#idk if ill get a chance to draw it but perhaps one day

[gambeque]

Off The Hook 90's r&b girl group au 👍

[mxvladdy]

Diavolo- True Form

Whoooooooo weeeee! ‘Pologies for the wait on these longer posts. I’ve been hit with a one two punch of house emergencies and sudden costly ass repairs, so my creative juices have been rightly squashed as of late.

Plus side I got my drawing tablet and drafting table back so I can neaten up my blog lay out now (yay!) 

Anyway this one was a challenge in the best possible ways. I really like Diavolo because of how little we know about him so it gave me some wiggle room. Or at least what I know of him- im only on like chapter 23 of the stories. Idk if I did him justice as this is angsty af but I sure had a blast writing it!

Hope ya like! Next up: Beelzebub 

Trigger warning: Mention of blood, and swearing. 

Diavolo-

He'll never show you, so don't ask. His true form is god-like in its own right and such knowledge, such truly raw demonic power in its natural form is not for your mortal eyes.

No matter what your lineage, it would break you. And despite his roles and being the literal devil, he doesn’t want you suffering.

Sometimes when he thinks you wouldn't notice he relaxes his hold on reality, just a fraction. He wants to relieve some of the tension that is always building just below the surface. Like closing your eyes when you have a tension headache. The mental energy he has to exert to keep face is enormous. Regular glamour doesn’t work nearly as well as his own, or Barbato’s magic.

But you see hints during your downtime spent in his company. A ripple in his reflection on the window pane. Unexplainable shadows dancing across his exposed skin. Too many teeth in his mouth when he laughs. Sometimes when you stare into his eyes you see something indescribable staring back behind them. His usually warm and inviting gaze darkening. A barest flicker, a hulking bestial thing kept locked behind in his golden gaze. It's enough to freeze the blood in your veins.

On certain nights when you can slip away from the brothers you stay in his room. Lying  awake, you watch his magic wane and shift as he slumbers. Sometimes you see runes, or at times letters. You are tempted to write them down and ask Solomon. But something stops you each time.

The worst images are the faces. Unknown souls trapped beneath his flesh clawing to be freed. Silent screams fading back into his body as he dreams. Your fragile fingers trace the patterns they leave as you wait for the next day wrapped in his embrace.

Only once have you seen more of his form then he would ever wish. The depths of his strength and mental fortitude were unknown to you so the slip up took you both by surprise. He masks the error well, but the sudden shift in energy in the room couldn’t be suppressed .

You are suddenly so aware of the oppressive weight of gravity on your frame. Your bones grinding together under the force of his aura. You panic, desperate by the need to breathe, but are unable to draw even the smallest bit of oxygen as it is robbed from the room. Time and reality wrapped too, distorting in ways only you thought only Barbatos could do. You knew in that moment the sudden dread of death, how mortally was but a rusty shackle tethering you down.

He collects himself, dispelling the energy and locking his glamour down tight to protect you. But that split second of fury felt like an eternity to you as you sink to the floor. You hiccup a shaky sob and shiver. Your fragile human mind bowing under the strain of what it cannot comprehend. Scolding hot tears fall from your cheeks, before splashing crimson the stone below you.

You didn't approach him again for over a month. No matter how strong you are, some things were better off unseen.

Mini Fic

He didn’t know. For once in his ancient pitiful existence, he had been unaware of his surroundings. It had been for just a moment, one tiny crack in his veneer. The foolishness of Mammon and Belphegor’s actions finally poked the right nerve. He wouldn’t hurt them, for Lucifer’s sake. That prideful demon would never forgive him if he did. But he could scare them. A quick look at his true self; a flash of the deepest bowels of hell. Enough to give them a reminder of their positions and standing in his court. He had expected their whimpers of fear, could taste the acidic tinge of it exuding from their pores. What he didn’t expect though was your blood curdling screams alongside.

Ironically, he would have to thank the second eldest later. His fast thinking is the only thing that saved you from complete damnation. His body shielded yours, taking the brunt of the stronger daemons hellish might for you. What little magic Mammon still had left used to protect you. Though, while your vision was blocked, you could still feel his oppressive presence. It racked your mortal flesh. Diavolo knew what affects his power had on humans. He spent years breaking and consuming damned souls with zeal after all.

The brothers had run from him after that, screaming for Simone. Barbatos following close behind, a look of consternation on his usually impassive face. You had been so limp in Mammon's arms. Diavolo could do nothing, shocked by his own weak will and realization that he might have ruined everything. You had been whisked away so quickly by his faithful servant and the brothers that he hadn’t had a chance to look you over himself. But the brief moment he saw will haunt him for years to come. Your eyes red from the sudden haemolacria, the blood staining your clothes and face. Your fingers digging away at your soft skin, black and purple blotches staining what he could see. Mouth opened wide on a silent scream. He knew what you must have seen. The souls of the damned trapped under his glamour breaking free to latch on to your unmarred soul trying to drag you back with them.

Against his butler's advice he stands at your door now days later trying to see you. He couldn’t sit around and just hear updates second hand. The brothers had been keeping guard most days in a valiant attempt to keep him away. But he could only be waylaid for so long before he used his rank against them.

He had arranged a full council meeting. Every one of the brothers knowing full well it was to get them out of his way. Yet, the order was absolute. This time none of the brothers could reject it. Barbatos would keep them in that room for eternity if he so wished for it. He hated using his age and power against them, but he saw no other way to get to you.

It was foolish now, standing as he was in front of your door. A part of him hoping you would turn the knob and let him in. Let him comfort you for once, instead of the asinine distractions the brothers offered. He could help too. Hells, he wanted to. He wanted to be closer to you. Power discrepancy be damned. The other part of him knowing it was for the best that you didn’t. Your guardian and tormentor all in one. He listens to your muffled sobs for a moment fighting with his feet to stay cemented to the floor instead of heading back in defeat.  

"When my father was still around he took me down to the deepest depths of the kingdom. Where the worst of the traitors and sinners are imprisoned." His deep baritone rumbles through your door during a break in your crying. "It’s a place few seldom go; even now I have yet to return. Back then he told me ‘there will never be a human soul that is undeserving of punishment. Even the ones destined for the celestial realm are tethered to sin.’ At that time I believed him. The things I saw in your realm... " The prince chuckles wearily.

He remembers the ever present scowl on the old King's face. His dark eyes looking out at the sea of damned souls he controlled. Even as a young daemon, fresh into his wings and still sharpening his horns to impress others he could tell how much his father detested his position. How it had warped him, turning him bitter and cold, even to his mate and only child.

Diavolo never wanted to be like that. Not to the ones he supposedly cared for at the very least. "I think that is why he hated the other realms so much.” He continued. “Humans, for their ability to choose which realm they would eventually end up in after they pass. That even the worst sinners could find redemption enough at the last moment to get to the pearly gates. While daemons, no matter how well they served, or the duties they did for the good of their own would never be seen as equals to our celestial counterparts or yours. That this existence is all we'll ever be destined to have. Nightmares and monsters, stories to tell little human children to keep them in line.” He pauses, collecting himself. “I believed wholeheartedly that every human deserved the punishments only my kind could dowel out. But, in this past year I have spent with you, I find myself changing. You are so undeserving of such torment. Somehow you are understanding and forgiving beyond measure to us. You handle our ill tempers with such grace. For daemons such as us, it is staggering, and humbling. I regret that I have hurt you so deeply and have broken your trust. I swear it as the head of this realm I would never intentionally do so." He looks at the door handle willing it to open. " I am so sorry."

Your crying picks up again. Huge heaving sobs that rattle your chest. Great Father, he just keeps making it worse. Clearing his head Diavolo turns.

Rejection of this nature was new to him. No one had ever dared to ignore him, especially such as this. The royal in him- his father's blood- seethed that he would even stoop so low as to grovel to a short lived thing like yourself. Even deeper yet, it demanded another taste of your essences. You little soul kept safe behind your rib cage. He wanted it added to his collection, kept tucked away deep within his maws.

It was sick; it was wrong. He chokes on the idea. The intrusive thought burrowing deep. How deplorable was he? Perhaps the angels were right to keep him out of heaven.

You didn't show to class the following day, or the days after. Unsurprising to him and the seven of the inner council. He figured the other day wouldn’t change anything. But it was utter agony to him. These days trapped in his office only getting short and curt updates on your health from Lucifer. It had been a special kind of torment.

Today he sat once again at his desk staring at some godforsaken bitching of a royal cousin. He knew this whelp. Some backwater thrice removed eons ago. Yet he was demanding an audience? The gall. The ink of their eligible handwriting makes him cross eyed. Would this day ever cease? He looks to his hourglass, the sands within seemingly frozen in time.

"My Lord, perhaps you should take a moment to stretch your legs?" Barbatos moved from his corner. Gloved hand coming to rest on top of the same three lines he had been reading for the past two hours. "This work could wait another evening I’m certain ."

"Did I do the right thing my friend?" Diavolo doesn't even bother answering the question his servant posed. They both knew he wouldn't. "This program. Our human exchange students. Solomon is one thing, but-"

"Your will and path is absolute." Barbatos states. "There are no mistakes within you, merely stumblings onto different paths."

With a gentle push Barbatos moves the hulking demon out of his way to collect and organize the scrolls and letters scattered about the large desk. "You made the right choice bringing them here. Look at what they have done. They are entertainment to you are they not?"

The prince rose knocking his desk aside and descended on his butler. His true form out in all its unholy glory now. His highly condensed magic distorting the study as if he was a black hole. The axis of the room shifts. His priceless collection of books and toys disintegrating from the cold radiation he emits.

It was all for show really. There was nothing he could do to an ancient being such as Barbatos. So he lashed out, throwing a tantrum in the security of his office. The hopeless agitation he felt fueling the flames of his rage. His butler had only added holy water to his already festering wounds.

Barbatos had been by his side for time in memoriam. The crafty bastard had helped raise him. Had shaped him into the ruler he was today. If anyone could break and remold him it would be his oldest companion.

The dark haired daemon waited for the waves of agitation to dry up. Moving only when the prince was in his more presentable demonic form. Large barrel chest heaving as he reined himself in. “Are you back to your senses?” He asks coolly, already categorizing the items to replace and furniture to be mended.

"I had not meant for it to go like this."  Diavolo croaks into his hands collapsing back on what remained of his desk. Building a bridge between realms, yes. That noble idea was the greater purpose of this program, but the rest of it. The classes, and dances. The parties where he threw his newest toys about to see how they would react to things other mortals worshiped? That had been for his own curiosity and amusement. Lesser beings navigating a foreign world blind to the dangers that were right under their very nose. Bring a mortal with no magic into his realm? Deep down he knew this was an inevitability. Especially with the freedoms he granted them. He just didn’t think he would get so attached.

“No one believes that you would hurt them on purpose.” His butler cuts off his downward spiral. “It would ruin the program. That is what you are so stressed about, right?” Barbatos eyes him skeptically. Diavolo, himself, and Lucifer had spent many sleepless weeks constructing and negotiating this program. If the Arch Angels heard a mortal was hurt down here it could very well end this little escapade. But the look in the prince’s eyes told a different story.

A warm glow emanated from his cheeks and he was unable to meet the old daemon’s gaze. Ah. "Or perhaps things have changed?" Barbatos smiles coyly up from beneath his bangs. "You are your mother's son after all. Neither of you were ever able to stem your bleeding hearts for long." Diavolo squawked indignantly but didn’t argue. Instead he merely turns a darker shade of red and curses under his breath.

He skipped out on court that evening. Not that he cared much. The other nobles would no doubt use the time to gossip about his whereabouts and uncouth behavior of late. Truth be told, he was avoiding the brothers more than anything else. They had made it expressly clear (some more then others) how they felt about him currently. He wouldn't doubt that Belphegor had a few more brothers on his side now.

Instead he stood at your door once more with a tea tray in hand. He had bumped into Simone on the way. The angel had come to bring you dinner and to check up on the last of your wounds. Celestial magic worked miracles on those who have been touched by the darker arts. Diavolo was grateful for his talents. And, by some miracle, Simone had made it abundantly clear he was not going to bring this to the higher ups on his end either.

Upon seeing the prince slinking up the house's stairwell the other man had simply smiled and offered him the tray. “I suddenly got a message from Luke. Could you perhaps drop this by our friend’s door?” Diavolo had accepted without preamble, large hands dwarfing the platter of little tea cakes and sandwiches. The young cherubs work no doubt. His cooking was a fine treat, and a great incentive to at least open the door.

“Hello again.” He knocks twice. “I just wanted to check in on you. I know I am the last person you wish to see but I was hoping to talk?” Silence greets him. Were you awake? He breathes deeply and focuses on picking up your vitals. You were up, your heart thumping steady somewhere in the room. That was good. “I also have dinner for you. Simone had an urgent matter to attend to so he- for better or worse- entrusted this to me.”

Diavolo searches hopelessly for something else to say. He couldn’t just leave the food and go. He needed to see you. “I don’t plan on staying long today. I understand when I am not wanted, but I cannot help myself but be worried for you. Perhaps this is just me contritioning, because I know I caused this. The amount of times I have been called a ‘ass’ by Solomon over this have been staggering.” He rambles. After another bout of silence from your end he coincides. “I see- I will leave the food by the door and let you rest.” Defeated he puts the food down and turns to leave.

The door clicks open slowly. One bloodshot eye peeking through the crack. “Oh mio piccolo mortale.” He loses his grip on your shared tongue at a loss. You looked- you must have been in the hall longer then he or the brothers had known. Such damage couldn’t be done in a few moments. Your skin was healing as nicely as Lucifer had said, but the deep purple scarring still remained on the surface. The burn pattern of it all was random. Twisting wounds that reflected an oily sheen from the light of the hallway. “I-.”

“I know-” You cut him off with a raised hand. “and I feel as though I owe you an apology too.” Your voice was so weak and shaky. A mockery of your normally strong and jovial tone. Hearing you laugh at school had brightened the dreary halls. He hadn’t realized it until you weren't there.

“You owe me nothing.” Diavolo says in earnest. He watches you contemplate your next words before throwing whatever you were going to say away.

“Would you like to come in?” Your eyes drop to the tray. “Luke always makes more than I can eat.”

“I don’t think that would be wise.” He backs out. All his plans crashing and burning around his feet. His actions had been irreparable.

“Perhaps not,” You open the door wider taking the tray and heading to your side table, leaving him no room to argue. “But then again, being a lamb among such wolves as yourself and the brothers isn’t smart either.” You meant it as a joke but he couldn’t even muster a chuckle. It was true. Gods. “Dia-” You approach him again but falter at the last second.

As much as you wanted to be close to him again the memories were still so fresh in your mind. The cold hell fire of his magic ensnaring you, searing your skin. The whispered words of sinners long since past still echoing in your head, all in languages you’ve never heard before. The worst though had to be the screaming. Lost souls begging for help. Some sounded so familiar…You shutter involuntarily.

You wanted to hate him for this. Curse him for putting you through this pain. But how much could you blame him? Or any of them? They were daemons. Whether he meant to hurt you or not, it truly had only been a matter of time before it happened. It would be hypocritical of you to fear or hate him forever over this. Six of the seven brothers have threatened your life before, and you have forgiven them. Hell, one of them actually killed you. What’s more was that Diavolo’s wrath hadn’t even been directed at you.

Wrong place at the right time; seemed to be your forte. “Please, come in.” You repeat again firmer than before mustering up either courage or sheer human stupidity to order him in. You couldn’t tell the difference anymore. “We need to talk.”  

He enters, following at your heel like a lost puppy. All air of princedom gone as you clicked the door shut. Diavolo fiddles with his hands, old habits from childhood coming with his nerves. He didn’t know what to expect anymore. Yelling? Some kind of beratement? A plea to go home and never look back?  He would let you.

You pass by him, giving him a large berth of space to get to your seat. “Tea?”  

Diavolo jerks his head to you. He had forgotten momentarily the plate of food he had used to get access to you. You smile sheepishly pushing it and a plate of sweets towards him with your unbandaged knuckles. He doesn’t move till your hand retracts back to your lap. You jerk your head to the open seat waiting for him. You weren’t going to take no for an answer.

“I- thank you.” The daemon sits making himself as small as possible in the straight back chair. He takes the porcelain and drinks mindlessly. The scalding hot tea doing little to help the tightness of his throat, but it did thaw some of the ice in his mind.

“Are-how…” He fumbles so unsure of what to do next. “I see you’ve been keeping up with your school work.” Diavolo closes his eyes, wincing internally at his words. That’s what he comes up with? Idiotic.

You smile anyway, eyeing the massive pile of books and paperwork spewn about your bed. “Yeah. I’ve taken to doing my school work with Levi in his room. Mammon and Beel are nice enough to drop it off to the teachers when they are due.” He nods. He knew this of course. But it was nice to hear it from you. But yet, you don’t meet his eyes. Far too afraid to see what hid behind them.

The thought of being dragged back into those dark depths again makes your pulse quicken. You instead stare at your nail beds, finding them more interesting. They were purple now. The nails stained black by the contact with his magic. “Will- will that go away?” He asks. Demonic curses or taints were nigh impossible to remove fully. Disgustingly, he hoped they didn’t. Then your nails would match his. The darker depths of his soul coo at the idea, happy that in a small way every daemon would know your his. Not as good as a pact, but as close as he could get to being a part of your little mortal life.

“I’m not sure.” You reply honestly bringing your hands up to place them on the table. “Simone and Solomon have done what they could. But, it is as good as it’s going to get for now. They say it could fade with time.” You look up at him, eyes gazing to the left of his face. “Luke thinks I should see a stronger angel.” Diavolo winces, the thought stung, and terrified him. “I told him no.”

That surprised him. This was your chance. The celestial realm had been skeptical from the beginning. If they knew, it would be a perfect caveat for them to step in. “Why?” Finally you look at him. The fear was still there. Hesitation evident in your eyes. Yet you forced yourself to look at him, fighting through your trepidation.

“Did you mean what you said earlier? About your father and what you think of me?”

“Of course.” He replies without hesitation reaching for your cold hands. You flinch but don’t move away. It felt-nice. His warmth chasing away the perpetual chill that covered your fingertips. Idly you stroke his strong hands with your thumbs.

“Then, I think we can work on this privately.” Slowly but surely you felt like you could fix this. Not for the program, but for yourself.  

[maplecornia]

chapter 25

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.19K

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst | bts x female!reader | ot7

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: You watched them from the sidelines ever since you were a young teenage girl. Now you’re grown up, they’ve returned after 2 long years and everything has changed. What happens when you pull back the mask and find the darkness within? What happens when you see that they’re broken?

𝔞/𝔫: idk about you, but i really like this chapter, i think it's super FLUFFY

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: cliffhangers | angst | fluff | slight mentions of self hatred | depression | mental health illness | self harm | occurs in the year 2024 | set in a timeline where BTS went to the military together | slight language

tags: @kookaine | @fangirl125reader | @kookiebbyxx | @taradevonne | @rae-bear |@mangminnie | @pixiekooo

"You're an idiot."

"How was I supposed to know it was that high?! You're lucky I didn't drop your cake."

You smile, you can't help it. Spending the day with him wasn’t as bad as you thought it was. The time at the cafe was enjoyable, even when he decided it was a smart idea to try and climb on top of a wall, you found yourself content and happy.

It was definitely better than being alone.

"If you did, you wouldn't be standing." You mutter, trying to keep your voice smooth and calm. He lets out a soft gasp, turning to you in mock fear.

"You're scary."

"Maybe." You purse your lips, but can't keep the sly grin from spreading on your face.

When he asked you to spend time with him, you didn't imagine that it would be this fun. He took you to a cafe, and as soon as you started talking it was as though the two of you had known each other for years. Glancing over at him, you study his features just like you did the first time you saw him across the hall.

He's the type of person you feel comfortable with, someone you can rely on.

"You know what I just realized?" he says, pausing in the middle of the sidewalk. You turn to him, raising your brow.

"What?" You ponder when he doesn't finish his thought right away.

"We never introduced ourselves." You chuckle as he runs up to you before holding out his hand. Looking at it with a skeptical look, you hesitate before taking it.

"My name is Hwang Sunoh, it's a pleasure to meet you, madam."

You smirk, shaking your head at his overdramatized accent.

"I'm Yen Lin...well I suppose here you'd call it like, Lin Yen." You respond and can't help but smile at his giddy grin.

"It's nice to meet you."

Hwang Sunoh.

It's surprising how just yesterday, he was someone who had dampened your day. Now, he's able to bring a smile on your face without hardly lifting a finger. You can't help but feel a bit free. When you're around people like him, things just seem so easy. It's hard for you to remember that there was a time when you didn't feel this way.

It's hard for you to realize that the world can be cold.

Releasing him, you turn to start on your path home but freeze.

Your heart begins pounding, your palms turning cold as you notice the figure standing in front of your apartment complex. Shocked, you step back a bit, trying to make out his facial features, but his back is to you.

"It can't be..." You murmur under your breath.

There's no chance it can be him, can it?

Memories of the day on the bridge. The moments where he held your hand. That faint crinkle to the sides of his eyes when he smiled...The body is the same, the hair has the same curl, his jawline holds the same flawless curve.

Sunoh looks from you to the stranger with curiosity.

"Do you know him?" he questions, peering into your face, but you don't answer. You can't answer. Your throat has gone dry and you find that it's hard for you to breathe.

