#no joke drawing this made me drastically improve

[frogwithfeelings]

got boingo on the brain

[caffeinatedseri]

Dazai and No Longer Human’s Yozo

It’s no secret that BSD’s Dazai draws heavily from his real life counterpart, especially from his semi-autobiographical work: No Longer Human. To preface, No Longer Human is written from the perspective of the main character Yozo, with the book itself being a documentation of Yozo’s notebooks (essentially his journals) throughout his life. 

As you progress through the novel, it becomes increasingly clear that Yozo lives an extremely two-sided life; his foolish personality acts as a facade to others in attempts to hide the darker nature within him. 

Dazai shares that obvious similarity with Yozo, but Dazai is characterized in a somewhat vague and mysterious way that leaves a lot of his inner thoughts up to interpretation and inferences. Thus, I’ll be going through some of my favorite quotes from No Longer Human and analyzing Dazai’s character through his similarities to Yozo.

(For the sake of readability, excerpts from No Longer Human will be in pictures, and quotes from the light novel will be in regular block quotes).

Dazai and Yozo’s Participation in Clownery

To start off, Dazai noticeably participates in the same “clowning” as Yozo, which in particular stands out with PM Dazai.

““How did your leg get hurt?” I pointed to the bandages, thinking that it must be the result of some violent fight. “I was reading a book titled ‘How to Prevent Accidental Injuries’ while walking when I accidentally fell into a ditch.” I wasn’t expecting such an abnormal response.” — LN 2, Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era (Oda’s POV)

This is pretty standard Dazai behavior, but the interesting part is how Yozo specifically used the word “deceiving.” If we were to assume Yozo’s true thoughts are Dazai’s as well, then it would imply that Dazai feels as if he’s manipulating people with his absurd claims (such as the above). However, in actuality, his clownish behaviors sound more like a joke, or some type of self-deflection, rather than an attempt to manipulate people. (Yozo also states that he would often incriminate himself by overexaggerating certain things, but I don’t think Dazai does that).

The second statement Yozo makes implies that he doesn’t care about ethics, morality, or the supposed “right way” of living life that’s described as “righteousness.”

Yozo’s statement on “righteousness” parallels Dazai’s in Dark Era, but Dazai’s statement carries a slightly different sentiment. Rather than being indifferent to the likes of morality, Dazai says that he’s “hated” by the concept of morality. 

I’ll be speculating a bit here → It’s heavily implied that Dazai had some sort of dark past that led him to joining the mafia, since he was already suicidal prior to doing so. This suggests that something affected his life so drastically to the point where he could no longer trust in such things as “righteousness,” because righteousness has wronged him in the past.

First, Yozo expresses his fear of people discovering his true nature under the mask of clownery, which would then lead to them pestering him for further inquiry. However, his real fear is that people would mistake his true nature as another part of his typical clownery.

More so than before, this attitude reminds me more of Dazai in the agency, rather than him in the mafia. Even though Dazai danced around darker topics in his conversations with Oda, he was still able to talk about them without much conflict. However, in the agency, Dazai doesn’t talk much about himself or any of his personal issues at all. 

Although this scene has comedic overtones, it’s interesting to see that no one would help Dazai if he was actually dying. Still, it could be argued that the other agency members knew it was just Dazai’s regular antics. (or that Dazai wouldn’t die in the first place). 

This scenario repeats itself another time when Dazai gets kidnapped by the mafia, and the other agency members kind of just brush it aside. As much as they may trust Dazai to take care of himself (which I’m sure he can do), it’s worrying that the other members may not be open to Dazai’s possible attempts at reaching out for help, if he were ever to make one. 

In LN 4, 55 Minutes, Atsushi addresses this issue by asking Dazai why he wants to kill himself, but the answer is left open-ended, with Atsushi himself not remembering the answer (or if Dazai even did answer). You could interpret Dazai’s change from his time in the PM as an improvement of his mental state — which I have no doubt that has happened — but Dazai needs to face his issues head-on if he truly wanted to reconcile with his past.

“Perhaps someone should persistently tie Dazai up, open the lid over his chest and stuff the head of a vacuum cleaner in. They have to let Dazai, who should be screaming in pain and resisting, settle down. Following which, the difficult things in his heart must all be dragged out under the sun and stepped on mercilessly.“ — LN 2, Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era

Oda, the man who understood Dazai more than anyone else could at the time, even specifically stated that the pain in Dazai’s heart must be forcefully dragged out, because he knew that this would ultimately be the most beneficial for Dazai’s sanity.

Throughout No Longer Human, Yozo is often misunderstood by others, or other people simply don’t care about him.

When Dazai goes to visit Oda’s grave in Dead Apple, Atsushi finds him and assumes that he’s visiting the grave of someone important to him, as an act of respect or remembrance, something of the sort. However, Dazai makes the automatic assumption that his “clownish words of deceit” (as stated by Yozo) will always be prioritized over the truth, which is why he chooses to brush off his actions as a joke. 

Although I made the point earlier that the agency members don’t give Dazai opportunities to open up about himself, Atsushi is notably different, similarly to Oda, because he’s able to take Dazai seriously and persist even through his antics. 

Atsushi takes Dazai’s act of visiting a grave seriously, even when Dazai plays it off, because he knows Dazai is a person just like anyone else. This understanding between them leads to Dazai telling Atsushi about Oda, thereby allowing Dazai to divulge a crucial part of his past.

Dazai and Yozo’s Friendships

Similarly to Yozo, Dazai’s attempt at “disentangling” himself from these relationships only serves to wear him out in the end. However, they also slightly differ in a way: Yozo is unable to form any friendships for his whole life, but Dazai had Oda. I would argue that Oda was Dazai’s only friend, mostly because of this quote:

“Odasaku understood him far beyond what Dazai had ever thought. He had already reached close to his heart, the place near the center of his heart. Before this, Dazai had never noticed there was someone who understood him so well. For the first time in his life, Dazai wanted to know something from the depths of his heart.” — LN 2, “Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era”

Oda was special to Dazai because Oda was able to understand him — maybe even more than Dazai could understand himself — which is why Oda is the only person that Dazai asks for advice from. 

However, Dazai does the same thing as Yozo when he “plays the clown” as a form of self-protection from such valuable friendships. (which is probably preventing him from becoming closer to the rest of the agency).

“Things that we don’t want to lose will definitely be lost. Now that it has come to this, I have no more feelings anymore. Things worth pursuing will always disappear the moment before you get them. Nothing is worth prolonging a painful life to pursue.” — LN 2, “Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era”

Interestingly enough, Dazai says this when Ango is revealed to be a spy — before Oda dies. If Dazai was in this state of distress from Ango’s betrayal, you could only imagine how devastating Oda’s death was. 

Dazai speaks as if he’s speaking from experience, which suggests that he’s faced a similar loss in the past. Despite this implied experience, he still became friends with Oda (and Ango to an extent), fully knowing that it would only bring him pain in the end. Dazai's statement here acts more as a front that makes him sound cold and detached from the situation, only to hide how he truly feels about losing one of his only friends. 

To give some context to this passage, Yozo’s partner, Yoshiko, had been sexually assaulted by a coworker, of which Yozo attributes the cause to her overly trusting nature. Thus, this leads to Yozo’s belief that trustfulness is inherently wrong or creates weakness.

Dazai’s hesitance to form friendships most likely stems from this same inability to trust others like Yozo, but Dazai does trust a few people, namely Chuuya, Oda, and Atsushi.

With Chuuya, there’s a different type of trust between him and Dazai. Their impeccable trust is obviously a key factor in their partnership as SKK, but there’s a certain limit with this trust. They certainly trust each other in battle, but I’d argue that this trust doesn’t extend to their personal business. 

As of now, we don’t know a lot about how SKK interacted with each other during their time in the mafia (which could change with the new LN), but I doubt PM Dazai would feel comfortable with confiding in Chuuya with anything because they (kind of) hated each other. The level of trust required for a friendship would involve a mutual understanding between two people, but Chuuya and Dazai haven’t necessarily shown us that they were able to do that.

Dazai essentially broke his trust with Chuuya by leaving the mafia on a whim, but he also intentionally antagonized himself to try to make Chuuya hate him.

This scene also has comedic overtones, but it suggests something a bit sadder about Dazai. There are possibly two motivations as to why Dazai chose to do this: (or a mix of the two)

1. Dazai didn’t want Chuuya to be incriminated as his accomplice when he became an enemy of the mafia.

2. Dazai wanted to push Chuuya away because Oda — Dazai’s most trusted friend — had just died. As a form of self-protection, Dazai broke whatever semblance of friendship he shared with Chuuya in order to prevent the same pain that came with Oda’s death. 

It’s also important to consider that trust is a 2-way street; both parties have to have the same level of trust in each other. Just like Yozo, if Dazai is unable to trust anyone, then he may have cut Chuuya off to protect him (since Chuuya may have trusted Dazai more than Dazai was able to reciprocate).

In contrast, Oda and Dazai have a level of unspoken trust that basically motivates Dazai to change his entire life. 

“Odasaku’s eyes radiate with conviction. The words are clearly said with some sort of strong basis. Is it past experience? Or perhaps someone’s suggestion? — He is trying to show Dazai the path he once walked. Dazai understands this. Dazai can trust it.“ — LN 2, “Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era”

Returning to Yozo’s question — “Is trustfulness a sin?” — Dazai answers it by showing us the strength of trust in this moment. Trust insinuates blind faith in another person, the willingness to believe someone else without logical reasoning, which makes it all the more important when PM Dazai — the genius prodigy who operates on a solely logical basis — is able to trust Oda and change his path in life. 

Atsushi is most likely the one that Dazai trusts the most in the agency, due to the aforementioned issues with the other members. However, it seems more like a budding trust that’s growing to become like Oda and Dazai, but it still requires Dazai to take that step forward to further their trust. 

Dazai and Yozo’s View of the World

In this scene, Yozo had made a decision for immediate gratification, but that choice caused him insufferable pain afterwards — supporting his belief that the world was a “place of bottomless horror.”

This parallels two of Dazai’s statements: one from Dark Era and one from Dead Apple.

“Please, take me with you. Wake me up from this rotten world of a dream. Come on, come on, come on!” — LN 2, “Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era”

(Dazai wasn’t talking about himself here, but the allusion sets up a situation where he can talk about himself indirectly — I talk about it more in my other post here)

We don’t really get a reason for why Dazai is suicidal, but from this we can infer that it’s something more complex than he makes it out to be — something like an issue deeply rooted within the world, with no easy solution. 

One could guess that this was the result of an unfortunate decision (like Yozo), or the realization that the world was simply a terrible place (possibly because no one cared for him as a kid and he had Mori as a “parental” figure instead).

Yozo expresses his lack of understanding in the compassion of human nature, but Dazai (as we know) seems to understand other people perfectly, as least enough to manipulate them.

However, this forms somewhat of a paradox: Dazai understands people so well to the point that he can’t understand them.

Dazai understands every flawed aspect of a human being — the tendency to manipulate, lie, kill, etc. — most likely because of his past as a young child. “Human beings never did teach” him the hopeful aspect of human nature  — the ability to love and cherish others.

Shibusawa in Dead Apple reflects this mindset, but take note of what Dazai says: “You wouldn’t be saying that if you actually had friends” — clearly a reflection of Dazai’s personal experience, by knowing how important friends are.

Yozo’s deathly fear of society tames itself when he comes to the realization that society is really just made up of a bunch of individuals working for their individual benefit, so he has no reason to fear society as a whole.

I don’t believe Dazai has this same fear of society, but he does reflect this individualistic mindset in the way he acts. Often enough, Dazai doesn’t tell anyone about his plans and would rather manipulate people into following such plans, even when it would be easier to cooperate. He always takes care of conflicts by himself, and by his standard.

Yozo’s fear of society possibly manifested into Dazai’s ostracization from society. More speculation here, but → My guess is that Dazai was alienated not only as a genius isolated for his intelligence, but also for his ability. There seems to be some division between regular society and ability-users’ society, but I can see Dazai being rejected by both because he’s the antithesis to all abilities. 

Regular society would either shun him like other users or attempt to exploit him for their personal gain (possibly for his intelligence AND his ability), or ability-users would see him as a threat and/or menace to their safety.

When Yozo considers a double suicide with his partner, he comes to this unsure conclusion of whether or not he actually wants to go through with it.

This reflects what Oda believes about Dazai:

“I thought you and Dazai were very similar, unable to see the value of your life, hoping for death, hence jumping into a world of violence and fighting. But that’s not the case. That guy is just a child who’s too smart. Just a crying child who’s been left alone in the darkness, a world of nothingness far emptier than the world we can see.“ — LN 2, “Osamu Dazai and the Dark Era”

At the end of the story, Gide and Oda are different from Dazai because they face an inevitable hopelessness. However, Dazai has a small spark of hope to live on that persists beyond the other two. 

This is represented in Dazai’s own statement to Oda, when Oda is set on walking to his death: “Go and rely on something, hope for something good to happen next, that something will definitely happen.” 

If anything, this sounds more like a plea to himself than to Oda, but it establishes an important point: hope is built upon the assumption that the future will treat your present desires well. Vice versa, hopelessness is built upon the expectation that the future will neglect your present desires.

It’s a bit wordy, so I’ll elaborate on. Right after Dazai says this line, they proceed to talk about their desires → Dazai wants to find a reason to live, so he joined the mafia; Oda wanted to become a novelist, so he didn’t kill anyone. 

Now, the difference between hope and hopelessness:

Oda feels hopeless because he expects that his present desire (to become a novelist) won’t be fulfilled in the future. By losing the one qualification that he felt he had to follow (not killing anyone), he no longer believes that he can become a novelist.

Dazai has hope because he assumes that his present desire (to find a reason to live) will be fulfilled in the future. He doesn’t know that for sure, but he persists onwards regardless of having full assurance or not. 

Dazai’s hope and trust in Oda brings him to where he is in the present, and takes him one step closer towards discovering his reason to live. 

[sokkas-honour]

3 with sokka for your spotify wrapped playlist writing thingy? Also hii hehe i just found your blog 5 seconds ago NICE TO MEET YOUUU

it’s lovely to meet you too! (i prepared these a while ago but tysm for being so supportive of my blog!!)

affluenza - sokka x reader

pairing: sokka x fem!reader (it’s more platonic than anything)

wc: 2.7k

notes/warnings: again, i’m only really using the theme of this song instead of the lyrics. for warning, misogyny?? a bit of neglect

-

growing up a princess was already hard to begin with, but being the younger sister to the nation’s favourite royal was even worse. constantly being in her shadow, being ignored by parents and just being blindly spoiled. you were lucky, you could get whatever you wanted except for your parent’s own attention and affection.

ever since you turned the age of ten, you were quick to notice that you weren’t your parent’s favorite so you would try and do whatever you could to be the star in their eyes. you trained everyday in order to improve your water bending, your warrior skills, just anything that could make you stand out and get your parents to notice you more. but alas, you weren’t the crown princess, the most beautiful girl in the northern water tribe.

it came to a point where, around your fifteenth birthday, you were starting to loose motivation for things in general. all of your work had payed off, you had mastered every healing form and had even gotten secret lessons from local boys trying to use you to get to yue, you had everything you could want except for the one thing you desperately needed. so you started isolating yourself a bit more, the rest of the nation forgetting about you even more.

your isolation changed when you heard of the avatar having arrived in your tribe and suddenly, you desperately wanted to get to know them. if you befriended the avatar and even joined him on his voyage, you might just finally get your parent’s stamp of approval. it was the first thing in months to give you any sort of motivation.

during the dinner that your dad threw for the guests and to honour your sister’s birthday, you had managed to find a spot next to the southern watertribe girl and you two hit it off immediately. bonding over shared experiences as younger siblings.

“yeah it does hurt a bit to have practically mastered all your water bending forms and not get a congratulations from your parents.” was your comment as the two of you spoke about sometimes feeing as thought you’re living in your older sibling’s shadow. what you said seemed to have done something to the girl who’s name you learned was katara.

“you’re a waterbender?” she asked bewildered. her eyes looking at you with excitement and wonder.

“yeah, one of the best in the tribe if i do say so myself.” you joked lightly, a bit confused at her tone.

“i’m a waterbender too! do you think you could teach me a few things?” she excitedly asked, a huge grin on her face. you nodded and finished swallowing your pickled fish that had been prepared by the best chefs in town.

“i mean sure but i’m not sure what i could teach you. i’m basically a master but i wouldn’t say that i’m too far ahead from other people my age.” you responded, explaining to the girl from your sister tribe that you may not be able to teach her much.

“oh, where i come from, i’m the last waterbender. so i’ve never had any actual training.” her gaze averted from yours and you instantly regretted what you said, feeling horrible at your assumption. you were used to being surrounded by waterbenders and had no idea what she must’ve been going through.

“i’m so sorry, i shouldn’t have said that. if you need anyone to show you some water bending forms, i’m more than happy to. but i’m sure you’ll get more from master yagoda.” you searched for her hand and gave it a little squeeze, she turned her head to smile at you which you returned a comforting one back.

“why not master paku?” she inquired, slightly confused at not hearing the name of the respected master she had heard about at one point during the dinner.

“master paku teaches warrior waterbending skills, girls aren’t allowed to learn those techniques, only healing.” you explained, gaze faltering slightly. you hated your tribe’s costume which is why you always tried to rebel in your own way, but she didn’t need to know that yet.

“why? that’s stupid!” she exclaimed, removing her hand from yours to hit her closed fists on the table in annoyance, thankfully not drawing any attention.

“i know! but it’s tradition and the old farts who control this town hate breaking tradition, even my father won’t break it for me!” you explained, giving a small glance to your father who spoke to one of his councilmen.

“maybe he’ll change his mind if i’m with the avatar! we might even convince him to train you!” she suggested, optimism laced in her words but you simply shrugged your shoulders.

“you can try but i wouldn’t get your hopes up. if you do though, make sure to come get me.” you blankly responded, not wanting to give her any false sense of joy.

the rest of the dinner went by nicely, her telling stories about her adventure with the avatar and her brother, who’s name you learned to be sokka. he even inserted himself in the conversation once or twice, making you laugh at his comments. the night had to end eventually, and for yue and yourself, it meant you two have to leave before the party ended.

“y/n, i think i may have a problem.” yue nervously started when you were both alone. “that southern water tribe boy, he.”

“he’s hilarious?” you finished her sentence, a knowing smile on your lips.

“yeah, and i’m scared i might be catching feelings for him. he even suggested to do something together.” she explained, hand grabbing yours nervously, looking to you for advice on what she should do. no matter how much your parents favoured yue on every way, there was so way you could ever hate her or hold your parents’ doings against her.

“oh come on yue, talking to him won’t hurt you. if anything, not talking to him will hurt him.” you joked, placing your hand on top of hers to give more weight to your words.

“i suppose so.” she smiled, most likely thinking about him and the way he made her feel. your smirk never left your face as you watched the way he made her feel.

the next day, you ran into katara and aang as they went to visit master paku to try and convince him to train the both of them. you were going on a simple walk, hoping to run into them.

“y/n, want to come with us to master paku?” katara immediately asked once you were in proximity to the tow of them.

“not sure you’ll be able to convince them but i’d love to either way.” you smiled, waving hello to the avatar.

“well we’re going to try.” aang backed up katara’s optimism which was slightly sad to see as you knew the ending, you had experienced it yourself.

and like you predicted, their attempt to get the old master to go against outdated traditions proved useless. it ended in katara yelling at his misogynistic attitude and giving up to go sit in on a healing session. you decided to join her, knowing it was useless to you but it was nice to a get a refresher nonetheless.

once it ended, you were left to deal with an annoyed katara as aang was still training. you admired her for standing up to him, wishing you had the confidence that she had but you had given up fighting traditions a long time ago when you realised it was useless.

“listen, i’m sorry katara. if you want though, i can show you around town.” you tried to cheer her up but she seemed to agree with no enthusiasm.

during your tour, you made sure to give as many details as you could to the girl from your sister tribe but it didn’t do much to make her smile. her attitude did change though when the both of you ran into her older brother, a lovestruck emotion on his face which immediately led you to conclude he had seen your sister, and you were right.

