#i pray that the new year would bring major changes to the world we live in

[hopelesslovebug]

warmth

[do not tag as ship art]

[tapejob]

uhh why was china getting kicked out of the olympics

long story short: no but actually yes

currently, china's men's hockey team is the ranked 32rd worldwide, aka the lowest ranked team to qualify for the men's olympics in... a while

+ there's only uhh 12 teams in the men's tournament

now how they qualified at all was because after winning the olympic bid, china was granted automatic berths in both men's and women's hockey tournaments by the iihf

(in theory this is fine: iihf did this for south korea in 2018 + promising move to grow the game in china while also forcing china to buff its hockey programs in general + give china a chance to actually make headway in a major winter sport, which we've been historically abysmal at)

in practice this is very not fine

in preliminary qualifiers for the 2018 olympics, team china came dead last in group L, winning 0 games with a grand -21 goal differential against serbia, spain, and iceland (currently ranked #29, #31, and #35 respectively). it was so brutal i gaslighted myself into totally forgetting about it until i came across it again today

and btw china hasn't played an international game since 2019 bc of COVID

anyway remember back in april when they announced the olympic groupings:

what's that? what's that in the front? we have canada (#1), US (#6), germany (#7) and china (#32). okay.

also, in case you've forgotten (you haven't). daddy bettman is letting the nhl loose on the olympics this year, with crosby and mcdavid definitely out to tear up in team canada and who knows who else in the rest of the group. china gets net zero benefit from this whole ordeal: we have one (1) nhl player currently living his best life in cornell. he spent last year becoming a business analyst.

this isn't even like a regular year. the nhl talent pool alone right now? absolutely off the shits. scmp aptly puts it as "the planet’s most talent-rich ice hockey tournament in eight years"

bringing back this quote from a former coach because i think it sums up quintessential team china hockey:

you have got to help me

so basically no development internationally, abysmal roster at best with little changes at the senior level compared to the last olympics where we got completely rimmed blind

anyway

because the iihf is desperately trying not to rapidly descend into clown representation, we leave china with two options:

get china to recruit some boys from north america/europe with chinese heritage + naturalize them in time for the olympics so we have a decent roster

get kicked out

option 1 sounds pretty good, tbh, except for the fact that the iihf has a rule that players have to play in their new country for at least 2 years before switching nationalities. bit too late for that but this is okay because apparently we are so catastrophically bad that the iihf is willing to bend the eligibility rules to avoid a murder on international ice

option 1 would also sound pretty good because we've actually been recruiting a lot of our heritage boys via Kunlun Red Stars. not a bad choice, since it gives them runtime in the KHL

we are ignoring the fact that they haven't qualified for playoffs since their founding, and had the worst season in their history in 20-21

IT WOULD BE PRETTY GOOD except for the fact that apparently the KRS had a "falling out" with the chinese ice hockey association. now all our potential recruits (read: literally all ethnically chinese players) are unusable until the general administration of sports gets its shit together

you fucked up a perfectly good team is what they did. look at it. it's god anxiety.

"there are reports that players from the Soviet bloc are being considered, perhaps those from Central Asia, who look at least a little “Chinese”" stop stop stop stop stop oh my fucking god

there's also an emergency option which is to beg a ton of white guys to join. this is how we got our coach. we hired a canadian coach for team china hockey. who are we

we're on the trajectory to get pretty historically bodied which is something that the iihf would love to prevent and the US would love to enable. also read this hot take i found that made me start crying

"avoid rubbing it in" you have GOT TO HELP ME

anyway, there was a source from iihf that said there's nothing expected to change with china's participation, but luc tardif said there would be an official decision by end of october as to whether china gets the chopping block out of their very own tournament or face global demolition on the world stage

pray for me besties i am unwell

also bonus for some incredible headlines we got out of this:

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Anonymous asked: As a beginner in Classics I love your Classicist themed posts. I find your caption perfect posts a lot to think upon. I suppose it’s been more than a few years since you read Classics at Cambridge but my question is do you still bother to read any Classic texts and if so what are you currently reading?

I don’t know whether to be flattered or get depressed by your (sincere) remarks. Thank you so much for reminding me how old I must come across as my youngish Millennial bones are already starting to creak from all my sins of past sport injuries and physical exertions. I’m reminded of what J.R.R Tolkien wrote, “I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.” I know the feeling (sigh).

But pay heed, dear follower, to what Menander said of old age, Τίμα το γήρας, ου γαρ έρχεται μόνον (respect old age, for it does not come alone). Presumably he means we all carry baggage. One hopes that will be wisdom which is often in the form of experience, suffering, and regret. So I’m not ready to trade in my high heels and hiking boots for a walking stick and granny glasses just yet.

To answer your question, yes, I still to read Classical literature and poetry in their original text alongside trustworthy translations. Every day in fact. 

I learned Latin when I was around 8 or 9 years old and Greek came later - my father and grandfather are Classicists - and so it would be hard to shake it off even if I tried.

So why ‘bother’ to read Classics? There are several reasons. First, the Classics are the Swiss Army knife to unpick my understanding other European languages that I grew up with learning. Second, it increases my cultural literacy out of which you can form informed aesthetic judgements about any art form from art, music, and literature. Third, Classical history is our shared history which is so important to fathom one’s roots and traditions. Fourth, spending time with the Classics - poetry, myth, literature, history - inspires moral insight and virtue. Fifth, grappling with classical literature informs the mind by developing intellectual discipline, reason, and logic.

And finally, and perhaps one I find especially important, is that engaging with Classical literature, poetry, or history, is incredibly humbling; for the classical world first codified the great virtues of prudence, temperance, justice, loyalty, sacrifice, and courage. These are qualities that we all painfully fall short of in our every day lives and yet we still aspire to such heights.

I’m quite eclectic in my reading. I don’t really have a method other than what my mood happens to be. I have my trusty battered note book and pen and I sit my arse down to translate passages wherever I can carve out a place to think. It’s my answer to staving off premature dementia when I really get old because quite frankly I’m useless at Soduku. We spend so much time staring at screens and passively texting that we don’t allow ourselves to slow down and think that physically writing gives you that luxury of slow motion time and space. In writing things out you are taking the time to reflect on thoughts behind the written word.

I do make a point of reading Homer’s The Odyssey every year because it’s just one of my favourite stories of all time. Herodotus and Thucydides were authors I used to read almost every day when I was in the military and especially when I went out to war in Afghanistan. Not so much these days. Of the Greek poets, I still read Euripides for weighty stuff and Aristophanes for toilet humour. Aeschylus, Archilochus and Alcman, Sappho, Hesiod, and Mimnermus, Anacreon, Simonides, and others I read sporadically.

I read more Latin than Greek if I am honest. From Seneca, Caesar, Cicero, Sallust, Tacitus, Livy, Apuleius, Virgil, Ovid, the younger Pliny to Augustine (yes, that Saint Augustine of Hippo). Again, there is no method. I pull out a copy from my book shelves and put it in my tote bag when I know I’m going on a plane trip for work reasons.

At the moment I am spending time with Horace. More precisely, his famous odes.

Of all the Greek and Latin poets, I feel spiritually comfortable with Horace. He praises a simple life of moderation in a much gentler tone than other Roman writers. Although Horace’s odes were written in imitation of Greek writers like Sappho, I like his take on friendship, love, alcohol, Roman politics and poetry itself. With the arguable exception of Virgil, there is no more celebrated Roman poet than Horace. His Odes set a fashion among English speakers that come to bear on poets to this day. His Ars Poetica, a rumination on the art of poetry in the form of a letter, is one of the seminal works of literary criticism. Ben Jonson, Pope, Auden, and Frost are but a few of the major poets of the English language who owe a debt to the Roman.

We owe to Horace the phrases, “carpe diem” or “seize the day” and the “golden mean” for his beloved moderation. Victorian poet Alfred Lord Tennyson, of Ancient Mariner fame, praised the odes in verse and Wilfred Owen’s great World War I poem, Dulce et Decorum est, is a response to Horace’s oft-quoted belief that it is “sweet and fitting” to die for one’s country.

Unlike many poets, Horace lived a full life. And not always a happy one. Horace was born in Venusia, a small town in southern Italy, to a formerly enslaved mother. He was fortunate to have been the recipient of intense parental direction. His father spent a comparable fortune on his education, sending him to Rome to study. He later studied in Athens amidst the Stoics and Epicurean philosophers, immersing himself in Greek poetry. While led a life of scholarly idyll in Athens, a revolution came to Rome. Julius Caesar was murdered, and Horace fatefully lined up behind Brutus in the conflicts that would ensue. His learning enabled him to become a commander during the Battle of Philippi, but Horace saw his forces routed by those of Octavian and Mark Antony, another stop on the former’s road to becoming Emperor Augustus.

When he returned to Italy, Horace found that his family’s estate had been expropriated by Rome, and Horace was, according to his writings, left destitute. In 39 B.C., after Augustus granted amnesty, Horace became a secretary in the Roman treasury by buying the position of questor's scribe. In 38, Horace met and became the client of the artists' patron Maecenas, a close lieutenant to Augustus, who provided Horace with a villa in the Sabine Hills. From there he began to write his satires. Horace became the major lyric Latin poet of the era of the Augustus age. He is famed for his Odes as well as his caustic satires, and his book on writing, the Ars Poetica. His life and career were owed to Augustus, who was close to his patron, Maecenas. From this lofty, if tenuous, position, Horace became the voice of the new Roman Empire. When Horace died at age 59, he left his estate to Augustus and was buried near the tomb of his patron Maecenas.

Horace’s simple diction and exquisite arrangement give the odes an inevitable quality; the expression makes familiar thoughts new. While the language of the odes may be simple, their structure is complex. The odes can be seen as rhetorical arguments with a kind of logic that leads the reader to sometimes unexpected places. His odes speak of a love of the countryside that dedicates a farmer to his ancestral lands; exposes the ambition that drives one man to Olympic glory, another to political acclaim, and a third to wealth; the greed that compels the merchant to brave dangerous seas again and again rather than live modestly but safely; and even the tensions between the sexes that are at the root of the odes about relationships with women.

What I like then about Horace is his sense of moderation and he shows the gap between what we think we want and what we actually need. Horace has a preference for the small and simple over the grandiose. He’s all for independence and self-reliance.

If there is one thing I would nit pick Horace upon is his flippancy to the value of the religious and spiritual. The gods are often on his lips, but, in defiance of much contemporary feeling, he absolutely denied an afterlife - which as a Christian I would disagree with. So inevitably “gather ye rosebuds while ye may” is an ever recurrent theme, though Horace insists on a Golden Mean of moderation - deploring excess and always refusing, deprecating, dissuading.

All in all he champions the quiet life, a prayer I think many men and women pray to the gods to grant them when they are caught in the open Aegean, and a dark cloud has blotted out the moon, and the sailors no longer have the bright stars to guide them. A quiet life is the prayer of Thrace when madness leads to war. A quiet life is the prayer of the Medes when fighting with painted quivers: a commodity, Grosphus, that cannot be bought by jewels or purple or gold? For no riches, no consul’s lictor, can move on the disorders of an unhappy mind and the anxieties that flutter around coffered ceilings.

Caelum non animum mutant qui trans mare currunt (they change their sky, not their soul, who rush across the sea.)

Part of Horace’s persona - lack of political ambition, satisfaction with his life, gratitude for his land, and pride in his craft and the recognition it wins him - is an expression of an intricate web of awareness of place. Reading Horace will centre you and get you to focus on what is most important in life. In Horace’s discussion of what people in his society value, and where they place their energy and time, we can find something familiar. Horace brings his reader to the question - what do we value?  

Much like many of our own societies, Rome was bustling with trade and commerce, ambition, and an area of vast, diverse civilisation. People there faced similar decisions as we do today, in what we pursue and why. As many of us debate our place and purpose in our world, our poet reassures us all. We have been coursing through Mondays for thousands of years. Horace beckons us: take a brief moment from the day’s busy hours. Stretch a little, close your eyes while facing the warm sun, and hear the birds and the quiet stream. The mind that is happy for the present should refuse to worry about what is further ahead; it should dilute bitter things with a mild smile.

I would encourage anyone to read these treasures in translations. For you though, as a budding Classicist, read the texts in Latin and Greek if you can. Wrestle with the word. The struggle is its own reward. Whether one reads from the original or from a worthy translation, the moral virtue (one hopes) is wisdom and enlightenment.

Pulvis et umbra sumus

(We are but dust and shadow.)

Thanks for your question.

[alpacaparkaseok]

As Fate Would Have It

[1 / 5] 

Ghost

The last time I saw him was July 16, 1392. It was also the day I died. 

--

➣ pairing/genre: idol!KTH x reader, past life au // feat. OT7 BTS

➣ word count: 1.3k (jus a lil bitty beginning)

➣ warnings/tags: this is gonna talk about death, but not in a super gruesome/direct way. we keep things pretty SFW over here

a/n: here we goooo! thank you guys for sticking around for this new series, I hope you enjoy it! as always, your comments, reblogs, and asks mean so much to me and really help more than you know to keep going. So please let me know how you feel about this new series! Enjoy! 💕 p.s. if you didn’t read the prologue I would recommend you do! 

--

series masterlist || join the taglist

--

“This is a major downgrade,” you sulk while shivering beside a crowded bus stop.

           “Yeah, well,” Noa, your roommate gripes from your right, “at least you got to be royalty once. Quit complaining.”

           “I heard that Kate Middleton is on her third life, and she’s been royalty all three times!” Daeun chimes in from your left. She’s also shivering, clinging to a flimsy umbrella that’s doing a poor job of keeping the three of you safe from the rain.

           “Like what, born into royalty? Or did she manage to marry into it like this lifetime?”

           Daeun and Noa continue chattering away, throwing off multiple theories and speculating about Kate Middleton’s past lives. Of course it’s all guesswork; the details of previous lives are usually meant to be kept secret. However it provides a temporary distraction from the bad weather, which is all you can really ask for right now. Hopefully it will prove enough of a distraction to sway you from your rampant thoughts of last night’s dream.

           “Being born royal isn’t all that fun,” an elderly woman calls out as she ambles up from her seat to catch the approaching bus. It’s not the one you’re taking, that won’t be here for another couple of minutes. “My mistress saw a lot of sorrow in her day, and few remember her now. She deserved to be remembered, in my opinion. I owe her my first life.”

           You tilt your head, squinting a little as the woman gives a wistful sigh. A memory nudges you from the catacombs of your mind.

           “Who was your mistress?” The question falls from your lips before you can catch it.

           The woman blinks, smiling softly. It’s almost as though the mere thought of her past mistress brings her peace. “Iseul, the final daughter of the Goryeo dynasty.”

           The name carries a weight that comes crashing into you, both liberating and binding you to your memories. You’ve heard that name before, albeit centuries ago. And this woman…

           “Ja-young.”

           Two syllables, enormous power. The instant you utter them, the elderly woman gasps and drops her cane in shock. You rush forward, picking it up and placing it gently in her hands with a warm smile. There are tears in Ja-young’s eyes as you look at her, her old face creased with wrinkles and countless stories.

           “My…my lady…” Ja-young attempts to bow, drawing the attention of several onlookers. You grasp her shoulders, stopping her.

           “There’s no need to bow,” you reassure. “I’m just a girl now. I hold no power.”

           Ja-young shakes her head. “No, my lady. I- I owe you my first life! What you did for me-”

           “You would have done the same for me.”

           “Oh, my Lady…” Ja-young’s bottom lip quivers as she clutches your forearm with surprising strength. “My wish has been granted. For so long I’ve been waiting to meet you again. You look just as you did, all those years ago…how did I not see it sooner? So vibrant – you haven’t changed at all.”

           Noa and Daeun remain silent behind you, having experienced this before. It’s not your fault that nearly all your court from your first lifetime as the emperor’s daughter in the Goryeo dynasty have just so happened to be born within the same lifetime. Although, it does become a little odd when you cross paths with a gossipy maid or flirtatious errand boy in the produce aisle of your local grocery store.

           Life is funny that way. You’re on top of the world one moment, and living off of a diet of Mac n Cheese the next.

           “I’m happy to see you like this,” you smile. “You’ve lived a full life, it appears.”

           Ja-young inclines her head. “As I did in my first lifetime, so long ago. My Lady-”

           “I’m afraid that I’m just Hana now,” you gently correct. Despite the fact that you’re living in the 21st century, you still aren’t the most keen on the general public discovering your identity. Not when there’s potential danger still lurking out there.

           “Oh, if that’s the case then I’m Ma-ri now,” Ja-young – now Ma-ri says. “Hana, I’ve been praying for the opportunity to see you again. I’m running out of time now.”

           Time. It once seemed so infinite. And now it’s slipping through your fingertips faster than you can keep up.

           “You’ve made it to your fourth…?”

           Ma-ri nods solemnly. “And final lifetime. But I wanted to tell you, my Lady, that I kept my promise to you. I visited your grave often, I told my children stories of you. However, I wasn’t the only one who frequented the site.”

           You jump as the bus driver lets out a shrill honk, clearly impatient. Ma-ri turns around, waving him on. With a shrug and an eye-roll, the bus driver closes the doors and continues on his way. Now the bus stop is empty save for your party of four.

           “Who else visited me?” You ask, curious now at the gleam in Ma-ri’s eye. She had always been a feisty one, if you remember correctly.

           An invisible shudder runs through Ma-ri’s body as she finally delivers the message she’s waited three lifetimes to deliver. Indeed, she can pass on to the unknown now that she’s finally laid eyes on her mistress once more.

           “Sungho.”

--

           “Kim Taehyung is not a murderer!” Noa defends, crossing her arms protectively as you clench your jaw.

           “No, but Sungho was. And they’re one and the same, aren’t they?” You mirror her, also crossing your arms. “Aren’tthey?”

           Your eyes flicker across the street, toward a billboard that lauds a BTS sponsorship for all to see. However, all you see is Sungho, smiling down at you with those same dark eyes from centuries ago.

           Ma-ri left just a few minutes ago, catching a bus and leaving you with a scribbled address to visit anytime you wanted. You tucked it away safely into the pocket of your jeans before losing your mind.

           “Hana, I don’t think you should be directing your anger at Taehyung,” Daeun quietly interjects, standing just off to the side. “He’s done a lot of good in this life-”

           “You’ll understand when you’re older!” You grind out. Noa winces, but begrudgingly agrees.

           “Yeah…sorry Daeun, but you’re a first-lifer. You’ll understand the next time around. It’s hard to separate people from what they were before.”

           Daeun doesn’t argue, knowing it’s pointless. Living with seasoned lifers, as people who have lived multiple lives have been so lovingly dubbed, doesn’t allow much room for argument. Noa sports two past lives, enjoying her third. And you…

           “Is this really how you wanna live this life?” Noa says, arching a brow. “Angry at some idol philanthropist just because of what happened in your first life? C’mon, Hana. That was three lifetimes ago.”

           “You’re not suggesting that I get over it, are you?”

           “Well…”

           “Nuh-uh,” you take a step back, offended. “No way. Goryeo fell, I died, and he was there to watch everything burn to the ground. And I’m just supposed to let it go all because he’s some adored global icon?”

           “YES!” Both Noa and Daeun shout, sending a few birds flying from a nearby bush.

           You pause to think, staring daggers up at the billboard and Taehyung’s flawless features. Perhaps you would find him beautiful if it weren’t for the past marring your current viewpoint. You stare and stare, mind whirring with the possibilities of all that you could do instead of forgiving.

           “It’s no use sitting here and sulking about the past, not when I can’t do anything about it…” you start, ignoring the relieved expressions on your roommates’ faces.

           “Good, that’s good.”

           “But…”

           “No, back up. You were doing so well!”

           The corners of your lips turn up into an evil grin. “…I have an idea.”

           Daeun groans. “What’s the stupid idea now?”

           You shake your head, stepping forward as the bus rounds the corner. “I’m not telling you.”

           “Why not?”

           “Because you’ll try to stop me.”

           Noa elbows you lightly. “At least tell us what your end goal is here.”

           The bus pulls up, doors opening and a flurry of people pouring out onto the street. In the din and chaos of it all, you turn to your friends.

           “If you can’t beat them…” again, your eyes fall on the billboard, quickly finding Taehyung’s eyes among the rest. “Join ‘em.”

--

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[pradaksj]

7 Rings | 02

♛ pairing: taehyung/reader

♛ genre: richboy!taehyung | blackmailer!reader | infiltration au | future smut | angst.

♛ rating: mature

♛ word count: 9,990+

♛ warnings for this chapter : explicit language, usage of alcohol (legal)

♛ (please read) author’s note: This chapter basically goes back in time to the day in which Y/N finds out about her mother, but instead we now get a glimpse of tae’s life so there is not much y/n in this chapter !! Just to let y’all know so you don’t get confused :)

♛ summary: In desperate need of money, you and your best friend come up with a plan to infiltrate one of Seoul’s richest families, the Kim family. The plan was simple, garner some money and disappear, but of course things don’t always go as planned. Especially not with someone like Kim Taehyung.

━ ❝ Whoever said money can't solve your problems, must not have had enough money to solve 'em.❞

♛ chapter index/masterlist || series masterlist

Chapters⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08

Friday Morning.

“In today’s news, the Kim family’s multibillion dollar deal has been officially confirmed. Their partnership with Hyundai is estimated to bring in at least seven billion in revenue to Korea’s economy over the next 5 years. Both parties have agreed to terms that will lift…”

Kim Taehyung stared at the coffee shop’s mounted TV as he waited in line to order, feeling as if it was already too early to be stressed out. The weary feeling of 4 hours of sleep was beginning to manifest itself, irritation slowly beginning to take its form. Honestly, it was a feeling he found himself feeling quite often these days. In a few years, the responsibility of a billion dollar empire would be under his hands, something he wasn’t exactly looking forward to. The images of his dad shaking hands with Hyundai’s CEO appearing on the TV, the man was basically hailed a hero. Taehyung’s eyes narrowed at the sight.

One could say his relationship with his father was not only distant but … complicated. As Taehyung grew up watching his dad’s empire become almost unstoppable, it also meant that he was always away from home. Though for the most part, Taehyung didn’t mind. His mother was everything a child could ask for, compassionate, hard-working, and never failing to provide her almost endless unconditional love for the young boy.

When he was younger though, his father seemed like an unattainable hero, an inspiration, and at some point it was a relationship he longed for. He often felt guilty whenever he’d hear kids in his school mention not having a father figure in their lives, either due to tragedy or other unspecified reasons. He was lucky enough to have his father in his life … so then why didn’t it ever feel like it ? Not like he had a right to complain.

Without his father he wouldn’t have grown up in the world of luxuries as he was fortunately able to. You see, there was a reason why Kim Enterprises was plastered all over Seoul (if not all of Korea), and that was because they were the IT company. A multi-conglomerate holding company who owned stakes in almost every major company from South Korea that you could possibly think of. Their rise in power was truly undeniable.

The company had been founded just a couple of years before Taehyung had been born, originally starting off as an insurance company which had done small investments in prospect companies, slowly rising in their investment and stakeholder shares. At least that was the story Taehyung’s father told him growing up, never failing to remind him that he came from nothing, and for that reason Taehyung should be nothing but grateful, stating that because of him he’d never know what it was like to feel the stigma of being poor in his own home and the powerlessness that comes with it. And you see Taehyung had absolutely no problem with that because well… it was true, and there was no denying that. What bothered him though, was that those speeches never seemed to come out of a place of genuinity, but one of animosity. As if to remind Taehyung that without his father he was, is, and would’ve been nothing.