What if it is him? What would you do then?

You never thought you'd see him again, but what happens if he found you?

Swallowing hard, you walk forward, but the figure turns around and you balk, freezing once more.

It's not him, but someone else.

Someone even more surprising.

"Tae?"

Once he catches sight of you, he rushes forward, pocketing his phone.

But why? Why is he here?

As he draws closer, you can see that his eyes are locked on you, that he doesn't pay much attention to anything else. His eyes are full of worry, and his brow is furrowed with resolution. For a moment, you forget about Sunoh standing next to you, you forget about everything else. Once more, it's only you and him.

His feet pounding as he reaches a stop next to you, he takes you by the shoulders and lowers his face so that he's eye to eye with you. Eyes wide, you blink at him, forgetting to breathe for a moment.

"Are you okay?!" Confused, you don't answer him at first. Taking that as a bad sign, he begins to examine you, looking up and down for any injury, any scar, anything to show that you had been hurt in some way. Pressing his hand to your forehead to check for a fever, he growls a bit in frustration. "You weren't answering your phone, do you know how worried I was?!"

Taehyung?

Worried about you?

Someone tell me I'm dreaming.

Stunned, all you can do is look at him, unable to move an inch. Sunoh, extremely confused, looks between you and Taehyung, trying to piece two and two together. For one, why is an idol fussing over you as though you were a lost kitten? For another, how did you know a member from the most renowned and respected group in Korea?

Smiling a bit to himself, he can't help but chuckle.

Yen, you're more impressive than I thought.

That small sound catches Taehyung's attention.

As soon as he realizes the two of you have company, he pulls away, his grip tightening on you almost protectively. He turns to Sunoh, his brow furrowing with foreign hostility. At the reaction, Sunoh steps back a little, chuckling nervously.

"Ah...hello?" he mumbles, but all Tae does is raise his eyebrow, unamused.

"Who is this?" he asks you, and you finally wake up, turning to your new friend. Eyes wide, Sunoh looks to you as though you are the only one who can save him.

"Oh, he's my friend." You answer for him, edging a bit closer to him so that Taehyung doesn't attack. Nodding to him, he smiles nervously and holds out his hand once more, introducing himself.

"I'm Hwang Sunoh, nice to meet you."

Taehyung doesn't say a thing, doesn't even take his hand. He looks at it as though it were a thing he found in the trash and regards Sunoh with an icy glare. Apprehensive, Sunoh chuckles weakly, and pulls back from him, rubbing his neck.

"Uhm...Sunoh, why don't you go on ahead? I'll get my things later, okay?" You say, offering him an escape and he takes it gratefully. Stepping back a bit, he bows to Taehyung before making a break for the complex. You chuckle a bit at his frantic flee before turning back to Taehyung.

He's not really looking at you, his gaze distant and almost respondent. Confused, you squirm underneath the uncomfortable silence, wondering what exactly he needs. Why he's here. Biting your bottom lip, you try to catch his eye, but he avoids it.

"What was that about?"

At your voice, he looks up, his eyes dark and unreadable. For a moment, you wonder if he's upset, and it makes you a bit frustrated. What is there to be upset about?

"Who is he?" he asks again, his voice deep and demanding. Biting the inside of your cheek in annoyance, you cross your arms. Just because he's having a bad day doesn't mean that he has to take it out on you.

"He's my neighbor..." Once you realize you're giving in to his tantrum, you shake your head. "Why does it matter? What's wrong?"

He looks at you with those eyes, causing you to lose your cool and almost squirm under his gaze. But you don't look away, what is there to be ashamed of? You didn't do anything wrong. Rolling your eyes, you shake your head and brush past him.

If he's not going to say anything then there is no reason for you to stay.

Taehyung rolls his eyes at your stubbornness and grabs you by the arm, turning you around. You open your mouth, ready to say an angry retort, but with one fierce look, he shuts you up. Taking your hand, he pulls you behind him. You try to pull away, only managing to when he stops.

"Kim Taehyung, what the hell do you think you're doing?" You demand, but all he does is offer you a sideways glance before turning to the sunset.

"Look." He murmurs, and you narrow your eyes at him before obliging.

You let out a small gasp, finding it hard to breathe. How can you when met with beauty such as this? He smiles at your expression, his eyes tender and affectionate.

"I wanted to show you." He explains, even though he knows that you can hardly hear him.

He has taken you to the small overlook in front of your complex. It offers the two of you a beautiful scene of the sun setting on the Han River. It's almost as if the sea is swallowing it, melting it into a palette of oranges and reds almost as if it were the mere paints dripping from a canvas. Smiling, you step forward until you reach the bar that protects you from falling over the edge.

Turning to him, you regard him with curious eyes.

"You came here just to show me this?"

Blinking, he doesn't answer you at first. He doesn't know what to say. If he were to say the truth, that his mind was clouded and he needed to find a way to clear it. If he said that he wanted to see you because you were the only one who could free him from the voices that continue to tell him he's not enough. If he said that he came to remove you from his mind...

What would you do then? Would you still look at him the same? Or would he lose you all over again?

Clearing his throat, he tears his eyes away from you. Perhaps this way, it will be easier to lie.

"No, I came because I was worried." He mumbles. Noticing your confused expression, he sighs, running his hands through his wind-kept hair. "You weren't answering your phone."

For a moment, as the sun catches his face, you're distracted from the beauty nature has to offer you. Instead, you focus on him. A beauty that is impossible to describe in mere words. A beauty that is impossible to touch, impossible to keep, for fear that it would be lost as soon as you touched it. It's like the light. Though you may try to hold it in your fingertips, after a while, it slips away. It always slips away, it never stays.

He will never stay.

Swallowing the growing lump in your throat, you turn away. It hurts too much. In some ways, this is worse than when he was a country away. When he didn't know you existed. At least then, you knew that you had no chance of losing yourself to someone you'll never meet. But now...

Now he's so close, but he feels so far away.

Will it always be this way?

Will you always have that impenetrable wall between the two of you?

Where he will always be the idol, and you will always be the fan?

In the distance, you can spy the same bridge that you met him on. The same bridge where your world was changed. Turning to the man beside you now, you entertain the thought that he's the real man in the mask. Smiling at the notion, you chastise yourself. It can't be him.

After all, the universe can't be that kind.

"Taehyung?" you murmur, hoping he doesn't catch the thickness in your voice, or the lump threatening to break.

"Hm?" he responds absentmindedly, and you close your eyes at the sound of his voice behind you. If you wish hard enough, will the two of you be able to stand side by side as equals?

Or will he forever be that far?

"Why did you give me your number?"

The question catches him off guard, and he opens his eyes, turning to look at you. Though your back is to him, it's wracked with tension and unspoken words. Almost as though you were preparing to be let down.

Again.

He bites his bottom lip, trying to choose the best words to say to you. When he notices the way you clench and unclench your hands at the sound of silence, he smiles softly before stepping forward.

Standing close, mere inches away from you, he takes your hand gently in his fingertips. Before you have a chance to pull away, he brushes his lips lightly across your knuckles. Speechless, you find your heart constricting with unimaginable longing.

After a moment, he raises his eyes to yours, his lips still pressed against your skin. A sultry look, you find your breath shortening, your heartbeat fluttering an unheard tune. He smiles at your wide, innocent eyes before lowering your hand and using his to brush back your hair.

"Well, we're friends. Aren't we?" he responds, his hand resting on your cheek for a moment before he releases you and steps away.

Always a considerable distance apart.

From the moon and the star.

𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢: you know even though love alarm was the worst thing since tomatoes, i still couldn't help putting the characters in the story ;-;

chapter 26 here

check the Infinite Stars masterlist for more chapters

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[letterstomilen]

the death of rex lapis (hopefully)

Zhongli, Vampire Alternative Universe (warning: this is mainly expositional bc ive had fun playing around w the idea of how zhongli would be if he was a vampire so idk where this’ll go! there is some childe/zhongli but not much!! anyways happy birthday zhongli i love you :) Zhongli does not make a good vampire. 

Immortality is meant to make you smart.

But what people forget is that you don’t live that long because of wits. Immortality does not mean you are capable; it means that you were foolish enough to get bitten and didn’t think much of it later.

He wasn’t clever when he was held by Guizhong, who smiled sweetly at him as she looked at him, her hair brushing against his skin and cold hands curling the ends of his hair. And certainly not sharp when he failed to notice that her heart wasn’t beating and she seemed to look more at his neck— ”You have a very fine neck,” she informed him when he asked, and he nodded, assuming that it was one of those things sculptors just happened to notice—than his eyes for the majority of the night.

Whether it was out of guilt or disinterest, he doesn’t know. Zhongli would like to think that it was out of guilt, because prior to the night, they were friends. And after she bit his neck, she held him in her arms, whispering story after story as he stuck by fever.

The pain was unimaginable. First—there was shock. And then minutes later, while he wondered why the room smelled more like sweat and blood than incense, he realized that he was still held down.

This must be what quarry feels like, he thought then. But now he knows otherwise; prey would never be held so gently and lay there limply if they could help it. He, while being drained every bit of life, was a willing, sitting duck.

That was before the pain, of course. When she finally let go of him to wash her face—he recalls this clearly: her wiping her face, then licking the blood off her hands with the relish of a child on her birthday, before leaving to the bathroom—he laid there paralyzed. It was, he’s discovered, a bit like being drunk.

Only that the alcohol left his insides in unimaginable pain for days on end. He stumbled when he tried to stand; babbled as he struggled to speak. Even now he only remembers brief flashes of it, when he tore the skin on his arm with his newly grown canines, or hours of rejecting food that he could not quite stomach.

In reality, he was a child—a baby, really, if you were being blunt about it. The weeks that followed were horrendous and perhaps it’s a blessing that he spent the majority of them inhibited, the metamorphosis shedding every part of him that he was comfortable with. But as the days went on, the pain gave way to numbness and numbness gave away to strength.

And when he finally regained enough consciousness to form a coherent sentence, he asked Guizhong why she did it. She, with the certainty of somebody that’s lived for longer than he had, answered, “Well, you’ve always been interested in how the world would change after you were gone. Isn’t this now your chance to witness it?”

Fanaticism with history and predictions could only get you so far. To witness it—wasn’t that just a dream? And because he assumed that rocks were eternal and could not erode back then, he nodded in agreement.

It was a mistake.

Six hundred years ago, Zhongli underestimated the length of his lifetime. One day he’d be talking to somebody about their newborn and it would only be a blink later where their newborn was six feet under, hailed for having a long and blessed life. (What made a blessed life? It couldn’t have been the years –he concluded that every year he was more cursed than before.) Relationships were scarce because he forgot that not everybody experienced time the same way he did.

Days, contrary to his belief, were not fleeting seconds but rather twenty-four hours long. They composed of both the night and day, waking and sleeping hours instead of mindless walks that ended with him apologizing profusely before his fangs were embedded deep into somebody’s throat.

Somebody suggested for him to just do it in an alley and leave them there to be found at morning. But that was too disrespectful—uncouth even. He preferred to invite them into his home, graciously taking their coat and ushering them inside to a table filled with food. Venti always commented on how polite he was to the very end, taking extra care to cook food that he knew they liked—“Last meal before execution, huh?” he’d comment. “Very romantic.”—and making them comfortable until the very end.

That’s not how it started of course.

He tried starving himself at first—much to Osial’s amusement. On a night out, where Zhongli was more attuned to the heat and beating hearts of the people around him than the delicacies laid out, Osial took it a step further by passing him a cup with a thick, maroon liquid that sloshed around in it.

It smelled finer than the silk flowers that littered the gardens, and when he took the cup, he felt one step closer to the damnation Guizhong always spoke of. The worst part was that it didn’t churn his stomach—instinctually, he felt more delighted than he ever felt, a smile cracking his worn face as he inspected the goblet. Only when did he take note of Osial’s smug expression, the glint in his eyes that reminded him of an elusive professor, and the way he watched him carefully the way a parent would watch a child take its first steps, did he hesitate.

It wasn’t benign; it was as if he expected him to trip and fall over after attempting to take his first steps, taking pleasure in both the failure and success. Because both would end with Zhongli crossing the line one way or another, wouldn’t it? And there was nothing more enjoyable than sadism to somebody that’s seen it all already.

Right now he is fighting a losing battle. But he would rather starve than lose it here, so he hands the cup back to him, feeling a little more of his willpower crack.

Animal blood, by all accounts, is disgusting. It’s oily and sometimes he’d get sick, ending the night more ravenous than ever as if his skin were tightening around itself. You couldn’t just drink it—especially if you didn’t know where the animal has been. First you had to kill it neatly—a quick breaking of the neck would suffice, as strangulations were often drawn out—and then you had to clean it.

There was something almost humane in the process. Countless butchers have done it before, so he felt comfortable doing it himself.

It was only when he sunk his teeth into the carcass that he felt more like a vulture than anything else. The blood only staved off his hunger for short periods, so it was more of a painkiller than a sufficient meal.

And Osial found the whole thing to be hilarious.

“How unfortunate. If only Guizhong didn’t choose somebody that insisted on drinking animal blood, then it’d be more enjoyable. You know—if you open your mouth a little wider, you’ll look a bit more like the starving beast you are.” Then he dipped a finger in the cup and licked it as if it were chocolate, sweet and rich.

“Yes… Perhaps I should move onto better things. Do you think vampire blood is like wine? Or would age spoil its taste? I imagine that to a starving beast, there would be no difference—no matter how rotten your blood is, it’s still blood after all.”

Osial laughed and spit the blood out. “Well, you’re not wrong. This animal blood may be disgusting, but to you, what’s the difference?”

He wore his cruelty like a well-fitting suit, the creases shaped like ill-natured grins. Zhongli wondered if that will be him hundreds of years from now, but maybe Osial was always this unpleasant. Guizhong spoke of him the way somebody would talk about their ill-tempered cousin—sure, he’s awful to be around but he’s been a part of the family for so long already.

At the very least, he can provide a good meal. The question will always be for who, and his appetite is insatiable concerning all matters. Some vampires preferred a more barbaric approach of finding somebody, killing them, and then throwing the body away. Others—like Osial—treated it more like a game, drawing it out.

Sometimes he’d target entire families and call it a “feast” inviting others to join him. They were gruesome affairs that ended with many drunk on blood for weeks at a time, and even though he never went to them, he always heard about them.

Directly from Osial of course. Who seems intent on highlighting every small detail, every bloody death or desperate guest that was less than willing in the end but, Osial would say with delight, weren’t they all? As a matter of fact—and here was when he’d bring Guizhong into it, dragging her out of her room with her blueprints and models—Zhongli was very willing, wasn’t he?

“Up until he realized that he had to drink blood,” he’d say, as if he finally reached the punchline for a joke—then Osial would throw his head back with laughter.

And it’s not as if he hadn’t before. Sometimes, if he hurt himself, he would’ve licked the blood. But that tasted metallic—it was nothing like the delicacies that other vampires would set out, naming the meals by age, defining trait (sexual activity, lifestyle, etc.), and gender.

It took him fifty years for his willpower to break down. And he did it in front of Barbatos, who simply watched as he drank, not speaking of the way Zhongli drunkenly rambled for hours on end nor the way blood trickled down his neck and stained his clothing.

The deaths after that were easier. It was almost disappointing how he managed to replicate what Guizhong did with such ease. When he set the serviette over their chest before sinking his teeth into their jugular, he felt just like her.

Only when did he clean them up before burying them did he truly feel at rest. At the time it felt like appropriate compensation—a substitute for the promise he failed to keep for himself. The whole ordeal of washing the blood out of their matted hair and drying it out as he laid them down alleviated the sense of unease.

Guizhong would often watch him while he did it, pointing out certain anatomical features as she did. Her hands would trace over their veins, pressing down on the blue as she spoke. Osial joined them once, but he was so perturbed by the attention Zhongli dedicated to the process that he left immediately.

That was centuries ago.

He, sometime down the line, traded in these rituals for slaughter and abandoned that for mimicking the human lifestyle.

Barbatos would say that it’s been badly done, of course. 

“You make the worst human,” he once said, as he watched Zhongli struggle to stomach garlic bread that he offered him.

 Which could be why he’s now cornered by a vampire hunter.

The Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is often frequented by vampires all around Teyvat—there are rumors of blood dealings with underground groups but the Milileth has never investigated it—and Zhongli, with no danger signals, happens to be one of them.

It doesn’t help that he works there too. The irony that all these years later he never quite rid himself of dealing with dead bodies isn’t lost on him.

And he did hear about the Fatui, because word about people hunting vampires travels fast in a country as busy as Liyue.

“Sir,” the vampire hunter informs him kindly, “you do know that this is a hub for vampires, right?”

The voice isn’t what shocks Zhongli. Neither is the maroon mask that’s hanging by the side of his head—one told to be notorious among only the most vicious of hunters—or the thin outlines of weapons in his clothes.

It’s his eyes. They’re a bright blue, usually associated with the sea on bright days, but they’re more akin to the vampires that Zhongli has seen before with the wild glint in his eyes. It’s jarring with the smile that he adopts as he asks, and he imagines opening his mouth to a pair of fangs.

He knows that he won’t find them though. If the rumors he hears are any indications, the Fatui are above recruiting any vampires that’ll threaten their operation.

“Ah. Yes. I do. I’m the consultant here, you see,” he explains politely.

And shouldn’t that be an indication that he’s a vampire? Hu Tao is notorious for her strange tastes. And he must know of the deals she makes with underground groups, the money and blood that’s traded between them.  

“Oh!” the hunter’s expression brightens as he clasps his hands together. “I heard about you! I got to say—when they told me that the consultant was knowledgeable on all things Rex Lapis, I was expecting an old man.”

He doesn’t wait to explain who Rex Lapis is. This, of course, is a given seeing that Rex Lapis has become a household name, infamous for his butchery of both vampires and humans alike. But a hundred years later, Zhongli hoped, people would forget about him—or maybe get rid of the fanaticism in their voices when they spoke about him.

It’s quite discomforting, really.

“Well, I am old.”

He laughs, “Yeah, yeah. You hardly look older than me. Call me Childe—I was hoping that you could, ah, answer a few questions I have on Rex Lapis. The 77th Master said that you’d be available and more than willing. She.. actually, here you go!”

Zhongli takes the paper he offers him, which says If you ask him anything, he’d be more than willing to spend the rest of the day answering it! in her rough cursive that he’s grown to dislike. Of course—the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor is not beneath fraternizing with vampires or the Fatui.

But he prefers this much more than the vampires that stare at him as they struggle to place him in their ancient hierarchy. And this does work in his favor, he thinks. A vampire hunter wants to know more about him, Rex Lapis—wouldn’t this aid him in finally meeting his end?

So he politely smiles and gives him back the note, not missing how warm Childe’s skin is in comparison to his own. It’s been years since he’s touched a human without the intention of killing them, hasn’t it?

More than suitable then.

“Of course. What would you like to know?”

[colour-outside-the-liness]

Hi Colour! How are you doing today? I don't know about doing meaningful things with my life, feel like I've just been surviving this entire time lol. However I am trying to figure it out and working on building the life I want to live and hopefully I will be able contribute to this world in some way.

I don't think I've ever played a game of trivial pursuit. Have never been to a pub either, not like the ones you have in the UK anyway. Just been to very dirty bars where me and my friends used to drink as much as we could afford, shared questionable food that could potentially make us sick the next day and there were no quizzes or games really haha. So your exp sounds way more fun! 😂

I'm glad you're giving the song a chance! Only Spotify knows how many times I've listened to it lol. I reckon Hozier's going to be my artist of the year for 2021. I love attributing works of art to Dani x Jamie, have a whole ass Pinterest board full with images of paintings, poetry, music and anything that I think relates to them really (yeah I know, I have a problem).

I love everything you've said about how Dani, Viola and the lady in the lake are alike, I hadn't really thought about their similarities before, but everything you've said makes perfect sense. I always saw Viola as a narcissist, even her drive to protect her child felt selfish in a way, don't know if you know what I mean. And when she fades away and becomes the lady she's just pure (almost animalistic) instinct while on auto pilot, bc she only remembers rage and abandonment, she takes anything on her path aggressively unless they're a child. So what she sees in Dani is not processed logically, right? It's pure instinct and emotions, so what she recognizes in her when Dani invites her in is the desperate need to protect this child, so she sees her as deserving. Perhaps she also saw in Dani and opportunity to escape this nightmare. Despite all her faults she didn't deserve what happened to her either.

And don't get me wrong, Jamie is so, so strong and solid and she is my favorite mostly bc I identify with her personality more than Dani's. But we know Jamie is all that even before we learn her story, and I feel like it is expected that she'll be the strong and brave one bc she's had to be that her entire life albeit unwillingly. But Dani? We expect her to break at any given point, I mean she is reaching her limit after all that's happened, with all the weight she's carrying. I remember thinking "Jesus, this girl needs help" when I first watched the show hahaha. But she fights every damn time, she doesn't run away and that's why I find her so fascinating. That's why I thought this song was so fitting. Even if Dani would never see herself that way. But it's Jamie's perspective (and fire signs tend to exaggerate everything 😂) so it feels fitting that she thinks so highly of her baby haha. Ugh I just wanted them to stay together forever. 🥺

Omg yes! I love how you refined this idea, good thing you're a writer and I'm not hahaha. And yeah I'm absolutely here for sapphics with weapons like holy shit imagine Jamie fighting with a sword? 🤤 I'm weak. Hahaha would be cool to see them in a pirate AU too! Maybe someone's already done it? Idk. But aaaah I want to see them in every possible universe hahaha. Makes me want to get back into drawing too. 😩

Aww you two sound like you have a lovely bond going on. Your niece sounds like the coolest! I started out drawing anime too when I was a kid and ended up doing graphic design for a living! How did learning how to draw anime style go for you today?