“we’re meeting tonight at the same bridge we saw each other! yue and i!” was the first he said when he approached the two of you, more directed to his sister.

“really sokka? that’s great!” katara’s mood seemed to change to happiness for her brother. she then turned to you, surprisingly. “you know, maybe yue said something to y/n. did she?”

“why would yue tell her something?” sokka stopped you from answering, taking you slightly aback. his rather none accusing question hurt you more than you’d care to admit.

“i beg your pardon?” you were slightly offended at his question, more hurt but that wasn’t the tone that you wanted to show, knowing that showing hurt was more of a weakness than anything. at least in your household, your parents only seemed to notice your negative attitude when it came out. a comment made by a schoolmate hurt you and when you came home crying, you were simply neglected as yue had come home earlier and your parents were engrossed in her story. you had tried to come to them but were simply ignored. since then, you’ve only ever shown emotions theyd deem negative to your sister.

“sokka, you met her last night. she’s the second princess of the northern water tribe!” katara harshly whispered as you calmed yourself down, making a mental note to thank your new friend.

“yue has a sister? what did she say about me?” his confusion turned to excitement as he practically rushed into your face, too close for your liking.

“yes, and what do you think you’ll get out of me?” you smirked slightly, putting your hand on his chest to push him out of your face.

“i don’t know, what does a princess need?” he questioned. letting your hand linger before you dropped it.

“warrior training.” katara observed as you narrowed your eyes, the smirk still on your lips as you surprised the rather bold boy.

“why would you need warrior training?”

“because, i want to. my father refuses to let me train but i’ve found ways. yue told me you’re supposedly the best warrior in your village and i want some.” you defied his expectations, he assumed you’d probably be drastically different from your sister in a bad way but he was wrong.

“deal, you tell me what yue thinks of me and i’ll teach you a couple of things i know.” he was quick to agree, willing to do anything to know what the crown princess thought of him. you took your hand out to shake on it and he did, both of you looking each other in the eyes in defiance, hands lingering in each other’s grip.

katara giggled at the interaction which brought the two of you out of your stare and let go of each other’s hands.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, hopefully yue will tell me more after your little rendezvous today.” you told him before turning your attention back to katara, seeing as though she was with her brother now, she’d be fine on her own. “i’ll see you tomorrow around the healing hut early tomorrow?”

she nodded before you waved the two of them goodbye and walked back towards the palace, looking forward to your first session with sokka.

the next day was pretty eventful, finding out that katara and aang had gone against paku’s rules, meaning that he refused to continue raining the avatar. you found out right before leaving for the session with yagoda and decided to stick around when katara defied him. and by the end of that whole fiasco, she was able to convince him to let her train with him.

after that happened, you immediately went to your father to beg him to let you join paku’s clas but you were met with a wall.

“absolutely not, the times may be changing but i’d rather none of my daughters do anything too dangerous. you still need to finish mastering healing.” was his response, leaving you in complete disbelief. you had mastered every healing form a couple of months ago and he didn’t know.

yue tried to comfort you but you ignored him, deciding to walk around town to calm down. you knew that if yue was the waterbender, she’d be able to do whatever she wanted. even if she was their fragile little girl.

the day went by rather fast, and before you knew it, you were following katara in secret to watch the first ever girl receive training from a master in the northern water tribe. you made sure to not make your presence too noticeable, even if the majority of people didn’t notice you most of the time. you watched in complete awe of her raw skill, wishing that you were right there next to her, having something to make you stand out from your family.

when the afternoon came, you made your way to where the three of them was staying in order to complete your deal with sokka.

“hey y/n, did you find out anything about yue?” was his greeting which earns a little eye roll from you.

“didn’t she tell you that she was engaged?” you said rather harshly, regretting as you saw him look down sadly. “listen sokka, she can’t love you but she does. she’s tied to our ridiculous customs, i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay.” he took a deep breath in and let it go before meeting your eyes that were soft, matching them with a small smile. “ready to get started?”

“more than ready. my stupid father didn’t want me joining katara today so i need to let out some sort of aggression.” your tone clearly annoyed at your father which confused sokka, yue didn’t seem to have any problems with her parents.

“i don’t know if this is my place to ask, but why do you seem to hate your father so much?” he asked, curious to know.

“this is nothing against my sister, i love her to bits. it’s my parents i have problems with, they just cast me aside. all of their attention has always been on yue, hell everyone in this stupid tribe only cares about yue! i’m supposed to just be unnoticeable according to my parents yet they shame me for not being as special as yue! i mastered every single healing form and i even managed to learn a couple of fighting stances, yet it’s still not enough.” you let yourself go, deciding to dump all of your problems on the poor boy who had to hear your practically yell at the end. “sorry, you probably didn’t want to know all of that.” you joked nervously.

“no, no its okay. i just figured that being yue’s sister would be like the best thing. i mean being royalty makes your life basically perfect and i mean, she’s one of the sweetest girls i’ve ever met!” sokka ranted, not exactly being what you wanted to hear.

“yeah, i have everything i could ever want but my parent’s attention.” you laughed in disbelief at how ridiculous your situation was.

“you know what?” a silence had settle after your uncomfortable laugh but he was the first to speak, excitement in his voice as he voiced the idea in his head. “what if you joined us to defeat the firelord and travel with the avatar? that’s sure to get your parents to notice!”

“you barely know me and i haven’t actually spoken with the avatar, what makes you think that i’d fit your little team?” you were skeptic at his proposition, loving the idea but not being sure he was thinking it through.

“from what katara’s told me, you’d be perfect for us! katara could teach you what she learns with paku on the road, i could teach you what i know and you could be our own healer!” he excitedly thought about the idea of having someone else on his team, even if you weren’t the sibling he fell for, he still took a liking to you after your first conversation.

“well then, come fetch me before you leave. my parents won’t notice me gone so there won’t be any problems.” you concluded, you yourself getting excited at the idea of finally doing something that might make you stand out to your parents.

“great! now let’s get started.” he opened the door, a huge smile on his face.

“if you were at all interested, she thought you were a pretty good kisser.” you added before he could start teaching you any of his skills.

general taglist: @butterfly-skinnylegend @biqherosix

atla taglist: @missmorosis @draqondance @firelady-jay @welovediaaxx @sunnypluto

[mindynichole]

Okay...so it’s time to tackle Episode 10x18 and why it didn’t bother me that much.

Despite getting to watch TWD Season 10B early thanks to a forgotten AMC Premiere account, I waited an entire 24 hours before I watched 10x18 out of fear of the inevitable. 

And by now I’m sure you know exactly what I’m referring too.

However, after I did finally break down and watch it Friday evening, I was surprised that it didn’t bother me nearly as much as I thought it would. 

Some might say that’s just because of the tinfoil hat now firmly placed tightly around my head after the previous episode convinced me even more Beth Greene might just show up out of the blue one day soon to a TWD universe production near you. Okay, I’ll give you that! 

However, there are very logical reasons why I don’t feel the least bit threatened by this new woodland harlot, Leah, (I’m just joking, geesh) and I’m going to tell you what they are!

Before I begin, I want to make clear that while I’m not thrilled about the idea of Daryl being in a romantic relationship with anyone but Beth, I didn’t really even hate Leah but saw her instead as what I believe she was meant to be. On her own in another situation she probably would be a great character. However, when I have mentioned in the past that I liked this episode, I was mainly referring to the parts with Car*l. Not because I am petty and enjoyed the fight, but because I think these are conversations that Daryl and her need to be having. 

Nevertheless, here’s my take of 10X18. Consider yourself spoiler warned if you haven’t seen it yet.

Daryl was probably at the loneliest part of his life when Leah enters the picture.

Let’s take the time and set this scene a moment... 

At the point in the story when Leah first appears, Daryl has been wandering the woods for three freaking years looking for any sign of Rick’s body. 

While Daryl is away, everything he knows has changed and life has just continued to carry on without him for everyone else he loves. Rick and Carl are both long gone. Carol is busy being a wife and mother. Michonne has pretty much shut off Alexandria from everybody including Team family. Maggie left for parts unknown with Georgie and has taken little Hershel with her. 

Literally every single thing that Rick and Team Family ever tried to build during this apocalypse is shattered and everything the man has ever loved is gone. 

We also can’t forget that the person Daryl would have naturally clung to during this sad time happened to “die” before he ever stepped foot into Virgina. Therefore, Daryl is left with absolutely no one. It’s a damn miracle that he didn’t off himself and might have - had he not been so obsessed in finding Rick’s body.

Leah is Daryl’s exact mirror in female form. 

So he meets Leah after accidentally breaking into her cabin and almost immediately we can see she is literally like him looking into a mirror. Now, I’ve already read many people trying to compare her to Car*l and even Beth and while I do get what they are saying, I also disagree. This lady is no other than the female version of Daryl Dixon. He has surely found his exact match in her.

Here’s how we figure that out:

Leah is tough as nails but obviously has a heart because she doesn’t immediately kill Daryl for busting into her cabin and ultimately lets him go.

You come to find out she had abusive parents and a very shitty childhood just like Daryl.

You find out her life sucked until she found her group - who had given her not only hope but finally a real family.

Like Daryl, her life also greatly improved during the apocalypse.

It takes Leah a very long time to trust Daryl enough to even tell him her name.

You find out she had a son who was born very much like Judith was. Her “sister” died giving birth to him, causing her to raise him as her own.

Something horrible happens to the group (horde of walkers) and everyone else gets killed. She takes her son and runs to the cabin only to realize that he had been bitten and ultimately dies. 

It highly implied Leah blames herself for what happened to her family.

Like Daryl, at this point in the story Leah has lost everything she has ever loved, has sought refuge in the woods, and is completely alone.

Yet, in no way, shape, or form was Leah ever supposed to be a replacement for Beth. Instead, I believe she actually demonstrates why Bethyl worked so well.

While I’m okay with the character of Leah, she’s no Beth. Not even close. As I stated before, she is just like Daryl and that’s really the problem.

Because we need to understand the thing that made Bethyl work so well was their fundamentally different personalities fitting together like peanut butter and jelly - both perfectly fine on their own but together making the perfect combination. 

And TPTB spent a lot of time and effort back in the day showing us how much this was so.

While sometimes opposite people clash, we were shown that their different natures surprisingly completed each other very well. In other words, they were each other’s yin and yang. This was most obvious with Daryl helping Beth realize her own strength and Beth showing Daryl how to move forward. However, I could create an entire meta...and there are many that already exist out there...listing countless examples of how we saw them bringing the best out in each other. The combination of this along with their utmost (even sometimes brutal) honesty, shared history, and absolute trust in each other, created a foundation for a very healthy relationship.

In contrast, two people with nearly identical personalities and the same exact kind of unhealed trauma like Leah and Daryl, are usually not good life partners because they can hinder and get in the way of each other’s forward progress. 

While you can understand why these kinds of people gravitate together and form bonds over shared experience, resulting romantic relationships can often be rocky. Many times the shared trauma can result in both partners having the exact same kinds of problems with trust, communication, and reckless expression of feelings. There is nobody in the relationship to model different kinds of behaviors and ideas since both tend to have the same life experiences to draw upon. Instead, each serves to the other as a living testament to and as confirmation of why their negative thoughts and behaviors are correct. 

In other words, there is nobody there to throw the life preserver when both people are drowning. Nobody to even suggest to either partner a different way of doing things. 

Also, when the relationship’s foundation is based solely on shared trauma, the trauma itself can become the only thing holding the two partners together. 

This is why I never thought Daryl and Car*l would ever make good romantic partners. However, at least they have different types of personalities and kinds of trauma. Car*l is just...well Car*l - a force all on her own - and there’s nothing to suggest she ever experienced abuse in childhood. However, Leah being an exact carbon copy of Daryl gave that relationship even less of a chance.

And what I have just described seems to be exactly what we really do see happen between Daryl and Leah in Episode 10x18. I could list various examples but for time’s sake, I’m choosing not to because I am sure you can see it too - at least now that I’ve brought it up.

Just know I also believe this is why NR seemed to imply the relationship was not good in earlier preview shows.

Daryl flat out told Leah he didn’t know if he could choose her. 

As many others have already pointed out throughout the weekend, I believe the biggest difference between Daryl’s reaction to Leah and his reaction to Beth is the simple fact he really didn’t seem to  want to stay in that cabin with Leah forever. He doesn’t even seem all that upset about it either until he starts talking with Car*l later.

This drastically contrasts with the “Oh” scene with Beth. Hell, Daryl didn’t even care if the looney person who had been tending the funeral home and dressing up corpses came back! He wanted nothing more than to stay there and live happily ever after with her. There was no hesitation. 

I would go as far as to say Beth is the only person able to completely divert Daryl's attention away from the rest of his family - much like she did when he spotted the Grady car and began his pursuit. However, Beth would never even ask such a thing - because not only is it her family too - but also because Beth was much too unselfish to let Daryl make those kinds of choices.

So you might ask yourself why he changed his mind in the end and made him decide to go back to Leah?

I believe he makes this choice because of the conversation with Car*l. She basically tells him that everyone else has found their place and it is time for him to find his place too. It begins to slowly eat at Daryl how they have all moved on without him. It’s important to remember that by this time in the story, he’s pretty much done scouring the river for Rick. He’s already checked out that “one last place” he hadn’t been. So now he’s beginning to ponder Car*l’s words and wondering where his place is now? Where does he go from here? It’s logical to think maybe he’s supposed to be in those woods with Leah after all.

Daryl and Leah’s relationship doesn't seem to leave much of a lasting impression or effect on Daryl.

Don’t get me wrong, I believe Daryl most definitely cared about Leah. Yet, we can’t forget how we first found Daryl all those years later after the time jump in Episode 9X6.

If you remember right, Daryl still wasn’t doing all that great. His relationship with Leah apparently does absolutely nothing to change his outlook on anything. 

In comparison, we all know what just a few short weeks - perhaps a couple of months - in the woods with Beth Greene does to Daryl Dixon. It changes his character profoundly! 

Daryl might have went back to Leah at the time...BUT he made it crystal clear to C*rol that he knows where he belongs NOW. That’s what the entire fight between them was really about.

There is a line that Daryl spits out during his fight with Car*l that sums up exactly why he wasn’t able to give up everything and stay with Leah. He tells Car*l that he knows where his place is…and he’s referring to being with his family at Alexandria. He’s angry that she doesn’t seem to understand that it’s where her place is as well.

AK later points this line out on TTD as important too. In fact, she literally states that his relationship with Leah is purely in the past and they will not go there again. It is rare for a showrunner to flat out proclaim something like this. It means she felt it was important for the audience to understand that this was done.She also points out that the fight is really about how sick Daryl is of Carol running away every time things get extremely difficult.

I would go a step further and say that Daryl is probably projecting what he now realizes was going on with himself when he was wandering the woods and choosing to stay there with Leah all those years ago. He’s upset with himself for having done so and he’s upset with Car*l that she has yet to have come to the same conclusion.

Ps: Be on the lookout for another post - a part two of sorts - later this week detailing all the things I’m still tinkering in my mind about this episode! ;)

Until then, keep calm and Bethyl on! She’s coming soon...

[moonlight--cafe]

@ncityz3n​

Hi! Thank you for requesting! Apologies for the wait, I had a lot of fun doing this request and in all honesty you sound like one of the sweetest people on Earth  which is why I kind of went all for the peachy candy look. I hope you like it! Have a great day! Feel free to request again when my requests are open. 

~ONEUS~ Keonhee 

It was such a joy working on your request, you remind me of another Hwanwoong and I just think you sound like such a cool person! Similar to my last ship I took a lot longer trying to decide who to ship you with, I eventually chalked it down to Keonhee being a good fit. Though your description was short and to the point I got a good feel for your personality and felt that it’d be a type of wrongdoing if I didn’t go with him. Overall, it may seem that you both are polar opposite but in reality, you both have a type of magnetism that draws people to you. In areas where you lack, whether it be in the relationship or generally, Keonhee will make up for it and vice versa.

The most outstanding difference between you are your values, intellect isn’t something that Keonhee focuses on at all. He is heavily guided by his emotions and is possibly the most affectionate out of the group, though it seems suffocating it’s not intentional. He wouldn’t wake up every day and think of every possible way to make you uncomfortable, it just happens. Even if you voice your opinion in a harsh way, it’s okay because Keonhee would be fixed in his opinion that you are still the amazing person he fell in love with.

Now onto the more wholesome aspects of your relationship, Keonhee wouldn’t shut up about your dancing. Despite being the main vocalist, he has always had a fondness for those who are naturally gifted in dancing. Once word got out that you had been dancing for eleven years (self-taught nonetheless) he would become your official hype-man, even going as far as to challenge Hwanwoong on your behalf. He knows it comes off as obnoxious and crass to the members, especially Hwanwoong but he’s just so proud and does it all in the name of love.

Following on from this he often seeks your feedback on his dancing, asking whether he did a particular move correctly or whether he should smile or do finger hearts at the end of his line. After a while he would actually come to trust your word more than that of the group’s official choreographer, when he drastically improves in his dancing RBW chalk it down to his will to improve. In actuality most of it is thanks to you, he would obviously thank you on multiple occasions but would find other ways to do the exact same thing. He would dedicate overdone ending-fairy poses to you or encourage Youngjo to include some lyrics he came up with in their songs, an example of this being his lines in Incomplete. Keonhee says on a daily basis that 1. His life would be incomplete without you and 2. His life will still continue to be incomplete until the day he marries you.

As vain as it sounds Keonhee is drawn to people who have a personality that is as radiant as his own, you are definitely the more serious out of the two of you but it isn’t obvious to those in your company. They see you as every phrase in the book that hints at you two being two peas in a pod since you both are prone contagious outbursts of energy. Somehow the both of you still appear as grounded and serious in some sense probably due to both of you being quite laidback most of the time. The other members voice their irritation with the two of you in a light-hearted manner, to them your just lovesick puppies even if you don’t openly express love. The others just know you care for him through your gestures towards him and the sparkling look in your eyes, there’s a running joke that the two of you were made for each other purely because you both hate cucumbers and love to remind them of it. All in all, the both of you somehow struck luck and stumbled upon what is quite possibly the sweetest relationship to ever exist.

[imagine-loki]

Stubborn Independence

TITLE: Stubborn Independence 

  CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 9/10

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-darkmidnight

  ORIGINAL IMAGINE: 

Imagine Loki struggling to adjust to someone who is independent and insists on paying for themselves all the time, even if it is a struggle sometimes. They need to do everything on their own. They never ask for help and refuse help. Just imagine Loki really wanting to spoil this person. Imagine how creative he would get to make life easier on this person who has captivated him.

+

Imagine being a talented singer at your local club. Loki comes in one night with Thor and the others (he’d rather be anywhere else but who turns down free drinks?) and gets ensnared in the voice of the beautiful singer on stage. Suddenly, his interest (and arousal) are more than piqued.

+

Imagine getting into a petty fight with Loki, so in retaliation, he puts everything on the top shelf where you can’t reach? 

  AUTHOR’S NOTES: College AU. Loki is determined to take over Odin’s company. He works hard and has a strict schedule for success. However, with the interference of Thor and the other four, Loki’s plans are often interrupted so they can play matchmaker.

  My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

 ~ ~ ENJOY  ~ ~

Loki went with Thor to talk to their parents together a few days after.

  Odin yelled. “As a family we have images to uphold for the business-and a child in college and not married? Your grades are already bad enough, how do you expect to pass college once this baby is born?!”

  Loki tried to step in. “Thor’s grades have improved drastically. Father, Thor IS working hard.”

  Odin made a loud abrupt sound to silence everyone.

  “You are stripped of any chance to have my company. Get out.”

  Frigga spoke calmly as her eyes tried to catch Odin’s. “Let him finish his dinner.”

  Thor replied as he stood, “I don’t have an appetite anymore.” He threw his napkin on his plate then left.

  Loki sat still as Thor left then looked to his mother who nodded.

  Loki stood and excused himself.

  Thor was walking up the street and Loki hurried in his car to pick his brother up.

