remember that one time you felt extremely bold (is bold the right word?) when you were well under Matrona’s legal drinking age, going through your first four bottles of wine in one night. You felt close to the grave the next day, barely making it through the worst hangover of your life. That kinda feels like this, plus the sensation as if you’ve been left out in the snow while naked for hours. Your eyelids flutter open, irises meeting the looming figure whose lap your head is propped up on—Minghao. His charcoal hair is pushed out of his eyes, and for the first time he seems friendly. His hooded eyes seem inviting, like a cozy bed, wide as your gaze drifts to the rounded tip of his nose, then to his soft cheeks, then to his cupid bow lips. Unsure why you’re taking so much time studying his face, you snappily sit up on the patch-riddled blanket laid out under you and Minghao, your forehead just barely missing his along the way.

“Are you okay?” he asks, seemingly oblivious to you checking his physical attributes out just moments earlier. Was he nursing you back to health while you were sleeping? “W-What...What happened?” your breathing picks up as soon as you realize it’s just Cheol, Jeonghan, Minghao, and you under the stars. You know it’s summer and you can feel the heat around you, but the cold inside you causes you to shiver, making it impossible not to stutter. You look behind you to Cheol and Jeonghan as they sit next to Minghao around the crackling flames that are just a few feet away, where they had stopped mid-conversation to watch you awaken. You turn around slowly towards all three of them, poorly enunciated syllables sloppily racing from your numb lips, “Where is everyb…-body? Where are m-my retainers?” “Hey, hey, hey,” Cheol raises one hand like he’s trying to soothe a rambunctious horse, “They’re fine, everyone is eating dinner inside the tent. You need your rest…” he tells you, reaching over Minghao to press his calloused hand to your forehead, making you feel as though you’ve been shocked by a surge of electricity. Was this because his touch was embarrassing or because it was it scorching hot? Maybe it was both. “Great Mila, Minghao!” almost like he had touched a hot pan, he jerks his hand back, shooting an accusing look at his comrade before turning his attention back to you, “Y/N, you’re freezing!” “I’m trying.” Hao says through gritted teeth, glaring at Cheol. He eases the strain on his voice to coax you back to his lap as if you didn’t just hear his miffed griping, “Your Grace, please.”

No, it’s too embarrassing! you whine to yourself, instead trying to change the subject. “T-tell me what happened first.” “But Y/N-” Cheol begins to protest, but you cut him off. “That’s an order f-from the only s-surviving Matronan r-royalty. And I’m f-freezing, so it better be q-quick.” Cheol sighs and exchanges a stunned look with Jeonghan (who smirks) before raising his eyebrows at you in a look of disbelief, “You know I’m still pissed at you, right?” “Irrelevant.” You dismiss his question matter-of-factly, appreciating that Cheol cares about your well-being, but not knowing what the hell is happening—or rather what had happened—is itching at the back of your mind. He takes in a deep breath, the four of you completely silent, the only sound being the logs burning. “You had a...psychic temper tantrum, so to speak.” “What e-exactly does that m-mean?” As if in sync, both Cheol and Jeonghan slowly pivot their heads and look at Minghao, to whom you, too, are now looking to for an explanation.

“You had an overwhelming response to some traumatic news in your life, thus awakening your magic abilities. Your light magic abilities, to be specific. It’s not unheard of for some mages to realize their powers until they have a need to be summoned—like in cases of self defense. But this was...unbelievable. Some of the strongest raw magic I’ve ever felt. “I’ve never seen someone’s eyes such a bright white, and-and your veins! They were glowing through your skin, it was incredible, really.” Minghao’s never seemed this excited about anything before—no scratch that, you’ve never seen him excited, period. He speaks at such a fast pace you barely can process what he’s saying. You—with magical abilities. You—a light mage. He clears his throat before continuing, wiping off the half-smile that has formed on his lips, “Anyways. So, I put you to sleep since you-” correcting himself at once, “...your magic became a threat to everyone’s safety...Doing that took a lot of my strength. ” Oh, you think, Minghao also needed to rest, which makes you feel even worse.

Upon seeing the grave look on your face, Seungcheol quickly chimes in, voice low and delicate, “No one got hurt.” “I...I’m s-sorry. I d-didn’t mean to h-hurt anybody.” once again, the badly articulated words fall from your lips. You distort Minghao’s words in your head, torturing yourself: You’re a threat to everyone’s safety. It repeats again and again in your mind, with each instance you hear your own voice say it, it somehow hurts more—the last thing you wanted to do was cause anyone trouble. You think back to yesterday, when your total word count at the end of the day was a smaller number than the hours the group had traveled on foot. All because you didn’t want to bother anybody, just wanted to create as little change in their lives as possible before you met up with your mother and father and never saw them again. You had desperately wanted them to smoothly transition back to their own normal lives, regardless of how immoral or illegal you believed theirs was. Not like any of that matters now, you have no home and no family. All you have left are your retainers who have been your only friends for years. You will yourself not to cry as you realize that they’re your family now. But was this all just a nightmare? Yeah, I dreamt up that my kingdom was overthrown and my parents were killed. Right. What did I drink before bed to give me such a vivid and horrific nightmare?