Hey I'm doing great thank you I hope you are too? I know that feeling because I feel like that's how I have made it to 27 just surviving (barely) and taking things one day at a time to get me to this point and hopefully I can contribute in some way even it its just a small way... so I totally get that feeling but I am sure you contribute so much without you even realising it!! Oh it's great but depending on how competitive the people you're playing with are it can get pretty heated... I've been in some heated games of it before because people just refuse to believe I know the answers to some of the questions and they think I've been cheating and have all but demanded I have another question asked instead of the one I got right... and pub quizzes can be fun again depending on the team you're in and how seriously you wanna take it I have been in teams where its been a serious thing and we have all desperately wanted to win and then I've been in teams and we've just had fun with it... all the pubs I go in are dirty bars too but sometimes they have pub quizzes... I have had many nights where I have drank what I can afford... one night me on my roommate went over board though and we ended up spending ALL our money even our taxi fair and we had to walk home in the dark along country roads with hardly any lights to guide us... because of how drunk we were it too us around 3-4 hours and I fell over a road sign and ended up in a ditch... I've had a lot of fun experiences but some really stupid ones as well... your experiences sound great though!! I would love that!! I listened to the song and I loved it so much!! I don't even wanna know what my most listened to artist will be this year... my money is on it being the Six musical soundtrack... probably All You Wanna Do from that musical I'll be surprised if it's anything else. I would love for it to be someone like Hozier, but ever since I have done my Spotify wrapped thing it's always been a musical of some kind that's been my number 1 song / artist haha I love doing the same thing. If I can make something fit Dani x Jamie I will like it doesn't even matter what it is haha... I don't think you have a problem I think that sounds so cool!! I have nothing like that. I just have a head full of random ideas screaming to be let out I agree Viola is definitely selfish and narcissistic and everything she did came from a place of anger and rage over the things that happened to her she fell in love and got married and had a child and saw her sister try and take that from her while she was ill and in the end her sister killed her. Like yeah, I do feel sorry for Perdita with the way she was treated but I do think everything Viola did was out of frustration over what was happening to her. Like you said she acts on auto pilot and only knows rage until it comes to children- because all she knows is she is looking for a child so when she saw Dani so selfless sacrifice herself for a child she saw a little bit of herself in Dani she knows Dani is a good person and she can relate to that protective streak and I think she did see Dani as deserving I definitely agree with everything you've said here. Viola might have had faults and flaws and who doesn't? But I definitely think she had it rough and did deserve better than she was given. I agree, you can tell looking at Jamie that she is strong and brave while Dani comes off as the exact opposite. But I think you see fully how brave they both are when Dani sacrifices herself for Flora and when Jamie offers to keep Dani company and loves her despite knowing she won't be able to love her forever. I love Jamie but definitely relate to Dani's personality more, there are a lot of things Dani does that I see myself in her because I have done those types of things myself and the whole beast in the jungle speech resonates with me so much and every time I watch the last episode and hear that speech I am a crying mess from that point on. It's funny that you thought that about Dani when you first watched it, because me and my sisters got my mum to

watch it and she said the same thing about Dani "she needs help" but then once told me she liked Dani because she reminded her of me that was an interesting conversation to be a part of "Dani needs help... but I like her she's like you." I was like "Thanks?" I agree this song is definitely more how Jamie would see Dani, I think Dani just has a very blasé view of herself, like I don't think she's self conscious or self deprecating in anyway but I think she sort of walks around like "this is me and this is just how I am" where as Jamie just sees Dani for how brave and strong and amazing she is- maybe even if as a fire sign she exaggerates a little bit haha Jamie just thinks Dani is the most amazing person in the world and I just know that Dani saw her the same way!! I really wanted them to be together forever... I am never going to emotionally recover from Bly Manor. Your idea was incredible and I think it would be a great story to read honestly that's the type of thing I live for!! OMG Jamie with a sword is just 🤤 🥵 I am all for sapphics and weapons of any kind!! There's this pirate AU which is absolutely amazing!! I don't know if you've read it or not but iamalekza writes some really great fics!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/28631598/chapters/70179306 ^^ Pirate AU I really wish I could draw I would love to be able to draw scenes from fics I have read and even ones I have written but I just don't have the skill set for that!! I would love to see other fan arts though I think drawing is such an incredible talent to have and I am in awe of anyone that can do it!! Me and my niece have a great bond, she's like a little mini me (despite almost being as tall as me). She is honestly such a cool kid I have a hell of a lot of fun with her- I'm looking after her again tomorrow and I have no idea what we're gonna do but we will figure something out... she's such a good drawer she's only just started doing it at the beginning of the year and she's really progressed with it... I however have not so I am definitely gonna need more practice. That's so cool that you started out doing anime drawing and then ended up going into a career in graphic design. Again that's a talent that I am just in awe of because it's just something I have never been able to do!!

[brief-candle]

αℓεα ιαcтα εsт - various kny x reader [1]

reuploaded bc my tumblr is being stinky >:(( update: still being stinky. for some reason this isn’t showing up in any tags no matter what i do and i’m so confused? bc the second chapter’s showing up??? idk :/

also was wondering if y’all would be interested in seeing some art that i do sometimes, bc i’ve kinda been getting back into drawing lately!

THIS IS A YANDERE SERIES. JUST SO YOU KNOW. I WILL WARN OF ANY TRIGGER WARNINGS IN FUTURE CHAPTERS, BUT THIS ONE’S NICE AND TAME!! TY FOR READING AND HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY!! <3

GENERAL OTHER STUFF TO KNOW BEFORE YOU READ: MC (READER) IS FEMALE; THERE IS A BUNCH OF CANON DIVERGENCE; MANGA-ONLY CHARACTERS WILL APPEAR IN LATER CHAPTERS, THOUGH I DON’T PLAN TO DEAL WITH ANY PLOT ELEMENTS THAT DON’T APPEAR IN THE ANIME.

edit: chapter 2 is out!!

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♫ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

The sun was high in the sky, beating down on the trio that were treading unfamiliar ground. The scenery looked very much like that which they'd seen countless times before, but that was to be expected to an extent. They were in the same country that they'd always been in, after all, however that didn't alleviate the sense that something was amiss in these parts. These parts that were so close to where they'd always been, yet seemed so completely and utterly different all at once.

"Tanjirou...!" One of them wailed, as usual. He was already a couple of paces behind, but had really began to drag his feet over the last couple of metres. Though this behaviour was very much usual for the wailer, Tanjirou didn't act annoyed in the slightest. Not that such a thing was surprising in any way- Tanjirou was too patient and kind for his own good sometimes.

He turned to face the boy, who was barely making an effort to catch up, while the third begrudgingly stopped also. With eyebrows slightly furrowed in concern, he asked: "what's wrong, Zenitsu?"

Zenitsu- the wailer- was huffing and puffing when he finally made it over to Tanjirou. It appeared difficult to even stand up straight, as he wavered and wobbled with each slight and rare gust of wind.

Still wheezing, he gasped out a desperate question, "are we nearly there yet?"

Tanjirou stared at him for a moment in silence, before sighing deeply.

"Hey- what was that for?!" Although completely out of breath just a moment earlier, it seemed that his energy had been restored enough to begin to screech. It was whiny and hurt the ears, though that was probably its purpose, knowing Zenitsu. It was no wonder why he couldn't get married when he began to speak using such a tone of voice; it truly was grating on the ears. Never mind his whiny begging, clinging, desperate tone and actions mixed with his general perversion. If you happened to be feminine and breathing, chances are Zenitsu was interested.

But I digress.

Their companion snorted before erupting into a fit of mean-spirited cackling at the blond's outburst, having held it back from even his initial whining. This only served to fuel Zenitsu's irritation, leading to his pitch raising and voice increasing in volume as he began to (attempt to) berate the boar-headed male.

"Zenitsu..." oh dear, it seems that Tanjirou is tired of this situation. He even pulled out the 'I'm not mad, just disappointed' tone of voice and expression.

Zenitsu noticed this immediately, quieting down very soon after, only to pipe up with a, "yes?"

"This is the third time that you've asked in five minutes."

"And?!" And suddenly, his enthusiasm that he could have been putting into walking and actually getting somewhere instead of simply complaining returned with a vengeance, arms flailing with fury as he did so, "we've been walking since dawn, and you're telling me that we're not there yet?!"

Tanjirou nodded.

"No way...!" His voice lingered long after he'd collapsed to the ground, lying there like a starfish and staring at the sky with a gaze like that of a dead fish.

"Hey, Zenitsu, are you alright?" Tanjirou- bless his cotton socks- had asked without a moment's hesitation as soon as it had happened. However he did make a very strange noise of confusion soon after, if that counts for anything. Either way, though, he was still staring down at his friend with a very worried face. Their friend, on the other hand, only began to snicker louder at such a display.

"This is the end for me, Tanjirou." Said Zenitsu, not even glancing in Tanjirou's direction as he did so. Each word was monotonous, too even in tone to be from Zenitsu. "You must go on without mE-"

His even-toned speaking evolved into a high-pitched shriek as he was dragged up and slung over the shirtless male's shoulder- him still cackling- before the latter began to sprint away.

"Hey, Inosuke-!"

"INOSUKE, PUT ME DOWN, STOPSTOPSTOPSTOP--"

Tanjirou didn't even have time to sigh again before he had to sprint after them, lest he get left behind. Though even if he did, he supposed it would be easy to find them without even having to sniff them out, with the obnoxious laughter and the terrified screaming. For such a normal, kindhearted boy, he certainly had some strange friends.

They kept running along the path until the sun flew over them, now threatening to disappear beyond even more hills. However the scenery here was rather different, with large fields of grass to the left and crops growing to the right. It was well-organised and looked well-maintained, however Tanjirou didn't even want to know how many people would have to work so rigorously to maintain the land.

"Oh, are you boys demon slayers by any chance?"

It was sudden, abrupt, and caught all three of them off guard. Perhaps if it didn't sound so gentle and feminine then they'd have reacted a bit more quickly and with a bit more force. However they were glad they didn't when they saw the owner of the voice: a young woman, ordinary-looking by all means, but with a certain twinkle in her eyes that looked very amused by what had just happened. And for good reason, too, as one had screamed, one had turned so quickly that it was surprising that their neck didn't snap, and the other grunted. Except it was more of a surprised grunt if anything. Though it was extremely hard to tell the difference between each type of grunt.

"Did I scare you? I'm terribly sorry." She bowed politely as she spoke, each word matching her reserved and respectful demeanour. However she clearly wasn't adept enough at hiding how much enjoyment she'd gotten out of witnessing such strange reactions, as the corners of her mouth struggled to not turn upwards.

"No, no, it's fine; there's certainly no need for a lovely lady like yourself to apologise!" Of course, this was Zenitsu speaking, having recovered rather quickly from his screech that was much more ladylike than any lady that the other two had come across. It was clear that he wanted to move on from that as soon as possible, in some vain hope that this person might be the one that was sympathetic enough to marry him. So far, he'd had no luck. And he was growing more desperate by the minute.

But as he tried to grow closer, he was soon flung a couple of metres away in an instant. Such an event was followed by the woman's scolding voice. However, for once, it wasn't Zenitsu getting scolded. Instead, in an unlikely turn of events, it was something getting scolded for his sake. Every now and again into her scolding session, a whinny attempted to be heard, only to result in even more scolding. Tanjirou and Inosuke only looked on, minds just as blank as their faces. What does one do in such a situation?

Well, upon realising that Zenitsu was bleeding, Tanjirou very quickly decided to try and help him. Inosuke merely watched on for a moment, before making a sound of awe and withdrawing his swords from their sheaths with a rather terrifying cackle,

"What a beast! If I can take it down, then-"

"Please don't try and fight my horse."

"Inosuke!"

-----------

It had taken a while to sort everything out, so much so that nightfall was but minutes away. Thankfully, even after the Inosuke incident, the woman had been willing to let them stay in her house for the night, perhaps more if Zenitsu needed extra rest. His friends already knew that he'd play on the illness card just to continue trying to court the poor girl, but it was something that they simply couldn't hope to change.

"She's really kind, isn't she?" Zenitsu gushed to them in the shared room that had been provided, "giving us all this stuff, even after what Inosuke tried to pull." It was impossible to miss the annoyance lacing his voice as he mentioned Inosuke, who had now taken off the board head and was lying on the best futon available. Not because he deserved it, but because he refused to move off it for Zenitsu who, despite his ulterior motives to his injury, was indeed injured.

At that, Tanjirou grew curious, "Inosuke, have you never seen a horse before?"

"Horse? You mean that thing that Zenitsu lost against? 'Course not!"

'Course not?

"Inosuke..." Oh, how Tanjirou wanted to explain everything wrong with what was just said, but that would require too much time and too much energy for the night. A night which had followed a hectic day which was extremely tiring.

He glanced over at the box he'd been carrying all day, lips pursed slightly to accompany a conflicted expression. Was it alright for Nezuko to come out here, when their host could walk in at any second? It would be difficult to explain their situation, especially to someone who may have lost their entire family to a demon. It could also be dangerous to Nezuko to be put in such a position. And so he shuffled over to the box, opting to sit near it rather than to open it.

"Sorry, Nezuko," he murmured, patting the wooden walls of the box carefully, "but you'll have to stay in there for a bit. I'm sure I can let you out for a bit tomorrow, if we're still here."

Inside the box, there was a bit of shuffling to be heard. But soon after was an acknowledging grunt, one which Tanjirou thanked her for, face forming a bright and beaming smile. It was just in time that he'd shuffled back to his futon, as the woman knocked upon the door and entered very soon after. The relief he felt knowing that he had narrowly avoided a sticky situation was immense, though he had to admit that he felt a little bit nervous when thinking of what could have so easily taken place instead.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, a tray in her hands. Immediately after shutting the door behind her, she placed the tray on a nearby table, sitting beside it. "I made some tea, if you'd like some. I figured it'd been a long day for you all, so I decided to make some tea to help soothe the body and mind." Her words were spun like silk, with a quality to her voice like warm honey. The tea merely became one of the many aromas which wafted around the house, mingling and mixing to form one very odd (and quite overpowering) smell.

Zenitsu was (predictably) the first to join her, singing her praises to the heavens. She merely accepted them with the humility and grace that they'd come to expect from her, and so they all began to sip their tea in comfortable silence.

That is, until she was the one to shatter the comfortable atmosphere.

"I'm sorry for how abrupt it may be for me to say this," she started with, glancing briefly into each of their eyes before returning it back downwards to her own cup. It was held between her hands, and she squeezed it ever so slightly before continuing, "but I fear I must ask, lest anything undesirable occurs."

After one more sip, which felt so drawn out that it was as if she had sipped it until it was all gone, she began to elaborate: "Please, no matter what you hear, do not go out after nightfall."

That was certainly not what they were expecting to hear, especially being demon slayers. Their whole occupation was to fight demons, which required them to go out at night. It was safe to say that such a thing was a very odd request. Even if she had phrased it more like a demand.

Indeed, as she began to speak of that which she wished of them, her voice seemed to drop the kindness that they'd grown to associate with it. The honey that she wound into each word was cut loose, leaving that which she said with a bitter taste in their mouths.

Well, not Inosuke's. He, after chugging the rest of his tea (which was still very much piping hot), asked with little to no hesitation: "Why?"

The girl clearly wasn't expecting this, blinking owlishly twice before repeating the question with a slight tilt of the head.

"Yeah- why not? We're demon slayers, after all, so it's not as if the demons pose a threat." As usual, Inosuke was cocky and boisterous in everything that he did. His words were drowned in such an attitude, his movements were made from them, his expressions screaming them. Still, it did little to affect her, who sharply poked a hole in what he'd said without a moment's delay.

"Really? Then does Kibutsuji Muzan not pose a threat? Or the Demon Moons?" This time, even her eyes had dropped the gentle and kind mirth to them. It was difficult to recall the last time that she'd blinked as she sat there, the sharp colours found in her irises standing out much more in the dim candlelight as she bore holes into he who spoke against her.

Before he could speak up again, she rose to her feet, staring down at them all. Perhaps it was the fiery and temperamental glow of the candlelight rather than the calm and natural light from the sun that accentuated the tense atmosphere- so tense that perhaps a knife could not even slice through it. Perhaps it was also the lighting that made her seem much more ominous than she had at any other moment, that made the scowl she wore more menacing than it would be. It would have been a question as to whether she'd been scowling at all, whether her lip had been curled that much and her eyebrows furrowed so deeply that the skin between them crinkled, had she not spoken so coldly and with a tone so clipped.

"There is a difference between confidence and foolishness. Perhaps it would be best that you learn this difference before your next fight."

This humble farmer, who'd chuckled with them just a few hours before and boasted little more than a simple yet productive life, uttered sentences in which wisdom, the kind which could be born only from experience, ran like rivers. Yet when prodded when she let them slip, she merely brushed it off, claiming a relative used to say it. Or something to that extent.

She bowed then, deeper than ever before, and after excusing herself had disappeared into the darkness of the hallways.

No conversation stuck that night, and sleep had a similar pattern when it finally came.

-----------

Despite struggling sleeping, on edge due to events that never ended up occurring, the three awoke a bit after daybreak. It was about five minutes later that a knock on the door echoed through the room. It was rather surprising to find the woman who was so moody and distant the night before, looking so chipper and energetic in the morning. Once again, she brought in a tray, bearing a simple breakfast for them all and accompanied by some more tea. She placed it on that table once more, removing the other tray at the same time. Once again, she excused herself, though this time it was with the same merriment that they'd expected from her before the occurrence of the previous night. It seemed so hazy now, almost like a fever dream.

However they knew it wasn't. They knew it was real, without even having to confront each other about it. Although she never brought it up and cleverly avoided giving them a chance to, they didn't doubt for a moment that what had happened the previous night was equally odd and true.

And so, while she excused herself from the house very soon after taking away the almost untouched tea from the night before, they concocted a plan. It was morally very wrong, but their curiosity overturned their morals in this place. Not only was her behaviour rather odd, but the more that they thought about it, the house was rather odd as well.

"It smells so weird..." Tanjirou had found himself to be the first to complain about the house. The smell was beginning to irritate him with how powerful it was, so much so that he couldn't even begin to separate the different scents and their origins. Such a thing was so simple for him to do usually, yet he was unable to do so here. It was unnerving to think about; a demon could attack at any notice and he wouldn't even be able to know.

Inosuke was next up: "y'know, I was excited and all at first with how soft the floor is- I mean, where else do you get floor that's soft? In a house?!" The more he thought, the more he got distracted by how much he liked the softness of the material under his feet and hands, and how it separated in between his fingers and toes but was still so soft-

"Get on with it, we don't have all day," Zenitsu commented bitterly, quite upset that his most recent crush wasn't honest and trusting of him, someone she'd met literally the day before.

"Ah-" and Inosuke was brought back to present day, clearing his throat, "but yeah, I can't even feel anything else apart from how fuckin' soft this floor is. And the house!" He slammed open the door to the hallways, terribly startling Zenitsu in the process, "Is full of it!"

Zenitsu's heart seemed to be racing too fast for him to be able to participate in their little chat for a bit, but thankfully five minutes with a cup of tea had calmed his nerves. Not before he began to mutter very angrily about Inosuke under his breath for 'trying to kill' him, mind, but with a gentle prod from Tanjirou he began to share as well.

"I've never really come across anything like it..." he mumbled, quite ashamed of it as he dug a finger in his ear, "and it might sound kinda stupid, but I can't hear anything through these walls."

It took a moment for that one to sink in- such a thing seemed impossible. However he soon added on to what he said.

"Well, actually I do hear some stuff. But it's really faint, even though I can't hear stuff that's right outside."

"Like what?" Tanjirou immediately asked. This prompted Zenitsu to think deeply, staring up at the ceiling and humming for a moment.

"Dunno. Footsteps? They sound kinda far, though, so surely that's not it."

That was true. And so the trio began to think a bit more, staring at different places in the room and humming to themselves as they did so. Tanjirou even began to talk to Nezuko about it, even if she couldn't respond. Seeing as their host wasn't in the house currently, he deemed it safe to let her out and wander around a bit to stretch her legs. She had been in that box for over a full day, after all.

Then, as he watched her toddle around, an idea struck him.

"Wait, Zenitsu!" The sudden outburst shocked the aforementioned male, but (thankfully) not bad enough that he needed more tea and a time-out session.

Tanjirou pointed at his younger sister, who stared up at him questioningly, "how loud are Nezuko's footsteps?"

It was a strange question to ask out of the blue, but with how serious Tanjirou looked, Zenitsu replied as soon as he processed it, "pretty loud. Way louder than even Inosuke's."

This prompted an irritated growl from Inosuke, who looked ready to brawl with Zenitsu over the implications of that statement.