  Thor got in with a growl. “That went exactly how I thought it would. That old man is a fool.”

  Loki spoke quietly as his hands sweat. “I am going to help you however I can.”

  There was a silence as Thor seemed to be thinking.

  “I have been thinking about changing my major to science. Jane is a genius and her passion about things keeps me interested to learn. There is a house we were looking into buying.”

  “I will help where I can.”

  “How about we go get our women and go eat somewhere.”

  Loki nodded, “sounds like a wonderful plan.”

  They found them sitting with everyone in the common kitchen.

  When Loki looked at Sirena she was talking with Jane and then her face lit up once she saw him. Jane got up and went to Thor who embraced her with an arm around her shoulders and a hand to her head in an attempt to shelter her.

  Loki was happy to have Sirena in his arms.

  She mumbled into his shirt. “You are back early.”

  Loki ran his fingers through her hair. “Odin is a quick decision maker…”

  Sirena looked up at him as she moved away. 

  He followed her eyes to Thor and Jane.

  Loki was a little surprised to see both of them so happy.

  Sirena held Loki’s hand as she looked at him. “Did it go well?”

  Loki tore his eyes off the couple to look in Sirena’s eyes. “I didn’t think so…”

  Sirena walked him to the kitchen. “Did you eat?”

  “Not really.”

  There was a meat mixture in a skillet still.

  “It’s supposed to be sloppy joe but… I didn’t have enough of the sauce.”

  She gave him a plate with a sandwich on it.

  “So now you are just eating joe. Ya know, get it? Cuz its not sloppy?”

  Loki smiled, “yes i get it. A bit morbid but I get the joke.”

  Jane and Thor walked into the kitchen.

  Thor had a small smile. “Thank you for keeping this a secret. But now father knows so I am sure he will try hiding it somehow.”

  Jane held Thor’s hand as she spoke to Loki and Sirena. “Yes thank you. And thank you Loki for going with Thor. The support means so much to us.”

  Sirena nodded. “Anything you need I am here.”

  Loki offered a smile. “Same with me. Just let me know.”

  Thor sported a huge smile. “How about two of those sandwiches.” Thor looked to Loki with a slight smile… “perhaps some tutoring so I can easily switch my major..?”

  Loki grinned. “I can do that.”

  Loki made sure Thor was studying hard but with the plan for next semester to change majors did not mean Thor could afford bad grades. He still needed a good GPA.

  Sirena would keep a close eye on Jane, especially during the evening hours because that was when Jane experienced the pregnancy sickness.

  By the end of the semester everyone knew due to Jane having a bump.

  Sirena was in Loki’s arms as they laid in his bed. Both drawing absentmindedly on the other’s bare skin.

  Loki asked, “what do you think Sirena.. about kids.”

  Sirena hummed. “Well at a later point in time would be fine. I want to finish my schooling, graduate, have a job with teaching music and being a musical therapist. Have a house that has everything a family could ever need.”

  Loki kissed her head briefly. “It sounds nice and I agree. I would like to have a few years into working at A.T. as the new owner. Get settled in before starting a family. During that time I was thinking about getting a cat.”

  Loki felt Sirena laugh.

  “A cat?”

  “Yes and we will name it something elegant and amazing.”

  “Sounds good. I love you Loki.”

  “I love you more.”

  Sirena huffed. “I have to write an original song for my class next semester.”

  “I am sure it will be great.”

  “I never wrote a song before.”

  “Do you want me to help you or keep assuring it is going to be amazing?”

  Sirena smiled at him. “Both.”

  So when next semester arrived Loki helped Sirena write a song. He was a natural poet and came up with the beautiful arrangement of words with Sirena. Then when she practiced the song, repeatedly, Loki felt their efforts really come to life.

  Sirena was trying to get Loki to schedule some literature classes as well as art classes.

  “Loki you are so good though. -And you love to draw and read. The song you helped me with was beyond amazing!”

  Loki’s lips were in a thin line from the constant nagging.

  “Sirena I need to hurry and finish with my current degrees so I can take over the company. My dad is not doing well.”

  “You could still do it. You love to write.”

  “It is a family business, Sirena. Thor has pushed the family away and right now this burden falls to me.”

  “Listen to yourself. You said, burden. Even YOU don’t want this.”

  Loki shut his mouth…

  Sirens started to throw her clothes back on. “You love writing. You LOVE drawing. I see how happy you are when doing that stuff. How you careLESS about the sense of duty that is forced on you.”

  “I have a responsibility to my family-”

  “Yourself.” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat… “you only have responsibilities to keep yourself happy.”

  Loki scoffed, throwing his pants on. “Happiness never makes money.”

  “Have it your way.” She walks away.

  Loki goes after her and grabs her arm. “Wait. Where are you going?”

  Sirena pulled her arm away as she pointed at Loki. “My future plans do not hold a miserable, bland, and loveless marriage.”

  Loki grabbed her hand and plead with her. “I swear it will never be that way!”

  Sirena pulled her hand away. “I am going into a field I love because the work fulfils me in a way money never will. I know you searched how much a music therapist makes and probably immediately after how much a writer makes.”

  “I don’t understand your point.”

  “You need the money. You need a sense of stability in your life. You need to be able to impress everyone with what you have. Loki… people dont love you for what you have. They will truly enjoy you if you chase happiness, not acceptance for something you are not.” Sirena’s eyes watered. “Ever since you found out you are getting the company you are changing into something miserable.”

  “Sirena, I have to.”

  “Then I have to move on because this will never work.”

[crypticpaw]

Cat Bath

Entrapta X Hordak fic!

Author’s note: This is an entrapdak fanfic written by me! I wrote it as feral because that’s the way I draw them so I just thought it would be fair. If you don’t understand what’s going on, just search #entrapdak on my blog and take a look at my artwork! I’m not very confident on my writing and I feel like there’s a lot of stuff I need to improve on. Tell me what you guys think! I hope this is fun!

Please, tell me how I went! I hope you all like it, and let me know if you’d like to see more! Thanks for reading!

-Why are you always so licky?! -Entrapta asked in a anoyed tone. She tried to suppress a low growl, still writhing underneath Hordak's paws, caught on another one of his "grooming" sessions. Which normally meant sitting her down and licking her entire body, leaving her a pouting and blushing mess.

This wasn't new. Since they first started to allowed themselves to show physical affection, Hordak was outraged at the fact that dogs don't groom themselves, and made it so every now and then that Entrapta should be groomed. Even if he had to chase her and grab her by the scruff to do so.

-Stop writhing! - he said, still with his tongue at her ear. -We would have been done by now if you didn't struggle!

Entrapta let out a whine of protest as he left her right ear to lick her belly. She felt her cheeks warm up and pushed his head with her hind leg. He growled loudly, it didn't faze her not in the slightest.

-Entrapta, we've been over this! I groom you so your fur won't tangle and the already dead fur won't stick to your body! It's healthier this way!

-Then why don't I see you do it?

-Because I don't have as much fur as you. -he caught her midway out of his grasp, and flipped her on her back again. -And I don't try to fight it!

She barked and whined trying to writhe away from the cat's paws, her face redder than a tomato. It did not seem to faze Hordak, though, as he continued his work on her sides this time. Entrapta's ear fur embraced and tangled around Hordak's body, despite the protest. She knew grooming was also a sign of love and worry, based on her observations. His tail was wrapped around her ear fur and sometimes when she was silent, she could hear very low purring.

Entrapta did not want to be silent today. Hordak decided it was a good idea to stop her midway into a brilliant experiment to lick her clean and she would not go down without a fight.

-Why DO you do this, anyway? -she asked in a huff.

Hordak sighed.

-I told you. It's that so your fur won't tangle and the dead fur can leave so healthier fur can grow on it's place. -his licking grew softer. She made a mental note to get him to talk more during grooming session. -And it also keeps it smooth and clean.

Entrapta frowned.

-Smooth and clean? You're not cleaning me! If that's your objective, you're making it worse! You're just slobbering me! I thought you hated slobbering! -she protested, confused this time.

-I am not slobbering you! I do not drool! I am not a dog! -Entrapta stuck out her tongue at him at that last sentence. -And how else are you supposed to do to brush your fur if not groom it?

-That's easy. I just use a brush.

It was Hordak's turn to be confused. His ears perked up and he tilted his head at her statement.

-A brush...?

-Yeah, like one of these. -her fur left his body for a second to reach the drawer on her nightstand beside her bed. She took out a strange tool, smilar to a screw-drive but had bristles at the end of it and a lot of purple fur.

He sniffed it, still not understanding her point. It just smelled of her...

-Hordak, have you never seen a brush before? -Entrapta was surprised. He always was so worried about his appearence and makeup and everything, very picky with dresses and sometimes even insisted she get changed for some reason. -How do you even brush your fur after your baths?!

-I told you, I groom myself.

-Doesn't it taste like soap after you bathe?

They were both so confused.

-Beloved, why would I ever put soap in my fur before grooming?

-No, not grooming! -Entrapta shook her head. -I mean after an actual bath. You know... Soap and water and shampoo?

Hordak wrinkled his nose and his ears pressed against his head. Red teeth showing.

-Why would I ever groom in water? I despise it! -he hissed.

Entrapta's ears fell and her eyes widened as the realization hit her.

-Hordak... You have NEVER taken a bath?!

-Well...

She gasped loudly.

-LORD HORDAK OF DRYL, ARE TELLING ME THAT YOU'VE NEVER BATHED IN YOUR LIFE?!?

She was raised on her ears, her fur on her scruff was tingled and her teeth were showing. Her tone was loud and severe, almost comanding. Hordak was taken a back as she continued to lecture him.

-That's nasty, Hordak! Even I know better than that! -she barked. -That's irresponsible and highly anti-hygienic! Now I'M disappointed!

Entrapta's ear fur now gripped strongly around his body. His ears fell back and his tail hid between his legs.

-We need to get you to the tub asap! -she jumped out of bed and made it for the bathroom door, but Hordak dug his claws on the bed and screeched in protest when she pulled him.

-Absolutely not! -he yelled. -I am not going one meter close to water! I'd rather have my skin grow mold! I understand your worry for my well being, Entrapta, but I will do just fine grooming myself! There is no way in this world I'll get in a bath tub!

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

Hordak yelled and clawed at the edge of the tub, desperately trying to get out. Entrapta's ear fur still held an iron grip around him, pulling the more he struggled.

-THIS IS RIDICULOUS! I DEMAND YOU RELEASE ME THIS INSTANT, ENTRAPTA! -He tried to sound menacing, but his words came out as desperate more than anything. -IT'S A WASTE OF TIME AND RESOURCES! I CANNOT BELIEVE-

He was cut off by a stream of water dropped in his scalp. He screeched, yowled, clawed and paddled, but Entrapta was holding him still, watering him with the shower hose. She grabbed her shampoo, conditioner, sponge and everything else she thought would be necessary and hopped back at her shouting mess of a lab partner.

She brought him to the edge where she stood and shushed him with a kiss on the lips. Hordak's face turned red, even redder than it already was, and he turned to her in anger.

-WHY ARE WE STILL GOING THROUGH WITH THIS?!

-'Cause you're still dirty, silly! -she answered in a fake innocent tone.

Entrapta took one of her bottles and poured it's content on the water.

-What is that?

-Bubble bath mixture! It makes the water all bubbly! -she mixed the water with a strap of her fur and bubbles started to form.

-What for? -she gave him the now empty bottle and he read the label: "Extra Bubbly! For extra fun in the water and extra comfort!".

This was not comforting at all! He threw the bottle over his head and clung to the edge of the tub again, digging his claws on the marble. Entrapta took off her mask and wiggled her hips before jumping right in. She raised out of the water again and shook her head before turning to him.

-I just like it bubbly! How's the experience of your first bath so far?

-Hellish! -he hissed. -I've been striped bare out of my armor and clothes! I've almost drowned in bubbles, and I am still being held captive in this idiotic joke of a torture room!

Entrapta couldn't help but laugh. Hordak could see her tail wagging on the water, splashing bubbles around. She grabbed the soaked sponge and paddled to him.

-It's just a bath, Hordikins! It's for your own good! Not a torture session!

-I doubt that! -her laughter rang in his ears again. He eyed her strange tool as she approached him. -What is that?

-It's a sponge! For scrubbing!

-Scrubbing...?

-Yup! Like this! -she reached with the sponge and scrubbed his neck gently. He immediately started clawing and screeching once again.

Anyone out of the bathroom would swear Entrapta was probably degutting Hordak alive, but the Lord of Dryl's first experience in a bath tub was simply not going smoothly. He questioned her in her shampoo and conditioner as well. Entrapta tilted her head.

-I won't get any chemical substance on you, you big dork! It's just shampoo! It's made to wash your fur! Like this! -she poured a little on her paw and smoothed her fur with it.

Hordak watched her in awe. She seemed so calm and relaxed, he couldn't understand It. Wasn't she cold? Couldn't she smell at all? She turned back to him.

-See? It wasn't that bad! -pouring more in her paw again, she climbed on him to get to his fur on his head.

He tried backing away again, but was already cornered. He did not shout, but still growled loudly at her paws on his fur.

-I still don't get it... You seem so worried about your appearance overall, I assumed you took a lot of baths in addition to grooming! -Entrapta explained. -Why are you so scared of water?

-I am not scared! I'm... I'm bothered... -Hordak lied.

-Buy why?

He growled and took a deep breath. Hordak was terrible with his words when saying his feelings out loud. Even for Entrapta.

-My... Body temperature dropped drastically, and the soap and the shampoo... Smell! Awful!

Entrapta stopped and turned to look him in the eyes, cupping his face between her paws so their noses touched.

-I'm sorry, I didn't realize it. I can turn the temperature higher if you want?

He nodded. She left his face to adjust the tap. In a few moments the bathroom was filled with vapor and Hordak felt his muscles relax.

-Do you feel better? -she asked in a genuine concerned tone.  -The smell bothers me as well and the shampoo and soap I use are already pretty weak, so I didn't thought it would bother you... We could find one that doesn't smell so bad.

-Thank you, beloved...

She kissed his forehead and a low purr escaped out of him. She wagged her tail again when his claws drew back.

[niarchery]

nia i've missed you and i hope you've been doing okay!!!

Hi there!! I miss you guys as well :’(

How are all of you? Are you doing well this quarantine? Idk if I can say that I’m doing great (I’m slowly inching towards quarter life crisis like everybody else lol... just from stressing out all the time about my career goals) but the last 2 years I’ve gotten to a really good place mentally! I’ve gained 2-3 kg recently bc all ice rinks are closed and I can’t skate lol, but otherwise my overall health is doing great haha

I’ve never addressed this before bc I simply didn’t have time to sit down and talk about it, but I decided to move on from Tumblr roughly 2 years ago (as in delete the app entirely), for multiple different reasons:

- I lost interest in scrolling through so many recycled Tumblr content, and this platform also makes it near impossible to track down the original URLs of everyone on my dash... So I barely recognized any of you who shared your personal posts on my dash, and it felt pretty lonely being here w barely any friends to interact with. The only ones filling my notes and messages were hundreds of those fucking pornbots spamming me with disgusting crusty musty dick pics HAHAH... I knew that everyone had migrated to Twitter to post all of the good fandom stuff, but I hate using Twitter because I find its interface annoying (most Indonesians don’t use Twitter either; Twitter was so popular back in my early highschool years, but since then everyone just think of it as a dead platform lol) so I just turned to my private IG and find solace in my real life friends (which is actually a wonderful thing)

- I stopped posting art altogether bc I simply don’t have time to draw things anymore with everything that’s been going on in my life. I decided to focus on my o&g career, learning French, and improving my skating. Every free time that i have i always spend practicing at the rink, instead of just sitting on my ass for days drawing fanart (I’m a VERY slow artist). So I haven’t made ANY fanart during my absence, and at one point in 2019 i even ENTIRELY FORGOT that my hands were capable of drawing things (thats how low drawing is on my priority list)

- Another major catalyst of me leaving the platform was Tumblr changing their algorithm to automatically recommend popular posts instead of recent ones, causing engagement in my new art posts to drastically drop. I‘m not a professional artist: I don’t really make and post art for my own self-improvement or just to add to my portfolio (i don’t even create my own OCs or do commissions or do object studies etc like real artists do); I only draw stuff to share the cool things i came up with to all of you! So when people stopped commenting or even seeing my posts, what even was the point?

- Lastly I think I just got tired of all the negative stuff I’m exposed to everyday at Tungle. Its exhausting to everyday witness people joke abt their poor mental health but at the same breath spreading anti-recovery rhetoric. Its exhausting seeing teenagers and people in their 30s go at each other’s throat over fictional characters (seriously folks, it ain’t that deep!) and it was really starting to drive me nuts jaksjdjdjjd

All of you have probably left Tumblr as well so I feel like i’m jus talking to the void here, but I want to leave this update just to let u know that I’m still alive and well :D (especially since I’m ONLY active on my private IG now, which currently only one of my Tumblr friends has access to... if we’ve chatted regularly in the past, you’re welcome to hmu and ask for my IG handle)

[jimlingss]

A Memory Without You

➜ Words: 10.4k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Angst, Superpower!AU

➜ Summary: Jung Hoseok is your saviour. Sure, he might just be a government worker tasked to investigate your life and ask a bunch of intrusive questions with his little clipboard, but he’s also the key to solving your troubles. You just hope he still remembers you when it’s all over.

➜ Warnings: Mentions to mental illnesses and discussions on issues related to memory loss.

Cr.

