#i cannot wait for this self portrait hell to be over

[noraaron]

yknow youd think that someone whos constantly drawing eyes would be better at drawing THEIR OWN EYES, but nooooooo for some god forsaken reason i just cannot draw myself for shit

[lovee-infected]

Hello! Recently I've seen a lot of twst blogs arguing on how twst characters are mischaracterized, especially Malleus. So do you have any ideas on how he is mischaracterized? Also, is it okay to ask for your general opinion on questions like a short character analysis or how a healthy a relationship with each twdt guy might be? Hope it's okay to ask!

For your first question anon, it's a GREAT thing to ask and to be honest I've been waiting for a chance to talk about him! And for your second one, yes, of course! I just love writing character analyis and it's totally okay to ask for character/personality/relationship analysis here! I've got a lot to say about Malleus so this is going to a detailed analysis about his whole personality.

There are commonly two popular opinions on how Malleus is which divides the fandom into two groups:

Group A:

Those who consider him to be an absolutely soft, baby dragon who just wants to be invited and have a friend. They believe that Malleus needs more attention and can be quite affectionate at the time, he can also be sometimes idiotic toward simple stuff like working with a computer or trying to talk with others which makes him even more adorable. "Despite Malleus's harsh and emo appearance and terrifying powers, Malleus is just a small baby inside," is also a common belief of this group.

Group B:

Those who argue that group A is totally shading everything important about Malleus's personality and true self just because he looks cute and plays with a childish tamagotchi. These group also comes up with rather strong points about his personality such as his status as a crown prince, his naturally dark personality as not only a dark fae but also Maleficent's grandchild, his maturity and cold nature and also, the aspect of his hellish powers which can make him look like an absolute monster at the time.

I believe most of you are familiar with these points of view but the question is, which one of them is the real Malleus?

And the answer is: Neither of them; yet both of them do have a point.

The main problem is how the fandom portraits him as either an emotional tamagotchi baby or an absolutely cold and heartless mister of evil, while the true Malleus is far beyond than just being either good, or bad.

Now let's discuss some of the important facts and common mistakes about Malleus's personality:

(1) Malleus isn't a baby, but he isn't a monster either

This is supposedly the main idea here which will be continued to be discussed through the rest of this analysis. This is often how many end up mischaracterizing him because: the way the describe Malleus is either too dark or too childish. What we need here, is a balance. This is the grandson of one of the most important Disney villains that we are talking about, and don't forget that Maleficent herself was confirmed to consume the powers of Hell, as she was indeed the mistress of all evil. So this dragon boy here surely isn't one to underestimate, and he clearly has inherited that hellish power of her grandmother. It's obviously seen through the story as well, from the way he was presented in chapter 2 and beans day event to how terrified other students always are to even talk about him.

But the thing is, there are softer aspects of his personality as well which prove that Malleus isn't just designed to present an undefeatable force of evil, and this is exactly what makes his personality a lot more interesting.

(2) Malleus is actually hard to approach and talk to

Let's be honest, Malleus isn't as soft and easy to befriend as many fans consider him to be. He doesn't get too friendly or chill as he speaks, and even his close allies like Silver and Sebek fail to get close to him as much as they wish to. When we talk about his dark aura, we aren't just talking about his horns and fearsome magic, it's also because of his personality itself. His calm yet cold tone always remains still regardless of who he's talking to. No need to mention that he isn't an ordinary student either, he not only comes from a well-known family but is also the crown-prince of valley of thorns. Out of all twst characters Malleus is the only one who is directly connected to the great seven by being Maleficent's grandson. His family and people on the other hand are overly protective over him, to the point of not letting him to even have a fake proposal in the ghost marriage event which means that Malleus has also got each and every of his actions under watch.

(3) He's slowly getting used to isolating himself

In his ceremonial robes story, he's obviously upset that he never had a chance to wear his ceremonial robes because he never got invited, but when Lilia says he'd one day overcome his ill fate and gets to wear them as he always wanted to, he says that he's fine. Then again when Lilia tried to bring him to the singing test in chapter 5 he avoids showing up. In his voice lines he also said: "Are you as well scared of me?" which is clearly shouting that he's no longer surprised to see people being afraid of him, he's getting used to being feared and at some point, hated. That's probably one of the bitter sides of his personality which he's slowly giving up on trying to change it.

(4) Malleus has got a great confidence and isn't shy at all

There many fanfics in which Malleus is presented as a shy boy who's scared of confessing to his s/o or asking them out, while he's the total opposite in reality. Just like Maleficent herself, he speaks calmly and in a formal tone, is very respectful as he speaks, and isn't one to ever have problem while talking to others.

It's others who always avoid talking to him while Malleus himself isn't the least uncomfortable with presenting his ideas and asking others for help when he needs to.

He isn't ever shy over his lack of ability to work with machines or asking others for help for seemingly childish issues like having his tamagotchi fixed or finding a friend for the GaoGao dragon.

The only thing left is how Lilia described him as "Kind of shy" in chapter five, which is most likely because of another reason discussed in part (3)

(5) He doesn't eat ice cream and play with a tamagotchi for no reason

Malleus explained that everything is ran by magic back in the valley of thorns and no one really uses any machines there, that's how he's pretty new to both technology and complicated tools.

I believe that the tamagotchi part was given to him on purpose, because else than showing the fact that he's bad with tools, it's great contrast to the harsh picture that his power and personality gives him!

Admit it, it's a funny and somehow, adorable contrast to see one of the strongest magicians who can burn the room to ashes in just a matter pf second playing with a children's toy. And I believe that it was given to him on purpose. They meant to give him some soft and cute features as well instead of just presenting him as an evil fae. He is indeed evil and his powers are terrifying, and that's how watching him play with a tamagotchi is rather surprising to many. If you saw Ortho or Cheka playing with one it wouldn't have gone any further than a simple "Awww" or "How cute" because it's something you'd expect to see from a kid, but when you see Malleus of all people playing with it, you can't help but to fascinated and flustered over how cute this fae's habits can be.

Ice cream on the other hand doesn't really have to do with cuteness, it's something Yana Toboso discovered while doing her researches on fae mythology which discuses that Dark faes enjoy cold and sweet foods, especially cream. So it doesn't really have anything to do with him being either a soft or a cruel boy, it's just a normal part of his nature as a fae.

(6) He might be crazily old to humans, but he's still pretty young as a fae

This one has really been getting on my nerves, come on people! It's true that he's probably been living for decades and possibly, centuries but don't forget that it isn't that much compared to a normal fae! Even Sebek calls him 'Young master' which means that he's still a pretty young one, no need to mention that he hasn't yet became the king either so he's not much different from the rest of the students in NRC.

I've seen people saying: "No Malleus won't do that he's -too old-" and I've got to say: What?

Come on even someone like Lilia who's been living for over 5 centuries can act like a nasty 14 year old at the time, so for faes at least, age isn't a limitation.

Malleus on the other hand is still a teenage fae! He needs to discover new things and talk with more people, just like a normal human being does. So if he doesn't enjoy doing anything too silly or stupid, it's because of his 'personality', not because he's too old. Even when tells Lilia that he isn't a child anymore, it's like how an 18 year old says it to his father.

(7) Malleus won't take insult easily

He is polite and respectful in general, but when he's offended, he'd seriously respond to it. Remember that a single swipe of hand from him can set the whole room on fire.

Rook and Leona were probably one step away from being burnt and when Leona really got on Malleus's nerves by humiliating him, Malleus stopped respecting him as a prince of an ally kingdom and humiliated back.

He is calm but to a specific point, and you can make sure that he won't be any soft or forgiving if you offend him, and it'll probably end in no good if he gets mad. So better not think that Malleus is one to just keep it in and later cry in a room because he's sad baby when someone dares insult him.

(8) Angelina Jolie's Maleficent has nothing to do with his story!

Nope, Malleus never had a lover who cut off his wings and sent him to a hell of depression and loneliness, and no you cannot find those two wounds on his back regardless of how romantic it may seem.

I admit it, it's a lovely Au, but it's JUST AN AU! I can still see people saying stuff like "Ohh!! Will we discover if Malleus too had his wings cut off in chapter 7?" and the answer is NO. While Angelina Jolie's Maleficent is surely a great one on its own, it needs be understood that twst's source of main information and characters designs is nothing else than the original Disney villains.

Malleus cannot be associated with any Maleficents else than the version we saw in 1959's sleeping beauty and it's an important fact to look through.

(9) Malleus is NOT Maleficent!

While they are a lot more similar than you can imagine(in both power and personality), let's not forget that Malleus is NOT Maleficent! He's a total new character on his own, and is unique in his own way.

He is twisted from Maleficent which means that no matter how similar they are, Malleus is a new character with a new personality.

Saying that he isn't soft at all and the fandom will see his true face when he overblots ( It's supposed to mean that the real Malleus is an absolutely evil and destructive one, just like Maleficent) is nothing different from denying all of Yana's hard work on designing him and his personality!

Malleus himself said that his grandmother's skills were far greater than his and most importantly: Malleus still has chance to have a better fate than Maleficent did.

Once again: He's still young! He still has a chance to be saved from turning into a heartless and isolated creature like Maleficent. No matter how cold he is, he hasn't yet got to the point of hating the whole world and losing all of his emotions. And that's why it's totally wrong to deny all the good that he might still have inside by saying that he isn't soft at all. He isn't a baby, but he isn't a monster either. Not yet.

(10) Even Lilia agrees that Malleus is still learning and his personality is in development

Can't you see? Malleus isn't attending to this school for no reason. His magic is already top notch, and his knowledge goes far greater than anything they might teach in NRC.

If you take a look at the story, you'll see signs of Lilia indirectly giving us signs of why Malleus still needed to attend to this school. In Malleus's SR robes' story, Lilia told him that he still has a lot to learn and knowledge isn't everything. And what might he find in NRC which has nothing to do with knowledge? People.

Lilia is trying to hold him back from isolating himself like Maleficent did, and is indeed trying to help him make friends and learn to get along with people without thinking that it's useless because they'd fear him anyway.

Also, he clearly wants Malleus to learn and experience new things in NRC by taking part in activities. In Malleus's Halloween SR story Lilia, who was always the one to choose Diasomnia's Halloween costumes, asks Malleus to choose this year's costume instead of him. Lilia first says that he wants Malleus to do it but later tells him that he has other reasons as well, he was trying to put Malleus into trying something new therefore he can have something learn from the experiment! (What a cute papa he really is...)

This is another proof of him not having the cold and unapproachable picture some imagine him to have, he isn't against experiencing and trying new things.

(11) He's still looking for a true friend

Malleus needs a friend, that's a fact. During his chats he mentions how Maleficent always had her loyal pet crow by her side as the only reliable creature she could always trust, and how Malleus wonders if he can ever find such a worthy ally of his own.

Even as he has Lilia, Silver and Sebek by his side he doesn't feel like he has such a friend.

People have been avoiding him through his whole life, and you can see how excited he got when Cater asked him for a selfie as he was one of the very first people who ever tried to approach him.

While he's slowly getting used to being feared by everyone, he'd still appreciate a friend and he needs one. Not even Maleficent herself could've made it all on her own without a friend by her side.

(12) Malleus isn't heartless

While he won't easily fall for anything or anyone, it isn't impossible for him to love.

We haven't yet seen anything that directly gets us to the point of love in the story but it's something you can tell through his actions and words.

When he cares for something or someone, he'd be serious about it.

Two obvious examples would be his tamagotchi and the ramshackle dorm. He'd certainly get out of his way to find someone to fix his dear tamagotchi and as we saw in the Halloween event, he furiously stated that he'd burn anyone who tries to the ramshackle dorm any harm, because he likes that place.

There isn't much he holds dear in life, but when he does, he won't let a single soul to take it away from him.

When he can be this protective over something that just entertains him, just try to imagine how far he might go to protect the one he loves. He falls in love very slowly and it'll probably take him a while to realize it if he actually does. He can begin with small interests and repeated meetings but at some point, it'll turn into a routine, an obsession. He won't easily fall in love, but when he does, he won't be able to easily let go of it either.

(13) His relationship with MC is far more important than you're thinking

Just by going through his voice lines, you can tell how MC is effecting Malleus's personality and life. I'm not saying that it's love or anything but the thing is, MC is changing Malleus nonetheless.

Their relationship has been a totally new thing for Malleus to experience from the very beginning, because MC didn't know him. Malleus is obviously used to being well-known as the infamous prince of the Draconia family by almost everyone, but MC was an exception.

He asked MC to talk to him and tell him stories, it can be clearly see that he enjoys talking to them.

He also mentioned that MC has made him feeling lots of things he hadn't felt before, which can also be connected to part (10) where we discussed how he's still young and needs more of communication and friends because he needs to learn.

Some argue that Malleus couldn't care less about MC and the only reason he shows up around them is because of the ramshackle dorm, which can be easily proven wrong by two hints:

1) Malleus sent a Happy holiday card to MC after the winter holiday.

2)What Malleus told Lilia at the end of the Halloween event stories after all the troubles that was brought upon the ramshackle dorm: "I want that human to enjoy Halloween too"

While it isn't necessarily romance that we're talking about, his relationship with MC is clearly telling us that he's a lot more of emotions and humanity inside him than what we were expecting.

At this point, it's important to see that in spite of his cold nature and mature personality he is slowly beginning to feel more and more emotions as the result of meeting newer people in NRC, especially MC. Saying that he is nothing but a heartless fae who is wrongly thought to be a soft and emotional boy is nothing different from judging him the same way as most of the people in twisted wonderland itself judge Malleus, it's important to see that he's a lot more.

His personality itself is surely amazing and as a Malleus hoe stan myself I can't wait to get more of his background in chapter 7, although it's probably going to be dark as well. They really did give his design a twist and that's how he's a balance of and menacingly powerful magician and a young boy who's just learning to deal with emotions.

For now, that's all I had in mind! Hope that I didn't miss anything. This was a general character analysis which also discussed some of the common mistakes about Malleus's personality but-

In case that you're wondering how he's being mischaracterized in reader insert fics, that'll be a totally different issue to discuss which would also need another post to be discussed through.

Small note: Just saying that there's often a dark lore to twst x reader fics (Especially for Malleus/ Leona x reader) which is usually better to be ignored while reading/writing for them...

[familyagrestefanblog]

Analysis of the Family Agreste Portrait

Quarantine strikes again and since the Agreste family portrait has fascinated me for a loooong while now I decided to put my thoughts into words and write another essay x3

The amount of informations we get out if it is amazing and its not only highlighting the absolute TRAGEDY it is that this family is about to face such a horrible fall out, it also hints at the former family dynamic before everything went to hell.

So make yourself comfortable and get something to drink, because we will be here for a while.

Here we go: My analysis of this beauty of a fictional portrait

Let's start with the most obvious one: Hawkmoth.

Its commen knowledge by now that the background makes it seem like Hawkmoth is standing behind the Agreste family like a bad omen waiting for fate to take its course and cause their doom. The portrait is brilliantly designed so the illusion is created that Gabriels body (here in a blue suit closer to Hawkmoths normals dark purple one) overlaps with Hawkmoths and a darker line is connecting the two faces as well, which rest on the same height right beside each other. The very same line grows bigger as it goes further behind Emilie - coloring her entire background - showing us that EMILIE is all Gabriel sees when he becomes Hawkmoth. But notice that Adrien on the other hand can hardly be concidered part of Gabriels “sight” at all.

Its forshadowing 101 and damn beautiful if I may say so. But this isnt what I want to focus on in this post.

I want to elaborate on two other key factors that tell us about the former dynamic of the Agrestes instead and what they tell us about the present and future.

The heart:

This is hitting me on another level because look at the heart these three form with Adrien right in the middle! He was so LOVED. This family may have never been anywhere close to ideal but still, there was LOVE and now he's gonna loose it all.

Adrien already lost his mother which led to his father getting even more distant and cold and now his father is becoming increasingly more abusive as he falls deeper and deeper into villainy. Gabriel was never a good father, the show has already made this clear with episodes like "the bubbler", “the collector” or "Gigantitan" for example but gosh there was hope for their little family! The end scene in "Jackady" portrayed it perfectly and I wrote a whole other post just covering the sigificants of Adriens and Gabriels hug in that episode. Check it out here if you want, it goes hand in hand with this one.

Miraculous is all about love and the completely different ways it can affect us, our behavior and actions. Because love isnt just wonderful, pure and empowering, it also can be twisted, destructive and cause the darkst nightmares. And with this family the writers know how to portray the complex love in an abusive houshold thats destined to go up in flames and they also know how to hint at their troubled past with the family portrait.

But this heart visual tells us even more in connection with the positions of their hands. And with these two key factors, lets start with Gabriel:

His hands convey it so strongly. He loves/d Emilie and Adrien so much and no doubt this love for them was certainly the reason why he started his quest as Hawkmoth. But he is now losing himself more and more in the pleasure of his villainy to the point where he forgets why he's doing it in the first place and becomes a complete monster (of a father). But this turn and spiraling into villainy didn't came out of nowhere - this root already had to be in him to grow like that. And this is also something the portrait indeed hints at as well.

Because Gabriel is the only one of the three who:

1. We see so completely open and without hesitation reach out and hold BOTH his family members.

2. Is visually “cut off” from them as well.

But this doesn't mean he was excluded and the only one who truly cared and loved, it just shows that things were more... complicated...as usual.

This is best explained with Adriens hand placements:

One hand is holding his mothers but the other one is visibly not reaching out for his father. But as we all know, that's not because Adrien doesn't love him. In season 1-3 it is made more than clear that Adrien does not hate his father - he loves him alot and tries to be there for him and be patient because he knows that the loss of his mother brought his father terribly down.

Sure, Adrien gets frustrated and angry with him, literally how could he not?? But Adrien tries his best to reach out to Gabriel so they can bond and come out of this tragedy stronger.

But this loving willingness to forgive his father for the chance of growing a father-son bond with him doesn't change the fact that these two didn't had a bond prior to this. And let's be honest here, does anybody actually think this distance between them was caused by Adrien? I don't think so.

So notice how Adriens hand - not reaching out for his fathers - is the only one in the portrait NOT inside or forming the heart.

When the connection of the hands between the family members symbolise their connection to another, then Adrien keeping the hand for his father away from the display of love is VERY telling. It tells us very directly what this distance did to Adriens side of the relationship. Despite Gabriels hand being right there, Adrien does not meet the gesture. And I cannot believe that he did it out of resentment, nothing in the show indicated such strong negative emotions from past Adrien.

It's much more likely that Adrien not reaching for his fathers hand is meant to show us that Adrien felt that he either CAN'T return the gesture because he fears that it'll end in an unpleasant reaction from Gabriel - that it isn't Adriens "place" to reach out to his busy and distant father like that, like it's demanding something - or Adrien simply didn't took Gabriel laying his hand on his shoulder, in the context of posing for a portrait, as a gesture of love and affection.

The way I interpret the portrait is that prior to Emilies dissappearence Adrien did not exactly try to reach out to his father the same way he did from s1-s3, which, I mean, of course wasn't the case. Not only is it NOT the 13 years olds (or younger) job to form an emotional connection to their absent parent - when that’s the PARENTS job - it also wouldn't be necessarily "needed" for Adrien to do so.

Because Emilie at this point was still in the picture so and she was the complete opposite. She was a (or maybe the ONLY) safe, reliable and loving constant of parental attention, affection and care in his life and because of these two HARSH contrasts Adrien learned from very early on to focus mostly completely on her in that regard while kinda blocking his father out.

That most likely wasn't even an active choice whatsoever - Gabriel proofed to be an unreliable resource so Adrien learned to subconciously treat him that way out of self protection. That doesn't mean he had any kind of dislike or malice against his father it just means that he wasn't able or allowed to connect with Gabriel the way he needed. Several episodes show that Gabriel deadass only parented like 15 minutes tops in his life with one of the worst offenders kinda being “Gigantitan” ngl.

So yeah, when I see that the portrait wants to tell me that prior to Emilies loss, Adrien - a 12-13 year old at most - is THIS used to rely solely on the strong bond he has with his mother and not even really reaching out for his fathers love, then I can't help but interpret it in the way that... Well... Gabriel was so distant and emotionally unreliable to Adrien for all his life, that Gabriel simply... wasn't needed by his son. Not at that point of time at least.

And while this may seem weird, because obviously Adrien only now starts to stop craving for his fathers affection and approval (which is btw a horrible, HORRIBLE thing and not something good. A half orphan losing the last remaining hope he had left of having the chance to finally get to form a bond with the only other parent he has left, just to be crushed by disappointment and abandonment all over again until he let's go, is REALLY NOT as much of a good thing people will make it out to be. This is... plain awful) it's actually quite logical.

Adriens hand outside the heart doesn't mean that his father meant nothing to him and therefore refuses to meet and accept his affection (that's literally the complete opposite of what the show shows us), it means that Adriens and Gabriels father-son relationship suffers from a fatal emotional disconnection caused by miscommunication/ a lack of communication.

And this was caused by Gabriel. How? Let me elaborate on that by going a bit far afield (cuz lbh we all have time for this. I’m writing this in quarantine and youre reading this is quarantine, so lets gooooooooooooo).

In "The bubbler" Adrien says that his father "always forgot his birthday", but I cannot agree with this in true honesty. Gabriel is controlling his sons entire life, calls him "the epitome of perfection" and temporarily truly gave up being Hawkmoth for him, he definitely never forgot Adriens birthday.

"The bubbler" even SHOWS us that Adriens perspective of the situation is actually not the truth:

This is Adriens first birthday after Emilies dissappearence and it's incredibly telling how Gabriel handles the planning.

What this entire little sequence tells me is that Gabriel is completely and UTTERLY used to NOT be the one to take care of anything related to Adriens birthday. So Emilie was always the one who did it but somehow - now without her - Gabriel apparently still hasn't even considered changing anything about that nasty non-involvement and just expected Natalie to pick everything up where Emilie left it.

Because let's be real here, knowing Natalie she would NOT have forgotten to get a present if Gabriel truly had told her to. Natalie is never presented to do mistakes like that but Gabriel on the other hand IS definitely presented to us claiming things about himself as ultimate, blameless and true when they simply do not reflect reality. A great example: Gorizilla

You didn’t even speared a minutes of your time for Adrien and he DID try to! Asshat… It's a problem guys. The lack of self awareness Gabriel displays in moments like this is legitimately concerning when you think about how deeply this man is falling right now.

But back to the topic:

Because even if Gabriel didn't even consider doing anything himself for Adriens birthday - not even taking the time to SEE his son (who just recently lost his mother, come on Gabe, really?) - one thing one cannot hold against him: he sure as hell remembered Adriens birthday like any decent parent would and it wasnt portrayed as a this-year-for-the-first-time thing.