At this, Tanjirou lowered a fist onto his open palm, an expression of realisation on his face, "then what if they are footsteps?"

This question seemed even stranger at first glance- how could they be footsteps when footsteps from right outside the room couldn't even be heard? It just didn't seem logical, especially when the one that was navigating the hallways wasn't even very stealthy from what they'd seen of her. But then it clicked, and Zenitsu's face paled at the very notion of it.

"You can't mean-"

"Yes, I do." His face was deadly serious as he stared at Zenistu, ignoring Inosuke's persistent pestering to know what was going on. The latter's questions were answered anyway when he elaborated: "I think there's a demon in this house."

-----------

"Tanjirou..." Zenitsu was barely able to speak through the chattering of his teeth, which was the one thing that didn't falter about him as they headed down the stairs. Even Inosuke was being quieter, not uttering a single thing, nor even laughing at the blond's misery from underneath that boar mask of his. They'd found the staircase from behind a bookshelf, only doing so when Inosuke had felt the drag marks it had left on the carpet that he so loved.

It was dark, and would only get darker the further down that they went. It would be all too easy for the girl to trap them in there if she discovered where they'd gone, but it was a risk that they were willing to take. For there was a chance, no matter how slim, that she may not know of the demon in her house. Or perhaps it is forcing her to provide shelter for it to stay. There were too many possibilities which could mean that she was in danger, and all of them stemmed from the demon being in her house.

"Tanjirou...!" He repeated, a bit louder and whinier this time. Even Nezuko, who had forced them to allow her to tag along, shot him a look of disapproval. And if nothing else shut him up, then that certainly did, for Zenitsu was a creep to the core, and would drop anything that any living girl disliked that he did in a heartbeat. At least it came in handy sometimes, such as now.

There was light further ahead, and Tanjirou could smell it clearly now: it truly was the scent of a demon, and they would have left without knowing such a thing had they not been so insistent before. Sometimes, in rare moments like these and when he was asleep, Zenitsu was truly useful to have around. But then he squealed, and a huge list of reasons as to why not to have him around could easily be thought up.

Either way, there was no point in sneaking around now that Zenitsu had blown their cover so soon. Duct tape would have really come in handy. If only it was invented about half a century earlier. But, alas, this was their fate, and it was one that they had no choice but to live through. They didn't have the upper hand of surprise, but they certainly had the upper hand in numbers.

And if everything went to pot then they could just knock Zenitsu out. Always seems to work a treat.

As they crept into the light of the room, they took note of the figure kneeling in the centre. He faced away from them, though many of his features could be noted of. The first and most bizarre thing to note was the sword laying beside him. At least, it was the most bizarre until they took note of his clothing, which was extremely similar to theirs, though he also adorned a white jacket over the top of it. His hair was a mess of white, tinted with the warm hue of the flickering flames of the torches around him.

He hadn't noticed Nezuko's growling until now, nor her intense and furious glare. If looks could kill, that guy wouldn't even have ashes left.

"You really haven't learned what respect is at all, have you, you damned brat?"

That voice- how could Tanjirou forget that voice? The voice of the Hashira who had attacked his sister from a couple of years ago with a twisted grin all over his face. He was quick to understand Nezuko's growling, and had to hold her back from rushing in to attack him. The one thing that protected him from her was now gone, and he was one of what they hated.

He turned, a similar expression to the one back then written on his face, with those purple eyes still so wide, smile so wide that it split his face and nonexistent eyebrows furrowed. Though his rise to his feet was slow, obviously taking his time, they still didn't attack. Zenitsu's whole body was clattering with fear, clamming up and making him unable to say anything at all.

"It looks like I'll have to teach you myself, doesn't it? Maybe then it'll finally stick, even with a moron like you!"

As a human, he was already extremely quick. But as a demon he was even quicker as he lunged towards them, blade in hand and all too eager to strike.

[nataliamaximoff]

tagged by @castelllans thank u caroline ♡

do you prefer writing with black pen or a blue pen? black

would you prefer to live in the country or in the city? city

if you could learn a new skill, what would it be? coding or playing the guitar

do you drink your tea/coffee with sugar? of course of course

what was your favorite book as a child? besides harry potter, i really loved animorphs and the edge chronicles and the deltora quest series

do you prefer baths or showers? showers, baths are uncomfortable on the hard tub

if you could be a mythical creature, which one would you be? a mermaid

paper or electronic books? paper

what is your favorite items of clothing? i don’t really have one... i like my easy jersey dresses bc they are simple to put on and wear

do you like your name? would you like to change it? i love all 3 of my names, i wish i could keep my surname forever

who is a mentor to you? my grandma and even my friends sometimes

would you like to be famous? if so, what for? i’d like to be moderately famous for designing a successful and wonderful building

are you a restless sleeper? not really, but i do move around a lot

do you consider yourself to be a romantic person? not at all

which element best describes you? air and water for different reasons

who do you want to be closer to? wish i still talked to my friends from high school

do you miss anyone at the moment? my friends from college

tell us about an early childhood memory. i have a really vivid memory of when my cousin’s friend who played glinda on the national tour of wicked took us backstage at the fox theater and she told me i’d be a great director someday, which sparked my love of theatre

what is the strangest thing you’ve eaten? i think it’s probably still escargot...

do you like spicy foods? not particularly, i just like flavorful foods but not spice for the sake of spice. i order everything mild

have you ever met someone famous? i don’t think so, not that i can remember

do you keep a diary or journal? yes, i keep an assortment of journals in various places, as well as a bujo for my studyblr @archetect

do you prefer to use pen or pencil? pen

what is your star sign? i don’t understand this question, but i will go with i am a virgo

do you like your cereal crunchy or soggy? crunchy

what would you want your legacy to be? something positive hopefully

do you like reading? what was the last book you read? i love to read, but i haven’t read many actual published books lately. last thing i read and completed was the star-touched queen and crooked kingdom

how do you show someone you love them? i hug them or tell them so

do you like ice in your drinks? no

what are you afraid of? becoming a disappointment/failure, and injuries/illness

what is your favorite scent? i’m not sure, i don’t really like smells, maybe book pages

do you address older people by their name or surname? name

if money was not a factor, how would you live your life? traveling everywhere i possibly could and experiencing everything i can <- same as previous op

do you prefer swimming in pools or the ocean? pools, less sandy

what would you do if you found $50 on the ground? i used to have a different answer but these days i’d pick it up and put it in my pocket

have you ever seen a shooting star? did you make a wish? i don’t think so

what is one thing you would want to teach your children? integrity

if you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? i hate tattoos, i would never want one. if i had to, it would be a very small drawing of something maybe on my ankle where no one will think about it. perhaps an abstract or minimalism shape? idk i don’t want to think about it lol, idc

what can you hear now? taylor swift’s new album folklore on my google nest hub by me

where do you feel the safest? at my friend’s house with my friends or alone in my bed

what is one thing you want to overcome/conquer? lack of motivation, self-discipline, fear of failure

if you could travel back to an era, what would it be? 80′s or sometime before america existed cause eff this place

what is your most used emoji?  💗

describe yourself using one word? reflective

what do you regret the most? not taking enough chances and being bold enough

last movie you saw? the old guard on netflix

last tv show you watched? wish i could say atla like previous op but since then i’ve also watched some episodes of “the great” and “down to earth with zac efron”

invent a word and it’s meaning. this is too hard, i don’t have a brain at 3:33 am.

tagging: @durmstrangs @justtinfoley and anyone else who would like to do this

[lcnguor]

THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm.

My muse is:   canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless /

Is your character popular in the fandom?  YES / NO.

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Is your character considered strong in the fandom?  YES / NO / IDK.

Are they underrated?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main story?  YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character?  YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG.

Are they widely known in their world?  YES / NO.

How’s their reputation?  GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL.

How strictly do you follow canon?  — Since she is an OC with her own lore I would say pretty much . Of course there are some heres and theres and she changed a lot from the first time I dragged her out of the void of my head . I originally wanted to make more of a gag character but ended up taking too much of the screen if I’m honest . but of course , since there is many other lores and crossovers are a must , some things change once or twice .

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals.  —  Nora is a mentor character , supportive and most likely to be the ace under the sleeve like a Kisuke Urahara from Bleach or Sinbad from Magi --- you know there’s something fishy but there is a charm that even thought they are slidding in the background for the main character , their relevance is vast . As a mentor characters , she would often help with insight , understanding of complex things , giving moral lessons and giving others a sense of security whilst also making sure to throw hints about a doubious nature . Keeping a character around her to keep their feet on ground while never shooting down their hopes and dreams .

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?).  —  She is not approachable unless you have enough guts to -- perhaps even looks intimidating or hard to come up with something plausible to make the meeting more natural . And honestly , she looks like a mainstream angst character at first glance --- even I myself believe this and start having second thoughts ... :laughs:  

What inspired you to rp your muse?  —  An old project I had archived in my closet of memories (?). She was the main , nameless character of a journal about , well , her and the emotions she had to deal with in the everyday . I will be seriously honest ... it was a self insert :blushes: after all it was like a personal journal I was doing on my darkest days . But after that , she became Sable -- the first character on her own -- who also served as a mentor ( but the story was much more dark , seriously ) and then just came to this . I even used the pre-prototype name lol . The idea was to put the whole story into a RPG pixel game or a short comic series where she ( Sable ) and the protagonist would wander around a city called “Nobody’s Home” , a place were people with “thats” ( what now are called Stalkers ) got dragged into and either confront their emotions and solve / comes in terms with them or get eaten by them ( a metaphor for suicide or dead by mental illness ) . The story was more or less about Sable teaching Nona ( the genderless protagonist ) about different mental states , issues and others and helping people solve them so they can return to the real world . Needless to say , the story ends with Nona returning after coming in terms with their condition ( funnily enough , the protagonist had a bunny shaped emotion ) while on the other hand Sable stayed behind along with her closest friend , who she question why he keeps being around if he could return himself , to what he replies he doesn’t want to leave her alone esp since she can no longer return --- hinting Sable committed suicide but by sheer will power remained there to help others to deal with what she couldn’t . Voez , the friend I mention , is even Victor from her current lore . Haha , I like recycling I guess . When I came with Nora , it was mostly to kill time and altered her base story a bit since the original plot was way to close up to make an interaction .

What keeps your inspiration going?  —  How well received she became , I know it sounds a bit ... uh , bad . But I honestly never expected people to like her . heck I even have my doubts about myself liking her haha . plus I know it’s not easy to deal with a character with a somewhat meta power ... I still struggle from time to time but I’m managing and having the support I have atm is something that keeps me going . I love plot a shit lot . I love to come up with ideas with others . To expand what I already have . besides , there is so much I haven’t write down yet that is about her lore but I’m a bit insecure yet . I guess I’m too used to forums where everyon follows a general plot haha ... old habits die hard .

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice?  YES / NO / EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Do you frequently write headcanons?  YES / NO / 50-50

Do you sometimes write drabbles?  YES / NO, I HATE DRABBLES.

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day?  YES/ NO.

Are you confident in your portrayal?   YES / NO / .... UHHHH

Are you confident in your writing?  YES / HAHA NO.

Are you a sensitive person?  YES VERY MUCH A LOT / NO.

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal?  —  I haven’t got any so far --- which honestly surprises me because well ... there is so much that can bother people . as I said , I received a lot of support and praise , which also surprises me haha ... I won’t deny I would love to hear what people think , even if I later end up riding the anxiety train to the moon but it’s also a way to grow up , I believe . god ... I sound like nora Uu

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character?  —  I absolute love this and need this . It comes easier for me to make a 20 word pages of information about stuff if I’m asking specifically about it . even add explanatory drawings with it lolol since I’m kinda bad with words . besides , showing me interest on a character would just fire the heck out of me to keep going . I mean , everyone likes to get some curiosity and a chance to develop more their characters , canon or not .

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why?  —  I would for sure . I’m not smart and I actually do a shit ton of research --- but even so I can miss a lot of shit people would say <nah that’s not how it works> and that would be helpful as heckie . but of course , needing the why also would tell me if the person disagreeing is doing it with a solid ground or just because they are being a piece of crap . I’m really tired of tumblr mentality and shitty people who aren’t mature enough to act decently .

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it?  —  you cannot like everyone or have everyone like you either . I don’t really care much ... esp since nora is an original character . if it constructive critisism , okay -- I will take it , but gimme a solid reason other than “ your character is / is not ... “ and then give a crappy critique because she doesn’t fit your agenda or standards .

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it?  —  you are fucking free to unfollow me and ignore me for the rest of your life . I really don’t get the point of hating on the internet just because and keep promoting your hate just to be a pain in the ass .

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors?  —  I fucking wrote in my rules that people are even fricking free to fix my grammar and english because holy heck , even to this day I still do some ugly shit . I’m dumb , help ...

Do you think you are easy going as a mun?   —  ehhhhhhhhhhhhh, kinda . I take everything with water . whenever it’s of ideology , people as it is , characters ... I am quite tolerant and try to keep the “okay this person thinks this way , fine .” but as long as nobody crosses the line where they try to spoil it for me or others , I get super bitter . I love OOC , getting to know the one behind the character makes me feel more secure about coming to them and just rambling about plots and hcs and whatever idea got in my mind . but if I see someone and , forgive me god for misjudging , see them as a person that will put me on my nerves -- I won’t even try . as for the friends I have and those who don’t know me as much ... I am obnoxiously sporadic and have a lot of ups and downs very often . one day I could be talking 100 words per second others I will just take a fucking week to respond . honestly , I had mined my social skills for two years plus several other irl stuff previous to that , so I’m always a bit too anxious around people , esp people I REALLY like . I’m insecure as heck , if someone is vague ( just because , idk , it was a lazy day for them ) I think at least 10 different reason why probably that person hates me now . I’m a bit dumb 26 year old baby .......... but I’m very aware that is completely on me . I’m a mess.......  so , what was the question again ??? ... I , yeah ... it’s a kinda . but I try , at least haha.

That’s about it, congrats for filling out!

Tagged by:  @skyvar​ herself Tagging: y’all , cowgirls and cowbois . i hate tagging bc i forget urls :finger guns:

[angrylizardjacket]

eyes on the horizon {Ben Hardy/Reader/Roger Taylor}

Summary: The reader’s pregnant; she knows she has to tell Ben and Roger eventually.

A/N: 1447 words. Discussions of the concept of pregnancy and pregnant!reader. (pokemon kids voice) What’s That Genre?! It’s [redacted].maybe fluff idk, a little drama, a little angst, have fun?? i lost the original prompt. i also have a few more ideas for pieces surrounding this (including an angst one which im a bit obsessed with omg) i’m also not too crash hot on the quality of this one so feedback would be appreciated!

From the moment you find out, you feel like you can hear a clock ticking. Perhaps it’s counting down; counting down as you wait in line at the drug store checkout after waking up nauseous for the fifth day in a row; counting down the two minutes you have to wait for that infuriating little piece of plastic to give you potentially life changing results. Roger complains sometimes about the world being too fast nowadays, too efficient, and the two minutes is up and a second blue plastic line appears, winding you though you’d been expecting it, you think, in some strange way, he might be right. Most likely, you think, it’s counting the seconds until you’re pretty sure your world’s going to change forever, and you might just lose two of the people you care most about.

The clock ticks loudest when you’re with them, when you’re watching Netflix together and Roger’s draped himself across both of you and you’re running your fingers through his hair. He smiles up at you, booping your nose as the next episode loads, and your answering smile is tight. The show’s theme song is playing before he can really worry about it. 

It ticks when you’re sitting across from Ben at the table, and you’re both still in your pyjamas, he’s eating a banana and you’re nursing a coffee, and he catches you looking through him, rather than looking at him, focused on your own thoughts. He asks you what’s wrong, confused, even a little concerned; you’d been acting weird for almost a week now and he hadn’t wanted to push but-

But ‘it’s nothing, I’m fine’ comes more easily to you than the truth.

He leaves for his set, and you leave for yours, and Roger’s still asleep but there’s a fifty-fifty chance he’ll show up at around lunch at either one of your shoots, but part of you hopes he’ll spend the day with Ben if he does.

Things are going so well right now, and it’s the only thought in your mind when you’re waiting for your name to be called by the barista currently making the director’s coffee order. The rush of steam, the clinking of mugs, and the chatter of patrons makes a beat in your mind to the ticking only you can hear. You tap your foot in time to it, trying to talk yourself out of the conversation you knew you were going to have soon.

They both know you’re sick in the mornings, that nausea sometimes just hits you out of nowhere, that you definitely shouldn’t be working, but you’re claiming illness for the first part, quarantining yourself to the sofa, and it helps that your anxiety eases if they’re avoiding you just a little, to stay healthy; you claim capitalism as to why you keep working.

When you lie, tell them that you’re feeling better, that you’re getting over whatever was ailing you, Ben suggests a weekend away, away from the flat, away from the paparazzi, just away, another town for three days. Though of course hesitant, you can’t say no to him.

And you’d always favoured long car rides for uncomfortable conversations. You’re pretty sure it’s because the driver can’t look at you for too long, it makes you less anxious. 

“So, hypothetically,” you began, worrying your bottom lip as you fix your gaze on the lights of the highway passing you by. Everyone’s a little tired, a little tense; it’s been a long week since you’d taken those three different pregnancy tests in the bathroom of the mall. By now, both men were well aware there was something you weren’t telling them.

“Hypothetically,” though it’s technically an agreement, you can tell Ben’s already unconvinced. By Roger’s hum alone you can hear his scepticism. After a moment of silence, apart from the hum of the car, you realise the ticking’s stopped; now or never.

“Do you guys, like, think about the future?” You ask, carefully casual; to no-one’s surprise, Roger’s the first to chime in.

“Obviously; I’m living some science-fiction fantasy, love, this is the future.” He snorted, but he just seemed amused more than anything, still unsure about how this led back to your mood from earlier.

“I don’t think that’s what she meant.” Ben said quietly, and you made a noise of agreement in the back of your throat. “About... about our future?” Ben’s watching the road, but his gaze on the steering wheel is white-knuckled; he’s already jumped to a million different conclusions, all of them leading to you breaking up with them in this car on this highway.

“The three of us.” You agreed easily, fidgeting and looking out the window.

“I figured we’d just see where it leads; why worry?” Roger says, surprisingly flippant, though he too seems to be slightly on edge, drawing similar conclusions to Ben. Which, at the time, you didn’t realise, far too stuck in your own head to notice their own anxieties.

“Well what if we had to?” You begin, but your eyes widen as you think about what you’d just said, how it sounded, and you finally read the atmosphere; “not worry, not really, just think about the future, that is.”

“You know we love you, right?” Ben’s voice is surprisingly soft, even a little desperate. Something about it, however, eases that quiet anxiety in your chest that you had been trying to ignore.

“Do you guys think about our future?” You ask, and in the silence that follows, Ben pulls off to the side of the road. When the car comes to a stop the three of you are plunged into almost total silence, and somehow this is the single most claustrophobic moment of your life. “I do. I have to.” You admit, and your next words are spoken softly; “I’m pregnant.”

It seems you’ve broken both of them; Ben looks winded and Roger just keeps blinking, his mouth pressed into a thin line.

“You sure?” He finally asks. There’s that fear in your heart again, that anxiety, and tears in your eyes as you refuse to look at them, nodding quickly. You’d been so fucking afraid that they’d react badly, and you can feel your heart shattering just a little more-

“Holy shit are we gonna be parents?” Ben’s a little breathless, and sounds absolutely delighted at the prospect. “Like seriously, this isn’t a joke or anything, is it?” 

“Does it sound like a damn joke?” You snap, reeling from the whiplash of the reactions, but when you look at them, both boys are practically bursting at the seams with excitement. Roger practically launching himself over the centre console to hug you, and when he finally wiggles his whole way through and is sitting with you in the back, you’re shaking, wrapped up with him, pressing your lips to his shoulder. It takes you feeling cool air on your back to realise Ben’s gotten out of the driver’s seat to join the two of you. He’s laughing, almost disbelieving, and he kisses Roger’s cheek before wrapping his arms around your stomach, solid and reassuring at your back.

“Holy shit.” Ben murmurs, and you feel Roger laugh. It makes you smile, makes you feel safe in ways you hadn’t realised you’d needed.

“I know!” He crowed, giving you a little squeeze, and it’s enough to snap you out of your shock to let out a giggle. “God, we’ve gotta think about so much- why are their heads so soft?” Roger squints as he babbles, mostly coherent, still hugging you, his arms trapped between you and Ben where the other blonde refuses to let either of you go.

“That’s the first question you have?” Ben asks, and Roger hums thoughtfully, before immediately voicing his next thought.

“No; do we know which of us is the official dad?” He’s blunt about it, and despite the situation, the topic, and your very arrangement, you find yourself blushing as you finally sit up and admit that you don’t. After a beat of awkwardness, Ben rests his chin on your shoulder, the two of you watching Roger as he considered the situation.

“Does it matter?” He asked, and Roger’s face split into a grin.

“Not really.” 

Of course there’s so much to discuss; a movie star, a time-travelling drummer, and a personal assistant? There’s a lot that needs to be worked out, to be considered and talked about between the three of you, and you know it’s going to be hard, that it’s going to take work. You’re willing to put in that work. You’re all willing to put in that work. But for tonight, the three of you are content to celebrate; the future can wait a little while longer.