You step forward.   The office is small and it makes you afraid that the ceiling will close in on you, suffocating you to death. But your attention is stolen by the individual standing behind the desk, wearing a small smile. He’s a handsome man, casual suit, dark hair with surprisingly warm eyes. You don’t dwell in case he is a mind reader.    “Hello. It’s nice to finally meet you.”   “Likewise.” You shake his hand, nervousness beginning to chew at your bones. He motions for you to take a seat and there’s some more small talk made, introductions exchanged. He is seemingly friendly, but you can never trust your judgment when it comes to people like him.   “I’ve been personally assigned to your case,” the man, Jung Hoseok, tells you. He shuffles his paper, taking the pen from his blazer breast pocket. “Today, I’ll just ask some questions and clarify some things, okay? And then we’ll discuss the next steps. Sound good?”   “Yes.”   He nods and begins to flip through your file, hundreds of reports and claims, tests and health evaluations that are somehow supposed to summarize your existence. “It says here that you’ve only recently identified your ability?” His eyes flicker up and you recognize the curiosity since it’s been presented in so many before.    You’ve just found it and now you wanted to remove it so soon. It is an odd situation.   “Yes.” Your hands are shaking in your lap and you grip the hem of your pencil skirt to get a grip. “I’ve-uh….actually discovered it when I was sixteen, but it’s only been five years since doctors have diagnosed it officially.”   “That’s a long time,” he muses, scribbling something down and it adds to your anxiousness. You know you’re an unusual case — it’s supposed to take professionals minutes or seconds to identify abilities. Never days, weeks, months. Or in your case, years.   You nod in confirmation. “They….they didn’t really believe me. There was a lot of testing I had to do.”   “That’s unfortunate,” he sympathizes politely. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”   “It’s alright. I’m just happy they identified it.” Even if you belong to no real category. You’re labeled as miscellaneous and it always garners strange looks at city hall or when you have to travel for work.   The government worker continues, “How has your health been lately, Y/N?”   “It’s been...better.”   Hoseok lifts his chin, connecting his eyes with yours. “On the fourth health examination, you’ve been diagnosed with mild depression and generalized anxiety disorder?”   “Y-yes.”   “Is that affecting your life drastically these days?”   “Ummmmm……” You’re not sure what kind of question that is or how you should answer, but it’s protocol and you manage, “There’s been a lot of improvement in my life. I feel better. I’ve been going to work consistently. There hasn’t been much of a problem….”   “That’s good,” he nods and writes it down, taking note of it. It feels like an interrogation, a spot light shined on you, someone firing question after question. You shift uncomfortably and Hoseok notices, reading the expression on your face. He sets his pen down. “I’m sorry for putting you through this. I don’t mean to be so intrusive.”   “No, it’s okay. It’s your job, I understand.” You’ve been through worse in these past five years. The moment your ability was officially documented, you worked towards this. There are tens of steps, process slow and painful but it’s understandable. Even if this is a government service, they don’t want to be held accountable. The practice is already looked down upon. They have to ensure there are substantial grounds for doing this. Everything must be careful and calculated.   Jung Hoseok asks a few more questions and once satisfied, he claps his hands together.   “Okay, I think that’s all I need to fill out the report.”   “Then you’ll contact me next week?” you ask, unsure.   “Yes,” he reassures and then goes on to explain, “In the coming weeks, I’ll give you a call and for several days, I’ll be observing you. The length varies depending on the case, but it’s typically really short term. I’m going to see how this ability affects your day to day life and if it’s detrimental or not to your health or general well-being. You don’t need to do anything differently. As normal as possible is actually better. Just go on about your day and I’ll shadow you.”   The observation week doesn’t sound too bad when he explains it like that. At least, it can’t be any worse than the week you had to spend at the psychiatry department of the hospital.   He’s a professional. A good judge. He won’t criticize your life or look down on you, you know that much. Still, with all these facts you comfort yourself with, it doesn’t make you any less nervous. The thought of a stranger intruding in your routine makes it hard to cope. There’s no way you can control what he thinks. And whatever decision he comes up with at the end of his investigation will drastically affect you….   But you’ll do this at any cost. “Okay, t-that sounds good.”   “Great.” He slides over several documents. “Here are some forms to sign. It’s just a disclosure that says you want to go through with this investigation and so the government won’t be held responsible if you decide to sue or press any kind of privacy invasion charges. Take your time reading it and when you’re ready, sign here and here. Feel free to ask any questions if you have them too.”   “Alright.” You take the pages into your hands, having a difficult time reading when you’re this nervous. The words almost scramble on the paper, lines too close to one another, font too small. But you manage a long glance and you take the pen, signing it, staining the white with ink swirling the loops of your name.   He takes it after you’ve set it down.   “There we go.” Hoseok stands and shakes your hand with a reserved smile. His skin is warm, and you notice that his palm is larger as it clasps yours. “I look forward to working with you, Miss. Y/N.”   You meet his warm eyes, swallowing hard. “Thank you for all of this.”   “It’s no problem.”   //   The wait is slow and excruciating. It’s drawn out with days and nights you spend staring at your phone, waiting for that call or maybe a text message, any indication at all that might signal his arrival. It’s difficult to remain calm and patient when you’ve been counting down the days, hours, minutes, seconds.   But finally it arrives.   Three weeks after the first meeting, your phone rings and it’s him on the other line, smooth voice, undertones of chirpiness that you wish you had.   “Good morning.”   Jung Hoseok is wearing a bright smile as you open the door. He’s dressed more casually than before, no suit and tie but plaid shirt and cargo shorts. He would look like a tourist if not for how he carries the clipboard in his arms — it makes him more reminiscent to a summer camp counselor.   “Good morning,” you greet him with a polite smile as well, widening the door for him to step inside.   “Nice weather, isn’t it?”   “Yes, it’s really nice.” You’ve never been more awkward in your home before. “H-have you ate breakfast yet?”   “I’ve had some coffee.”   “That’s not a real breakfast,” you say with a smile, joking around a bit to ease the tension.   “I’m fine, really,” Hoseok insists and you nod. “Just don’t mind me. Go about your day normally and I’ll follow you.”   “Okay.” You shuffle backwards, body turning slightly. “I’m just having some cereal right now.”   “Alright.” The man is like a house inspector as he scans the premise of your home. “Is it alright if I take a look around?”   “Sure, go ahead.” Everything is organized and in neat condition. It wasn’t too difficult to clean the place when you live alone and just have to pick up after yourself.    You leave to the kitchen, finishing your food before you’re late for work. A glance over your shoulder, you find him peeking at the knick-knacks on your shelves, staring at the pictures of yourself from childhood that you put on display. He scribbles something down on the clipboard and you would feel severely scrutinized if not for the smile he has.   As you wash your dishes, Hoseok comes strolling in. “I really like your home. It’s cozy.”   “Thanks.” You smile. “Um...I usually leave in five minutes if that’s okay with you.”   “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Just go on about your day.”   Your life is rather normal and mundane. Plain. It’s probably less dramatic than some other cases he’s investigated — you wouldn’t be surprised if he’s deathly bored. You also know that it doesn’t look good for your situation. It’s not like you’re suffering immensely or directly inhibited due to your abilities, but there’s no way for you to dramatize your circumstances.   You can’t show your pain. There’s no physical evidence. It doesn’t come through direct actions or shown through horrible crying sprouts. It’s the little things in your life that aren’t visible — and you’re not sure that’s enough cause for them to help you in the way you want them to.   Nonetheless, you push the thoughts aside as you drive with him sitting beside you.   “Can you tell me a little more on what you do for work?” Hoseok inquires to fill the silence, drawing up a conversation.   “It’s just a customer service job at a marketing firm. I...uh..pick up calls mostly, answer people’s questions, schedule appointments, write up order forms and get payments. It’s not much, but it's honest work and it pays the bills.”   “No, that sounds great. Do you enjoy it?”   “Sometimes,” you answer. “It’s alright on most days.”   By the time you get to work, the cubicle next to yours is empty. You settle down and he trudges over with his bag full of his own belongings, setting up to do his own work while you do yours. Your boss was already given a notice and understands that he would be shadowing you for a short period of time.   Your coworkers, on the other hand, are curious. They glance over, murmuring amongst themselves who the man is. Yet, no one asks you any questions.    You do your own work as normal, answering calls and filling out reports. Every once in a while, Hoseok looks over and it feels like he’s a colleague of yours more than someone investigating your lifestyle.    By lunch, you eat by yourself at your cubicle, Hoseok mimicking you, and one more bathroom break is taken before you work straight until five o’clock. People clock out and you finish as well, waiting for him to pack up and stuff things back into his bag. Hoseok follows you out.   “Where to next?” he asks with a small smile.    You’re sleepy, but made awake by his question. “Umm...just home. Is there anything you’d like to eat for dinner?”   “Oh. I’m fine with anything,” he chirps and it feels better when there’s someone more full of life beside you. The energy is almost infectious. “Don’t mind me.”   “D-do you have a preference though?” The elevator reaches the ground floor and you walk off. “Between macaroni and lasagna.”   Hoseok hums a low note. “Lasagna sounds good.”   You smile. “Okay. I’ll have macaroni then.”   Sadly, the food you offer him isn’t freshly cooked or bought from a restaurant.   You stand in front of the machine in your pajamas, listening to the whirring, watching the yellow light and how your dinner spins on the dish slowly. Hoseok doesn’t mind eating frozen food as much as you thought he would. He says it makes him nostalgic on his childhood and he sits down across the table to you. It’s nice to have someone here that you can make small talk with.   You ask about his job and he tells you he works from nine to five much like you, partly in the office and the other part out on the field investigating cases. He seems to enjoy his line of work and his enthusiasm is inspiring.   But in the middle of the conversation, it strays off from him to you.   Hoseok calls your name and you look up. “Can I ask you something?”   “Of course.” You offer a reserved smile. “You’re allowed to ask any question, right?”   “I guess.” A tiny laugh comes from his mouth. “But I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”   “It’s fine,” you reassure. “Is there something the matter?”   “No. I’m just wondering if you’re always this isolated,” he’s blunt and his sharp eyes narrow in on you, assessing each of your movements. You swallow hard, perspiration from your hairline and he continues, “You don’t seem to speak a lot throughout the day. No pets, family, or friends at work?”   “I...umm….” There’s no lie to conjure up when the evidence is so obvious. “N-not really.”   “I’m not trying to insult you or anything.” Hoseok brows furrow and he tips his head to the side, staring like you have something on your face. “I’m genuinely curious.”   “I can’t…..really...get close to anyone.” The food is stale and you can’t swallow it down your gullet anymore. Your mouth is too dry. “I’m not that close to my friends anymore.”   “Is there a reason…?” he pries not for his own knowledge but to fill the report, figure out if you’re suffering enough. As if suffering could be definitely measured.    “I..umm…” You brace yourself with a deep breath, diverting your vision elsewhere. “I can’t really. If I ever love someone or someone loves me...they forget.”   His brows lift. “They….forget?”   The information is only known to few. All he knows is that you’ve been categorized into miscellaneous, the details of your ability are protected for your own privacy. But you nod anyhow, confirming his disbelief with hope for his aid. “They lose their memories about me. Everything that links me to them disappears. Pictures. Belongings...so I-uh can’t really um-...love anyone….”   “Oh.” He processes the gravity of the situation, grasping an understanding of why you’re trying so desperately to get rid of it, why you’re willing to go through this excruciating process. “I’m sorry.”   As inappropriate and even insulting as it is, it’s instinctual to apologize. He hasn’t seen a case like yours before.   You smile, understanding his sympathy. “No, it’s okay. It’s no one’s fault really and it’s out of my control. It’s not….as terrible as you might think.” The only way you can cope is through optimism. “It’s unique and I like to think I’m kind of like cupid.”   The corner of his mouth quirks. “Cupid? What do you mean?”   “Sometimes, they don't just forget. They end up meeting their soulmate.” Those who forget you often meet the person they’re supposed to be with, the person that isn’t you. You’re a matchmaker to those that you love. “At least I can help people, right?”   Hoseok stares. He watches you shrug, playing with your food before trying to take a bite. It’s quiet and he exhales. “That’s one way to look at it. It’s definitely unique.” He tries to match your chirpiness, but it comes up grimmer than intended. You recognize the pity and look away.   “I’ll do my best to help you, Y/N,” Hoseok murmurs, finishing up.   Tears cloud your vision and you nod, grateful for his sincerity, grateful that he’s recognized your hardships. “Thank you.”   //   It continues for the next few days — Hoseok shadows your quiet life, but he now knows your downlow existence isn’t purposeful. You were forced to live this way.    Gradually, you begin to enjoy his company. You become more comfortable with one another. It’s not so strange or nerve wracking anymore to be in his presence or have him accompanying you from place to place. If anything, it’s less lonely when he comes around breakfast, leaving after dinner. You share your meals with him, small talk becoming deeper and more interesting, and you don’t even see his clipboard anymore. It almost feels normal.   It’s a Saturday morning with Hoseok helps you run some errands. He escorts you to the grocery store, picking up his own things as the two of you weave through the many aisles. He insists on carrying your bags and you eventually relent. But as he pays for his own things, you decide to leave first, wanting to stop by the thrift store next door.   Though your steps come to a halt when you find an older lady struggling with her bags in the middle of the parking lot. She’s an old woman, hunched over, frail hands and shaking arms. It takes less than a second for her to drop her groceries and for fruit of all sorts to go tumbling out.   You step forward.   “Oh my goodness— oh, thank you so much for helping.”   “No, it’s...fine…” You reach down, collecting her produce and stuffing them back in the bag.   “You’re so sweet. Thank you.”   “I can bring it to your car if you’d like.”   “Would you? My back is feeling awful these days.”   “It’s not a problem.” You assist her with her bags, relieving the tension in her arms and shouldering the weight. By the time Hoseok exits the store and goes looking for you, confused at how you’ve disappeared, you’re finished loading her things in the back of her car.   He soon spots you and approaches. “Y/N?”   “Hey…”   The lady gently closes the truck of her small car. “Thank you so much for helping. I really appreciate it.” She looks over Hoseok and smiles softly. “Your wife is so kind. You’re very lucky to have someone so compassionate.”   “Oh...we’re…”   “Umm…” There’s no use in clearing up the misunderstanding, so you settle for, “You’re welcome.”   “Have a good day now.” You’re left standing there, watching her smile and get into her vehicle.   Hoseok walks towards the direction of your parked car with you, holding onto all the groceries. “What happened?”   You stop momentarily, looking over your shoulder to observe the way the car drives off. “I was just helping her with her groceries.”   But as your eyes are strayed off, Hoseok’s own are pinpointed on your face. There’s an expression that he can’t decipher, that seems conflicted and sad all at once. He’s not sure what spurs the next question, though it tumbles from his lips anyhow, “Did you know her?”   Your head turns, gaze meeting Hoseok’s. “She’s...my mom…”   And she didn’t recognize you whatsoever.   Your own mother gave birth to you and raised you.    There’s not even a single inkling or sign of awareness.   The realization slams into Hoseok and while you smile, walking off to the car, he can’t help but let his eyes bore into your backside, brows knitted together. His heart aches. It squeezes in his chest, making him uncomfortable. His words clog into his throat, creating a lump that hurts.   He can’t imagine — you, a sixteen year old, who believed you’re one of the few unfortunate who are powerless, only to have your abilities activated unexpectedly. And have your own family love you enough to forget about your entire existence. For no one to believe you when you went to the hospital, city hall, the police. For you to be lost without anyone to love.   For it to take this long for someone to recognize this terrible ability. For it to be this painful for you to try to get rid of it.   “You don’t have to feel bad,” you pipe up in the middle of the highway, breaking him from his thoughts. “It is what it is. I’m used to it. And my parents are doing well. That’s all that matters to me.”   “I’m not pitying you,” he clarifies, staring at the profile of your face. “I just….want to put myself in your shoes to get a better understanding.”   The corner of your mouth tugs and you glance at him. “I thought you weren’t supposed to become emotionally attached to your cases. Isn’t it bad to get too personal?”   Hoseok scoffs, leaning back. He admires your bravery to continue persevering so long in this kind of condition. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to do it. “I’m human. It’s natural to be compassionate.”   “You’re kind.” It’s a comment out of the blue but you mean it. A part of you was scared he wouldn’t care and it wouldn’t be a surprise considering the amount of people who saw you more as a case study than a human. “You’re very kind, Hoseok.”   “I try.” A soft laugh bubbles from his lips. “I think empaths do a better job than I do.”   “Empaths are forced to feel. They have no choice,” you muse. “Even when you don’t have that ability, what counts if that you’re trying. That’s admirable.”   A gentle smile pulls onto his features. “Are you curious on my actual ability?”   “A little.” You steal a peek at him before gripping the steering wheel tighter. “But I wouldn’t force you to share.”   “I want to. I feel like I know so much about you and your ability, but you don’t know that much about mine.” It’s a personal detail after all and you’re moved that he wants to treat you as an equal, not someone of higher authority. Hoseok’s smile grows. “It’s only fair, right?”   “Can I try guessing?” You offer and he tells you to go for it. “I don’t think you have a mental-based power. You can’t seem to read my mind and you’re not an empath either. I don’t think it’s strength-based. You don’t look like you have super strength.”   He scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”   At his pout, laughter squeezes out of you. “Can I guess…..emission category. Your smile makes the room warmer.”   “That’s….really beautiful.” He wonders why you would say something like that. But it’s meaningful, one of the highest compliments he’s received. “I wish. Unfortunately, my actual power’s a lot lamer. I’m a divine creationer. I can fabricate memories.”   “That’s not lame at all.” The blinker flickers on and you merge onto the street, getting closer to your apartment. Once you stop at a red light, you turn to look at him. “That’s amazing. It has to be better than labeled as miscellaneous, right?”   Hoseok grins. “I guess, but it’s not like I can make my own memories and at the end of the day, they’re fake.”   “I don’t think so,” you lightly refute. “I feel like it’s one thing to experience something for yourself in the moment, but the memory is what lasts. If you can make your own memories without experiencing it, then that’s limitless. You can feel like you’ve lived through anything. There would be no such thing as missed opportunities.”   “You’re right,” he softly murmurs. “I don’t use my ability a lot, but it doesn’t inhibit anything I do which I’m thankful for. I don’t think I’m in any place to complain. But I used to be really jealous of mind-readers and teleporters or people who can fly.”   “Same here.” You laugh, finding something in common with Hoseok. Your childhood was full of envy, watching other classmates discover and play with their abilities as you remained powerless. “I knew someone who could fly actually. They took me up to the sky once…”   You wistfully sigh and he grins, curious. “Really? Isn’t that illegal?”   “Don’t arrest me,” you tease. “This was a good decade ago and it wasn’t that dangerous. His name was Jungkook. We...uh...dated for a while...but I remember he carried me in his arms and yeah...it was fascinating. Really quiet up there actually. Would not recommend if you were scared of heights.”   You brush it off, but Hoseok can’t help asking, “What happened to him?”   “He ended up forgetting about me.” You’re nonchalant, looking straight ahead, but your voice is strained and your hands grip the steering wheel tighter. “And he met his soulmate. I think he’s married and has a kid now. Haven’t heard of him much after that.”   There’s silence and you break it with a small laugh before it suffocates you. “I’m glad he’s with someone who’s meant to be with him. In a sense, I bring people together.” You turn, parking the car in the lot. But as the engine dies out and you remove the keys, he doesn’t get out.   No one moves.   “You know, I don’t believe in soulmates,” Hoseok tells you quietly. “If everything was left to destiny, then no one needs to try, right? And if everything was predetermined, that means there’s no such thing as mistakes. I don’t believe in that.”   Your eyes are glossy, stirred from within. Fate. Destiny. Soulmates. All those that you’ve spoken with wished to some degree or another that such thing existed. That way, no one would have to be alone. That way, they could be comforted that someone out there was meant for them.   But that also meant you were terribly alone and it would be out of your control.   “You don’t believe in soulmates?”   “I don’t.” He shakes his head, gaze locked into yours. “I think we get to choose the people who we want to be with. We all have a choice.”   It’s moving. These are words you wished to hear. From anyone. Someone. They are comforting more than you ever thought was possible. It gives you a sense of hope that you hang onto, like a lone raft in the middle of the ocean. His voice is soothing, a lullaby. It’s reassuring.   //   It’s late at night when Hoseok’s tapping away at his keyboard relentlessly without a moment’s break. It’s near midnight, no one else on the floor of his office. The fluorescent lights are flickering above his head and it burns his eyes, giving him a throbbing headache. He takes a second to rest before downing the coffee in his thermostat.   It’s still not enough. None of it is. No matter how much effort he pours into your application, he doesn’t know if it’s good, if it’s sufficient. Your diagnosed depression and anxiety disorder is understandable — if he were in your circumstances, he’d be in constant devastation. Frankly, Hoseok’s surprised you’re still up with a job, living in society despite your ability.   But it doesn’t matter how he feels. He knows the facts. They’ve rejected people with less cause before, and he has no doubt others would be scared that your mental state would inhibit your decision making. After all, the guidelines are tough for a reason, tough for protection when they’re not protecting who they should be.   Still, Jung Hoseok tries his best to draft up a personal attached letter — strongly recommending that this case receive the request they have submitted, that the quality of life for this person would drastically improve if their ability is made obsolete. In his professional opinion and of all the cases he’s investigated, he’s never seen a case where the risk of the surgery has been more worth it.   Hoseok finishes the final draft after hours and stamps it with a special request emblem, red so that it’s seen. But he still doesn’t know if it’s enough. If any of this is enough.   “Hoseok?”    “Huh?”   “Are you alright?” He’s stopped eating, mouth hanging open to collect flies. As he catches himself, he seals his lips and sets his spoon down. “Is everything okay?”   “Sorry...I was just lost in thought.”   “Yeah, you looked like it,” you laugh.   Yet, Hoseok isn’t as bubbly as before. He’s resorted to playing with his food and after a moment, his eyes flicker up to you. “Y/N, I want to offer something to you.”   “What is it?”   “I think I can help you. And I want to.” He swallows hard, hands falling into his lap. “Let me fabricate memories for your parents.”   You sputter, choking on your food. It’s trapped in your throat and you grab your glass of water, downing half of it and then pounding your chest. “P-pardon?”   It’s too personal. Out of the scope of his job. Hoseok is becoming too emotionally invested in this case, too close, but if there’s any use for his ability, he wholeheartedly believes it’s now. “I want to try fabricating memories for your parents. They would remember that you’re their daughter and I’m sure those memories wouldn’t change or be removed by your own power.”   “I-….why?” You don’t understand why he wants to go this far to help you.   “I don’t know if your application will be received,” he delivers the news bluntly. “Your….circumstances are difficult to write on paper. And your diagnosis might work against you. I don’t know if it’ll go through.”   “Oh.”   “I’m trying my best, but I want to help you if I can. In any way possible.”   “I...I’ve already accepted this.” As much as you appreciate the gesture, you’re uncertain, unsure. “A-and….their memories would be fake.”   “But their love for you wouldn’t be. I can’t create emotions,” he tells you sincerely and it makes you nervous beyond belief. “You deserve better than this. You deserve to feel loved. It’s okay.”   The small home is silent, pins able to be heard if they were dropped on the floorboards.   Hoseok wonders why himself — why he wants to help so badly when he’s never gone this far before. He just knows it’s not because of sympathy or pity. Maybe because you remind him of himself. The constant acceptance, taking the path of least resistance, living a quiet life to not disturb others. Placating others, never fighting for yourself, for what you want, for what you believe in.   He wants to do something meaningful. He wants to fight for you.   “And if it doesn’t work?”   He smiles gently. “Then we’ll think of something else.”   It’s an old address that you barely remember. But once you’re standing in front of it, the house, the lawn, the mailbox, you realize nothing’s changed. It takes hard work and mental persuasion for you not to burst out crying. Hoseok must realize your turmoil, so he gives you a pat on the back, reassuring you before he approaches the path to the door.   The man ahead of you rings the bell and together, you listen to the parade of footsteps on the other side.   The door swings open. “Hi.” Your mom is aged, wrinkles decorated around her eyes, not recognizing you from a week ago when you helped her in the parking lot. “Can I help you?”   “Oh, we’re just wondering if you’d like to install a new air conditioning system in your house.” Hoseok makes up the lie on the spot and he’s bad — never a destined deceit manipulator. “Is your husband home?”   “Well, he is, but I don’t think we’re interested. I don’t even know if we ever use our air conditioning.” She still shouts for your father’s name over her shoulder.   Hoseok hums. “Oh, well, please contact us when you’re interested then.”   The man’s arms extend, palm open for a polite handshake. It doesn’t mean much. And your mother reaches out, shaking it without hesitation.    The moment she touches him, you watch as his eyes cloud over. Her grip becomes limp. Tension releases from her shoulders. You don’t know what’s happening, if it will work. Your breath is held in your throat but Hoseok isn’t nervous, staring at the woman before shutting his eyes in concentration.   He conjures up the fake memories — envisioning a happy day when she announced the pregnancy to her husband, a younger version of herself carrying you for nine months. Hoseok imagines how she would’ve felt like holding you for the first time, soothing you in the middle of the night as you cried, the times when you first walked, when you babbled her name.   He passes on as many childhood memories that he can possibly convey through his touch, recalling his own memories so they’re not completely groundless and baseless. Hoseok stitches together images of the first time you held her hands, the first time you entered school, when you graduated, when you got your first job, endless, endless memories….   And then he lets go.   There’s a pause.    Your mother’s eyes zone back into reality, crashing down from her trance. Her head falls to the side and her brows furrow. Most of all, her gaze is filled with recognition. “....Y/N?”   It’s the first time she’s called your name in a decade. “M-mom?”   She scoffs, looking between you and Hoseok. “What are you standing out here for? Who’s this?”   “Ummm….he-he’s a friend….selling air conditioning.” You laugh, bubbling out of you unintentionally and tears cloud your vision, clinging to your lashes as you blink. You wipe your face quickly before the tears can shed down your cheeks. It hurts that the repair of your life was so simply found but the pain was drawn out for so long. You’re relieved, overwhelmed, upset.   “Honey, who’s at the door?” Your father approaches and glances at both you and Hoseok. “Who’s this?”   “It’s nice to meet you.” Again, the man beside you extends his hand and your father shakes it out of courtesy.   The same thing occurs, strength lost, grip limp, eyes glossed over. It puts a strain on Hoseok to use his ability to such an extent, but he pushes through and tries his best through breaths staggering past gritted teeth. It’s a strain as he imagines the big events of your life, the little ones, allowing the other man to fill the spaces in between.   Hoseok fabricates the memories, drawing them out inside his own head, painting them and filling them with colour, bringing them to life. In ten seconds, he’s created a whole lifetime and he lets go.   “This is Y/N’s friend,” your mom introduces, pleasantly surprised.   “It’s a boy,” your father comments, eyes sweeping at his figure up and down, sizing the man up.   They act as if it’s always been like this — you, their precious daughter, a constant in the lives that they feel the need to protect. You’re emotional, hands shaking, knees weak. And you push past Hoseok, running up to the pair of them and engulfing them in an embrace. You hold them as close as you can, nearly sobbing into their shoulder. “W-what’s going on?”   Your mother laughs awkwardly while your father is as stiff as a stick. “What are you doing?”   “I love you,” you repeat in a broken whisper. It’s been years since they’ve last recognized you as their daughter. You’re no longer ostracized from your family, an outsider against your own will. They know who you are and they love you — your love is no longer a weapon used against yourself.   Your father calls you by your name seconds later, confused, and you let go. They don’t know what’s going on, befuddlement etched on their expressions, wondering if you did something wrong and now you’re trying to butter them up, but it’s nothing of that sort.   “Well….I’ll go get refreshments for your friend.” Your mother brushes off your odd behaviour when she finds Hoseok still awkwardly lingering at the front door step. She returns his kind smile and goes off into the kitchen.   Your father, on the other hand, steps away from you and grunts, remembering the stranger in his presence. “You have a job, boy?”   “It’s um….a government job.”   “Good pay?”   “Dad,” you whisper, but you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed. “C-can you give us a moment?”    His eyes narrow onto Hoseok, but he reluctantly walks away and you wait until you hear your parents talking in the kitchen, mother chiding him for being so stern. Your mind is still unable to wrap around it. It’s surreal and you’re about to have an emotional breakdown, overwhelmed that the people who saw you as a stranger finally recognized who you really were.   You can still remember the morning where the tide turned and you woke up with them shaking you, not knowing who you were, throwing you out and believing you were sick when you said they were your parents.    “I...I don’t know h-how to thank….I….”   “Don’t.” He smiles. “You don’t need to. I’m supposed to help, right? Just doing my job.”   “No. This is….way more than that….” He knows it too.   “I should go.” Hoseok turns reluctantly, hitching a thumb over to the road. It’s not what he particularly wants, but what he knows he should do. “Let you have some time to catch up. I’ll see you soon….the application is almost done...so….”   “You should stay,” you insist, not wanting him to go so soon. “F-for dinner, I mean….d-do you want to have some dinner?”   “No, I’m okay.” He grins and quips, “I’ll go have some lasagna instead.”   Hoseok ends up bidding you farewell, giving a wave when he’s standing by his car and you watch as he drives off. But when he’s gone, you’re not left in quietness on your lonesome. The warm laughter of your family fills the space behind you.    It was Hoseok that had given that back to you.   //   While the night is still young and you’re off surrounded by family in the warmth of your home, Hoseok sits alone at the desk inside his apartment. He spins around in his swivel chair, staring at the ceiling, reliving the moments of today inside his mind — playing back the memories like they’re tapes, recalling the way you looked at him, the way you smiled as he stood at the doorstep.    He sharply inhales, forcibly wrenching himself from remembering and he shakes off the emotion that’s been placed at his feet. Instead, the man composes himself and reaches for papers in his drawer, taking a pen inside the cup he has in the corner.   And Hoseok begins to write. Journal entries, scribbles, anything that comes to mind. He writes all he can remember, the first time he ever had an encounter with you to the little quirks he’s noticed in his days of observation. He writes papers upon papers, afraid that he’ll forget.   Afraid that one day, he won’t remember this anymore.   //   “I’ve sent the paperwork off. Everything looks good.”   He tells you the news over coffee instead of being in the quietness of his office. This is one of the last times Hoseok might ever see you again — his job is finished. He can’t go any further than he already has and knowing such, he savours the moment. “I’m glad.”   “It was nice to meet you.” The man tries his best to remain professional, but he slips, showing his faults when he becomes too sincere, “I...hope things work out for you, Y/N. You deserve it.”   “Thank you...for everything that you’ve done for me. Helping me with these documents, trying to understand where I’m coming from...um...and helping with my parents. I don’t...I just don’t know how I can ever repay you.”   “Don’t.” Hoseok grins, coffee cup warm in his hand as he stares at you. “I don’t do things to be repaid.”   “Let me at least take you out for dinner,” you offer after spending nights brewing over it. You don’t know how you could ever express your gratitude or pay back this debt you owe, but this is the only thing you thought of. “It’s the least I can do. I haven’t offered you a real meal when you stayed with me, and I want to thank you.”   “I...ummm...don’t really go out with any of my clients.” It’s definitely strange, but deep down a part of him wants it too. Hoseok reminds himself that it’s over — his part is done. It’s okay to see you again. “But I’ll make an exception this time.”   You smile. “I promise I’ll make your time worthwhile.”   He scoffs, leaning forward over the table, closer to you with mischief glimmering in his eyes. “You better or I’ll charge you for my time.”   It’s a simple dinner, a place he picked that’s rather modest and intimate. You order a soup and he orders noodles and you chat while waiting, while eating. For the first time, his questions aren’t asked to answer forms he has to fill out later. Conversations aren’t about his work or your ability. Nothing like that at all.    The two of you speak about childhood memories, where you grew up, where he grew up, exchanging similar school stories before ranting about kid shows you used to watch and celebrity scandals that those actors ended up getting in. It’s fairly mundane, ridiculous even, but easy. It’s easy to talk to him, comfortable, and you aren’t nervous like the first time when you sat across from his desk.   The food ends up being cold, but none of you mind over some heated conversations on the topic of how plausible Spider-Man's abilities are in real life. The debate aside, the outing goes well.   Before you know it, it’s ended and he’s walking you down the street, hands deep in his pants pocket, steps synced to yours.   “I..uh parked here.”   “I parked over there.”   “Oh.” You laugh, the coldness nipping at your nose and making spoken words into clouds of condensation. “What a coincidence. I..um...guess this is goodbye then.”   “Yeah.” For a few seconds, Hoseok’s eyes flicker down to your lips. His skin is glowing underneath the lamppost’s yellow light and you notice how the pink of his tongue peeks out to wet the chapped corners of his mouth. But instinctively, you step back, refusing to kiss him — for his sake, more than yours.   Hoseok must notice your apprehension since he quickly focuses back onto your eyes again, swallowing hard as apologies clog his throat, never coming out. He takes a deep breath to compose himself and says, “I-I’d love to see you again.”   “What?”   “I don’t know about you, but I had a really good time tonight.” His fists curl and he desperately wishes he had some liquid courage. But he grabs at the chance anyhow before it passes through his fingertips. In the past two weeks, he’s gotten to know you well and he likes you a lot. “And...and I’d love to see you again some time. If you want to.”   “I….” You’d like that, very much. Except— “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’m not in a position where I can have a relationship.”   Your abilities prevent you from getting close to anyone and it’s the responsible thing to distance yourself from others before you end up getting hurt. But you’re beginning to feel particularly reckless and you don’t want him to leave.    You want to see him again.   “As friends,” Hoseok adds on quickly. “We can see each other as friends, right?” It’s a lie. He’s not a destined deceit manipulator and he knows for a fact he can’t just be your friend, but Hoseok doesn’t want to fabricate memories with you. He doesn’t want to daydream and wonder ‘what if’ tomorrow or in the next ten years. He wants things to be real with you. He wants to have the experience, to be in the present, even if the memories don’t last.   You’re conflicted.   The man who stands in front of you on this cold night is dangerous. You don’t know if you can take the leap, bear to be hurt again, muster up enough courage. But as he gazes at you in a way you’ve never known before, you step forward.   “Okay.” It’s a soft whisper that means everything and a smile tickles its way onto your face. “But you better make my time worthwhile, Hoseok. Or I’ll charge you for my time.”   A grin spreads into his cheeks and he has to resist the urge of cheering. “I promise I’ll make it worthwhile.”   //   Accepting Hoseok’s one request turns to two, three, four. A simple dinner and movie becomes long walks in the parks and afternoon picnics, conversations shared between glasses of wine or in the car driving to somewhere. You end up sharing breakfast, brunch, dinner with him, holding hands while window shopping, going out for ice-cream before ending up at your house again, this time with him laying on your bed.   It’s wrong. Guilt, fear, terror boils in the pit of your stomach, but he somehow makes them silent in his presence. You can’t bear to end things, so you hope for the best, that the application will go through quicker and someone out there can help remove this ability from you before it’s too late.   Before Hoseok succumbs to your curse.   But your wish takes its time, just like all the years before. And in the meanwhile, time spent with Hoseok makes days fly, years short. He squirms his way closer to you without warrant, flashing grins and smiles, telling you not to worry. He knows what you’re afraid of and he assures you nothing will happen.    It doesn’t work. He doesn’t have the gift of persuasion or of speaking honey words that could hypnotize you. The more comfortable you become with him, the more terrified you are.   What begins as casual starts to become too serious. You try to not let him close, but the effort proves futile. It’s wrong. Wrong to be with him. Wrong that you could ever be with someone. Wrong that to let this happen when you knew better. All of it is wrong and goes against what you’re allowed.   And the fear eventually boils over.    Only, it happens on a Tuesday evening. During the first argument.   “—I mean, would it kill you to at least rinse the plates?” you’re muttering at the sink, scrubbing furiously at the dishes and a sauce stain that won’t come off for some ungodly reason.   Hoseok scoffs. “I did.”   “Obviously not well enough.”   “Why don’t you just move over and let me wash.” He joins your side and the way he offers to do it isn’t because of a good heart, but made from annoyance at how you’re irritated. It’s a cycle that both refuse to break because of stubbornness.    “You don’t wash them right.”   You’re done anyways, piling the dishes on top of the rack to let them dry. He’s unimpressed. “There’s a right way to wash them?”   “Yes.” Your tone is curt and it’s humiliating how childish and dumb this fight is. You can’t back down for the sake of your embarrassment. “You just have to make them clean. Just cause they’re my dishes doesn’t mean you can just half-ass it.”   “I don’t half-ass it,” he defends, pitch lifting.   “Then why are your dishes at your place always cleaner than mine?” The tap is turned off and you turn to him with hands on your hips. This was definitely the stupidest thing the two of you have gotten mad about.   “Then maybe we should just share the same dishes!”   “How are we supposed to share the same dishes, Jung Hoseok?!”   “Move in with me!”    He shouts it suddenly, but not exactly impulsively. It’s as if he’s been thinking about it for a while now, considering it carefully and looking for a time to say it to you. The time isn’t perfect now — not at all close to how he imagined bringing it up, but the pair of you have never had time on your side after all.   Hoseok’s heaving his breaths, catching up on breathing and you’re reeling, brows lifted, confused. Your voice is soft like he just personally attacked you, and in a way he did. You’re not hurt or damaged, just….caught off guard.   “W-why would I do that?”   He realized it now, standing in the kitchen with you, at both your ugliest, fighting about dishwashing. He doesn’t walk away. Neither do you. And Hoseok realizes he wouldn’t want to be with anyone else doing this, that if the rest of his life is filled with this stupid shit, he wouldn’t mind at all.    As long as he’s here with you.   “Because I—”   “No!” You rush in urgency, pettiness escaping you. The dumb fight is forgotten in an instant and you can’t bear it. The words have caught in your throat, stuck and causing a thick lump that makes it hard to swallow. You know what he’s about to say and you don’t want to hear it. “Don’t fucking say it, Jung Hoseok. Don’t you dare.”   He whispers your name, pleading with you and trying to get your attention. He has to.   You step forward, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, head slumped. “Please, Hoseok,” you beg him. “Don’t say it. Don’t tell me.”   A secure hand curls around your wrist, an arm wrapping around your waist. His head falls onto your shoulder. “Nothing will happen.”   “It’ll happen,” you sob out. “It’ll happen, so don’t. Please. I don’t want to hear it.”   “I have to.” He holds you tighter, grip full of unspoken apologies.    “No, no, you don’t.” You’re crying pathetically, voice cracking unpleasantly, tears shedding down your face and falling onto the floor as if it’s raining.   “I can’t change how I feel about you,” he whispers with a ghost of a smile on his lips, pressing it right on the juncture of your neck. “I can’t hide it, so I might as well say it out loud, right?”   “N-no...please…”   “I want to tell you before it’s too late.”   “Hoseok—”   “I love you.”   He declares it boldly and without hesitation, wearing a soft smile tinged with sadness. Sobs break out of your throat and you tremble in his grasps. Hoseok holds your face in his hands, making you look at him past your blurry vision and he repeats it with conviction, “I’m in love with you.”   You hug him, holding on like you’re an anchor, afraid he’s going to float away. You’re unable to say anything or choke out a coherent syllable, so he leans in to kiss you, dying to do so after the first date.   Hoseok tilts his head and when his mouth meets yours, it’s soft, though not entirely sweet. Your salty tears linger, his touch bitter to you, but he remains gentle, gingerly kissing your lips over and over again with staggering exhales of regret stolen from the seam of his mouth. Hoseok soaks in your expression with half-lidded eyes before he shuts them, relishing in the feeling alone.   This is what you were so apprehensive about. It’s your worst nightmare. And when it’s over, you’re left with heartache.   Hoseok leans his forehead against yours and he promises something he can’t, “I’ll remember you again and I’ll fall in love with you again. Over and over. As many times as we need.”    You embrace him close, but it doesn’t matter if he’s an arm’s length away or pressed against your body. He’s leaving, body here but mind not. He’s confident that he won’t forget, blindly so, believing in the letters he’s written about you, journal entries, pictures, that you’re here with him.   He’s wrong.   Once he’s fallen asleep against his will, giving in to the heavy seduction of slumber, you slip away from his grasps, grabbing clothes to cover your naked skin and you leave your own home.   You can’t bear to stay and watch as confusion takes over his face, wondering who you are, why he’s in a stranger’s home. Once he takes the traces of himself out of your place in the morning, you’ll be left solely with his scent clinging to the bed sheets and your own quiet mind.   And as you had imagined, when Hoseok awakes hours later, he is bewildered.   The home is empty and he picks himself up slowly off the bed, clothing himself, calling out to no one. He is utterly confused and glances at the picture frames on shelves, photographs of a woman he doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand, clutching his own head and deducts that this was a one night stand.   Whoever you are, it was a one night stand, a reckless mistake he made while drunk.   His memory is void.   All the dark ink of the letters and entries he’s written about fades into the paper, becoming invisible. The pictures snapped of you and him together erases you until he’s alone in the frame. Every effort made vanishes. It’s wiped away from his brain. He doesn’t know your name.   While Hoseok can fabricate memories, his own are ripped away from him.   But he cannot even mourn for such a tragic irony. He simply digs his feet in his shoes that are placed near the entrance in a neat fashion. He digs his hands into his pants pocket. He leaves.   And just like that, Jung Hoseok is gone from your life.