“Hey,” Cheol twists his neck so his eyes are meeting yours, and you hadn’t even realized your focus had darkened while shifting to gaze upon the dirt ground, “Don’t beat yourself up too much.” Minghao cocks his head to the side to look you in the eyes, while you notice his tome sitting snugly in his lap. Filling in the blanks, you assume Cheol had given it back to him while you slept, and then Minghao had made it a makeshift pillow of sorts for your head, “I knew something was different about you when I tried to cast a hex to calm you down, and you somehow resisted it. But this...this definitely confirmed it.” Your jaw falls open. That’s right. How did I know that? And how did I resist it?

“Let me warm you up.” Minghao takes notice of your shaking jaw clacking from the ice in your veins, and thinking of how many ways this action could be perceived, you quickly decline. Taking a hint, Jeonghan, who’s been completely mute this entire time, stands up and pats Cheol’s shoulder, signaling him to follow suit, “I’m sure Minghao could fill you in on the rest.” “Wait-” Cheol protests, but he’s helpless against Jeonghan, who places both hands on his back and pushes him forward. They’re both awfully comfortable with each other, but it only makes sense. They’re old friends, and by the looks of it, they’re pretty close. The two of you watch as both of them head into the tent, greeted rowdily by the rest of the boys, which is probably thanks to some form of alcohol. “Come here.” Minghao beckons, encouraging you to scoot closer to him. He loosens his black velveteen cloak and drapes it over your shoulders. You feel your face reddening, but you do as he says when he gently tells you to put your hands together. You ball up one fist and cover it with the opposite hand, thumb coming to rest on top the other. He raises his hand in the direction of the fire, softly whispering, “Magisio.” And the fire livens up, the heat more intense and comforting.

Your hands still clasped together, you begin to wonder why he told you to do so until he says, “Benevolenska ignisin,” a tiny flame hovering over his palm. “This won’t hurt, I promise.” You watch in awe, until he somewhat frightens you by rather forcibly grabbing your hands to hold them in his own. “S-sorry.” he apologizes, barely audible. “That’s okay.” you mumble, face turned away from him. Your is heart beating wilder than ever, and you pray to the Gods that he can’t tell. “I thought that was pretty cool...what you did.” Minghao softly states suddenly. “W-what? Lose control?” You let out a single chuckle. “No.” he replies, annoyance in his voice—you assume it’s because he doesn’t want to be misunderstood, “Royals usually sit back and watch people die for their cause. Seeing you step up and put your own life on the line was refreshing.” “I think it was d-dumb.” you retort, admitting your shame to him, knowing he wouldn’t judge, almost certain he doesn’t care enough about you to do so anyways. You choose not to focus too much on his hands that wrap around yours, and his cloak around your shoulders, even if both are helping raise your body’s temperature a lot.

“Well, I don’t think that’s your fault...” You remain quiet, unsure if you’re being taken seriously because of the stuttering. But perhaps Minghao gives you something to consider, or rather, offered an optimistic perspective. Which is unexpected from him, quite frankly. A minute or so passes until Hao reignites the conversation. “Just so you know, Seungcheol isn’t only mad at you because you put everyone else in danger. He’s also mad that put yourself in danger.” You remain silent, confused as to why he would care so much. You’d only known each other for a few days. Then again, they were a few life-altering days. Guess it’s true that people bond over shared traumas. “I can tell he feels responsible for you. Especially now with your parents…” he hesitates finishing his sentence out of sensitivity, so you decide to finish it for him. “Gone.” The scene of Seokmin, Seungkwan, and Soonyoung kneeling before you paints itself in your mind, the memory so vivid and fresh it’s like it’s happening in front of you all over again. You aren’t mad at them—not one bit. You know without the full tale that all three of them were loyal to your kingdom and protected your parents until the end. The more you think about it, the more you feel sorry for them. A retainer’s one and only duty is to protect their assigned royalty—even if that means sacrificing their own life. Seeing as all of them came out alive, had faced the loss of their king and queen firsthand, and failed to keep their only sworn vow, they’re probably beating themselves up just as much as you are right now.