[hisband]

3 , 8 , 9, 38 !!

 meme: carling shares her honest opinions. || status: no longer accepting.

3. what current rp trend do you hate?

   i find that the rpc as a whole has gotten a lot more… idk, picky & shallow about which characters they interact with? of course, no one is obligated to interact with anyone and i would never guilt-trip anybody for not being interested in specific muses of mine or not following me back. but i have notice a shift over the last four years that i don’t particularly like.

   to give you guys a better idea what i’m talking about, let me give you an example. i roleplay captain spaulding from r.ob zombie’s firefly f.amily trilogy on my multi @mnstrsqd. he’s currently my longest running muse; i’ve been writing him publicly since spring 2015 and have moved him across multiple blogs. spaulding, despite being a chubby, ill-tempered, unhygienic guy in his late 50s / early 60s ( what can i say, i have a type ), was once my most popular character. not because he was pretty to look at or digestible, but because i was told he was interesting. people were drawn to his personality. for that reason, i wasn’t afraid to approach people on him or to follow first ( though i tried to be mindful because he Is a clown character and there are people on this website with coulrophobia, which i completely understand ). it wasn’t difficult to get interactions on him at all.

   nowadays? i’m fairly reluctant to approach people on characters that are considered unconventional, like my main horror muse belial or half the roster on my multi or even murdoc himself, because it seems like the rpc has devolved in the sense that the majority of writers on here ( based on my Own Personal Experience, at least ) are looking for characters that are easy. easy to get along with ic, easy to ship with, easy on the eyes. my buddy ruben made a much more detailed post on that here if you guys wanna check that out, but yeah. shallowness ( or perhaps an extreme reluctance to go outside one’s comfort zone ) is a rampant problem on tumb.lr these days, and it wasn’t like that at all when i first started out. people were a lot more willing to give others a chance no matter how fucking weird or obscure their character was, and i miss that a lot. had the community not been so accepting when i first joined, i probably wouldn’t have stuck around.

8. name any three things about the rpc that bother you.

   besides what i mentioned above? let’s see…

here’s a controversial one: people who feel the need to go around blocks and demand to know why you cut them off. like, dude, all you’re doing is proving to me that i made the right call by removing you from my social sphere. i find this behaviour incredibly entitled & invasive and i don’t like it one bit. i don’t like the idea that you owe people explanations as to why you left, especially if the person in question has been exhibiting abusive or triggering behaviour ( unknowingly or not ). just accept you’re no longer welcome in that person’s life and move on. the length of time you’ve known that person - or favours you’ve done for that person in the past - should not be used as bargaining tools to keep them around. you can tell someone why you’re ending a friendship or writing partnership, but you shouldn’t have to.

on the flip-side of this, i don’t like vague-posting. i try not to follow people who vague-post unless they have a damn good reason to do it ( i.e. trying to warn people about a past abuser but not wanting to say the person’s name for the sake of their own safety, or somebody else’s ). i strongly dislike when vague-posting is done for the sake of guilt-tripping others or making them uneasy. that’s passive-aggressive, petty & not at all a mature way to deal with conflict. if you’re having issues with someone ( and yes, there is a Huge, Huge Fucking Distinction between miscommunications in a relationship and legitimately toxic and abusive behaviour ), talk to them or else the issue is never going to be resolved. don’t drag everyone else down because you’re feeling upset or frustrated with one person.

people making assumptions about other people’s characters seems to be a problem that’s on the rise. just… don’t do it, even if you truly believe you know the other mun’s character. even if you’ve been writing with that character for years. even if you’ve written that character before yourself. it’s really rude & disrespectful, and most writers i know don’t appreciate someone else coming in and telling them how to portray their own muse, or acting like they know them better than they do. if you’re not sure about something in regards to a partner’s character, just ask. it’s that simple.

9. what is your opinion on exclusivity? do you practice it? why / why not?

   i don’t mind exclusivity & have never seen it as a big deal! if you’re really attached to a friend’s portrayal ( and i personally get very attached to the way my friends write their characters ), i think it’s fine to stick with their interpretation and their interpretation alone. the only time it’s ever been a problem for me is when i’ve written in really small fandoms ( i.e. the fire.fly family trilogy ) and felt the need to give everyone a chance. i think that’s a little bit different than when you’re developing a whole ship or story arc with one specific character, y’know?

38. what advice would you give to someone new to rp?

   don’t make rp your only hobby - that can turn unhealthy super fast. if you rp because you like to write, as i do, find other ways to write if you ever reach a point where you don’t wanna rp but still need a way to express yourself artistically ( and believe me, this Will happen ). if writing isn’t cutting it, then try something new, like drawing, or podcasting, or scrapbooking, or arts & crafts, or even cooking. these are all creative hobbies with very similar pay-offs! 

   don’t become too emotionally dependent on rp. i understand getting invested in characters & ships - believe me, i do - but when it becomes your only source of happiness or when you can’t see yourself being able to function without these things in your life, there’s a problem. similarly, don’t become too emotionally dependent on your friends & writing partners. that isn’t fair to them; they aren’t objects or bots here to cater to you, they’re living breathing people, usually with multiple things going on at once. no one’s life should revolve around one thing or one person, period. that’s recipe for disaster.

   and please, please, don’t treat rp like a job. don’t beat yourself up over things like not writing fast enough, or not writing enough threads, or not writing with enough people or not being online enough. this is a hobby, and should be treated like a hobby, and should absolutely not take priority over things like finding / keeping a job, doing well in school, taking care of your responsibilities & spending time with loved ones. the sooner you stop taking tum.blr rp super-seriously, the happier and more fulfilled you’ll feel. promise.

[paraclete0407]

‘Nuke Milwaukee’ a.k.a. ‘Operation White Summer’ - this is not hate-speech or incitement but a sketch of what ‘could’ happen and why 

Someone told me to grow a beard and someone else told me to shave - I like to shave, I went without shaving and a lot of salt-of-earth b/Black people literally started spitting at me and stuff like, ‘This isn’t the male prostitute I ordered that Kendi / Mao assured me I would get by dint of racial privilege in history’ - mental illness, demons, cauldron-Babylon.  You are not supposed to provoke people’s hate and murderousness that I know of.  Santa Mao and the great fairy-tales-are-all-real explicators / intellectual entrepreneurs and propagandists; ‘The Unoriginal Sinner and the Ice Cream God.’

I speculated that ‘Rex Imperator’ Vladimir V. Putin could be the most powerful man ITW today and perhaps in all human history due to his extreme intelligence, responsibility, having been on the scene at amazing moments.  There was a book about Russia I saw that decided to call WW2 Eastern Front ‘Great Fatherland War’ instead of ‘Great Patriotic War’ although the Russians themselves also used a phrase, ‘Holy Mother Russia.’  A biography of Zhukov whose author prefaced, ‘Really I would’ve preferred to write about KK Rokossovsky of Op. Bagration’ - me too!  I kept thinking about Bagration and how many families both German and Russian kept their sons and futures due to the extreme ferocity and much else that is hard to describe about sort of eagle-clawing the throat out of Army Group Center.  KKR was actually part Polish, was tortured, known for being gentlemanly.  End digression: Russians and Eastern Europeans know a lot about violence and also how to keep trying to do the right thing even after very bad things happen to them.  More to the point: they succeed.  In MS we mocked Poles but Poles saved Christendom at the Siege of Vienna; people never say this but they also fought longer and harder than France in WW2.  They are beautiful important people; I never met a Pole who lacked determination and frankly a belief in ultimate victory.

Around here I made one last attempt to heal my past w/ a book about people in and from Shanghai and then went to the Starbucks where I used to practice Korean and penmanship, the barista was like, ‘Oh!  You went to the bookstore?’  I don’t know how to reply.  What are people doing?  

At H-Mart, ‘someone to love.’  People on the verge of war make snap-decisions that determine their lives; however, these stories can still end up subsumed or engulfed in much larger circumstances - which looks good and beautiful in Hollywood but.  I’m reminded of a gas-chamber scene in ‘Life and Fate’ in which a woman ‘adopts’ a young boy in the last moments of their lives on this Earth.  One wants to find someone, some o/Other, to cover sacrificially, while the flames roll over or one body catches fire on its back but extinguishes the fire on the other; from what I know about napalm OTOH it can ignite water.  My point is - all of this happened to people in non-America and they kept going; they worked harder; they kind of said pace Brothers Karamazov, ‘I am more responsible than all the others.’  Kyungsook Shin was wrapping 24,000 pieces of candy per day or so she claimed.  ‘Manual labor makes one honest.’

People are like ‘Say the name of one person who died and let’s demand that David Johnston shave or we’ll infect him with a bioweapon ad maiorem Maoem gloriam.’  That’s psychopathic malice + the barista is like ‘The High Toned Christian Woman’ - ‘civil madam...’  But if you read Isaiah all the ladies are getting stripped and stuff which sort of happened in GoT from what I understand but GoT was more commercial revenge-pornography written by white people for white people or rather for Mammon.  I feel attached to the 1990s; I liked the Beethoven-derived and much-remixed and re-sung song ‘Hope’ and esp the last ‘Culture Humanity’ concert; it struck me most of Girls Gen were born in 1989, the year of Berlin and Tiananmen.  But - nothing near as bad as Leningrad, Stalingrad, the Holocaust, Hiroshima, etc. has even happened to Milwaukee and, it, shows.  I used to walk around [Korea] reflecting, ‘Here I am in the walled rose garden guarded by military angels and entrusted with the chance or chances of numerous children’s lives whose world is the apartment, the school the church the cram school the piano cram school, Mom’s hand, the pellucidity and “innocence of objects” in the department stores.’  

I wanted to tell Mike Pompeo about this because Rose Gardens are very important and Korea is very very important; I really wanted him to be President after the Rose Garden b/c I felt, ‘This guy doesn’t care about “persona” and he’s not saying everything he can or trying to pretend he understands everyone in the present or will give them stuff he is just talking in “noun-truths,” life, China, people, truth, trust, distrust.’  America is still like, ‘Let’s remember Hitler’s personality.’  No!  Did Pompeo state a falsehood?  Did he promise or offer stuff?  Did he tell people what’s good and bad or what it’s OK to hope for?  Is he trying to teach anyone anything or is he being, doing, having, working?

I do not believe America can out-lie or out-charm or if I’m being honest out-beauty the Chinese.  I definitely don’t believe ‘we’ can out-math the Chinese.  I know a bit about how they teach math in SG.  It is far from magic and it’s also not your football coach.  IDK everything but I cannot easily conceive of chaining these flaxen-haired Midwestern girls to IV-drips while they cram for college entrance exams; they might do diet-pills and stuff a la ‘All Loves Excelling’ but that is not a happy story!  She dies; moms blog.  This novel haunts me but if we convert it into prophecy what is it saying?  It’s saying ‘failure of education; failure of America; Changrae Lee novel (Gesture Life) for white people who think Korean stuff only happens to Koreans.’  

The Episcopalian Church today talks about Christ and consciousness which I believe is important since I am conscious person but the local pastor also talked about ghosts and life and it really baffled me.  Category of consciousness as opposed to knowledge, or pre-programmed reaction, or ‘calling it as one sees it.’  In a way I associate consciousness with a poem by Tagore called ‘Unending Love.’  Holding the consciousness of b/Being, the permanent presence or at least permanent abiding awareness of the reality of the o/Other near or far.’  Another banned book I hoped never to talk about again was ‘The Elementary Particles’ which is full of pornography and hate and anti-family anti-mom rhetoric and its author really didn’t help himself in some ways - I also love his poem ‘Liquid Birth’ however.  In the end of ‘Elementary’ the future-historian writes about a transition / conversion from an ‘ontology of space’ to an ‘ontology of states.’  That’s an important idea which also reaches back, for instance in Houellebecq’s mind, to the medieval man’s constant testing of his state of grace or sin.  

But, what permanently changes the bases, groundwork, foundation, or ‘metalanguage-basis’ for the mental awareness of ‘historical moment?’  What decisive kind of event could stop the mind from going back to the easy and complacence-generation assumption that every experience can be filed away in a library thus enabling one to return or regress to a prior mindset and self-consciousness or ‘internal identity-theory-engine.’  What comes to my mind is, ‘losing everything.’  People believe they can eat up everything and blog about it.  

I don’t know if I can make a clear case for this but I just feel like ‘Milwaukee Torch Parade’ is not the way to go.  It reminds of something really dumb John Updike said after 9/11 that totally missed the point - Chancellor John Piper might have said ‘Don’t Waste Your Terror-Attack’ - about America’s realizing that it was not that great to get richer and richer and watch talk-shows and that were many possible friends, converts, human lives / souls, whom a very little of our treasure could help in big ways.  Right after 9.11 before ‘Operation Infinite Justice’ there was the sense that everything would be different; ‘death of irony’ might have missed the point but the idea that we could live by direct declarative statements and avowals rather than conversations and Tory-doubts was a good idea and only then instead of ‘bread and lilies’ we spent a huge amount of money on bombs that suck out people’s eyeballs and collapse their lungs... I’m not even saying it is wrong to build amazing weapons because God’s an amazing masculine being - the amazing - but there remains the category of ‘permanent lessons.’  The drawing of unerasable lines that provide a demarcation.

Anyway I just feel like they’re not enforcing posted laws, there are all these weird modded cars and motorcycle maniacs, they lock up drunks while apparently bypassing sex-slaves, I get lectured about people freezing to death by my parents who own like 20-30 jackets and then my mom is like ‘Your father [Freudian excuse from 60 years ago].’  This is not how Eastern Europeans and Russians do things. From what I know this is not how human history has worked for most people.

[ka-za-ri]

Galene (Prompto x FemOC)

Genre: Slice of Life Rating: SFW Pairing: Prompto x Female OC????  Wordcount: 2,113 Suggested Listening: 月に照らされ、風に揺れる華 -- Hanafugetsu Tags: @roses-and-oceans @r-e-g-a-l-i-a @sweetchocobae @rubyphilomela @thirsty-angst-lord @hypaalicious (???? Is this ok??? IDK if ppl wanted to be tagged bc lmao it’s not Ignis) Notes: Yeah, that’s right. You CAN believe your eyes. It’s not Ignis. My muse is out of control and wanted me to do a character study on Prompto. Because of that one post floating around that said he was neglected as a child. Hooo buddy, I had feels. No beta in sight, more experimental stuff. 

GALE′NE (Galênê), a personification of the calm sea, and perhaps identical with Galateia, one of the Nereides, is called by Hesiod (Theog. 244) a daughter of Nereus and Doris.

--

Prompto Argentum lived on a borrowed name and made up time. What he wished to belong to him was created for a purpose not his own. He hid this fact through a smile that was brighter than the sun and wider than the skies along with a laugh and louder than the storms. Prompto Argentum was made up of fragments and of broken promises.

As beautiful as the city was, the world beyond it seemed so dreamlike to him. What photos he could take of the jagged horizon were always too blurry, imperfect, idyllic, manufactured. He wanted many things in life, trust, friendship, acceptance, but more than anything, he wanted sleep. Tucked into the corner of the city, a commoner dressed as a Crownsguard in training, he wished for space, a place to think to hear what thoughts could be his and his alone.

Loneliness was something he was familiar with. In a gated community filled with older folks who kept more to themselves than their neighbors, he found solace in capturing moments in time through his camera when his heart skipped a beat at the beauty that surrounded him. Through the click of a shutter and a shy glance up to make sure no one was watching, he hoarded images, hoping, praying that they would live for him. Life for him was perfectly serene, and he had warm memories of trying to take pictures of the void of stars at night above the water.

Prompto found himself walking a lot. Most of the time, it was in the dead of the night when it was quietest and his thoughts almost seemed to collect correctly. Strolling the streets, he learned the corners and the quaintness of his neighborhood as the critters of the night scampered off, eventually leading him to the beach. He never needed music to listen to when his feet lead him to the water. The sound of gently lapping waves accompanied the beating of his heart and provided the booming baseline to his footsteps being the only sounds that he needed to think, to breath, to believe that he was real.

He often counted stars during those long walks, thinking them as a reflection of the freckles on his face. Each constellation he matched fell from the heavens to kiss gently at his cheeks and take a little bit of the stress he felt away from him. As the waves caressed at the corners of his consciousness, he could almost believe he was once born, and not made to be human. As the tide fell when the moon retreated, so did the tension of being and all that was left was his ability to believe.

Fondly, most fondly of all, he remembered the first night to the beach. He sat on a rock that was still holding onto the last vestiges of warmth from the sun, staring out into the darkened waters as moonlight rippled and played across the surface. It was the first night he didn't need his camera to capture the magic of the world around him. As tempting as the water seemed to be, the first nip of autumn air prevented him from dipping his toes into its inky depths. As brightly as he shone during the day, he could not let anyone know how weak he was to illness. That night, he recalls most fondly of throwing the windows to his room wide open so that he could continue to listen to the restless ocean just past his reach.

--

Six weeks of regularly walking at the beach and Prompto Argentum began to hallucinate.

There's no way she's real.

Thursday night, just past 3 AM on a routine walk, the peaceful lull of waves was interrupted by the unfamiliar sound of splashing and a voice that shone brighter in the dark night than his smile in the sun. Someone, laughed and sang during his hours of the dead when he was sure no one was awake.

Down by the pier she danced in the dark, glassy waters of the night, laughing and squealing at the fish that darted and danced by her legs. She sang loudly, off key and off tune to songs from at least three decades ago. The way she moved smelled strongly of chrysanthemums and orange blossoms in the summer. Despite the chill of autumn setting in, she flailed and swam in the darkened water as if it was the middle of summer.

Under a waxing moon which nestled between Castor and Pollux, Prompto Argentum met a goddess who was drenched in the light of the stars while moonbeams dripped heavily from her eyelids.

She didn't notice him until he was only about thirty paces from the end of the pier.

"Oh, hello! I didn't think people were up this late! What's up? Couldn't sleep?" Her first interaction reminded him of a wide-eyed curious child, naive to the world.

"I usually take a walk down by here to help me go to sleep" He replied, skeptical, and sure he was still strongly imagining everything.

"No, no. There has got to be a better reason why someone like you would be up this late, walking around here like you've never seen water before." She disappeared underneath the dark surface of the water and Prompto felt himself sigh in relief, realizing the moment was over. When she appeared again, at the edge of the pier, arms crossed on the wooden planks, hair swirling around her face in a tangled mess, he felt his heart stop. "Come on now, there's got to be a story behind all of this."

"There really isn't a story to any of this. It's just... nice and quiet here." He shrugged before coming to his senses that yes, there was someone there and yes, they were speaking to him. He couldn't help but wish that his camera was with him to catch the way the moonlight made her hair looked curled and wild.

"Quiet is the only good thing about this place, really." She scoffed.

"Well, I mean, it's better than during the day when it's all noisy."

"I guess you have a point there." She sighed and shifted her weight a bit, making the planks of wood groan slightly. "There's literally nothing to do here though. All the people are old and no one ever swims in the water during the day. I mean have you seen how much trash there is?"

"Wait, then why are you in the water now?"

"Because I want to be. But that's beside the point. You never really answered my question. Why are you here? There's no way a pretty thing like you grew up here. All the old grannies would be spoiling you rotten to the core. Did you move here recently?"

"I... I grew up here. I just, don't really go out much. But I just started coming to the beach recently. How did you figure?"

Maybe it was just the way the water lapped at her waist as she clung to the edge of the pier that made her seem like a sprite straight out of a fairy tale. Or perhaps it was the moonlight casting a glowing halo around that made her seem absolutely surreal and ethereal to him. Still, a deeply skeptical part of him truly wanted to believe he was imagining this whole scenario.

"Well, first, there are no younger people here. I'm just visiting my folks for a little bit. Been away for a while. I'm an ornithologist y'know. Most of my studies are on chocobos, but I really like to run around finding the big ones, like ruhks! So, my reasearch takes me all over the place." She let out a dreamy sigh and settled her head back down on her arms. "It's nice though, coming back for a bit and taking a dip every now and then. Secondly, if you need to take a walk around here to lull you to sleep from the city sounds, you must be one hell of a light sleeper, kid."

"I'm not a kid! I have a name. It's Prompto. And you'd best remember it. I'm training to be a Crownsguard." Prompto huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Look, it's just, nice to walk around here at night. It's like you, coming back to your parents' place."

As much as he tried not to show it, he felt a twinge of envy that she even had a place with parents to come back to. What with how often he saw his own folks, it was difficult to swallow the bitter feeling that was rising from the back of his throat. She, as carefree as the world, had the one thing that he wanted.

"No, no." She countered, shaking him out of the foul mood that was sinking through his skin. "You see, those are two different things. I'm coming back here because I have a familial obligation and it's a free room for a few days before I have to head out again. You, on the other hand willingly bring yourself to walk around in the dead of the night so you could experience 'peace and quiet.' Prompto. You may be a Crownsguard in training, but man, you're weird. Have you ever heard of earplugs? They work miracles on loud noises, and you'll get a lot more sleep that way 'cause y'know, you're not up and about in the dead of the night."

Any chance Prompto had to reply was cut short as she floated off to play with more invisible fish in the impossibly dark water. Prompto didn't really have much of an answer to her question. He could have easily found the quiet he wanted in other ways, but he chose to seek the water as if it was the only place that mattered to him. Perhaps it was that magnetic draw to it that eventually brought him to her.