And yet Adriens statement still makes complete sense. Because a big, BIG problem with Gabriel is just how much he takes things for granted. He EXPECTS things to be universally known and to never be doubted, just because that's how HE sees them. I will write 10 essays if it's needed to make people understand that Gabriel DOES truly love Adrien, it's just that Gabriel HIMSELF is such a rotten, twisted and toxic person that he cannot see how much his (oppressing) behavior and the way he (doesn't) express his love hurts Adrien and that HE is the one at fault. (for more, once again, read this)

Gabriel LOVES Adrien but he takes the love he feels as such a matter-of-fact that he just completely... forgets to show it.

And when we take Adriens words and look at the Family portrait it unfortunately seems that...

…. Gabriel ALWAYS forgot to show it.

Adriens hand - that should at least be reaching out to his father - is outside of the heart in accepting certainty. Because that's what Gabriels non-presence was for Adrien while growing up: an unreliable and unreachable certainty he had to accept early on as safer to not try to emotionally depend on too much or else he will get hurt.

So yeah, Adrien is the one in the portrait who is very openly not reaching out but only because Gabriel never gave him the needed affection and stability to be able to create that bond.

But let me correct what I said a little earlier: Adrien ALWAYS needed his father. Every kid, especially one in a bad situation like Adrien, does need their parents/friends etc as support system to become independent and confident in a healthy way. And if they don’t have that they WILL crave and look for it!

What Adrien has been doing up to now IS normal for a teenager - humans NEED affection, belonging and safety. What ISNT/SHOULDN’T be normal is Adriens disconnection towards his father in the portrait and just how much Gabriel fails to take care and BE THERE for his son in BOTH TIMES!

Collector:

Bother Christmas:

One thing I like about the show is that it portrays their young main cast with one very important truth: The psyche of a child/teenager of their age will react and adapt so it SURVIVES, even if it results in unfortunate consequences in other relationships and places. Thats the psyches main concern and it'll try to cope with the limited experience and development it has in whatever way necessary to get itself to the next day. A coping mechanism is not there to make you a better person, it ensures your SURVIVAL, everything else is a secondary concern.

So seeing pre-show Adrien not react to Gabriels touch and even feel completely unloved and disconnected from him is no surprise to me. Kids are incredibly observant. They may lack the needed experience and knowledge to truly understand that they deserve better and to stand up for themselves but they are masters in picking up red flags in people and can put this danger into perspective while comparing the different danger levels of their options of people and places to adjust their behavior.

Feast:

Stormy Weather 2:

So the broken connection between father and son we see in the portrait (that Gabriel doesn't even notice but Adrien fully internalized) isn’t there because Adrien “didnt needed” or wanted his father, its because Adrien NEEDED Gabriel so much in his isolated upbringing but Gabriel didn’t LET him need him - so Adrien had to adjust to that accordingly. Big, huge, ENORMOUS difference.

Honestly the most miraculous thing about Miraculous is that Adrien was able to bring up the strength to stay positive and friendly and to forgive Gabriel in hope for a better future. That boys situation is 7 kinds of depressing and traumatizing...

It's just flabbergasting to me how well this portrait shows how basically non-existent their relationship was at that point. And it's horrible to know that this estranged and unformed bond is all Adrien had left after Emilie dissappeared, just alot worse because after Emilie incident Adrien states that his father changed alot for the worse as well.

So to think that all Adrien had left wasn't even this former basically non-existent relationship with his aloof father - who would only barely show his true affection for his son because he's either not around enough to do so or he thinks it "unnecessary to proof his affection" for/to Adrien because he already thinks it so obvious and undoubtable.

Well he thought wrong. And GOSH, it breaks my heart!

So now comparing the "Gabriel" hand from Adrien with the one representing his connections with his mother conveys a pretty harsh contrast.

Because last but not least, let's take a look at Emilies hand placements:

But here is now an interesting difference to Adrien. Whereas we openly see that Adriens side of the Adrien-Gabriel relationship is completely disconnected from the heart/love - showcasing just how badly Adrien has always been neglected by his father - we don't see Emilies hand in her Emilie-Gabriel relationship AT ALL.

Once again just like with Adrien, this doesn't mean she didn't love her husband and that Gabriel was used and fooled by the woman he so utterly adored. It just means that from Emilies point of view things were a bit more complicated. What exactly this is, the portrait is keeping secret from us. We have no way of knowing if and how Emilie is returning her husbands gesture. All we can say is that if she does she is definitely not doing it in such an open and unconflicted way as she does with Adrien.

But since when has anything with this family been this easy?

One thing the portrait makes very clear, Adrien and Emilie had a strong and good bond. Definitely the healthiest because the Adrien-Emilie connection is the only one depicted without any kind of disruption from both sides. Both mother and son are reaching out for the other ones hand creating a whole half of the heart, showcasing their affection for another openly and without any of the implied doubts the other connections display. And honestly? Comparing all the hand placements, the one connecting Adrien and Emilie just comes across as strikingly pure and true (which makes it even worse that it was HER Adrien lost…)

As I said it's a HARSH contrast to the one Adrien shears with Gabriel. This contrast is highlighted even further by the way these three face on another.

Emilie and Adrien are positioned facing another and so are Emilie and Gabriel. Telling us that Emilie was "face-to-face" aka involved with both her husband and son. It is Adrien and Gabriel were this looks wildly different. These two have no way of seeing each other in the eyes the way they stand now/then, further displaying their deeply rooted disconnection. It's portrays perfectly how important Emilie was in this family dynamic, because even though Adrien and Gabriel bearly had a connection at all they at least had Emilie as a link between them, keeping the family together. But then they lost her and where this left both father and son off we know oh too well...

So to collect all the informations we get out if this portrait:

-Adriens and Emilies relationship was the strongest and purest. Both of their hands connect and reach out for another in the heart, showcasing that they had a loving and positive bond.

-Adriens and Gabriels relationship is heavily scarred by a deeply rooted disconnection leaving Adrien feeling unloved and unwanted by his father to the point where Adriens side of their dynamic is outside the heart altogether. Gabriel may love and adore his son just like he loves his wife and never thought he displayed his love for him in a lacking way, but fact is: this love never reached Adrien the way it should have and Adrien is the one in their dynamic who got severely hurt and damaged by it.

-Gabriel was the only one completely unconflicted and happily at peace with the former Family situation. He's reaching out to both his family members with open love and affection in blissful oblivion that neither his wife nor son could return them the same way (to different degrees for different reasons). Gabriel was the ONLY ONE in the Agreste family who didn't saw problems in their lives and thought them all happy, hence why he's so obsessed with changing the past and bringing THIS state of their family back. He was happy and he had everything he needed and loved right with him, of course he wants THIS back. He's not aware that Emilie and ESPECIALLY Adrien did not feel the same about their former situation and that bringing all of them back to this is not the perfect happy ending for their entire family as he thinks.

-Emilie may not have been as unconflicted with Gabriel as he was with her but she is NOT feeling the same disconnection her son feels and isn't depicted with negative feelings towards Gabriel. Her side in the Emilie-Gabriel relationship is neither shown outright positive as with her son or outright bad as Adrien with Gabriel. Her side of their bond is depicted through her unseen hand placement in the unknown area in between.

-Despite their not so unconflicted feelings towards Gabriel - and Gabriel himself being aloof - neither Emilie nor Adrien are actively trying to cut Gabriel out. They aren't flinching away from his touch or exclude him from the heart whatsoever. He's happily included, obviously feeling loved. They may not be 100% happy and Gabriel doesn't notice it, but they aren't denying him his happiness and make him unhappy. Again, he's the only one truly happy here. Something neither Emilie nor Adrien tried to take away from him.

-Emilie and Adrien are facing each other as do Emilie and Gabriel, implying the presence of communication and a bond. Adrien and Gabriel do not face each other, showing their disconnected bond. If they could see each others face Adrien would have been able to see that Gabriels hand is a gesture of genuine affection and Gabriel could see that Adriens expression does not exactly display pure happiness the way he thinks. This also goes for Emilie. Emilie just like her husband is placed BEHIND her son, so even if she is facing him she would not be able to really see just how much Adrien is not satisfied and truly happy with his life at that point (meaning how unhappy being looked up, friendless and at distance with his father actually makes him).

- This fascinating family makes me sad and I like it lol

[speechlessxx]

Bring Him Light - ii (King!Steve Rogers x Reader)

Chapter Summary: Just as everything began to settle, you discover a bit of truth to the rumors you feared. 

Warnings: Nothing much just really bad writing. Steve’s less bipolar so that’s great. 

Word Count: 3.3k

I finally know where the direction of where I want to take Bring Him Light to. 

Bring Him Light Masterlist

I hope you guys enjoy!

<- Last Part -=+=- Next Part ->

A week has passed since your first meeting with the king. He grew more pleasant the more you two spent time together – perhaps his sour mood was indeed due to the king being overworked. Nevertheless, you still refused to grow attached to the man. There were rumors of his cruelty for a reason. But as the days wore on, your stubbornness was soon relenting, allowing yourself to enjoy his presence despite his mood swings that swayed like a pendulum.

And with your wedding on the horizon, perhaps the bond growing steadily between you and King Steven was a good thing.

The arrow whizzed through the air and landed centimeters away from the red center. You let out a groan as your arms slack in defeat. “I swear I’m much better,” you muttered. You were normally a great shot with your own bow – the bow that the huntsman broke when you fought against him.

The king chuckled as he took the bow from your hands. “I’m sure you are,” he teased. He drew an arrow and aimed for less than a second. When he let it go, it landed right into the center – much to your dismay. “My, I do think I’ve won.”

“You’re so humble.” He chuckled at your words. Your sarcasm was as crisp as the morning air. “But I do believe I have a redemption shot.”

Steven quirked up an eyebrow. “Of course, your highness,” he gave you a cocky smile as you grabbed the bow from him. “If you think you can beat a perfect shot.”

You hummed as you lined up your shot. You took a deep breath as you stared into the target. Your breathing was steady as you aimed. He doubted you could best him. His arrow lodged in the exact center of the target. It was a guaranteed win. Surely –

You let the arrow go and with an audible snap, Steven’s eyes widened in surprise. It was hard to tell from the distance, but it became clear as you both approached the target. “You’ve split my arrow,” he said in disbelief.

“I told you I was great a shot. Did you not believe me?” He sputtered excuses and you felt a rush of pride as a smirk found its way onto your face. “My, I do believe that I have won, your grace.”

“I concur,” he chuckled. “Took you some time to adjust to the bow, though. Perhaps, we should’ve played at even stakes from the beginning. Shall we ask a servant to fetch for your bow?”

You gave him a sad smile and shook your head. “I’m afraid I did not travel with my bow.”

“Why not?”

“Thor, the huntsman, who gave me these,” you lifted your wrists as you alluded to the cuts that were now mostly healed, “snapped my bow.”

“You never did tell me why you were fighting with Thor.”

“Perhaps it’s a story that should be told another day,” a voice called out. Lord Alexander Pierce, one of the lords of Steven’s council, bowed to you and his king. You quickly noticed Steven’s sudden change in demeanor. His smile had been abandoned as his brows furrowed and his stare hardened. You weren’t a fool. You knew that the Lords Pierce and Rumlow were almost always the cause of his aggravation. “Your grace, I’ve come to collect you. Lord Rumlow and I request a meeting with the council.”

“Has Lord Barnes and Lord Wilson been informed?”

“Yes, your grace. We are all waiting on you.”

“Can’t it wait,” you frowned. Steven glanced over at you in surprise. Ladies normally hold their tongue in the presence of the nobles. Some would’ve called your outburst impolite, but King Steven found it amusing. “The king and I were enjoying our time together before you arrived.”

“I’m afraid it cannot.” Lord Pierce simply stared through you. How dare a woman speak in that tone to me, he thought though he knew better than to snipe at his future queen – especially in front of the king.

Steven let out a sigh through his nose as his jaw clenched up in frustration. What the hell did Rumlow and Pierce want now? “I will join you later for a rematch.” He told you but you shook your head.

“I will be at one of the eastern villages later today,” you said. “I was told there was a fire last night and I wanted to provide any aid I could.”

“Of course,” Steven nodded. “When I’m released, I will join you.”

“I would love that, your grace,” you nodded and curtseyed to him and walked off.

Lord Pierce sent a glare your way and as soon as you were out of earshot he said, “is everyone in that family horrendously outspoken?”

“Amusingly so, Lord Pierce.”

“»————-　⚜　————-««

“I do not see the problem,” Steven said, squinting his eyes the two men. Lord Rumlow let out a sigh of frustration as he looked to Lord Pierce to further the argument.

“We have reason to believe that your future bride may be conspiring against you. How simpler can it get?” Lord Pierce snapped. The older man was visibly annoyed. The wrinkles around his brows and forehead visible with his frown. The king didn’t appreciate the man’s tone. “She has you galivanting in your gardens with her, playing a game with arrows. She’s keeping you from your duties.”

“Was it not you who said that the wedding should be postponed?” James scoffed.  

“Besides… she is not a distraction. We’re simply getting acquainted with one another. I do not want to marry a stranger. Not again.” The king said. He looked at the painting that hung near the door. He remembered painting that portrait of Queen Margaret, his first wife.

“The Starks cannot be trusted.” Lord Pierce added. “Not long ago, we were at war with them! Now, you trust that Anthony Stark has sent over his own daughter willingly?”

“I trust Tony.” Steven nodded. He did. Despite the disarray that plagued the north three years ago, he did trust the other king. “And his daughter has not given me any reason to doubt the Starks. She’s lovely company. Perhaps, you’re just upset that she doesn’t scare easily.” Lord Wilson and Barnes chuckled at this. Alexander Pierce took pride in his ability to bend others to his will by striking fear in their hearts – something you seemed impervious to.

“I believe we can save ourselves from King Thanos entirely.” Lord Pierce suggested. The five men fell into silence as Lord Pierce smirked, knowing he finally had their attention. “Marrying the Stark girl may unite the North, but why should we stop at just the north. Of course, but what if you marry King Thanos’s eldest daughter – the Princess Gamora. You would spare Brooken from Thanos’s wrath.”

“But that would not mean that Brooken is free from the Mad King’s tyranny! He would want Brooken as his own.” James interjected.

Steven agreed. “His daughter would slit my throat in my sleep so that my kingdom falls in her father’s hands. I will not have it.”

“Cousin, I ask that you entertain the idea,” Brock spoke. The King narrowed his eyes at his cousin as if to say as if you aren’t entertaining that idea yourself. “Acknowledge the threat and align yourself with Thanos.”

“I will not hear of this ever again.” Steven snapped. “Do you understand – all of you?” A chorus of agreement – though Brock and Alexander’s tones were not happy. “I will marry (Y/N) Stark in a week. Our marriage will unite the northern kingdoms. Unity is what we all need. Standing together with York – with the Starks – that union will help us prevail in any war.”

Alexander Pierce had been a friend to King Steven’s father. Though, Steven did not know why his father befriended the man. He found Pierce rather insufferable – always pushing an agenda that he says will “better” Brooken but in truth, only benefits himself.

It was Alexander Pierce who set up the betrothal between Queen Sharon and the king. The two had known each other for less than a day before they were wed. The marriage had not been successful for many reasons. Wanting to avoid another failed marriage – and already distrusting Alexander Pierce’s judgement – the king chose his own bride: you.

The brief meeting was adjourned. The king and his two friends hurried off to meet with you and your ladies in the village, leaving Brock and Alexander murmuring to themselves.

“That was our one opportunity. He will not hear of if again. I know my cousin. His mind is already made.” Brock muttered. “I do not see how he was made king. He’s boneless, the self-righteous arse.”

Alexander chuckled. “Oh, Rumlow, your cousin has indeed made a fine king. He’s lead Brooken to victory on the battlefield so many times. Smart one, too. He’s evaded our attempts too many times now. He’s even decided to choose his own bride instead of listening to my council. His intuition has always been on his side.”

“We cannot turn him against Stark. We cannot get him to ally with Thanos.”

“Indeed… but perhaps, we can turn his own queen against him. She must’ve already heard the rumors if not in York but here. She just needs a push.”

“»————-　⚜　————-««

When the king arrived, he had not expected the damage. The building had been burnt down. The burnt scent still hung in the air. The crowds that gathered welcomed him, bowing to their monarch.

“Your grace,” Lord Barnes muttered, getting his attention. Though the king searched for you in the crowds, he nodded to Lord Barnes to show his friend that he was listening. “This may be the first time the people see you and their future queen interact. It’s imperative to give a good impression.”

“Of course,” Steven nodded. He spotted a fiery haired woman cut through the crowds and recognizing her immediately. “Lady Natasha!” The woman stopped in her tracks as the king stalked towards her. She bowed to him and threw Lord Barnes a small smile, one he gladly returned. “Where’s (Y/N)?”

Before the red head could respond, your voice rang out throughout the crowd. Steven’s head snapped in its direction to catch a glimpse of you surrounded by villagers. You were handing out various food items to his people. They were the leftovers from the feast the castle had a few nights ago.

He cracked a smile at the sight. Lord Barnes clasped his shoulder. “She will make a fine queen to your people, Steve,” he muttered under his breath.

“Indeed.” Steve felt a sense of pride in seeing you. All you were missing was a crown on your head. His heart raced at the thought. It’s only been a week and you’ve already had such an effect on the man. He stalked towards you with a smile. “Your highness, may I be of assistance?”

You smiled at him as you glanced over to the cart of food behind you. He nodded and stood with you as the both of you gave out the food to the poor. It was safe to assume his people loved you.

“We shall thank Princess (Y/N) of York for her generosity!” the king announced to the people who cheered in response. “Thank you for feeding my people, my love.” Your heart fluttered at hearing those words. You scolded yourself for the feeling. You were not to fall so quickly for the king you barely just met. In turn, Steven wasn’t sure if his words were just for show or genuine, but he was certain that you at his side would be a great addition to his reign – not to mention, he liked having you around altogether.

He snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, inhaling your scent. The smell of rose petals strong in your hair. You laughed as your hand rested on his chest as the people cheered for you both. You have definitely made a wonderful impression.

His loving stare did not go unnoticed by his friends, your ladies, and the people. This was their feature. This was Brooken’s future.

And it seemed bright.

“»————-　⚜　————-««

“I told you he’s not as bad as the rumors made him out to be,” Wanda remarked as she brushed through your hair. The water from your bath left your hair damp while your lady tried to unravel the knots.

“You two have become quite close in our short time here.” Natasha added. “It’s the early morning excursions about the property, isn’t it?”

“He’s different than I assumed, yes,” you agreed with a smile. “However, he does have his moments. I think he’s restrained himself because of our first meeting.”

“Your wounds have healed quite well.” Natasha said, taking your wrist and examining it. The wrist that Steven had grabbed was still scabbing over. The other had healed almost completely, leaving light pink scars around your wrist. “I’m sure King Steven has shown his apologies for this.”

“He’s quite cocky,” you thought aloud. “Though what man isn’t. He is a king after all. His confidence is well placed. He nearly beat me this morning in archery. Though, I split his arrow, winning the game.”

“I’ve never heard of a split arrow?” Wanda asked, furrowing her brows in confusion.

“It’s quite rare, I believe.” Natasha explained. “Your shot must’ve been well aimed, your highness.”

“It was.” You smirked.

“Perhaps cockiness is just a trait that all monarchs eventually develop,” Wanda chided. You three laughed. “I cannot wait until the wedding. The dress you wear will be divine.”

“I wish we could push back the wedding even further,” you confessed. You rubbed at the healing wrist nervously as you remembered about the wedding. It would occur in less than a week. You would be queen of Brooken in less than a week – Steven’s wife in less than a week. “The king and I… We may get along now, but we are still strangers. I’m afraid that this may all be an act – his kindness and his charm. He may still be the monster that I fear the rumors make him out to be.”

Natasha tsked at you as she took your hands in hers. She remembered the stare he had on you when he saw you in the village. His eyes had shined – something the portraits never showed. The glint of a promising future – a loving husband and a great king. “He looks as if he was already in love with you.” Wanda nodded in agreement. You groaned, pulling your wrists from hers. “Why am I the only one concerned about our safety?”

“Because he has not given you any reason to be concerned.” Natasha said. You lifted your scabbed wrist with your brows raised.

Before she could rebut, there was a knock on the door. “Come in!” You called.

Ser Pietro opened the door and Lord Barnes walked in. Natasha suddenly stood and straightened out her dress. He bowed to you and nodded to your ladies. His stare lingered on Natasha for a few seconds longer before turning to you.

“King Steven has asked me to deliver a gift,” he smiled. He handed you a box and you cautiously took.

Was this someone’s head? No… There was no one that you could think that the king would have reason to behead. You laid the box on your bed and slowly lifted the lid. A surprised gasp left your lips as you stared at the bow. It was strikingly similar to your own.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured. A note had been placed inside.

Dearest (Y/N),

Upon hearing of your broken bow this morning and reached out to the huntsman. He has a remarkable memory and gave me a detailed description of it. I had one of my talented men in the weaponry recreate it from what the huntsman could recall. It may not perfect or even what you expected, but I do hope that you will enjoy your new bow as I have enjoyed our time together.  

With much love,

Steven.

“Give the king my gratitude, my lord,” you smiled at Lord Barnes who nodded.

“Your presence at court has brought much joy to my king, to my friend.” He said. James glanced over at Natasha once more before leaving. You made a note to ask her about it later.

Wanda took the box as the ladies helped you into bed. Natasha smirked at you as if to say see? Nothing to worry about.

That night, you tossed and turned but was unable to lull yourself to sleep. You kept thinking about the bow and about the kind words in his letter. Perhaps he wasn’t as horrible after all?

Frustrated, you decided to wander about the castle in an effort to tire yourself out. With a candlestand in one hand and your robe wrapped tightly around you, you went off on your adventure.

The castle was different at night. The moonlight illuminated the corridors and left an eerie feeling in your gut. The shadows that casted upon the walls looked as if they were creatures of the night and every turn you made had you jolt in fear.

You heard faint whispers near a staircase that only went down. From your tour, you vaguely remember that this was the pathway to the dungeons underneath the grounds. You had no intention of walking down those steps until you heard a familiar voice riddled with anger. You felt goosebumps rise on your skin upon realization. It was Steven’s voice.

You crept down the stairs, careful not to make a sound. Since Brooken did many things differently than York, you weren’t sure what would condemn someone to the prison. Theft? Perhaps, murder?

“Admit it,” Steven’s voice grew louder the closer you approached. You kept yourself hidden, diminishing your candle’s fire so that you would not be seen. There was a groan in response. There were several groans throughout the prison.

“Water… Please, sire,” someone begged. “We know nothing.”

“Do not lie to your king!” Another voice snapped. It was James’s.

Steven sighed. “We know the truth, but we need a confession. I will grant you freedom if you confess.” You frowned. In York, those sent to prison were given a trial before the king and the nobles of the court. It would be made known what the offense was, and the council would decide the punishment accordingly. But it seemed as if Brooken dealt with their legal affairs privately.