Minghao waits a moment before responding, choosing his words carefully, “Yeah. I’m...I’m sorry.” “It seems like a lot of us are cursed with losing our parents. There should be a club for that or something.” you jump after you finish speaking, wanting to take back what you’d just said, “Oh. I’m so sorry, that was insensitive.” He lets out a guttural chuckle, taking you by surprise, and soon you’re mirroring him, letting out a small giggle while his black ink stained fingers tighten around yours. It’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh, so you couldn’t let yourself miss the view, turning your head to see the accompanying grin, which is just as beautiful as you had expected. His eyes narrow and the puffiness underneath them bend to form little smiles. When it’s rare for someone to laugh or smile, the more fulfilling it is when it happens—especially if it’s because of you. Needless to say, you feel very fulfilled right now. “No, that was funny. I liked it.” he reassures, turning to face you, two pairs of eyes meeting. You note his humor matches his magic, his eyes, his hair—dark. Both of you stare at each other for a few moments, not saying anything, before Minghao swallows a lump in his throat, turns back towards the bright orange fire, and slips his hands from yours, the flame dying out in his palm, “Are you feeling better?” “Yes, thank you.” In an effort to fill the silence and ignore your heart pounding recklessly, you recall a bit of something he said earlier, “Oh, by the way…” “Yeah?” His head begins to turn towards you but stops, and your gaze doesn’t leave him, knowing he’s looking in your direction although you can’t see his eyes. Continuing on, you declare, “That stuff you said earlier...about my skin glowing and all that. That was in my dream.” “Your dream?” His eyes finally meet yours again, and even though it’s not the first or the second time, his attention on you still makes your heart skip a beat. “Yeah.” you gulp tensely, “I had this weird dream that I was in this puddle and it was daytime, and then as I realized the puddle I was standing in became an ocean, it turned into night. And there was screaming, and...” moving on as you decide it isn’t a great idea to relive the more haunting parts of it, “I couldn’t talk? And I was drowning in the ocean, and that’s when my veins started to glow and I could see them through my skin.” Minghao remains still, not even batting a lash at something you consider ridiculous, your fingers tensing up as he tells you, “That wasn’t a dream.” “Then what was it?” “It’s your Magicae Locus.” taking in your raised eyebrow and mouth slightly agape, this signals him to extrapolate, “Your Magicae Locus. It’s a place your subconscious creates to tie your physical self to the magic buried within you. Think of it as in between astral projection and lucid dreaming.”

Feeling inquisitive, you prod him on, “So what exactly does that mean?” “Each mage has visited their Magicae Locus when they were just starting to learn magic. When you visit yours it opens a portal, so to speak, to allow your physical body to produce, manipulate—et cetera—magic. It’s essentially where your mind goes when your powers awaken. Besides that, it’s not meant much for anything else.” He holds his hands up to the crackling and sizzling fire just a meter away before his fingers tangle together, hands arranging themselves in his lap. “It felt real, right? Like you actually were there even though you also knew you were really someplace else.” “Yes!” your eyes widen as you learn somebody else understands and you snap your fingers, grabbing his attention, “That’s exactly how it felt.” “See?” his voice is calm, but a large huff of air escapes his mouth, and you realize you probably startled him. “Magicae Locus.” Wanting to progress with the conversation since you feel slightly embarrassed upon seeing his alarmed state, you ask, “Can that portal be closed?” Your fingers grip his cloak to bring it back over your shoulder since it had slipped sometime during the conversation. He blinks a few times while a puzzled look moves across his features. A few small moments pass without him saying anything, and you begin to think it’s because he doesn’t know the answer, but he finally responds, “Of course. Anything that can be opened can be closed. I’ve never heard of a mage ‘closing the portal’ though. I have heard of a mage inserting themselves into somebody else’s Magicae Locus and cutting off that person’s connection. But I’d assume to do it, there has to be an insane amount of magic, and a brilliantly powered mage at the source of it.” “I’m just curious.” you blurt out, since you know he would have asked anyways.

A few more moments pass in reticence, and even though you feel like you know Hao better now, nonetheless you still feel jittery around him. “Hey, can I ask you something?” “Shoot.” you watch as Minghao goes back to his same old blank expression. “Will you teach me magic?” the words fall from your throat, and your heart feels uneasy knowing there’s a big chance you’ll be rejected. In your head, you say a word of apology to your poor heart who’s been through a lot today. His chin tilts slightly in your direction, “You want me…to teach you magic?” “Yes...please.” your shoulders perk up, as you draw in a large breath. You’ve been reading about light magic for a while now, you know its origins, its different uses...just not how to control it. Well, obviously, as shown by certain events earlier tonight. “Light and dark magic are somewhat different. I’m not sure if I’d be any help.” he replies, and you slump, kicking yourself on the inside for getting your hopes up, even for a second. “But…” You turn to look at him, wide-eyed and expectantly as the flames of the campfire move across the different highs and lows of his face, like flesh topography. “I can try.” “Really?” your lips curl to form an ear-to-ear grin, and for the first time you feel like you catch a glimpse of Minghao’s gentle side. I mean, who in their right mind would offer to teach magic to someone they just met a few days ago? “Yeah, sure…I mean, if I can find the time t-?” “Oh Minghao, thank you, thank you, thank you!” your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, and he lets out an odd noise of surprise, one that isn’t natural or familiar.

“You guys about done out here?” Cheol’s voice says from behind you, causing both Hao and you to jump. Your arms fall to your side and the two of you stand up. “Gods, Cheol! You scared the hell out of me!” Minghao shouts, and you watch as Seungcheol’s face that’s riddled with a scowl snatches the cloak curtained around you into his fist before shoving it into Minghao’s chest. “Are you hungry?” Cheol shifts his attention to you, explaining they have several rabbits worth of grilled meat lying in the tent. You haven’t eaten yet, and are feeling exponentially better, so you decide to head on in and enjoy a nice meal.