How sorely he wished he had his camera to catch the stars as they flickered in the night sky while she laughed and sang songs he had only briefly heard in snippets while browsing radio stations.

The rest of the night, he sat at the edge of the pier, feet numb and dipped into the water, watching as she swam around, laughing and talking to her fishy friends. The part of him which thought it was all an illusion at first became the part of him that yearned for her to talk to him and not her silent, swimming friends.

By the time the night waned and Prompto got himself to bed, he refused to open his windows. The sound of waves that night were too loud with the sound of free will and singing fish.

~~

In the morning, at his front doorstep. His shoes and a bright pink sticky note with a message scrawled on it:

Goofball, you left your shoes at the end of the pier. At least the grannies here were nice enough to point me in the direction of your place. You're lucky I'm not your shoe size because I would have made these mine if I could.

The place her name should have been was smudged and illegible. His shoes had been spitefully filled with sand and he couldn't help but laugh at her petty nature. Six, I should have asked for her name...

The rest of his day, the whole scenario of their conversation haunted him. The scrap of paper with her written note burned in his pocket and he found himself constantly fidgeting with it. He found himself forgetting most of what he was supposed to be training for and ending up with more bruises that day than he cared to talk about. Not that there were a lot of people he could talk to about them in the first place.

By the end of his scheduled day, out of sheer frustration and impulse, the weightless note became an unbearable burden to him and he threw it in the garbage.

He destroyed the one and only memento he had from a conversation with a water goddess. Though the object itself was temporal, the memory of her moon drenched figure lived forever in Prompto's mind. And he would chase that image forever move with his camera in hand.

Prompto Argentum lived on borrowed time and makeshift memories. However, he'd now count the pictures he's taken and they would more than make up for the lost time that wasn't his.

[jikook-love]

E[Love]

PART 1 | calculate the expectation of love.

student!jungkook + tutor!jimin = math!jikook ;)

OR

alternatively, 16k+ of self-indulgent romantic crack, unnecessary dialogue and really bad math humour as reluctant math major Jungkook sets out on his quest for love.

Happy Valentine’s Day~!  ♥ This is for @gracefulweather! She should know I probably destroyed my midterm mark thanks to her. 

read the full story on AO3

“ARGH! I don’t wanna study anymore! Why am I even in this program?!”

The sudden outburst from second year Mathematics & Statistics major Jeon Jungkook startled some of the other students in the library, some of whom threw him the dirtiest look.

“Pipe down, won’t you?” Kim Seokjin—4th Year Honours Statistics and Vice-President of the Math Council—whispered, looking embarrassed for the younger, bespectacled boy. “Second year isn’t that bad. You’ll get it soon.”

“Says you who has the fucking smartest boyfriend in the entire university, probably,” Jungkook snapped, pulling off his glasses in frustration.

“He’s definitely not the smartest, and are you suggesting I leeched off him?” Seokjin scoffed. “It’s not like he wrote my exams for me.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook pouted as he slammed his head down into his books. “I don’t think I can memorize another probability distribution. Not that it matters anyway. I’m not passing that damn course.”

Seokjin sipped his coffee nonchalantly as he stared at Jungkook. “Tell me. Why are you even in this program anyway? Did you even like math in high school?”

“No,” Jungkook groaned, as he slumped further into papers.

“Well…you’re certainly not very good at it,” Seokjin said bluntly. “So why math?”

“I DON’T KNOW!” Jungkook blurted, eyes wide. “I honestly don’t know!”

Seokjin sighed. “So in the end you’re one of those people,” he spoke. “You have no appreciation for this art of numbers, the poetry of proofs…nor the satisfaction of solving an arduous problem late after midnight.”

“More like finally finding the answer on Google,” Jungkook muttered under his breath.

“I’m serious,” Seokjin said firmly. “Why do you think math professors are all like ‘I would wed the numbers if I could’? There’s just something about it, man. How do you think I managed to stay single for so long? That pure pleasure from drawing the complete of proofs square or writing QED at 3 a.m.…it’s more than enough.”

“What the hell does that even mean?” Jungkook gaped, disgusted by his older friend’s descriptions.

Jungkook would never appreciate math. Never. Ever. Even if he was in this program, there was always that inner part of him that wanted to scream “nerd” and laugh at every aspiring math major who walked by. He hated that sense of elitism that they all seemed to have—Seokjin and his overachieving, go-hard boyfriend Namjoon included: so what if you can calculate a triple integral or memorize the equation for a Gamma distribution? It really shouldn’t make you any better than other people.

 “Oi, did you hear me?” Seokjin’s voice came back into his mind.

“Sorry. I was trying to remember things that should be better off forgotten,” Jungkook grimaced.

“Like your midterm marks?” Seokjin snorted. “Anyways, I was saying you should try getting a tutor for your courses.”

“That’s not going to work though,” Jungkook whined, adjusting the collar of his hoody. “At this point, I don’t even know what I don’t know.”

“And that’s where the tutor comes in,” Seokjin said. “I know this guy—you may know him too actually. You know Taehyung, right? He’s in your classes.”

Jungkook snorted. “Do I know Taehyung?” Jungkook repeated mockingly. “I tried studying together with him once. Somehow, we ended up at a park somewhere at 3 a.m. eating frozen yogurt and dancing around a tree—we both failed the linear algebra assignment together after that so you might not want him to tutor me.”

“Wow, you’re practically besties,” Seokjin said, rolling his eyes. “It’s not him that I was going to suggest but he has a friend who’s really good at math. The guy’s looking for a part time job right now too so maybe he could help you out.”

“Wait, you want me to pay for this shit?” Jungkook gaped. “Hey, I’m broke, remember? Student life? We don’t all have daddies to take care of us you know?”

“Namjoon is not my daddy.”

 “I was talking about your actual father but your guilty conscience seems to be off the walls today,” Jungkook snorted loudly. “You should’ve seen your face when you said that. Such a serious expression. ‘Namjoon is not my—‘‘”

“For a dude who’s supposed to be quiet you sure are talking a lot today.” Seokjin was quite flustered at this point. “So do you want my help or not?”

“Okay, okay fine,” Jungkook grumbled. “I’ll give it a shot…but do I really have to pay for it?”

Seokjin shrugged. “Maybe if he likes you enough, he’d do it for free.”

“…maybe I can pay for it with my body.”

“Jeon Jungkook, ever since you entered second year you keep making jokes like that and it doesn’t really sit well with me,” Seokjin reprimanded. “You used to be so cute and innocent…what happened?”

“This freaking school happened. And who said I was joking? Maybe I really have no alternative at this point,” Jungkook responded.

Seokjin let out another exasperated sigh. “You know what, I think I’m done listening to you for today,” he concluded as he packed up his books. “I’ll message you Jimin’s e-mail and then you can do whatever you want with it.”

Jungkook stared at Seokjin as he pulled his backpack onto his shoulders. “Wait, who’s Jimin?

“The guy who’s hopefully gonna tutor you,” Seokjin answered. “You don’t know him? Park Jimin? 3rd Year Math & Stats? He actually has quite the reputation around here.”

“No…should I?” Jungkook narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “He’s not one of those dudes, is he?”

“Jungkook, I swear I don’t know what you’re talking about 50% of the time.”

“You know, one of those arrogant nerdy pricks that you and Namjoon like to hang around for some reason.”

“He’s nothing like that at all. And we don’t hang around people like that! You just have to get to know them.”

“This is why I don’t trust you.”

“It’ll be fine,” Seokjin reassured. “Just…give it a chance. Who knows? Maybe if you’re not so focussed on just being closed away all the time, perhaps you can learn to be commutative and associative with others as well…perhaps even gain an identity.”

“You disgust me.”

“Now that’s the inverse of what I wanted to hear.”

 It was already 12:50 a.m. Instead of finishing up his calculus assignment like he was supposed to, Jeon Jungkook was on Facebook, messaging Taehyung, though it was partly because he’d gotten distracted while trying to search up the solution on Google.

 Taehyung: how’s anal going by the way?

Jungkook: it is absolutely painful. i can’t even go to class anymore because it hurts so much

Taehyung: hmm. sucks to suck. i warned you not to take it so early.

Jungkook: i was young and foolish. i get it.

 Jungkook sighed as he stared over to his neglected analysis (or “anal”, as him and Taehyung preferred to call it) textbooks, ones that he had bought brand new from the bookstore and hadn’t opened since.

 Jungkook: so u know this jimin dude?

Taehyung: ya. we were best bros in high school

Jungkook: wat about now?

Taehyung: i mean obviously still but now he’s involved in a bunch of things and i'm just trying to pass lin alg so…

Taehyung: i mean we still meet up occasionally

Jungkook’s curiosity had been piqued before he could help himself. He typed the words Park Jimin into the Facebook search bar.

Jungkook: what does he look like?

Taehyung: black hair, short. idk how to describe him. i think he pretty plain. compared to me.

 Jungkook found himself groaning before he could help it. Ugh, one of those people again. After scrolling through two pages of “Park Jimin”s with black hair, Jungkook decided to give up.

 Taehyung: yo, how da fuq do you do question 3? what the hell is he even trying to ask

Jungkook: LOL ur asking me

Taehyung: screw it i'm going to sleep. ill do it in the morning

Jungkook: …it’s due at 9:30

Taehyung: i said. ill do it in the morning

 And then he was gone, leaving Jungkook alone to contemplate the mystery that was Park Jimin, along with the massacre that was Question 3.

The Facebook message tone rang out again, and though Jungkook had expected it be to Taehyung, it was Seokjin instead. He opened to tab to see one line of e-mail, which undoubtedly had to be Park Jimin’s.

Jungkook stared at the address for a few seconds. Ugh. Who even uses e-mail anymore?

Deciding he had nothing better to do (mostly because question three gave him a headache just to look at), he opened up a new tab and logged into his e-mail, before promptly entering the address that had been given to him.

Hmmm….how should I word this? He had never really tried to e-mail another student professionally before, nor did he know what level of formality to use when addressing this person. Was he a stick in the mud? Was he chill like Taehyung? Jungkook had no clue, and the more he thought about it, the more discouraged he got: he was actually going to try and get help from a dude whom he had never met before. Was he really this desperate?

Exhaling to release any sliver of useless pride he had left, Jungkook brought his fingers to the keyboard and typed to his best discretion:

  J, Jungkook

Tutoring Help

Hey,

My name is Jungkook and my friend Seokjin introduced you to me and said you could potentially tutor me.

Let me know if this is possible and when we can meet up.

Thanks,

Jungkook

  Jungkook read it over. Once. Twice. After another deep sigh, he recollected himself and pressed send before he could hesitate any longer.

Deciding he had messed around long enough, he promptly turned his attention back to the dreaded question 3. Despite the dizziness he was already feeling in his brain due to the ungodly hour, he boldly picked up his pencil and decided to bullshit through the problem as best as he could.

Ping!

Jungkook nearly jumped at the sudden noise amidst the quiet.

Who’s e-mailing me at this time?  Jungkook wondered as he grabbed his phone to check the notification.

He certainly did not expect to see what he saw.

  Park, Jimin

Re: Tutoring Help

Hey Jungkook! I would love to…

 That was fast. Before he knew it, Jungkook had already unlocked his phone, eager to read the rest of the message.

  Park, Jimin

Re: Tutoring Help

Hello Jungkook!

I would love to try and help! Any friend of Jin’s is a friend of mine!

I know it’s short notice but I’m actually quite free tomorrow if you wanted to meet up.

What times are you free tomorrow? We could discuss things over coffee if you’d like!

 Regards,

Park Jimin

 Jungkook scrunched his nose up in annoyance, feeling turned off by the formal grammar and perfect mail syntax and lack of spelling errors and what kind of person even signs their mail with “regards” anymore? Jungkook scoffed at himself. This was only getting more and more hopeless. Despite that, Jungkook wasn’t really in the mood to hurt the guy’s feelings (yet) seeing as Jimin was so eager to respond. He decided to go along with it for now.

  J, Jungkook

Re: Re: Tutoring Help

sounds good. how about 11 at the math café? and do you have facebook or something that I can add you on to make this easier?

 He barely had to wait a minute to hear the notification ping again.

  Park, Jimin

Re: Re: Re: Tutoring Help

That’s perfect!

And I’m really sorry but I don’t have Facebook. The only thing I use is e-mail so you can feel free to send me any questions or messages here! I’m usually fast at replying. I apologize for any inconvenience.

 I’ll see you tomorrow then, Jungkook! I’m off to bed now, have a good night!

Regards,

Park Jimin

 “That loser doesn’t have Facebook?!” Jungkook couldn’t help blurt aloud for no one but himself to hear. He was really, really regretting this now. This person clearly seemed like the most stick in the mud nerd in the world. He was still using perfect punctuation in his message, went to sleep early (well, 1 a.m. but still), and evidently still used e-mail as his main form of communication.

Needing an outlet for venting (and realizing it was now past hour of proper comprehension for question three), Jungkook decided to vent in the form of a single lined message to Kim Taehyung who was probably asleep by now and would probably see the bright, uplifting message in the morning:

 Jungkook: ugh. leave it to kim freaking seokjin to hook me up with the number one virgin nerd lord in the world.

  Jungkook sat patiently on one of the tall chairs at the Math Café, waiting for his nerd tutor to arrive.

It was barely 10:40 a.m., but he’d decided he had nothing better to do after handing in his assignment. Plus he wanted a good excuse not to start the next one. As Jungkook casually sipped his coffee, he could sense quite a lot of dirty looks being thrown at his direction, and he knew exactly why.

If he had to be completely frank with himself, Jungkook really didn’t want to be taught by this person, and he didn’t want to have to say that aloud at any point during their meeting. So instead, he resorted making himself look as unappealing as possible. So there he was, decked out in his old rotten sneakers that had a toe poking out of the right shoe, his old black shorts that he found stuffed between the wall and his bed that hadn’t washed in god knows how long, a pair of black, thick-rimmed fake glasses and a bright, blazing red hoodie that seemed to engulf him. As a bonus, he hadn’t even bothered to take a shower nor brush his hair after he had forced himself to wake up at 7 a.m despite that he only managed to finish the assignment at 4 a.m.

In other words, he looked like a very unfashionable zombie.

And honestly, he loved it. Jungkook was truly in his “fucks-I-give-none” element now.

The minutes started ticking by, and Jungkook kept his eye on the entrance for any sign of a preppily dressed nerd lord, potentially carrying a suitcase. He could only be complete with ugly glasses and maybe even a receding hairline at this rate.

Before he knew it, it was already 11:05 a.m., and no nerd lord in sight.

Jungkook felt slightly disappointed. So nerd lord isn’t as lawful as I thought he’d be.

Ding!

Jungkook’s Facebook messenger notification went off. He swiped to find out that Kim Taehyung was finally awake:

 Taehyung: shit. i forgot to do the assignment.

Taehyung: and wait. who’s a virgin nerd lord?

 Jungkook was about to respond when another message popped up.

 Taehyung: oh. you mean jimin? ya he’s a nerd alright.

Taehyung: maybe not a virgin but definitely a nerd ._.

Jungkook snickered to himself..

Jungkook: he seem like such a by the book guy dough :o

Taehyung: he is. have fun with him. LOL.

Jungkook: thanks L (he’s late btws)

Taehyung: lmao. still? dat boi never shows up on time to anything.

 Jungkook sighed. It was now 11:07 a.m., and still no nerd lord in sight. Jungkook was starting to tap his foot in impatience, contemplating if this was a good enough excuse to storm out and call it quits on this whole attempt.  

However, his attention was abruptly piqued when something suddenly caught his eye.

Or rather someone.

Jungkook grabbed his phone immediately.

 Jungkook: yo. dude. there's a really cute guy walking in rn. omg. were there even cute guys in math?

Taehyung: LOL. and r00d. and i'm in math, remember?

Jungkook: oh shiet. he's coming in here

Taehyung: talk to him.

Jungkook: he seems busy. he’s …dressed up all nicely.

Taehyung: white button up?

Jungkook: ya.

Jungkook: with a black tie.

Taehyung: L.O.L. might as well offer him your ass to him now.

Jungkook: he’s talking to people. he looking for sum1 MAYBE HE ON A DATE

Taehyung: who the fuck would go on a date at the math café

Jungkook: oh shiiiettt he getting closer. w/e I’m just gonna watch. he so out of my league lmao

Taehyung: oh kookie. no one’s out of your league. u just gotta believe

Jungkook: u don’t know what I look like rn. ._.

Taehyung: if you talk to him, i’ll give you five bucks

Jungkook: nah man, I’m gud. I’ll just be happy staring at him.

Jungkook: why the fuq is he so close now. he still talking to people. is he still looking for sum1. O.O

Taehyung: you wish he was looking for u LOL ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Taehyung: by the way. wat happened to ur tutor? no show? LOL.

 Jungkook was in the middle of typing “yeah I have no clue” when he suddenly sensed the presence of someone standing by his table.

“Excuse me?” The voice was nice. Smooth yet approachable.

He looked up.

His heart nearly jumped out of his throat.

It was the guy. The guy was at his table. And he was talking to him.

If Jungkook thought the boy was “acutey” from afar, he was freaking beautiful up close. He had silky black hair that draped nicely over the porcelain skin of his forehead. His lips were plump and pretty and pink and Jungkook’s mind was already going to indecent places upon seeing them up close. And what’s more, his slanted, brown eyes were captivating as anything, soft and gentle and the way they were slightly widened in expectancy made Jungkook want to grab him right then and there. And what’s more, he was dressed completely in the style that Jungkook was totally weak for: white shirt, black tie…and the way those form-fitting black pants hugged his…

But instead of letting all the beauty overwhelm his senses and distract him completely, Jungkook suddenly became extremely aware of what he personally looked like, and immediately regretted all of his life decisions.

“Um…can I—uh, like, help you…or something?” Jungkook managed to stutter out very awkwardly.  

“Are you Jeon Jungkook by any chance?” the boy smiled.

Jungkook felt his breath catch in his throat. How does he know my name?  Jungkook’s brain (slightly abnormal from the lack of sleep) was spinning. Destiny, it has to be destiny, he concluded.

Jungkook coughed. “Yeah. I am.”

The boy’s smile widened. It was blinding.  

His brain was running haywire. This is it. This is my reward for suffering in this program for so long. He’s gonna tell me I’m the only sin of pi over two for him. I finally get a sexy boyfriend. Yes, yes, YES—

“I’m Park Jimin, your tutor?” the boy said, still smiling. “We emailed each other last night?”

Jungkook’s smile disappeared as he suddenly lost balance and fell out of his chair in surprise. He crashed harshly to the ground—much like the reality surrounding him at that moment.

  “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU HAD A HOT BEST FRIEND?” Jungkook screamed immediately upon bursting into Taehyung’s room.

Taehyung groaned from his bed. “Why do I feel like—wow, you look ratchet—this has happened before in some alternate universe?”

“What does that even mean?” Jungkook blabbered. “Anyways, I totally made a fool of myself.”

“How bad could it be? It’s you after all,” Taehyung grinned.

“I fell out of my chair.”

Taehyung blinked. “How—”

“It just got exponentially worse, ok?” Jungkook sighed. “I was already tired from the three hours of sleep and then he came up to me which was already not okay and then he just throws the bomb—”

“I think you meant ‘drops the bomb’,” Taehyung mumbled.

“—and I’m lucky I didn’t die, okay? I thought my heart was going to stop. And what nerd lord? I’m sorry, but that ass alone—I’m telling you it has like…no upper bound if ya know what I’m saying.”

Taehyung glared at Jungkook. “What does that even mean? That doesn’t even make sense. His ass is a freaking parabola, of course it has an upper bound—why are you even fast tracking third year analysis—anyways, first of all, you assumed he was the nerd lord. I only told you what I honestly think of him…besides, did he agree to tutor you in the end?”

Jungkook couldn’t help but allow a slight smile to crack onto his face.

“Yea…” he said quietly. He promptly received a pillow in the face.

“Ew. Quit acting like a smitten maiden, it’s grossing me out,” Taehyung grumbled. “But now that I think about it you two should totally date. He’s like your complement: you two complete each other.”

“Ha, as if I have a chance now,” Jungkook sighed. “I’m lucky he just laughed it off. But he probably thinks I’m a loser.”

“Well, he’d find out you’re a loser eventually anyways so it’s better now than later,” Taehyung noted.

Jungkook threw his friend the dirtiest look.

“Anyways, I love how you didn’t even bother putting two and two together: he was obviously your tutor. Why else would he go up to you? You think you’re cute or something?” Taehyung snickered.

Jungkook returned the pillow back to Taehyung with an aggressive throw (but missed). “Shut up. Unlike you, I didn’t have enough sleep last night.”

“Excuses. When do math majors ever get enough sleep? When do we even get anything? We’re all here because we secretly like the pain.”

“Last time I checked I wasn’t a masochist like you.”

“Check again, brother. We all are to some extent,” Taehyung grinned. “Anyways, when are you seeing him again?”

“Friday night,” Jungkook muttered.

“Where?”

“…my place.”

“Ooh.”

Ding dong!

The sound of the doorbell caused Jungkook to jump in his place, accidentally popping his collar up too high as he tried to adjust it.

“Omg, he’s here,” Jungkook muttered to himself, as he practically scampered over to the door and whipped it open.