[Epilogue]   There’s something important on his mind that he can’t quite pinpoint.   Hoseok feels like he’s forgetting something very important. It’s one of those things that he recalls his past self told his future self that he definitely needs to remember. But it isn’t an errand he needs to run or something he has to pick up from the grocery store, he knows that much.   Still, it’s on the tip of his tongue, the edge of his mind and it drives him crazy.   Hoseok doesn’t know what it is and he can’t dispel this discomfort from his chest.   “Umm...excuse me.” There’s a tap on his shoulder and he turns to find a pretty girl with sparkling, brown eyes smiling brightly at him. “I think it’s your turn.”   “O-oh…” He follows to where she’s pointing and rushes forward to the counter where the worker is waiting patiently. Hoseok makes his coffee order and walks over to the other station while his drink is being made. The girl from behind him also makes her own order and then comes over. He burns in embarrassment and for some reasons out of instinct, he strikes up a conversation instead of brushing it off. “S-sorry about that.”   The female giggles. “It’s no problem.” She looks away and then steals a glance at him. “I don’t blame you. Monday mornings can be tiring and sometimes I forget where I am.”   “Yeah.” He releases a long exhale, smiling. “I was just really lost in thought. Hopefully the coffee will help.”   “It probably will. It always does.”   He nods and before the conversation can die off, he asks, “Do you come here a lot?”   “Sometimes.” She fiddles with the fabric of her floral dress that hugs her frame. Hoseok feels nervous in her presence and he’s certain he’s never felt this way before, but the emotion isn’t foreign to him. He’s not sure why. “Actually, I don’t know why I went to this one today. I just got a feeling that I should. Usually, I go to the one on fifth avenue.”   “Oh. Is fifth avenue’s coffee shop better?”   She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I think it depends on the person.”   Hoseok swallows hard and goes in for the kill. “I should check it out then. I’ve never been. But I wouldn’t really know what’s good to order. I think I would need someone...to join me…”   The girl blinks and laughter bubbles up her throat — it’s pleasant to the ears. “Are you suggesting that I be the one to join you?”   He shrugs, playing it casual. “If you want, I’d love to take you out for coffee some time.”   She lightly scoffs, smile still spread into her rosy cheeks. “Just because you’re so smooth, I’ll agree. But I don’t even know your name.”   “Jung Hoseok.” He extends his hand and she shakes it.   “Seo Soojin.” The woman grins and his chest feels a flutter. “It’s nice to meet you.”   His smile expands. “Likewise.”   //   Jung Hoseok’s met his soulmate. He’s confident in it.   While he doesn’t even believe in the concept of a kindred soul, his mind is consistently boggled over this girl. How easily she fits into his life. How much she matches him, compliments his personality, makes up for what he lacks. She is a puzzle piece, fitting right into his life like she was always meant to be there.   She loves to help people as much as he does. She gardens in her spare time, a hobby that she adores and she eventually teaches him how to keep flower bushes alive. Soojin is bright and beautiful, chirpy and cute, reminding him of sunshine itself. She is everything he could want.   A date turns to two, three, four. He’s happy and he thinks he’s never felt like this before.   Yet, something feels missing.    “Hoseok?”   “Hmmm?”   “Are you okay?” she asks over a candle light dinner, restaurant filled with murmurs from patrons around them. Hoseok lifts his face to find her frowning in concern, having gone quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time.    “Y-yeah, I’m fine. Sorry. Was just thinking about something else.”   He’s holding himself back. It doesn’t feel right. It feels—   It feels wrong.   Hoseok’s uncomfortable and his instincts make him lean away from her touch, makes him keep her at a distance. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, why he’s acting like this when the perfect girl is in front of him.   “Jung, you there?” His boss is at the door, leaning on the frame, interrupting his stream of thoughts. “Boy, you look tired.”   “Yeah, I’m sorry.” He leans back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose to get a grip of himself before he gets fired.   “Well, just wanted to tell you that case number six four three seven is moving ahead. They were going to throw out the application, but your special request letter ended up changing some minds up there. It’s usually not your style to be anything other than professional. But even I gotta admit it was pretty touching. You’ve never personally vouched for anyone so that was a surprise.” The older man shrugs. “I know it was a special case to you, so I thought I’d let you know.”   “W-what?”   Hoseok is more confused than before. He has no idea what the man is talking about.   He searches through his computer. Nothing. There aren’t any files on this case number. He’s baffled and ends up dropping his knees, fingertips running through the files in his file cabinet.    There’s no paperwork whatsoever in his belongings.   Hoseok becomes fixated on the issue, obsessed. It’s like he’s an inch away from scratching an itch on his back that’s been driving him to the brink of insanity. And he is compelled by a sixth sense to spend a late night at the office, skipping dinner out on his girlfriend and sending a delayed text message as an apology. He leaves his office to the main floor, going to the very back in the room of cabinets where they keep copies of everything. Hoseok files through the numbers until there’s white paper coating the carpeted floor. He pulls everything out that he can.   It bothers him. Bewitched him.   He needs to know what’s going on.   And after hours of drowning in the sea of paperwork, he finds the file folder with the correct string of numbers. Euphoria fills his body as he holds it and he doesn’t waste time to flip it open. Hoseok finds your application, the report he filled out, the letter he wrote attached to it — he doesn’t understand.   He didn’t write this.   He doesn’t remember doing this.   But these are his words, his writing, his signature marked at the bottom.   “Are you alright, Seok?”   It lingers on his mind and he’s only shocked out of it when Soojin hugs him from behind when he’s at the sink, washing the dishes. Her arms wrap around his abdomen, tight, scared at how distant he feels. It gives him a sense of déjà vu, but it still feels wrong. Wrong. Wrong!   He pulls her off of him.   Hoseok shuffles away in discomfort, escaping from her grasps and wandering hands. “I’m….fine. You should go to bed,” he mumbles. “Didn’t you say you were sleepy?”   His girlfriend ends up walking away in silence, hurt. He doesn’t know what’s going on.   This is his soulmate. There’s nothing he can complain about, no faults in her at all that he can nitpick. She’s perfect for him, a flawless couple that makes others ooze of envy. But he’s the sole cause of the rift between them. Hoseok is self-sabotaging his relationship. And he doesn’t know why.   “We haven’t had a date in so long,” she is curt, angry and he feels guilt overwhelm him when he realizes he made her this way. “We’re going to the movies this weekend.”   “I’m busy—”    “No but’s, Hoseok.” Soojin is done and walks away, forcing him to begrudgingly oblige.    It happens on a Tuesday evening.   The sun is falling from the horizon, painting the world in golden hues. His eyes are bleary, muscles aching from the long day of work, and yet he has to drag his legs forward. Soojin is stomping ahead of him, steps heavy, marching straight ahead with a frown.   He lags behind her with his hands deep in his pockets, sighing.   But something catches in his peripheral vision.   It’s a flutter of someone's skirt, their hair brushing in the wind, a sweet scent that he used to know wafting over to overwhelm his senses. It’s someone familiar. And his heart stings. His head whips away from the front and he looks over, eyes locking with this person’s.   You’re standing across the street.   Feet rooted in the ground. Shock. Fear. Relief. Longing. And above all, a sorrowful regret etched on your beautiful features that takes Hoseok’s breath away. He knows you from somewhere, though he can’t pinpoint it. Maybe at some point you had sat across his desk from him nervously fiddling with your fingers in your lap, maybe he had sat across from you at a restaurant table….maybe this….maybe that….   All Hoseok is certain about is that he can’t move away.   You can’t either, staring, watching, frozen in time as people pass by on the street towards their homes. Hoseok softly gazes at you, the way the golden dusk light makes you shine somehow.   He can’t look anywhere else.   It takes ten seconds before Soojin realizes he’s no longer following her and she turns around on her heels. “Hoseok! What are you doing?!” But he ignores her. He can’t hear her whatsoever.    It’s instinct that takes over Hoseok, making him cross that street. He takes a step forward.   And like he promised, he doesn’t need his memories.