“I will not speak out.” The hoarse voice responded. “I will be loyal until my last dying breath.”

You heard shuffling as King Steven approached the prisoner. “Death I can arrange.” His tone was even but his threat was a promise. His rage radiated and you felt it from your hidden position. “But if you confess now, I can grant you freedom.”

“No.”

An exasperated sigh left the king. “Very well. Pull out each and every one of his teeth until he confesses.” You weren’t sure who the order was for – Lord Barnes? Was there another man there? “If he doesn’t, stretch him until his joints dislocate. Pop them into place then repeat until he confesses because I will have a confession.”

“And if he dies, your grace?”

“Turn his body to ash.” There was no remorse in his voice. There were groans of protest and begging, but the king had already made up his mind.

There were murmurs between the two men – Lord Barnes and the king – but you didn’t pay it much mind. You heard all you needed to. You rushed up the staircase and ran to your room, not caring about the maids and knights who saw you.

You slammed the door shut and ran your hand through your hair. What the hell did you just hear?

The king slowly made his way out of the prison, but suddenly stopped. He stared at the spot you were standing at minutes ago. There was a scent – one that was very different from the putrid smells of the dungeons.

A woman’s scent.

Roses.  

[puckrph]

KEATON HENSON’S “MONUMENT” STARTERS

sentence starters taken from keaton henson’s 2020 album “monument.”

AMBULANCE

‘ i’ll write till there’s nothing left of me. ’ ‘ i’ll cry for help when i need it, thanks. ’ ‘ i’m dancing myself to death. ’ ‘ hold me down, be my ambulance. ’ ‘ i’m empty, but don’t it sound so good? ’ ‘ i’d stop if i could. ’ ‘ i’m half a songwriter, half a man. not fully either. ’ ‘ i’m running out of steam. ’ ‘ are you still listening? ’ ‘ my blood is mostly ink. ’ ‘ don’t leave me here. ’

SELF PORTRAIT

‘ the sun brings up yesterday’s evils and drags them back into the sky. ’ ‘ i have not long enough arms, my love, to reach for the curtains of life. ’ ‘ the days have a thing for believers. ’ ‘ the night has its hands in your eyes. ’ ‘ it may not just be tomorrow. it may be the rest of your life. ’ ‘ here is a song for the lonely. ’ ‘ covered in apathy, carving goodbye in the back of your throne. ’ ‘ this is the fight. ’ ‘ i don’t blame me. ’ ‘ you limp through the small conversations. ’ ‘ the days i’m not swinging for fences, i’m singing for ways to get out.’ ‘ here is a song for the empty, a prayer uttered into the ground. ’

ONTARIO

‘ see how the trees make excuses for me. ’ ‘ i’m mostly medicine now. ’ ‘ please, i wanna feel this around me. ’ ‘ the 4 am sky keeps me alive. ’ ‘ i’ll love the arrogant cold. ’ ‘ i’m off balance, but i feel my soul. ’ ‘ i’m burying me here. ’ ‘ i’ve had a break in my soul. ’ ‘ god bless benevolent cold. ’

CAREER DAY

‘ i’m a certain kind of crazy. ’ ‘ i live in my mind. ’ ‘ i’m deep undercover. ’ ‘ i don’t look like me. ’ ‘ i’m paper thin. ’ ‘ i’m paper thin, just break me in. ’ ‘ i cannot shake death. ’ ‘ i ain’t got much healing left. ’ ‘ i feed myself a line, but it leaves me pretty good at pretending i’m fine. ’ ‘ i can’t find the laughs. ’ ‘ i do things by halves. ’ ‘ i win when you lose. ’

PRAYER

‘ i’m saving you up, all for the day you leave. ’ ‘ i know it’s ending, but i’m on the mend. ’ ‘ speak up. ’ ‘ i’m losing you. ’ ‘ we made a deal. ’ ‘ oh god, don’t make me feel. ’ ‘ i got addicted to us. ’ ‘ darling, you’ve been my greatest defeat. ’ ‘ hate me to death if you must. ’ ‘ don’t let me in. ’ ‘ i’m afraid i’m ablaze with the people i’ve been. ’

WHILE I CAN

‘ my lungs have breath to sing for you, and i have fingers left to cling to you. ’ ‘ i wanna love you while i can. ’ ‘ i’ll make a mess of telling you. ’ ‘ cut me out. i fucking dare you. ’ ‘ i’m a master of denial. ’ ‘ i’ll wear it like a noose. ’ ‘ i want a kid or two. i want to live with you—i want to live with you till we die. ’

BED

‘ my gift to you will be the waking nights. ’ ‘ i don’t wanna talk about it. ’ ‘ i’m sick of waiting for bad news. ’ ‘ am i waiting to lose you? ’ ‘ i’ll grind my teeth down to the nerves again, as long as you are breathing. ’ ‘ you get used to feeling mad. ’ ‘ i am over you. ’ ‘ i am always the captive. ’ ‘ i’ll lie awake for you again. ’ ‘ what use is sleep anyway? ’ ‘ i’ll fail the test. ’ ‘ i love you to death. ’

THE GRAND OLD REASON

‘ faith means death. ’ ‘ if you believed, i believe you’d be leaving. ’ ‘ but you, much like i, don’t know where we will go when we die. ’ ‘ we cling, desperate fingers, onto life. ’ ‘ we’ll all miss you to death when you go. ’ ‘ the crows land wild on the lungs of our youth. ’ ‘ just try to sleep. ’ ‘ the bastard’s home is a hospital bed. ’ ‘ i’m so broken down that i cannot be made. ’ ‘ i’m just so fucking sorry that you are afraid. ’ ‘ i have tried for so long not to cry that i don’t even know if i can. ’ ‘ i’m sure as damn hell gonna try. ’

HUSK

‘ it seems like yesterday that you took my breath away. ’ ‘ how could the world still turn? ’ ‘ we’re not what we thought we were. ’ ‘ must you be leaving so soon? ’ ‘ i was just falling for you. ’ ‘ i’m sorry i’m late. ’ ‘ i was just starting on hoping you’d stay. ’ ‘ the death of a century has sunken its teeth in me. ’ ‘ i’m older than the man i was when i began. ’ ‘ what use is breathing in if i’m nothing more than skin? ’ ‘ i held my tongue when we were young. ’

THESIS

‘ you found a chemical seatbelt for the loneliness we felt. ’ ‘ you told me it would be best if i left! ’ ‘ there’s no lovers here. ’ ‘ there’s nothing to see here. ’ ‘ it’s an elegant thesis. yeah, the structure is decent, but it lacks catachresis. ’ ‘ i fear i won’t feel it. ’ ‘ you know you don’t need this. ’

BYGONES

‘ i’m afraid to let myself be frightened. ’ ‘ i could have my reasoning just to let this season and those bygone be bygones. ’ ‘ i write songs to wake me. ’ ‘ every course breaks me apart, my heart. ’ ‘ where else do you want me? ’ ‘ i might as well just hold my demons. ’ ‘ am i right or am i wrong? ’ ‘ i get sick of all my songs. don’t sing the words, just read between them. ’ ‘ i play till my fingers bleed just to get you out of me. ’ ‘ i’ll make it hurt to me. ’ ‘ i wrote down a symphony just to take my mind off all the leaving i’ve done. ’ ‘ i can’t paint it out of me. ’ ‘ all i get is bruises on my knees. ’ ‘ i try hard to leave it. ’ ‘ i cannot write myself a story i like. ’ ‘ i don’t want to be the best. ’ ‘ i am weary. let me rest. ’ ‘ i’m the reason i can’t sleep. ’ ‘ i’m afraid of everyone. ’ ‘ i give up. ’ ‘ i’m going to live if it kills me. ’

[yawnjunie]

so you’re the artsy type, huh ❦ cbg (1)

Genre: fluff, university au, crack (get ready for a bad take on comedy)

Pairing: broke artist!reader x art sponsor!beomgyu

Word count: 7k

Summary: After spending way too much time chasing after an impossible dream, you weren’t too sure you wanted to continue with your lifelong passion— art. One eventful day at the museum steered you onto a road full of twists and turns, and you unexpectedly found yourself wading deeper into murky water with your new employer.

A/N: a huge thank you to @noiaeu​ and @halohyuka​ for being my beta readers! anyways here is a long overdue fic that was a 20k+ word monstrosity but is now a series. happy reading!

— blu and struz

You tapped your feet absentmindedly against the grimy tiles of the cheap burger chain as you waited. The atmosphere that usually felt bustling and welcoming now felt stuffy as your stomach churned each passing second. The waitress walked past your seat as she served the customers behind you, the fragrant aroma of the burgers on her tray prompting a vicious growl from your stomach. Sighing, you checked the time on your phone: 8:52pm. Scrolling past the inactive conversations with your “friends” (you didn’t really know what to call them because you tried to ask them out and got rejected; you’d kept those conversations anyway because you were too attached to them), you sent a quick message to a number you wish you didn’t need to text today. Without a second thought, you picked up your belongings and left the small burger shop.

Thank goodness, you knew just the perfect place to drown your sorrows in.

You called for the nearest taxi to the small food shop by the name of Mrs. Lee’s Mandu House.

“What happened this time?” A stout lady with an apron asked, peeking her head out of the kitchen, setting down a large bowl of dumplings in front of you. She made her way to the condiments shelf. “Kimchi?”

“Yes, please. I got stood up again.” You grumbled, stuffing a large dumpling into your mouth ravenously. Then, speaking through mouthfuls of food, you continued. “Maybe I should just stop trying altogether. Change my major to agricultural studies and move to the countryside while I’m at it.”

Food had never tasted so good! The savory filling of the dumplings literally melted in your mouth, and soon the blaring sound of the old AC and the sound of the kdrama from the TV had just blended into the background. It was nice not having to listen to anything.

“Aw, don’t say that.” The woman replied as she set down a pot of kimchi and a plate of kimbap on your table. The friendly ahjumma took her seat across from you and set down a bag of melon seeds. “Trust me, it’s going to be hard. You’re just in your first year of college! You’ll get there someday.” Then, she continued on to tell you about other people she knew who had it harder than you, but all that faded into the background noise, along with the AC and the TV. That sentence was the only thing you heard, and although there weren’t any lemons in the soup, everything that you ate suddenly started tasting sour. Sometimes, even the best food cannot drown out the bitterest words.

You’ll get there someday.

Foomp. You flopped onto your bed with a small grunt as your back met the soft mattress. Throwing off your glasses to the side, you massaged your eyeballs and then looked at the ceiling. It was grey. The same grey that you saw before going to sleep at night, the very same grey that greeted you when you awoke in the morning to another unexciting day. The more you stared at it, the more the popcorn ceiling looked just like a grey mass with a few monotone specks here and there.

You were always told to look to the future and stop dwelling on the past. And that was a long shot, given that all you saw in front of you was a blurry ceiling.

What is this feeling? You let yourself sink a little deeper into your mattress, lazily shifting your gaze to the left, where you saw your huge Gabriel Garcia Marquez poster taped to the wall. Solitude. Looking back, you supposed that was how you’d been living your life thus far.

Doing jobs here and there, never really achieving anything big.

Single as hell.

It was days like this that made you feel not quite sad, but just really demotivated. A reminiscent smile flickered on your face as you turned your head to stare at the wall, unto which the light that peeked through the overcast sky cast a faint shadow. Words like “lonely” and “outcast” didn’t mean a thing to you. The fact of the matter was, you didn’t have anyone, and the universe sure didn’t put an effort to sugarcoat that fact.

Rolling lazily to the edge of the bed, you finally sat yourself up. You walked over to your desk, pulled out the wooden chair, and turned on the lamp. Then, you took a moment to tie up your hair before looking down at what was lying under the spotlight of the lamp.

Amidst the blizzard of eraser shavings and the familiar scent of freshly shaved wood stood the lead outline of a girl. Shoulder-length hair up in a high ponytail, a soft, rounded nose, chapped lips, and blank, unsuspecting eyes with dark circles hanging below them. Looks like she’s never seen a day of joy in her life. Looking into the mirror standing to the left on your desk, a very tired girl with a dark face stared right back. Dusting off the eraser shavings into the trash bin next to the desk, you commended yourself for the superb self-portrait. 

At the insistence of the tightness in your right wrist and the crick in your neck, you set the pencil down and extended your arms to stretch your back. When your eyes fell upon the drawing once more, a wave of disappointment washed you back onto the shore of frustration. Yet another addition to the ever-growing pile of wasted white paper. A part of you argued that art was not a waste, which was true enough. Art made by you, however, was a different story.

What happened to me? All that time, effort, and energy never really amounted to much. After all, you’d only seen the world in black and white. It was as if someone took a giant paint tube and squirted an awful lot of grey paint everywhere.

After all, who’d ever heard of an artist who couldn’t tell orange from blue?

–––

Even the song playing in the background mocked you with every word.

♪ I see trees of green,

red roses too ♪

♪ I see them bloom,

for me and you ♪

♪ and I think to myself

what a wonderful world ♪

You glanced around tiredly as you saw your classmate’s boyfriend carry a stack of canvases for them. For someone who, one: saw the world in grey, and two: had never gone on a date, the world was anything but wonderful. You felt your eyelids drooping despite the hard, wooden stool jutting into your buttcheeks. Drowsily, you turned your gaze to your art pieces. Noticing the other students coming in to set up their pieces, you straightened up your back and set your bag down on the stool. You took a deep breath and swung your arms nervously in an attempt to garner a sense of purpose and hope. You got this! You whispered encouraging phrases to yourself under your breath, smiling at the students who bothered to greet you first.

Today was your first time participating in a student exhibition. Although it was quite unconventional for first year students to be showcasing their work in the advanced exhibition, your teacher had been nice enough to make a spot for you. Well, it was more like you practically begging her to consider you, because of your current family situation. You terribly did not want to sound like that broke college student™, but sometimes, a little bit of courage to fight against the stone cold reality was useful. And of course, Ms. Kim, being the benevolent soul she was, granted you special rights to participate.

This year, the exhibition was being held in the empty room at the Museum of Modern Art. Attendance of the students was optional, but a good handful of them came, hoping to get a professional review, or even a sponsor for their art. The moment you walked in, you held your breath—the entire room was empty, all six surfaces painted white. It was the brightest room you’d ever been in, yet the temperature seemed to drop 100 degrees.

It’s fine. This time, things will be different, you told yourself in an attempt to shake off the dread that settled in the pit of your stomach. Fifth time’s the charm, after all.

It may have been your first time participating in a college exhibition, but you’d participated in countless art competitions as a kid. You were like a wildfire, and there was no award for a competition you entered that you didn’t win. Now, it felt like you were back to base one. After all, who has that easy of a life? Those days of your easy childhood life were long gone.

You tried not to think much as you sat uncomfortably next to your paintings. For the first hour or so, you made a point to look each passing person in the eye, a wide smile plastered on your face. The second hour, the corners of your mouth started to twitch beyond your control. By the third hour, you found yourself staring at people’s shoes more often than their faces. As the minutes ticked by, you kept your eyes trained intently on the floor, mouth pressed firmly closed. Glancing around the room, you tried to take your mind off of your worries. But you couldn’t help but be envious of your classmates, who were getting noticed by the professional guests.

That’s okay, there’s always next time. Guess today just wasn’t my day.

It was beginning to feel like no day was your day. A warm sensation pricked at the corners of your eyes when a voice pulled you out of your thoughts. 

“Ma’am, excuse me.” A woman in a worn out blue outfit approached your stand. 

Being as desperate as you were, you hastily wiped away your tears from all the yawning and slapped a smile on your face, mustering up the peppiest voice you could manage. “Hey! How can I help you? As you can see, I work exclusively in grayscale, and I mostly do portrai–” “Miss–” the lady interrupted, “it’s closing time. Could you please pack your things?”

Upon processing the sight of the tattered mop in her hand, realization hit you like a truck, and not just any ordinary truck— it was a Belaz 75710 filled with 496 tons of rocks and sharp glass. That was a fun fact you stumbled upon while scrolling on Instagram; the fact that you somehow retained this useless information made you silently curse yourself. Your smile was frozen in place as you gave a series of curt nods. “Oh. Okay, I’ll start packing.”

The kind woman nodded back and started to walk away, but stopped and turned just a few steps away. “Don’t feel too down. Sometimes, life just doesn’t go the way you want it to. It’ll get better, trust me.”

“Yeah.” You replied coldly, not bothering to mask your sadness. Attempting to muster a small smile in gratitude for her kind words, you gave her a thumbs up before she left the room. It kind of hurt, getting pity from the janitor. But in a way, you felt a little comforted. At least you knew you weren’t the only person struggling. Robotically, you placed the canvases onto your utility cart one by one, then started folding up the easels. When the janitor’s footsteps had faded away, the only thing disrupting the silence was the rain. 

Plip. Plop. With the accompaniment of the beating of the raindrops on the rooftop that rang in your ear like a dull symphony, it only seemed natural for your tears to fall. And this time, there was nobody to interfere with your sob session. 

And on that afternoon, in the empty art hall, you cried your heart out. There was only one question that gnawed at the back of your mind relentlessly, like a famished dog on a bone twice its size. Should I just give up on art? The thought of it just made you cry even harder. Art was your everything.

From the moment you’d grasped the thin body of the paintbrush on your doljabi, you’d fallen in love with art. Throughout your childhood, you’d spent your days drawing. From drawing on plain computer paper to painting entire murals on your bedroom walls - you did it all. Everyone was sure you’d become an artist when you grew up. You’d even kept a money jar by your bed, which you’d used to store money for new art supplies and eventually, art school. You were happy. You had a good eye for color. 

Thunder crashed outside as that memory resurfaced in your mind. Back then, you drew like there was no tomorrow when you could see colors. Until the world became dark when your colors, your precious colors were taken away. And the world remained dark ever since. They all pitied you, sending a sigh your way in condolence for your loss. You didn’t need or want their pity, of course. All you’d ever wanted was an answer, a reason to why they left your eyes. 

You wanted to blame it on something, but what could you do? Every night you prayed, praying desperately for your colors back. But every morning, the ceiling remained grey. So did the sky when you walked to work. Pushing your shabby cart with a loose wheel down the hallway full of eccentric art pieces, you didn’t even spare a glance at them. Well, other than to avoid being noticed by the few people who were still in the museum, to which you hid your swollen face in the opposite direction and choked back your sobs. Well, what can you do now, y/n? It’s not your first time participating in an exhibition anyway. There’s probably someone out there having it harder than you, so suck it up! Everything will be better once you get back home… 

Just when you were nearing the entrance of the museum, you heard a different pair of footsteps from your own behind you.

“Hey.” You jumped out of your skin at the tap on your left shoulder. Caught by surprise, you found yourself stumbling backwards into your cart. You lost your footing and down crashed your rear end. By attempting to hold onto the cart handle for balance, your art pieces now seemed to fall in slow motion, the cart suspended in the air as your mouth hung open in horror. You reached out to grab it, but unfortunately, you were an aching 2 centimeters short of saving your artwork. The cart toppled on top of your canvases with a comical crack, wooden splinters flying everywhere. The empty utility cart squealed defeatedly as it toppled to its side, a loose wheel still spinning.

You felt your head spin even faster, as you grew increasingly frustrated by your inability to comprehend what had just happened. Holy shit.

Strewn across the floor, battered and broken, lay hours upon hours of your time, your hard-earned money, along with the last strains of your hope of becoming an artist. F*ck!

Eyes wide and mouth agape, you turned to face the perpetrator of the tragedy. 

This is the part where he apologizes and promises to make it up to me, then gives me his contact info and we go on a date and he falls for me and we live happily ever after. Or so you hoped, you thought. The thought was so ridiculous that you could have burst out into laughter if it hadn’t been for the fact that the fruit of your blood, sweat, and tears was now a bunch of broken wood and torn cotton on the floor. F you and your last brain cell, y/n. Get yourself together and snap out of it. You were convinced that you were so sleep deprived from your K-drama binging session this morning at 4am that you’d convinced yourself that you were living the next episode.

Chances were low that the two of you would get together and live happily ever from an offense like this, but even so, he would have to compensate for the damages somehow. Now that you came back to reality, you realized that you couldn’t even make out what the guy in front of you looked like. “Okay, but what if he’s like, your next patron or something.” You don’t know if you muttered that out loud, but your odd behavior was really annoying you today. Shut up, it's not like he's Song Kang! Stop it! Nevertheless, you bet on the Balenciaga slides that he was wearing that he would pull out a business card the next moment.

You stared into the boy’s eyes expectantly and he met your gaze. You felt your pulse quicken as he opened his mouth to speak, eagerly awaiting your compensation. Hello hello, my next patron. This is the moment that marks my upgrade to a better life.

“I am so, so sorry about this.”

“You should be.”

As he spoke, the boy pulled his cap lower and threw on his hood. “Not just about me breaking your paintings, but also this.” Dammit, what have I gotten myself into?

And then he bolted.

🏃 💨

“Wha– hey! Where do you think you’re going?!”

He slammed his body against the glass door and ran into the rain while you followed in close pursuit. However, after a few wobbly steps, it occurred to you that you weren’t exactly dressed for the occasion, so you took off your heels and continued the hunt barefoot. 

Still, even under normal circumstances, you weren’t much of a track star. Wearing a blazer with suit pants and no shoes wasn’t helping your chances either, and the weather didn’t seem to plan on making things any easier.

The two of you ran through the heavy rain like cat and mouse. Clenching your teeth and your fists, you chased after the boy. He ran about two blocks before you caught up to him. As your calves grew sore, you considered hurling one of your heels at him.

The boy slowed down for a couple of seconds, looking around frantically. Mr. Kim.....! I told you to wait for me out here—!

Heaving a sigh, he turned around and began to run in another direction. And although he'd hate to admit it, today was one of the days where he had no choice but to admit that his choice of footwear today was a fatal flaw.

Somehow, despite the odds against you, you weren’t the one who ate the pavement. The boy tripped over the curb and slammed into the sidewalk, bellyflopping straight into a gargantuan puddle. Those Balenciagas did not help him run through the rain very well. You laughed in triumph and squatted next to his almost-lifeless body. 

“Gotchu now, you jer–” 

Boom! The world went white for a second, illuminated by the blinding clap of lightning. In an instant, the downpour increased tenfold, the raindrops now feeling like bullets against your skin. 

“Okay, maybe this isn’t the best place to have a conversation.” 

–––

The two of you trudged through the rain—or, more accurately— you dragged the boy through the rain, your grip on his hoodie sleeve iron-tight. When you finally reached your car, you opened the passenger door and he went in obediently. From an outsider’s point of view, you might’ve been mistaken as an undercover cop. In fact, you were sure feeling like one as you apprehended the criminal.