“H—hey t—there…I mean…uh, sup?” Jungkook sputtered smoothly the moment he caught sight of his spiffy tutor.

Park Jimin blessed Jungkook with a pretty close lipped smile.

“Your grades should be after I’m done with you,” Jimin winked, brushing past Jungkook as he stepped inside.

Jungkook blinked, clearly too slow to get the quip. “What?”

“Where should I hang my coat up, Jungkook?” Jimin asked while Jungkook fumbled with the door.

“Uh—um, I can take it,” Jungkook said quickly, trying not to stare awkwardly as Jimin peeled off his coat. To anyone else, the familiar dress shirt, black tie and tight slacks may not have been the most arousing costume to reveal underneath, but Jeon Jungkook sure as hell tried to hide his gulp as he took the coat from Jimin.

Would it weird if I suddenly just buried my face into this and—yeah, yeah it would. Never mind. Jungkook shook the thoughts out of his mind as he quickly hung the coat in the closet.

“So, where do you want me?” Jimin asked.

“My bedroom,” Jungkook blurted.

“Excuse me?”

“Uh—I meant that we’d be studying i-in my room…y’know, cause there’s a desk and I-I cleared up a space f-for us,” Jungkook stuttered like the absolute value of a loser that he was. Oh my god, this speech issue needs to STOP.

“Oh okay,” Jimin nodded. “Sounds good. Lead the way.”

Jungkook nodded eagerly, and practically leapt two steps up the stairs as he took Jimin to his room. He’d spent the entire morning attempting to clean it up in order to potentially impress his evidently immaculate tutor.

Jungkook opened the door and showed Jimin to the sitting desk that he’d set up.

“You can set up here,” Jungkook gestured. “D-do you want some tea or something in the meantime?”

“It’s fine, let’s just get right to it,” Jimin smiled softly. Jungkook thought he felt his heart skip a beat when Jimin said that. He was weak. So, so weak right now.

And whether or not Jimin noticed, he did manage to say some comforting words: “Relax, I’m not here to make you feel incompetent or anything. I remember struggling insanely in my second year as well, so I’m the last person who’d make fun of you.”

“What year are you in now?” Jungkook asked as he settled down across from Jimin.

“Third,” Jimin smirked. “I’m not saying it gets better, but at this point, at least you’re used to it.”

“Wait…are you taking third year Real Analysis?”

“Yeah, why? Are you planning on taking it next year?”

“Well…things happened…and I’m actually taking the course right now…”

Jimin’s face lit up. “Actually? That means we’re in the same class! What are the chances…wait, how come I’ve never seen you before then?”

It’s because I never go to class, Jungkook thought shamefully. But he couldn’t let Jimin know. Fortunately, Jimin beat him to an excuse.

“Hmm…it’s probably because I always sit alone at the very front row, which is why I don’t see you,” Jimin noted.

“Y-yeah, that’s it,” Jungkook quickly agreed.

“Hey, we should totally sit together from now on!” Jimin blurted suddenly. “I could help you understand what the professor is saying and you…you can keep me company.”

Jungkook was speechless. It hadn’t even been ten minutes and he had already been offered a seat next to his tutor/eternal crush in lecture. For someone in the math program, that was like getting to second base…right? (At least that’s what Taehyung told him all the way in first year.)

Jimin suddenly let out a slight chuckle at Jungkook’s lack of response. “I’m sorry, you must think I’m such a loser,” he confessed awkwardlty. “The nerd that sits at the front of class. Alone. All my friends didn’t want to take the course because they thought it’d be too difficult.”

Jungkook immediately felt a surge of guilt for all the “nerd lord” comments.

“No! No way! Not at all!” Jungkook blabbered in a hurry, waving his hands everywhere. “I-I’ve always thought it was the cooler kids that sat at the front. You know, the ones that truly care and have connections with the prof and stuff.” The latter part, at least, was his genuine thought.

“If you say so,” Jimin smiled. “What about you? Why did you take the course early? You must’ve really liked second year analysis.”

“Um…well…” Jungkook shuffled uncomfortably in his place.

“It’s fine to admit you like it,” Jimin said. “I find it really interesting, personally. Even though I know it’s not exactly the easiest thing.”

“I…I was kind of pranked into taking it…”

“…what?”

Jungkook sighed. “One of my friends told me it would be an easy course to take a minute before course applications were due and…I believed him. I haven’t even taken the second year analysis. I’m just really lost and confused.”

Jimin appeared stunned. “You…you actually believed Analysis, an entire proof-based course, would be an easy course?”

Jungkook nodded unwillingly.

Jimin remained silent for a few more moments before he recovered enough to speak:

“Wow, Jungkook, you really are going to be a handful, aren’t you?”

  Jungkook screamed, shoving his head into his papers.

“I don’t get it!” he yelled.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! We’ve already spent so much time and I just don’t understand. It’s a knot in my mind and I just—”

“Jungkook, relax—” Jimin tried as he reached out with his hands in an attempt to calm Jungkook down.

“—I knew I didn’t stand a chance. I’m totally gonna fail this course. I accept it now.”

“Jungkook, calm down….it’s only been five minutes.”

Jungkook’s head perked up. “What? Oh.” He scuffled away, looking embarrassed. “It felt a lot longer than that…”

Jimin laughed at Jungkook’s antics. “I’m sorry you felt that way,” Jimin smiled encouragingly. “I must’ve been a bad teacher then.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened. “No! No, no, no! That’s not it at all! I’m clearly just stupid, that’s all.”

“Don’t say that about yourself,” Jimin scolded. “I wouldn’t be teaching you if I knew you were hopeless.”

“But like you said, it’s only been five minutes,” Jungkook mumbled.

“Exactly, now flip back to that first lecture and let me teach you.”

Jungkook reluctantly flipped Jimin’s pages back to where they were before, trying to hide his blatant disregard for the topic.

“Don’t look so bored before you even started,” Jimin said as he hit Jungkook lightly on the shoulder. Though he didn’t want to admit it, Jungkook definitely felt a tiny shiver where his attractive teacher’s fingers had lingered.

“But…it’s such a dull topic,” Jungkook groaned, staring at the page of symbols that ought to have been familiar to him…but were not.

“Really? I don’t think so. Difficult to wrap your head around maybe, but definitely not boring,” Jimin stated.

Jungkook shuffled again. “Yeah, well…”

“I’ll do my best to persuade you by the end of all this,” Jimin grinned.

“You seem so passionate about this.”

“Well, of course,” Jimin said at once. “It’s learning how to rigorously prove why we do things the way we do: why we count the way we do, what numbers truly are, why things defined are the way they are. I mean, we only scratch the surface of it all by the end of the course but it’s still quite a beautiful concept. Just like all of math. It’s more abstract than you think. It’s like its own form of art.”

Jungkook couldn’t help but be drawn in by the genuine smile on Jimin’s face as he spoke all of these things that seemed worlds away from how Jungkook felt.

“Wow…” Jungkook uttered dumbly. “I never really thought about math that way…”

Jimin’s smile temporarily disappeared from his face as he turned to look at Jungkook.

“Really?!” Jimin seemed shocked. “Aren’t you in second year?”

Jungkook gulped.

Jimin tilted his head upwards in thought. “Hmm…well I guess it still hasn’t gotten too specific in second year. You still have time. Anyways, I think I’ve rambled on enough. Let’s go ahead and teach you how to prove two is an irrational number…”

Jungkook’s heart throbbed for Jimin as he diligently wrote out the proof for Jungkook, annotating verbally and in detail as he went. After seeing Jimin’s full dedication towards the field of math, Jungkook really didn’t have the heart to tell him that he didn’t feel the same way at all.

But as he continued watching Jimin scribbling out the proof, his handwriting neat and clear, each number crisp and pristine on the sheet of lined paper, Jungkook couldn’t help but become slightly intrigued. The way the tutor’s wrist was poised as he scrawled out his “there exist”s and “such that”s; the way his eyes lit up as he subtly sped up in excitement towards the end…

“There! All finished!” Jimin announced, as he drew two diagonal straight lines to signify the end of his proof. Jungkook said nothing, and merely sat there quietly, carefully observing Jimin’s vibrant and pure expression which had arose from something as mundane as demonstrating a proof.

It was obvious that Jungkook didn’t have the same amount about of passion when it came to math…

…for now.

  The feeling of going to a class you hadn’t been to in so long was definitely not a good one.

Despite that bothersome feeling, Jungkook’s lips couldn’t refrain from quirking upwards, knowing who was waiting for him inside.

“Hey, we should totally sit together from now on! I could help you understand what the professor is saying and you…you can keep me company.”

The words echoed repeatedly in the void that was Jungkook’s mind. He tried to hide the wide smile that was cracking onto his face by covering it up with his phone. At the same time, he also kind of needed to check the room number of the lecture hall that he hadn’t been to since the first day of class.

At long last, the doors were in sight. Jungkook practically burst inside, his eyes scanning past the tall, lanky prof and the various cliques of well-dressed Asians and bespectacled over achievers to search for his one and only target in the front row.

As he was wondering whether or not to call out, Jimin noticed him first and waved excitedly, mouthing his name. Feeling slightly embarrassed and not wanting to attract any further attention to himself, Jungkook slightly ducked as he ran over to Jimin.

“Hey, did you have any classes before this?” Jimin asked effortlessly, as if he naturally started conversations all the time (a trait that was foreign to Jungkook).

“No, this is my earliest class,” Jungkook responded stiffly as he arranged his bag below his feet. It was strange to sit in the front row—there was a surprising amount of leg space.

“Lucky~” Jimin drawled, tapping his pen on the side of his tiny desk. “I had an 8:30 this morning. I almost fell asleep.”

“You seem like the early bird type though,” Jungkook commented.

“Really?!” Jimin gaped. “What made you think that?”

“I don’t know...” Jungkook trailed off when he suddenly noticed that Jimin looked…different. Gone were the tie and button-up, to be replaced with a casual black hoodie and a pair of ripped, denim jeans. He looked like any other regular college student.

Well, an extremely cute regular college boy.

“You look different,” Jungkook opted to say.

“Hmm? From what?” Jimin asked, confused.

“From last night.” Jungkook thought he sensed a few people throw questionable looks in their direction as they heard the phrase without context.

Jimin burst into a vibrant laugh. “You didn’t really think I’d come to class in a tie and slacks, did you?” 

“Well…I—”

“That was because I didn’t know what kind of student you’d be, so I wanted to show up professional,” Jimin grinned.

Jimin suddenly leaned over the chair arm separating them, ending up much closer  to Jungkook than he expected. Another brilliant smile. Jungkook was going to die of a heart attack at this rate.

“I take this as I won’t have to anymore?” Jimin asked, dragging his words out deliberately. “Are you more comfortable with me like this?”

Jungkook stared blankly, having been rendered speechless. Oh my god, how am I going to deal with this? Is he flirting with me? I can’t tell. Do math people even flirt? They have to right? I mean, professors are all married so they must—

“Jungkook?”

“Y-yeah?”

“You dropped your pen, by the way”

Jungkook blinked, only to realize that Jimin was suddenly holding a battered blue pen in his hand.

Oh. So that’s why he leaned over.

 “Oh, um, thanks…” Jungkook muttered quickly, grabbing his pen and averting his eyes at once.

“Good morning everybody!” the professor called out. He let out a sigh under his breath. Phew. Saved by the prof. For once.

The professor continued speaking with his thick foreign accent. “Today we will be continuing with the definition of convergence and divergence…”

Jungkook immediately zoned out. Nope. It didn’t even matter that he told himself he’d actually try and pay attention in order impress Jimin for once—neither his heart nor mind seemed to be truly up for it. It was all gibberish, foreign gibberish to him (and some of it even looked like the written script of some language he didn’t know—what the hell was ∀n∊N ∃ x > ∞ supposed to mean?)

 The professor was trying to ask questions again, something about a diverging function and Jungkook only sank further into his seat. Why did professors even bother trying sometimes? They should know after so many years of teaching that the only response they’d be getting was a long, uneasy silence.

 “Jimin?” The professor called the familiar name, his eyes suddenly directed towards Jungkook’s direction.

 Wait, what?!  Jungkook bolted upwards from his slouched position under the professor’s eye and swiftly glanced beside him to catch Jimin just lowering his hand having just raised it.

 Jungkook stared with widened eyes, almost veering away from the sudden shock.

 Oh my god. The prof knows his name. He’s literally that guy.

 “That’s false because even when you have two divergent functions, their product isn’t necessarily divergent as well,” Jimin answered with the most confident smile on his face. “Like (-1)n and (-1)n.”

 The professor appeared flustered for a moment, but immediately restored himself with a proud smile.

 “You’re going a bit ahead but that’s ok, Jimin,” the professor acknowledged. “So as Jimin said…”

But Jungkook wasn’t even listening anymore. Did he even understand a word of what Jimin just said? Not really. He could only stare at Jimin, speechless, and not even trying to bother to hide the slight smile on his face. His heart throbbed violently in his chest. He thought he had sensed it last night, when Jimin completed solving the problem, but after witnessing what he’d just seen, it was all the proof he needed.

The eloquence in which Jimin spoke his words; the confident aura that radiated when he answered the professor without batting an eyelash; the correct and overachieving solution that he’d provided; the thoroughness of the response that proved he knew what he knew; and the numbers and words that spilled out of his mouth as he spoke with that proud and knowing smile…

That was just so…so…

Jungkook gulped, trying to hold the thought back but couldn’t.

..so sexy.

So when Jimin turned to face him, he nearly jumped in his seat, forgetting that as brilliant as Jimin was, he still couldn’t read minds.  

“Pretty cool, huh?” Jimin grinned, not noticing Jungkook’s expression as his mind still appeared to be caught up in all the deductions.

Yes you are, Jungkook wanted to say.

“Yeah…totally,” Jungkook responded dumbly. “You’re so good…at this.”

For the rest of the class, Jimin intently watched the prof while Jungkook intently watched Jimin. His heart welled up every time Jimin raised his hand to answer a question. Each and every proof sounded more and more eloquent as they came from Jimin’s lips. He could see the girls in the row behind them rolling their eyes and whispering to one another as Jimin kept raising his hand over and over again but he couldn’t care less.  

Jungkook caught himself smiling again before he knew it. He gazed endearingly at Jimin’s profile, who was bent over and scribbling something detailed in his notes. Jimin’s eyes had never seemed this lovely before, not without that spark of excitement within them. And his lips were prettier like this, parted in anticipation as he focussed keenly on the numbers before him.

Jungkook’s heart raced faster and faster as he kept staring dumbstruck at Jimin. As he realized something, Jungkook merely sighed to himself, leaning his hand into face as he continued gazing.

So this must be the beauty of math…

  Jimin had class after analysis so Jungkook had to reluctantly part ways with him. Jungkook immediately headed to the familiar Room 441 in the math building, which was the lab where Namjoon worked. Luckily for them, the supervising professor was extremely easy-going, and apparently didn’t seem to care when (his favourite student) Namjoon let all his friends hang out in the lab. Thus, their little group would usually be found hanging out in Namjoon’s lab whenever the prof was out of office.

When Jungkook opened the door, he found the guests of the hour to be Seokjin and their friend Jung Hoseok from Math & Computer Science.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Namjoon waved from his desk. Seokjin and Hoseok didn’t seem to notice as they appeared to be in a deep debate over something.

“Hey,” Jungkook responded, slightly airily as he settled down and pulled his lunch out of his bag.

“Can you at least greet your friend?” Namjoon glared at Seokjin and Hoseok as he chomped down on an apple.

Seokjin’s eyes lit up when he saw Jungkook. “Oh my gosh, finally! A third person! Get over here.”

Jungkook scrambled over and sat next to them, slightly flustered “Why? What is it?”

“You know Dr. Pae, right?” Seokjin asked, almost urgent.

“Yeah, the one who’s popular with all the girls?” Jungkook nodded. “Why?”

 “Okay, so you know how he has a girlfriend, right?” Seokjin continued. “The really attractive blonde one?”

“…sure?”

Seokjin slammed his fist down the desk, startling everyone in the lab.

Namjoon tried negotiating between mouthfuls of apple. “Yo, dude, can you like calm dow—”

“Well this boy here—“ Seokjin paused dramatically, pointing at Hoseok. “—claims to have seen him holding hands with a brunette the other day. And guess what? Guess what? He was guiding her with his hand while she was walking over a stone path. Can you believe it? The man’s got game. Man I didn’t know that was what game theory was really about, because if I had known, I would have taken that course.”

“For the last time,” Hoseok grimaced, also placing his hand firmly on the table. “Just because he was holding hands with her, doesn’t necessarily mean they’re in a romantic relationship.”

“He was walking her over a stone path though!” Seokjin argued. “That’s so romance! Who even does that?”

“Maybe she was his sister or something. You don’t know that,” Hoseok asserted.

“Would you hold hands with your sister and guide her over a path for no apparent reason?” Seokjin snarled back, getting more and more aggressive.

“…no.”

“Exactly!”

“But that’s just me though!” Hoseok blurted, on the edge of his seat to fight for his argument. “I’m sure there are brothers out there who would hold hands with their sister.”

“Yeah, if you’re like weirdly close,” Seokjin frowned. “Anyways, Jungkook, we wanted to wait for you to come. What do you think? Romantic or platonic?”

Jungkook stared blankly as he took another bite of his sandwich, trying to avoid the assertive gazes from the both of them as they awaited an answer.

“Um…” Jungkook dwelled as he chewed on his sandwich. “Why don’t you ask Namjoon?”

Seokjin waved his hand dismissively. “You know how he always is. All provisos. He’s always like—“ He dropped his voice three pitches lower. “—everything is situational. We cannot place assumptions until we have more evidence. Blah blah blah—”

“I do not sound like that,” Namjoon interrupted.

“Be quiet, do your work,” Seokjin snapped. “Jungkook, just answer it. Which do you think?”

“Uhh…I agree with Namjoon,” Jungkook replied quickly.

Seokjin threw his hands up in defeat while Hoseok slammed his head on his keyboard.

“Freaking useless. All of you,” Seokjin groaned, stabbing his fork angrily into a piece of chicken. “We’ll settle this now. I can’t handle all these scandals in the math department. First Dr. Lee’s sugar daddy scandal with Dr. Choi and now Dr. Pae. That’s why you get a PhD in math: so you can gain an unbelievable amount of game. Let me market this program, please. I’ll show you what true exponential growth is. “

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Namjoon groaned from behind his computer.

“Oi, where’s Yoongi? Call him. I need to finish this,” Seokjin commanded.

“He has class,” said Hoseok. “He’s coming in like half an hour though.”

“Darn it, I have class then,” Seokjin sighed. “It’s ok. You can ask him and I’ll ask some of my other friends.”

“Why don’t you guys sample for something that might actually be worthwhile data for once?” Namjoon asked cynically.

“Because then I’d have to do more work analyzing it,” said Hoseok. “And I ain’t about that life.”

Seokjin checked his watched, frowning to himself. “I really don’t wanna go to class…” he sighed to himself.

“Yo, we’re math kids,” Hoseok said. “None of us ever wanna go to class. But we have to.”

“Namjoon does,” Seokjin scoffed. “Always.”

“So does Jimin,” Jungkook mentioned subsconsciously, without thinking.

Silence.

“Um…who’s Jimin?” Hoseok asked.

“The guy that’s tutoring him right now,” Seokjin answered. “Thanks to my brilliant suggestion, of course. Well, unless it’s not going well. What’s he like, by the way, Jungkook?”

“He’s like…um…” Jungkook struggled to find the proper words to describe his new tutor.

It suddenly struck him out of nowhere.

“He’s like…Euler’s identity.”

Namjoon dropped his chewed up apple. Hoseok spilled all of his rice while Seokjin merely stared.

“Oh my god, he thinks he’s unworldly and irrevocably beautiful,” Seokjin gaped.

“Jungkook, since when did you even know what that meant?” Namjoon asked.

Hoseok grinned. “It looks like he’s finally got a crush.”

“On Jimin though?” Seokjin gaped. “I mean his grades may be way above average but his looks…they’re a minor fraction of mine. Not even close.”

“What? Are you blind?” Jungkook blurted as he couldn’t help it.

The three others in the room exchanged confused looks (though Seokjin’s was marginally more offended).

 Hoseok was the first one to break into a mocking smile. “I think you’re the one who’s blind here,” he said. “Blind for lurve~”

“Shut up!” Jungkook retorted. “I mean, I just met him so…”

“But you do seem awfully smitten already,” Namjoon noted objectively, to which Jungkook had no response.

Seokjin sighed from the side. “Well, there’s really no reason for me to prevent this from happening…for now. But you better not get distracted. He’s there to help your grades. Not…anything else.”

“Like Namjoon helped you back then?” Hoseok cackled from the side, after which he received a wad of napkins in the face, courtesy of Kim Seokjin.

“Anyways, I want to see your grades improve,” Seokjin stated firmly. “Otherwise it defeats the whole purpose of you meeting Jimin.”

Jungkook nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure they will. He’s a good teacher. He’s been very helpful.”

“I’m sure he has,” Hoseok snorted, clearly not giving up the opportunity.

“Can you not encourage him?” Seokjin scolded. “He’s clearly side-tracked enough as it is. Please don’t alter my good intentions.”

“Yeah, I’d never let him live it down,” Namjoon murmured gleefully from the side.