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The whole tent is explosive with laughter, and for only the second time this whole journey you feel relaxed. The two groups are mingling, Wonwoo is soliciting with some of the other boys whose names you still don’t know. Jeonghan is talking to Chan as Seungcheol plops down beside him. Time seems still for a moment as your eyes take in the scene before you, not missing the dishes set out for dinner. Trays of fruit, lightly cooked tan meat (no doubt the rabbit Cheol had talked about), white rice, and carrots scatter around the length of the table. What is it with these guys and carrots? At the middle stand seven bottles of white zinfandel, three of which seem to be open and empty. Minghao has made himself comfortable next to Mingyu, you watch on in intrigue as they clink chalices, grinning as they enjoy each other’s presence. “Can I sit here?” you ask Soonyoung, voice slightly raised to reach above the babble, hand coming down to rest on the empty space of table next to Soonyoung. All three of your retainers are sitting together in a row across the table from Jun, who’s chatting up two more young men you don’t recognize. His brown eyes peek out beneath his rose pink locks to meet your gaze for a split second before swiftly looking down, “Yes, of course, Y/N.” Swinging your legs over the maple wood bench to slip your legs underneath, Seungkwan gasps out your name, and by the time you finish getting comfortable, you’re looking at him but by the time you try to meet his gaze he’s hard at work eating his food, eyes frantically roaming around the tent. Seokmin is seated next to Seungkwan, who feels the younger’s awkward sudden movements and shifts himself around to ask if he’s okay. Seungkwan whispers something to him before Seokmin looks you in the eyes, and then mimics Seungkwan’s elusive and uneasy behavior.

“Um.” you clear your throat, Soonyoung meeting your eyes. By his stiff body language, he’s obviously feeling fearful but you figure he’s too afraid to look away. Or perhaps he’s afraid you’ll do something brash, so he’s keeping his eyes on you in case you lose your temper again. “Guys.” you call out to the three of them again. The other two hesitate, but eventually give you their attention. You clear your throat a second time, “I’m uh…” you blink a few times, the words getting mixed up and blurry in your head, so you settle for a simple: “Thank you.” All three angle their heads to hastily lock eyes before looking back up at you. Seokmin is the one who replies, “You’re—you’re not mad?” “Of course not.” in some way you feel hurt that any of them would expect you to be upset. They’d been your retainers ever since you were all early teeangers, and as retainers they were trained hard and fast. Seungkwan began his training a year before Soonyoung and Seokmin, but was a year younger than when the other two had started. The day they were assigned to you and you could finally stop traveling around with those two dusty men in their fifties (who annoyed you to no end with their nagging and lecturing) was a day to be remembered. Since that day, all four of you were inseparable.

“Kwannie!” Soonyoung laughs, one arm extending around Seungkwan’s shoulder as the other hand came to rest on his bicep, “Don’t cry!” “I just thought you would never forgive us.” Seungkwan mumbles, hand coming up to wipe his eyes and nose while Seokmin giggles and leans over to rest his head on his still arm for a few moments. Your heart aches seeing Seungkwan’s tears of relief, it was never easy to see him cry, even if it was out of happiness. For a moment it’s just another night in the castle you call home, all four of you sitting by the fire sticking by each others’ sides through another brutal winter as you find old literature to read in funny voices. “There’s nothing to forgive, it wasn’t any of your faults.” you assure them, shaking your head, ill at just the thought of holding a grudge against them. “And I should be the one apologizing. I put everybody in danger.” “It wasn’t your fault.” Seokmin reassures you, leaning just far enough while he sits behind Seungkwan so that you could see his wet eyes. Soonyoung nods in agreement, while Seungkwan is busy shielding his face from you. “Yeah, I mean you’ve done some pretty stupid shit. And that was one of them, b-” Soonyoung’s eyes wander around the social interactions happening in front of him while he speaks, too distracted to be able to block Seungkwan’s elbow with a blow to his upper arm. “OW! I wasn’t done! As I was saying… You’ve done some stupid shit-” “That we had a part in, too.” Seungkwan interrupts, words departing in Soonyoung’s direction under a glare. Soonyoung ignores him and his gaze shifts upon you, smiling as he’s determined to finish his thought, “But that was probably the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”

Seungkwan, wet tears still laying on his face, stands up with his craggy cotton napkin in hand and begins to beat the devil out of Soonyoung with it, who shields himself with a small silver plate. Soon all four of you are cackling, Seokmin and you both joining Seungkwan’s force to pelt Soonyoung with napkins. After the fight dies down and you feel your abdomen begin to ache from all the laughter, Seokmin reaches across the table to retrieve a bottle of wine. Soonyoung follows his lead, and gathers up four shiny silver wine chalices, “All of us have had a long journey, let’s relax tonight.” Spending the rest of the night next to your old friends from home while in a tent, miles away from your kingdom, is a weird feeling. You’re so used to being cooped up behind brick walls that your experience being outside of them isn’t anything close to what you were expecting. Then again, neither was losing your kingdom and your parents. But for one night, just this one, when the pain of grief is at its peak, you want to ignore it. Everything is changing, or rather, it already had—your path is tangoing with each person’s in this tent. Drinking seems like a good way to numb the mixture of grief, confusion, and shock that creeps into every waking thought. Even though you’re well aware the next time you wake up you’ll be burdened with a real hangover, you tell yourself, But that’s a problem for tomorrow, already on your third chalice of zinfandel. You watch and laugh as Seokmin and Seungkwan entertain the group with a melodramatic skit, taking note of Seungkwan already knowing the names of the boys who you arrived with as shown as he playfully yells at Chan and Wonwoo for their obnoxious side commentary.