[joontier]

“One-Love”| CH. 2 - The Newcomer

–> Summary: Love translates to zero in the tennis scoring system – the only thing keeping the scoreless player on the court is his love for the game.

–> Pairings: jung hoseok x female reader; kim seokjin x female reader

–> Rating: NC17

–> Genre/warnings: tennis player hoseok! au; tennis player seokjin! au; crazy rich asians inspired! au; fluff, humor (as usual), eventual smut; more warnings as the story progresses

–> Words: 2.4k

–> A/N: Words that are both in bold and italics are spoken in Korean

“One-Love” Masterlist

Chapter 2: The Newcomer

“Jung Hoseok!”

He doesn’t even spare you a glance when he runs past you, letting out an evil cackle. “That’s right! Run away before I catch up Jung!”

“Ah your Korean is improving! I wish your legs would too!”

Tennis lessons with Hoseok are on a daily basis now: mornings with him during Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and you spend afternoons with him during the remaining days. Although Hoseok won’t be able to beat you in a game anytime soon, the boy is continuously working on his ground shots and is making daily progress.

Hoseok’s regular training has not only drastically improved his skills but also your father’s tennis clinic. For some reason, your cheeky stranger-turned-friend had convinced at least twenty more people to play tennis, both students and parents alike. Soon enough, your dad’s tennis clinic was flourishing. All six courts at Thames were fully-booked during mornings and afternoons.

When Hoseok initially expressed his intention to train daily, it had worried your father because he knew daily practice could easily burn Hoseok out and eventually stop playing altogether and for Hoseok was not worth the risk, especially for someone like him who has shown so much potential in such a short period of time.

Hoseok was relentless nevertheless, constantly convincing your father to have his trainings scheduled on a daily basis. As much as your father enjoys teaching the sport he loves the most, he always prioritizes his students’ well-being before anything else.

When you had asked Hoseok about it, he was undecided if he had plans of going professional. All he knew was that he wanted to take his training seriously, wherever it may take him in the future. He had the markings of a true athlete – passionate and determined, but in this discipline, you can only get so far without support (and later on, sponsors).

Your father then advised Hoseok to voice this concern to his parents to help him decide. The boy came to practice one afternoon, his mother trailing behind him and both clad in a matching all-white ensemble just like when you first saw Hoseok. Mrs. Jung, unsurprisingly just as bright as her son, was smiling the whole way though. “Well, Hobi talks so much about it that I wanted to try it for myself too,” she jokes as Hoseok shows her around and introduces her to the rest of the group.

Hoseok leaves his mother with your dad for the meanwhile while he gets his warm-ups done. She tells him on, telling stories of how her son would come home all sticky from practice, sharing what he had done both at school and during training. “Truth is…” she starts, watching her son jog laps around the court, “…I’ve never seen my son so happy before. He’s even doing better in school nowadays! I know he’s already smart but he’s definitely different now…”

“Your son is very smart, Mrs. Jung,” you can’t help but attest her statement. It’s the truth anyways and you’re going to support you friend all the way.

“Ah you must be ________!” Mrs. Jung extends her arm out and you return the gesture. “Oh you’re too sweet. No wonder Hobi lik—”

“Mom!” Hoseok cuts in quickly, chuckling nervously. “Sorry, she gets carried away all the time.” He pulls her away from where you and your dad were standing, muttering about learning basic stretching routines and spreading rumors as he drags her away.

-

“Seokjin Kim,” Nadia mutters from where she’s seated from the bleachers, only a meter away from where you’re standing in the court. With one hand holding up the cookie she’s munching on, the other sweeps away the crumbs that fall on the glossy pages of her book.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Seokjin Kim!” Her voice gets louder, catching the attention of a few students who were passing by. She points with a chocolate chip-stained finger to the boy who’s drawing attention to himself with his unforeseen talent.

“Seokjin Kim – one year ahead, owns two penthouses at Narra Residences aka just the most expensive residential building in this country? Shipping magnate? Kim Logistics? DM Forwarding Services? Surely, you’ve heard one of those names…” You don’t answer, not following where she’s this conversation was heading. “…right?” She purses her lips at you, ‘tsk’-ing at your lack of knowledge on these ‘basic’ things.  Honestly, you haven’t been paying much attention to what she’s telling you for the past minute, but who could possibly have?

His broad shoulders alone are enough to demand attention. You honestly would have mistaken him for a swimmer than a tennis player with the sheer broadness of it. The boy unbelievably has sharp features too for someone who is allegedly around your age. Strong brows, cat-like eyes, and those lips, god! You don’t even want to start on those plump lips, how wonderful it must feel to touch them with the pads of your fingers, how soft they must be against your slightly calloused fingers. As if on cue, the stranger lets his tongue poke out a little to moisten those glorious lips that it takes such a great effort from you not to gasp.

Nearly inhuman face aside, you are at awe at how he hits the ball with such power. Almost all his shots land near the baseline. For once you see Agus, one of the lead instructors, return them with slight struggle. For now, tennis at Thames was viewed as more of additional fitness regime for students and parents alike. Thames wasn’t known for homing aspiring tennis players, though that was ought to change when your dad came to the school. That’s why when Seokjin readies himself for a serve, you see Agus move a few steps behind the baseline, feet shuffling – one thing latter the only does when he’s nervous.

Admittedly, there was still obviously plenty to work on – Seokjin’s forehand is comparatively weak, his slices only land with pure luck but this new kid’s backhand and serves are fatal. He makes up the lack of spin with his strength, which is by the way, evidenced by the expanse of skin afforded by his sleeveless dry-fit top where his toned arms are on full display.

Surely this boy couldn’t possibly be a year older than you as mentioned by Nadia? With a face and body like that?  

“Well honey, let me fill you in on the basics. Seokjin Kim, one of two heirs of shipping magnate Hyungjin Kim. Nearing a century in the industry, Kim Logistics is one of the leading multinational logistics company, supporting global trade in over a hundred countries and servicing the world through eighty thousand employees. Kim Logistics has monopolized the shipping industry particularly in Asia where the shortened name ‘KimLo’ has been declared a household name for forwarding services.”

You let out a puff of air, breathless even though Nadia did all the speaking. How she learned all this information was beyond you. “On top of that, his dad is included in Forbes Korea’s Top 20.”

“Who are you talking about?” The same question is heard for the second time today, this time by Hoseok who sets his tennis bag down beside a sighing Nadia. “Do y’all even know a single soul in this campus?”

“Nope. Sorry who are you again?”

“Hey! I just got here!”  

As Hoseok rummages through his bag for his shoes, you tell him about the newcomer, Nadia reluctantly filling in the details you couldn’t remember. Just like you, Hoseok doesn’t really pay attention to what this Seokjin dude has to offer, how much his family was worth, or what damned list his father is on. He watches you watch the newcomer with such fascination, wondering if you find him attractive or you were just curious. Undoubtedly, Seokjin Kim was truly a sight to behold, that he can admit to himself but will never say out loud, not when there’s going to be another guy who could possibly steal all your attention.

You don’t even notice that he’s gotten braces.

If it wasn’t obvious enough, Hoseok has been harboring quite the crush on you. His mother knows, his best friend Namjoon knows, Jimin knows (for some reason, the now eight-year-president has the sense for these things), twins Jason and Jake from tennis know, heck, even Mickey, the family dog, probably knows he likes you! Obviously like the coward that he is, there is absolutely no way he’s going to confess his feelings, not when you’re already great friends. He’s already decided that your friendship is worth more than a romantic one.

Soon enough, your father calls you both to the court for practice. You both bid Nadia goodbye, who decides it’s time for to her to go home and finish some school work. Your dad waves, gesturing for you to come over where he is, now standing beside Seokjin. Hoseok’s heart clenches when you greet the new guy, jealousy adding to the pain brought about by the new installments on his teeth. Nevertheless, he follows suit, flashing Seokjin a smile. When you finally notice his braces, you give him a flick on his forearm, gesturing to the brackets on his teeth. Hoseok’s stance straightens at this, chest puffing out lightly before you both head off to do your warm-ups.

After your warm-ups with him, Hoseok barely got to talk to you during practice.

Your father has made you do a practice set with the newcomer. You win the grueling match with a tight score of 7-5, a set that lasted for an hour and has every one on the courts on edge. The afternoon training sessions had already ended halfway through your match and nearly all of the trainees present became spectators. Although Seokjin had won the first two games, you had managed to catch up, nerves wearing out. Seokjin was strong and agile but you outsmarted him, returning his shots to his forehand and tiring him out by making him run all over.

You were… for lack of a more appropriate word, exhausted. Every fiber of your muscle was on fire, you were sweating more than you did in a sauna, and you were gasping for breath after every game. At four all, you had completely lost track of scoring, fully depending on the umpire. Truthfully, you were doubtful that you could score a game against Seokjin, let alone beat him.

You had lost hope the moment your father told you to play a set with the Seokjin.  

You knew this set wasn’t only to see how Seokjin plays – his strengths and weaknesses but this match was also a critical point at your father’s reputation. There were plenty of people watching, more from those who were on their way home from their afternoon activities. If you would win, your father’s credibility could be strengthened, despite having just half of the strength Seokjin possesses. You didn’t even want to think about the consequences of losing.

Hoseok could see right through the façade you were putting up during the first games – you were anxious. You talked less, you barely smiled and if you did, it looked forced. The rest of the spectators looked just as intense as you and Seokjin: muted, save the resonating sound of the fuzzy ball hitting against the strings of the racket. Hoseok rummages through his bag and takes out his two iPads and clicks on the Notes applications. The umpire calls for a water break, the perfect opportunity. He holds both gadgets on his hands whooping and cheering for you.

‘If it were easy I would do it!’ ‘I stayed up all night doing this sign.’

Your cheeks are on fire, hiding your face with a towel from the embarrassment. The onlookers join in instantly, cheering under Hoseok’s lead. Your dad and Seokjin even laughs when Hoseok doesn’t leave Seokjin out, cheering him on as well. Hoseok smiles when he sees the same slowly etch into your anxious features. He’s supposed to leave now, his training over and all, but he decides to stay despite the missed call and text messages he’s been receiving from his driver and his mom. Before you both knew it, the set ends and some of the spectators go nearer and congratulate you.

Hoseok deems this as his time to take leave, handing his bags to his driver Adit. He takes another look at you who’s attending to all those who have come to you and Seokjin to commend the match. When the small crowd clears away, you’re left with just Seokjin. You have been looking for Hoseok when the match as you owe him a great deal of thanks. Your eyes drift left to right searching for the boy with the gleaming smile. That’s odd, since Hoseok never leaves without saying goodbye.

When Seokjin calls your name, your searching is momentarily stopped. “Hey, great game earlier.” You realize that the two of you have never talked when the match ended, so you shake his hand with an apologetic smile. “You gave me a hard time back there.” He laughs at this, muttering something about trying at the very least.

“I guess we’ll be seeing each other more often then?”

“Ye-oh!” You’re caught mid-sentence when you accidentally step on a stray ball. You feel your knee giving in but a pair of strong arms catch you. One hand initially lands on your breast but your savior immediately adjusts it down to your waist to help you get up.

Holy fuck!

You’re rendered speechless at what just transpired, shuffling your feet so you turn face to face with Seokjin. “I-I uhh…” You have lost absolutely all coherence and that carnal feeling that shoots through your core. You never had experience with a boy before, let alone have one grope you. Good god. You were royally fucked. It doesn’t help that Seokjin is also staring at you, eyes a lighter brown with the sunlight in his eyes. You gulp as your eyes travel to his neck…were men’s necks always this…delectable? He seems even hotter now that he’s drenched in sweat. ‘No!’ shouts the little voice at the back of your head, screaming at you for the past ten seconds, scolding at you for not getting ahold of yourself.

Your father coughs, breaking the tension-filled air instantaneously. He bids goodbye as he hands you your tennis bag. Your father doesn’t linger any longer, yet you know he’s expecting you to follow at once. Settling with a curt wave towards Seokjin, you jog after your dad who’s walking farther away.

[ponett]

Welp... it’s over. After nine years, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic is over. I just got done watching the series finale with Anthony and, just like I knew I would, when the credits rolled, I cried my eyes out

I should probably say something, huh. I’ve been sharing thoughts like this mostly on Twitter lately, but I started using Tumblr to blog about MLP, so I don’t think it would be right to post this anywhere else

I have a complicated relationship with MLP:FiM. It’s a show that got really hit or miss after the second season, and it has a fandom so toxic and so full of edgy libertarians that it scared me off from formally participating in fandoms for the rest of my life. But it’s also probably my favorite TV show of all time. There are other shows that are much better written, that have more to say, that are more consistent, even including several other cartoons from the same decade. But I think I’d be lying to myself if I said it wasn’t my favorite show

No other piece of media has had as massive of an impact on my life as My Little Pony

I grew closer to some of my closest high school friends because of our shared enthusiasm for the show. I started PonyPokey with Jake and Derek and made a bunch of bad videos and got invited to be on a wildly disorganized BronyCon panel with Jenny Nicholson in 2012. (We went on stage immediately after Lauren Faust’s panel. I barely said a word due to stage fright.)