To a certain extent he respected his father, but he didn’t love him. There was no genuine relationship there, and he knows it may sound horrible to say, but Taehyung most definitely had his reasons. But some things were just simply better left unsaid.

“Hello? Next in line,” a voice (an annoyed one at that) interrupted his thoughts, as he failed to realize that the cashier had been calling out for him for who knows how long. Though he didn’t take her harsh attitude to heart, if anything sympathizing with her and what he assumed was a stressful job, and it wasn’t like he was making it any easier by being a slow-poke.

“Welcome to Seoul’s Magnificent Mocha, what can I get for you this morning?” she asked once he had made his way up front to the cashier counter. Taking off his sunglasses, he couldn’t but want to laugh at how quick her facial expression had changed. It was the face that people made when they recognized him. It was amazing what a simple baseball cap and some shades could do, he hadn’t even worn his black face mask this time. “Y-You—” she began to stutter her words, instead slowly pointing at the TV. He gave her a small smile along with a small nod as a way of confirming what she was trying to say.

“That would be me,” he smiled, “Can I get an iced Americano and um a,” he paused trying to remember what Namjoon had wanted, “strawberry iced tea. Both medium please,” he finished off the order clearly sounding very uncertain.

“It’s g-going to b-be um,” the poor girl was so nervous she couldn’t even tell him his total without stuttering, “15,000 Won,” He proceeded in handing her a 50,000 note.

“You can keep the change,” he winked at her before putting his sunglasses back on and politely dismissing himself towards the waiting area, quietly laughing at how quickly she facepalmed herself when he was out of her line of sight.

Taehyung always did have a special charm on people, plus he was good looking, and he knew it. He didn’t have any special talents, nothing he could actually proudly boast about. It would be dense of him not to acknowledge that the only reason he was so famous was because of both his status and looks.

There were many people who swooned over him such as the cashier, but there were also many who believed he was still the same old spoiled brat who was nothing but a troublemaker from four years ago. It didn’t help that gossip blogs were still using the same clips from years ago when he really was nothing but a troublemaker who liked flashing his expensive cars for the paparazzi, and purposely kept a high profile. He had been naive, nothing but an eighteen year old teenager who thought fame was better than anything else in the entire world. Four years later, now at the age of twenty-two, and he had long learned that fame was horrible. But he had changed and that’s all that mattered, right? A complete 180, if you will.

Those people didn’t know him, so what made them think they had the right to judge him? To act as if they’d do things any better if they were in his position. The only Kim Taehyung they ever knew was the one they’d seen through a screen. He remembered the first time his name had made its way on the headline of gossip blogs and the comments that came with it.

[Kim Taehyung, son of Kim Jeong  spotted out having a wild night out in Hongdae. Pictures leaked from last night with some steamy footage. Click here for more.]  

[+3,623,  -59] he better pray he doesn’t catch any STD’s while he’s at it ㅋㅋㅋ wouldn’t be surprised if he already has some

[+3,100, -100] i feel bad for his dad, he expects someone like this to run the fortune he’s worked so hard for??? he’s so young as well…

[+2,547, -57] leave him alone and respect his privacy

[+2,100, -23] ah he’s so cute!! whoever was dancing with him is one lucky lady!

[+1,022, -34] a brat like that doesn’t deserve the things he has

That night had only been the beginning to years of nothing but front covering gossip magazines and having his privacy invaded on a daily basis. People became invested in what he was doing with his personal life, his friends, who he was seeing, what he was wearing, and anything else you could possibly think of. He often wondered why, but he assumed it was the same reason as to why people continue to give someone like Kim Kardashian attention despite claiming to hate her. Because people want a glimpse of a world that isn’t their own, simply fascinated by the rich. That and their obsession for scandal only adds fuel to the fire.

With fame came pressure though, pressure to uphold an image for the family company, one his father fairly cared about these days. Hell, nowadays his dad gave him more attention than he ever did as a child, all because he knew that Taehyung was and is the future for Kim Enterprises. It was his father’s pressure that led to his current relationship with— ah speak of the devil.

[From: Sunhi]

[9:10AM] I know you see my texts.

[9:11AM] why are you ignoring me???

[9:12AM] hello???

“Taehyung! Your Iced Americano and strawberry iced tea is ready!” Taehyung rolled his eyes as he glanced through the several number of text messages, instead locking his phone and going up to grab the drinks.

Sunhi was the granddaughter of Hyundai’s CEO and had long been in the picture as early as Taehyung could remember. The two went to the same middle and high school, a one sided crush on her side forming at some point. It wasn’t until about a year ago after returning, that his father had basically forced him to take her out on a date citing that it was in his words, “good for business”. And well today the “good for business” approach had its results, the confirmation of a multibillion dollar deal.

The media loved the two together, hell, they were even labelled as Seoul's next generation’s power couple. Their names amassing a fortune worth billions behind them, their good looks garnering both of them ambassador deals, all in the meanwhile social media was the backbone of the phenomenon that was their so called “relationship”. Not that Taehyung considered it much of one, in his opinion it had stopped being an actual relationship a long time ago.

It wasn’t that Taehyung hated Sunhi, in fact in the beginning of their relationship he was smitten for her, but it wasn’t long until the spark burned out. “Wasn’t long” meaning a couple of weeks in and she actually turned out to be the real definition of a brat, the actual real-life manifestation of Blair Waldorf. Constant up and downs with her had quickly worn him out, and the constant badgering from the media only made things worse. But that doesn't mean he hated her, in order for him to hate her he’d actually have to care about her, and well in all honesty…  he didn’t.

Sometimes he’d ask himself why he was still with her considering the deal had long been confirmed even before today. Taehyung had been free to do what he’d like for a long time, meaning there had never been a need for him to have kept this going for so long, he just did. One must ask, why?

Maybe it was because he knew she was the safest option, the person everyone expected and wanted him to be with. Breaking up with her right now would only further his stress, something he definitely didn’t need more of. Plus she knew him from the surface, and he knew her from the surface, and maybe that was just enough. He didn’t need, or want, anything more than that from her or anyone else for that matter. Sunhi was just enough.

It wasn’t like she was using him for anything, especially considering she already has everything. But by being with her, he was satisfying others, he was becoming the person everyone wanted him to be, the person he always should’ve been.

Hell, who knows, maybe he could truly fall in love with her one day … though in the back of his mind he knew the answer to that.

“Took you long enough,” Namjoon complained as he turned on the ignition of the car. He glanced at the drinks in Taehyung's hands, dramatically sighing at the sight, “and you somehow still ended up ordering the wrong drink for me,” he sighed, grabbing the drink from Taehyung’s hands nonetheless.

“My bad, I had forgotten in the moment…” he shot an apologetic smile towards his newly dyed platinum-haired friend.

Namjoon was the son of another one of Seoul’s elite, but also Taehyung’s right hand man. The two had met during their freshman year of high school, but funnily enough the two originally hated one another. Now looking back at it, Taehyung could admit that the two had acted extremely childish over a girl who’d end up picking neither of them, but that was a story to tell for another day.

Luckily Namjoon seemed to enjoy the drink, no longer complaining about it during the ride to Lotte World Mall. The two needed to go buy some new suits for tonight's event in celebration of the brand new deal between Kim Enterprises and Hyundai. The paparazzi were definitely going to be there and with all eyes on him, Taehyung decided that he might as well look good.

Friday Evening.

By the time Taehyung had returned to his place, he was both drained and exhausted, the idea of taking a nap and ditching the event seeming all too tempting. Namjoon this morning had felt the need to visit almost every high end store he could think of and try on the most useless things including scarves, gloves, and a whole bunch of other things. Basically going back and forth all across the mall whenever he’d regret not buying something.

He carried his bags upstairs to his room, ready to plop onto his bed and take a well deserved nap, but of course as always the universe seemed to work against him.

“I’ve been waiting for you!” he silently cursed to himself, asking himself why he thought it was a good idea to give Sunhi access to his penthouse. “Of course you went shopping without me, and to think I wanted to color coordinate,” she puckered her lips attempting to give him a small kiss on the lips, but before she could Taehyung had turned his cheek causing her to almost entirely miss.

She quickly composed herself acting as if that didn’t just happen, instead beginning to rummage through his bags, complimenting the things he chose while he just laid in bed slowly taking in deep breaths trying not to snap at her for coming unannounced. “So what exactly is that you came here for Sunhi…” he mumbled, failing to hide his annoyance.

She pouted, “Well you weren’t answering my texts, and I wanted to know whether you’d be going tonight…” she began to give him small pecks on his face, hoping that he’d show some kind of affection.

“I am, I am. I’m just really tired right now and in desperate need of a nap,” he responded, ignoring her obvious attempts to initiate things. His eyelids were half way closed, clearly ready to knock out at any second.

“Oh well I’ll just stay—”

“No, no. Just go back home, get ready, and I’ll see you over there okay?” his voice was much harsher this time, turning to face the other direction of his bed which was no longer facing her, a cold gesture on his part.

Sunhi sat there for a moment, feeling a mixture of both anger and disappointment. She wanted to say something, but instead crossed her arms, and let out a huff of air in response. Taking one last look at him before getting up from his bed and walking herself out. The same old feeling of being unwanted creeping into her mind, a feeling she knew all too well.

Friday Night.

By the time he had arrived, Taehyung thought that the paparazzi would’ve grown impatient waiting for him and end up leaving, but as per usual he was completely wrong. If anything, him being late had only caused them to triple in numbers. Those men really had no shame, their camera flashes penetrating through the Mercedes Benz’s tinted windows.

“You let me know when you’re ready Mr. Kim,” his security guard said. Taehyung took a deep breath, fixing his YSL brooch before nodding to him, letting him know that he was ready. He was quickly greeted with a stammering number of questions.

“Where’s Sunhi?”

“Over here! Over here!”

“How’s your night been?”

Taehyung tried to not make any faces, knowing that even the slightest lift of the brow would be taken out of context, and that by tomorrow morning there’d be a whole bunch of rumors trending on Twitter. The only thing was that the paparazzi always knew how to push his buttons whether it was shouting something rude, roughly grabbing at him, and etc. 

At this point he just needed a drink to relax and take his mind off of these low life men who had nothing else better to do than to try and make a quick buck off his name.

“Finally! Took you long enough,” he heard, quickly spotting Namjoon the moment he entered the venue, wondering if he had been waiting up front for him the whole time.

“You didn’t have to wait for me you know? And plus it’s not my fault you had me running circles around the mall,” Taehyung said causing Namjoon to scoff in response, “Has he given his speech?” the “he” Taehyung was referring to was his father.

“I honestly don’t know,” Namjoon shrugged, who like Taehyung, never did like these kinds of events as they always had him wanting to knock out halfway through, the only thing he really did appreciate was the food they served. 

The two walked towards the bar which caught their attention much more than the cathedral-inspired venue, deciding that a drink was necessary to kick the night off right.

“Two gin and tonics please,” the bartender nodded, beginning to prepare their drinks. Taehyung watched the bartender pour gin into his jigger, curious as to how someone could memorize the recipes for so many drinks. “How many years does it take for one to learn the ways of bartending?” he asked the brown-haired man, an attempt to strike conversation.

“Ah well a simple gin and tonic is something every bartender should know like it’s the back of their hand,” the man chuckled, “but if you’re talking about something like hmm,” he paused for a moment, “something like a bloody mary perhaps.”

A bloody mary? Isn’t that just vodka with some tomato juice?

“It’s much more than that,” the bartender laughed at Taehyung who was slightly taken aback, not realizing that he must’ve said what he was thinking aloud. “Though those are the two the main ingredients, it includes salt, pepper, hot sauce, garlic, herbs,” Taehyung was now genuinely curious as to where the bartender was going with this, “It covers the entire range of the human palate from sweet, salty, sour, unami, and savory but you have to make sure it doesn’t taste bitter.”

He continued talking as he poured the tonic water onto the frosted drinking glasses, “A little too much of one ingredient or a little too less and the whole drink goes to waste. You have to find a balance,” he emphasized the last part, almost as if this went beyond drinks, “Someone who wants a bloody mary is someone who definitely knows what they’re looking for,” he concludes his sermon-like speech, intensely staring at Taehyung. Namjoon looked at the man like he was crazy, who the hell overanalyzes a drink to this extent? Taehyung on the other had a look of fascination on his face, instead returning the stare.

“Well … cheers!,” Namjoon breaks the tense silence by raising his drink, momentarily being left hung dry until soon enough Taehyung lifted his drink up as well, the two of them clinking their glasses before chugging the bittersweet drink down their throats.

“Ah there he is!” Taehyung turned around, watching as his father made his way towards him, right alongside Sunhi’s parents. The two gave each other an awkward hug, “You better have a good damn reason for being so late,” his father harshly whispered into his ear before pulling back, the famous fake grin that Taehyung had grown to hate still plastered onto his face. The man was an expert at saving face, like father like son.  

Taehyung remained silent instead politely greeting Sunhi’s parents before watching the trio as they made their way to greet other guests.

“I’m going to need a second drink,” he exasperated, causing Namjoon to let out a laugh. The bartender nodded, immediately beginning to prepare their drinks.

“I’m surprised Sunhi hasn’t gotten her claws on you yet, I could’ve sworn she was here earlier,” Namjoon mentioned causing Taehyung to shrug, his expression now dulled at the mention of her.

“I feel bad, I sorta snapped at her earlier, but she kept on nagging me, wouldn’t let me sleep in peace. I blame you,” he said, commenting on the situation earlier.

“Hey I’m not the one whose forcing you to be with her,” Namjoon remarked, causing Taehyung to shoot him a glare, his eyebrows now furrowed.

Instead he changed the topic, accustomed to Namjoon’s dismay of the relationship, “I just want to go home and sleep,” Taehyung yawned, the event was boring him more and more by the minute.

“Same he—” Namjoon suddenly stopped mid sentence, something more “important” now having caught his eye.

“You’re practically drooling, you do realize that right?” Taehyung deadpanned, glancing at the girl who had caught his friend’s eye. She was pretty, he wasn’t going to lie, but she seemed like someone who was quite stuck up to be honest. But he assumed that about everyone around here as it takes one to know one. “So are you going to just stand here and stare like a creep or …”

“You don’t mind me leaving you here?” Namjoon’s voice sounded a little too excited. Taehyung shrugged his shoulders, he wasn’t the type of person who couldn’t stand being alone. In fact, he enjoyed his own company sometimes, he had actually read somewhere that it was quite important for one’s own mental health.

“I think I need to go find Sunhi either way, or else she’ll be nagging me the whole night as to why I didn’t find her sooner, that and apologize for earlier,” Namjoon nodded, lightly patting on his shoulder before making his way to the woman who had caught his eye, trying his best not to gawk so much.

“Now where could she be…” Taehyung mumbled to himself, having now left the bar and instead walking around the venue, making a half-assed attempt at looking for his girlfriend.

Taehyung could feel his legs swaying left to right, the lack of balance he had was probably laughable to anyone who wasn’t him. He wasn’t drunk, at least that’s what he was telling himself. The way the world was spinning told him otherwise. In all honesty he had only asked for a couple more drinks after the second one, but nonetheless he always was a lightweight drinker to begin with. His bladder felt as if it was going to burst at any moment so instead of Sunhi being his top priority, going to the restroom now was.

He looked around, the signs on the doors now looking slightly blurry. He grabbed the handle to what looked like could be the men’s restroom harshly pushing the door open.

Everything happens for a reason… right?

“Oh my God, It’s not what it looks like,” Because what were the chances that he caught her right in the act, with none other than Jeon Jungkook.

Taehyung had seen this situation play out in so many movies and TV shows, whereas the boyfriend usually destroys everything in his way and immediately begins to throw punches at the lover, and yada yada yada. But for some odd reason all Taehyung could do was stand there and watch as she hurriedly tried placing her bra back on.

He couldn’t help but actually want to … laugh. Really, because what were the chances? What were the chances that instead of walking into what he thought was a restroom, he instead walked in on his girlfriend and Seoul’s biggest man-whore about to fuck in a janitor’s closet.

He glanced at Jungkook who had nothing but a giant smirk plastered on his face, not even bothering to put his shirt back on.

Taehyung gathered his thoughts… What was he supposed to do again?  

Nothing. There was absolutely nothing left for Kim Taehyung to do, but to turn around and walk away. And so that’s what he did, drowning out her pleads for him to stay, a small smile gracing his lips. He was finally free.  

Namjoon must’ve left early because once Taehyung had returned back to the bar, he was nowhere to be found. He decided it was just best to leave before Sunhi could find him and start begging him to hear her out. After texting his security guard to meet him out front, he asked for a bottle of water and attempted at fully sobering up before he’d have to face several rapidly flashing lights in his face.

Did it end up actually helping? Fuck no. God, why did they have to park his Mercedes so far away. It was as if no matter how many steps he felt like he was taking, he was no closer to where he wanted to be.

“Smile for the camera man, come on!” The rapid flashes of light caused Taehyung to stumble his footsteps worse than before, the responses he gave to the multiple questions being thrown at him coming out more like mumbles and slurs. He knew that deep inside his brain was sending him signals on what to do, whether his body was listening was another story.

“Watch where you’re going man! Momma’s boy can’t handle his liq—” one of the paparazzo shouted at him while grabbing at his arm, and maybe it had been cause he was drunk, maybe because he was simply just tired, but in an instant Taehyung had felt his fist collide with the man’s face throwing everyone and everything into a frenzy. The questions and comments now coming out of their mouths at a lightning speed, some were cursing him out, others were pretending to praise him at an attempt to get him to say something, but none of it mattered because by the time he got into the car it was too late to take any of it back, and soon enough everything had gone black.

Saturday Evening.

The hangover the next day was literal hell, Taehyung felt as if the inner surface of his skull was practically being thrashed upon, his eyesight struggling to cope with the rays of daylight that directly shone on his eyes. Not only that, but his mouth had felt so dry, however having to get up for water seemed like so much work to do considering how much his back was aching.

It was like the flu except it had been self-inflicted. He attempted to raise his heavy eyelids all in one go, just for them to immediately fall shut. He could feel the constant vibrating notifications from his phone, choosing to ignore it altogether as he figured it was probably Sunhi sending him several text messages. Even if it wasn’t her, he was too lazy to even stretch his arm out and disconnect his phone. Maybe he could sleep it off, he thought to himself, curling himself back under his thick duvet.

How was it that he was barely 22 and already facing the repercussions of intense hangovers when just a couple of years ago he could drink all night long and wake up the next day hangover free. It was as if with each passing year it just got worse, no wonder so many older folks didn’t get drunk anymore, they had learnt it the hard way.

And just as he was about to fall asleep, of course his stomach had to both lurch and gurgle like some kind of trapped animal. He groaned, swinging his feet around in bed like a kid who had just been told “no”. Sadly, he was going to have to force himself to get up and so he did.

Once on his feet, he immediately felt the room sway almost causing him to lose balance until he managed to grab onto his bedstead in order to keep himself standing. He yawned and stretched out his entire body, lowkey loving the sound of his bones cracking. Time to start a new day.

After brushing up, he began to prepare himself something quick to eat fearing that his stomach was going to lash out on him any moment and so he decided to make some scrambled eggs. Quick and easy. Right?

Wrong.

The rare occasions that Taehyung did cook were always 50/50, as in there was half a chance whatever he cooked would come out either decent or completely under/over cooked. The boy practically lived off of takeout, restaurants, and microwaveable food, but at this current moment he needed food and quickly at that. Today his eggs had come out slightly undercooked with some of the yolk still a little slimy, but it was edible nonetheless.

As he ate he was genuinely surprised at the fact that Sunhi didn’t ambush his home this morning, causing him to set a reminder on his phone to remove her fingerprint off of his security system as soon as possible. He scrolled through her long thread of texts that consisted of her going back and forth between apologizing, begging, and guilt tripping him, only causing him to roll his eyes and sigh.

[Incoming Facetime from: Namjoon 🐨]

Taehyung quirked his brow before clicking “accept”.

“Weren’t you the one who scolded me about facetiming without sending a warning text,” he laughed, it wasn’t like he was lying.

“Ah I know, I know, but I felt sorta bad for just leaving last night without saying goodbye, but a man has his needs,” Namjoon now sported a giant grin on his face, probably recalling last night’s events, “and well I thought you’d be in bed hungover, in need of a wake up call,” he joked only causing Taehyung to flash him the middle finger through the screen.

“Well I’m up,” Taehyung wondered if Namjoon knew, maybe Sunhi had told him or something. He quickly scratched the idea as he knew Sunhi was the type of person to try and keep everything under wraps … but Jeon Jungkook was not.

Jeon Jungkook.

Remember the small mention of Namjoon and Taehyung fighting over the affections of a girl only for her to end up choosing someone else. That someone else was none other than Jeon Jungkook, one of Upper Seoul’s biggest man-whores, if not the biggest man whore. If Sunhi was actually someone Taehyung loved, he probably would’ve punched that stupid smirk off of Jungkook’s face last night, but luckily he didn’t have to. Did Jungkook have it out for Taehyung? It was unclear to be honest. This definitely wasn’t the first time Jungkook has attempted at sabotaging him despite Taehyung clearly showing he could care less.

In fact the two before yesterday’s incident had actually been mutual acquaintances being in the same “circle” and all. That circle being the sons of the multi million/billionares of Seoul which included names such as Kim Seokjin and Park Jimin. Namjoon in particular was good friends with Seokjin, who in return was very close with Jungkook. Seokjin and Namjoon both being the “neutral” bridge between the two. So Taehyung wasn’t going to be surprised if Seokjin had in fact informed Namjoon of yesterday’s dilemma. It had been Seokjin who told Namjoon of Jungkook’s actions of the past such as leaking Taehyung’s location to paparazzi on a number of occasions, stealing brand deals under Taehyung’s nose, and many other things.

“So…”

“I know that you know,” Taehyung chuckled out, causing Namjoon to let out a sigh of relief.

“Oh great, I was really not looking forward to beating around the bush and forcing it out of you,” he laughed, “well it looks like you got what you wanted.”

Taehyung’s nose crinkled in confusion, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on!—” Namjoon’s mouth curved into his famous dimpled smile, obviously trying (but failing) to repress his laugh, “Don’t act like you’re not the happiest man on Earth right now! You’ve probably been praying for something like this to happen for forever,” Taehyung’s face went sour, “You’ve needed an excuse to break up with Sunhi without you ending up being the bad guy for so long, and that’s why you probably haven’t even shedded a single tear since you found out,” he insisted causing Taehyung to let out a bitter scoff , mumbling a silent “That’s not true.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night Tae—” suddenly the sound of something abruptly falling grabbed Namjoon’s attention, “Moni! Put that down! Uh I gotta go, just text me later alright,” and with that he clicked, presumably to deal with his white feisty Eskimo.

Taehyung glanced at the clock which read 3:25PM, a small nap wouldn’t hurt right?

Sunday Morning.

So much for a “small nap”. Despite him having slept the whole Saturday off, Taehyung had woken up very early and in a good mood, ready to have himself a productive day.

He made himself breakfast that even a 5 year old could make: avocado toast with different slices of fruit and a simple protein shake. While letting his breakfast settle down in his stomach, he began to do his pre-workout stretch, with his goal in mind for today’s run being at least 6 miles.

After he was done stretching, he went down to the lobby making sure to politely greet his “neighbors”. They were the same people who kept tabs on him and sold him out to the press every chance they got, but not like he could lash out on them so instead he was forced to give them fake smiles along with stiff waves.