You went around to the back and opened up the trunk, where after rifling through months' worth of empty bottles, fabric bags for shopping, and a variety of other car junk, you finally found your stash of somewhat clean clothes. After careful consideration, you chucked a worn hoodie and the swimming shorts you’d worn to the beach last year over the seat. Just in case, you also tossed your first-aid kit over. You threw your heels in and swapped them for a pair of nylon flip flops before slamming the trunk closed. 

You went back to the passenger’s side and opened the door. Taking in the figure of the drenched and bleeding boy, you kind of felt sorry for him. Which was stupid, considering he had just wrecked your life’s work and made a run for it. You tilted your head back and sighed, trying to sort your thoughts out. 

With all of your best art pieces now reduced to splinters, it was a cold, hard fact that you weren’t going to get a sponsor. Besides, even before they’d been smashed into smithereens, nobody had been willing to give you a chance. The probability of you finding a sponsorship was like the graph of the height of a ball thrown from a cliff at sea level, or the number √-1. It was not just in the negatives, but it was also imaginary.

Taking a sharp inhale, you talked as quickly as you could. “Listen. I’m going to go get what’s left of my art from the gallery. Just change your clothes and patch yourself up, then you can leave.” You paused to dig out a few crumpled dollars from your wallet, which you promptly threw at him. 

“Here, take this to get a taxi. I don’t know how far you live, but that’s all I have. Don’t get me wrong– I still think you’re a massive schmuck. And there’s nothing you can do to fix the damage you’ve caused.” Despite your best effort to remain composed, your voice cracked a little at the end. You stopped talking before you were to break out into tears again.

Without waiting to hear what the douchebag had to say, you slammed the door closed and strode through the rain back to the gallery, where your pieces still lay broken on the ground where you’d left them. A part of you was hoping that maybe, by some magic or miracle, the whole thing had been a dream, and nothing really happened. 

But reality was as cold as stone, and you were powerless to change it. So, as you always did when confronted with the unchangeable, you picked yourself up and carried on, struggling against the current. 

By the time you wheeled the broken canvases back to your car, the boy was long gone, all traces of his presence vanished except for the dampness of the left side passenger seat. You buckled on your seatbelt and tuned into your favorite radio station, then sped off into the summer storm. The storm, your artwork, it was all so out of the blue– well, in your case, grey.

The situation on the freeway was like a stuffy nose: irritated and congested. In fact, it would’ve been faster to moonwalk down the road. To make matters even worse, instead of music, the radio station was streaming ad after ad. Is this even legal? Exasperatedly, you tuned into a different station, then another one, but to no avail; all of them were on ad break. 

It was frustrating enough that the gallery was a complete flop, not to mention that your best art was demolished in a hit and run and that you were sitting soaking wet on a leather seat stuck in the middle of traffic. Now, even the radio had turned against you. You shut it off and sat in silence.

Thump. You sighed and leaned your head back against the seat, willing the migraine that was building up in your head to f*ck off. After craning your head to check the backseat one more time, to your vexation, you found that the asshat hadn’t even bothered to close the first aid kit.

Muttering obscenities under your breath, you reached for the kit, cracking your inflexible spine 4 times in the process. You rummaged through its contents, straightening them out, counting how many were left, and you were about to slam the lid closed when you saw the note. 

XXX-XXX-XXXX

“Well, gee, that’s REAL helpful.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the ten numbers scrawled on the note. Your half a brain cell told you to quit being stupid and toss that note out the window.

The rest of your stupid self told you to call it. I mean, why not? You cursed yourself for how your brain worked– or rather, didn’t work– sometimes.

You licked your lips in brief contemplation before punching in the numbers in. The person on the other end picked up immediately. 

“Hello, welcome to Papa John’s Pi–”

You hurled your phone into the backseats and ripped the note up, throwing the scraps into the air like confetti before continuing the wearisome ride down through the rain. 

–––

It took an eternity, but you made it back to your apartment, where you promptly crashed onto the couch. As per usual, you spent the rest of your waking hours scrolling through baking videos, even though you had neither the ingredients nor the time to be making any of the confections. At around 8pm, exhausted from crying and the events of the day, you dozed off without having a bite of the frozen pizza that’d just finished baking in the oven.

Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Bzzt! Your dreamless slumber was disturbed by the vibration of a string of text notifications and the glow that lit up the dark ceiling. Still half-asleep, you blindly felt around for your phone and attempted to read the message through bleary eyes.

It was from an unknown number.

Rubbing your eyes to clear out the nasty gunk, you sat up and read the message again, this time with clearer vision. 

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] Hello, sorry for ruining your paintings today. I will make it up to you.

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] Thanks for bothering to call, let’s meet at this address to talk about your compensation. My parents can’t know that I did this so it would be great if you could keep this a secret :(

What the f*ck. You muttered under your breath, eyes half shut. Did I call anyone? In your half-asleep state, you didn’t bother to recall. For a second, you considered blocking the number. But just in case this was just one of your dumbass friends who changed their number, you decided to give that person a reply.

[You] hello? is this papa john’s?? i would like a cheese pizza

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] oh sorry the voicemail was a prank for someone else

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] i’m the guy from the art museum earlier, remember

[You] okay why do you have my number

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] because you called me

[You] right. okay, what do you want

[You] unless you want to pay me back for all those damages back there, no i am not interested in anything else sry i’m a very busy person you know

You hesitated a second before pressing the send button. You’d just sent a lie; in fact, you weren’t really that busy. Apart from your part time job at the boba shop, you were actually quite free most of the time. During the summer, at least. In fact, your screen time had gone up by 42%, your daily average now totaling to a whopping 12 hours. After a minute or so of silence, you threw your head back onto your pillow and let out a loud sigh of relief. Peace at last! It also made you quite happy that the person who texted you was in the least, not some weird scammer. 

Ping! You celebrated too soon. Reaching for your phone groggily, you read the new message.

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] okay then i was going to ask if you were free tomorrow

Am I being asked out? You squinted at your bright phone screen in the dark. You might have been nearsighted, but you weren’t illiterate in pick-up lines.

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] i want to return the clothes you lent me

[You] it’s fine, you can keep that

Oh good, he was talking about the clothes, not anything else. Your millisecond of relief ended quickly when he sent another message.

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] oh also it would be great if we could meet up anyway? i want to talk to you about something that i had been meaning to say for a while

Oh, god. I knew it wasn’t just about the clothes. Lonely as you were, you would shoot yourself in the foot if you got into any relationship without landing a stable job or having any money. Scoffing amusedly, you stared at the screen as he continued to type. But dating someone like this? Never in a million years. Turning over to your other side, you thought about the many ways you could reject him.

[You] no sorry :(

[XXX-XXX-XXXX] we should set a date at the cannoli restaurant to talk about your compensation costs. i’m extremely sorry for ruining your beautiful artwork, and i know that my apologies will do nothing to change your current situation. since this is my fault, i’m willing to pay any amount you request (and i’ll pay to the best of my capabilities)... i’m assuming $50,000 would be enough to cover the costs for most of the damage? if monetary compensation doesn’t work for you, we can discuss other forms of compensation as well.

[You] i know it may not seem like it but i’m actually caught up in too much work to have time for dating anyone. you see, it’s just that i have lots of work on the side so i can’t really spare time at the moment. please don’t take this personally haha i’m sure you’ll find someone,,, like i don’t know how to say this but yeah…..you don’t wanna be w someone like me, it’s me not you

Huh? Just as you sent your message, another message popped up before yours. And if your life had a background narration, this very moment would have been “and in that moment he knew. He fvcked up.” 

Fml.

With just one single message, you perhaps have ruined the only god-given opportunity to turn your life around ever. He’d just offered you money to cover the costs of your broken paintings... now that you thought about it, he could even be your patron! You couldn’t even get a patron even if you went out of your way to look for one on Craigslist, pestered Ms. Kim for any news from the Art Teacher’s Association, or even begged random people on the street in hopes one out of the million people would be willing to promote your art. Now, someone was asking to compensate you with tons of money, and you’d just rejected him in the most embarrassing way possible. 

[You] oh shoot

[You] i mean wrong chat, uh can you please stay on hold, i will get back to your compensation offer, yeah i will see you at the restaurant sometime thanks

XXX-XXX-XXXX is typing…

You did not bother to see what he had to say. Hurtling your phone onto your carpet, you let out a guttural scream of “I AM SUCH A DUMB@$$$” before pulling the strings on your hoodie tightly. And for the second time that day, you cried.

———

Leaving behind the upsetting events from a couple of days ago, you listlessly shuffled through the entrance. It was Saturday morning, and that meant groceries. The local Asian market was one of your favorite places to be; breathing in the familiar blend of spices that hung in the air was a cathartic feeling. The corners of your lips were turned slightly upwards as you bent to grab a basket.

First stop was the meat section, where the bugged-out eyes of dead fish followed you as you walked down the aisle. Cooking raw animal flesh wasn't really your thing, so you simply picked up a package of pre-cooked chicken and went on your way.

Next came the produce section where you felt up all the tomatoes, only bagging the ones that felt the right amount of firm and soft. You also added a pack of bok choy and mushrooms, perfect for cooking up a lazy soup.

Now that you were nearing the end of your expedition, it was time to head into the best part of the store: the snack aisle. Sometimes, when you were feeling more down than usual, you would blow the whole sum of your weekly grocery savings on off-brand shrimp chips and chocolate banana Pocky. One by one, you were doing all the things your mom had told you not to do when you moved out, from coating the entirety of your insides with nothing but sodium and sugar to shifting your sleep schedule by 15 hours. 

What was next, the-no-dating-boys-until-you’ve-gotten-your-Master’s-and-have-a-7-figure-job rule? You scoffed and rolled your eyes. Even if your stomach was totally trashed and your sleep schedule was nonexistent, you would never let yourself fall that far.

As you stepped foot into the chips aisle, you beheld the holy grail. From Hello Panda to rice crackers, wasabi peas to Yan Yan sticks complete with a chocolate dip, cream wafers to dried seaweed, you were in a sea of temptation. Being that broke college student™, you just gulped and kept walking. I can just feast on these goodies with my eyes.

Your initial plan had been to just walk through the aisles to admire and drool over snacks you knew you couldn’t afford, but you were stopped in your tracks when you reached the instant noodles section. 

At the end of the aisle, the shelf was bare except for a single lone pack. Even from a distance, you recognized it, all right; there was no mistaking the outline of your favorite instant ramen brand. 신라면. More like 神라면 (it’s more than just spicy noodles— it’s noodles made by the gods) you thought, eyes already tightly clutching at the packaging from 5 feet away.

From many a sleepless night of binge-watching third-rate rom-com dramas (though you cringed thinking back on it, this was an integral phase of your dark “past”), you knew where this was going–– but you weren’t going to sit around and let yourself fall into some overused trope. You gripped your basket tight as you swiftly made your way over to the shelf, just about setting a world record for speedwalking with a basket.

Sure enough, if you had been one second slower, you would’ve been ensnared in a sticky situation. Just as you were snatching up your prey like the pterodactyl you were, another figure was rounding the corner. Another broke college student™, it seemed, judging by the state of their hoodie, which was pulled over their messy hair, the strings tied in a bow to make sure the hood wouldn’t fall. Even though their face was concealed by their hood, you could see their reaction as they connected the dots from the bare shelf to the ramen pack in your hand.

“Hey–” they started, reaching towards you, but you promptly dropped the pack into your basket, spun on your heel, and noped out of the aisle before you could be confronted. You felt sorry because you could sympathize with their situation, but you were in no place to be kind to others. Not in this dog-eat-dog world. To survive, you’d have to stay on top of the food chain.

You were about to fall in line when you remembered that you were all out of Sriracha sauce. You could deal with giving up your Pocky and shrimp chips as long as you had your favorite condiment in stock; no matter how down you were, scrambled eggs with a heaping squirt of Sriracha always took you up to Cloud Nine. If you were going to leave something behind, it would never be the Sriracha sauce.

After grabbing a bottle from the condiment aisle, you scanned the checkout desks for the shortest line. Luckily, a new checkout desk had just opened on the left, so you scampered over and placed your basket onto the counter. The clerk was a kind-looking old woman, but was surprisingly agile for her age. As you waited for her to bag the large span of items that belonged to the grandpa in front of you, you opened up your phone to check your budget. You eyed the message app with two unread messages temptingly before going into your bank app. This was a lucky trip~ thankfully ramen isn’t too expensive. Even if it wasn’t on my grocery list, a few cents won’t make too much a difference. I think I can spare enough to get a Pocky next time.

At long last, the grandpa shuffled away with his cart filled with some veggies, a thick stack of newspapers, and an unusually large stash of rice crackers. While the clerk scanned and bagged your items, you continued to fiddle with your phone until she cleared her throat. 

“Would you like a single receipt, or two separate ones? Because there’s a divider between your items.”

“Excuse me?” “You and your boyfriend. By the way, you guys look really cute together, especially with your hoodies~ are you on a date?”

You spun around only to come face to face with the broke college kid from the ramen aisle. Well, that’s awkward. The cashier must have been blind or deaf (or both) because you didn’t even interact with that boy. You stole glances of the customer through your peripheral vision, trying to see what he looked like. Hmm, do I know him? He looked uncannily familiar. Just then, another realization dawned on you. A terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad one. Your expression quickly changed from one of confusion to one of pure shock.

Surprise, surprise. It was the douche from the art gallery. And he was wearing your old hoodie.

“I-I don’t know him.” Before he could open his mouth to say anything, you quickly looked away, feigning ignorance. Unfortunately for you, the old clerk had seen much in her day and your little ruse wasn’t going to slip past her that easily. 

“From the flushed look on your face and the stammer in your voice, I’m pretty sure you do. And I’m sure he would agree, wouldn’t you, lover boy~?”  

And… cue to the horrified look on lover boy’s face. The conflict that was playing out in his mind showed on his face; he knew that if he answered this wrong, he would be facing your wrath.

“Uh, well, the thing is…” He shot you a nervous glance, but your features were stone cold. At a total loss for what to say, the boy just trailed off and turned his eyes to his basket. Following his gaze, you looked over his items and immediately recoiled in disgust. 

Not a single leafy green (grey) in sight, no meat, no rice, not even one of the food groups necessary to sustain life. Strawberry ice cream mochi, Taiyaki, strawberry Melona bars, Choco Pies, strawberry Hi-Chew, strawberry Chocorooms, strawberry Pocky–– it seemed that strawberry was a recurring theme among his groceries.

Even though the sheer amount of sugar made you gag, a pang of jealousy flashed across your face. That was the life you’d longed for ever since you finished high school: living off of nothing but sugar and carbs, looking like a bum and not giving a damn about it, just chilling. 

Unfortunately, with the number of failures and setbacks that stained your past, a carefree life was something you could no longer afford. 

“Yeah, okay, we’ve met,” you cut in, saving the boy from the tricky situation. Skeptic, the clerk stared into your unblinking eyes for what seemed to be a solid 15 seconds before shrugging and handing you your groceries. You snatched up your fabric bag and went on your way, walking fast. The color in your cheeks was probably the same as a tomato. Your least favorite fruit.

Why him, of all the places? Why, universe? Where did I go wrong? You were about to drop dead from embarrassment. As you closed your eyes, you could see your tombstone: “Rest in Peace y/n, died alone and patron-less.”

However, what you didn’t know was that your day was about to get worse. A whole lot worse. It all started when you felt a familiar tap on your left shoulder. I swear– You took a deep breath in and let it out slowly to compose yourself and answered without turning around. 

“What in God’s good name do you want. And why are you wearing hobo clothes.” My clothes, you realized, a tiny bit weirded out.

“They’re comfy,” he pouted, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his newfound hoodie as if to show off. “Anyways, how come you didn’t check your phone earlier?

“Oh, uh,” you felt the pressure in your head rising as you recalled how you threw your phone down in embarrassment and cried. “Sorry, I was feeling kinda down because a certain someone sorta trashed my life’s work and my only chance of being successful in the industry, sooooo yeah. My bad.” 

Sniff. You looked up, startled, only to find that the boy in front of you had tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. His mouth was clamped closed, but his bottom lip was quivering and his eyebrows were turned up, resembling a small child trying to keep himself from bursting into tears after falling and scraping his knee on the pavement. “I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

Well shit. There were two ways you could go about this: one, let your superego do the talking like a good person and prevent the boy from having a total meltdown in the middle of the sidewalk. The second was letting your id run rampant, taking full advantage of his feelings of remorse and overall just being a jerk. Maybe you could be distant and lacking in empathy, but you weren’t an asshole because you wanted to be one. 

“Listen, I’m sorry for calling you a schmuck. A schmuck would not have bothered to keep in contact and a schmuck would not be on the verge of tears out of guilt. ...I accept your apology.” You were going to say that what he did was unforgivable, but you decided no to say that. After a pang of guilt jabbed into you, you bit your lip and softened your tone. 

“I know you feel bad, but you don’t need to cry; there’s no way to turn back time. So instead, let’s move forward and keep looking up. I’ll start.” Smiling slightly with a tilted head, you held out your hand. “Hi, my name is y/n. I know that we’ve technically met, but this is the first time we’ve met met. So, nice to meet you.”

He wiped his tears away with the butt of his palm and tried to return the smile, though his was more watery. “Nice to meet you, y/n. I’m Beomgyu.” You noticed the corners of his lips curl upwards in a small smile as he took your hand, shaking it firmly.

There was a pause of awkward silence as you let go of his hand, wiping your sweaty palm on your sweatpants. Well that was the most awkward introduction I’ve ever had in my life. Clearing your throat, you spoke again to clear the tense atmosphere.

“About my compensation.”

[raitrolling]

Present Day, Present Time

[Easy Reading Version on Toyhou.se]

-- alluringMisdirection [AM] began trolling autonomousMachinations [AM] --

AM: Oh shlt slnce when was lt your bday??

AM: All g tho, l got a place ln mlnd ;)

AM: Obvlously lt’s gonna be a secret, so don’t even bother asklng! Surprlse partles are the best partles, y’know. And lt’s gotta be good for the blg 1-0!

AM: So you better get hype- or, as hype as whatever’s posslble for you 8)

-- alluringMisdirection [AM] ceased trolling autonomousMachinations [AM] --

Callan stood in the homewares section of one of Block 136’s many low-end department stores, hands on his hips and tapping his foot in mild irritation. Predictably, he’d be caught off-guard by Gerrel’s mentioning of his wriggling day coming up. He didn’t forget, of course, he just- Wait, did Gerrel ever mention it before? They’ve known each other for a while and Callan had definitely made him put his wriggling day into his stupidly busy schedule, but he legitimately cannot recall if the redblood had brought up his own before. Huh. Well, whatever, Callan’s going to say that’s Gerrel’s problem to work out, because right now he’s got his own problem. What the hell kind of present does someone with no hobbies want? Most of the time when it comes to presents, Callan would simply grab whatever silly novelty he could find in the clearance sections - A hat with a funny saying on it, some desktop USB gadget, all those stocking stuffer toys made specifically for office 12th Perigees party gifts, the impulse buy bottle openers and fidget spinners at the registers, - it didn’t matter what the gift was, if it was a gift from him then clearly it was the most important! But this time it’s different. It’s not just a gift for someone’s 10th wriggling day, but the wriggling day of someone who it wouldn’t be inaccurate to call Callan’s best friend (who would’ve thought? Of all people!). A real pro at gift-giving too, the photo book he gave last Quadrants’ Day had touched Callan’s heart far greater than any novelty chocolate or humorous greeting card ever could. So now he’s obligated to be thoughtful. Ugh, thinking.

He acknowledges that the logical gift would be something practical, Gerrel does seem to like things that are useful and would make him more productive. With how much he goes on about ‘healthy eating’ and ‘cooking your own meals’, he’d probably be over the moon if he unwrapped one of those air fryer things people keep talking about. But as Callan stared the boxes of kitchen appliances down, he couldn’t help but think one thing...

An air fryer is fucking boring.

Yes, sure, it’s the perfect gift for someone like him. He’d appreciate it! He’d appreciate it a lot more than the corner store chocolates he received from the greenblood for Quadrants’ Day, or the reindeer antler hat from 12th Perigees. He’d probably get a lot of use out of it too, if what the recipe books conveniently placed next to the display says is true. You can cook chicken, vegetables, brownies and muffins, fish and chips, mozzarella sticks… But, it may be a gift from Callan, but it’s not a gift from Callan. There’s no pizzaz, no style, nothing that screams “This is a gift from the one and only Callan Ranpoe, the best troll you’ve ever known! Accept no substitutes!''. It’s a gift someone would buy for a hivewarming party, or something his rich boss would slip in with the weekly wages just to remind everyone of how much money he has. Not a gift from someone known for their sense of humour and great taste in, well, everything.

Callan’s train of thought is interrupted by an employee asking if he needs a hand. Some tired-looking brownblood who knows that if they don’t ask every customer who has spent more than thirty seconds standing on one spot this question their boss will have them thrown out on the streets. He dismisses the employee with a wave of his hand, who only responds by parroting that the tea towels and oven mitts have a two-for-one deal tonight only.

Two-for-one… That’s it! Cheap and more fun than some boring appliance!

Not wanting to make it seem like he was inspired by the employee’s suggestion, Callan continues to mull about the appliances section pretending to be interested in the breadmakers and slow cookers before stealthily slipping over to the kitchen accessories section. Sure enough, the tea towels and oven mitts are already looking more to the greenblood’s liking. There’s the towels with funny cooking-related puns (Haha, “Let’s give them something to taco ‘bout”! It’s funny because it’s got tacos on it!), towels covered in cute animal prints (and a very un-cute one covered in horses. Sorry Gerrel, but you truly have the worst lusus), and towels covered in sayings one would find on a Facebook Minions group (which unfortunately, would probably appeal to the redblood’s sense of humour more than anything else…). There’s oven mitts shaped like crab claws and dinosaur heads, some pop culture-themed mitts with references that’d definitely fly over his head, and one that just says the word ‘butter’ repeated on every inch of the fabric. Callan starts picking a couple off the rack, already congratulating himself on his head about how genius this gift is.

But… As he stares down at the dinosaur oven mitt and the tea towels with food puns, the gift still didn’t feel right. There should probably be something… More? To this? If the last present idea was thoughtful but lacks ‘Callan vibes’, then this idea is more Him but less thoughtful or really, wanted. Who wants tea towels for their wriggling day? That’s like giving someone socks and underwear. Callan sighs, dumping the chosen items onto the shelf below instead of hanging them back onto the rack. Putting in the effort for a perfect gift sucks.