After years of being too afraid to share my art online, I started putting more effort into learning digital art so that I could draw ponies. It started out rough, but with the drive to improve, I quickly got better. I started Fluttershy Replies. For the first time, I had an audience. I had people who cared about my work and supported me. Even as times have changed, many of you have been following me since way back then

Around the time I came out as bi in 2012, I got really into MLP shipping. Writing sappy comics and drawing sappy art became an outlet for my years of pent up feelings, and helped me sort out a lot of stuff. My Little Pony also completely changed the views on femininity that had been beaten into my skull since childhood. Suddenly, it wasn’t this strange, alien thing to be afraid of. MLP, at its heart, is a show about how there’s no wrong way to be a girl. That’s an incredibly powerful message. Rarity wasn’t a vapid snob. Fluttershy wasn’t a background character who got made into the butt of the joke. Pinkie wasn’t a ditz. These were characters written to be empathized with. And writing about my own feelings from the perspective of Fluttershy felt... right. It took me a few years to fully process those feelings, but eventually, I realized the truth. I was a trans woman. And a cartoon about horses was the first step on my path to realizing this

In 2013, one of the roughest years of my life, I decided to download RPG Maker on a whim to give myself a distraction. Naturally, my first instinct was to make a game where Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash kiss. What was initially supposed to be a short, Fantastic Game-esque playground of silly little jokes spiraled out of control and became Super Lesbian Horse RPG, a game that I poured my heart and soul into over the course of a year. And then, a couple years later, my desire to preserve the ideas from my copyright-infringing fangame also spiraled out of control, as all my creative projects do, and became SLHRPG’s successor: Super Lesbian Animal RPG. SLARPG isn’t really a reskinned MLP fangame anymore--it’s more like a new game inspired in part by my old project. The story has been drastically rewritten, the characters changed, the levels and gameplay redesigned. Most of the cast of the new game wasn’t in the original project in any form. There’s much, much, much, much, much more new content than old left in the game. And the original game had already strayed so far from the canon anyway. But I’m also not sure it would exist without MLP

I made a bunch of friends online, including close friends I still have to this day. I met the people like Bee and Thomas who I’m still working with on SLARPG. Most importantly, because we both blogged about MLP and had some mutual friends, I met Anthony, the love of my life. We’ve been together for five years now and supported each other through good times and bad. This is the lamest, corniest, stupidest thing I will ever say in my life, but he’s the Rainbow Dash to my Fluttershy

...

So what about the finale itself? (spoilers, obviously)

I have... mixed feelings on the finale. There were some things that really annoyed me in there. But also, like I said, I cried, so I think it’s safe to say they did good overall

I think the thing that stuck in my craw the most was Discord. Which I guess shouldn’t be surprising. I’ve been saying for years now how I hate Discord, how he spits in the face of everything the show stands for. He’s an obnoxious elderly manchild who constantly causes problems on purpose and torments his so-called friends the second they stop paying attention to him. But they have to put up with him and give him infinite second chances, because he’s a god and Celestia said they had to reform him

The overarching plot of the final season is that Queen Chrysalis, King Sombra, Tirek, and Cozy Glow (a Darla Dimple-esque filly villain from season 8) had teamed up with Grogar, a “new” villain taken from G1. While this goes on in the background, Twilight is making her preparations to become Celestia’s successor, as we’d known would be her destiny since the day she got wings six years ago. The villain team-up stuff was genuinely fun, and a highlight of the season for me. But then, in the three-part finale, it’s revealed that Grogar was actually Discord in disguise, and that he’d been intentionally trying to orchestrate a big attack on Twilight’s coronation so that she and her friends could save the day and get a big confidence boost going into her reign as princess. This is like... one of the most bafflingly stupid plot twist of all time. It’s literally the end of the show, and Discord has learned nothing. He’s “nice” now, but he’s still intentionally causing huge problems and putting everyone’s lives in danger to solve his problems. He freed four different villains they’d already defeated just so Twilight could beat them again, and in the process they literally blew up the goddamn castle in Canterlot and nearly killed everyone. And yet... they still forgive him, because they have to

I did, however, think that the last two-part adventure episode was fun overall. It tied a nice bow on much of the series, bringing back a bunch of old friends (including cameos from the movie cast!) to band together and save the day. Of course, in the end, they beat the bad guys with a big rainbow laser and sealed them in a statue. You know, even though a previous season finale was all about how solving their problems with a friendship laser and sealing the villains away never worked. Also, Cozy Glow might be evil, but she’s still literally a child? And now her petrified body is on display in the center of Canterlot? What the fuck????

I’m complaining a lot, but again. It was fun overall. It was nice to have one last big adventure, and to have the mane six reflect on how they’d grown since Twilight moved to Ponyville

...

And then we got the actual final episode. And boy did this one hit me HARD

I’m so glad that they ended on a quieter episode about the main cast’s friendships, because that’s what the show is actually about. The two-part adventures to save Equestria every season are fun, but that’s not the real show. We all came back every week for Twilight and her friends

There are things I can complain about here, too. Spike being a buff adult dragon with the voice of a child is fucked up. I’m still not used to seeing Twilight be Celestia’s size. But more than anything, I was always worried that we’d get a Harry Potter ending, where all the characters are paired off into arbitrary marriages so they can all have kids. Thankfully, this didn’t really happen. The only one who had a kid was Pinkie, who apparently got married to Cheese Sandwich (Weird Al’s character) at some point. Like, they literally shared two episodes together, with no hint of romance? But then they got married and had a kid off-screen??? What the fuck???? A lot of people also think that Fluttershy ended up with Discord, and I know I’m massively biased against that ship, but... I mean, they teased the FlutterCord shippers, but there wasn’t really any actual textual evidence that they were any closer than they had been previously. Y’all weirdos who ship Fluttershy with an obnoxious elderly man can interpret that as being “canon” if you want, I guess, but it’s not

The other relationship that shocked everyone in the finale was Applejack and Rainbow Dash, who... appear to be a couple? It’s definitely hinted at. I have... very, very mixed feelings about this. I mean, okay, obivously I’m the big FlutterDash fangirl. But I think AppleDash is cute, too! The problem is that, like... they’ve barely interacted in years? Like, they had a lot of episodes together in the first two seasons, but then the writers barely ever had them interact past that point. I can’t even remember when the last time we got an actual episode focusing on them was. And no, the one where Rainbow takes Granny Smith to pony Vegas doesn’t count

Like... yeah, it’s cute. It’s a nice gesture. Lyra and Bon Bon getting married in the background was also cute. But we can do so, so much better in 2019. We have so many explicitly canon lesbian couples in cartoons. Couples that actually kissed, or got married, or showed feelings for each other. Rainbow and AJ barely even fucking talked to each other in the final few seasons. I dunno, it just feels very hollow to me. Even the Equestria Girls crew admitting they were pushing RariJack felt more substantial to me, because at least they were given on-screen chemistry and lots of canon interaction

But in the end, complaints aside, the finale was about Twilight moving back to Canterlot, and worrying that her friendships would fade because of it. Honestly, I think this is what the finale of the show always would’ve been. It was the perfect story to end on. And boy, it hit really close to home

And then the last song happens, reflecting on how things have changed, but how they’re all still friends. And we see all the other friends they made along the way. And the camera zooms out, and the book from the opening of the very first episode closes, bringing the entire nine-year saga full circle

And then I started sobbing really hard in Anthony’s arms

...

I dunno. I just got done nitpicking a lot, but I still think that the last episode was a good and very emotional ending for the show

I’m going to miss this show dearly. I know it will be back in a new form, and that the leaks indicate that it’ll still star slightly different versions of the Mane Six. I’m also used to shows like this getting rebooted. Hasbro cartoons are honestly lucky to last past three seasons. FiM, on the other hand, got over 200 episodes, a theatrical film, a few specials, some shorts, a bunch of comics (which I still need to read), and a spinoff human AU series that was also really great. There’s no shortage of content, and I’m sure I’ll be returning to the series for years to come. I’m also glad that the show managed to go out on a high note

But still. It was a constant presence in my life for nearly nine years. Even as the quality got really hit or miss, even as they took the premise in strange directions, even as the crew of the show grew more and more dominated by men, it was still a show I could rely on to always be there, 26 episodes a year. I’ll miss it. I hope what comes next is just as good, if not even better. I also hope it’s gayer

I was going to end my ask blog, Fluttershy Replies, around the time the show ended. I’m not sure if I’ll do that just yet. I don’t know. I think that might be a bit much for me to process emotionally. Too many doors closing in my life in quick succession. But I do want to do more with it. These characters will be special to me for the rest of my life

I mean shit, I haven’t even drawn StarTrix yet. I’ve still got a lot of work to do with these horses, folks

[allocate-aloe]

Wtf is wrong with Aloe?

Good question!

i   h a v e   n o   i d e a

I quit my job in September, exactly two years of working there, in order to go to school full time. It was a soul sucking data entry job for USPS, where the managers would hen peck you for being a couple minutes over your “5 minutes”. I was treated like a do-nothing child, constantly. So, I had this insane idea that I would finally get back into my creative headspaces when I got back to University for a Bachelor’s degree in English/Writing, and reconnect with my artwork. In reality, I was dropped into a neo-liberal university filled with kids straight out of high school and a chip on their shoulder. I felt so out of place that I would go sit in my car after class and just cry. I missed drawing, writing, CREATING so much, but after this semester I am just drained and devoid of just about everything.

Since my divorce in 2016-2017, I’ve felt like a completely broken person. My ex-husband tried to forcefully sleep with me the last day I saw him, even though he was living with another woman already behind my back. Then, tragically enough, a week after I found a picture of him /licking her face/ on social media, my trainer at work started to seriously stalk me, feeling up my back and following me everywhere throughout the building. All of this trauma kind of rolled itself into a bullet that just shattered me. I was taking so much xanax to just prevent myself from crying at my desk all day, I was so insanely paranoid (to which has lingered, though not nearly as strong) and after two years I developed a serious dependency.

It took me around 4 months to detox off of xanax, and it was the most painful, confusing, and emotionally taxing experience I never could have imagined. Everything was so incredibly bright and LOUD, my emotions were just.. everywhere. I would hysterically start sobbing, and then go to the gym to try sweating out through the detox. My resting heart rate hovered at 130 beats per minute on average. I would just be sitting there, at my desk or watching tv, and it felt like my heart was going to pound itself out of my ribcage and up through my throat at the same time.

One of the classes I’m enrolled in, is sort of like an internship for publications. There is a national literary magazine run by the students, and part of my Bachelor’s degree is taking this course for a year with the possibility of staying on as a staff member. One of the stories we were critiquing and considering for publication (the staff presents the class with these, I didn’t get to choose this) was a horrifically stereotypical “druggie” girl, where the author just listed a bunch of medications and quite offensively used it to be “edgy” instead of giving anything to the story itself. (complete with attempted suicide, and explaining that they popped 6 “oxys” to deal with the pain of a little name tattoo on the foot. Yeah, it was .. inappropriate to say the least.)

I pointed this out to the class, albeit a bit aggressively as we had just put down our dog two days prior, and instead of agreements or understanding, I had half of the class jump down my throat. Fresh out of high school, bushy tailed individuals who have since then started a feud against me in any other course I have. It is almost non-stop. I have had my own ideas re-explained to me, to the point where an outsider jumped in to defend me. Even one of my own professors, who has watched this discontent between me and one other student, asked me if I was going to be all right in a group with this person. To which I just smiled and said it was fine. Which it is, you won’t get along with everyone in the world, life doesn’t work like that. But it didn’t stop this individual, who shares my name, from suggesting I wear “awful makeup” for a little latin play we will be conducting. When I say “little” I mean a total of 8 lines, entirety. (The professor decided to do this instead of a final exam.)

HOWEVER, it has made my depression very, very bad. The environment is highly contentious, and everyone is afraid to speak for fear of being another target of this gross behavior.

The end of this semester is coming up on the 13th of December, and I am finally feeling some relief from this absolutely chaotic and crushing experience. I plan on dabbling in as much work as I can before all motivation leaves me again next semester. My novel is at a crawl, I have yet to outline the last chapter of LWAL, and I draw maybe once every 6 weeks. That has slowly began to improve as my work load drastically lessens.

I hope that I can provide you guys with some new, clearly wanted content. I miss chatting with you all, making jokes, and just generally being in an environment that is so encouraging and positive. I can say confidently, that being active in my stories, and on tumblr, was one of the most enlightening times of my life so far and I’d like to give back. <3

[ducktracy]

56. bosko’s knight-mare (1933)

release date: june 8th, 1933

series: looney tunes

director: hugh harman

starring: carman maxwell (bosko), rochelle hudson (honey)

i wonder what this cartoon could possibly be about. as the title suggests, bosko dreams that he’s a knight in medieval times, but quickly realizes it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.

this opening is almost exactly like the opening to an itch in time! bosko (elmer) is reading a book by the fire, lounging in his rocking chair, whereas bruno (whatever the dog’s name is in that cartoon) is asleep, waking up to scratch at a flea.

bosko excitedly tells bruno the story he’s reading about knights, but bruno is asleep. undeterred, bosko continues his read until the radio signals that it’s 8pm. he turns the channel and enjoys “knights are bold”, but falls asleep. listening to a song about knights and reading about knights, i wonder where this could possibly go. side note, i guess that’s carman maxwell voicing bosko? it doesn’t sound like johnny murray, and of course rochelle hudson is the only voice credit i’ve found. he sounds a LOT more like mickey mouse here, moreso than usual. pretty interesting, i wonder if he’ll always continue to sound like that? his voice seems to have been fluctuating as of late.

you guessed it. bosko dreams he’s a knight, perched on a gallant horse. he sings a few bars of “knights are bold”, later switching over to “young and healthy”. his faithful companion bruno is right behind him, also iron clad.

bosko approaches a castle, guarded by a moat. he does a yell (very similar to the one the hippo does in lady, play your mandolin!) and the drawbridge drops down for him. a looney tunes staple as various doors open to reveal the inside of the castle—and a trio of squires trumpeting a fanfare. their helmets snap shut in the middle of their blaring noise, and thusly cutting their trumpets in half. great gag of the squires playing on their broken trumpets, the sound tinny and high pitched.

eagerly, bosko and bruno cross the bridge, each doing a little dance. bosko slides out of his suit of armor to the tune of “shave and a haircut”, and barges in on the knights of the round table.

here’s somethint your math teachers and history textbooks don’t teach you: the knights of the round table were actually the marx brothers. huh! who’da thunk it? i love all of the anachronistic elements here—bosko’s jazzy dancing and singing and the inclusion of the marx brothers all in the medieval era. it makes the entire premise a lot funnier. the marx brothers sing, and there’s a great visual of two knights clinking their beer glasses together, the beer rising up in the air and then catching them with the next clink. there’s a great dancing sequence with “42nd street” blazing in the background. i love the overlay of bosko dancing and the knights dancing in the background! the quality of these cartoons has improved drastically, and will continue to do so! apparently, there was also a scene where laurel and hardy are there, too? research tells me it was cut in the 80s on nickelodeon for time, which is a bummer. i wish i could’ve seen it! maybe there’s another rip of it that has it.

in my last review, i joked about how we were overdue for a kidnapping. i spoke too soon. enter the villain, a dastardly knight singing “knights are bold” on his horse. he wants to woo a certain damsel, who happens to be honey. she’s having none of it, pooh-poohing him and griping “i don’t like that old meanie!” old meanie is the last straw for the knight, and he breaks a padlock with his teeth and breaks into her tower.

honey begs for help, and bosko stops his shindig to run to the rescue (along with his suit of armor, which he dives into). there’s a great shot of the villain climbing the stairs of the tower, and tiny little bosko squeezing in beneath his legs and beating him to honey. i have utmost respect for any animator who has to draw stairs—my condolences!

bosko tells the villain “stop, you mug!”, but to no avail. okay, quick ancedote. so i had talked about yesterday how in bosko’s picture show it sounds like he says “that dirty fuck!”, even though his lip movements say “mug”. i guess this solidifies that he really DOES say mug. it’s one of those things where if you think either of the words, you’re going to hear your desired outcome. how disappointing! i can always imagine.

anyway, the villain takes out a cigar and snaps bosko’s helmet shut on the tip, cutting it off. he then flips bosko’s helmet open like a lighter and lights it. that’s so creative and funny! something about cigars makes them inherently funny to me, especially when you have cute characters or babies chuffing on a big fat cigar. they just look funny to me. a higher air of authority than a measly old cigarette. my ability to find humor in everything comes in handy. the villain blows smoke in bosko’s face and puts him aside with ease.

once more does honey cry for help, but it’s too late. the villain snatches her up and jumps out of the window, aiming to land on his horse below. technically he does, but he drags the horse’s ass with him a few feet in the ground. nevertheless, the horse charges on, its now stretched out body carrying the kidnapper and his damsel in distress.

bosko charges after them via donkey, but a lake blocks their path. the donkey bucks him into the water, where his suit of armor turns into a submarine (brilliant!). he follows the villain to his own castle, perched on top of a mountain with a winding, twisting road. the castle, like all things in 30s cartoons, is sentient, using its drawbridge tongue to throw bosko inside. another great, dizzying stair shot of bosko chasing the villain up the stairs to his chamber.

in the safety of his own tower, the villain slams the door shut to keep bosko out. then, of course, bosko pops out from beneath his bed and shoots him! i love unprecedented gags like these. the villain rolls up his sleeve (which is metal—great gag) and socks bosko right in the face, knocking him unconscious. honey begs for him to wake up, caressing his face.

bosko DOES wake up, but to bruno licking his face instead. bosko bats him away and sleepily stumbles down the hallway in a fugue, stopped only by a suit of armor he just so happens to own. not wanting a repeat of his dream, bosko lets his grudge towards knights known as he uses the battle axe the knight is holding to smash it to pieces. iris out as he happily jumps into the comfort of his own bed.

when i first read the title of this cartoon, i didn’t have high hopes. i’m not a big medieval damsel in distress hero swoops in to save her kind of gal, but i’m actually pleasantly surprised! bosko was endearing as ever and the gags were creative and at their best. the animation was beautiful, from all the dancing scenes to chase scenes, and the music score only uplifts it further. i love the anachronisms in this cartoon (such as the marx brothers), it made it funnier and certainly appealed to the lunacy of looney tunes. overall, worth a watch! these bosko cartoons have been getting better and better, and i’ll be interested to see how the remaining few turn out (10 more reviews til our buddy buddy makes an appearance... the countdown begins).

link!

[zombiesbecrazy]

Coffee Between Strangers

Summary: A cup of coffee sits between them and makes Clark question if he's ever really known the man across the desk from him at all.

BatWeek - Reverse Valentine’s - Day 1 Prompt - Philia

AO3

“Cream or sugar for your coffee, Mr. Kent?”

“Just some sugar, if it’s not too much trouble. Thank you.”

It wasn’t every day that Clark found himself in the office of the CEO of Wayne Enterprises and he was uncharacteristically nervous and was fidgeting in his chair without meaning to. It was ridiculous, because he was a professional journalist and interviewed people all the time and it was just Bruce, and not all at the same time, because even though it was just Bruce, it wasn’t.  

Not the Bruce that he knew, anyway.

This wasn’t Batman, the monosyllabic and dry colleague of Superman. Nor was it Bruce Wayne, playboy and philanthropist of Gotham.  This wasn’t even his good friend Bruce, who he considered to be like a brother; the person who he had gone camping with and had played endless games of Monopoly with his kids with.  If anything, this was Mr. Wayne, business mogul, and Perry had arranged this interview and sent Clark to discuss the new Wayne Enterprises partnership with Gordon Clean Energy and their new collaborative projects. Clark had spoken with Barbara earlier that morning and he hadn’t been anywhere as nervous as for that one even though he knew her less well. Barbara, Batgirl, Oracle… they all were at least aspects of the same person.

All of the different layers of Bruce just confused him and made him feel like he was going to trip over all of the woven layers.

The typing at the keyboard halted which lifted Clark from his thoughts as Bruce’s assistant came back with two cups of coffee and set them on the desk.  Bruce thanked her before shifting his attention to some paperwork on the desk and she the exited the room, closing the door behind her.

Clark stared at the cups in front of him for a few moments in silence while Bruce finished up whatever he was working on, an uneasy feeling building in the pit of his stomach. It was like he hadn’t even met the man before. Clark narrowed his eyes at Bruce. There were many things about him that were a mystery, but this was one of those things that Clark knew to his very core and it was off. Something was very, very wrong.