During his morning run, Taehyung took into appreciation of the crisp morning air which was both cold and dry. The view of the river brought him a sense of relaxation and before he knew it, he was done with his workout.

“What a beautiful day,” he had thought to himself as he walked back to his penthouse’s building, ready to take a much needed shower, but of course he should’ve known she was going to ambush him at some point because there she was, sitting in the building’s lobby.

Once she spotted him she immediately got up from the couch. He tried to quickly outpace her and get into the elevator, but she yanked on his hand preventing him from going any further.

“Stop avoiding me… please,” she sounded distraught which confused him. She certainly didn’t look distraught when she was getting her neck sucked on by Jungkook.

“Can we do this,” he pushed her hand off, “some other time. You’re gonna make a scene,” he scolded her. The two of them were in the middle of the lobby, and even though there seemed to be no one around, he could never be too sure.

“No because it seems this is the only way I could get your attention,” she muttered , “especially considering you removed my access,” causing him to let out a stifled laugh.

“Well that’s what someone does when they’re significant other hmm I don’t know cheats on them,” his voice emphasized the last words.

“I didn’t,” she quickly lowered her voice once she realized she had shouted that part out, “cheat on you,” she mumbled. “I was about to, but I didn’t,” she dramatically waved her finger at him.

“Yeah because I walked in on you?” he wondered if she knew how stupid she sounded.

“Well maybe if you showed me some affection every once in a while I wouldn’t have resorted to such acts!” What the two hadn't realized was that there was someone in the lobby quietly hiding behind a pillar, secretly recording the interaction between the two.

“Sunhi,” he ran his hand through his hair, letting out an exasperated sigh, “can you just leave me alone? There is no fixing this, especially since this,” he made a motion with his fingers pointing to the both of them, “has been broken for a very long time.” And with the final word, he turned around and walked away, not bothering to look at her face which had now fallen from expression.

Sunday Night.

“Kim Taehyung NASTY fight with girlfriend Sunhi. Click here for more.” was what the Twitter article headlined their argument, and of course the link provided the video of the whole thing.

[From: Namjoon 🐨]

[10:10] you really can be an ass [link to video]

[To: Namjoon 🐨]

[10:11] how!!

[10:11] i just told her the truth, at the end of the day no one can tell me that I was in the wrong 🤷🏻‍♂️

[From: Namjoon 🐨]

[10:12] you’d be surprised with what knetz have to say…

[10:13] them and the media are going crazy over you unfollowing her

Taehyung scoffed while unplugging his phone and rolling to the other side of bed now that his phone was at 100%.

[To: Namjoon 🐨]

[10:14] yea well idc.

[From: Namjoon 🐨]

[10:15] well at least ur out the relationship, that’s all that matters right 😬

[10:16] looks like ur back on the market … we all know how crazy that can get

Taehyung could feel himself become stiff at the last text. What was that supposed to mean? Maybe he was overthinking it too much…  

He was a different person now, he reassured himself. Before he could dwell on it any further he decided that it was best to just go to sleep.

Monday Afternoon.

The next day Taehyung continued with his routine of making a somewhat decent breakfast, and running his daily number of miles, crossing his fingers that he wouldn’t be ambushed like the morning prior. Luckily he wasn’t.

The sensation of steamy water hitting his body was calming to him, the shower was very much needed. Trying not to get so lost in his thoughts, he began to sing the random songs that first came to mind. He’d been told by Namjoon on multiple occasions that his singing was good, but Taehyung at this current moment was just glad he lived alone. Namjoon, or anyone for that matter, would probably make fun of him for the song he was um … rapping.

“Ain't got enough money to pay me respect. Ain't no budget when I'm on the set. If I like it, then that's what I get!” his sudden motions almost made him slip, but luckily he had caught himself just in time, “yeah,” he finished off the lyric despite his near death experience.

It was once he got out the shower that he was in for a surprise.

“7 Rings… really?” Taehyung’s towel almost fell from his waist because of his jump in surprise. Thankfully he had held onto it before it could completely fall. “I didn’t take you to be such an Ariana Grande fan,” Taehyung rolled his eyes to the teasing Namjoon.

“It’s the song of the summer for your information,” he interjected, “And how the hell did you even get up here?”

“Hmm I don’t know maybe because you practically forced me to get my fingerprint and memorize your code so that I would,” Namjoon mimicked quote signs with his fingers, “stop bugging you when I could open the door myself,” causing Taehyung’s stern face to quickly become one of dumbfoundeness.

“Oh…”

“I’ll be in the kitchen making myself some food,” he playfully sighed before making his way out of Taehyung’s room.

Taehyung quickly lotioned his body, put on his overnight hair products, and threw on a baggy sweater along with some black sweatpants, assuming that Namjoon hopefully wasn’t going to try and drag him to go outside. He had a long week ahead of him which included photoshoots, interviews, meetings, and overall promotion for this brand new deal considering he currently served as the “face” to his family’s business.

“Wow making japchae, who put you in a good mood?” Taehyung laughed as he peeped over Namjoon’s shoulder, catching a whiff of the food he was making causing Namjoon to flash his dimpled smile at him.

“Well I have a date in a couple of weeks and so I’ve been practicing every chance I get,” he admitted catching Taehyung by surprise, “and before you ask, yes it’s the girl from the event on Friday.”

Taehyung tried to subdue his shock, “If I’m being honest I thought she was kind of a…” he contemplated his next choice of words, “um…”

“A one night stand,” Namjoon completed the sentence, a look of understanding on his face. “Well if I’m being honest I thought the same thing,” he cheeks reddened, “but she actually ended up being really sweet, and well I really li—”

“Okay I think I’m done hearing your little sap story that you haven’t even started,” he pretends to yawn, causing Namjoon to flash his middle finger at him which only makes him laugh, “Sorry I’m not a hopeless romantic like you.”

Namjoon scoffed as he stirred the noodles around, “So what? Deep down you know you’re one as well.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, I’ve heard it all before. Why are you here again?” Namjoon flashed his middle finger again now causing Taehyung to laugh even harder than the first time.

“You sure know how to be rude sometimes,” Namjoon was now serving the japchae onto some plates, “and I’m here because one, I was bored, and two, because I was wondering if you were going to Thursday’s brunch,” the look on Taehyung’s face gave Namjoon the answer he was looking for.

“I completely forgot about that…”

“Why am I not surprised,” Namjoon sighed while giving Taehyung his plate of food.  

“It’s always the same old place, same old routine, and most importantly the same old people,” he made sure to emphasize that last part, “you’re telling me you don’t get bored?”

“I do, but look what happened last time, I met someone new!” Namjoon bragged, only resulting in Taehyung rolling his eyes once again. “You’re like the grinch, but for love I swear,” Namjoon groaned, mentally taking note that the pleasant look on Taehyung’s face meant he had done a good job at making japchae. As long as he followed the exact amount of ingredients and steps as he did today then his date would go along just fine.

Taehyung slurped the final remaining bits of food on his plate before responding to Namjoon, “I’m fresh out of a relationship Joon, let me enjoy being single for the time being.”

“In the media’s eyes you’re fresh out of a relationship, but you and I both know that you’ve been single for a very long time,” Taehyung stayed silent at Namjoon’s words, a sudden pang of guilt now hitting him as he recalled what he had told Sunhi in the lobby that past Saturday. Did Taehyung see Namjoon’s point? Yes, of course he did. Did it feel good hearing it? No, it didn’t.

“Well um guess what, she cheated on me. I remained faithful, which honestly,” he scoffed in between his words, “was the least I could do. So stop trying to paint me as some big villain,” he sneered.

“All I’m saying is that the Taehyung I know would have never even gotten into that relationship to begin with,” Namjoon silently muttered to himself, a dismissive look on his face, causing Taehyung to let out a sardonic laugh. As if Namjoon was a better person than he was?

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” he snapped, “You know I’m getting real tired of your little sly comments, as if i’m not going to catch on at some point, if you have something to say then grow some balls and say it,” Taehyung's voice echoed across the kitchen walls. Taehyung’s heart was practically pounding out of his chest, his jaw now completely clenched, glaring at Namjoon. The light atmosphere in the room had become stiff in the blink of an eye.

One would think that Namjoon would be shocked, maybe even angry at Taehyung’s outburst, but all he did was stare back, seeming completely unfazed, a pot that had been bubbling for quite some time between the two finally bubbling over. Withheld opinions, finally lashed out, “I’ll just never understand why you couldn’t break up with her from the moment your dad didn’t need you to date her anymore, or why you even got with her in the first place. All you did was waste her time and let her convince herself that she was in love with you knowing damn well you’ve never felt anything from day one. I mean even now she thinks there’s something worth saving,” he cursed, his voice now elevated up several notches, “And it’s the fact that you see nothing wrong with it that makes me sick!”

Taehyung’s face immediately fell, hurt by his friend’s words, but it didn’t stop Namjoon from continuing on, “I mean the Taehyung I knew would’ve never in a million years agreed to do something like this for anyone,” disappointment evident in his voice, “let alone for your dad,” he spat. “It just,” he pauses, “It just isn’t like you Taehyung. None of this is.”

Taehyung could feel his tough demeanor crumble, “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, so stop acting like you do,” he scowled.

“It’s just funny to me, years ago you’d talk about becoming nothing like your dad, but nowadays it looks like I’m looking at his clone,” Namjoon muttered, “You’ve changed Taehyung. You may joke around with me here and there, but I can tell you’re always holding back. You leave for a whole year to God knows where, and come back a completely different person, acting like your dad’s very own fucking puppet. You’ve closed yourself off. Like, like you’re mad at the world or something, or I don’t know—”

“And what, you want the old reckless Taehyung back?! The one who destroyed everything in his fucking path! Is that what the fuck you want?” his voice boomed, but even Namjoon could see it was merely a facade, the mixture of both guilt and sadness seeping through the cracks of his voice.

“Of course not! But the Taehyung standing in front of me is no better than the one before. You may not be as reckless as you used to be, but you’re definitely just as careless,” Namjoon condemned him, “And so then I think about everything and all I could ask myself is why? Why don’t you find something or someone, you genuinely love, something that makes you happy, not your dad, not the media, YOU.”

“Because I just don’t want to Joon…”  Taehyung looked away, ashamed to make eye contact, his voice had now become a mere whisper.

“And all I can think about is if it has something to do with —” Namjoon could see Taehyung physically tense up, “Taehyung what the hell happened that night?” he pleaded desperately.

“Just don’t Joon,” and with that Namjoon knew that even he was pushing the boundaries, deciding that it was best to just keep quiet, “I came back didn’t I? ” he harshly spat.

There was a pregnant pause, “I’m sorry,” Namjoon apologized, but was only met with silence. Taehyung got up from the kitchen chair, and placed his dish into the sink, harshly passing by Namjoon.

“Make sure you lock the door on your way out,” he muttered, before making his way upstairs into his room, leaving Namjoon standing in the kitchen by himself.

Monday Night.

And so that night, Taehyung stared up at his ceiling thinking about what Namjoon had told him. He was hurt by his friend’s words, but he couldn’t deny that he didn’t understand where he was coming from …

But it wasn’t like Taehyung was a cold hearted person, or at least he’d like to think he wasn’t. Behind it all, he was still the same kind and polite person he’d always been. He was just more mature nowadays, finally growing up like he should’ve years ago. It was simply for the best.

So then why did he feel so wrong?

He felt conflicted, he felt guilt, but honestly he had been feeling guilty long before he got into a relationship with Sunhi. Maybe it was that same guilt he’s felt eating him alive for the past several years that’s made him close himself off to others. It was the same guilt that led to disappearing one night and not coming back until about a year later.

Feeling overwhelmed, he decided to get up from bed, and stepped onto his balcony just wanting to just look at the stars before going to bed. Tonight they had seemed to be shining extra bright, he attempted at counting each one, losing count mid way. 

He couldn’t help but reminisce about his childhood, when he and his mom would go camping at Noeul Campground at least once a year, and oh how the stars would shine like never before. The two of them making a game of who could come up with the best figurines using the stars. It was nights like these that he truly did miss her, but he knew she was watching over him. Forever and always.

“I know I haven’t talked to you in a while, I hope you’re not mad. I know it’s no excuse, but time nowadays just goes by so fast and well I’m coming to a point in life where I feel like I have nothing figured out. Like as if I’m not truly satisfied, and not truly well … happy. I just feel lost, Ma. I thought coming back here, I could put the facade that I was fine but,” he lets out a deep breath,”I’m just not. God I wish you were here, you’d know exactly what to say right now,” he could feel the warm droplets of water falling from his face, not bothering to wipe them off. “I’m so sorry Ma,” were his final words before stepping back inside, a peaceful slumber waiting for him in bed.

Thursday Morning.

“Ah now this is what I’ve been looking forward to,” Namjoon grinned as politely grabbed the mimosa from the bartender’s hand. Taehyung made a motion with his hand once Namjoon offered him his cup, instead leaning against the bar watching as guests made their way in and out of the venue.

Taehyung and Namjoon had made up in the days prior, Taehyung sending a “btw the japchae was too sweet 🤭” text message, as a way of telling Namjoon that all was forgiven. Taehyung in return, reflected on Namjoon’s words, deciding that he was right, something needed to change.

“This place, it’s …” Namjoon expected a complaint out of Taehyung’s mouth, “really pretty,” he finished off, genuinely surprising Namjoon.

The venue resembled some kind of greenhouse, the arrangement of dangling flowers and potted plants, along with the rays of natural sunlight peeking through the glass exterior, and the minimalist design in seat arrangement truly was a work of art. The air itself felt crisp and fresh, he assumed it was because of the mixture of the plants’ scent along with the air ventilators.

“Wow, look who's in a good mood,” Namjoon teased him, Taehyung flashing him a small smile. Despite it only being 9 o'clock in the morning, he was glad he came. It was a brand new day, and he felt optimistic that things were going to start looking up for him.

“Ah well, let’s just enjoy it while it lasts,” he responded clearly joking around, “Let’s just say I thought about everything you said, and well I just want to start fresh. No more getting pressured into things, and being so tense about everything all the time, just me going with the flow,” Namjoon quirked his eyebrow, genuinely interested in what Taehyung had to say, “Whatever happens…” he pauses, “happens,” he finishes off, a grin now on his face.

As the brunch event went on, Taehyung continued to observe people, examining what they wore, the way they spoke, how they acted, as it usually told him a lot about a person.

“I’ll take a bloody mary, light on the vodka please,” Taehyung’s ears perked up at what he heard, a bloody mary? This early in the morning? He remembered the bartender’s words from a couple of days ago.

He tried to glance at the figure who was only a couple of feet away from him, sitting in one of the many empty seats aligned at the bar. He tried using his peripheral vision to try and make out a face, but sadly whoever this was, the angle that they were sitting along with their honey colored straw hat helped cover most of their face. The only thing he could see was that whoever it was, was a female and clearly a reckless one as a bloody mary was most likely going to result in an embarrassing stain.

He wondered if she was new around here, the way she was sitting clearly told him that she probably was. You see there were almost unspoken rules in the upper class, methods on doing things, and a high regard for appearance and well her posture wasn’t exactly… the best, and the blatant disregard for the all white dress code made him curious as to who she was. Like there was some kind of pull that made him feel the need to go up to her. She seemed … different.

“And you wanted to come at me for gawking last time! You can’t even see her face from here,” Namjoon’s undeniably loud voice interrupted his train of thought.

“Um any fucking louder and I’m sure the whole place will hear you,” Taehyung face was flushed, hoping the woman didn’t hear. Namjoon raised his hands in defense.

“Hm …” Namjoon stayed silent for a couple of seconds, before a mischievous look appeared on his face, “Hey well since you’re so keen about going with flow,” he mimicked Taehyung’s word’s from earlier, “how about you go get her number and see where things go from there,” he winked. 

Taehyung quickly shook his head, garnering a laugh out of Namjoon. “Since when has Kim Taehyung been too scared to ask for someone’s number,” he teased, “Come on you know you want to, I’ll even go find something else to do just in case she rejects you, I won’t be there to see it.”

He contemplated going up to her, what if she was just another Upper Seoul brat? Worse, what if Namjoon was right and she just completely shrugged him off? No, no one shrugged Kim Taehyung off. Namjoon's grin became wider once he saw Taehyung’s eyebrows furrow, and a determined look appearing on his face.

And so with that he decided he’d go up to her, maybe try and make some small talk. It wouldn't hurt , right? At least he wouldn’t be as bored as he was now. Slowly he made his way over to the seat next to her, trying not to look so much like a creep.

“I’ll take a mimosa please,” he ordered, the bartender nodded, “So you’re not scared of spilling your drink?” Taehyung quickly noticed how tense the woman became from his question, her posture going from relaxed to completely stiff. It wasn’t until she turned to face him that Taehyung felt taken back, his heart now pounding out of his chest, and the feeling of nervousness hitting him like a wave. As cliche as he thought it sounded, she was completely mesmerizing.

“Oh uh well,” she stuttered her words out bringing him a sense of comfort that he wasn’t the only nervous one,“um,” she was looking anywhere but his eyes, “No not really, I tend to be careful with things like this,” she explained now fidgeting with her fingers. 

Maybe it had been bad luck, but a couple of seconds later Taehyung suddenly now had red tomato juice mixed with vodka plastered all over his shirt. “Oh my God! I am so sorry!” she exclaimed. 

Several guests were now staring at the scene in front of them, the unknown girl now had a look of horror on her face, but instead of being upset all Taehyung could do was genuinely laugh. “I really didn’t mean to do that, oh my—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassured her, slowly pushing her hand away which was uselessly blotting his white buttoned up shirt with a napkin.

“No it’s not, I really didn’t mean to do that, I just—” her face was as red as the spilled drink itself, her words coming out completely jumbled almost as if she was talking more to herself than him.

“And I’m telling you it’s okay,” he insisted, “I think you’ve done the most interesting thing around here in a very long time,” he then stuck his hand out, “I’m Taehyung,” he introduces himself, giving her a small smile along the way.

It felt like she was staring at him for an eternity with nothing but a doe-eyed look on her face, and he wondered what was going through her head. Was he really that intimidating? With several thoughts running through his head, the feeling of regret now creeped onto the back of his mind, maybe he shouldn’t have ever come up to her. What was he thinking? This was practically all his fault.

His panic came into a halt once he felt the touch of her hand now moving along with his, “I’m Y/N.”

🧚🏻 a/n: here we goooo! finally kicking things off hehe, things should defiantly move faster from this point on, I just felt like it was important for me to establish both y/n and Taehyung’s personality, background, and all that good stuff before diving into the basis of the whole story. feel free to send me any theories, comments, asks, etc ! I shall update very soon. 

[codynaomiswire]

TTS/RTA Egyptian Mythology AU

Also known as the Uraeus AU!

Several months ago, I made a post about a developing idea for an Egyptian mythology AU for TTS/RTA. The idea was prompted in large part by the snake-hair Varian (“Snakian”) scene from the series’ finale, and the concept of the uraeus in Egyptian mythology. Since first posting about this AU, Xiel and I have really been developing the idea further on the Discord, and here’s what we’ve come up with so far. Hope you all enjoy it!

Note: As a fan AU, this is of course subject to change and variations, so things may change or develop differently as time goes on and more new ideas spring up. This is just what we have in mind so far!  :D

Champions and Friends:

Varian - The kingdom’s seer and champion of Wadjet (aka “the Uraeus”). In this AU, Varian was born to Quirin and Ulla with his “twin brother” Ka - a living uraeus bestowed upon him by the snake goddess Wadjet. (More on Ka and Wadjet down below.) Having grown up with Ka, Varian is not (usually) bothered with having a snake attached to his head, and sees Ka as being like a brother to him. Varian also grew up being told by Quirin and Ulla to keep Ka a secret, as the family was worried Varian and Ka would be taken away from them if anyone knew about them. So for many years, whenever Varian would go outside, he would wear a head covering so Ka would remain hidden from the world. Once he did try to show Ka to some of the kids in his village, but they all ran away screaming, and he got in trouble with the parents for “pulling a mean prank with a snake.” So he and Ka never tried that again. However, things start to get trickier as Varian enters his early teens, and he starts to get visions about events to come, and has a couple episodes of sleepwalking in the middle of the night. Despite Quirin’s best efforts to keep the two safe, things finally come to a head when some kidnappers (led by Andrew) are hired by Set’s cult to capture Varian and Ka, and bring them back to be dealt with. Out of self-defense, Ka ends up landing a venomous bite on Andrew, who nearly dies from the poison. However, Varian has also taken an interest in alchemy by this time in his life, and learned how to create an antivenom for Ka’s bites. (While Varian himself is immune to snake venom due to his connection with Ka and Wadjet, he learned how to make it in case there was ever an accident involving someone else.) Varian manages to make the antivenom in time and save Andrew’s life, but this incident ended up taking place out in the open, and thus Varian and Ka have their cover blown. Quirin tries to prevent Varian and Ka from being taken away, but the next day the pharaoh’s soldiers come and take Varian and Ka to live in the palace, as the priests of Wadjet are certain that the time has come for the seer to step into his duties for the kingdom. Varian is at first very unhappy with being forced to live at the palace, but is befriended my Rapunzel quite quickly. And when his visions start coming on with even greater intensity, Varian must do what he can to help protect the people from Set’s plans and Apep’s impending return.

Ka - A living uraeus and Wadjet’s other champion. (Note: In this AU, “the Uraeus” refers to Ka, Varian, or the two taken together. The term applies to all three.) His character is inspired by the snake-hair character in the RTA series finale (though Ka has the added feature of a cobra hood), and his name is inspired in large part by the “ka” aspect of the soul in ancient Egyptian philosophy (meaning “double” and known as the protective aspect of the soul). His name is also reminiscent of Kaa from The Jungle Book, though it’s spelled differently. Given to Varian by Wadjet upon his birth, Ka has been with Varian since the beginning. While he and Varian are the same age, Ka grows up faster than Varian mentally, so he tends to be the more mature of the two. However, he isn’t adverse to causing some mischief from time to time. Growing up, Ka was pretty readily accepted by Ulla, but Quirin...was more leery of him. Especially given Quirin’s own past (more on that below), he first saw Ka as an interloper on what was supposed to be a peaceful family life. Despite this attitude, Quirin and Ka did have their moments of reliability from time to time, and Ka grew up seeing Quirin and Ulla as his parents (calling them “Father” and “Mother” respectively). For years Ka had to hide his existence from the outside world, and thus could get very lonely. It seemed that he would have to resign himself to a life of obscurity...until Varian started getting weird visions of things to come, and Ka started getting his own premonitions of things to come in the short term (i.e. waking visions of things close at hand). Ka also learned through his premonitions how to hypnotize people, which he would use mostly for therapeutic purposes, or to compel people to tell the truth if need be (though this function especially can take a lot out of him, so he’s not OP with this ability). Things take the most drastic turn for Ka when he lashes out at would-be kidnappers (as told in Varian’s description above), he becomes known to the wider world, and is then thrust into the champions’ efforts to save the kingdom from ruin. Ka also does that snake thing of prolonging his ‘s’ sounds when he talks, and when he first has the experience of talking to new people he takes to referring to himself in the third person. Just to be fancy I guess.  xP

Quirin - Varian and Ka’s father, member of the Brotherhood, and champion of Khonsu. Quirin spent a good portion of his adult life as a member of the Brotherhood in Karnak who - in this AU - are a warrior guild with allegiance to Khonsu, Egyptian god of the moon and time. While serving under Khonsu, Quirin acquired the ability to manipulate time in certain small ways - i.e. stopping time within a certain radius (usually a few yards), or around a certain person or object. This ability is very risky though, as if it’s used too often or too intensely it can have the side affect of “taking time” from the one wielding it (hence why Quirin appears a bit older than Adira and Hector, who are only a few years younger than he). After a good many years of service in the Brotherhood, Quirin decides to leave his service and settles down with his wife Ulla to start a family. However, upon the birth of their son Varian, Quirin is shocked to find that Varian was born with a living uraeus attached to his head (whom Ulla names Ka). After his dealings with the gods while serving Khonsu, Quirin is afraid of what Ka’s presence means for Varian, and does all he can to keep Ka a secret from the wider world. At first, Quirin is very leery of Ka, which does not go unnoticed by the rest of the family. Quirin is never cruel to Ka, never ignores him, nor dotes upon Varian while leaving Ka out of it, but it is clear that he sees Ka differently from Varian. Things become especially hard when Ulla dies when Varian and Ka are about ten years old, and Quirin has to raise the two on his own. Eventually, Quirin and Ka begin to grow closer, and Quirin does all he can to make sure he and Varian don’t get taken away from him. But after their cover is blown, Quirin is left worrying about his sons after they are taken away to live in the palace. As Quirin prays to Khonsu one night asking what can be done, he is informed that his duty as the Uraeus’s protector is not over, and that he will also be called upon to join in the effort to stop Set and Apep in the days to come.