Why is this so important? Why does a gift need to be thoughtful, personal, and most importantly, something that would make him think of Callan every time? Maybe it’s to make every moment as memorable as possible to combat the reality that all of Callan’s relationships are fleeting at best. Gerrel seems to be able to recognise him through his psiionics, most likely because altering one’s voice, speech patterns, and quirks in their posture and body language are difficult without specific training that Callan doesn’t have. But a friendship cannot be perpetuated on vaguely familiar quirks alone. What if one night Callan decides he wants to cut his hair? Change the way he dresses- hell, just happens to wear a waistcoat with his symbol printed on the opposite side? Doesn’t tie the bow around his neck correctly? Gerrel would fail to recognise him, and they’d be back at square one. And that’s not to mention the major elephant in the room being Callan’s stints as the prolific Phantom Thief. That wouldn’t be something he could just shrug off and accept, especially when his boss has been one of the thief’s major targets. He doesn’t come across as someone who would be angry to find out about this secret, but… He’s very honest and loyal. It would make sense for him to dob Callan into his boss, someone who values working as much as he does would definitely put his own job over anything else.

But then again… He’s selfless, in that way that makes Callan almost feel bad at letting him take over all the chores in his hive when he probably could do them himself if he could be bothered. Almost. Thank god he doesn’t have to wash dishes any more, and the food Gerrel cooks is way better than anything he could ever make even if he put his mind to it. So maybe he wouldn’t do that. Of course he wouldn’t do that! Even if it doesn’t last, he’s Callan’s friend now. And maybe they might continue to be friends, and- If the greenblood’s ego allows it- Gerrel could learn the truth of his psiionics, and try to work with it. Just as he works with every other eccentricity that makes up Callan’s personality.

… Nothing in this long moment of introspection has given him any more ideas for the perfect 10th wriggling day gift. Goddammit. 

The brownblood continues floating around the aisles, keeping an eye on Callan in the way one would monitor a known shoplifter or rowdy group of teenagers. Now’s probably the best chance to get that advice they’re paid to give out.

“Hey,” Callan addresses the employee with a nod, “Got any ideas for a 10th wriggling day gift? I need one for a guy who’s into like, cooking and shit. Practical, but fun, y’know?”

The brownblood silently casts their eyes over to the appliances, and settles on the most expensive item they can spot.

“Air fryer.”

Of course.

Once again, we’re back to square one. This is going to take more than an hour’s worth of thinking, which is well more than Callan has ever done in his life. But, that’s fine. He’s got time, and it’s for someone worth spending time on. And there’s still the entirety of the department store to meander about like what everyone else does at this time of night. Maybe he could look into finding some outfits so Gerrel can be at least half as stylish as him, maybe some instructional books on building projects that would normally bore Callan to death because they lack funny pictures, maybe some crafts to make something (he can paint a mean self-portrait, so a portrait of someone else wouldn’t be that much more difficult)...

Now, if only Gerrel didn’t steal his other non-kitchen appliance idea of putting together a photo book already, that could’ve been perfect. Who wouldn’t want their own collection of Official Callan selfies?

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

It took another couple hours and some trips to a few nearby shops, but finally the search for the perfect present was over. Callan stood at the kitchen table, putting together the finishing touches on the now-wrapped gift’s presentation. The homewares idea was thrown out the window in favour of something just as practical, but in a way that feels more personal. A blazer sits folded on the table (Callan made sure to not unfold it after the cashier slipped it into the shopping bag, there’s no way he’d ever be able to get it right), in a similar style to the one usually worn by Gerrel albeit with gold buttons and a green trim on the collar and cuffs. A voucher to get his symbol printed on the jacket has also been slipped into the breast pocket. It felt right to give something with his hue, it’s a common sign of friendship between a higherblood and a lowblood. He may not have a particularly intimidating shade of blue or purple, but it’s still an indication of protecting a friend. And, it’s something picked out by Callan himself so clearly it’s peak fashion.

There was an attempt at tying up the gift in a bow - one of the spare green neckties identical to the one he wore, to be precise - but there was certainly little effort into making it look perfect. The bow was uneven and sat nowhere close to the centre, and Callan couldn’t figure out how to do that fancy criss-cross tie most presents are wrapped in. Not that the presentation mattered to him, and he’s sure that’s the level of effort Gerrel would expect from him. He probably doesn’t expect much from the greenblood, honestly, so perhaps this modicum of effort will make this gift even more special. 

[psychemeanscure]

PART 21

Everything happened so fast. It was just Jang Taeyoung being wasted with the amount of alcohol he can be after a wrecking voice message he received from her to later getting delirious of her own image he always adored for. The next thing his assistant could only remember, was that they already backing up their boss of knocking out each man of the Alcaziar’s son, Zilo.

Yes, they’re currently in a chase to get the two-faced young dimwit indeed. Going ever possible place it could gone. And they did. Its warehouse of drugs. Jang Taeyoung holding a steel bar in its right hand, the other’s in pocket then he’s good to go with another battle. Walking boringly to the next pack, he spoke.

“Were you the last batch?”        

Lee tried to stop his boss for a reason, just to be interjected by Jae. “Don’t dare.”

“What?! He’s not thinking straight, Jae. We need to stop him before it gets worse!?”

Truly. They might just be ordinary subordinate who only follow the orders been ask to them, yet they were still human after all. Over the years of working with the great troubleshooter, they knew they also learn to care for him. So for Lee to witness the extent of his boss’ moves until today is too much not to pry.

Or better well said, being acquainted with a woman named Sung Eunyoung is dangerous more than what he expected it to be. He’s aware. Rather they all aware of its affection to her, but how can’t he worry when high officials were already involved. Given that his boss was in the bridge of being observed due to being investigated she caused even. They shouldn’t risk his safety!

“Jae!”

Another call he needed to his co-subordinate. “We can’t.”

Only to get debated once again. “The f*ck?”

His complain, but a recall for Jae. Remembering every bit, a Jang Taeyoung perceived when he himself tried to stop him as well. In its penthouse, in front of its own portrait. He knew, his boss is ready to risk everything.

The way Jang Taeyoung pushes the invisible button of his portrait revealing his secret revolver, a still wrapped blue gum, and cd tapes he left hidden over the years. A remembrance of his failed past. The SIESTA project which was once his writer self’s work to greed.

Tucking the gun on his holster while handing the gum and tapes to his assistant. He commanded. “Send this to Manager.”

By the mere mention of it, Jae instantly got alerted. He doesn’t even need to ask further for he already understand what that was. The Manager. Its former Russian boss who has a knack of not giving up pursuing his boss’ blue gum experiment that even after its exit with the gang, its interest didn’t end. Yet, Jang Taeyoung never gives in to that. Despite the continuous offer his former boss bestow for him, none until today.

He never been for he knew it was unsuccessful itself. He cannot manage of showing it again. Not even his Sung Eunyoung who almost knew about it. The reason why it’s been covered with satin cloth all the while as his hasty flexes halts her the moment she was about to touch his portrait. But if it’s his failure the only choice to keep her safe, so be it.

“Boss, isn’t it better if we should see things first before doing---“

“There ain’t something to see already, Jae.”

“But boss, you know the consequences---“

“Can’t you see this isn’t about me anymore?!”

He finally erupted. Sighing to calm himself, he faced his assistant once again. “He’s the only one who can help us. So just do what I told you to do so. You know what I meant about it, aren’t you?”

Hearing his last sentence somehow relieve his assistant as a proposal begins to form from its mouth. “If that’s the case, then we should ask for extra troop for you, bo--“

“I don’t need one. She’s much important.”

Responding a groan, Jae disagreed. “Boss, we can’t get you in dang---“  

“Another word Jae, and I might just kill you as well.”

And just like that, he surrendered and comprehend his boss’ request instead. And just as today they had no choice but to watch him fighting without braking.

Tapping Lee’s shoulder, he reminded. “We can no longer stop him, Bud. He’s already unstoppable. Accomplish or not, we’re only left with one choice and that is to protect who’s important to him at all cost. That’s all he wants.”  

Huffing with heavy breath with one-man punch to enemy’s underling, “F*ck this.” He follows. As in just a snap, they became their boss’ support system.

~

“Boss, saw the Alcaziar!”

A shout from one of his men, Jang firmly retorted. “Where?”

Pointing out the area, his men answered. “Along the hallway, upper right.”

That with one swift move, he tags along sprinting to the opposite side contradicting its path until he did. He reached him as he pointed his already loaded revolver at the back of its head. No doubt, the young Alcaziar is finally captured.

Welcomed by its mocking smiling face as it turns to face him, hands in the air. “Bang, little brother.” His reciprocated mockery even. As the act-like embarrassed Alcaziar answers. “Eish… Fine. I’m busted.”

For it was also too fast for Jang to drag him in a scattered gambling room, being beaten in some of his trivial parts. “Now, dimwit. It’s either you tell me where your delusional father is, or be dead instead. Your choice.”  

Wiping out some dust from his black suit, he threatened. Just to receive the snickering laugh of the young Spaniard, looking up to him, drained. “As if I had a choice either.” Its own hopeless answer as Jang Taeyoung starts to click his heels to sit by a near table with checker chips on it. Unmoved from the pity situation of the other. Picking one piece of chip as he pictures it like chess pieces before opening a theoretical talk.

“You play chess, Zilo?”

“I am. Why?”

As delighted Jang smirk. “So will you believe if I say why queen and knights are best partners in chess then?”

Confused Zilo questioned. “Shouldn’t it be the king and queen on a throne, though?”

Rubbing the texture of the checker chip, he retorted. “That’s the luxury of monarch, dimwit. Unfortunately, we’re talking boards where all I can see is a king who only proves himself useless in it. Hiding between his towers and pawn fences while lazily waiting for its queen’s pride and brave knight’s outcome. You got the sense, Zilo?”

Narrowing eyes starts to retract. “A give and take blabber getting the privilege which should have been given to queen and knights, you saying? Pathetic.” 

“Exactly. Makes sense, right.”

“Right. So what do they call each other? Comrades ready to reach supremacy? Great.”

As the amused chuckle came after Jang, “That’s how they’re made to be a perfect team! And you know what’s more fascinating?”

“What?”

Walking over to the young Alcaziar again, he bent. “It was when a queen’s in danger, the knight cannot be much angrier than slaughter and unforgiving.” Face leveled, as he begins to tap his revolver to its cheek itching to pull its trigger.

“So spill now young Alcaziar before this knight in front you become a stallion you can’t hardly imagine.”

His knowing verdict, only yet to be responded by a beaming smirk, urging its next word. “Too bad, brother. That’s just also the irony of chess you’re perceiving of.” Pausing to surround its eyes around the room, security agents flock to corner Jang and his men with guns. “You forgot the prankster bishop who hides in surprise behind the pawns.”  

“What will you do now, knight? The fences are already after you.”

Recognizing they are owned by filthy back up officials they have, he can only awe in sarcasm. Manically laughing like they were just joking around, gaping orbs following the surprise sight, mannish arms resting from his crouched knees. Cold Jang Taeyoung finally advents.

“Know what, dimwit?”

“What?”

“That for some time I actually thought of you as one. A younger brother I never had.”

Zilo was lying if it didn’t warm him for it obviously did as his once smirking face easily vanish just like that. Looking up to already standing older brother he never had as well. It’s too late.

Gazing to multiple guns pointing at him, he complains. “Eish… F*cking law makers.” Before he went back to look down Zilo. “I guess I misjudge you then.” Pulling out his revolver once again, he left one last word.

“Let’s play the game if given the chance, yeah? Who knows.”

And with a starting blow from the enemy’s agents, the imprudent chaos has begun. Together with his men, Jang knocks every underling that goes on his way. Series of bullets heard and wasted, lifeless bodies lying on the grime of floors, stinks of blood spread on endlessly from the dirty four walls. As all he could think of, is to chase the straightway escape of the young Alcaziar who has been escorted from the start.

But he was too late. They were already far for his reach. The youngster’s car freely drives from the buzzing path of sinners for cursing is the only thing that can pass his anger.

Before another gunshot was heard. For it was his stooping body covered with blood he saw. “We got him!” as a voice unfamiliar to him speaks out. The pain is bearable though like they intentionally miss to shot the most vital part of him as it didn’t take him long to know the reason why as another flocks of underling came rushing after, ready to take him down. He fights back. Even if his body isn’t cooperating this time.

How a simple stretch of his legs he flawlessly does, is lost. How hasty blocks became his wrecking bricks. And how his keen reflexes of dodges demote to novice. He hates it! He’s not usually a person who easily get strained with a mere shot. F*ck, he got the worst even!  

It seems like they implanted something from the bullet fired to him which lead him to be weak. Whatever it is, he’s f*cking screwed up! “Tss. These f*cking cowards.” His hell of grumbles the moment they were ask to stop their countless attacks. With his once perfect face busted and once well-built figure turns into qualmish leaf. They successfully take advantage of his current wimps indeed.  

Surely as he was fighting them alone, actually. How can he get help even when his men have their own fight meters afar from his? A much more number than he partakes.    

Pressing his gushing stomach while holding any possible thing that can give him strength which turns out to be edges of wooden recycling bins. He looks up to the scumbag that caused him then. Veeros Alcaziar, bending to face the aggrieved him. “Hey, young lad.” Its unabashed greeting. “How was the show, eh?” its next word as he can only grunt trying to grab its collar by the hand that was once holding the edge of the bins. Only for him to end up gripped lousily instead.

“W-where. Where did you bring Sung Eunyoung!”

Regaining a remaining strength, he has. He enraged. And the latter just confidently tapping his downgrade shoulder. “Don’t worry, young man. You’ll meet each other soon.” Its lunatic response as he begins to get drowsy. Medicine perhaps takes its effect.                                

“You know what you missed about the king, Lad?”

‘So he’s there all along.’ He thought.

Leaning its head towards his ear, the geezer whispered.

“It’s his manipulative intelligence.”

Then a Jang Taeyoung, finally passed out.

~

“Wake up. Jang Taeyoung, wake up!”

For there it is. The voice he had searched like years. Heard by his own lobes.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP Meme Lines from "AHS: Coven" Episode 12: "Go To Hell"

Your highest honor comes at the greatest price.

Death is not uncommon. And danger inescapable.

I don't even need to read your mind to know what you're doing.

Poor, sweet, dumb, paranoid girl.

The awful truth is I am tired.

I want to know what happened.

She's probably off in some unholy nether realm.

He's a deity. Show some respect.

Respect is something that is definitely lacking around here.

You will show me respect!

You look like shit.

I can't believe you did that to yourself.

Whoa! That was cool!

I did transmutation.

I didn't even have to think about it. It just happened.

Our powers always spike in times of crisis. This is one of those times.

You into girls now?

What are you afraid I might see?

Nothing stays a secret for very long in this house

It will come to light whether you want it to or not.

I don't have any secrets.

I'm the queen-- I will rise again!

My people gonna come for you. Rip you apart.

Give me the box of chicken. Today, please.

I'm going on break, okay?

This was the worst time of your life. Waiting on people who treated you like the piece of trash you thought you were. No power. No respect. And no future that you could see.

Your hell's on Earth.

Don't make me put you in the fryer.

Everybody got to pay in the end.

Wait! I'm not done with you!

Unless you want to stay here forever, you better hurry and get back.

Time moves differently in here.

I'm talking to you, bitch!

You made it back. I'm impressed.

Now that I've proven my power, you're gonna give me some answers.

You remember how you told me you were gonna cut me up in little pieces and plant me all over the place? I thought that was a honey of an idea.

There's got to be a way to kill her.

More marshmallows.

Well, she's not gonna be doing anything while she's chopped into 50 pieces and those pieces are scattered all over the city.

You are one crafty witch.

When do we get to see the attic torture chamber?

These wild tales of barbarity you've heard are nothing more than lies invented by her many enemies.

What a total rip-off.

How did you find me?

A dog returns to its vomit.

I see you finally got that makeover.

I'm here to set the record straight.

She even looks like a monster.

Many times while there were extravagant parties going on just below, the sounds of music and revelry drowning out the cries of torment.

You don't believe it?

It beggars all belief.

The information you've been feeding these people? It's inaccurate.

I want my money back.

Do not touch the display items!

You will never be able to pay for your crimes.

It's your only chance for redemption.

Agree to be publicly humiliated-- all is forgiven.

All anybody has to do nowadays is shed some tears, say some words

It's called repentance.

Oh, repentance my ass.

You think a man jack among them was well and truly sorry? Not a one. Sorry they got caught is all.

Y'all nothing but a pack of sniveling hypocrites, as far as I can see.

I won't profess to be sorry, 'cause I'm not.

I was getting to you before. I know it.

You made me weep.

I wept for the state of this world.

A world of lies. A world that makes promise it cannot keep.

I don't want to die.

I want my portrait hung just there.

What are you doing back there?

Do you need a break?

I probably have two weeks left on Earth.

Maybe we could be kind to one another for a change, huh?

Did you really think self-mutilation would restore your power?

You cannot lose your power. You never will. It's inside of you.

As much as I'd like to, I cannot take credit for that. It's all you.

You're saying good-bye?

A man shouldn't be disturbed when he's playing with his instrument.

You don't have your mother's features.

Oh, you know who I am?

We spent quite an evening together.

She can't love anyone but herself.

I saw everything. Everything.

Unzip me.

Whatever fantasy you have about who she is and what you are to her, it's all bullshit.

She used you. All she does is use people.

I don't suspect you have a passport ready.

You feel that? That empty heartbroken feeling?

When the rest of the world sees a wall, we see a window.

Is she alive?

She's not breathing.

That's deadly nightshade you're about to ingest through your nostrils. I wouldn't sniff around unless you're looking for a bout of delirium.

Where is everybody?

Who would have been cruel enough to commit such an atrocity?

I heard people die after three days without water.

Please tell me this is a hallucination driven by my bouquet of Atropa belladonna.

You were supposed to spend your days in romantic splendor with your true love.

You're just like Halston when he sold his brand to J.C. Penney. You've forsaken your destiny.

You bit it off.

Hey, you're in my spot!

I want to sleep!

We're leaving.

You, don't talk to me!

Is that why you came back, because you can't handle him?

You bitch.

You thought I was some dumb swamp rat you could leave behind to die?

Stop these vulgar fisticuffs at once.

It's beneath us.

I don't want to waste my magic on you.

You hit like a girl!

This is awesome!

You! You must pay for what you've done!

Wow, did you walk into the wrong house.

Who the hell is this guy?

I thought you banished his soul to the appropriate nether realms?

I'll kill all of you!

Is that blood?

How could you do this to me?

I don't remember the last time I was here when there wasn't music playing.

You pack your wader boots?

I don't like catfish. I loathe all bottom-feeders.

She's pretty, but she doesn't have your cheekbones.

I imagine she wanted me to do her dirty work for her.

We had a deal. It wasn't on paper, it wasn't stamped by a notary, but we had a deal!

You have been the most delightful distraction. A life preserver. But I'm gonna be on dry land soon.

Can't you at least pretend? Just, just humor me for a while?

I guess I loved you.

Although I really don't know anything about love, if I'm gonna be honest. But you were the sweetest of lovers. The best I've ever had. And I'll miss that.

Let go of me!

I know you love me!

Christ, I was sick!

I just needed to feel something.

I made you die those little deaths for the first time in your sorry life. I made you sing when you had no tunes left in you.

What you're doing is a crime against humanity.

Well, I've never been one for love, true or otherwise.

Does anyone feel any different?

Where's the body?

Somebody's got to kill this creep.

Is that really necessary?

I'll kill him.

We really don't need a man to protect us.

I know I mistreated you in the past but there's no greater pain than being this close and not, not being able to reach you. And to comfort you.

Oh, I'm consumed with regret.

Why are they doing this to us?

Please, I'm so thirsty.

Please have mercy.

Are you hungry, too?

I'll slice off one of your mama's fingers and feed it to you!

Yes, I have sinned.

I gave no quarter.

Have mercy on my soul!

I don't want to do this!

You will do as you are tasked.

Who is this man?

What is this place?

You have been granted your sweet release from the world of the mortal.

Welcome to hell.

I can't die!

We have a contract!

No one gets away with sin.

Everybody suffers.

[cosmiclatte28]

Power (Kai x you)

Power (Kai x you)

One shot / imagine / scenarios

AU where Kai and Reader both have special powers.

One cliche hallway bump and the two of you discover each other's secret

Enjoy!!

“Don't touch her!” A man yelled in urgency when the new kid almost kneeled down to help the student he just bumped.

“Huh?” the boy with bronze skin and a hot purple shade of hair shot a questioning look to the small man beside him.

“What? I bumped her Taemin, of course I need to help her.” Kai shot his new friend a questioning look and a “what the heck?” Look before kneeling down and asking the girl if she's okay.

“Sorry, I didn't see you… I’m a new student and I’m just getting used to the new environment." Kai explained his pardon while helping her reach for her scattered drawing papers.

She did not bat an eye on Kai nor even cursed him for toppling over her.

“Hey you okay?” Kai reached out his hand to touch her shoulder but before he could reach her, he felt his body dragged forcedly upward and he saw her moving away too.

You are that girl, you scurried away when you saw the purple haired man dragged away by his two friends. You knew the two other man as Taemin and Baekhyun.

You rushed your way from the big hall, every single pair of eyes threw their stare away from you as soon as you passed by. If you were a character cartoon in a film, you'll have black clouds tailing you.

You hid your face from the other students, clutching unto your books, you made it into your first class of the day. Literature.

You planted yourself over one chair on the corner of the room, sitting by yourself since you knew no one would dare to sit next to you. That has been the case since the first day you were born.

You smiled a little bit when you remember the accident 5 minutes ago, who was that purple haired man? He looked new and he was the first man to caught your attention (in a good way)

You didn't get his name at all and didn't see his name tag. You decided to push the bothering mind aside.

With one pencil in your hand and a blank page of paper in front of you, you busied yourself into drawing a portrait. The smooth friction of graphite and the drawing paper distracted you from the sudden chaos the class had. You’re drowned in your own world until someone tapped the table beside yours.

You froze on the spot like a deer caught in a headlight. Quickly you bring your arms to cover the drawing as you gasped in surprise to see the man you drew was standing there looking as surprised as you did.

“Wow that’s a very nice portrait of me.” Kai bashfully smiled.

“What are you doing here?” you blurted out and internally cursed yourself for saying that out loud. Great now you sounded so rude and he will hate you like the others.

“Well as I told you earlier, I am a new student and I happened to be taking this class too.” He explained calmly

You scrutinized him from top to toe, trying to discover whose descendants did he belong to.

“And??” you wanted him to continue

Kai darted his eyes through out the room, “the only chair left is the one beside yours.”

You quickly scanned the room and yes there was no more empty space left.

“Uhm- here take the chair and table… i'll -"

“hey we can share. I don't use up the whole space.” He carefully placed his bag down.

Your breathing shortens and you're having a light panic attack. No one has shared tables with you ever since you discovered your curse.

“Look I'll be on the very end if you're not comfortable.” Kai pulled his chair to the end of the table and carefully prepared his things for today’s class.

The whole attention from the class was enough to make your day worse.