“Can you be quiet? It’s better than you! You just sit there all day and let them do whatever they want,” Seokjin retorted.

“But if he falls in love and gets distracted, I’m gonna’ be right and you’re going to be wrong,” Namjoon considered.

“…are you seriously contemplating the possibility of your junior’s undergraduate career being ruined just so you can be right?”

Namjoon shook his head defensively. “Of course not! Jungkook’s a smart kid…well, he’s passing everything. So I’m sure having a healthy, fun relationship with an intelligent guy wouldn’t hurt anybody. So go get him Kookie.”

“No. The only thing that he’s getting from Jimin is better grades,” Seokjin asserted firmly, seeming completely satisfied with himself.

That is, until Hoseok decided he really, truly could not resist:

“…what if he ends up getting a D instead though?”

For the first time that entire morning, Namjoon had to stand up. And that was only to hold Seokjin back from throwing a chair at Hoseok.

  Jungkook crawled into bed earlier than usual that night, feeling strangely enlightened. His chest felt lighter than usual, as if just seeing Jimin for just that hour alone made it all worth it. In fact, if it hadn’t been for all that chaos in Namjoon’s lab, he might have felt completely at ease for the first time in a while.

He couldn’t help but smirk to himself as he cozied under his covers. Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t like math up until now…

Jungkook sighed, arms tucked under his head as he stared at the dark ceiling. Park Jimin. The only thought that seemed capable of occupying his mind. He wanted to witness it again: that eloquence, that beauty when Jimin solved problems.

When he could no longer resist that aching feeling in his chest, Jungkook reached over to his bedside table and grabbed his phone. His finger hovered over the mail app, almost longingly, before he touched it completely on impulse.

Jungkook straightened up to write his message.

  J, Jungkook

<no subject>

Hey jimin,

r u free at all tomorrow? I only have one class

I could use some help

sorry if ur busy it’s fine

 Unlike the first time, Jungkook couldn’t press send fast enough. His hands quivered as the email was confirmed to be sent. And hopefully, if it was anything like before…

Ping!

His heart nearly dropped in his chest. His mind was ahead of his body as his fingers fumbled to open the message.

  Park, Jimin

Lunch Date?

Jungkookie!

Don’t be sorry, I’d always be glad to hear from you ^^

I’m free around lunch time so is there anything you’d like to eat?

 uhjdugv

Jimin

 He felt like a complete loser, smiling from ear to ear all alone in his bed as he read Jimin’s message. Jungkook could hear Jimin’s encouraging tone of voice in his head, and it was more than gratifying.

And also…what was this about a date?

Jungkook’s heart did a bunch of flips and turns just speculating about what may-be-but-not-really a date with his dreamboat of a tutor.

It’s a…study date. Yeah. That’s all it is. Jungkook tried to calm himself down with the reassuring conclusion.

First thing first, he needed to answer Jimin’s question, with eloquence and tact, as Jeon Jungkook would always do when approaching a crush:

  J, Jungkook

Re:

yeeeeeeee totally down.

 And also correlating to Jeon Jungkook’s regular behaviour, he only realized how rash and stupid his decision was after he had executed it.

Jungkook buried his entire body beneath his blanket and kicked around violently, not realizing how dumb he sounded until now that the message was declared to be “sent”.  

Down? What the hell am I? He’s not Taehyung. I can’t just say whatever I want! Oh my god. What is wrong with me.

The morbidity was too much for his partially unscathed soul as he continuing abusing his blanket and bed, slamming his fists and kicking his legs. That’s it. It was all ruined. His one chance to get a nice tutor and even potentially, with the slimmest probability, a cute boyfriend and he had to ruin all those confidence levels in a heartbeat.

Another ping sounded from his phone, momentarily pausing his rampage as he poked his head out from the bottom of the covers near his bed’s footboard (god knows how he ended up there). He immediately blazed the LCD glow directly into his eyes.

  Park, Jimin

Re:

Haha. You’re cute.

I’ll see you tomorrow :3

 uhjdugv

Jimin

 Jungkook’s eyes widened, after which they blinked slowly in disbelief. Luckily it was dark and there was no one else in the room, because he felt himself turning as red as his hoody from that morning.

Oh my god…did he just call me…cute?

He was frozen in shook. This can’t be real. Not already. Since when did he deserve good things? If the Park Jimin thought he was cute, surely karma didn’t exist.

He countered the negatives in his head, though he did it by adding alternative negative thoughts.

Maybe he just says that to everyone. There’s no way he could think I’m cute, not already.

Jungkook swivelled around on his bed like a confused tortoise, bringing his chin back to rest on his pillows. He pursed his lips into a pout, wondering how to deal with himself. Jimin was slowly but surely corrupting his mind—not that there was much left to corrupt anyways—and this probably wasn’t the best timing.  Seokjin was probably going to kill him.

Jungkook sighed to himself, finally flipping himself over into a sleeping position at last. He tucked his arms behind his head, closing his eyes and trying to put himself to sleep after what felt like a long day. Tomorrow was a different day, and sleeping it off was the only thing he could do now to calm his nerves.

When his eyes finally fluttered shut, Jungkook found himself having rather sweet dreams about Jimin that night.

By 2:30 p.m., Jungkook was already waiting in the lobby of their school library.

 Despite how eagerly his heart was thumping in anticipation, he tried to maintain a casual appearance. Jungkook had pulled out brand new, unworn shirt and jeans from the closet for this occasion, and he’d already fixed his hair for the nth time that morning (despite that it was near impossible for a strand to be out of place because he’d checked at least another hundred times before he left the house). Needless to say, he wanted Jimin to be impressed for once.

Jungkook bit his lip in anxiety as he checked his watch again (he also never wore watches so the action itself seemed extremely foreign to him). Jimin was late. Again. And he couldn’t help but feel impatient about it.

“Jungkook-ah!”

Jungkook nearly dropped his phone as he heard the voice that he’d been so anxiously waiting for. His eyes lit up as he saw Jimin heading towards him with the brightest smile, black hair bouncing pleasantly as he ran.

“Sorry, I’m late!” Jimin gasped, catching his breath. “The professor kept me overtime. Did you wait long?”

Jungkook returned what he thought to be his most encouraging smile. “No! Not at all! I just got here as well,” he said convincingly.  

Despite that he’d spent hours getting dressed in the morning, Jungkook still felt far from worthy of comparison to Jimin. Even though it looked like he wasn’t trying at all, Jimin had to be at the very, very least an 8 out of 10 in his glasses, bomber jacket and ripped jeans.

Jungkook held back a sigh. Their little date hadn’t even started yet and he already felt discouraged.

“So, where did you want to go?” Jimin asked.

“Nowhere in particular, as long as it’s with you,” Jungkook answered, the last part coming out a lot more honestly than he’d intended.

Fortunately, Jimin’s smiled only widened. “That’s good. I had a particular place in mind. And you look like you could use a little sweetness in your life.”

Jungkook blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he frowned, blatantly confused. Is sweetness supposed to code for something?

Jimin laughed, seeming embarrassed.

“Nothing. I just wanted to…joke around a little…”

Moments later, Jungkook found himself sitting with Jimin at a nearby desserts café, with a giant strawberry and chocolate waffle sitting in front of him, topped with insane ice cream and whipped cream quantities that could only be considered outliers.

The cringing agony arrived much too late for Jungkook. Oh my god, he was trying to tell a punny joke and I was too busy trying to analyze whether or not he was flirting with me that I didn’t even bother laughing. This is already going wrong. So. Horribly. Wrong.

But all this time, Jimin hadn’t seemed to notice. He was just pleasantly sipping on his customized hot mocha beverage that had a cute latte heart design in it, humming slightly as he flipped back and forth through the notebook he was holding in his hands.

“Um…Jimin?” Jungkook spoke up.

Jimin looked up from his pages, meeting eye contact with Jungkook as he adjusted his glasses.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asked, mildly concerned. “Did you not like it? My friend swears it’s good.”

Jungkook gulped, trying not to let himself be distracted by the glory that was bespectacled Jimin. “You really didn’t have to buy this for me…”

Jimin dropped his notebook, reaching up to push his glasses onto his nose bridge before looking directly at Jungkook (whose heart skipped a beat with 100% certainty) as he spoke:

“We’re all poor university students,” he said rationally, with a gentle smile. “You know better than to give up free food. Now eat up before it all melts.”

It took a few moments for Jungkook to even process what Jimin was talking about—he had been distracted by glasses after all. Surprisingly and spontaneously obedient, Jungkook nodded promptl as he swiftly picked up his fork with a shaky hand and pressed through the soft cream and pastry.

“Now,” Jimin continued speaking as he leaned his pretty face into hand and looked at Jungkook through his glasses. “Should we start going through these notes or should I wait until you finish eating?”

Jungkook wanted to slam his head into the wall. His mind was clearly not in the right places, not after seeing that upward gaze that appeared much too sultry for no reason in particular.  

“Feel see to fart!” he blurted. Shit. “I mean, feel free to start!” The idea of stabbing himself with the fork to end it all was slowly becoming more and more attractive.

Curtly, Jimin ignored Jungkook’s little stumble and proceeded to go through how to calculate expectations and variances of a distribution. Jungkook tried hard to listen, he really did, but he kept slipping in and out of a distracting mood. He continued staring at Jimin, the way his bangs slightly fell over the frame of his glasses as he was bent over and writing on the paper.

Jungkook sucked on his fork, eyes slightly lidded as he watched Jimin. Hmm…this waffle tastes so, so much sweeter than I expected it to…

“Do you get it, Jungkook?” Jimin asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

Jungkook tried to not choke on the whipped cream. “Hmmph, what?” he garbled unattractively.

“Do you get what the difference is between an expectation and a variance?”

Jungkook stared blankly. “Uh, well…”

Jimin shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. “If you don’t get it, Jungkook, you can just tell me,” he said. “Honestly, don’t be afraid, despite what you’ve heard about me.”

Jungkook’s attention was suddenly caught. “Hmm? What? What have I heard about you?”

Jimin smiled. He added an unexpected shrug before saying, “Well I don’t know, Jungkook. Last I heard someone thought I was a ‘nerd lord’, didn’t he?”

Jungkook froze. I’m gonna kill that lanky asshole, he thought ominously, as the mental image of Kim Taehyung’s best trolling face floated into his mind.

He laughed nervously, scratching the nape of his neck as he spoke next. “Well, that was like…before I knew you. And stuff.”

“Really?” Jimin asked, leaning forwards slightly. “Well…what’s changed since then?”

Jungkook felt like he’d been pushed into a corner, not sure how to answer this. Especially when Park Jimin was looking at him so expectantly, with a slight curve on his lips like that.

“Um....you’re…you’re actually a good teacher?” Jungkook said stiffly, trying to say anything but the things that were a bit more easily retrievable within his conscious mind. 

“Oh,” Jimin pursed his lips, barely looking disappointed. He sank back into his seat, flipping quickly through his notes as Jungkook was left alone to contemplate what he had done wrong.

“Why don’t you try this problem for me?” Jimin said, pushing the notebook towards Jungkook. Jungkook took the pages hesitantly, and wondered if he was only imagining that Jimin’s tone had become slightly colder than before.

Deciding to ignore his qualms, Jungkook grabbed his pencil and kept his head down and focussed in determination. Regardless of how it would turn out with Jimin, he should probably focus on the real reason why he was there in the first place.

But much to his dismay, he found that the distractions had been too much, as always. He kept writing and erasing, scratching out answers and replacing it with others. Before long, his page was a mess, and he wasn’t any closer to the answer.

He gritted his teeth, erasing yet another line. C’mon Jungkook, focus. If you want him to not be discouraged of teaching you, you gotta try harder.

But it seemed hopeless. The overcrowded page seemed to mock him with ridicule, questioning why he was starting to confuse his variables and miswrite his numbers. It was starting to give him a headache just to look at.

He heard Jimin shuffle from across him. Oh no, he’s leaving. Crap. Why do I have to be so stupid? His eyebrows scrunched in annoyance as wrote down something that seemed to be right, but he had already seen before.

“Need help?” Jimin’s voice asked suddenly, right next to him.

Jungkook finally let out the sigh of frustration he had been holding in for so long. He turned towards the direction of Jimin’s voice.

“Yes! I’m sorry I—”

Jungkook stopped midsentence as he found that Jimin’s face was right in front of him, as Jimin was bent over his shoulder and looking intently at the problem in front of them. He leaned back slightly in an instant, though it was still close enough for him to realize how smooth and soft-looking Jimin’s poufy cheeks were.

“You’re actually on the right track, Jungkook,” said Jimin, as he gazed knowingly at Jungkook’s messy work. “Besides…”

Much to the dismay of Jungkook’s poor, soft and fragile heart, Park Jimin had to turn at that very moment so that their eyes and lips were less than centimetres away from each other.

“I’ve never seen you try that hard before…” Jimin said. It was as if his voice was coated with sugar.

Jungkook visibly gulped, not even bothering trying to hide it. He tried to lean back some more but there was no room left to go.

“You were really cute,” Jimin murmured as his smile widened. “I’ve never seen you like that before.”

Ba-dump.

It was a miracle Jeon Jungkook didn’t faint right there and then.

end of part 1!

part 2 coming soon on tumblr OR read the full story on AO3 ^^

A/N: ...yeah. Part of me hates myself for doing this can you tell? XD Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it at least a little~ and saw a new perspective on math through this :3

Anyways, I neglected my midterm to squeeze this out in time for VDay so I hope it made you smile, somewhere, somehow :D

[cookinguptales]

seasonal femslash??

guys, idk what this is, I just found it on my hard drive. I think I wrote it last year sometime? it’s like nature slash with a dash of global warming meet cute. uhhh I don’t really have an explanation for this.

Lys didn't mind the hibernation, not really. The life of a dryad was long, and the length of a season was short. It felt more like a sorely needed nap than the almost-death that the air spirits who whispered through her leaves seemed to think it was. All creatures needed sleep, and she'd always found hers very restful. She'd start to feel it come upon her as the summer evenings dwindled, the warmth sapping from her branches, the vitality dripping from her leaves. And as she felt the creeping chill start to numb her bark-like skin, she loosed her hair and let her leaves fly. She readied herself for slumber.

She didn't mind the hibernation, or she hadn't minded the hibernation, until she'd seen the frost. Lys was usually long asleep by the time the first frost came, resting peacefully inside the tree that housed her even as the cold wind howled outside its bark. She'd heard that things were different for her sisters in other lands, that their frosts would often come before their leaves had even had a chance to change, but it wasn't an experience she'd had in her own life. She knew of the frost, of course. She'd felt it, cool fingers and soft breath, as she'd dreamed. But it wasn't until she saw her footfalls that she fully understood what sort of spirit carried the frost to a slumbering land.

She walked slowly, purposefully, across the field in which Lys had laid her roots, but her feet did not sink into the grass. She skimmed the blades, light like a water skimmer, heavy like the fog, and she left ice in her wake. She was so bright that she was almost painful to look at, but Lys could see that her long, pale hair streamed behind her on wind that never came. Her eyes were old, older than Lys had ever seen through all her seasons, all her years, all her trees. Lys looked into them, and she fell.

"Hail, sister," the spirit said, and her voice was odd, here and gone again like light refracting through ice.

Lys breathed in, warm sunshine and cool carbon, and she knew that this being was not her sister. Despite that, she peeked from her tree, allowed her own dark tresses to separate themselves from the bark and be seen. "Good morning," she answered.

The frost spirit's eyes were so old, her skin so porcelain-pale, that it came as a shock when she smiled, and those eyes glinted with mischief. "Ah, the dryad. Always watching the sun."

"What is there more beautiful?" she replied, and five minutes ago, those words would have been true.

"Cool moonlight," the spirit said. "That won't melt the ice I lay."

"Then you're late, aren't you?" Lys said, and shook out her leaves just a bit. "Or rather very early."

The spirit laughed, and ah, glory and light. Lys had never heard anything quite like it. "The paths are changing now. Haven't you felt it?"

Lys had felt it. Of course she'd felt it. The seasons, short as they were, had been confusing. But none so mixed up that a frost spirit should be coming to visit so early. The frost wandered in a way that a tree never would; even the dryads that moved between trees, as Lys had before, liked roots that were near to their own. So maybe she could never understand what it meant to be tethered to the sky rather than the ground. She'd always liked following paths, not creating them. And those paths, the paths of the earth, they didn't change so quickly.

All that, though, didn't change the frost at her doorstep. Beautiful as though her visitor was, Lys's nose wrinkled up. "I feel you standing over my roots," she said. The frost's chill was sinking through the ground now, and it wasn't pleasant.

"Pardon," the spirit said, but she didn't move away, and she didn't stop smiling. "I'm afraid you're on my new route."

And Lys, she'd never been awake for the frost before, but she'd heard of it. She heard that it came back. "You're not going to do this every day?" she asked, and honestly wasn't sure which answer she'd prefer. The idea of this luminous being coming to call was -- was breathtaking in a way that nothing had been in a very long time. But all this mess about paths and ice and very cold roots. Lys didn't like that one bit.

“I do very little every day,” the spirit replied, and Lys could see the laughter in her eyes. Of course. A dryad found cycles comforting, loved waking up each morning and reaching up toward the sun during its slow march across the heavens. Days became years, rings upon rings, and their lives were made up of those circles. Life was pleasant when the beginning and the end were the same.

But frost, sharp and sloping in turn, was different every time you took a look at it. Lys had never seen a snowflake, but she’d heard that no two were alike. The cycles that Lys so lovingly and diligently traced must have sounded tiresome to a mercurial creature like this. Lys felt her leaves droop, and she drew them down around herself. She was far too old to feel this young.

“Oh dear,” she heard, and then there were frozen fingertips on her chin, tilting her face back up with gentle stubbornness of a winter chill. “Please don’t hide. I didn’t mean any harm.”

Frost very rarely did, but it stung all the same. It would be easier if she weren’t so — so radiant. The dawning sun was familiar as anything to Lys, and she loved it dearly. But she was used to seeing it glinting off golden wheat or dappling its way across some stray creature’s coat. It looked so fey the way it reflected now. It was as if this spirit was taking it in and magnifying it, and the result was a fresh, clean light that Lys had never seen in her life. It was surreal and beautiful and more than a little daunting. Sunshine had no business feeling so unfamiliar.

“Dryads are steady creatures,” Lys finally said, her voice like the hush of a sigh through darkening leaves. She hesitated. “You make me feel…”

The spirit tilted her head, but her gaze was knowing. “Unsteady?”

Lys shifted amongst bark, but her snug skin with its familiar whorls seemed ill-fitting all at once. She could no longer seem to get comfortable within it. “Something like that,” she admitted.

“Good,” the spirit said, and reached out to take Lys’s hands in hers, leaving her bark frost-kissed where they touched. “Unsteady lives create the most beautiful storms.”

Lys frowned. “Unsteady trees fall.”

“Not if the roots are strong.”

Word games and fancies. But Lys couldn’t deny that even as her fingers froze, her heart beat hot. Was it the words or the impish smile curving at pale lips? She didn’t know. No wonder tales of the frost were so glowing and so despairing all at once. Lys couldn’t tell if she was shivering or shaking.

To the spirit who was holding her hands, it was just trembling, and her smile gentled when she felt it. “What is your name, sister?”

“Lys,” she said, and that at least was familiar ground.

“Lys,” the spirit repeated, the simple name sounding complex in that strange voice of hers. Lys had always thought of her name as being like a stir of leaves, but suddenly, it sounded more like the murmur of the air that whistled through them.

Lys paused for a long moment, trying to reconcile the sound of it. Then she drew herself up, roots to branches, and asked, “And yours?”

“Isolde.”

“Isolde,” Lys repeated, and found, to her great delight, that she could have the same effect. The name had sounded like howling wind on a winter’s night when Isolde had said it, like the sloping severity of icicles. But when Lys said it, ah. Then it was the quiet rustle of a bud unfurling, the gentle joy of realized potential.

Isolde’s name sounded grounded on Lys’s lips, and Lys watched the way that those old eyes of hers widened slightly, then sparkled with pleasure. “Lovely,” she murmured. “Just lovely.”

The question was on the tip of Lys’s tongue, an inquiry that felt almost too bold to make, but Isolde was already moving. She was dropping Lys’s too-cold, too-numb fingers and brushing a snow-stained kiss to her cheek. “The morning draws on, and the day approaches,” she said, and Lys could hear regret in that voice. “This is your time, not mine.”

Lys found herself smiling despite herself. Frost was fleeting, she knew, and erratic. This spirit had likely been here for too long already; the heat that gave Lys life only sapped Isolde’s away. But still. Still. The stolen moments were strange and sweet, and perhaps there would be more in the future. The paths were changing, or so she’d heard. And she’d heard, too, tales from her faraway sisters of “their” frost. Maybe, for as long as she had her, Isolde would become Lys’s frost as well. Maybe one day she’d even come to understand her.

“Goodbye,” Lys said, and in a fit of newness, in a fit of unsteadiness, she returned that icy kiss with a rough one of her own. “Until we meet again.”

Isolde looked as beautiful going as she had coming, a gleam on the parting horizon that heralded a new age. And though it pained Lys to see her go, she had a feeling she would see her again. After all, the seasons were short — but a dryad’s life was long. And cycle after cycle, circles in circles, a dryad’s life was patient.