Rapunzel - The princess of Egypt and the champion of Ra. Rapunzel was kidnapped by Mother Gothel as a baby, and was raised learning how to use her sun powers. However, when the champion of Horus comes to save her, Mother Gothel is defeated by her own evil designs, and Rapunzel loses connection with her healing powers in the ensuing struggle. After returning home, life is happy for the princess, and she quickly befriends many in her kingdom. However, when news comes to the palace that Wadjet’s seer has appeared in the land, Rapunzel begins her real journey to find her destiny, and must use her powers to save the land from its deadliest threat yet.

Eugene - The prince of one of Egypt’s major cities, and the champion of Horus. (Naturally, this was inspired by Eugene’s birth name being Horace in the canon series. xD) The son of King Edmund of Karnak, Eugene actually grew up in his family’s palace in this AU. When he was born, Eugene bore a birthmark on his shoulder blades that resembled wings. After consulting with the local priests, Edmund learned that the birthmark was a sign of the blessing of Horus, and that Eugene would come to wield great powers. Afraid for his son, however, Edmund has a hieroglyph painted onto Eugene’s back every few weeks or so to keep the power of the mark at bay. Eventually though, when Eugene is in his early teens, Horus’s blessing breaks through the barrier induced by the hieroglyph, and after a painful first transformation, Eugene has found that he has sprouted giant hawk’s wings from his back. After the initial shock, Eugene learns how to use and control this ability, and after some of Horus’s guidance, he manages to find the lost princess of Egypt and rescues her (while also falling in love of course ^^). After rescuing Rapunzel, Eugene decides to remain living in the capitol at the palace, though he keeps in contact with his family and home city.

Cassandra - Mother Gothel’s daughter, Rapunzel’s best friend and champion of Sekhmet. After being born to Mother Gothel, Cassandra grew up as a child servant in the cult of Set, and was left entirely on her own after Mother Gothel left her to horde Rapunzel’s sun powers for herself. Being miserable in her life situation, Cassandra eventually called out to the other gods asking for their help (she was probably about six or seven years old at this stage). Sekhmet heard her, and gave Cassandra some of her powers so she could don a lioness form and bust her way out. (Although, this blessing also left its mark on Cassandra, as she now permanently sports cat-like eyes, even when not in her lioness form.) After fleeing the cult of Set, Cassandra wanders around for a while until she is found by the Captain of the Guard, who came after he heard reports of a dangerous feral child wandering the desert near the outer villages. The Captain takes pity on Cassandra when he finds her, and takes her in as his own and teaches her how to fight and how to have discipline so she can control her powers. In addition to transforming into a human-lioness hybrid, Cass can also talk to felines and request favors from them, like spying on enemies and scouting and stuff. After gaining the trust of everyone in the capitol, Cass also came to be known by the revered title, The Lioness.

Lance - Eugene’s best friend and fellow resident of Karnak. While Lance is not a chosen champion, he is still a gifted member of the group, and is invaluable as a supportive friend and skilled wordsmith. When Kiera and Catalina travel to the capitol after Catalina becomes a champion, it’s Lance who is the first in the group to befriend the girls. Lance also has a background in being a treasure hunter, which comes in handy when the group needs to locate legendary artifacts, ancient temples and other things that will be vital to the success of their mission.

Catalina - Sister to Kiera/Angry, and Champion of Anubis. (A quick thank you to the Anon who prompted us to consider Catalina as a fellow champion!) Like Cassandra, Catalina’s blessing from Anubis allows her to don a feral form (this time in the form of a werewolf/werejackal) to help fight against the agents of Set and Apep. However, Catalina was chosen to wield Anubis’s blessing specifically because her heart was the only one judged by the scales of Anubis to be able to balance the powers contained within his blessing. As the son of Set and a god of death, Anubis’s blessing is extremely powerful and volatile, and only a certain kind of heart can learn how to balance it and avoid being destroyed by it. While Catalina still struggles with her power (especially during the first few transformations), she is able to gain great control over it with time. While she is considered an outcast from most of the rest of society, Kiera stays by Catalina’s side, and together they travel to the capitol to join the other champions in their mission to stop Set and Apep from destroying the world.

Kiera/Angry - Catalina’s sister. While Kiera/Angry is not a chosen champion, she is still skilled and is a beloved member of the group. After her sister Catalina receives the blessing of Anubis, Kiera stays by her side and travels with her to the capitol to join the rest of the group to help save Egypt and the world from impending doom.

Adira and Hector - Members of the Brotherhood, Quirin’s honorary siblings, and Varian’s “aunt” and “uncle”. While Hector and Adira were also servants of Khonsu like Quirin, neither were given special powers by the deity. Nevertheless, their work as members of the Brotherhood proves invaluable for the group, and they are more than ready to help with their skills and knowledge for whatever may come their way. When Hector isn’t serving at Khonsu’s temple in Karnak, he is the more adventurous of the two, and spends a good chunk of his time being a sellsword for the caravans traveling across the desert. He also has an affinity for animals, and thus relates to Ka very well upon meeting him for the first time.

King Edmund - Ruler of Karnak, head of the Brotherhood, and father of Eugene. A lot of his role was already laid out in Eugene’s description.

Frederic and Arianna - The pharaoh and queen of Egypt in this AU.

Egyptian Deities:

Wadjet - A snake goddess of protection and healing, Wadjet is the deity who chooses Varian and Ka for the mission to stop Set and Apep. In this AU, Wadjet is also a goddess of farsight, and thus allows Varian and Ka to be her seers on earth. While a powerful and graceful deity, Wadjet also has a “soccer mom” kind of personality to her as well. In this AU she has the form of a naga - i.e. human upper body with her lower body being a long snake’s tail.

Khonsu - The god of the moon and time, and the deity served by the Brotherhood. Khonsu is a rather mysterious figure, and while he can see through time and its various possible outcomes, he does not have direct control over how events play out. However, he does impart the ability to manipulate time in small ways to Quirin, though the ability does comes with a price if used to excessively. Khonsu’s personality is quiet, stern, yet also with a touch of levity here and there.

Ra - The god of the sun, and giver of Rapunzel’s powers. Unlike the other deities in this AU, Ra seems strangely absent, despite his sun constantly moving through the sky overhead, and Rapunzel serving as his emissary. He only speaks to her very sparingly throughout their adventure, but when he does it’s always at key moments.

Horus - The son of Ra, protector of the sun, and arch nemesis of Set. Horus chose Eugene to be his champion on earth, and gifted the prince with his wings and ability to fly. (Haven’t really ironed out more of his personality yet to be honest. More may come later!)

Sekhmet - A lion goddess and protector of Egypt. Like Ra, Sekhmet doesn’t make too many appearances in this AU, but she does give Cassandra her incredible lioness warrior powers.

Anubis - A god of death, judgment and the son of Set. Despite commanding a lot of respect, Anubis is a deity that many Egyptians fear and don’t like to talk about. He has a very serious personality (given his job that only seems natural), and really doesn’t like the idea of Set and Apep wreaking havoc on the world and making his job as psychopomp all the harder. (Basically, one of his motivations for wanting to stop the end of the world is so he doesn’t have a ton of more work to do with all the death and destruction that would result. ...Yeah, not the most altruistic reasoning, but guess the guy’s just being practical. xP) When choosing his champion, he weighed the hearts of all in the kingdom to determine which one could balance his powers best, and the scales determined that it would be Catalina, hence him bestowing her with his blessing.

Villains:

Mother Gothel - A former priestess of Set. After learning about the princess’s sun powers, Mother Gothel kidnaps the princess in order to use her powers so that she may remain young forever and never die. However, her evil plans collapse in on her when the champion of Horus comes to save Rapunzel, and Mother Gothel is destroyed in the process. (This is pretty much the extent of Mother Gothel’s role in the story.)

Zhan Tiri - High priestess of Set, and one of the main antagonists of this AU. For many years, Zhan Tiri ran the cult of Set from the underground, and kept her identity as high priestess hidden while posing as an advisor to the pharaoh’s court. However, after her attempt to eliminate the Uraeus fails, Varian and Ka see through her disguise, and she is forced to flee from the capitol and run the cult of Set from the underground in the temples and caves in the Egyptian wilderness. She’s pretty much a generic villain like in the series, where she just kinda craves revenge and destruction because...evil.

Set - The “big bad” of the AU alongside Apep. Where Apep is the brawn of the evil duo, Set is the brains. Set plans on using his cult to help release him and Apep onto the mortal plane, basically wreak as much havoc as possible, and take over the world.

Apep - The “big bad” of the AU alongside Set. Where Set is the brains of the evil duo, Apep is the brawn. As the giant serpent of chaos, Apep’s one goal in life is to destroy the world and all living things. He’s kind of the antithesis of Ka in this AU. His voice sounds a lot like Smaug from The Hobbit movies, and while big, strong and scary, he isn’t super clever.

Aaaaaand I think I’ll leave this post at that for now. Whew! I’ll probably make another post a bit later concerning a general outline of events, and maybe also some other posts with some dialogue snippets that Xiel and I have come up with if there’s enough interest.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.8}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 1.3k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

A glimpse into the seventh week of travels (or the second week of August):

After the Spanish heat a week ago, it honestly shouldn't have come as a surprise to Robin that Greece at this time of year would be no better. Indeed, it proved to be even worse in terms of both the scorching sun and also the tourists it attracted. The islands obviously were a preferred destination for tourists from all parts of the world, but Robin hadn't known just how many people were willing to squeeze themselves onto a tiny speckle of sand merely because the water was supposed to be the bluest there. Neither could she understand what some people liked about lying in the sun all day, which was exactly what the majority of people were doing here. Undoubtedly, this made their mission a whole lot more difficult, as literally every place Robin and Snape went to was already crowded with muggles. After checking the seventh and final location –Robin had researched multiple options to search for today's object of study in advance– only to find it littered with people as well, she honestly had enough of humanity for crossing her plans like that.

"Why the hell are there people everywhere?!" She groaned under her breath, trying to keep her voice down as she looked at Snape in sheer frustration. They were sitting in the soft sand of a small beach in the most secluded bay imaginable, shielded by rocks and reefs and cliffs, and yet they were surrounded by a crowd of vacationers. "How are we supposed to do the thing here?!"

"As it seems, there is little to no possibility to follow through with the plan. The means to prove your theory rely on 'the thing', as you so eloquently called it, and I currently see no way around it." He replied in equal annoyance about the people screeching and laughing and running all around them, but at least he understood the problem Robin saw here. With a group of muggles around, it was practically impossible to go through with the spells she had come up with to acquire the clam-like thing they were here about in the first place. Not without some serious consequences at least. They were huge creatures, these clams, and that usually meant high efforts as well as lots of unwanted attention.

"I didn't come all the way to Greece just to be stopped by bloody tourists now!" Robin protested, even though there was little use in it. It wasn't Snape's fault after all, nor was there anything he could change about their unfortunate situation. "We've never let anything or anyone stop us before…"

"There is a first time for everything."

"Nope, I'm not having it. I'll get this stupid thing, with or without magic." She said, and in the utmost determination to see this through indeed, she got up from where she'd been sitting in the sand. There always was more than one way to do something, and if the easiest one didn't work, she would have to get her hands dirty after all.

"What, pray tell, are you doing?" Snape asked, sounding slightly alarmed as he looked up at Robin with a frown while she halted in her movement to return the gaze.

Seeing him sitting there, dressed all in black as always, in such a contrast to the white sand beneath them… Robin just had to smile. He'd actually let her show him how to put his hair up indeed, the way Robin had done it with her own occasionally ever since the new year's ball, by twisting it into a bun and fixing it with a wand or pen. And good gods it did look way too good on him, which meant that Robin had to remind herself not to stare from time to time. Times like now. Her eyes snapped back to the edge of the water a few steps ahead in an instant.

"I'm doing what everyone's doing. Going for a swim." She sighed in defeat, then took off her sunglasses and put them down on her backpack.

"No, you're not."

"Yes I am."

"Not if you're planning to do what I think you're planning to do."

"And what do you think I plan to do?"

"Diving down the part of the cliff that is underwater to find the clams yourself, then try to detach one from the wall somehow and bring it back to shore." He stated in obvious disdain for the idea, which only served to amuse Robin, even as he spoke on. "I will not let you do such a stupid and dangerous thing. The current would undoubtedly throw you against the ragged stone, especially underwater, and trying to separate one of the clams' shells from the wall also is nigh impossible without the… method you had originally planned."

"That's why I'm not doing that." Robin shrugged almost easily. Almost. "I mean yes, I will still need to dive down the wall of the cliff, but I'm not separating the shell from the wall. All we need is a few of the leaves that grow inside the clam, and I think I can get it to open up while it's still alive. Then I can take out the leaves underwater and leave the shell where it is."

"You clearly must be joking." He scoffed and finally got up to his feet as well, leaving him to look down at Robin once more with that ineffably intense expression. "You were the one who told me just this morning that this… creature can literally bite your hand off when it isn't stupefied before the leaves are taken out! And the dangers of nature alone you obviously disregard entirely."

"Well yeah, I will just have to be careful then." She argued back, but her words lacked the conviction she'd still had moments before. Perhaps it really wasn't the best idea. Both, the strong currents that far outside of the bay and the clams themselves were a serious risk, especially in combination. A risk that, if she really thought about it, wasn't necessary. Her pride wasn't worth risking her life for.

"Don't do this, Robin. Please. Think about it, at least."

"I just-... No. You're right. I won't do it, it was a stupid idea." Robin replied quietly, and she couldn't help averting her eyes for a moment. It really had been a beyond thoughtless idea to dive down the cliffside; there was a reason why she had come up with a theory and a strategy to avoid having to take those risks after all. Gods, she felt stupid now. "I was just being an idiot."

"You would have been an idiot had you gone through with it despite better judgement. Admitting that an idea is too dangerous to be executed however has absolutely nothing idiotic to it."

"I could've done it though, you know…" Robin said after a moment of silence, as she put her sunglasses back on against the insufferable brightness of the beach. "It would have been unreasonably dangerous, but I could have gotten those leaves."

"I know." He replied calmly, and picked up Robin's backpack before she could. "But instead of risking lives and limbs right now, we could also find a quiet place in the shadows and wait until dusk to return here in the hopes that the people will be gone once night falls."

"You would seriously suffer through this heat for five more hours just so I can be stubborn and prove my theory after all?"

"Obviously."

"How about some old-fashioned sightseeing?"

"Don't push it."

"I would never." A pause. A smirk. "We could send Dumbledore a postcard."

"Now you are just being sarcastic."

______________________________

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[vorta-whore]

Transition of Power, ch. 3

The two of you go for a stroll.

Weyoun 5 x female reader

Chapter 1: An Introduction | Chapter 2: A First Date | Chapter 3: A Walk Together | Chapter 4: A Night on Bajor

---

You don’t consider yourself a particularly religious woman. You have always had faith in the Prophets, of course, and you attend weekly services whenever you can afford the time. But in all your years aboard the station, you can’t recall ever stepping foot in the temple outside of service hours simply to pray.

You’ve done so three times this week.

The silence and stillness of the shrine seems to help, for a moment. As you kneel onto an empty pillow and bow your head, your chaotic thoughts begin to subside, replaced by a single, focused prayer.

Prophets, you think, though you sometimes sense you’re talking to yourself more than to them. Please, guide me. I didn’t think I had a choice, at first, with this man. He wanted me and I could not deny him, for fear of what would happen to me. But the more we talk, the clearer it is that he isn’t forcing me into anything. I’m continuing it of my own free will.

You lace your fingers together and squeeze your eyes shut in concentration.

I know he’s a dangerous man. An evil one. He represents the empire that could tear the Alpha Quadrant apart. And I know he must have committed atrocities of his own as well. I shouldn’t want to be with him – I should be repulsed. But I can’t help it. When he leaves, I miss his presence. I think about him as I lie awake at night. I wonder what kind of a man he is, under that diplomatic persona. I want to get to know him. And I...I like how I feel around him. He makes me feel interesting. And wanted. Desirable, but respected. He treats me kindly, with a gentleness I never thought him capable of, that I’ve never experienced from another lover. And I know the right course of action is to end this before it begins, to reject his advances before they can go any further...but I feel in my heart that I would regret it forever.

A heavy sigh falls from your lips.

You gifted us with the ability to love so we could appreciate being bathed in your holy light. It is the purest, most powerful force in the world. So how could it ever be wrong? Would I...be a collaborator if I continued this? Is the only moral course of action to forget this affair? Or is this part of my fate – to capture the heart of a powerful enemy and help save his soul, and maybe some lives in the process?

You pause, your heart laid bare, and wait for a response. But you don’t really expect one. The Prophets have never spoken to you – not directly, at least – and you don’t expect them to start now. Even if you are in terrible need of guidance. For a moment you consider asking the vedek for advice, but you suspect he won’t give you an entirely unbiased answer when he realizes the object of your affections is none other than the station’s Vorta oppressor.

The musky scent of incense swirls in the air around you. Quieted but still frustrated by your own uncertainty, you take a moment to breathe and center yourself as best you can before heading back out to the Promenade.

The serenity you found inside the temple begins to fade away as soon as you leave it. You pause to survey the station inhabitants shuffling to and fro, their heads bowed, their faces weary. As much weighs on their minds as on yours. 

A sudden call snaps you out of your reverie.

“Y/N!” comes the excited, familiar voice, and you turn with surprise to see Weyoun flanked by his Jem’Hadar guards. Caught off-guard, you gape for a moment as he approaches.

“Hi,” you manage. He beams at you in response.

“Will you walk with me for a moment?”

Your answer follows before you can give it even a moment’s thought: “Of course.”

The Vorta turns and you fall in tow as the four of you cross the Promenade. You’re not entirely pleased to be seen in public with Weyoun – you keep glancing about as though fearful of the judgmental glares you’re bound to receive – but the majority of people you pass seem entirely uninterested in your little rendezvous. Beyond, of course, the usual uneasy glances they direct at Weyoun.

“I really did enjoy our dinner last week,” he says with a hum. “I apologize for not contacting you sooner.”

“It’s alright. I’m sure you’re a very busy man.”

“Oh, you have no idea the extent of it. I’ve rarely a moment to myself, let alone time to enjoy the company of others. Which brings me to my point.”

He pauses in front of a window and turns to gaze out at the stars. You do the same, and a faint wistfulness tugs at your heartstrings as you stare at the space where the wormhole hasn’t opened in months.

“I’d like to see more of you,” Weyoun says softly.

You look over at him with such a panicked haste that he quickly adds an addendum: “If that’s alright.”

“I – you – yes, of course it’s alright,” you stutter, and feeling sheepish, you avert your eyes and tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ears.

You can hear the smile (and notes of what sound like genuine relief) in Weyoun’s voice as he replies. “I’m glad to hear it. As it happens, my meeting with Gul Dukat later this evening has been fortuitously postponed – and I can think of no greater way to spend my suddenly free time than in the pleasure of your company.”

You glance up to see he’s turned from the window to face you, and his wide eyes glimmer with anticipation as he awaits your response.

You hesitate. Something within you is begging to say no, to run away – but you can’t fathom the possibility of extinguishing the spark of excitement in those amethyst eyes...

“Unless...you have a prior engagement?” he prompts at your hesitation, and the way his eyebrows raise and his lips tug into a frown has you scrambling to comfort him.

“No! No, I’m free. I’d love to join you,” you assure, quite earnestly in fact, you realize, and Weyoun’s expression melts back into a pleased smile.

“Excellent. I was thinking perhaps a change of scenery this time; I’ve already taken the liberty of securing a holosuite reservation. I think you’re going to like the program I’ve selected.”

Before you can inquire, Weyoun reaches for your hands, and the feeling of his soft skin brushing against yours steals the words right out of your mouth. You find yourself helpless under his gaze once more as he strokes his thumbs over the back of your hands, and in that simple, paralyzing touch you completely forget the two of you are in the public eye.

“I’ll pick you up from your quarters at eighteen hundred hours. Dress for warm weather.”

He presses a quick kiss to one of your hands and then is gone, leaving you breathless by the window.

No one had been paying you much attention before. But after that public display of affection, you notice several pairs of eyes quickly dart away as you turn back toward the Promenade.

You suppose you’d better go find a dress.

---

The door-chime rings at eighteen-hundred hours exactly, and you wonder if Weyoun had perhaps been standing there waiting for the precise moment to strike. With one last glance in the mirror to straighten your hair, you answer the door, and the sight momentarily stuns you.

You hadn’t seen Weyoun in any outfit other than his typical – was it a uniform? That strange, asymmetrical garb he always wore. But as an ambassador, it made sense that he would have a variety of clothing suitable for multiple climates, and he had donned one such outfit here for the occasion. It resembled his usual attire, in all its intricately-patterned, multi-textured glory, but revealed much more skin than you were used to seeing on the Vorta. Lapels of thin leather stretched out to just barely cover his shoulders, leaving his arms completely bare. The pleated mauve undershirt (though you doubted it was its own garment entirely, more likely just a piece of fabric sewn into the vest for modesty) dipped down low to reveal both collarbones, and the asymmetrical hem of the garment jutted out just above his hips. His trousers – a shade more form-fitting than usual – were cuffed at the shin, revealing a sliver of calves between the hem and the ankle-high boots he wore.

You had worried about feeling a little too dressed-down, in your flowing sundress and delicate sandals, next to the stiff and regal Vorta. But the casual outfit assuages your fears and you both grin – you a little giddily – to see the other in a new light.

“You look stunning as always, my dear,” Weyoun notes, “but especially so tonight.”

You hesitate as he offers you his arm, but the reality is that after this morning, the whole station likely knows about the two of you; there’s no point hiding this courtship anymore. You take his arm.

“I could say the same of you,” you tease, a little emboldened by the feeling of walking on the station commander’s arm. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you show quite so much skin.”

A smirk tugs at the corners of Weyoun’s lips, and you sense he’s debating saying something, but quickly decides against it. He simply chuckles. 

“I’m glad you like it.”

A thought occurs to you and you voice it tentatively as the two of you (followed, as always, by the Jem’Hadar guards) make your way down the corridors.