An intense and strong energy from farther down the table radiates to you, but it’s not magic of any sort. Changing the direction of your gaze, your eyes cling to one particular individual whose gaze you suspect has been on you for the last several minutes. Seungcheol, who’s planted between Jeonghan and Joshua (a boy Soonyoung had introduced you to while you had sipped on your first serving of wine), is resting his head on his palm, fingers curled against his cheek. His other arm is flat against the table, fingers playing with the base of his presumably empty chalice. Blinking a few times, he silently chuckles at your dumbfounded reaction, softly batting his lashes a couple times, gaze still very much on you. A nervous giggle leaps from your throat, but the skit going on at the front of the table disguises it. However, the evidence of it still shows on your face, a small grin playing at your lips. Cheol grins back at you while you mouth, Are you still mad at me? He shakes his head frantically like a small child who’s in trouble; it’s then you realize it’s the alcohol that’s causing him to act oddly. He mouths something back at you, but as the skit causes another eruption of wild guffaws from all the boys, it’s harder to focus on making out what he’s saying.

Let’s all you narrow. is all you catch the first time. With your eyebrows pulled together, and eyes squinted, you watch, distant, as he mouths it for you again, and you finally piece the words together: Let’s talk tomorrow. Is it bad? You mouth, amusedly watching him as he drunkenly over-does his squinting while trying to read your lips. He furiously shakes his head again, re-adjusting his arms to cross over each other, so that they rest flat on the table. Once again, he replies by mouthing something to you but it’s unintelligible and after he does it a third time his eyelids get droopy until they close completely. You suppress a giggle as you watch him slowly drift to sleep, head gradually coming down to rest on his crossed arms. Seokmin and Seungkwan’s skit finally ends, the whole tent claps and cheers loudly, while Seungcheol doesn’t move an inch.

You shift your gaze to the stars of the show, your swift movement catching Minghao’s eye, who’s seated across from you, along the way. His eyebrow is raised, and he looks at you, and then in Seungcheol’s direction. Gathering what’s happened, he takes in the sight of Cheol who’s currently slouched over the table, fast asleep, not doing much besides breathing. Hao switches his gaze back to you, lips pulling upwards to form a lazy smile, and you find it impossible to stop from yourself reciprocating. Giggling under your breath, you raise your chalice to your lips, taking another swig as you enjoy Minghao’s lingering gaze, drinking in all the excitement and celebration of the night.

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EDIT (180807): i edited some of the story after going back and realizing i left in some of the effects of the original storyline i had planned of jeongcheol being old army buddies + MC thinking YJH killed CSC’s parents (when he was from a diff army who fought alongside matrona’s) and [s]he/they almost killed him to exact revenge. i rewrote a lot of dialogue from from “I thought that was pretty cool...what you did.” to “But perhaps Minghao gives you something to consider...” so if you’ve already read this & dont wanna read the whole thing again, theres ur start & stop places to see the changes and hopefully b less confused......super sorry abt any confusion, i reread this thing like 15 times and it still went over my head..maybe i should get a secondhand opinion before posting next time cuz im seriously embarrassed i just noticed this 2 months later l o l

→ CHAPTER 4

PHEW. god!!!!!! this was the hardest chapter to write. yesterday i was like “im 100% happy w this” after working on it for 3 weeks, and then i went and added 1,000 more words lmaoooo

i really enjoyed this one tho, the tension seems to be v real between y/n & hao 😈i’ll admit i swerved into his lane like 34 times since writing this.....the most fun part was writing y/n’s magicae locus. its nice to take a break from dialogue and write stuff that relies more on description ! speaking of magicae locus, all the words hao says is a mix of (obviously) latin, some italian, and some russian. im working on coming up w a name for the language !

again, i hope the love triangle isnt cheesy + playing into the usual clichés. its important to me that its not the “we hate each other bc we’re both competing for ur love” cliché isnt present. doesnt mean there cant be tension tho 😏how many times have i said tension???

thank u every1 who continues to leave likes, reblogs, nice comments + msgs. feedback means the world to me ;_; i will try my best to not let u all down 💞💓💝 this is my gift to u to start off the week 😁 & as always, heres the google drive link to the inspirations behind each members’ weapons and outfits here.