Kai did not know what he did on you, but he will … soon.

--

You shared literature class with him for the rest of the semester and every time he always shared the last table with you. You never talked to him at all and whenever he tried, you always replied in short answers. Man gave up finally or at least toned down his conversations. You always make sure none of your body touched his, or life would be hell.

Kai kept his questions to himself, he did not dare ask anyone what’s the matter with (y/n) and no one volunteered to tell him what's actually wrong.

Every day Kai found himself intrigued and attracted to you. It was not a simple feeling, it was love. It's the most dangerous feeling someone could possess.

Kai saw your sketches the day he first met you, he saw your drawings on the hallway and of course his portrait on the first day. He was mesmerized by the fact that it only cost you one look and you had that person's face intact. You could even make a portrait with hand directly.

“(y/n)… would you like to accompany me to the book store today? I'm sorry to bother you but I have no one else and you know i'm still new here.” He bravely talked to you when lecture ended.

You cocked your head to the side, surprised by his brave move. You looked around and nodded

“Just remember… don't touch me.” You whispered and in a blink of an eye, you're blended into the crowd already.

That afternoon Kai met you on the one and only bookstore by the alley. He was dressed in a simple denim jacket and you're wrapped in a cropped sweater and a low cut jeans.

You did not dress up to impress him, that happened to be the remaining clothes on your drawer.

His eyes looked up and down, judging your attire and his face was pure surprise.

“Sorry they were the only clean laundries I have.. I forgot to drop my laundries… anyways what book are you looking for?” you for once threw him a sweet smile.

You never offer a sweet smile to anyone in the school. It was always a small smile or a poker face. But something in the air and something about his purple hair and glossy tanned skin made your stomach tingled and smile muscle worked involuntarily.

“Ah it's a trilogy and we should probably start looking.” Kai reached out to grab your hand, but you're faster. You quickly hug yourself and in a cheerful voice hurried him to follow your steps into the book store.

His hand hung mid air, he quirked his brow but followed you afterwards.

The two of you exchanged small talk and conversation while looking for a book you've never heard at all.

Kai insisted that the book was old but he was sure this is the only book store that sell them.

By two hours, you've walked through all of the aisle and kai had not for once told you to stop or showed signals of him finding the book.

“Wait we're on the last rack already.. and you’re sure your books are here?” you suddenly felt something wrong.

He glanced around and when he saw no one, he took steps forward causing you to back down.

“Kai?”

“Shh" his finger ghost over your lips and your eyes widen…

He looked at you with an indescribable emotion and as if hypnotized you can't take off your eyes from him. You follow his gaze and knew he was looking at your glistening lips well you love lipglosses and you cannot leave the room without wearing one!

You found your tongue tied and body freezing. You're glued to the grounds and the man towering over you leaned in to kiss you.

“Don't" you squeaked.

“I'm dangerous. I could freeze you.. literally..let me explain..” you hold your hands out but Kai was not paying attention to you at all. His body leaned closer and closer while his fingers bravely intertwined yours. You shut your eyes, a tear escaped from your eyes as you felt your body trembling with fear.

You remember the last time a boy tried to kiss you, his body froze to eternal death and you.. you were the reason. That was why you never came in contact with anyone else just a tip of your finger might gave them a burning sensation from the cold.

You felt his lips pressed into yours, gently molding into it, when you felt a light press on your hands you shot your eyes open just to cry more as you see someone kissing you without turning blue for the first time.

You closed your eyes back, savoring the sweetest moment and the warmest feeling you've had in your entire life. Your body was flaming as if you're melted into his touch, slowly Kai snaked his hands to your bare skin and he gripped over your hips.

You gasped and he took the chance to slid his tongue inside your cave, exploring the new humidity, and one of his hand was professionally holding your neck close.

You did not know how he could handle your power that much and that long. After what you could say a good kiss, he pulled back.

Both of your chest were beating fast and he broke the thin strain between your lips. You could see his lips glistening and he licked it slightly. Looking hot as ever.

“I was curious of your lip-gloss ever since day one” he rubbed his neck shyly. Suddenly he returned to his innocent school looking self.

“How?!” that was the only question you blurted

Your eyes were wet and Kai brought you into his embrace.

“I discovered people were backing away from you because you have the ability to freeze someone… you'd be surprised if I tell you people in my last school feared me since I could burn the whole school down with one hand.” He pulled of a smug grin and pressed a short kiss once again on your lips.

Your tears streamed down faster as you tried to believe you've finally met someone with the same burden… and the two of you could counteract each other's power.

“So… you don't have to sit on the very edge anymore… you won’t hurt me and I won't hurt you.” Kai pressed a chaste kiss on your pink lips.

Your brain was still processing things and you’re only able to smile like an idiot.

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and ushered you to leave the store. He never intended to look for a book . The book was imaginary and he just wanted to take you out. That was why he did not use the computer searching program nor the help of the clerk.

You laughed when you realized he was trying to bring you to a date without you realizing it at all.

“How does taemin and baekhyun touched you without getting burnt?” you glanced to the taller man holding your hands.

Kai smirked, “That darling is what i'll teach you next. How to control your power.”

The end 💖

[booknerdproblems]

Immortals Chapter 11

Hello lovely people! Welcome to the next chapter of Immortals! Okay so, I love this chapter. Mainly because it’s just a whole bunch of Rowaelin trash.

Also: to tagged people- I don’t think the tags on the last chapter were 100% effective, so you may just want to check that you’ve seen the previous chapter before reading this one.

TW: None

Here is the link to my main masterlist, where you can find the the links to all chapters.

“I can survive well enough on my own, if given proper reading material.”

-Celaena Sardothien, Throne of Glass

Aelin and Rowan had to leave Mistward in four days. In two days, it was Beltane. Rowan usually just drunk an abnormal amount of wine and rooted out pickpockets on the revelling streets of Doranelle. At Mistward, he was to join the celebrations. Fae and part Fae alike came from far and wide to Mistward to celebrate. 

He could tell Aelin was looking forward to it, it was Fire Night after all. After their talk the other night, they’d been sparring and training every afternoon, and Rowan had learnt to enjoy Aelin’s sharp wit and snarky comments. He would even say they could almost be… friends. 

They were currently both standing in the kitchens in front of a very nervous looking Emrys and Malakai, slightly on edge.

Emrys was wringing his hands, and Malakai looked slightly awkward taking in the two of them. 

Aelin was giving him sidelong glances, as if trying to gauge if he knew what this was about. He gave her a slight shake of his head in answer. 

After a moment of more pacing, Emrys spoke.

“Prince, Aelin. It’s Beltane in two days, as you know, and Mistward hosts festivities for all those who want to attend.”

Aelin nodded, but Rowan just waited for the blow to fall.

“Thing is, uh. Malakai?”

Malakai glared at his mate, and they seemed to have a stare off before Emrys sighed and continued,

“At Mistward, all the rooms are usually doubled up to accommodate the amount of people travelling here. But uh-“

Aelin cut in, “just say it.”

“With you two taking up our biggest rooms, we cannot fit everyone in the rooms. So. Uh. I know it’s against all protocol, and normal procedure, especially considering both of your ranks, but it would be- helpful, to say the least, if you two could, possibly, share one room?”

Aelin and Rowan just stood there in silence for a heartbeat.

“Of course, we can provide a separate bedroll for one of you, but unfortunately there are no spare cots.”

There was a moment of dead silence, then Aelin burst into laughter.

-x-

Emrys and Malakai were smiling nervously at Aelin as she doubled over laughing. Rowan closed his eyes for a heartbeat, took a breath, then opened them. He shot Aelin a disapproving look, but couldn’t help it as his lips twitched upward slightly. 

“I thought someone had died! Gods I thought it was bad. Oh gods.” Aelin still couldn’t stop and Rowan rolled his eyes.

Looking back at Emrys and Malakai, he said in his best reassuring voice, “of course it’s fine, don’t worry about it. This one,” he nodded at Aelin, still giggling uncontrollably, “has no sense of decorum or protocol anyway.”

Emrys smiled sheepishly at his poor attempt at humour. Aelin, however, whacked him on the arm and frowned, finally halting her laughter.

“I’ll have you know, I’m the consummate portrait of royal grace.”

“Oh absolutely. My sincere apologies to Your Most Graceful Majesty, if I have offended your delicate sensibilities.”

“Asshole,” Aelin muttered, rolling her eyes, but threw him a grin.

-x-

That evening, Rowan had moved all his clothes and weapons into Aelin’s room, and frowned at the bed. It wasn’t tiny, but it wasn’t huge. He sighed, knowing the proper thing to do was sleep on the bedroll. Still, he wasn’t keen on sleeping on the floor every night. Walking into the adjacent bathroom, he headed to the sink and splashed some water on his face and neck.

“You know, if you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask.”

Rowan jumped, whirling around. He’d been so absorbed in his thoughts he’d failed to notice Aelin in the large tub on the other side of the room, soaking in the frothy water. Her hair was soaked, turning it a darker shade, and her long legs were propped up on the opposite side, exposing miles of tanned skin. He tried- tried, wyrd damn him, not to look, and failed miserably. Her sun-kissed skin was slick and shining with water, glistening in the candlelight. She had a small smile on her face, looking perfectly relaxed as she closed her eyes.

“See something you like, buzzard?” He still hadn’t spoken.

Their first night sharing quarters, and he’d already managed to walk in on the Queen ofTerrasen in the bathtub. He stared at her, frozen, before walking over to the tub. 

She wanted to play, he’d play.

He sat on the edge of the bath, bracing a hand on the other side so his torso was suspended above the water. Aelin opened her eyes. Rowan relished the hitch in her breath as he leaned in close enough to share breath, studying her face. The water was frothy enough that he couldn’t see anything indecent, and he met her eyes.

“What if I do? See something I like.”

Pink creeped up Aelin’s neck and cheeks, and he internally congratulated himself on getting her flustered for once. He could just imagine where that beautiful blush would spread if leaned in, or with her spread out beneath- Rowan stopped that thought before it could go any further.

When she didn’t reply, he chuckled softly, a lovers laugh, then withdrew, walking out of the bathroom, running a hand through his hair. 

He rolled out his bedroll, grabbing a couple of blankets and dropping them onto the thin mat. 

Rowan assumed Aelin would take the bed, she outranked him anyway. Gods, this was against all of his diplomatic training. Not that he cared much for protocol anyway. But, shit-

What had he just been thinking? Sure, it was good to turn the tables for once, but what he’d done was entirely inappropriate. 

Boundaries. 

Limits. 

Those were his new favourite words, he told himself. He had three hundred years worth of self-control, he told himself. He could keep his dick in his pants and mind out of the gutter for a couple more days. A couple more days, he told himself. 

Just as those thoughts were crossing his mind, Aelin walked out of the bathroom. He froze, eyes wide. She was clad in a dangerously short nightgown, the deep red silk clinging to her curves. The back dipped scandalously low, and was trimmed with black lace. She didn’t look at him, simply closing the window and turning to the bed. Rowan opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

“What are you wearing?”

“A nightgown.” Aelin slid under the covers, uncaring, but he just stood there. 

“And you don’t have anything else to wear?”

She arched a brow, “would you rather I sleep naked?”

Rowan almost choked, “No. No that’s fine. But uh- where’s the bottom part?”

Aelin looked endlessly amused, “there is no bottom part.”

“Oh.” He sat on his bedroll. So much for not getting flustered. 

“What are you doing?” Aelin’s voice cut through the silence that had enveloped them.

“What?”

“Why the hell are you down there?”

“And where would you have me be?”

“Well, not on the damn floor for starters.”

“Do you see another bed?”

“Why do you need another bed?”

Rowan sat up, looking toward Aelin, raising his eyebrows. She just smirked back at him. Rolling his eyes, he settled down on his roll. 

She was ridiculous. Her whole being seemed to go against all normality. Nonsense. Utterly and completely ridiculous. 

“Seriously Rowan, I’m not gonna bite, just sleep in the damn bed.”

He remained stubbornly on the bedroll. 

Aelin sighed, “suit yourself.” The room went black as she snuffed out all the candles using that remarkable control of hers.

He remained staring at the ceiling, ignoring the desire that was roaring through his blood, steadily shredding through his self-control. Gods he hoped she was in her human form, so she couldn’t scent anything out of the ordinary.

Teeth gritted, he spoke into the blackness, 

“I’ve never seen- clothing like that.”

A rustle of bedsheets, “you mean to tell me the females in Doranelle don’t own scandalous nightwear? Or anywhere else in the world?”

“My encounters with females don’t usually involve parading around in nightclothes. Is-is all your clothing like that?”

A snort, then, “why are you so curious about my negligees anyway, Prince? Me in a nightgown can’t be the raciest thing you’ve ever seen.”

He remained silent, why was he continuing this conversation? He was an immortal warrior, for Mala’s sake. He’d waged war and ended it more times than he cared to remember.

“Is there a specific colour you’d like me to wear? If I’m going to scandalise you, I should at least do it in something you like.”

He didn’t answer, and after a moment, Aelin seemed to settle into bed more fully. Then,

“Gold. Not yellow. Metallic gold.”

“You're out of luck, I would never own anything so ostentatious.”

He grinned into the dark, before rolling over and pulling up the blankets.

-x-

Two hours later, Rowan woke, shaking. Gods, it was freezing in the mountains. The sparse blankets he’d taken for himself held barely any warmth, and he was cold to his very bones. He rolled onto his back and sighed heavily. 

Looking over at the bed, he could see a small figure curled up under thick, heavy blankets, breathing deeply and evenly. Rowan could practically feel the warmth taunting him from across the room. 

He let out a quiet groan, running a hand through his hair. He clenched his jaw, attempting to restrain himself one last time before sighing again and standing upright. He gathered his pillow and blankets, shuffling over to the bed. 

Looking down, he groaned for about the tenth time that night. Aelin had made the most of the space available, and was curled on her side, one arm stretched across the bed, her hair splayed out similarly. Rowan wondered if she’d wake up if he gingerly lifted her arm over there and-

She sighed, rolling over and moving her arm, but remaining dead asleep, and Rowan sent a silent prayer to the gods for that small mercy. 

He flipped back the sheets, sliding under the warm blankets, suppressing a shiver and closing his eyes. 

After a moment, a voice spoke into the darkness,

“I knew you’d break.”

“Shut up.” He muttered quickly, eyes remaining resolutely closed. He should have known she’d wake up the instant he pulled back to the covers.

A soft, sleepy laugh that most definitely did not make his stomach flutter, then,

“G’night, buzzard.”

He paused,

“Night, Aelin.”

Tags: @bookworm232020​ @sanakapoor​ @faerie-queen-fireheart​ @alyx801​ @kendallambrosio​ @brandyovereager​ 

Let me know if you’d like to be added/removed from the tag list!

[vgckwb]

P5R: Rebel Girl (A FeMC Story/P5R Rework) Chapter 42: A Woman, A Child, A Sinner, A Monster

The day after the park clean up, the thieves met up at Madarame’s exhibit after school to look out on the effects of the calling card they sent the previous evening. Madarame had shown up, but a guard was always with him. When he had some free time, he pulled the guard aside and asked “OK. What’s this about?”

“I’m sorry sir” he said. “I was told I had to wait until Captain Ogawa got here.”

“WHAT?!” Madarame screamed.

At that moment, Kosuke walked in and walked up to Madarame and the guard. “What’s going on?” he asked.

The guard was somewhat hesitant. “Well, uh, early this morning, we found these scattered throughout the exhibit.” He took out a copy of the calling card. “We think whoever did this might make a move against Madarame.”

“WHAT?!” Madarame said.

“Did you see who placed them?” Kosuke questioned.

“All the security footage we looked through only showed a black cat” the guard responded

“I see. Do you know who sent it?” Kosuke asked, matter of factly.

“Well, it’s addressed from those Phantom Thieves we’ve been hearing about in the news recently” the guard answered.

“Phantom Thieves, pah” Madarame dismissed. “Why would they go after me?”

Kosuke seethed a little, not enough for it to be noticeable unless you were really paying attention. “Well if you’d like,” the guard spoke, “you could read what the card says.”

“Let me see,” Madarame said, ripping the card from the guard’s hand. He began reading. “‘Sir Ichiryusai Madarame, the egregious sinner of vanity. You pretend to be a noble and kind light in the world of art, when in reality we know you’re anything but. You take students under your wing and abuse them without mercy and steal their art to claim as your own. Then you leave them destitute once you believe they no longer serve a purpose. You also use your immense influence to prevent people from speaking out about it. We are not alone in noticing this. Someone wishes to purge you from your perch and watch as you fall face down into the roaring flames of Hell itself. We cannot allow that to happen, nor can we allow you to continue on your path of destroying people’s hopes and dreams. To prevent both, we will steal your desires and make you confess your sins. From, The Phantom Thieves of Heart.’”

Madarame ripped the card in two. “What rubbish! Slander is what that is!”

“Uh sir?” the guard said.

“What?” Madarame said forcefully.

“Um, it’s just, people around the museum are already talking about it” the guard informed him.

“Well, none of this is true, right?” Madarame insisted.

“Right, uh, sir” the guard said, panicking.

Madarame sighed. “Now I have to figure out THIS PR disaster,” Madarame said.

“But what about the Phantom Thieves?” the guard asked.

“What about them?” Madarame chded. “You don’t believe they exist, do you?”

“Well, uh…” the guard began answering.

“This is just a fairy tale meant to try and scare me and stir up trouble” Madarame said.”Well it won’t work!”

The world flashed, and we see Madarame’s shadow clearly frustrated. “Heh. Those thieves think they can steal my treasure? My security is state of the art. And when it comes to art, no one is better than me.”

It flashes back to reality. Madarame walks off in a huff, pondering over what to do next. Meanwhile, Kosuke had been essentially frozen this entire time. “Uh, Captain Ogawa?” the guard asked.

Kosuke smiled. “Don’t worry,” he said, placing his hands on the guard’s shoulders. “We're the best, right? I’m sure whatever threat these thieves may or may not pull, we can take care of it with ease.”

The guard nodded. “Thank you sir.” He rushed off to prepare for what might come next.

Meanwhile, it flashed back to the darkness with Kosuke’s shadow, visibly upset, but grinning. “You think you can destroy my masterpiece like this? All you’ve done is given me a happy little accident to work with.” It flashes back to reality, and Kosuke walks off.

The thieves conversed among themselves. “Well, it looks like the message got through to them both,” Yusuke noted.

Jose nodded. “Yup. Now all we have to do is follow through with our plan.”

“Is everybody ready?” Morgana asked. They all nodded. “Good. I don’t need to remind you that this is our only chance. I believe we can do this!”

Ren nodded. “Let’s go!” she called. The thieves left the exhibit and went to Madarame’s palace.

At the entrance, Ann lamented “We’re not going to have a short route like last time, are we?”

Ren shook her head.”However, we know the ins and outs of this place. We should avoid detection fairly easily.”

“She’s right,” Morgana said. “We should conserve our energy until we make our play. Now let’s move!” The thieves began sneaking through the palace to get to Madarame’s treasure room. Once there, they all got into position.

Outside the control room, Ryuji was psyching himself up. “OK. You can do this.” He banged on the door. “HEY! There’s an intruder here!” He then bolted.

“What?” said the shadow. They opened the door to try and track Ryuji.

Ann crept out of her hiding space. “You can do it Skull.” She snuck into the control room and went straight for the light panel.

In the treasure exhibit hall, Madarame was standing there with a plethora of guards patrolling. One of them was shot. “WHAT?!” Madarame called out.

He and all the remaining guards look up to see Jose holding his sniper rifle. “Hi,” he said. He fired another shot, taking out another shadow.

Most of the guards tried to confront Jose. However, one took Madarame aside and said “You’re not safe, we must go!” Madarame nodded, and the two walked off. Jose made a break for it, dodging all of the shadows.

Once Morgana was in place, Yusuke gave the signal. Ann shut the lights off while Ren lowered the crane. Sumire kept watch to make sure no one came in that wasn’t supposed to. As Morgana started to head up, Jose used his grappling hook to latch on to lose the guards chasing him and meet up with the rest of the group.

When the lights came back on, the guards were confused. They decided to investigate the control room. Fortunately, Ann had already left, and was making her way to the crane control room. Ryuji lured the guard chasing him away and took care of them discreetly. After he finished subduing the guard, he made his way over there as well.

“Alright! Success!” Morgana cheered.

“Way to go, Mona-senpai!” Sumire compliments.

“Now all that’s left is to sneak out,” Ryuji said enthusiastically.

“Where are they?!” they heard a guard shout.

“Easier said than done,” Yusuke said.

“We did cause a lot of commotion” Ann noted.

“Spread out!” they heard another guard say. “They couldn’t have gotten far!”

Ren smirked. “I know that look,” Morgana said. “You have a dangerous plan, don’t you?”

“I would have said ‘bold’, but yeah” Ren answered. “Follow me.” She headed up to the rafters, with her crew following her. Ren looked down. “I knew it.”

“Knew what?” Ryuji asked.

“The guards aren’t here because they’re looking for us elsewhere” Ren surmised.

“...Yeah?” Ryuji continued.

“So, we can just jump down and rush through” Ren finished.

“OK, OK” Ryuji said. “Wait, WHAT?! For REAL?! No way, look how high we are!”

“As ludicrous as this sounds, I think that’s our only option” Yusuke pointed out.

“Follow my lead,” Ren said. She jumped, and as she was falling, she tethered herself to one of the rafters to swing gracefully down. She let go when she was close enough to the floor, and then proceeded to hit the ground running. One by one, her fellow thieves did the same.

They continued through the museum, hiding from guards and taking whatever shortcuts they could. When they got to the extremely damaged room just passed the broken Madarame statue Morgana tripped. “Woah!” The treasure slipped out of its covering, only to reveal a crude self portrait of Madarame. The thieves stopped.

Ren picked it up. “What the?”

“Hm” they heard Madarame grunt. “So you figured out my trick.” The thieves all looked at him. He was being escorted by two guards. “No matter. I’ll just eliminate you here!”

“You switched the paintings?!” Morgana yelped.

“I wasn’t going to let you steal my treasure so easily” Madarame chided. “If you had left with that I would have let you live. But now, you must perish!” The thieves began drawing their weapons. “But before that, I suppose you deserve a glimpse of the treasure you so foolishly tried to steal.” He takes out a canvas. “Behold, the REAL ‘Sayuri’!”

The thieves were stunned. The white cloud was no longer there. Instead, there was a portrait of a small child. “That…” Yusuke said. “That’s me…” The other thieves looked at him.

Madarame nodded. “Your mother was the true author of the ‘Sayuri’. It was a portrait of her with her child. Unfortunately, she died before she could make it public.”

The thieves were appalled. “You stole his mom’s art?!” Ryuji yelled.

“And I let her die too!” Madarame said. “She was so weak and sickly, no one would have given a second thought to her perishing. So I intentionally took my time calling the ambulance.”