“Weyoun – is it true your people don’t have a sense of aesthetics?”

“Yes. The Founders did not deem it necessary for our purposes.”

You think you detect a hint of bitterness. But he continues on cheerfully: “Personally, as a diplomat, I do see the advantages; every culture has its own unique sense of style and taste, and if I had my own personal preferences among them, I might find it more difficult to establish relations with races whose appearances or architecture I disliked.”

“I guess that makes sense,” you mutter, not really agreeing. “I just wondered – you always compliment my appearance…”

“Ah,” he chuckles, “yes. I assure you those are genuine.”

At your look of confusion, he furrows his brow, trying to find the easiest way to explain. 

“...Allow me to illustrate it for you with an example. If you showed me two dresses – one horribly tacky, the other beautiful and elegant – and asked me to label which one was which, I wouldn’t be able to tell you. To me, they’re both slips of fabric in various colors and patterns woven together to make a garment. I cannot detect whether certain colors clash with one another, or if certain shapes are unflattering on one’s body. But what I can appreciate is the woman wearing the dress. Her whole demeanor often changes when she slips into a garment as beautiful as she is; she becomes more comfortable, more open, more in tune with her inner light. When I compliment her, I’m voicing my appreciation for things like...the way her smile lights up the room. The tinge of color on her cheeks and the spark in her eyes. The grace with which she carries herself. Her confidence in flaunting such a flawless appearance.”

He pauses to drive his point home by setting his free hand gently over the one you’ve laid on his arm and meeting your eyes with a suave smile. Your foundation does nothing to hide the blush that rises to your cheeks, and you to your horror a giggle bubbles up from your lips.

“Regardless,” Weyoun sighs, pleased at the response he’s elicited, “I can certainly appreciate the effort you’ve expended going out of your way to gild yourself for my enjoyment.”

Heads turn as you enter Quark’s, and for a moment you avert your eyes and stare to the ground in embarrassment – but Weyoun doesn’t falter an instant, and the sheer confidence with which he carries himself bolsters you. You lift your head with some effort, clinging just a bit more tightly onto his arm. 

Quark has the data rod with your holosuite program in his hand as you approach the bar; his expression is unreadable. Weyoun thanks him and takes it, and you continue upstairs.

“I do hope you like it,” he says, a little more loudly over the noise of the bar, as he slots the data rod into the panel. “Having never been to Bajor myself, I can only hope it is a faithful reproduction.”

You turn to fix him with a questioning look, but he only bows and gestures for you to head inside.

“After you.”

The doors part and you immediately feel a blast of warm air, a welcome feeling on your bare, goosebump-prickled skin. You step inside – followed closely by Weyoun – and the Jem’Hadar take up post outside the holosuite just before the doors slide shut.

The program, to your wonder and delight, is a perfect re-creation of one of Bajor’s most famous forests. Your home planet is well-known for its natural splendor – sprawling mountains, rolling hillsides, breathtaking falls – and this woodland is a shining example. Impossibly high, purple-barked trees stretch toward the endless sky, their leaves casting a shimmering dappled shadow upon the needle- and moss-covered ground. A brook winds and weaves through the web of tree trunks and their gnarled roots, its water crystal clear, its shores adorned by smooth pebbles and stones. Small woodland creatures dart to and fro throughout the underbrush, and you watch with quiet fascination as one of them – a long-eared, round-eyed lagomorph – pauses to nibble at the bud of a crimson sunset-lily.

You’re sufficiently awed.

“I take it,” Weyoun says softly from behind you, and you startle a bit, having all but forgotten he was there, “the program passes muster?”

“More than,” you reply, and turning to face him, you offer a genuine smile of gratitude. “I feel like I’m home again.”

A warm smile touches his lips, creases the corners of his eyes.

“I’m pleased to hear it.”

As the two of you approach the trailhead, Weyoun slides a graceful arm around your shoulders. He holds you firmly, but not tightly, and his embrace – the tingling sensation of his soft skin on your bare shoulders, the feeling of safety under his grasp – transforms you into a blushing maiden, clinging onto your shining knight. You wrap a reciprocating arm around his lower back as you both begin down the dirt path.

“I’m glad to be able to see some of your homeworld,” he muses after a few moments of contented silence, interrupting the cheerful sounds of birdsong. “Even if it is only a facsimile. My occupation, unfortunately, does not allow me much vacation time.”

He says this with a chuckle, intending the comment to be light-hearted, but you can hear an undercurrent of bitterness – the same subtle tone you noticed in your earlier conversation. The polite thing to do would be to move on; talk about the places in Bajor he should visit if he ever gets the chance. But you know it would be an empty gesture. There’s an opportunity here, and you’d be remiss to let it pass you by.

“...Weyoun,” you start carefully, and he glances over to you, attentive at your sudden tone of concern. “Do you ever…wish things were different?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he fires back, a little too quickly. His eyes slide back to the path in front of you.

“Yes, you do.”

Silence stretches out between you as Weyoun contemplates his answer. His arm around your shoulders has slackened a little and you aren’t sure if this risk is paying off the way you intended it to. After several long moments, he heaves a sigh, laden with a burden you sense he’s reluctant to acknowledge.

“Sometimes…”

He stops himself. You try to decipher the expressions crossing his face but they’re entirely unreadable. He glances back to you – looks down – sighs again. When he speaks, his words are deliberate, chosen with laborious care.

“Sometimes, I do harbor thoughts of what life might be like if circumstances were...different. There are many pleasures in this world unknowable to me; the taste of a home-cooked meal, for instance. Art in any capacity. Music, especially, I wish I could appreciate.”

“You can’t even enjoy music?”

“When I listen to a song, it’s as if I’m…” – his hand dances about in the air, searching for an apt comparison – “...looking at a sheet of mathematical equations. I can pick out the individual instruments, note the changes in their pitch, recognize patterns and motifs. But the whole of the song, the heart of it, escapes me.”

You both ponder this sad reality.

“I do think it would be nice to be able to carry a tune,” he laments after a long moment. “Or to dance. I’m a truly terrible dancer.”

The image of lovely, graceful Weyoun stumbling around a dancefloor elicits a burst of laughter from you, despite the heavy subject matter; Weyoun laughs along, relieved his attempt at cutting the tension was successful.

“That’s a shame. I don’t know how the Vorta usually woo their women, but on Bajor, dinner and dancing is usually part of the package at some point.”

“Well, I’ve managed to woo you without having to resort to dancing just yet.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you retort, grinning.

Weyoun agrees with a hearty chuckle.

“Let’s hope not.”

---

The two of you make your way down the winding trail, enjoying the sights and sounds of the woodland as you go. Weyoun, ever the gentleman, leads you by a hand over the fallen logs and stepping-stones that serve as bridges across the stream, his grip a comforting assurance. He waits ever so patiently when you pause to beckon to the furry little creatures eyeing you from the underbrush, and he is adequately fascinated by your explanations of the various flora and fauna, even humoring you when you pick the occasional flower and offer it for him to smell.

“Do you even have a sense of smell?” you question him at one point, twirling the stem of a flower between your fingertips; those of your other hand are laced comfortably with his.

“I do,” he assures, a little amused by the question but understanding of its necessity. “Scent plays a pivotal role in making good first impressions; it’s one of the first things a person notices. I find it helpful, actually, to tailor my own scent to match the preferences of those with whom I wish to establish good relations. It’s a subtle enough gesture, but effective.”

“Is that why you always smell so sweet?” You give him a light jab to the ribs.

He grins at your playful tone, shoots you a look of mirthful defeat.

“You caught me.”

“How did you know I’d like that scent in particular?”

“Well…”

Weyoun trails off, and in the span of that one word the tone of the conversation has shifted to something decidedly less lighthearted. Your attention is drawn to him as he withdraws his hand from your own and clasps it with his other; you wonder if that might be a nervous habit.

“Being station commander has its...advantages. There is very little that goes on here without my knowing, and likewise very little information inaccessible to me. If I wish to know...say...a particular occupant’s work schedule...or shopping habits...”

“You stalked me!” you accuse, and although the offense rings clear in your voice, you can’t honestly say it runs all that deep. Either way, you aren’t surprised.

“Stalk is a strong word!” Weyoun insists, the pitch of his voice rising as he hurries to defend himself. “I merely – gathered some basic information – to give myself the best possible chance of ensuring the outcome I wanted.”

“Which was?”

He looks at you a little strangely. The answer is obvious, of course, but you want to hear him say it.

“To win your affection. Which, it seems, I have. Or am I mistaken?”

His turn to ask the obvious question. You smile and lower your gaze to the ground.

“You have.”

“Then the ends justified the means.”

The trail opens up into a clearing, and you come upon the shore of a vast lake. There’s a stretch of fence close to the shoreline and you lean against it as you take in the sight: the rippling surface of the water glimmers like so many gemstones, reflecting the deep orange and violet hues of the Bajoran sunset.

It occurs to you that your Vorta friend may not be able to enjoy this painterly scene to the same extent you can. You glance over to him – and startle to see his gaze is fixed intently on you. It doesn’t waver as you meet it, and the unabashed eye contact brings a sudden warmth to your cheeks.

“What?” you finally ask, a little sheepish.

Weyoun’s smile grows just a shade deeper as he answers.

“You enjoy looking at the sunset. I enjoy looking at you.”

The simplicity of the statement only excites the butterflies in your stomach. You smile nervously, self-conscious, as Weyoun studies your face with a sudden, urgent interest; his smile fades and his brow creases with concentration. He’s searching for something – and whatever it is, he’s desperate to find it.

You’re just about to ask what’s wrong when his hand lifts to your face, and the gentle hold he takes of your cheek steals your thoughts away completely. His palm is soothingly cool; his touch, comforting and still. You notice his eyes slide down to your lips and you realize with paralyzing clarity what it is, exactly, he wants.

The next few moments happen in slow motion.

You allow the hand cupping your cheek to guide your face upwards, and Weyoun’s head tilts to the side, making room for you. You spare a glance down to his lips, then back up to his eyes, tender and heavy-lidded; your lips part and you suck in a small, quiet gasp of air, the last you’ll get for the next several seconds. As Weyoun leans down to close the last inch of space between you, your eyelids flutter shut – and an infinite, breathless moment passes before you feel his soft lips press, tender and sweet, into yours.

He lingers there motionless for several moments, the pad of his thumb stroking your cheek, before beginning to pull away – but you don’t let him. The instant his lips leave yours, your hands shoot up to grasp the sides of his face and pull him back down for more, and he obliges, gladly; you press up into him with more force, mashing your lips together in a hungry bid for intimacy, and he exhales heavily into the kiss, returning every ounce of passion. His hand slips from your face and you feel his arms wrap tightly around your middle, pulling your body into his, and for several long minutes the only sounds around you are the distant calls of the waterfowl and the lapping of gentle waves at the shore.

Neither of you wants to end this perfect moment. But, inevitably, one of you must break for air, and of course it happens to be you. You pull back just enough to breathe; your eyes blink open to meet Weyoun’s, and as you relocate your hands from his face to rest upon his shoulders, you notice with some amusement the faintest tinge of purple in his cheeks.

“Wow,” you exhale, lightheaded.

“Wow,” he agrees.

His grip on your waist loosens and, self-consciousness returning, you turn back toward the lake and allow the cool breeze to soothe your burning face. Weyoun releases you to instead rest a hand on the small of your back, and you lean into him, heart aflutter.

A few minutes of silence – of perfect, serendipitous peace – draw to a reluctant close as the automated voice of the computer informs you your holosuite reservation is at an end. You release the fence posts just as they disappear from beneath your hands and frown as the beautiful expanse of forest before you gives way to the cramped and machinery-cluttered interior of the holosuite.

“A pity,” sighs Weyoun, turning to you and taking your hands in his own. “I was hoping that hour might break the rules of spacetime and stretch out just a bit longer.”

It’s a little cheesy, but you giggle anyway, and he grins to have gotten to you. Lifting a hand to his lips, he presses one of his signature kisses to the back of it, and you sigh, squeeze his hand in return.

Emerging from the holosuite on Weyoun’s arm once more, you cringe at the din of the bar, so cacophonous compared to the quiet of the forest. But nothing can shake the absolute serenity now instilled within you. You practically float down the walkway, and though pairs of eyes follow your progress as they did before, this time you find it quite easy to pay them no mind.

Weyoun notes your confidence with an approving hum. “Not so self-conscious now, I see.”

You grin a little, shrug your shoulders. He responds with a chuckle and teases you in that lilting, singsong voice of his: “I wonder why.”

The walk back to your quarters is shorter than you’d like it to be, and before you know it you’re standing at the entrance to your quarters. Frowning, you turn to face Weyoun, not quite ready to part ways.

“It was a pretty short hour,” you say.

“Indeed it was.”

“It doesn’t...have to be over so soon. You could come inside…”

“I’m afraid not, my dear,” he sighs, and there’s genuine disappointment in his voice as he cradles your hands in his own. “I’m due elsewhere on the station in five minutes’ time.”

He soothes away your dejection with another quick couple of kisses to the back of your knuckles – and then, with a coy smile, one to the very corner of your lips. You turn your head to try to catch it full-on, but he dodges you deftly – ever the tease. You understand the purpose behind this tactic of leaving you wanting at the end of each of your encounters, but it frustrates you all the same, and Weyoun grins infuriatingly at your pouting.

“Try not to fret too much. I promise I’ll be in touch again very soon.”

You can only swallow, nod, and linger on his gaze as long as politely possible before allowing your hands to slip from his and turning with great reluctance to enter your quarters.

Sleep hasn’t been coming easily to you these past few weeks. But tonight, it greets you kindly, and you drift into an easy slumber with a smile on your lips.

[stillness-in-green]

If it's any consolation, I'm sure that the Advisors and the rest of the MLA (Re-Destro, Trumpet, Geten) will show back up sooner than the final arc, just because we're going into Year 2 and the students would find great 1 on 1 or team opponents with the Advisors. Re-Destro and Geten are heavy hitters (and Geten could be tied to Dabi, Shoto and all that somehow) and they were locked up with Mr. Compress and Machia, but who do you want to see first from the Advisors?

Thanks, anon; I certainly do hope we'll get to see more of them.  Admittedly, my main concern is that I so liked what was going on with the Paranormal Liberation Front that even if we do see all of the MLA types again, if it's only in the context of speedbump battles for the students, that's still going to be a letdown.  Better than nothing, to be sure, but I really do want them to join back up with the League, even a League that's confused and out of sorts under All For One's hand.  I love RD's big spiritual-awakening-flavored crush on Shigaraki, the cross-organization tensions and relationships, just as much as I love the depth the MLA brings to the world outside of just what's going on with the heroes.

I'm fairly frustrated with how the MLA fared during and after the raid, largely because it's awfully hard not to conclude that, if what we have right now is all the erstwhile-MLA are ever going to come to, Shigaraki would have been significantly better off if he'd just killed them all and shacked up with Ujiko for four months.  And that would be such a waste!  The end of My Villain Academia was such an enormous triumph for Shigaraki! I want his victory to amount to something more than what we've seen, something that shows that both his strength and his mercy will pay off for him in the long-term, will be a concrete benefit to him rather than, with the benefit of hindsight, the reason everything went so wrong.

Particularly with Re-Destro, since Horikoshi saw fit to have Dark Shadow all but one-shot the man, and Edgeshot defeat him off-panel, it's really not going to mean much to me for him to have a big fight with students unconnected to anything else.  The drama's rather gone out of it at this point.  That's particularly the case since, if he's no longer connected to Shigaraki's plot, it's that much easier for him to just be off-paneled and forgotten about.  But, if Rikiya gets looped back in with the League, if his gratitude and admiration of Shigaraki mean he still has a role to play in Shigaraki's arc, that makes it much easier to get invested in any fights that role will lead him to. Ditto the MLA more broadly; it's categorically ridiculous to present that organization with the kinds of numbers, breadth of influence and legitimate grievances they have, only to try to sweep them back under the rug exactly like Shigaraki accuses heroes of doing with everyone they can't save. 

To say the least, I'm pretty invested.  But I appreciate your consolations and am trying to hold out hope that we'll get some good stuff with them yet!

My anxieties aside, and to hit the other portion of your ask--who would I like to see first among the Advisors?--hit the jump:

(All nicknames and shorthand are taken from this post.) 

Well, it'd be nice if they could all get at least as much to do as the Eight Bullets back during the Hassaikai arc, seeing as they got a similar splash page spread introducing all their faces.  There are considerably more than eight of them, of course, but even if they never get more attention than e.g. Galvanize or the hose-faced guy who iced Midnight did, at least then we'd have some idea of their power sets and at least one angle on their personality.

Assuming we aren’t going to get full breakdowns on every single one of them, there are still four things I'd really like to see happen with the MLA/the Advisors: the student fights we're expecting, the jailbreaks we're being told about, the reunion with the League I'm praying for, and for literally anyone in the in-world media to try and get their side of the story.

Student Fights: Seeing the guy who killed Midnight again is as sure a bet as any of these get.  Momo is an important enough character, with enough sustained arc, that she will have to get something else to do before the series is over.  Taking command of a group battle against real opponents--ones with more responsiveness and agency than Gigantomachia--would be in-line with what she's been moving towards so far.  I would, however, love it if that fight would be more challenging than a straightforward battle of tactics.

I headcanon Hose Face and Scarecrow as, respectively, an ex-con and a dude with physical disabilities--both people who have ample reason to want to change the series' status quo irt human rights abuses in prison and overly restrictive quirk use laws.  I'm not expecting the canon to validate me on what amount to wild guesses, of course, but I want those Advisors in particular to have motivations more nuanced than, "They're quirk supremacists; who cares why they're willing to put their lives on the line over this?"

A feel-good revenge match in which a bunch of teenagers lay the smack down on characters whose humanity the audience is asked neither to know nor care about would be lazy, and counterproductive to the series' current thematic concerns. Give Momo her victory, by all means, but don't give it to her easy.  A confrontation like this would be a good way for the less central Class A students to begin wrestling with the question of who, exactly, heroes "save" and what it is that people need to be saved from, exactly the way Deku and Uraraka and Shouto are now wrestling with these questions.

As far as other fights go, I'd also love to see Brand and The Question pop up again. They're probably the two I'm most curious about purely in terms of what their quirks are.  Why does The Question wear a mask, and what's he like that he wound up in Mr. Compress's chain of command?  And with Brand, what kind of quirk does he have that's powerful enough to land him a ranked position in the Guerilla Warfare Regiment but indirect enough that he fights with a sword?

Prison Breaks: I wouldn't expect this to be particularly involved, probably more of an aside than anything, but I want the Bindi Ladies to spring Hole Punch Face, thus getting us an angle on what's going on with that particular trio.  Aviator Teeth can come too because I want at least some hints about what his deal is.

I'd also love to watch Horikoshi even attempt to retroactively justify some of the logistics of the single-day capture and subsequent detention of 17,000 super-powered, combat-trained people.*  I mean, I don't think there are any feasible explanations for that, but I'd be curious to see what he'd come up with, especially if every possible answer just makes Hero Society look worse! We have only ever seen Tartarus as an example of the prison conditions in this country; I'd love to hear more, and an MLA-focused jailbreak would be a great way to show it.

PLF Reunion: Of course, my number one thing to see with a reunion is Re-Destro being just as dismayed as Spinner is over Tomura's possession.  I crave more serious attention being paid to Rikiya's profound awe over Shigaraki's freedom, and would love to see his reaction to Shigaraki apparently losing that freedom.

Aside from the obvious, though, if the PLF does start piecing itself back together, I expect to see Sanctum again, given the attention he's gotten so far, and the fact that he's now the highest-ranked member of the Tactics Regiment.  It'd be great to get some explanation for how he can possibly be "the longest-serving member of the Liberation Army," given that the Army was generations old already when Re-Destro was just a child.  (If we do get that information, I imagine my own explanation will be jossed hugely, so I would also be happy to take time with Sanctum that doesn't explain the discrepancy but also doesn't invalidate my headcanon.)  

In the context of the regiments reforming, I'd also like to see Nimble and Aster, both because this manga needs more women, and because I'd like to see more of how Spinner and Toga interact with the people they were nominally commanding.

Media Attention: Trumpet's my number one hope here--the lack of any look into the state of the government in HeroAca Japan has been a total let-down since his introduction**, but I was particularly annoyed that the last time we saw him he was smiling (albeit in a fairly haggard way), giving me hope that we might next see him doing his part to portray all of this in a light that would sway public opinion.  And then literally one chapter later, we get prison guards talking about how the Hearts & Minds Party, a perfectly legitimized political party with representation on the national level, has been perfunctorily dissolved less than twelve hours from when the raid started.  How is there even an argument that the system heroes were upholding desperately needs to change?

I'm very tired of the media in BNHA only ever showing up to beg for/demand that heroes tell them what’s going on, particularly those damn press conferences. Journalists do investigative work! Newspapers employ reporters to actively seek out news!  Reporters in free countries don't just sit around waiting for the government or heads of major industries to graciously hand them press releases!  For heaven's sake, Trumpet was the head of a major political party.  People should be foaming at the mouth trying to get a statement from him!  

Especially with public trust in heroes breaking down, there should absolutely be intrepid reporters out there looking to get to the bottom of any of the layered conspiracies the public's just been hit with and told to just write-off as a bump in the road on the return to normalcy.

Anyway, Trumpet's the obvious choice, but if I could be sure the manga would validate my headcanons about Nimble and Scarecrow's disabilities, I'd be happy to put them in this position, too.  Trucker Toad would be another good candidate, if there's any basis to my idea that he is or used to be a transport driver who's seen a lot of the country outside the areas e.g. the Top Ten Heroes are patrolling.  He's obviously a good candidate for getting back to that idea of anti-heteromorph bias, too.  But really, I'd take anyone who can give a cogent explanation of the MLA's position on self-determination and the various ways Hero Society has exacerbated quirk-based discrimination.

Anyway, that's about where my thoughts are on where I hope the MLA people are and what we might see of them.  Thanks for the ask!

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

*Or as many as 100,000 more than that, depending on how through the statement, "Their bases around the country were also attacked, and their supporters rounded up," was meant to be.  An influx of 116K people, incidentally, would triple Japan's current carceral population.

**Why! Why would you introduce a politician and then never even glance at your setting's political situation??

[grantyort]

Prelude IV: Relight

Post-Surgery: DAY ONE

[Sean sits in the hospital bed, legs crossed, staring into space when he hears a familiar voice.]

Joey: Sean, Sean Diaz? Well damn. I never thought I’d see your sorry ass again!

Sean: Geez Joey. Is that how you talk to all your patients?

Joey: Just the ones I like.

[Sean chuckles]

Joey: C’mere big man.

[Joey gives Sean a big bear hug]

Sean: How’ve you been Joey?

Joey: Can’t complain. These days, they got me up in hospice care. You’re probably the first person I’ve seen today that didn’t need their bedpans changed.

Sean: Sounds terrible.

Joey: It’s all not all bad. Lot of these folks have stories that you wouldn’t believe. One of my patients has lived through five wars and two depressions, tells me I’m a credit to my race.

Sean: Yeesh.

Joey: (shrugs) She means well. It’s almost flattering compared to some of the stuff I’ve heard. Been on this job almost ten years now, some people still treat me like I have no idea what I’m doing.  

Sean: That sucks Joey.

Joey: Yeah... Anyway, you seem to be doing pretty well for yourself. From what I heard, this procedure cost a small fortune. You must have friends in high places.