-deedee

[braindamageforbeginners]

Side Effects

Cycle 7, Day 10

So, today, I’m going to whinge about chemotherapy. I know that’s hardly a  change, but, what will be a change is which drug I’m whinging about.

I started this blog/writing project referring to the drug Marizomib as “the Captain Ameica supersoldier serum,” (and variations on that), because it’s cooler and less scary-sounding than “potentially lethal desperate gamble.” The good news is, it’s now passed Phase 2 safety testing, and gone on to Phase 3 (so, it’s probably safe-ish). And there’s some studies using it to treat various other neurological cancers and diseases. So, like Temodar, if you do plan on getting a central nervous system malignancy (and I know that’s one of the first places breast and lung cancers metastasize to) and require chemo, there’s a chance you’ll get dosed with Marizomib sooner or later (this isn’t some sort of secret knowledge either, it’s just being able to navigate PubMed and/or the FDA clinical trials/testing website).

First off, even though this is good news for glioblastoma patients, it’s still extremely targeted. I used to think that implied a degree of precision with much less collateral damage; I’m pretty sure now it means it’ll only directly effect cells with certain biochemical markers, and still do a fair amount of damage to the surrounding cells. The brain is both anatomically and molecularly walled off from the body, so any substance that can make it to that sacred ground is potentially dangerous. A known toxic substance (again, all chemotherapeutic agents are toxic) that’s injected and designed with the hope of getting to the brain, is an act of desperation (and possibly a weird long-form suicide, but those are the only choices available). Anyway, I have no doubt that if this proves effective at treating gliomas, it’ll be tested on all sorts of various other, seemingly-unrelated cancers, because that’s how the biotech/pharmaceutical industry works (again, Temodar was developed for skin cancer and breast cancer)(and thalidomide was originally developed as a sedative for children - I’m not making that up)(also, thalidomide is making a comeback as an anticancer drug as an antiangiogenic, but that’s not usually anyone’s first-choice drug group for chemo). So, first, the boring, technical med/tech stuff. If memory serves, early studies indicated Marizomib only worked on cancers with a p53 mutation (this is a near-universal mutation in solid tumors) when treated with radiation. In other words, you’re gonna need a brain tumor with both the p53 mutation, in an anatomical location they can get at it with radiotherapy, which isn’t all of the brain (google “pontine gliomas” or “Wernicke’s area” for fun). In my case, i believe they were testing it on IDH1 tumors (that’s indicative of a secondary glioma)(in my case, there’s two previous brain tumors that could be the hive queen, although a good mental flossing, nuking, and 20+ rounds of chemo seem to have soothed the situation). There were a half-dozen-ish mutations that made me a candidate in this trial, and I had them all on a post-it note that I seem to have misplaced. Ask your doctor if it’s right for you! Also, as someone who knows a little about how the safety data is valued and analyzed, if I were a cynic and in charge of such things, I’d look for candidates who were likely to do well on regular treatment (ATRX and MGMT come to mind, along with patient’s age, prior history, etc.) and then just pump them full of the experimental drug.

Now for the fun and/or gruesome part’ what to expect when you’re on Marizomib.  I’ll admit, this is extraordinarily unscientific, and based on my own experience, combined with what the Warlocks and their research staff have told me; also, part of Phase 2 testing is establishing the safe, recommended dose, and, although I’m not dead (yet) or displaying any severe long-term side-effects, knock on wood; there’s always a good chance the Warlocks slightly overdosed me (and if that’s the case, I’d tell them they were doing their job well; seriously, I’ve had this damned disease for 16 years, I’m ready for some sort of closure); so, your side effects and mileage may vary. First of all, chemo doses build up (in me, anyway). The fifth day of Temodar is worse than the first, I just didn’t previously notice it with Marizomib because I only get three doses a month, and they’re a week apart, so I can heal a little between episodes. So, day 15 is much worse than Day 1 (in terms of marizomib; Day1 of each cycle is combined Marizomib and temodar which is awesome).