“Why are you telling us this?” Sumire said.

“Because you’re going to die,” Madarame said. “There’s no point in lying to the dead.”

All the other thieves were furious. Yusuke smiled. “Heh” he chuckled. “I see now. You said that Madarame the artist was a facade. Yet I can see now that Madarame the human being is also nothing more than a facade to you.”

“Well put Yusuke,” Kosuke’s voice rang out. The thieves looked around. Kosuke jumped down to get behind Madarame. One his way down he splashed the two guards with ink. After he landed, he created two knives from his ink and threw them at the guards, destroying them.

Kosuke walked over to Madarame. “I used to think that my opinion of you couldn’t GET any lower. But you’ve proven me wrong, yet again. Taking your student’s artwork and claiming it as your own is despicable. But EDITING it? Taking out the most IMPORTANT PART? That’s just downright disgusting.” Madarame was sweating bullets. In a panic, he dropped his treasure. Kosuke cracked his neck. “And now, it’s time for you to DIE!”

Kosuke raised his fist, ready to take out Madarame. However Yusuke jumped in between and stopped him. “I WILL NOT LET YOU KILL HIM!”

Kosuke backed up. Morgana went in and grabbed the treasure, while Ryuji took the fake treasure, slammed it over Madarame, and proceeded to drag him away as well. Kosuke called out. “You've seen his treasure now! You know what he’s capable of! You know he’s beyond redemption! Why do you insist that he live after everything he’s done?!”

Yusuke smirked. “While it’s true Madarame may be irredeemable, that doesn’t mean I have to be. There’s no shame in doing the right thing. Madarame is truly the worst of humanity, and I aim to be the best. If that means not letting the very worst happen to him, then so be it.”

“Grrrrrr” Kosuke hissed. “Very well. If you wanna play hardball, LET’S PLAY!”

The museum around them started to bleed ink heavier. “It looks like Kosuke’s starting to take over more,” Morgana pointed out.

“I guess we’re fighting this guy now,” Ryuji said.

Ren smirked. “Just so you know Kosuke, we play to win!”

They began battling each other. Kosuke was fairly aggressive, but the thieves were doing a good chunk of damage. After a few rounds, the ink distortion started growing stronger. “What’s this?” Yusuke shrieked.

“What’s going on?” Sumire asked.

“Don’t worry!” Ren said, trying to calm down her teammates. “This happened with Kamoshida too! So long as we keep Madarame alive, everything will be fine!”

“Sensei?” Kosuke’s voice rang out.

“What?” Yusuke said

“This happens too,” Morgana informed. “This a memory Kosuke has.”

“What is it?” Madarame asked.

“Why are there countless copies of the ‘Sayuri’ in the back?” Kosuke asked.

“What were you doing back there?” Madarame returned, anger in his voice.

“I was trying to figure out how to get my name back on the piece of art I made!” Kosuke retorted.

“Heh. Did you forget? I made that” Madarame said.

“Bullshit!” Kosuke said. “I made it! You just stole it from me!”

“I made you the artist you are now” Madarame chided. “So anything you make is mine!”

“WHAT?!” Kosuke yelled.

“As for the ‘Sayuri’, it’s also mine so I can do with it as I please’ Madarame continued. “I can forge it and sell it to suckers who think it went missing.”

“You WHAT?!” Kosuke screamed.

“Now, do go back there EVER again!” Madarame insisted. “Or else I’ll have you arrested!” Kosuke could be heard fuming, and stomped off.

“So this is when he figured it out” Yusuke reflected.

“Tell me you wouldn’t react similarly” the Kosuke in front of them demanded. “When the image of Madarame as he presents himself breaks, you’ll see nothing but a horrid creature, meant for the flames.”

Yusuke sighed. “While it is disappointing to see what Madarame is really like, I cannot condone your behavior here either.”

“Very well,” Kosuke said. “Shall we continue then?”

They went back to fighting for a bit longer before another memory started playing. “YOU STOLE THE ‘SAYURI’?!” past Kosuke yelled.

“What are you talking about?” Madarame threw back.

“The ‘Sayuri’!” Kosuke said, forcefully. “You didn’t make it! You stole it!”

“What do you mean?” Madarame obfuscated.

“I went back into that room and found the real ‘Sayuri’” Kosuke said, seething. “After looking it over, the style, the paint lines, and the subject itself, it hit me. The ‘Sayuri’ has Hoshiko written all over it!”

“Hoshiko?” Ann asked.

“My mother” Yusuke informed her.

A smack could be heard. “I told you never to go back there again!” Madarame shouted. “And as for your insinuation, I’ve told you before: ‘I made her, therefore anything that’s her is mine’! But apparently you don’t listen. You should appreciate me. I took you in when you had nowhere else to go!”

“Did you kill her as well?” Kosuke asked, definitely. “Just to take it?”

“IT’S MINE!” Madarame insisted. “You need to listen! Especially to these next words! Leave here, and never return! And if I see even a glimpse of you trying to make it as an artist, I will have you behind bars so fast, the ink will not even have dried on your first stroke.”

There was a bit of silence. “FINE!” Kosuke screamed. “But someday, this will all come crashing down!”

“I have the art world eating out of the palm of my hand” Madarame said, rubbing salt in the wound. “Just how do you think that will happen?” The voices stopped. However, there were some angry footsteps, followed by a slamming door. “Bah. He won’t bother me again.”

There was more silence on the part of the thieves. “I remember that day,” Yusuke said. “I had only heard bits and pieces, but the anger was clear. The door came off the frame after he slammed it. Despite everything, I felt powerless.”

“I felt powerless too,” Kosuke said. “He beat us, stole from us, and yet WE were the ones who would get in trouble if anyone outside of Madarame’s shack heard anything. For too long, Madarame has avoided any consequences. But not anymore! It’s time for him to pay!”

“I agree,” Yusuke said. “Although I’d rather him pay society than the piper.”

“Heh. So quick witted” Kosuke said. “Let’s see how much longer you can last.” They continued their battle for a bit. After the thieves got a few good hits in, Kosuke chuckled. “Heh heh. You guys are powerful. Lucky for me, I have an ace up my sleeve. RAH!” He slapped his hands to the ground. Ink left them, creating little pools. Out of the pools of ink, copies of Kosuke appeared.

“WHAT?!” Ann shouted.

“Heh” Kosuke laughed. “Let’s see how you can handle an army of me!”

“What do we do?” Sumire asked.

The thieves looked them over. “They seem to be color-coded,” Jose noted. “Maybe that has something to do with it.”

“Good eye, Sunshine” Ren complimented. “I think they correlate to the elemental attacks we can do.”

“So we attack the one that matches?” Ryuji asked. “Seems simple enough.”

“Right,” Ren said. “This match is just about over!”

The bout continued for a little while longer. With some expert coordination, the thieves managed to deal with Kosuke’s clone easily, while also doing formidable damage to Kosuke himself.

After a decisive hit to Kosuke, he yelled. “GAHHHHHHHHHHH!” The ink started to melt off his head and hand, revealing his true appearance. He hell to his knees and started punching the ground beneath him. “GAHHHHHHHHHHH!”

The thieves were shocked. While they were expecting something, this was slightly different than what happened with Shiho. Yusuke walked over to him. “Kosuke.”

“Why?” He trembled. “Why am I never strong enough?”

“I beg your pardon?” Yusuke asked.

“My parents...you...everyone else I met under Madarame...I’m never strong enough to protect them,” Kosuke lamented. “Time and time again, I fail! I’m pathetic.”

The thieves remained silent for a moment. Sumire walked over. “You protected us yesterday,” she pointed out.

Kosuke looked up. “Heh. That is you, huh. Heh heh. I guess I am good for something sometimes.”

“I understand how you feel,” Yusuke said. “I’ve had trouble proving my own worth for quite some time as well. While I can’t relate to what you went through exactly, I can understand why you would want to do all of this.”

“You’re not mad at me?” Kosuke asked.

Yusuke shook his head. “I’m only mad at Madarame.”

“HA!” Kosuke laughed. He laid down on his back. “I guess I was being a bit selfish by only allowing me to get my revenge. That’s why you were always the best of us Yusuke. You always had eyes on the bigger picture.” He looked at Yusuke. “What you’re doing will make Madarame pay for his crimes?” Yusuke quietly nodded. “Good. Promise me this: Once all this is settled, I want you to be the best damn artist you can be.”

Yusuke kneeled down to meet him. “I promise.”

“Good. See you on the other side” Kosuke said, fading away.

Yusuke stood up. “Farewell.”

“Now, about Madarame,” Jose pointed out.

“I got it,” Ryuji said. He dragged Madarame out, still trapped within his fake painting. “Yo. We’ll be taking the real deal. You gonna confess, or do we have to mess you up too?”

“I’ll confess!” Madarame said, worried. “I never thought that darkness would return. But I don’t want to face it any more!”

“Darkness?” Sumire wondered.

“Yeah” Ann answered. “When someone takes over, the palace owner faces a darkness that apparently swallows them.”

“Wait a minute,” Ren said. “What do you mean ‘return’?”

“Huh?” Ann said.

“He said he never thought it would return'' Ren said. She grabbed Madarame “What does that mean?”

“I’ve faced it before,” Madarame said. “As an example of what happens when you cross them!”

The thieves were surprised. “Who is ‘them’?!” Ryuji demanded.

“I don’t know all of them,” Madarame said. “But they tell me they’re using this sort of power to help shape Japan. They said I could be among the elite if I helped them, so I did. They wanted to see how a mental shutdown works, and I volunteered.”

“You wanted to be even greater than you are now?” Yusuke said, raising his voice. “Pathetic.”

“I’m sorry,” Madarame said.

“Tell that to the public,” Yusuke told him. Madarame faced with a horrified look on his face.

There was an explosion. “What was that?” Sumire asked.

“The palace is about to collapse,” Morgana said. “Panther!” He threw the treasure to her. He transformed into a car. “Hop in!” The thieves entered the car and they drove off.

Once they got out, the phone sounded. “Location Deleted.”

“Man, that was something else,” Ryuji said.

“You’re telling me,” Sumire said. “I haven’t done one of these before.”

“I didn’t know the metaverse could break like that,” Jose said.

Ann was still breathing heavily. She looked at the canvas. “Huh?”

“What is it?” Yusuke asked.

Ann turned it around. It was still the real “Sayuri”, baby Yusuke and all. “I’m just surprised because last time Kamoshida’s treasure changed shape once we took it out of the metaverse.”

“Huh” Jose said.

“Well, I guess that shows how much influence the ‘Sayuri’ really has,” Yusuke noted.

“No kiddin’” Ryuji said.

“Are we good?” Ren asked.

“I think so,” Morgana said.

“Good,” Ren siad, sighed. “I’m exhausted.

“Wait, what about that thing Madarame told us about?” Ryuji asked.

“I’d like to know more about that too,” Yusuke added. “As well as a few other things.”

“Me too, but” Sumire began, “maybe that can wait for another time.”

“Yeah today was enough as is” Ann said. “We should probably meet up to discuss this when our heads are clearer.”

“Agreed” Yusuke said.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. I’m beat” Ryuji admitted. “Well, see ya.” He started walking off.

Just as the rest of the thieves were breaking off, Ann stopped Yusuke. “Yusuke.” She handed him the painting. “I think this should go to you.”

Yusuke was surprised. He smiled, said “Thank you,” and headed back home. Ann smiled and she headed home as well.

[ramblings-of-a-mad-cat]

Back again with one of my classic asks. With spooky season nearly upon us, I’d love to know what you think the boggarts are for the HPHM crew. 👻

Oh snap, I’ve thought about this a lot and it’s another one of those magical signatures that flesh out a character that are always fun to think about. Let’s see what I can come up with! This is going to be very disorganized and I apologize for that. 

Some of the characters are confirmed, we know for a fact that Tulip and Penny’s Boggarts are Merula and a Werewolf respectively. We also learn some of the other characters’ fears, although it’s not confirmed if they would be their Boggarts. Bill fears losing his family, meaning his Boggart would very likely be the same as Molly’s. Though it might be an easy way out, I think that Charlie would have the same values and probably have the same Boggart. Rowan feared failing their exams, which means that maybe it would be similar to Hermione’s and just be their Head of House condemning their failure. Or perhaps someone closer to them. Just imagine Rowan seeing their brother, or MC looking at them in disappointment? 

Barnaby is said to fear clowns, and that’s genuinely hilarious. However, I have to wonder if they would  really be his Boggart form. Though he pushes it down all the time, Year 5 makes it very clear that he lives in an abusive household. I’ve seen a lot of head-canons that Lucius would be Draco’s Boggart, but I’ve never agreed with them because however terrible Lucius was at parenting, he was never abusive - at least not to Draco. Barnaby, on the other hand? I wouldn’t be surprised if his Boggart is his father. Alternatively, I find myself remembering how he gravitated toward Merula and Ismelda, despite how they would hurt him. MC helped him see that he was being used. Maybe Barnaby fears being hurt by people close to him? Maybe the Boggart would be something more like a shadowy, scary figure - beckoning to him. The dissonance when one isn’t sure about the difference between abuse and love.

Then there’s Tonks. She’s said to fear losing her abilities. This is one of the only times she ever talks about her shape-shifting powers in a serious moment that isn’t played for laughs. She fears losing her powers? Why would that be? I think I know. I think I know why she constantly makes animals noses, and has her hair pink or purple or whatever color. I think I know why she prefers her surname. And sure, part of it would be that “Nymphadora” sucks as a name, but it’s not like “Tonks” is that much more “normal.” No...I think Tonks wants to distance herself from her mother’s side of the family. I think she’s low-key ashamed to be related to people like Bellatrix. I bet she’s the spitting image of Andromeda, who as we know, is the spitting image of Bellatrix. Maybe that’s why Tonks never shows her real face. Why she embraces the muggle side of her family more. Why she would fear the loss of abilities that let her present herself as she wants to be. As to what her Boggart would physically look like? Maybe Bellatrix herself.

We don’t have any canon information about any other characters, but let’s talk about Ben. I can’t say for certain what his Boggart would be, but I know where his fear lies. Ben is keeping some kind of secret. He’s definitely on our side, but he’s not telling the whole truth. Maybe he’s trying to protect MC, I don’t know. But I bet he fears, or at least feared, what MC’s reaction would be to learning this secret and learning that Ben lied. Imagine his Boggart being MC hating him and turning their back on him for it. Of course, after Chapter 18, I think it would turn into Rowan’s corpse. I doubt I need to explain why. 

Let’s get a bit obscure for a second. This one is more of a head-canon than anything else because there really isn’t any evidence for it beyond how I interpret the character. But when it comes to Badeea, I think she fears the loss of her senses, and her awareness. To put it simply, she fears losing her mind. Being unable to appreciate the world for all of the beauty and wonder it has, all of the new secrets she can learn. I think she’d be afraid of going blind, because that would painting a lot more difficult. I can envision her Boggart taking the form of Badeea herself, visibly unhinged. Blind and stumbling around, muttering to herself. 

I’m not sure what Liz would have as a Boggart, but I have to assume it would reflect on what she finds important. The things that are important to us are ultimately going to shape our greatest fears. Liz is an activist, we know this. I think she fears the evil that humanity is capable of, especially to the innocent. She fears the trauma that cannot be spoken, because the victims lack the language to ask why this is being done to them. Children and creatures, primarily. I could see Liz’s Boggart taking a couple of different forms. Maybe a wounded animal in a cage. Sometimes it’s difficult to figure out what a Boggart would do for the more abstract fears...

Merula is one of the characters that I know exactly what her Boggart would be. At first it was Jacob’s Sibling. She feared them, felt intimidated by them. We know this - that was the real reason she locked them in a room with Devil’s Snare. She’s also envious of them - I wouldn’t be surprised if they played some role in her Erised vision as well. But post-Portrait Vault? Come on, we all know who her Boggart is. That seems almost like a given. You may be surprised that I’m not listing her mother, but Pre-Portrait Vault and post, I just don’t believe it would be. I’m not saying Mrs. Snyde is a good person or a good mother, but Merula seems to genuinely love and miss her. 

Chiara is different from Remus in that he hated himself for what he was. I don’t think that Chiara does. I think she has self-respect, but just because that’s true, it doesn’t mean the rest of the world respects her or would look at her with anything but fear and hatred if she shared her entire self. We see this with her trauma over what happened with Selina, and I think we have our answer right there. Young Selina, screaming and terrified when she saw Chiara’s transformation. We never got official confirmation that this was her Boggart, but it’s exactly the kind of thing that would be. It represents all of her insecurities. And sure, MC witnessing her transformation may have helped with that, but I don’t think for one second that it all went away. 

Talbott is another character who all but tells us what his Boggart would be. It’s said that many people who grew up during the First Wizarding War had Voldemort as their Boggart, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Talbott did. (Would make far more sense than MC having Voldemort as a Boggart, that’s for damn sure.) Or if not Voldemort himself, a Death Eater. Could also be his parents’ corpses. Hell, he said that they only found his parents because of the Animagus Registry. Suppose they were killed in animal form. Suppose his Boggart is a swan, lying slain and bloody. There are multiple forms it could take, but it’s crystal clear what Talbott fears the most. He fears the people who murdered his parents, and he fears that he’ll suffer the same fate and that they will have died for nothing.

Okay, I knew you were waiting for this one. Skye Parkin. Another character who’s anxieties are worn on her sleeves, pretty much blatantly. I’m not sure what form the Boggart would take. But it seems clear to me that she’s insecure about her own talent as a Quidditch player, not to mention her lack of social skills. She’s under tremendous pressure and she would have anxiety about not living up to that pressure. Would her Boggart take the shape of Ethan? Maybe. But similar to Merula, I’m not sure because at least on a conscious level, Skye doesn’t seem to realize that she fears him. The Boggart could just as easily take the shape of Rath. Either way, it would have quite a bit of fear to go on. 

Let’s talk about Jae. I’m not sure how canon this is but I’ve heard that the reason he’s dealing in Dark Artifacts is for the sake of his mother, and I really like that idea. It implies that there’s a lot more going on with him and with his family. I can only assume there’s no Dad in the picture. I can only assume that perhaps they aren’t doing that well financially. He can bond with Charlie over that. In any event, I think Jae’s biggest fear is his operations shutting down, that he might get caught or busted. Because he probably depends on this business to help his mother. Not sure what form that Boggart would take, perhaps Ministry wizards showing up to arrest him? Perhaps something to do with his mother? 

Ismelda. Oh Ismelda. Again, we all know what the source of her fear and her pain is. We all know her baggage. Then again, I think her reaction to her family has manifested more into hate, than actual fear. On the other hand, she seemed pretty scared when she thought Merula was going to ditch her for MC. I have to assume that, at one point, she desperately wanted her parents’ attention and feared that they would never love her, before she settled into bitter acceptance of that. I think Ismelda’s fear would look similar to Badeea’s, in that it would take the shape of Ismelda herself in the state that she fears - her being all alone with no one caring about her. Or maybe it would take the form of her sister, throwing this in her face.

Orion seems to value one thing more than anything or anyone else, and that is his family. He lost one family before, and now he has a new one in the form of his Quidditch team. I think he has an interesting perspective about them, and however odd his choices may be I think he’s fully invested in helping them and seeing them grow into the best people and players they can be. I wonder if the reason he’s hesitated to get too involved in the whole fiasco with Skye, is because he fears conflict? If so, I can relate to that. Or maybe he sees something that we don’t. Either way, I don’t think he’ll ever kick Skye off the team because she’s part of that family. His Boggart is probably something to do with his family, and serious harm coming to them. I’ve always speculated that his family died of natural causes. Maybe he fears his new family will dissipate in similar ways? The old fear of losing touch with people after everyone leaves school? Again, this is getting primarily into head-canons and I know I’ve rambled on, but I wonder if his Boggart wouldn’t be the members of his team, reuniting with him and barely remembering or caring about him...

I haven’t covered everyone, but with characters like say, Murphy and Diego and Andre, I have genuinely no idea what their Boggart would be. These are the characters that I’ve had ideas about for a while and I’m so glad I was able to share them, so thank you for that!

[morphedphaseblog]

The starless sea by Erin Morgenstern

Goodreads version

The introduction

This is just to warn everyone that I'm not a literature student, an English major nor a native English speaker, so I'm sorry in advance if this is a jumbled mess. I tend to ramble a lot but I've really tried to keep this as short as possible. (Short meaning a little bit over two thousand words for one review, I've never written a review this long.) I wrote this for self indulgence and for my lovely book club @readerbookclub

The first impression

This book pleasantly surprised me, it was like a very long dream that you don't want to wake up from. The moment I finished it I wished that I hadn't because I couldn't part from it just yet. It would feel almost like cheating, I wanted the intertwined stories to continue and for me to remain in its trance, lost in the beautiful writing and bizarre world.

I will be the first to admit that when someone says the story is written almost poem-like, in prose, and similar, I will immediately think of meaningless quotes that are there just to look pretty. Characters saying things just to sound deep, frilly writing that leads nowhere, and dragged on descriptions that had no place being that long and boring. Those are the first things I think of when I'm confronted with someone explaining those kinds of books to me, and that's completely my fault. This book was none of that, it was captivating from the first page to the last.

"There is a pirate in the basement. (The pirate is a metaphor but also still a person.) "

I can tell you, when I first read this, on the first goddamn page, I was hooked. This book has a strong bizzare sort of setting, one that almost reminds me of Neil Gaiman, distinctively Neverwhere with its underground society and twisted perceptions of reality, and yet this book stands out on its own as an individual. It's definitely a unique book, one that I'm still hesitant to part from.

The writing

This book has a very unique writing style, one that is extremely consistent throughout the book. There's nothing I hate more than an inconsistent writing style that changes without a reason. The author plays around with words and describes things simply yet poetically. There were only maybe two instances where I thought the writing was a bit pretentious, but ultimately the good outweighs the bad.

I don't know what exactly it is, but I will try and explain through the next few quotes:

"The book is mis-shelved in the fiction section, even though the majority of it is true and the rest is true enough"

(This really gives you the sense of vague foreshadowing in the book, where even though the description tells you sweet sorrows is mostly true you don't realise how true it actually is. I never saw the fact that the characters in that book would be actual people that interact with our main characters. Plus the writing is really pretty)

"It's binding has been cracked a handful of times, once a professor even perused the first few pages and intended to come back to it but forgot about it instead."

(Is it just me but these small detailed descriptions really give you a sense of real world happenings and that the story is really set in the real world. You can imagine people passing their fingers over the spine of the book before glancing around and getting distracted with something else. The professor taking it into his hands and skimming it but ultimately forgetting all about it later, and finally Zachary reading the whole book from top to bottom.)

"His dark hair is grading at the temples, framing a face that would be called handsome if the word rugged or unconventionally were attached to it."