Sean: Yeah, something like that.

Joey: And no guard at the door this time. I assume everything got cleared up with the police? Not planning to make a break for it again are ya?

Sean: Nah, no daring escapes this time.

Joey: Good. I don’t think I’d survive another blow to the head.

Sean: Listen Joey I’m really sorry-

Joey: (laughs) Relax Sean! I’m just messing with you! It’s ancient history as far as I’m concerned. Say, did you ever end up finding that brother of yours?

Sean: Yeah. He’s actually coming to visit me tomorrow.

Joey: Can’t wait to meet him!

Sean: Famous last words.

Joey: So… what you been up to these days?

Sean: Mostly just cramming for the SATs, drawing, listening to music. Normal teenage shit.

Joey: That’s good to hear. I was worried about you man. You went AWOL after the hospital. I got police and Feds breathing down my neck for weeks. Then a month later, I hear about a couple of kids trying the border to Mexico on the news.

Sean: Sorry I never reached out. I just didn’t want to get you more involved than you already were-

Joey: You made the right call. They questioned me for hours. My apartment was filled with G-men, my girlfriend was freaked. I honestly thought she was going to dump my ass.

Sean: I’m really sorry Joey.

Joey: Don’t sweat it Sean, it was for a good cause. Besides, everything worked out in the end.

Sean: Yeah I noticed, how long have you been-

Joey: Almost a year now. We’re expecting our first baby in the summer.

Sean: Congratulations dude!

Joey: Thanks, but honestly, I’m kinda nervous, don’t think I’m ready to be a father.

Sean: You’ll be a great dad, Joey. You’re awesome at taking care of people.

Joey: You’re damn right. Speaking of which, we should probably take a look at that eye of yours.

[Joey takes off the bandage and gives Sean’s eye a thorough examination]

Joey: Well it looks a helluva lot better than the last time I saw it.

Sean: That’s good to hear. I wasn’t sure it would work.

Joey: Well it’s too early to say if your vision will fully recover. But at the very least you won’t have to walk around with a patch anymore.

Sean: Good. It’s hard enough finding a prom date let alone one that’s willing to go with a pirate.

Joey: Still with the pirate jokes huh? Hopefully, you’ll have to write some new material after this.

[Joey applies a new bandage on Sean’s eye]

Joey: And you’re all set. Now as much as I love our talks, I gotta make my rounds. Buzz me if you need me.

Sean: Later Joey.

Joey: See ya tomorrow Sean.

 [Joey leaves the room. Sean turns to look out the window. The door shoots open, and a small figure comes bursting in.]

Daniel: Sean! 

[He jumps onto the bed and into Sean’s arms]

Stephen: (out-of-breath) Sorry, I tried to stop him, but he outran me.

Sean: You okay Stephen?

Stephen: I am… just need a minute to catch my breath. The old ticker ain’t what it used to be- I need to sit down.

Daniel: Take it easy grandpa.

Sean: What are you doing here, enano? I wasn’t expecting you guys until tomorrow.

Daniel: I made grandpa book an earlier flight. I just couldn’t wait! 

[he hugs Sean again]

Sean: Haha easy. I just had surgery, remember?

Daniel: Oh right, s-sorry.

[There’s a brief flash, followed by a shutter click]

Sean: What’re you doing, gramps?

Stephen: Oh nothing, just commemorating the moment. Thanks to your brother, I finally got the hang of this newfangled smartphone camera.

Daniel (whispering): He had it stuck on selfie mode for days. Anyway, did it go? Is your eye…

Sean: I mean… it’s not 100% yet but I can sort of see again.

Daniel: T-that’s awesome! Can I see it?

Sean: Dude last time I showed you my eye, you almost cried. Besides, the doctors say I still need to keep the bandage on for a bit, while it heals.

Daniel: Right. That makes sense. Oooh this room looks cool. Do they have Netflix or a Playbox?

Sean: It’s a hospital, dude.

Daniel: Lame.

Sean: So catch me up. Did I miss anything interesting at home?

Daniel: Nah… Chris is still on that fishing trip with his dad so there’s no one to hang out with. Oh I almost forgot. He made you this card. Isn’t it awesome?

[Daniel gives Sean a hand-drawn “get-well-soon” card from Chris]

Sean: Yeah. It’s pretty cool. We can have Claire put it up when we get back.

Daniel: Grandma’s still in that feud with the lady from church.

Sean: Which one was that again?

Daniel: Agnes, the one who gives off major Lisbeth-vibes. She says grandma stole her casserole recipe for the church bake-sale. Lying bitch.

Stephen: Language!

Sean: Maybe one of us should try to smooth things over before it gets nasty.

Stephen: Hell hath no fury… lemme tell ya. I’ve been married to your grandmother long enough to know once that woman sets her mind on something… there’s no stopping her. Best to just let things run their course.

Sean: Claire can get a little… passionate sometimes. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen her lose her temper for real.

Stephen: There’s a fire in that woman. It’s part of the reason I married her. Just pray she never turns it on you. I hope I’ll never live to see that day, god willing.

[Sean notices Daniel circling the hospital bed, pressing his hand on various parts of the mattress]

Sean: (laughs) What are you doing, enano?

Daniel: Just trying to figure which side of the bed I want to sleep on tonight.

Sean: Dude. There’s no way this bed’s gonna fit both of us.

Daniel: The one in Mom’s trailer was way smaller!

Sean: Yeah well… you were a lot smaller back then.

Stephen: They have a nice area for visitors down the hall.

Daniel: But I want to stay with Sean!

Sean: I guess I could ask Joey to bring in a couch or something.

Daniel: Who’s Joey?

Sean: The nurse who took care of me after the accident. I told you about him, remember?

Daniel: Oh right! I can’t wait to meet him!

 DAY TWO

Joey: How are we doing today? Any headaches, dizziness, socket pain?

Sean: Nah it’s all good. Still getting used to having depth perception again. It’s kinda weird.

Joey: You’ll get used to it. Anything else to report?

Sean: Nothing major. I’ve just been having some really weird dreams.

Joey: We have a psychiatrist on-site if you need a professional to talk to.

Sean: Nah it’s alright, probably just the drugs messing with my brain.

Joey: Well your vitals look good. We’ll go over some basic tests. You know the drill.

(Sean covers his right eye and tries to read the chart. Joey then shines a light and asks him to follow along. Finally, he asks Sean to put the cap back on the pen.)

Joey: You passed with flying colors. The doctor will be in for a final exam tomorrow and then we can discharge you.

Sean: (sarcastically) Too bad, I was ready to become the first Mexican pirate to attend college. So much for being a trailblazer.

Joey: Good to see you haven’t lost that snarky-ass sense of humor.

Joey: Anyway, I’m taking my lunch now. Want me to get you anything from the cafeteria? Wait… don’t tell me. Chocolate pecan?

Sean: You know it.

Joey: I met your brother in the hall. Cute kid.

Sean: (deadpans) Give it a few days. Then see if you get a “second opinion.”

Joey: He does seem a little… “energetic”. But that’s normal for kids his age.

Sean: Yeah one minute I’m his favorite person in the world. The next, he’s off doing God knows what, and doesn’t want me “bossing him around”. You know how it is.

Joey: Can’t say I do. Grew up in a house with three older sisters. Guess I must have been the annoying one. Daniel’s lucky to have you looking out for him. Must be tough sometimes.

Sean: Oh you have no idea.

[Joey claps Sean’s shoulder, he feels a jolt shooting up his spine, everything goes white] 

(Sean sees a door marked: “Miranda A. Connolly, Hospital Director”)

Connolly: You’ve been a valuable asset to this hospital. Stellar feedback from all of your patients and attendings.

Joey: I sense a “but” coming.

Connolly: But, given the dubious circumstances surrounding your transfer and your past involvement with the law. The Board thinks it might be better for one of the other nurses to take this spot.

Joey: Please. I’ve got a kid on the way. We just bought our first house. Can you at least consider bumping up my pay? I haven’t gotten a real raise since I started here. There are kids coming out of nursing school that make what I make!

Connolly: The hospital has limited resources as it is, and the State just slashed our funding again. I just can’t justify raising anyone’s salary right now.

Joey: I break my back for this hospital, work extra shifts, get to know the patients. You promised me at the annual review that I’d-

Connolly: That was before this new information came to light. I’m sorry Joseph, maybe next year.

[Sean snaps out of his trance]

Joey: Sean? Sean are you okay?

Sean: Sorry, Guess I spaced out. Must just be the medication.

Joey: I can have the doctor come by and adjust your dosage.

Sean: I’m fine Joey. I swear. Weren’t you about to take lunch?

Joey: Oh right. We’ll pick this up later.

[Joey leaves the room, looking slightly puzzled.]

Sean: (thinking) W-what what was that? A dream? But It felt so… real.

[Sean takes out his phone and enters the name of the hospital, He finds their website. Under the ‘About’ section he scrolls to the Executive team bio. There is a photo of the woman he saw in the vision followed by a small blurb]

“Miranda A. Connolly is the President and Chief Director of Mt. Cedar General Hospital. She was appointed back in 2016 as Associate Director and has since made ground-breaking changes to the field of medicine and medical care. Under her leadership, this hospital was able to expand greatly, hiring new diverse staff members and vastly improving quality of care for all its patients.”

Sean: (thinking) Holy shit… it’s real. Does that mean I…?

Daniel: Hey Sean! What you looking at?

Sean: Dude! Don’t sneak up on me like that!

Daniel: I wasn’t sneaking. I was practicing my stealth!

Sean: Yeah sure.

Daniel: Are you looking at the new Playbox Pro? My birthday is right around the corner you know.

Sean: Birthday? It’s still January!

Daniel: Never too early to start preparing.

Sean: (rolling eyes) Yeah cuz everything’s always about you.

Daniel: Oooh I bet you were watching those dirty videos again. I’m tellin’ grandpa!

Sean: Hey hands off my phone you little-

[Daniel tries to grab Sean’s phone. Sean wrests his hand away. There is another a jolt]

[Daniel stands in front of the vending machine, staring at the jumbo chock-o-crisp. He looks around to check that the coast is clear. Then he waves his hand causing the chock-o-crisp to fall off the rack and into the dispenser slot.He gleefully retrieves it and devours the candy bar in a matter of seconds]

Sean: Dude, I told you not to eat any more chock-o-crisps! Do you want another trip to the dentist?

Daniel: What are you talking about? I haven’t had one in weeks!

Sean: Yeah sure. So you didn’t pig out at the vending machine before coming in here?

Daniel: How did you-

Sean: Maybe I have magic powers or maybe… you’ve still got crumbs on your collar.

Daniel: Aw, damn it. Promise you won’t tell grandpa.

Sean: Oh so you can tell on me but I can’t tell on you?

Daniel: (smugly) Exactly.

Sean: C’mere ya little shit!

Daniel: Sean stop! Ha that tickles. Quit it!

(After their little bout, Daniel curls up next to Sean, resting his head on Sean’s lap. Sean ruffles Daniel’s hair absentmindedly)

Sean: You ever wish you were… you know “normal” again?

Daniel: You mean not have my powers? Nah. They’re a part of me now. Besides, being normal is overrated.

Sean: (chuckles) I guess it is. But do you ever get that feeling like you thought you wanted something for a really long time but when you finally get it, it nothing like you thought it’d be?

Daniel: Uhhh… you mean like how I begged grandma to get me a PlayBox Live Subscription, but then the exclusives turned out to be shit? And now I have to act like I love it?

Sean: Yeah something like that.

Daniel: (yawns) Meh I’ll just ask for a gaming PC for my birthday.

Sean: Dude you’re like the greediest ten year-old I know.

Daniel: How many ten year-olds do you know?

Sean: Uh… just you and Chris.

Daniel: So, you want me to be more like Chris?

Sean: Wouldn’t hurt.

Daniel: (imitating Chris) “Only the purest of hearts may wield the power of Captain Spirit!”

Sean: Guess that rules you out.

Daniel: (playfully) Shut up.

DAY THREE

Doctor: Okay Mr.Diaz. I want you to follow the light. Look to your right, up and to the right. Good, good, excellent pupil response.  Now look at the chart, cover your right eye and read this line.

Sean: Uh… A, O, E, P… T? Sorry I can’t really make out the last one.

Doctor: That’s okay, it takes time.

Doctor: Now this is probably the last thing you want to hear, but I recommend that you wear a patch over your right eye. It’ll be temporary of course, just until you learn to see with your left eye again.

Sean: (laughs dryly) And here I thought my seafaring days were behind me.

Doctor: You know… pirate actually wore patches so their eyes could easily adjust to the darkness and see below deck- Sorry my son’s going through a pirate phase.

Sean: I know the feeling. My little brother’s been through every phase imaginable.

Doctor: Kids, you gotta treasure every moment. Because before you know it, they’ll be all grown up, ready to go off on their own. Look at me, rambling on. Anyway, I signed your discharged papers. They’ll schedule you for some outpatient care in the coming months.You’re almost ready to go. 

Sean: Sounds good.

Doctor: And you’re sure you don’t want to get do something about that nasty scar? A good-looking kid like you, it would be a shame to-

Sean: That’s okay, I think I’ll keep it… as a reminder.

Doctor: Alright but if you ever change your mind, I could refer you to a great plastic surgeon.

Sean: Thanks Doc, for everything.

Doctor: The pleasure’s all mine, Mr.Diaz. The groundwork we laid here could help hundreds of other patients in the future. We are making history. Your nurse should be along in a moment to help you get discharged.

[Sean sits in quiet contemplation. Reflecting on his dreams and new “vision”]

Sean (thinking): Be careful what you wish for... 

Joey: Looks like everything’s good to go. Remember to use your eye-drops-

Sean: Twice a day. Yeah Joey, I know.

Joey: Guess it’s goodbye again. Don’t be a stranger this time okay?

Sean: I won’t.

Joey: Here’s my number. Call me if ever need professional advice or just want to shoot the shit.

Sean: Thanks Joey. Let me know how everything goes with the baby.

Joey: Oh don’t you worry about that. Soon I’ll be blowing up your phone with pictures.

Sean: Haha can’t wait.

Joey: Now hospital policy says I gotta wheel your ass outta here. For liability reasons.

Sean: At least it’ll be a smoother exit than last time.

Joey: (laughs) Get in the chair smart-ass.

Beaver Creek, One Week Later

Sean: Okay, you ready?

Daniel: (takes deep breath) Alright. Show it to me.

Sean: So… how does it look?

Daniel: Looks… normal.

Sean: You almost sound disappointed. Were you expecting a bionic eye or something?

Daniel: No. I just… it looks good. I like the scar; makes you look extra tough.

Sean: You think so?

Daniel: Yeah… totally badass!

Sean: Thanks, enano.

Daniel: You need a new codename, like Scarred Wolf or Deadshot Diaz!

Sean: Let’s leave the nicknames up to Chris.

Daniel: Hey! I make up awesome names too!

Sean: Whatever you say,“Superwolf”

[we-are-inevitable]

modern art // javid (ch. 1)

A/N: hi !! so some of you may remember an old songfic i did in march of last year, titled ‘modern art’ after the song “IDK You Yet” by Alexander 23. well, i’ve always thought that that one shot would work great as a stand alone fic, and here we are! i have ch. 1 edited and SO MUCH of it as changed- like, for example, the fic is a chapter fic now !! regardless, i hope you guys like this !!

WARNINGS: depression, anxiety, self-deprecation, past addiction, mentions of addiction, just general Bad Times- pls be mindful when reading !! it’s just very Not Happy rn ADDITIONAL INFO: all characters are in their mid-twenties in the fic. oh also this is probably important but it’s a soulmate au !!

Read On AO3!

tag list: @bound-for-santa-fe @wannabecowboypunk @shippingcannons @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @smallsies @deliciouspeachpirate @newsies-is-my-erster 

Jack doesn't know what’s going on with himself, but he knows that he could really use his soulmate right about now.

They’ve communicated before. Never verbally, and never enough to reveal who they were. Perhaps they are both just... dealing with some unspoken fears, dealing with the worry of rejection sitting heavy in their chests. Perhaps they both like this mystery- the uncertainty that came with the notes scrawled across their bodies in a handwriting that isn’t their own.

Or perhaps they just aren’t ready to take the plunge. To grow up and face the harsh fact that, as soon as they meet, wherever and whenever that may be, a new chapter of their life will unfold. Consume them. Change anything and everything they’ve ever known or held dear.

They had been braver when they were children, that much was true. Jack remembers staying up late often, writing notes on his skin and watching in awe as the replies appeared. He remembers the giddy rush of trying to quickly wash off the ink on his wrist when they ran out of space to talk, and, oh, how they talked. There were school days when Jack would go to class exhausted, feeling like he’d been walking through quicksand for miles on end, but all of it had been worth it. The exhaustion he felt had been worth being able to talk to them until two, three, four in the morning. Sometimes he regretted it, of course, but only because it was harder for him to focus in class. Never because he was upset at them.

He could never be upset with them.

Even now, Jack remembers a lot about his soulmate. They liked music. They knew how to play the piano. They were into a few video games, even some that Jack had never played, and said that they always tried carrying a book with them wherever they went. Jack remembers that, as a younger kid, they liked Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, but also liked analyzing Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe and a bunch of other fancy authors that Jack had never even heard of. They were intimidatingly smart, and sometimes, would carefully correct Jack’s grammar whenever he misspelled a word or something- but they were never mean about it, they were just… there. A steady presence that he could count on.

Fifteen year old Jack dreamed of finding them one day. But now, twenty-five year old Jack is losing hope.

He can’t exactly help it. For starters, he and his soulmate haven’t communicated in… well, shit, it had to be nearly a year. Maybe nine months or so, but there’s no way to tell for sure, and even then, their conversations since reaching adulthood have been dull, for lack of a better word. A few positive comments here, a ‘have a good day’ there- it’s all so mundane, and neither of them can be blamed for it. They both have busy lives- or, well, Jack does, at least. His job as a graphic designer is hard enough on its own, but the added pressure of doing freelance work and commissions on the side has been eating away at him for weeks, coupled with debilitating self-doubt and lack of motivation for… anything.

Saying that he’s overwhelmed is the understatement of the century.

There is always another design, another client, another meeting, another deadline, another sleepless night as he stares at a blank canvas and prays for a spark of inspiration from whatever God is listening. Usually his inspiration comes from the world around him- his friends, city life, even the quiet confines of his apartment, but right now... Jack is stuck. He had holed himself up in his room days ago, trying and failing to get out of bed every morning when the time came to work- and thank God that the majority of his work could be done from home. His boss was understanding, too, to an extent.

Still, though, there’s a constant heavy weight on his chest that prevents him from moving most days, and he’s lucky if he even gets up long enough to shower or eat or do literally anything aside from lie in silence and count the cracks in his ceiling.

Nothing had happened to him recently to bring this on, from what he can tell. Jack has always been the happy-go-lucky leader, the man with a plan, the guy who always knew just what to say to motivate others into doing the best thing for themselves, but when that responsibility is reflected back onto himself, Jack feels helpless. There are words waiting to be said, sketches waiting to be drawn, designs waiting to be sent to clients… yet Jack lies there, motionless in his room for three days before he even has the energy, the willpower, to pull back his curtains and allow the sunlight to shine through. There is so much he wants to do, so much he needs to do, but he can't bring himself to do any of it.

In all twenty-five years of his life, through all of the things he’s been through, the ups and downs and foster homes and graduations and birthdays and funerals and therapists and rehab facilities and whatever the fuck else life decided to throw at him, Jack has never felt so worthless, so… lonely. His closest friends are all moving on with their lives. Many have already found their soulmate, have settled down and hidden their rowdy, rambunctious pasts behind skeletons in a closet. They’d all gotten their adventures done and over with in high school and college, and most are moving onto bigger and better things in life. They have careers. Families. Some have children, others have pets, a few have an insane amount of plants to care for.

All have seemingly left Jack behind in the dust.

No one told him when to flip the switch.

No one told him when he had aged out of adventure.

Now, they would never say it, but Jack knows. He knows. Saturday hangouts and trips to the bar had been replaced by Sunday church services and playdates for the kids. Rather than hearing yelling from his living room after his friends had all been teetering just on the edge between tipsy and fucked up, Jack hears the news, and documentaries, and podcasts, and the ghosts of a past life that he still seemed to be desperately clinging on to.

Katherine had been the one to tell him that he needed to grow up, though she didn’t put it in such a blunt manner. No, she’s just.... gently urging him to find a bigger apartment, or buy matching furniture from a place that is not a thrift store, or purchase dishes that weren’t of the plastic Walmart brand. She says it was because she wants to see him in a more professional, "adulty" lifestyle, but he knows it’s really because she can see that he’s a mess.

Deep down, Jack knows she’s right. She’s always right.

He just can’t help but feel cemented in place, dreaming of the past while dreading the new future ahead of him.

Jack never asked to feel so broken for no reason. All of the hope and optimism he had felt as a teenager was gone, lost in a sea of uncertain plans and shitty jobs and bill extensions and canvases dropped onto the floor with no rhyme or reason. And, yes, maybe Jack would look dramatic to someone who didn’t know his situation, but Jack knows what dramatic feels like. Dramatic feels like watching his best friend, Charlie, belt onstage in front of a backdrop that he helped create for the school play. Dramatic feels like laughing at the top of his lungs while walking through a random gas station at two in the morning, joined by Race and Al, all while higher than a kite. Dramatic feels like driving to the outskirts of the city with Katherine, climbing onto the roof of an old building and screaming about all of their stress, their anxiety, their insecurities, just to have some form of emotional release.

Dramatic doesn’t feel like sadness. It’s not supposed to.

Not for Jack.

He had been so… so happy, as a teenager. Proud and defiant and carefree. He was the kind of guy to skate and smoke weed in Central Park until midnight and take a math test at eight in the morning the next day. He was the kid who stood on a table in the cafeteria and came out as bisexual to everyone around him, just because of a dumbass bet that he didn’t even get paid for. He was the boy who wasn’t at all good in an academic sense, but who always knew how to talk himself out of trouble, who always came up with the most ridiculous- or most believable- lies to cover his ass when he needed it, who was always the class favorite, the teacher’s pet without meaning to be.

Jack had felt on top of the world back then, but now he’s struggling to even get off of the ground. The longer time goes on, the more lost Jack feels inside his own life. He feels like something was missing, something big. Something bigger than himself.

When his mother was alive, which now felt like lifetimes ago, she would often echo this old wives’ tale about how it’s best to find your soulmate while you’re younger, just to save them- and yourself- the pain of being alone for a long time. Jack had always kind of believed her; logically, he knew it was true, but he had always told himself that it wouldn’t happen to him. That he would be fine alone, though it wouldn’t be ideal, and that he would have plenty of time for soulmates after he got out and made a name for himself.

He’s starting to think, though, that maybe she was right. Maybe Jack had waited too long to make a move, to make contact again, because now, he just feels nauseous even thinking about it.

Don’t get him wrong, he knows the negative effects of self deprecation and not taking his own mental health seriously, he’s been to rehab before, blah, blah, blah, but, fuck, how could he put his soulmate through something like this? This fucked up state of mind he has now. Jack can’t even imagine talking to Katherine about this, and Katherine had been his best friend for over a decade. He can’t just meet his soulmate now- it’s been too long, he’s too messed up, they won’t like him, they’ll hate him for not trying hard enough, and Jack will just end up alone again, wasting away in his bedroom because no one fucking cares. No one cares. He has nobody.