The main things I’ve noticed with Marizomib are the sort of extreme, severe nausea we used to associate with old-school leukemia and lymphoma chemo agents, so keep zofran on you at all times i still haven’t puked*. I also get severe muscle pain usually in my arm and upper body, but it’s not too bad if the nurses can put an IV into one of my ulnar or radial veins in the wrist. This pain has varied from “Aw, I pulled a muscle” to “wild animal gnawing a limb off to get out of the leghold trap.” I also keep Tylenol on me, and, at  a nurse’s suggestion, started using it like the zofran - one big dose to start with, and smaller doses every 2-6 hours, which, like the zofran, makes it tolerable, but I still spend most infusion evenings trapped in a Johnny Cash lyric. The interest effects are that Marizomib is linked to hallucinations, which I have had. In my case, these are all pretty low-key (in my case) and brief, and usually concern weird little tricks of the light, or inanimate objecs moving or swaying. One of the researchers told me one guy quit the trial after hallucinating that his furniture attacked him (personally, I think that would be a siginificant improvement on the couch, but I digress). Because I try to go to bed early on infusion nights, before the dancing furniture shows up, I only rarely experience it. I do, however, get hyper-realistic, amazingly vivid dreams (usually on Marizomib-only days), which are kind of cool and psychedelic. However, they are so convincingly real that it usually takes me a minute after waking to figure out who and where I am. That’s all the first 12-ish hours post-infusion, though (for me), and there’s a solid 6-8 hour gap between infusion and side-effects that you might want to use to grab a meal, or do whatever you had planned for the day (still, keep the zofran and pain-killers nearby), The day after, I usually wake up with the hangover from hell (assuming I find my way back to my own dimension and body)(I’m serious, these dreams are something else)(the Warlocks have made a note of it and said it sounds like there may be some sort of weird, quasi-hallucinatory sleep stuff happening). I’m also dioriented (in the physical sense - my left side’s wonky) the day after. as bad as it might sound, it’s usually done in 36 hours, Nowadays, there’s fatigue. This one’s big; it wasn’t so bad in the initial treatment, but now that I’m up to maintenance doses (the Temodar is over four times what it initially was, I shudder to think at the Marizomib), it might not hit until day 3, but it’s nasty. I’m still just trying to power through it, but it does catch up with you (my personal definition of fatigue is when it it’s almost physically painful to be awake). Still, all things considered, it beats the alternatives I’ve been presented with. And if I’ve presented it as physically miserable and mentally unpleasant, that’s an understatement. I’ve been able to “cheat” a bit by keeping mega-high levels of hydration (fun fact: according to a sports health study, beer counts as a hydrating source if you’re using it as well as water rather than “instead of water”)(I wish I’d known that one in the initial treatment), and maintaining a near-psychotic level of physical activity (that’ll increase your metabolism, so you don’t keep them in your body a minute longer than they have to be.

*Your sense of achievement gets a little twisted throughout the process.

[luxintima-a-blog]

You're under my control

Put “You’re Under My Control” to have control of my muse for a thread. || @fieryknowledge 

They were something that he’d had no end of troubles with as a child, the nightmares so real and vivid that he couldn’t tell the difference between the fragmented memory they pulled from and the dream itself. High school had given him a reprieve. Between class work, his normal duties, and the added strain of practicing magic day in and day out had him exhausted to the point of quite literally collapsing into bed. It changed with his adventure into the wilds, exhaustion gave way to more restful sleep with less on his plate save sitting in a car and hunting things down for money. It was a few nightmares in a tent, usually quiet enough that he could drag himself out to sit by the fire until the sun was up. Sleeping in the car didn’t let him dream deep enough for the dreams to claim him again. It wasn’t until the night after Insomnia fell that they came back with a vengeance, waking everyone in the camp and having Ignis trying to calm him. Just a vivid dream, something he was in the throes of terror because of but couldn’t remember.

So it continued, some mornings waking in either Ignis’ or Gladio’s arms with them claiming that they tended to find him sleeping better if they did. Embarrassing, because while Ignis had practiced all this as a child, he hadn’t ever wanted his shield to know about this. That was why he’d taken to sleeping in the car, he could catch up with uninterrupted sleep. If it were particularly bad, he’d fight his way out of the tent at night and steal the keys, ready to actually spend the night in the car where he could let them sleep.

And for a while it worked, but he wasn’t getting restful sleep. Enough to keep him from getting them hurt, enough to be able to function, but he wasn’t as alert as he should have been. After an MT had grabbed him and passed several thousand volts of electricity through him, his friends sat him down and said in no uncertain terms that they needed a solution. It was in this meeting that Prompto sat quietly on the hotel bed, pulling Noctis to lean against him because he likely looked far worse than he felt. Ignis sat directly across from him, a chair pulled up to the edge of the bed and a hand running through his hair by means of support. Gladio almost immediately after plopped down behind him, pulling the prince and the heart of their group into his arms, Prompto being dragged along because he wasn’t about to let Noctis go. A week of mourning dead friends and family had ended with them ending up together, all of them sharing.

It helped a little with some of the things his unconscious mind came up wth to terrorize him.

And for a while it would work, swapping bed partners because while Noctis himself might not be able to get the best sleep in the world, there was no reason they all couldn’t get the best sleep they could. No one ever said it was alright, because they all knew that it wasn’t. It was just routine for a while, Noctis never remembering any of his dreams and barely remembering when someone actually had to calm him down. After speaking with the Archaean, and learning that Jared was killed as a result of his staying in the LeVille in Lestallum, is when they take a turn for the worst.

What were shattered memories, fragments of something that happened in his childhood that he hardly remembers, end up the starting points for more. They weren’t normal, wake up screaming because his mind didn’t know how to separate fact from fiction. He remembered that serpent, the half-woman they had called the Marilith, but other than the fact that it could have been raining or it could have been a shower of someone else’s blood hitting him, all he remembered was his father calling his name and waking up some number of months later paralyzed.