(Now I'm in love with this kind of mental visual, it's fun and it almost plays with your expectations. I just really like small things like these, they immediately make my reading extremely entertaining.)

"Someone in the corner is dressed as a highly recognizable author or, Zachary thinks as he gets a closer look, it might be that highly recognizable author."

(Again as before, this is the kind of writing I like. It plays with your imaginary visuals of what's happening and making them ten times more fun, especially when we confirm a bit later that that had indeed been that highly recognizable author.)

"He walks over bones he mistakes for dust and nothingness he mistakes for bones."

(Yet another example of those fun visuals, I didn't even realise how many of these I had marked until I had to go through them for this review. I just adore this writing style.)

I have so many more of these so here are just a few more to really make this review even longer:

"A portrait of a young man in a coat with a great many buttons but the buttons are all tiny clocks, from the collar to the cuffs, each reading different times."

"His face is so much more than hair and eye colour, she wonders why books do not describe the curves of noses or the length of the eyelashes. She studies the shape of his lips. Perhaps a face is too complicated to capture in words."

"There are dozens of giant statues. Some figures have animal heads and others have list their heads entirely. They are listed throughout the space in a way that looks so organic that Zachary would not be surprised if they moved, or perhaps they are moving, very, very slowly."

"The figure in the chair is carved from snow and ice. As her gown cascades down around the chair the ripples in the fabric become waves, and within waves there are ships and sailors and sea monsters and then the sea within her gown is lost in the drifting snow."

"Allegra watches him with studied interest from the other end of the table, the way one watches a tiger in a zoo or possibly the way the tiger watches the tourists."

"It sounds strange and empty now, in her head. Rhyme can hear the hum of the past stories though they are low and quiet, the stories always calm once they have been written down whether they are past stories or present stories or future stories.

It is the absence of the high-pitched stories of the future that is the most strange. There is the thrum of what will pass in the next few minutes buzzing in her ears- so faint compared to the tales layered upon tales that she once heard- and then nothing. Then this place will have no more tales to tell." .

(Probably one of my favourites, it really highlights everything I like about this style of writing.)

Another kind of writing style I noticed in the book was an abundance of making things literally feel alive, giving human emotions to objects, personification. I don't come across this too often in other books, and when it happens it isn't repeated as often in that same book,since it tends to get old, but as we have already learned Erin Morgenstern never makes this boring. She plays around with this and never seems to stop, adding another layer to her writing cake. I love how she gives these characteristics to even the smallest of crevices hidden in shadows, something just people wouldn't even think of.

"He takes his torch and explores the shadows, away from the doors and the tent, among jagged crystals and forgotten architecture. He carries the light into places long unfamiliar with illumination that accept it like a half-remembered dream."

"Outside the inn the wind howls, confused by this turn of events. (The wind does not like to be confused. Confusion ruins it's sense of direction and direction is everything to the wind.)"

"The wind howls after him as he leaves in fear of what is to come, but a mortal cannot understand the wishes of the wind no matter how loud it cries and so these final warnings go unheeded."

"If the sword could sigh with relief as it is taken from its scabbard it would, for it has been lost and found so many times before and it knows this time will be the last."

One more thing that caught my eye in the writing was also the composition, where we technically start with in medias Res. We find out by the end of the book that everything that has happened was one big ass story wrapped in stories and overlapped with other stories. So Zachary literally comes in not even in the middle of the story, but at the very end that has been overdue for quite some time. This makes for a very interesting storyline as all the other storylines intertwine into eachother, it makes for an even more interesting read as our MC comes in only when the plot is at its end, tipping over the very edge.

(I also got the feeling that the entire book is almost told through the perspective of the story, if that makes any sense whatsoever. It's almost like the story, that is bound together like the most complicated twister game, is alive and is smiling over our characters smugly waiting for everything to run its course. Like an omnipresent god, that's at least the vibe I got reading the book. )

The world building

Now in my opinion the world building goes hand in hand with the writing in this book. Every detail I mentioned before builds the atmosphere and the base of all the world building in this book. The way the plot is written is written also contributes to the world building, as all the stories overlap and meet at the very end. The looping plot line is actually my number one favourite thing in the entire book.

There isn't that much to say except 'what the hell is going on?' in the best way possible, to the world building, because as confusing as it can be it's amazing to read and I think that it's one of my favourite aspects of the book.

The Characters

Now is time for the weakest part of the book, its characters, who even though I think are amazing, are definitely flatter than everything else in the book.

In my opinion most characters personalities I just can't pinpoint, and even though this personally doesn't take away from my enjoyment too much, I know a lot of people love well defined character personalities.

For some characters I can understand the constant change in character, like Mirabel, whose multiple lifetimes make it so it makes sense why her personalities overlap and make little sense. She constantly felt a bit inconsistent to me, but again I personally didn't think it ruined the book.

The most well developed personalities I could feel were Kat and the keeper, and at times Dorian. Zachary is a weird gray area for me, because even though I loved his character, I can't really tell who he is besides the son of the fortuneteller. I think that most of the character building was sacrificed to make the plot and the world feel alive. As I said before, it feels like the omnipresent god and the world is more developed than any of the characters personalities.

I usually love marking all 'character moments' where I feel like I can understand what kind of person the character is, their sense of humour, friendship, socializing, thinking and so on. But I found myself marking basically nothing of that kind in this book, just the beautiful descriptions of the world. The story was just more alive than the characters in it.

I liked all the romances even though they all lacked some depth, but the fairytale style writing of the romance definitely made them extremely enjoyable. If it weren't for the fairytale vibe all the romance would have been just flat, and I  wouldn’t be invested at all.

The Conclusion

I wouldn't reccomend this book for everyone, as I think great many people wouldn't be fans of the writing, and so the lack of character depth wouldn't help either and there would be no good to outweigh the bad. I truly think this book is a perfect 4 starts but to me personally it is 5 stars. I am just such a big fan of the looping storyline, I still haven't gotten over that. To finish it all off here are a few extra quotes that I liked:

"No one takes responsibility. Everyone assumes someone else will do it, so no one does."

"It is critical to steep the tests in ignorance to result in uncorrupted responses."

"They all have similar elements, though. All stories do, no matter what form they take. Something was, and then something changed. Change is what a story is, after all."

[wangxianfics]

Yes, we do :))!

This is a mix of both “Teacher / Professor! WWX” fics:

Joy in the Midst of These Things by Glitterbombshell (29+K, Teen, Series)

(Post-Canon, Hurt & Comfort, Juniors, Snowball Fight, Teacher!WWX, Fluff)

“Wei Wuxian,” the man grits out, and he pauses with one hand reaching for the door handle. The disciple who had come in to speak to Lan Qiren brushes past him and exits the pavilion without a backwards glance. Wei Wuxian turns back to Master Lan, one eyebrow tilting up in question. “An urgent matter has come up,” Lan Qiren says, every word sounding like it’s being forcibly dragged from him. “His Excellency requests my presence. Their current instructor is ill, I was meant to take over classes for today,” he continues, gesturing towards the tiny juniors. He swallows heavily, and the next sentence sounds bitter. Choked. “I cannot leave them unattended.”

Wei Wuxian just blinks at him.

Or

Wei Wuxian is asked (under duress) to babysit a class of tiny Lan cultivators for just a few minutes. A few minutes turns into an hour, turns into two hours, turns into an impromptu literal field trip and now there’s an entire class that is weeks ahead of their curriculum, their most junior disciples have apparently imprinted on Wei Wuxian like baby birds, and Lan Qiren has no one to blame but himself.

Especially the 1st and 2nd part of the series^^

The Painting of Hei Caihong by skulltoki (55+K, Explicit)

(Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Teacher!WWX, Teacher!LWJ, Case Fic)

“It is a portrait of a long haired person. A man with black hair. He is sleeping outside and going by the background and the spots of sunlight, he must be situated under a tree. He is wearing robes with lots of different colours on them, but the colours are very light in shade. There is yellow, pink, green, but they are barely noticeable. From afar you’d see it as white. He wears a very detailed hairpiece too, so he was someone of importance.”

Or, in other words, a self indulgent case fic where the bunnies have disappeared and WWX and LWJ are occupied with solving the mystery of a haunted painting.

his heart an open wound by DameJudiWench (2+K, General)

(Post-Canon, PTSD, Teacher!WWX, Emotional Hurt & Comfort, Family Feels)

It's Sizhui who brings it to Lan Wangji's attention, his words so careful and apologetic that at first, Lan Wangji wonders what his son could possibly have done to be so apprehensive.

wherever the chaos is by wearing_tearing (1+K, General)

(Post-Canon, Curtain Fic, Fluff, Teacher!WWX)

“But, Teacher Wei—”

“I believe in you! If you really need my help, I’ll come down from the tree, I promise.”

*

Lan Wangji does not regret his decision to let Wei Ying teach classes in the Cloud Recesses.

A Perfect Match by elliemoran (2+K, Teen)

(Modern AU, College AU, Junior Disciples, Matchmaking, Eavesdropping)

Professor Wei Ying doesn’t expect to overhear a bunch of his students discussing what a good match he’d make with Professor Lan, but one afternoon at the library that’s exactly what happens.

And now he gets to decide what to do with that information.

Even if he isn’t entirely sure which Professor Lan they meant.

Unstrictly Ballroom by Ariaste (47+K, Teen)

(Modern AU, Stripper AU, Everyone lives, Mutual Pining, Wangxian.mp3)

Thirteen years ago, Wei Wuxian brought scandal and shame down upon his head and was thrown out of the competitive ballroom dance circuit. He vanished, never to be heard from again.

Lan Wangji aches when he remembers the way Wei Ying danced–like a laugh given movement and form. He has never stopped searching for him.

NIGHT-HUNTING by detention_notes (30+K, Teen)

(Modern AU, Ghost Hunters, Teachers AU, Established Relationship, Recreational Drinking / Drug Abuse, Everyone Lives)

Wei Ying, Lan Zhan, Nie Huaisang, and Wen Ning film a campy ghost-hunting show in their spare time. (Hey, it’s a good break from the stress of their day jobs.) But as episodes unfold, their lives are littered with a slew of spooky scenarios. And when hijinks turn to chaos, Lan Zhan and Wei Ying must pause their PDA (alas!) to discover who’s been contacting them. And why. And how the hell to make it stop.

night rather than day by lofikv (11+K, WIP 4/5, Mature)

(Modern AU, Camboy!WWX, Professor!WWX, Mutual Pining, Sex Toys)

During daytime, Wei Ying is a high school professor. Teaching bratty teenagers who has a more active love life than him and annoying possibly every member of the faculty at any chance. (Except Lan Wangji, because rumors say that the man is utterly smitten by the cheerful professor.)

At night, Wei Ying is sluttysuibian, a top-ranking camboy.

i think you’ll stay by mme_anxious (

i think you’ll stay by mme_anxious (2+K, General)

(Modern AU, Professor!WWX, Professor LWJ, Valentine’s Day Fluff, SangCheng as Matchmakers, Mutual Pining, Love Confessions)

Wei Ying,

Please forgive me for saying this, but I can’t stay silent. I have feelings for you. Please, will you be my valentine?

Sincerely,

Lan Zhan

"This,” Wei Ying breathes to himself, because he really needs to process this somehow. “This is—the worst valentine. What the fuck, Lan Zhan.”

-

wangxian receive valentines

and in the spring i shed my skin by wvlfqveen (11+K, Teen)

(Modern AU With Magic, Professor!WWX, Professor!LWJ, Shapeshifter!LWJ)

"Mr. Wei,” Lan Xichen greets, sounding amused. “To what do I owe the honour?”

“Do you happen to know where Lan Zhan is? I’m waiting for him in his classroom but he hasn’t come back and it looks like he left in a hurry. He even left one of his rabbits behind!”

Lan Xichen says nothing for long enough that Wei Ying wonders if the line dropped. He glances at his phone. The call is still ongoing.

“He left one of his rabbits?”

fire and other things you shouldn’t trust by arahir (5+K, General)

(Humor, Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Teacher!WWX)

Wei Wuxian is teacher of the year.

“What are you doing?” Jin Ling asks, against his better judgment.

“Shortening the fuse,” Wei Wuxian says after a moment, implying both that there is a fuse long enough to be shortened and that this is a thing anyone would want to do.

“I don’t think that’s—”

“Jin Ling. Please. He’s an expert.”

[anistarrose]

Stan and Ford Vs. The Future - Chapter 3

Summary: Tensions rise between the young and old twins as they’re tried for their time travel crimes, but Stan has a plan to fix everything.

Warnings: none this chapter

AO3: archiveofourown.org/works/17353937/chapters/53190085

…Well, that sure was quite a hiatus, wasn’t it? Oops! Let’s just not think about that too much and hop right back into the story. (Or reread the previous chapters either on AO3 or in my “safvtf au” tag on Tumblr, because I can see why a refresher might be useful.)

But anyways, this is for @stanuary Week 3: AU!

***

Stan’s hands are cuffed in front of him, and he stays close by Ford’s side as they’re marched into the arena with time cops flanking them. Their older selves lag behind at the end of the procession, refusing to make eye contact with each other, and young Stan’s not sure if that makes him feel better or worse than the glares the elder twins were exchanging earlier.

Their expressions are hard to read. The older Ford looks like he can’t make up his mind between feeling furious and feeling guilty, and the older Stan looks like he’s concentrating extremely hard on not letting his emotions show on his face at all.

At least the younger Ford, for his part, seems less and less upset by the minute. He’s staring at the matches ongoing in the arena with starry eyes, not so much captivated by the violence itself as much as the holographic weapons and alien monsters that the combatants are doing battle with. (And Stan has to admit, the laser guns do look pretty cool.)

“Halt, time criminals!” one of the time cops barks as they approach the stands. The older Ford is so lost in thought that he keeps walking and nearly bumps into young Stan in front of him, but the time cop sticks out a baton to stop him. “You will now await trial!”

“We’re awaiting trial, but we’re already criminals?” the younger Ford asks, and the older Ford snaps back to awareness, giving his young self an approving nod. “What happened until innocent until proven guilty?”

“You’re guilty until proven innocent in the future times!” another cop shouts with inexplicable enthusiasm. “There are also wars raging, species going extinct every day, and powerful politicians committing crimes without facing any significant consequences! Isn’t it fantastic?”

“So, what year is it now?” the younger Stan asks. “Wait, no, lemme guess. 2020?”

“You couldn’t be more wrong — it’s 207̃012! We’re approaching the bisñentennial anniversary of our supreme overlord Time Baby’s ascension to the high chair!”

The older Ford sighs. “I was never especially optimistic about the state of the justice system in the future, but this is worse than I’d feared.”

“I feel like we really glossed over that ‘supreme overlord Time Baby’ thing,” the older Stan says. “What the hell is a Time Baby?”

The audience begins to roar with excitement, and a column of neon purple light illuminates in front of them. A massive silhouette materializes within, and as the light fades, the figure becomes visible — a colossal infant with a glowing green hourglass symbol on his head, floating in a metallic seat equipped with proportionally sized teething toys.

“That, I’m assuming, is a Time Baby,” says the older Ford.

Older Stan groans. “Gee, you REALLY THINK SO?! I sure am glad I have my GENIUS BROTHER here with me, ‘cause I don’t know how dumb ol’ Stanley EVER woulda figured that one out for himself!!”

Young Ford scoots a little closer to his brother — the one his age, not the one he barely recognizes. Still clinging to optimism, he whispers: “Maybe that big baby will help us fix whatever got messed up in the timeline to make us turn out like this?”

“Maybe,” Stan whispers back. “But I wouldn’t count on it.”

Time Baby burps, drenching several dozen unfortunate audience members, and fixes his eyes on the younger twins.

“YOU TWO ARE ANOMALIES DISTORTING THE TIMELINE AND THREATENING TO UPSET YOUR CORRECT FUTURES,” he booms. “MY RULING IS AS FOLLOWS: YOUR MINDS WILL BE WIPED AND YOU WILL BE SENT BACK TO YOUR CORRECT CENTURY. THEN, WITH NO MEMORY OF THESE EVENTS, YOU WILL FOLLOW THE PRE-EXISTING TIME STREAM TO BECOME THE FUTURE SELVES STANDING BEHIND YOU TODAY.”

Time Baby doesn’t say so, but all young Stan hears is you’ll become a person who wants nothing to do with your brother.

The older Stan gestures between himself and the older Ford. “But hey, at least we’ll be free to go, right?” he asks in a tone that suggests he knows it won’t be that simple.

“OF COURSE NOT. WE CAN IMPRISON THE TWO OF YOU —” Time Baby points at the older twins, “— WITHOUT CREATING A PARADOX, SO YOU WILL SERVE PENANCE FOR YOUR CRIMES BOTH PAST AND PRESENT! SPECIFICALLY —”

He begins to count one by one using his fingers. “ONE — TWO — THREE — FOUR — FIVE LIFE SENTENCES EACH!”

“But that’s not fair!” young Stan shouts. “We weren’t trying to cause any paradoxes, I swear! You think — you think I wanted to come to the future and see me and my brother shouting about how much we hate each other? You think I wanted to know that’s all I have waiting for me when I grow up?”

“Stanley…” the older Ford interrupts, but young Stan ignores him.

“I hate this future! I never would’ve come here if I knew what I was doing!” He’s getting a little teary-eyed, and he hopes he can blame it on the arena’s bright neon lights if anyone asks.

“And if I didn’t have to grow up,” he adds softly, “I never would.”

“It’s going to be okay, Stan,” young Ford whispers. Still constrained by handcuffs, he awkwardly rummages through his pockets. “Look, I have an idea…”

He manages to retrieve the broken time tape, the source of all their troubles, and holds it as high as he can for Time Baby to see. “Look at this! We only got into this mess in the first place because we unintentionally stumbled across this thing — and it’s got your hourglass symbol on it, just like tapes that the officers who arrested us wear!”

A hush falls over the arena, and Ford crosses his arms as best he can in the handcuffs, smiling smugly. “Esteemed Supreme Ruler Time Baby, if your incompetent employees hadn’t lost this tape where two innocent, oblivious twelve-year-old kids could find it, none of this would’ve happened. So why don’t you throw them in jail instead of us? And maybe also erase their memories instead of ours, just for good measure?”

A blue-green tractor beam extends from the hourglass on Time Baby’s forehead, levitating the time tape out of Ford’s hands and into the air. The portrait of an officer is holographically displayed, depicting him wearing goggles and smiling uncomfortably.

“BLENDIN BLENJAMIN BLANDIN, OWNER OF THIS TAPE, WILL BE DISCHARGED FROM DUTY,” Time Baby announces. “BUT MY RULING FOR THE FOUR OF YOU STILL STANDS. NOW STOP WITH THESE APPEALS SO I CAN GET TO MY NAP, OR I MIGHT GET VERY CRANKY.”

“What?” young Ford cries. “How can you say that? Stan meant what he said — we didn’t know we were messing with a time machine! We only —”

“What about trial by combat?” old Ford interrupts, prompting his fellow prisoners to gasp as the audience chatters excitedly. “You do offer trial by combat here, correct?”

For the first time since his arrival, Time Baby smiles.

“Whoever invokes Globnar upon a competitor of their choosing shall not be denied!” one of the time cops recites. “The winner will be granted a Time Wish — the power to alter time free of paradoxes — and will also get to choose the loser’s fate!”

“It’s usually total erasure from existence via painful vaporization,” another cop chimes in.

“But be warned,” the first cop continues, “many games of Globnar have no winner at all because no one survives! The time trials will be fierce, thrilling, and often deadly! But you may select any opponent or opponents you desire from any moment in history, as long as you can explain why they’ve wronged you — so if you don’t fear complete existential obliteration, then have at it and name your challenger!”

Old Stan grabs his brother by the shoulders. “Are you seriously thinking about challenging our kid selves to a death match?”

“Obviously I wouldn’t be challenging the kids!” old Ford shoots back. “There are a million more strategically viable choices, for one thing —”

As the older twins continue to squabble, young Stan and young Ford exchange a look.

“Ford, do you trust me?” Stan asks.

“I know what you’re thinking, and it’s the craziest idea you’ve ever had,” Ford replies. “But of course I trust you. I’d follow you to the end of time itself.”

“Then let’s do this.” Stan grabs Ford’s hand, and with his free arm, points to their older selves. “Hey, older me! Older Ford! We invoke Globnar on you!”

The audience goes wild with feral roars and deafening applause.

“What?!” old Stan gasped. “Why us? Why not Crampelter, or any of your math teachers? How have we wronged you?”

“By ruining my friendship with my brother, you jerk!” young Stan shouts back. “I’m not you, and I’m never gonna become anything like you, ‘cause when I get that Time Wish I’m gonna make sure my Ford and I never grow up!”

The older Ford stares at his young self in shock. “You can’t possibly be okay with this, can you, Stanford?”

Young Ford scowls. “You would’ve erased my mind, and set me down the same path as you took all those years ago! I don’t know what mistakes you made with your life, but you clearly messed up somewhere — and if not growing up means I won’t make those mistakes for myself, then you know what? I think I’m alright with that!”

The old Ford flinches. He opens his mouth to reply, but can’t put a single counterargument into words.

“ONE GLOBNAR IS INVOKED, IT CANNOT BE TAKEN BACK! ARGUING IS FUTILE!” Time Baby declares. “BOTH TEAMS WILL HAVE ONE MINUTE TO DISCUSS STRATEGY. THAT TIME STARTS NOW!”

***

The young and old twins are separated as walls out of the floor, surrounding each pair. The arena’s screen displays a countdown clock accurate to the microsecond, and the crowd claps and shouts in sync with the flashing numbers. Their intensity grows as the timer falls, and more and more people join in the chant.

“So, when we win that time wish, are you still gonna be singing the praises of memory erasing?” the old Stan asks, shouting in order to make himself heard over the roar of the crowd. “Or have you got a different plan?”

Slumping against one of the walls, Ford groans — or at least, Stan assumes from his expression that he’s groaning. The pregame cheering has grown deafening.

“I — look, I don’t know! Probably not, if we don’t have to worry about time paradoxes at all! I need to ask for more clarification about how that works — but right now, the both of us should be more concerned with making sure those kids don’t win eternal youth and possibly erase us from existence altogether!”

“You really think we’d do that?!”

“You saw yourself!” Ford shouts back, expression grim. “You hated our future!”

“I still hate what happened to the two of us,” Stan blurts out before he can stop himself, but Ford doesn’t seem to hear, cupping a hand to his ear and squinting at Stan in confusion.

Before Stan can decide whether it’s a blessing or a curse, the countdown reaches zero and a shrill alarm bell begins to ring. The walls retract back into the floor, everyone’s handcuffs shatter, and an eerie silence fills the stadium for just a second, though the spectators remain tense with anticipation.

Then, Time Baby breaks that silence and bellows:

“LET GLOBNAR BEGIN!”