That’s not true. He has Medda, his mom, his savior, his impulse control, but the thought of telling her that everything is acting up again makes him want to scream. He has Tony, but Tony has Al, and Tony and Al have a kid- a sweet little five year old girl who calls Jack ‘Uncle Jackie’ and takes no shit from anyone. He has Katherine, but Katherine has her soulmate- this dude named Darcy, who Jack doesn’t have much of an opinion on because they just met, like, a month ago, and Jack hasn’t exactly been emotionally ready for a hangout session between the three of them. He also has Charlie, and Charlie has certainly seen him in worse times- like when Jack was kind of hooked on pills for the entirety their freshman year of college- but Charlie has grad school to worry about and Charlie would hate him if he bothered him with this.

Still, there are other people who would listen, probably. He could easily talk to Elmer, or Romeo, or Specs, or Jojo or Finch or Sean or a fucking therapist but that’s just it, isn’t it? If he talks, he burdens, and Jack Francisco Kelly would rather run himself into the ground than be a burden anyone.

So, he makes a vow.

He makes eye contact with his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s gripping onto the sink, holding on for dear life, as he stares into his own sunken eyes. He takes in his appearance. Damp, messy hair, falling down to cover his forehead. Pale skin, which isn’t normal at all. Dark circles have taken their place around his eyes, and his smile- one of his favorite things about himself- is… nonexistent.

Distantly, Jack registers himself dumping a full bottle of ibuprofen into the sink. And then, he does the same thing with the bottle of melatonin from his medicine cabinet. The valium follows. He lets the water run for a long time. It's not that he doesn't trust himself- he'd done so, so good in rehab, and he doesn't even feel urges that often anymore- but it's better safe than sorry, especially since he's like... this.

This is not the Jack Kelly he’s used to anymore. This is not the Jack Kelly he wants to be.

But this Jack Kelly is the one who vows not to reach out. The one who vows to only answer when his soulmate is ready, and maybe not even then.

He doesn’t have to wait long, though.

Not when a heart appears on the back of his hand the next morning.

It’s there when Jack wakes up, and, honestly, it almost brings Jack to tears- but not necessarily for happy reasons. Sure, Jack wants to be happy. Who wouldn’t be happy after seeing something like this? A lopsided heart drawn in red ink, right on the back of his left hand- it was the definition of a symbol, of a romantic gesture, and Jack wants so badly to write back, to strike up conversation, to draw a goddamn heart, but… he can’t.

He can’t, and that’s horrible of him, and he knows it.

Right now, though… Jack can’t even work up the courage, the energy, to call his mom.

His soulmate, whoever they are, is going to have to wait.

[agir1ukn0w]

Attention Reylo Fam!

After hearing some disturbing rumors on social media that Lucasfilm may be considering pulling back the release of The Rise of Kylo Ren in order to change some major plot details of Ben Solo’s journey to becoming Kylo Ren (specifically his involvement in the destruction of Luke’s academy), I have decided to write a letter to Lucasfilm asking them, if the rumors are indeed true, not to do so. Obviously it is more than likely that the things I’ve been hearing are no more than supposition, given that I’ve only seen them on Tumblr, however I would still like to voice some of my concerns and the collective concerns of the fandom to Lucasfilm if there is a small chance they will receive my letter and take it seriously.

I have just finished my first draft, and I wanted to post it here so that you may read it and give me suggestions on things I should change or add on in the comments. I value the input of my reylo family, and I want to be as truthful and accurately representative of the feelings of the collective fandom as I can. I will post the draft below the cut, and also, if you would like your name to be included in the signing of the letter (either your blog url or, if you are comfortable, your real name), please let me know and I will add you to the list.

Dear Disney Lucasfilm Ltd.,

I would like to preface this letter by saying think you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for all the wonderment and inspiration that you have given me these past four years of my life. These movies, tv shows, books, etc. have been a cornerstone of my cultural upbringing since before I can remember and I personally believe that Star Wars is the single greatest tale in the history of the world. I thank you with all my heart for carrying it forward so honorably.

That being said, I still very much believe in this story’s potential to be a beacon of empowerment for those who feel so disenfranchised and even oppressed in the real world. I still believe that this story is capable of making children look up and believe in themselves and their power to make a difference.

I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand the reasons why you made the choices you made with regards to Episode IX: TROS. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fine movie, and I thoroughly enjoyed it. No work of art can possibly please everyone, and I would also like to thank the cast and crew for working so hard and putting their entire souls into these projects these past several years.

This has all been a roundabout way of coming to the main point of my letter to you. Specifically, this letter concerns the character Ben Solo.

I’m sure that you have been hearing and seeing a variety of heated emotions on social media concerning the fate of this character. The first time I met him way back in TFA, I knew that he was someone special; even then I felt a very deep connection with his struggle and began to root for him. The arc that you gave him in TROS was beautiful, and everything I really wanted to see. I’d been hoping for his redemption for a long time, and to see it so beautifully acted on screen was truly inspiring. Although I must say that I really could have done without his death, for the purpose of this particular letter, I will digress from that opinion, even though I know for a fact that I am not the only one who holds it. At the end of the day, Ben’s storyline was fulfilled because he overcame the darkness within him, helped Rey to defeat the ultimate Evil, and brought her back to life with his love. I couldn’t have asked for more.

However, I have been hearing rumors on social media which are very concerning. A few people have suggested that Lucasfilm plans to pull back the release of the comic The Rise of Kylo Ren by Charles Soule in order to change some of the major details of Ben Solo’s story to better fit with what happened in the movie. Specifically, I am referring to the very important fact that Ben actually didn’t kill his fellow students in cold blood and that he didn’t set his uncle’s academy on fire. I don’t know if this rumor is even true, and I pray that it isn’t. The fact that I have as yet only seen these rumors on social media leads me to believe that there is little probability to it.

However, I cannot convey to you the depth of my despair should they turn out to be true. And I know that I am not alone. The fandom has already seen the plates, clearly showing that it was not Ben who set fire to his uncle’s academy. It would be a huge mistake to completely redo them now, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that you would lose the good faith and trust of many people in this fanbase.

I have written this letter to implore you all at Lucasfilm, if these rumors are indeed true, to please rethink your strategies; Speak with your fans directly, understand their viewpoints and how important this character is to so many. I won’t tell you how much I personally love and care for the character of Ben Solo so as not to take up too much space in the letter, but there are many others who love him feel a much deeper connection with the character than I. Should you chose to do this, you would not only be drastically changing important details of the character’s life, but you would also be taking his own past from him. So many dedicated fans will feel disenfranchised. Furthermore, your sales would go down drastically. I cannot tell you how devastated the vast majority of your fans would be. We all want justice for Ben Solo, and if we cannot have it through him living a long and happy life, we deserve to see it through the truthful telling of his past.

Both Disney and Lucasfilm have been major centers of hope and inspiration for me throughout my life. The messages that you send, that even those who have made terrible decisions in their lives can be gravely misunderstood by others, and that they can always make things right, is extremely important to me. And the story of Ben Solo is one which I have followed closely since I saw The Force Awakens for the first time. I believed in his ability to redeem himself even before the information that what happened at Luke’s academy wasn’t his fault came out. Even when it was assumed that he had killed his fellow students, I believed in him because that is what Star Wars is about. Belief, hope, and understanding. In The Last Jedi, Leia says, “Hope is like the sun. If you only believe in it when you can see it, you’ll never make it through the night.” I have held on to that message ever since I heard it, and it has gotten me through many tough, emotional times in my life. I know that you respect your fans, and we as a fandom have not given up hope that you will do what is right for these characters.

Once again, before I close out this letter, please accept my deepest gratitude for all that this company has done to bring Star Wars into a new generation, inspiring us to go forward and create our own stories and modern myths. I am, and always will be proud to be a Star Wars fan.

Sincerely,

…………

Let me know what you guys think, I am excited to mail this letter!

Peace, Love, and Reylo💜

[hannahelizabeth30]

Losing My Religion

When I was 12 years old, I went to Acquire the Fire in late October of 2011. That is when I specifically remember giving my life to Christ. 

I loved God. I loved the purpose it gave me to start my former middle school’s first FCS (Fellowship of Christian Students; most people know it as FCA) and it is still going to this day. I am proud of that and I will never not be proud of it.

When I was 16, my cousin died. He was very young, only 26. I thought that his death would help me grow closer to God. It only made me begin to question Him and His goodness.

I finished my high school education online. I thought it would make my life a lot easier. It did. But I lost all contact with people my age. I did not have any friends. I was so depressed and so lonely. 

That summer is when I did my first musical in three years. I met Kelsey, our director, who was fighting Stage 4 Ovarian Cancer. Kelsey was a bad-ass. She was a great friend and a talented individual. I knew that Kelsey wanted to be my friend, but sadly, her fight with cancer ended in death in November of 2016. 

That was when I remember the major questioning beginning. 

How could a God give a young girl such a fatal diagnosis? She was 21. She was diagnosed with cancer when she was 19. 

Why was it the one person who made me feel like a normal 17-year-old girl have to die? 

It was truly unfair and unjust.

I went back to life as usual. No friends. 

(Please note: I do have friends, they just live far away due to school and/or jobs. They are there for me, but I do not have a friend/friends that I see or talk to every day)

Then I graduated and started my freshman year of college.

I wanted to move out and get away from Akron. I thought that would change at this new school. I was excited to not be online but also nervous as well. 

A week into my freshman year of college, I was raped. 

This was the catalyst that set every doubt into motion. 

Rape is something you cannot justify. 

The Bible says that God is all knowing. That he created me in my mother’s womb.

So when he was “creating” me, he knew:

I was going to deal with crippling anxiety and depression.

I was going to be raped when I was 18 and sexually assaulted when I was 19.

I was going to deal with verbal, sexual, and cyber bullying all throughout middle and high school. 

I would be diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, which is known as “the most difficult mental illness” (via Google) and has been viewed historically as “difficult to treat” (also via Google)

I was going to lose my cousin tragically.

I was going to make a friend, then lose her tragically as well. 

I was going to deal with childhood trauma. 

I was going to feel constantly overlooked and invisible.

If God claims to know all of our strengths, our amazing moments, the giver of all things good, then why doesn’t the Bible answer why we have to deal with trauma?

The story of Job is the one I found myself relating to the most because of how much it pisses me off. Instead of telling Satan to leave Job alone, God tells Satan to do anything to him and Job will still be faithful.

A real dick move there, God. 

And if Job messed up and stopped believing despite all the death, disease, poverty, and famine? Oh, then he would be banished to hell. 

People would compare me to Job in the midst of my struggles and I used to feel honored by that. Now, I just think it was an easy way for people who believe in God to give me an easy, gift-wrapped answer rather than to sit down and actually talk to me about why I was/am having these doubts and why I am struggling so much. 

I spent almost 8 years of my life begging God to help me. I begged Him every single day to cure me of the demons that lived in my mind. I begged for peace. 

I never got any. 

Why wasn’t I good enough? What is it that I am not doing enough that I am not worthy of peace? I read my Bible everyday, I prayed, I tried my best to live like Jesus and all I get is NOTHING? NO ANSWER? 

I’m done. 

I have been done, but I was just too afraid to admit it to anyone else that I was. But I’m done believing in God. 

I don’t need any theological lectures or how I’m going to hell now. Trying to follow God after everything I have been through brings me great pain and misery. People who have claimed to be believers/Christians have failed my family and I (more so me but when they failed me, my family felt failed as well) more times than anyone else. The world is in terrible shape right now, it always has been. You cannot sit here and try and explain to me that a good good Father would let this go on. He is more powerful than Satan! Yet he chooses to let it continue! 

It’s ironic that now as I proclaim my disbelief for God that I feel more at peace than I ever have trying to believe in him. I feel more relaxed. I feel like I’m free to be me, finally. 

Politically, I stand about the same. I still believe that life begins at conception, so there’s no way I will EVER be pro-choice or support politicians who advocate for abortion. #ProLifeAF 

I believe in equality for everyone, every person. 

Christianity does not preach that.

Religion, in general, does not mean equality and justice.

[chidoroki]

TPN ch180

(spoilers! i'm so broken)

I didn't want to be right. I didn't want to actually believe that Emma was lying. If anything, I thought she was just lying about staying with her family when they crossed over to the human world, knowing she would be separated, but this.. oh my god. This girl knew ever since ch143 that she was going to lose her memories of her family and straight up lied to them about it. Granted, only a few days passed from when she returned from The 7 Walls up until they all crossed over to the human world, but still, I.. don't know how to feel. I knew since the prison break she had great acting skills so I'm impressed that she managed to pull off yet another wonderful performance, but wow.. I really hoped she wouldn't! To keep such an important and life changing secret from her family, who are all so important to her, I can't imagine how hard it must have been for her knowing this while dealing with the entire capital attack and GF plantation raid. Fighting so hard and succeeding in achieving a bright, happier future for everyone but herself.. ow, my heart.

Some people are fine with the memory loss, others aren't. If anything, at least she's the only one who forgot? I think it would've been worse if everyone else forgot about Emma instead, so having the promise only hurt her is fine.. well, it's not, clearly, but you get what I mean.

And if demon god wasn't on my nerves enough already, the little prat decides to basically photoshop every family member out of the photos Emma kept this entire time. I'm touched she still had the photos in her possession, but now this upsets me so much. Upon seeing the first set of raws and learning Emma lost her memories, I hoped that she could possibly remember them by looking back at these photos if she still had them. But no. Demon god doesn't want me to be happy or get my hopes up. It would've been such a cool idea though. We know Ray originally requested the camera because he needed to strobe for the taser, but he continued to take pictures, not only to keep up the act to prevent Isabella from getting suspicious, but to give said photos to Emma because he knew how important their family is to her. I would've loved it if something so important from the first couple arcs came back at the very end to help Emma regain her memories.

Not only that, but demon god also got rid of her id number? Like.. really? I don't know why that bothers me so much but it does. I know the id brands just proved that the kids were meant to be nothing but food. Of course I know that they're all so much more than that and I should be happy Emma lost hers, because it truly means she's free, but the number was a part of her you know? It would've been fine if every cattle child lost their identifier, but since it was only her it makes me think demon god wanted it to be that much harder for Emma to remember her past and family. That's what bothers me. That even now, after they all crossed over and don't have to deal with demons anymore, demon god still has the audacity ability to make Emma suffer. If she still had her number, I'm sure she would've questioned it, much like Ray did when he was younger (my mind thinks back to ch28, that one memory of him looking at his neck in a mirror). Maybe she would've realized that the people in her dreams also have the same neck numbers, if only faintly. (it must be so weird for Demizu to draw Emma now and not include her number after all this time)

That leads me to wonder if Emma has questioned the rest of her appearance yet. I would assume she's still missing her left ear, since her hair is still covering that side, so does she ever wonder about why it's missing? What about the scars on her body? We personally haven't seen them, but you can't tell me her back and abdomen looks perfect and clean after getting stabbed by Lewis. Yes I know, scars heal with time, but the scar on Lucas' face was still recognizable after 13 years. Same with Zack and his many unfading scars. So does Emma question where hers came from?

Moving on, a month passes and still no memories, however Musica's necklace seems to be the cause of Emma's vivid dreams, like it somehow brings life to her feelings. We see the necklace constantly, not only because Emma wears it, but on volume covers and other color pages as well. It's always been shown off as this important item and yet it hasn't really served a purpose yet. Emma recieved the necklace back in ch51 and the only thing its done so far was show her that one old vision at Cuvitidala in ch101. It'll be a real easy way to solve everything by having the necklace just conveniently bring back her memories, so I get why some people might not like the idea, but at this point I'd be fine with it.

Figures she would end up in the human world with someone who can sympathize with her pain. Old dude lost his family due to war but at least he can remember them. He asks if Emma would want to see her family, if they're alive, and she remains unsure and lost. She doesn't know who these dream people are to her, why they call out "Emma" or why it makes her feel better.

This panel.. this one right here is what breaks me. Our girl is so upset and she can't even understand why. We know why you're crying hun, it's because you miss your family. Your memories may have faded but your feelings for them still live on with you! I have no doubt that love you just as much too! My poor girl, someone send me her location so I can go and hug her!

Emma might have given up trying to remember who she was and live a new life, but if she did encounter her family again, I hope she would be excited to meet them as new people. Maybe they could all start over. Over time they could gently remind her of her past, and if Emma truly can't remember, I hope they'll accept her regardless.

And a name change? I'm.. mmm frustrated. Yeah it makes sense since she couldn't remember hers and would need a new one anyway, but aahh, really? No id identifier, no memories, no name; it's like she's a new character. I was never a fan of the amnesia trope, like she's such a great character and gets built up wonderfully, and now it's like you reset her to zero. Yeah I know, deep down she's still the happy go lucky girl we all know and love, who's strong and capable to still smile even now, but.. man, idk anymore. This whole chapter hurts me.

There's a dim light at the end of the tunnel because we get a glimpse of Ray, Gilda and.. at first I thought it was Don but that person is way too short, so Phil? Regardless, I gotta give them some credit. It may have been a couple months, (remember, old dude said he could't call for help until spring and there's flowers in the ground now) but they've already managed to find where she might be in this new, large world. Please, turn around though! She's so close to you guys, she's right there! Notice her antenna or something, I beg you!

Demon god said that even if Emma met her family, she wouldn't remember them, but I still have small hopes. Emma claim's she stopped having the dreams and given up trying to remember her past, but maybe that short amount of time believing in them was enough. Aside from the necklace which connected her feelings to her unconscious mind, the five sense can also recall memories. Perhaps if she heard her name now, outside of a dream, something in her mind will click. Maybe she would get that warm feeling again she once longed for. Sense of smell and taste are usually most effective in bringing back memories so maybe just being near them or having them cook for her could also help. I know the sense of touch usually works for when you personally touch something, but if it's possible to also recall memories by being touched, then please, for the love of god, let Ray pat Emma's head again! He's done it countless time over the years.. can you imagine if upon meeting and learning that she has no memories, Ray is just like "no worries, you're still the same Emma to us," and while he pats her head, she's like wait hold up, major deja vu, I feel like I felt something like that happened before. I'm probably only getting my hopes up real high with that idea (since old dude just patted her head and nothing) but bro.. I would honestly cry if something so simple and nostalgic as a head pat helps Emma remember her family even the tiniest bit.

And yes, I'm worried Norman isn't around. Please don't let me be right again by having him stay behind due to his health issues. Just let him be in another search group somewhere else okay? I'll accept that. It's odd he wouldn't be working alongside Ray but whatever, split your best minds up to create equally powerful teams, that's fine. It only worries me because now we might not get one last full-score trio hug like I originally hoped! I swear having a hug like that as the very last panel of the series would've been perfectly fine with me after everything that just happened. But now.. aahhh, we'll see.

I can't believe the series ends next week. There's still so much I want to see and know. I pray there's a happy ending for everyone. I want Emma with her family. I want her to remember them. I want one last full-score trio hug. Shirai, don't let us down! You played with my feelings so much within the past year, so please make all the stress and tears worth it! Give me an ending that will satisfy me so much that TPN replaces Black Lagoon as my favorite series! Go ahead, I dare you! Ya see that beautiful panel? Give that to us and not have it be a fantasy! (pretty please??)

[chiefnooniensingh]

neither the angels nor the demons (a joe x nicky one-shot)

Rated: T Warnings: Major character death Summary: Joe and Nicky face the worst thing yet. A/n: So I was on my way to a meeting when I was suddenly struck by the terrible thought of either Nicky or Joe dying, leaving the other alone in this world. And because I'm a massive masochist, I decided to write it. I am so sorry.

The title is (loosely) from "Annabel Lee" by Edgar Allan Poe

also on: ao3

Joe had always known the day was coming. Of course he'd known, he's not an idiot. But knowing it and being prepared to face it were two vastly different things. Something he was going to find out very soon.

Joe and Nicky had been mourning the death of Booker, whose wounds, after nearly a millennium of fighting, finally stopped healing. Sebastian Le Livre went peacefully and calmly into the next world, and they were happy that he had finally found peace…it still hurt. They had also taken another immortal into their little family, a small spitfire of a person named Kati, with whom Nile had formed a bond not unlike Joe and Nicky’s own.

Even though Joe wasn’t aging, he was starting to feel old. Slowly, he was starting to understand the haunted look he had been seeing on Andy’s face, in the year before the Merrick incident. Increasingly, he noticed he was forgetting things. Names, places, times. History blurs together when you see so much of it. He knew his Nicky felt the exact same way. They fought for what was good and what was just, they knew this world still needed them, but sometimes Joe wished he would go to sleep and never wake up.

A feeling that would intensify a thousand-fold very soon, though Joe was unaware of it. At this very moment, he was trying to keep a group of deadly assassins from assassinating a group of children.

“Joe!” Nile’s scream was of an intensity that Joe seldom heard, and his heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t often the ex-marine was so overcome with fear that her throat rasped when she screamed. Ending the last assassin’s life, Joe turned on his heels and ran towards the sound of Nile, who was still yelling his name frantically.

It took him a second to register what he was seeing. Then he dropped to his knees, feeling like he’d been shot in the chest point-blank. Nile’s hands were slick with blood, her entire body was trembling, and tears were streaming freely down her face as Kati looked on helplessly. Between them lay Nicky, a gaping wound in his side. “He’s not healing, why isn’t he healing, oh my god!” Nile yelled frantically. “Joe, I’m so sorry, I tried to stop them, I did, I’m so – ”

Joe could only stare at the still body of the love of his life, feeling as though he himself were dying. After over 1500 years of never spending more than a few decades apart, Joe realized that he was now going to have to face the rest of his life alone.

A soft voice rasped, “It’s okay, Nile,” and Joe’s heart leapt. Nicky was still alive! They could heal him!

Scrambling over to sit next to Nicky’s head, Joe looked down at his lover, his husband, his everything, who was looking very peaceful, for a man about to bleed out. “Nicky,” Joe muttered, “Nicky, what do we need to do, how can we heal you?” Andy lived to the ripe old age of god damn 80 because they protected her vigorously. They could do the same for Nicky.

Nicky coughed, a smile appearing on his face as he lifted his trembling hand to touch Joe’s face. “You cannot, amore mio. It is my time. I will have peace. Non disperare, Yusuf,” he said, when Joe gasped and grasped Nicky’s hand tighter. “It is destiny. We knew it would come.”

Joe shook his head, even though he knew what Nicky was saying was absolutely true. “No, Nicolò, I cannot live without you, what will I do?”

Nicky smiled at him, looking for all the world as if he were not dying, but merely about to fall asleep. “You will live. You will love. You will fight for what is right. And when your time comes, we will see each other again. Tu ed io per sempre, Yusuf. Death does not change it.”

“I love you, Nicky, ti amo, I do not know how to go on.” Joe was fully crying, feeling like his heart was going with Nicky, leaving him living but not alive.

“Ti amo, my love.” Nicky used what little strength he had to pull Joe down to put their foreheads together. “We had our time. Thank you for loving me. You saved me. I am forever grateful for you, my Joe, my love, my heart.”

Joe let out a pained sob as he pressed his lips to Nicky’s. Nicky’s mouth was already cold, the blood loss beginning to show in everything. Next to them, Nile was sobbing quietly in Kati’s shoulder, but Joe barely registered them. His whole universe had shrunken to his dying Nicky in his arms. “You saved me, too, Nicolò. I was drowning when you found me. You taught me how to swim. I love you so much, your kindness, your selflessness, your heart, you are everything and more. I give you my heart to guard until I find you again.”