The first dream was bad, but better than the one the night after they’d set out for Cape Caem. He should have known that it wouldn’t last forever, but somehow a few nights in a row of wonderful sleep made him happy. Waking up in the motel room feeling agonizing pain in his back that he’d almost forgotten about, it was an terrible end to the restful sleep he’d been getting. For once he was happy about the separate rooms, keeping Iris or Prompto from seeing just how badly he was affected by it. Ignis was already helping him sit up, and when it didn’t help he barely managed that it hurt, it hurt just as bad as it had when he’d been a child in a too big hospital bed and Ignis would be the only one that knew how to make it stop. It was only after a little while that he’d calmed enough for Ignis to lay him down on the bed, rubbing soothing circles at the small of his back to try and banish the feeling of phantom pains the dream had brought on. 

His words were always calming, describing how it was he could feel pain in a dream, and explaining he wasn’t hurt, that he probably pulled a muscle or something when he’d woken in a panic and that was why the nightmare had melded with reality. The feeling of being a child was overwhelming, but the simplicity of his advisor just speaking would lull him into a trance, keep him from thinking about the nightmare fused memory. When Gladio finally gained entrance to the room, having assured Iris that if there was truly something she could do she’d be called, before he unlocked the door and joined Ignis on the side of the bed, Noctis clutching a pillow and the brunet.

He’d fall asleep to the sound of the two talking, and eventually Prompto’s hand in his hair.

Would that it had been the end of those hyper-realistic dreams, where he’d relive memories of something so terrible and feel all that pain again, but he was not so lucky. While he did not have another while anywhere near the younger Amicitia, having to explain the morning after the first that he was fine, just nightmares that were caused by stress, it was by no means the last of it. He was getting pitying looks from his lovers, and though they meant well, it didn’t help him any. It was one of them that he literally couldn’t get back to sleep after that caused Ignis’ tongue to slip. That they needed a solution because this was driving all of them up the walls.

Noctis spent the next night locked in the Regalia not only so they could get a night of uninterrupted sleep, but also because being in the car put him at ease. Somehow while he was there, it felt like his father would come back from beyond the grave and help him with his problems.

The day after, Ignis suggested sleep aids. No luck. Medication was next, something they could get without needing to go to a doctor that might report him to the Nifs for the reward money on his head. Avenue after avenue was tried before they’d exhausted all the means that Ignis had deemed scholarly or with merit. Hypnotism was unscientific, and there was no way it could work. But if it meant that they could all go a week without being sleep deprived or irritated, Noctis was willing to try anything. He was desperate to keep them from finding him a burden.

In the end he came back to himself with three concerned faces staring at him, hands on him and touching where they could. When it was clear that he wasn’t otherwise harmed, nothing seriously wrong with him or his memory, Prompto busted into laughter, earning a surprised and very confused look from their prince. Apparently they’d messed with him, Gladio telling him while he was ‘under suggestion’ to recite poetry to Ignis, and the video on Prompto’s phone had him flushing and snatching it before he could react.

Only for him to see the numerous videos of him following commands, including one in which he couldn’t quite hear what it was Ignis had said. His ever helpful shield peered over his shoulder, explaining that Ignis had wanted to ensure that the terrors would be fewer at least, because repressing them entirely was not healthy.

Gladio’s own phone had a clearer recording of them.

‘You are under my control. And you will do what I ask of you to the best of your ability?’

“I will.”

Ignis sighed, wholly uncomfortable with having this much power over the single person in the world he should have very little over. His prince, the young man that had been struggling with a fragile psyche since he was a child, was sitting before him with something equivalent to a vacant look in his eyes. Like he wasn’t actually there, out doing something else and there was no way to have him back. The thought was pushed away, because he knew that they would get their heart back. The person that had so kindly helped them with a rather strange request told them how to bring him out of it. And while they were all in this with one another, the advisor wished to be the one that actually set the suggestion, or the attempt at it, into his prince’s head.

‘When, in the future, you seem to suffer from your terrors, recall conversations with us. It needs not be with all three of us, just one of those who call you theirs would suffice.’ His heart fell a little at the slightly confused look that came to his face. He wanted to touch, pull him close and explain how it was that it would work. He’d been told in no uncertain terms that the shorter his command, the better. So he would sit straight, giving the midnight prince a smile that he wouldn’t register. ‘So that you can fall back to sound sleep with our voices and not those of your demons.’

Noctis nodded slowly at that, and when there was a call asking whether or not he was done, he had to hold up a hand, silent message for them to wait just a few moments more. ‘We will always be at your side, and I ask that deep down you keep that in your heart.’ With a small smile he allowed his hyper companion and his partner in crime to wander over, right before Gladio flipped the camera back around and stopped the recording.

Noctis himself didn’t comment on most of what he saw, just smiling at his flushing advisor as the hulking mountain of a man dragged all four of them into a hug because even if none of this worked, it was worth the effort to try and bring some normalcy to their trip. Like if they could for a moment forget that one of them was so badly broken, that one of them didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders and only three people to help him carry it, then it would just be a camping trip between four guys that happened to be dating one another.

Just a little bit of bliss, in the hopes that they could be just a little normal despite noble upbringings and secrets that would destroy them.