Nicky closed his eyes and laughed painfully. “You are an incurable romantic,” he said and pulled Joe down for a kiss. Joe kissed Nicky like he was an ocean and Joe wanted to drown. In the back of his head, Joe knew this would be his last kiss with Nicky. His last kiss of his life. After a while Joe realised Nicky had stopped moving, and, heart beating, he raised his head to see Nicky lying slack in Joe’s arms.

“Nicky?” Joe said, his voice breaking. “Nicolò? Per favore, Nicolò. Nicky!” He started frantically shaking Nicky’s shoulder, but there was no response. “Nicolò!” Joe kissed Nicky’s cold lips, but there was no response. He pounded on his chest, hoping to restart his heart, but nothing happened. Joe stared in horror as the colour drained from his Nicky’s face, even as the love of his life looked like he was just sleeping peacefully. Joe knew better, however.

His Nicky was dead.

“No,” Joe muttered, looking frantically around for something to cling on to. Nile was crying, her hand covering her mouth to force back the noise of her grief, Kati wrapping their arms around her. Joe’s heart was hammering in his chest, like it was trying to join Nicky in the afterlife. “No, Nicky…no, I can’t live without him, please!” He looked up at the sky, praying to his God and Nicky’s, and any other that might be out there. “Please, bring him back!” Nothing happened. “Bring him back to me!”

“Joe…” Kati said, their hand landing on his shoulder, and in reflex, he slapped it away. They didn’t back down however, putting it back without so much as blinking. “I’m so sorry, Joe. I can’t imagine the pain…”

“No, you can’t!” Joe said, his voice breaking as his heart did, looking down at his Nicky, lying in the dirt like he hadn’t been the man by Joe’s side for nearly two millennia, like he hadn’t been alive at all. “This man was next to me for most of my life, he was my person, he held me when I was afraid, protected me when I was weak, and he kept me sane. Now I have to face the world alone!” he snarled, but at the last word he broke down again and crumbled, his forehead resting on Nicky’s cold one. The sobs that were wrenched from his chest was something entirely new, it hurt in a way that he knew would never truly fade away, and Joe allowed it to hurt, even as it felt like he wanted to tear out his heart and fling it into the ocean to join Nicky.

“You’re not alone, Joe,” Nile said, moving to sit next to him. “We got you. We’re with you. We’ll get you through this.”

“No,” Joe moaned, his fingers burying in Nicky’s blood-soaked shirt, his eyes clenched shut, the pain in his heart overwhelming him. “No, no, no. No.” He continued to mutter, in all the languages he knew, to pray for someone to bring his love back to me, but deep down he knew it was no use. He knew the truth even as he tried to deny it.

Nicolò di Genova was gone from this world.

Yusuf Al-Kaysani was alone.

[burts-baked-bees]

{If The World Was Ending          You’d Come Over Right? }

Author: ohhey-mishamigosx

Relationship: Cas x Reader

Warning : Violence, swearing, ANGST, idk what else, its for big kids. 

Word Count :  4404

A/N: I’ve been meaning to post more stories on here cuz AO3 is trash. This song gives me major SPN vibes so I made this. Its divided into 3 parts. The male sung verse/chorus is Cas’ POV, the female sung is Y/n’s POV, the part sang together will be both of them!  This took me a while to write and I’m so happy with how it came out! So enjoy! 

Summary: (A story written to the song lyrics of “If The World Was Ending”by JP Saxe &  Julia Michaels) Castiel and Y/n have had a complicated relationship since day one, but now Chuck is wiping out the world they know, and Y/n is nowhere to be found. 

                                                                         - PART ONE - CASTIEL’S POV - 

( Bold is Song Lyrics ) 

( Italics is Flash Back )

I Was Distracted, and In Traffic 

    The room was impossibly silent as a lone figure stood in a dark and dismal room, their head tilted to the heavens. Flashes of red were seen in the night sky, clouds outlined by the blood soaked light sending eerie shadows on the world below. The harsh flashes outlined the fabric of a worn trench coat and even older suit, the vessel wearing them was no stranger to the feeling of fear that filled his bones as the impending doom danced across the skies. He had been present for many of the earth's cleanings; from the Great Flood to some of his father’s more recent attempts at wiping the slate clean. But, in all those mass killings, those end of days times, he had never felt nearly as much dread as he felt in these very moments. 

I Didn’t Feel it, When The Earthquake Happened

As his blue eyes followed the red lighting across the ever expanding skies, he found himself thinking back to one singular person. 

   One small human of the billions on this planet had captured his mind and held it in bittersweet captivity. He just knew she was somewhere halfway across the country he was in, her eyes also fixated on the skies. And he, an angelic host of the Lord, prayed that she too was thinking of him, but he knew that to be far from the truth. He would know, he remarked, if she was sending out her thoughts to his almost graceless form. 

   The earth shook. 

   Castiel felt the very ground beneath his feet cry out in pain as a rumble filled his ears. He grabbed ahold of the wall next to him and dug his fingers into the plaster. He watched as dirt erupted from new forming holes and cracks in the surface of this once calm planet. He knew it was drawing to a close. He knew his father had had enough of the foolery of his creation, and now he was striking back. The end was near. 

   And he was alone. 

But It Really Got Me Thinking

“Well, look who’s back.” Her voice was soft, but bitter and it sent a shiver to the angels' very core. He turned his head from Elieen and met her gaze. The ghost of a smile was seen on his cracked lips as he took a step to face her fully. 

  “Hello Y/n.” He rasped, his blue eyes twinkling. Her expression didn’t change in the least bit as Sam came to rest behind her. He pursed his lips into a flat line and raised his brow at Castiel, making his confusion with her temperament known as well. Eileen signed something to Y/n and she responded quickly, too fast for Sam to see and unknown to Castiel. She stepped away from Sam and past Cas to lean her weight against the map table. 

  “What brought you back? Thought you and Dean were mad at each other again.” 

Sam looked to Castiel confused as the seraphim looked to his feet, then back at the woman across from him. 

   “I was told that Sam needed help with his….. Unusual wound ...” The words left his mouth like a plea for any form of relaxed conversation, but it met Y/n’s ears like a deflection of what she truly wanted him to say. She narrowed her eyes at him and smiled dryly while nodding. 

  “Yeah…” She pushed her weight off the table and brought her body impossibly close to his. Castiel felt his grace flare for a moment, the proximity of Y/n to him was affecting him in more ways than one. Her e/c eyes were fixated on his blue ones as he felt her body heat enter his own personal space. His Adam's apple bobbed as he tried his best to keep his eyes on her’s and not her weather beaten lips.  

      “That’s exactly what I thought you’d say…” Castiel felt like a spike of ice had entered his vessel. Her words cut him deeply as she made her way around him and out of the room. Sam, Eileen, and Cas watched as the hunter left the room with her arms crossed. The way she carried her obvious sour emotions resembling that of Dean, and giving Castiel yet another taste of the discomfort of being in the presence of this family. 

Were You Out Drinking?

Were You In The Living Room Chilling

Watching Television?

    The sky was growing darker and brighter all at once as the lone fallen angel made his way through the musty afterglow of the earthquake. His mind drifted to thoughts of Sam and Dean, and what they must be doing now. They always seemed to be at the center of earth shattering events, and this time must not be an exception. He imagined them throwing caution to the wind and pulling out all the stops in order to bring his father’s plans to its knees once again, like a never ending story book that had no definitive plot. He wondered however, as he looked to the rubble around him, if this time God had truly given up. If this was to be the ending to the creation he had hid from for so long. 

   “I’ve never seen this planet so calm.” His voice drifted over the restless land and floated into the air with no real destination. He wondered how Heaven and Hell would react to the coming end, and to add the Empty to the mix was a frightening thought. He had gone face to face with that entity before, and hated every minute of it. That disgusting abyss had taken more than one friend from him; from brothers and sisters, to the only soul that had ever come close to calling a son. He recalled the way Jack used to interact with Y/n. How he looked to her for comfort and compassion when the Winchesters lacked the knowledge of how to tap into those emotions. She was so kind to the young boy. She treated him like family, and Castiel couldn’t help but see him and her as the parents that Jack deserved. 

      There she was again.

    The world was crumbling around him and all he could bring to his mind was a girl that had rejected him long ago. She was all he could think of. Her world was coming to a close and he feared she may be alone in this chaos. He feared most of all that he hadn’t crossed her mind once. 

It’s Been A Year Now

  “You don’t get it Cas! After all this fucking time you still don’t get it!” Her voice was rough and raw as she screamed at the angel across from her. He stood rigid and tall, his suit jacket and trench coat were placed on the edge of her bed, his frame looking impossibly naked with his white sleeves rolled and tie loose. He clenched his jaw as the words left her mouth and he looked to the door before looking back to her; blue eyes ablaze. 

   “I am not some ignorant child Y/n. I may not be human, but I assure you I have a firm grasp on the nonsensical emotions you all seem to share!” His hand was raised and pointed at the door as if referencing the Winchesters just a step outside. She laughed dryly and with venom in her lips, she marched at him and got right in his face as he straightened up and met her gaze with a passion. 

  “You’re not a child Castiel, that much is true, but you’d be a fucking liar to say you weren’t ignorant.” She spat the last few words, and Cas felt each one strike him like a knife to the chest. She went to walk past him and out the door but she was stopped by his hand grabbing hers. She went to pull away when her eyes found his face. His blue eyes were fogged with tears and his brows were knitted together in what could only be pain. Her entire mood changed at the drop of a hat as she took in the look on his face. His messy hair was falling in his face from the heated fight just a few moments ago, and his chest was shaking from ragged breaths. 

   “Please…” He choked as Y/n stopped moving, “I Can’t do this….. Not with you…” His once strong and dominant voice was nothing more than a whisper now as a lone tear made its way down his cheek. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. The angelic beast once proud of his inability to feel, was forced into experiencing the most human of emotions. 

Fear.

Y/n let her guard down and let a sob slip past her lips. Castiel looked up at her with a look of confusion, but relief all the same. She gave a hard tug on his arm and brought his body crashing into hers. Castiel deflated and let her hold him. He felt himself give into her completely as they fell to the floor in a mix of limbs and tears. 

I Think I Figured Out How 

How To Let You Go And Let Communication Die Out

“It’s a shame. Of all the ways for our father to dismantle this planet, he chooses earthquakes and fire from the heavens.” Castiel spun around, his shoes sending a groan through the gravel he was standing in, his angel blade dropping from his sleeve like an extension of his arm. “Well, nice to see you haven't changed brother.” The words left the girls mouth as Castiel sighed and lowered his weapon. 

  “Iaoth.” He breathed, “You caught me off guard.” The seraphim stiffened up upon seeing his sibling.

  “I’m surprised to see you alone.” She remarked as she brushed a bit of soot off her shoulder, “I’ve been told you’re very fond of humans. Seeing that you threw away heaven and all of us for them.” Her mouth was smiling but her eyes shot daggers, Castiel glared at his sister with a deep anger. Her emerald eyes darted around the torn and beaten landscape, “So after all this time, we finally get to see our mighty fathers breaking point…” Her hand reached to a decaying flower sprouting from the ground. Castiel watched her intently, his grip on the silver angel blade never wavering. She picked the rotting plant from the ground and crushed it in her hand. “His breaking point was his biggest mistake.” 

 “Why are you here Iaoth?” Castiel spat, his jaw clenched and eyes ablaze. She laughed at his demeanor and wiped her hands on her suit jacket. 

  “I could ask you the same thing ‘Oh Fallen One’.” She turned from his gaze to look upon the fire filled skies. “Heaven, as you know, is very much in shambles. You and I are some of the only ones left alive. Naomi is having a party up there with what's left.”  She looked to Castiel, her teeth barred in a sinister smile. Cas took a step to his left, circling her as she moved the opposite direction. “It’s so sad to see you like this brother.” Castiel could hear her wings ruffling, as if she was preparing to take flight; or fight. “I can almost smell her human vile on you.” Her wings extended to their full length, the lights from the sky illuminating the silken feathers. Cas felt a primal fear alight in his gut, this wasn’t the first sibling of his to try and kill him since this all began. So many seemed to blame him for the way things were coming to an end. His vessels hands were drenched in the blood of his fallen brothers and sisters, and his angelic form was scarred from the ending of his own kind. Iaoth’s words stuck Castiel to his very core as he allowed the human Iaoth spoke of to take shape in his mind; a misty form reaching out to him in the midst of chaos. 

 I Know, You Know, We Know        

        “The whole of the heavens is ending, your celestial home, where you were created and raised, and yet your mind is lingering on the vile mistake that is human kind?!” Iaoth’s words were strong and soaked in rage as she squared up the much smaller Castiel before her. 

  “Iaoth. I don’t want to fight you.” Castiel spoke, his deep voice unwavering. The woman's laughter flooded the air like a bolt of lightning, 

  “You really think you have a choice?!” She spat. “Look at you! A broken and grace stripped seraphim! You don’t stand a chance against me or my TRUE brethren.” Her wings were now fully visible. All six of the deep grey spans filled the air like dark clouds, and Castiel let his heart drop as he considered the condition his own wings were in. Iaoth laughed again as Cas allowed his own wings to spread out, the once proud black feathers holding more gaps than anything else, and scarred flesh beneath them. “All that…” Iaoth spat, “For humans. You must be so proud…” Her words dripped with sarcasm as she lunged at the fallen angel before her. 

You Weren't Down For Forever And It’s Fine 

The motel room was dusty and old, large pieces of dust hanging in the air were seen best around the yellow lamp light, setting a almost frozen in time feel about the place. Castiel looked ahead of him through drooping lashes as the frame at the foot of the bed unbuttoned the last of the flannel shirt that hid her form. The yellow light illuminated every inch of skin as she made her way up from the foot of the bed to mere inches from the angel's face. He could feel her breath fan over his face as she moved his hands to rest on her hips. He exhaled shakily as he closed his eyes, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips. His own name filled his ears like a breathy sigh as he shot his blue eyes open to meet her e/c ones. 

  “Do you want to do this?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper. He could see in her eyes that she was genuinely asking him, out of fear of frightening him away. He gave a smile and brought his face closer to hers, his lips ghosting over hers. She held back a low moan as he rested his forehead against hers, their noses brushing. 

  “More than anything.”  In an instant their lips crashed together, moans and staggered breaths filling the air of the motel room. Y/n straddled Castiel’s lap atop the bed and worked his white dress shirt off his torso. Cas brought his hands to her hips and brought her roughly down against his heating core. She let out a gasp and broke the kiss. With a smirk she reached for the bedside lamp and wrapped her fingers around the switch. Castiel grabbed her wrist and held her back from snuffing the light. She looked to him with confused eyes, only to be met by rough lips against her own. The stubble around his own face dragged down her neck as she let her hand drop from the light. 

  “Want to see you…” He growled as he pressed more kisses to her neck. With a smile she brought his eyes back to meet her own. 

  “Then let's get started.” 

I Know, You Know, We Know 

We Weren't Meant For Each Other And It’s Fine 

Iaoth spit a mouthful of blood to the cracked and dry earth as Castiel stood above her, his hand wrapped firmly in her hair bringing her gaze to his own blood splattered form. She laughed through red stained teeth and took a shallow breath, 

  “You pack quite the punch little brother.” Castiel brought the butt end of his angle blade down on her swollen face a few more times, the sick crack of bone filling the hot air. 

  “I’m not going to sit here, Iaoth, and watch you die but you should know that it’s out of pity,” He brought his face closer to hers in order to whisper the final statement, “And not because I consider you anything close to family.”  He released her hair from his fist and let her fall to the ground. His hands were red with the paint of war as he wiped them clean on his coat and began staggering away. Iaoth was on the ground on her back, sputtering blood as she cackled at seemingly nothing. Cas ignored the sound and kept walking, finished with the mere thought of her. 

   “She’s-- She’s going to die alone. On this forsaken slab of creation. Thinking of why you didn’t save her…” 

Castiel froze. His eyes were wide as he turned his head to the side, taking in the sickly form of his dying sister. “That human girl you bonded with like an animal,” Her words were choked, “The word back home is that Naomi is offering safe passage to a parallel world to the one who brings him her filthy head.” 

 “SHUT UP!” Castiel boomed, bringing his boot in contact with Iaoth’s jaw and sending her reeling to the ground. More broken laughter left the dying angels mouth as Castiel breathed heavy, his shoulders rising and falling in a dramatic manner. He stood over her, his eyes ablaze by her words,

   “That hunter whore is going to die drowning in her own blood and her filthy body is going to burn with the rest of this world.” That was the straw that broke the camel's back, with a deep guttural scream Castiel drove the shimmering blade in his hand through Iaoth’s chest. Her own scream ripped through the skies as her eyes and mouth broke forth with a bright glow, a small reminder of the grace that once filled her. 

  Once the screams died down, the dark haired angel stood from the lifeless body beneath him. He looked to the burned imprint of her wings upon the ground and wiped a spot of blood from his own face. His mind was reeling, wondering if what Iaoth said had been true. If there really was a price on Y/n’s head, as some sort of sick joke by Naomi’s hands, he had to find a way to get to her. 

    To warn her. 

   He wasn’t even sure if she’d want his help at all…

But If The World Was Ending You’d Come Over Right? 

Dean placed a hand on Y/n’s back as he helped her stumble to the car. His eyes were laced with concern as Sam opened the back door for her, worry upon his features as well. 

  “Guys, I’m really fine.” She slurred, her head spinning from blood loss. “You don’t  need to panic…” Her knees gave out as Sam jumped forward and helped Dean catch her. She chuckled a bit at her own expense and allowed the boy’s to help her into the back seat. Sam looked to Dean and they both decoded that he would ride in the back with her. 

  “Hey Y/n. Keep those eyes open.” Sam cooed as he brushed the side of her face. She smiled at him and scrunched her nose. 

  “Trust me Sammy, I’m not dying in the back of this car. That’s nor nearly exciting enough for me.” Sam laughed at her blind optimism and met Dean's eyes in the rear view mirror. 

   “You die in the back of my car, and I’ll kill you.”Dean joked, taking a glance behind him at her ever shrinking form. Sam felt her squeeze his hand and looked to her now closing eyes. 

  “Hey!” He shouted, “No, no,no,no, don’t go to sleep Y/n.” He shifted so his hands were holding her face. “Goddammit don’t go to sleep.” 

 Dean began to panic in the driver's seat as the sounds of Sam’s protests filled his ears. 

  “Dammit Sammy, don't let her sleep!”

  “I’m trying!” Was the angry response. Y/n shifted in Sam’s grasp as she forced out a few more words. 

  “You guys are such idiots…” Her eyes drifted closed. 

You’d Come Over And You’d Stay The Night?

Castiel practically flew down the stairs as the Winchesters came into view. His eyes were wild as he searched the room for any sign of loss or pain. Sam smiled at him and took a step forward. 

 “Hey, easy buddy.” He placed his hands on Cas’ shoulder and held him steady. Cas looked to Dean who pursed his lips, cocked his brow, and gestured to the chair Sam’s body was blocked from his view. Cas moved from Sam’s hold and froze upon meeting the gaze of Y/n, wrapped in one of Dean’s hoodies, and face littered with stitches and bandages; but still smiling. 

  “I lived bitch.” She spoke in a horse voice. Dean laughed out loud at her statement and sat down beside her, nursing a half empty beer.  Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair,

 “Wow that was so sensitive, considering he thought you were actually dead.” Y/n shrugged and felt tears brim her eyes as Cas raced to her. He pulled the chair around and knelt down at her feet, taking her hands in his. 

  “I - I really thought I lost you.” He looked up at her with big blue eyes, also brimming with tears. Dean shifted away just slightly, a look of fake disgust on his face from the romantic display. “If you ever do anything like that ever again-” 

 “Oh, I guarantee you I will.” Y/n cut him off, “But we’ll be a bit more careful next time.”   

Would You Love Me For The Hell Of It? 

All Our Fears Would Be Irrelevant. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone before.” The words sailed off with the breeze as Y/n scratched an itch on her face. She glanced to the angle beside her, his body leaning against the tan car behind him. His trench coat was wrapped around Y/n’s shoulders, and she noted how utter naked he looked without it. “Sorry if that's too forward.”

  Castiel looked out at the sunset and sighed, his eyes soon traveled to the human beside him, wrapped in his essence. “Y/n…” He began. She looked to him with hopeful eyes. 

  “In all my eons of existence, watching civilizations rise and fall, watching your kind like a child watches a bee in the garden…” He looked to her, “I’ve never seen a more perfect example of the wonders my father is capable of making…” His hand wove together with her’s. 

                                                        “... Then you…” 

            If The World Was Ending You’d Come Over Right?

   The sky let forth a loud cry as the earth beneath Castiel's feet shook. He looked skyward and took witness as large chunks of flaming stone began falling from the heavens. He watched in the distance as the stone crashed to the ground and set a sick crack through the air. He watched as the sky began falling to the ground, and he was helpless to stop it. He swallowed hard as the soft sound of ringing filled his ears, and he reached for the almost forgotten phone in his inner pocket. 

  “Dean?” His voice bellowed over the sound of earth breaking all around him. 

    “Hey Cas! You seeing this?! Where the hell are you two man?! Me and Sam are dying over here!”  

Castiel furrowed his brow and shielded his eyes as dirt few up all around him. 

 “Dean? I’m in Montana! Are you two still at the bunker?” His voice met Dean’s ears like a long lost prayer and the hunter sighed. 

  “Yeah! How is Y/n?” Cas froze, his face scrunched up in confusion. 

   “What do you mean? I thought she was with you?!” 

  “Why the hell would she be with us?! Isn’t she your soulmate or whatever?” 

 Castiel felt his heart drop. 

The Sky'd Be Falling And I'd Hold You Tight 

And There Wouldn't Be A Reason Why 

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you…” Jack mumbled from his seat at the dinner table. Y/n felt a lump grow in her throat as she forced back tears. 

  “Don’t worry Jack, sweetheart…” She looked to the ceiling as she viciously fought her tears.

 “Castiel, he didn’t want to. But it was the only way. It seems selfish, but it’s not. He saved so many. I really wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. He made me promise…” Jack let his head fall to the table, his mind not at unease. 

 “I would have found out sooner or later.”  

  We Would Even Have To Say Goodbye

  “You are the biggest idiot I’ve ever met.” Y/n spat as she slammed the car door, the force shaking the whole vehicle. Castiel didn’t even flinch as he watched her walk from the parked car to the small lakefront just beyond the car. He felt his heart ache as she sat on a small bench and placed her head in her hands. 

  “I know…” He whispered to the empty car. 

If The World Was Ending You’d Come Over Right? 

“The Empty will take you.” She sobbed as she looked to the water in front of her. Castiel stood behind her, his own eyes filling with tears. “Take you the next time you feel joy.” She laughed, a last stitch effort to mask her pain. “How- How the fuck am I supposed to live with that?” She spun around to look at him, and he saw first hand just how much pain he had caused her. 

Right?

“But that was months ago Castiel.”  He tried to take a step towards her but she stood. 

“Months ago! And you're still here!”  She let a few sobs rack her chest as she looked down, tears falling like rain. 

   “Y/n…” 

 “So…  Since that day when you sold yourself over. Everything we’ve done. All the moments we had, that filled me with an immeasurable amount of love and joy… You’re still here. So...” She looked at him, her pain turning to hurt, turning to anger. 

 “You're not happy?” 

If The World Was Ending You’d Come Over Right?

Castiel held the phone to his ear, his mind blank. 

“Cas?!” Dean shouted on the other line, “Cas?!” 

Right?