In this moment, the man on the other side of the desk, the one that Clark has known for over a decade, was a complete stranger to him.

“There’s cream in your coffee.”

Bruce shook his head slightly, not looking up from the paperwork. “Milk.” Clark eyed the cup skeptically as it mocked him with its light brown colour.

“I thought you drank your coffee black.”

Bruce sighed, flipped the document that he was reading closed and rubbed his eyes. He looked tired, but then again, Bruce always did if you knew what to look for. “No.”

Gritting his teeth to keep himself from dropping his jaw, Clark used his x-ray vision at the man across the table from him even though he knew that Bruce hated it when he did so. Clark had to take the chance though; this was a safety matter. He needed to be absolutely sure that this was Bruce, despite what his senses already told him. He needed to confirm that this wasn’t a robot or a clone or a shapeshifter who had infiltrated Bruce Wayne’s life and resources.

Bruce could thank him for his diligence later.

But there was nothing out of the ordinary. It looked like Bruce, inside and out. It had the same scars and skeletal structure. It had the same heartbeat. It had to be Bruce.

The cup of cooling coffee between them screamed differently at Clark.

He was an investigative journalist, darn it. He needed to dig deeper. “Can we speak candidly, Mr. Wayne?” The question sounded simple enough to any prying ears, but the underlying implication was clear. Bruce raised an eyebrow slightly at Clark’s words, before reaching up and hitting a button on his watch. Clark’s hearing picked up a slight buzz filling the room and Bruce nodded for Clark to ask his question freely.

“Since when do you take milk in your coffee?”

That was not the question that Bruce had been expecting. “Since I was 16,” he replied slowly.

“I’ve known you for years, can’t even count the amount of times that I’ve drank coffee with you if I tried, and it’s always been black.”

“Oh,” said Bruce, small smile lifting the corners of his lips. He cleared his throat quickly and the beginnings of the smile disappeared. “Batman drinks his coffee black. I take milk in mine.”

Clark opened his mouth to argue and found that he couldn’t. He had spent a lot of time in the manor and had gone out for food plenty of times with Bruce, but looking back on it he couldn’t think of a time that he had ever seen him drink coffee as Bruce; he drank a lot of tea and water and the occasional alcoholic drink but Clark was drawing a blank on coffee. Yes, they had coffee in the Cave and the Watchtower and the Fortress but… how had he never noticed this? It had always been as Batman, not Bruce. Upon realization that this wasn’t something that he could debate because the evidence just didn’t hold up, he just laughed nervously while Bruce studied him from across the table. “Wow. You really take this secret identity thing to a whole other level, don’t you?”

“It takes more than a pair of glasses and a hair curl to fool the world, Clark.”

Clark shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “That isn’t my experience.” Not a day went by when Clark didn’t question how no one had linked him to Superman, but he was glad that the casual observer didn’t notice. Kids tended to recognize him, but they only ever smiled and maybe giggled if he winked at them, acknowledging the secret between them.

“Then how do you explain Clark Kent’s clumsiness? Or the sudden loss of Kansas accent when you are in the suit? You put on the same act as I do.”

“It’s not entirely an act. I’m clumsy as Superman too.”

“Rarely.”

“No, all the time. I just use my flight to cover it.”

To an outsider, it would look that Bruce didn’t react, but Clark knew better. He was the twitch near Bruce’s right eye and the way that his jaw clenched ever so slightly. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s harder to trip over your own feet if you are always slightly floating.” Clark tried to appear nonchalant, but knew that he failed miserably.

“Now I know you are joking.”

“Of course I am.” Clark chucked and tapped his fingers against his cup. “Sure, I play a bit of a role, but I apparently don’t go as far as you and change my coffee order.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Do you even like black coffee?”

“I’m not opposed to it.”

“That doesn’t mean you like it.” Bruce just stared blankly at him for a few moments before he raised his hand to his watch to deactivate the disrupter when Clark sat up straighter as his brain caught up to the words, causing Bruce to halt the motion in midair. “Wait, ‘it’s nothing’ as in you don’t really see the problem or ‘it’s nothing’ as in you’ve changed more drastic details about yourself as part of your cover? Things that you are the only one who would probably ever notice?”

“Both.”

Of course he had. “Geez, Bruce,” groaned Clark, because this man was impossible. “Like what?” Bruce remained impassive and Clark had to stop himself from reaching over the table to give him a shake. “Don’t look at me like that. These are things I should probably know so I don’t accidentally blow your cover because I don’t know how deep you’ve gone down the hole of changing your identity.”

“There is nothing that big…” Bruce trailed off and realization slowly dawned on his face. “There is one thing that could be compromising if you slipped up. Or you should know in case of emergency and you need to make a decision for me. Batman is right handed.”

“You’re left handed?” Clark looked at the desk between them and realizes that there are several pens on Bruce’s desk and they are all on the left hand side. “How have I never noticed that? It’s like you’re suddenly Inigo Montoya.”

“Or the Dread Pirate Roberts,” agreed Bruce with a nod. “I’m ambidextrous but left hand dominant. If anything ever arise that one of my hands needs to be amputated, make a note that I’d rather keep my left one if given the choice.” Bruce took another sip of that befuddling cup of coffee as if he hadn’t just dropped that casually into conversation as if he was telling Clark that he liked green grapes more than purple ones. “That is a pretty big thing to miss for an investigative journalist.”

How could you argue that with someone who did their best to be an enigma? “You are a strange and paranoid man.”

“That is not a recent development.”

“Just a statement of fact.” Clark shook his head and looked Bruce over again. He may have used the x-ray vision again, just to make sure. Still Bruce.

“You’re staring.”

“Because it’s like you are an entirely new person. I don’t know you at all. I’m a little dumbstruck.”

“You know me better than nearly everyone. Less than Alfred. Maybe more than Dick.”

“And yet I didn’t know you were left handed or how you like your coffee. After all these years.” Clark put his now empty cup back on the desk and leaned forward on it. “What else are you hiding? Just hit me with it all now. I’m jumping in the deep end.”

“I was in an improv comedy troupe.”

“Bull.”

“For six months as part of my training to learn how to be adaptable to any situation.”

“But you aren’t funny.”

“That’s subjective.” Bruce almost sounded hurt. “I was better at the dry, dark humour, not knock-knock jokes.”

“Of course you were.” In reality, Clark actually did think that Bruce had a wicked sense of humour, but the thought of him in a group of people, performing for laughs just couldn’t compute.

“All of this is off the record, by the way.”

Clark shook his head and waved his notepad and pen. “You have to say that at the beginning of the statement for it to count when it is a prearranged interview. I can see my next byline now. ‘Batman is Secretly Left Handed’. It’s going to be my big break, just you wait. I’m going put my Pulitzer in the Fortress, next to Candor.” Bruce sat back in his chair and glared at Clark, which just made him snicker. That look was at least one he recognized and saw frequently. The familiarity of Bruce’s annoyance felt good. “No one cares, Bruce.”

“Now who’s not being funny?”

“Lois thinks I’m funny.”

“She’s laughing at you, not with you.”

“Ouch. I better use my freeze breath to look after that burn.”

“Don’t get any ice on my desk.” Clark grinned and stared up at the ceiling as he rolled his eyes. That was the type of Bruce humour that made sense. “You are the most frustrating billionaire I’ve spoken to this week.”

“I’m more frustrating than Luthor?”

“I’ve haven’t spoken to him this week.”

“I saw you punch him yesterday.”

“Gee, I don’t know what you are talking about, Mr. Wayne.” Clark adjusted his glasses carefully and shifted awkwardly in his seat, slipping into his regular role. “I did see that Mr. Luthor and Superman had an altercation recently while I was watching the news this morning but I, shy and unassuming Daily Planet reporter Clark Kent, haven’t spoken to him in months. Even if I did, at least I know how he takes his coffee. Lex likes mochas.”

“Seriously, Clark?”

“And you tried to say I wasn’t funny.” Clark thought back to the beginning of the conversation and remember something that Bruce had said about him. “You do the accent thing, too. That isn’t just me.”

“Voice modulation doesn’t count as an accent.”

“No, I mean…” Now it was Clark’s turn to trail off, because no. He had to know, right? Bruce’s expression was curious. Oh, he didn’t know. How could he not know? “You don’t realize you have an accent?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You speak differently depending on where you are, out of the cowl. I don’t mean the context, either. I mean your accent.” Bruce’s expression didn’t change, and Clark had to explain himself if this was going to make any sort of sense. “When you are being Bruce Wayne, like right now, you sound very posh, but generically North Eastern United States. Same when you are out of costume with the League.”

“Yes, that is how I speak, Clark. Because that is my voice.” said Bruce slowly, in exactly the accent that Clark had described.

“Nope. You speak differently at home.” Bruce’s eye twitched microscopically again. “It also comes out when you are injured or overtired but you have to be pretty out of it for it to slip through. I think only Diana and I have heard it outside your family.”

“I don’t.”

“You do. You sound…” Clark paused to think of the right way to phrase it. “Well, you sound a little British if I’m going to be honest. Inflexion. Tone. Lilt. Word choice. Mostly word choice.” He grinned the more that he thought about the first example that came to his mind. “Do you know that the first time I stayed overnight at the manor I couldn’t find my guest room because you told me it was on the second floor?”

“Your guest room is on the second floor.”

“No, it’s on the third. We’re in America, Bruce. Ground floor, second floor, third floor.” The grin on Clark’s face broke into a full smile as he started to chuckle. “Dick laughed at me for a solid twenty minutes when I had to ask for help when he found me wandering around hopelessly. He still laughs about it sometimes.”

“I suppose I can see that. I was mostly raised by Alfred. It must have rubbed off on me.”

“You also use biscuits for cookies and crisps for chips. Alfred is definitely to blame.” Clark was still chuckling to himself, but as he watched Bruce, Clark could almost see him forming plans to break the habits that he just mentioned because he was now aware of them. “Don’t start acting self-conscious about it now. I can see your brain over thinking. It isn’t something that you need to change to protect your cover.”

“But…”

“No.” Clark shook his head firmly. “It’s a Bruce thing. The real you. Not one of your masks. You shouldn’t have to hide who you are at home. Not from your family and not from me. Do you understand?”

“I…” Clark glared at him and Bruce cut himself off. “Yes, Clark,” he grumbled. “I hate it when you do that. Give me a Superman pep talk. Even a short one.”

“Excuse you. That was a Clark Kent pep talk. The Kansas accent was intact.” Bruce snorted and Clark beamed back. “And speaking of Clark Kent, he really needs to get a quote from you about this new green partnership agreement with GCE so that he can continue to get a paycheck from the Planet and pay for groceries.” He pulled out his phone to record and Bruce nodded and tapped his watch again, buzz of the disrupter disappearing.

They were back on the record.

As soon as he did, Clark could practically see the shield of Bruce Wayne, businessman, come back onto the face of the man across from him, but maybe he was able to see a version of his friend, his brother, a little better through it than he could before.

Maybe they both knew each other a little better now, even if it was something small like this.

And the next time Superman brought Batman a coffee, maybe he’d pass it to his left and add a little milk and make sure that the lid was secure so that no one could make the connection.

[lyrical-obsessions]

Step in time with me (Futakuchi x Reader)

Golden week training camp was supposed to be a time of dedication, improvement, and some fun. It was a time to bring in the new and build again. It was a time for youth to blossom and discover and hone new skills. A time for teams to bond and create a cohesive flow when they play. 

And then when there was the all too famous dares and antics that the boys would get up to after the training was done for the day. This training camp was no exception. Boys gathered in a circle in a room full of futons and blankets as they began to brainstorm ideas to torment each other. A skittish boy with messy black hair looked on as his team began to think of ways to scare the crap out of each other. The black-haired boy grimaced at the team he was now the captain of, they were a handful. 

A large boy with sandy brown hair and brown sideburns began to smile widely at one of the younger volleyball players. He had the perfect scheme to finally put one of his troublesome juniors in his place. 

“Futakuchi! I dare you to go get an old dance thing from that haunted studio!” He prodded his brown-haired underclassman. Futakuchi gave the boy a sassy smile. The team’s skittish captain raised his hands slightly to try and deescalate the situation.

“Guys, please, we have to rest!” 

“And what if I don’t, Kamasaki?” Futakuchi ignored his upperclassman and blatantly disrespected his challenger. Kamasaki’s eye twitched slightly, but he quickly came back with an answer.

“Oh I get it, you’re just a chicken. Scared of an old building” Kamasaki smiled at Futakuchi’s upset face.

“I’m not scared!” Futakuchi bit back. 

“Guys- Aone help me out here!” Moniwa called to the other middle blocker but found that he was already asleep. 

“Prove it!” another first-year called. 

Of course he had to prove he wasn’t scared. He wasn’t going to let his teammates have that over him, not in a million years. 

Futakuchi arrives at the old studio, and the subtle sound of music could be heard from within. His heart began to race as he inspected the studio’s exterior. It looks to be one of the older buildings on campus, and it’s age unfortunately showed. The steps to the front of it were chipped and worn, and probably used to be a well used studio space. 

Futakuchi had until the end of the training camp to find something unique to bring back to his team. He was determined to find the most dazzling treasure in the old building to outdo his senior’s test of courage. Kamasaki had stayed a whole hour in a bathroom stall in the middle of the night with all the lights turned off. He remembered seeing how red and swollen the middle blocker’s eyes were from crying. He refused to cry during his test of courage. 

The sound of music begins to seep through the cracks of the building again. Futakuchi flinches as he listens to the eerie tune. Why did it have to start playing now?! He took a deep breath and gently pushed the door open. 

Once inside, he looked around for anything that would be a proper prize to bring back to his team. The space was dusty and had boxes strewn about. The front desk had papers messily stacked next to an old outdated computer, and the lights were dim. He made his way further into the space as he kept a vigilant lookout for his prize. He was hoping for dancing shoes or something of the like. As he made his way further inside, the music became louder. It sounded like ballroom music that he would hear in movies. It was rhythmic and soothing almost. Then he heard it, shuffling against the floor like something was being dragged. Futakuchi jumped slightly as he turned to see if the noise was coming from behind him. 

Nothing. 

He then hesitantly continued forward, and subconsciously followed the music. He rounded a corner in the building to see a light. It was the studio lights turned on all the way, and the music was also coming from the same room. Futakuchi swallowed his fear and quickly turned the corner to see what was there. 

Nothing. 

Futakuchi blinked. Was there really nothing here? That’s impossible. How would music be playing? How would the lights be on? Why would there be the sound of dragging? Futakuchi began to shiver at the thought of the rumors being true. What if this old studio was haunted? He was right in the middle of it. 

“Excuse me.” A small voice called to him, and he nearly jumped 3 feet out of his skin as he screamed. He whips around to see her. (H/C) hair with (E/C) eyes, flawless complexion. Her feet were bare, spare some bandages she had wrapped on them. “Can I help you?” 

“Y-you’re not a ghost, are you?” Futakuchi asks the girl nervously. She furrowed her brow and tilted her head. 

“No? Were you looking for one?” 

“Uhh…” He looks down quickly while the girl walked closer to him. The closer she got, the more he could see. Her high waisted shorts came up just enough to cover the skin that her loose crop top would not. 

“What are you doing here?” the mysterious girl suddenly asks again. “This is an old dance studio. Did you get lost?” her face contorted to question the boy before her. 

“Dance…” He took a while to process what she said, her eyes were large and intense. Futakuchi then looked around before realizing what she meant. 

“Did you come here to dance?” She questioned him again, and he immediately raised his hands in denial. 

“What? Oh! No! I-” 

“Well, whatever. I’m practicing right now. You can do whatever you want okay? Just try not to get in my way.” Futakuchi nods as he backs up slightly. He realized he didn’t even know this girl’s name. He watches her as she kicks a cd player, allowing a certain melody pour from its speakers. Futakuchi didn’t know what to do. The more he looked at her, the more attracted he was. 

When she started to dance, however, he was gone. He became enthralled by her. Obsessed. Her dancing was elegant and passionate. “Hey,” She catches his attention, “Why are you here? Usually, no one wants to be here.” the girl moves her body in a hypnotizing fashion “did someone dare you?” 

“You caught me. Someone did dare me.” Futakuchi admits to her. A sassy smile soon lines his face. She grunts and bends backward. 

“Ah, are you here for a certain amount of time or do you need proof that you were in here?” 

“I need proof.” Futakuchi crossed his arms as he continued to watch the girl. He didn’t expect her to be this chatty. “I have a few days to find something nice and flashy,” His tone was becoming more confident. 

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal,” She lifts herself up and walks over to him. “I’ll give you the perfect thing to bring back, IF” 

“If?” Futakuchi tilts his head and narrows her eyes. She places a hand on his shoulder and draws him in closer, causing his expression to change drastically to one of shock. 

“Be my dancing partner for a few days, I’ll teach you the basics. I just need someone to be my partner.” she smiles gently at him as his face becomes slightly red. “I can dance by myself, but having a partner, no matter how inexperienced, is better than nothing.” Futakuchi smiles slightly 

“Can I get the name of my partner first?” She blushes slightly. He’s accepting? 

“It’s (L/name) (Name),” she replies as she guides his hands. “And you?” 

“Futakuchi Kenji. Nice to meet you (L/Name).” He smiles. 

“You ready? Put your hand here and here…” She adjusted his hands so that one was on her waist and the other was enveloping her hand. She placed her spare hand on his arm. “Okay, so since you’re a beginner, just try not to step on my feet for now.” She gave him a sassy smile, which he gladly returned, even if he was nervous. 

At first, he was god awful. He was nothing compared to her. She could dance for both of them, but he did his best not to step on her feet. 

“Don’t worry about being bad by the way. I know you’re awful.” She tells him. He grimaces at her.

He then accidentally stepped on her foot. She took it like a champ however and waited patiently for him to get his bearings again. Whatever dancing he was attempting to do was harder than it looked. “So… what kind of dancing is this?” 

“Ballroom dancing. I hope to enter a competition soon, but partners to practice with are hard to come by” She then smirks at him. “Why, you interested?” 

“No, just curious.” 

“Mm, too bad, you’d make a beautiful partner.” Was she flirting with him? He blushed slightly, but he tried to conceal it to appear cooler. He utterly failed when he stepped on her foot again. 

Her intimate proximity was slightly intoxicating, but she seemed unfazed by his closeness. He was clumsy while she was graceful, even if she did her best to teach him. 

By the end of the night, he had somewhat stopped stepping on her feet. Futakuchi began to feel a longing as soon as her body left their shared space. 

“You didn’t do too terribly. You didn’t fall over at least.” (L/Name) smiled. 

“Glad to know that’s your baseline for good dancing” He joked “So what are you going to give me as proof of being here?” Futakuchi asked. (L/Name) laughed. 

“That wasn’t our agreement if you remember!” (L/name) cocked her head and smiled “Our agreement was that I would give you something to bring back after you danced with me for a few days. Come back tomorrow, we’ll pick up from there.” (L/name) then began to walk out of the studio. Futakuchi sighs as he watches her leave. This wasn’t the plan at all…

The next day Futakuchi arrives at the old studio. Kamasaki had given him crap about not having anything the day before, but he was finally able to convince the sandy-haired middle blocker that he would have something in a few days. He spotted (L/Name) doing some warm-ups, and her fluid motions ensnared him and his heartbeat. He watched for a little while before she moves her gaze to him. 

“Enjoying yourself?” (L/Name) teases. Futakuchi gives the girl a smile 

“Are you? I’m just following your lead you know.” (L/Name) reaches her hands out to him and beckons him to come closer. As he approaches, she kicks a cd player for it to release tunes. Futakuchi takes a deep breath as he envelops her hand and rests his other hand on her waist. “Like this right?” 

“Yup! You’re doing pretty okay for a beginner,” She smirks “Your grip on my waist is hesitant thought. You could grip a little tighter, I don’t want you to drop me.” 

“Drop you?” Futakuchi questions as he examines (L/name)’s mischievous face.

“I’m easing you into the move sets. I’m going to lean myself back at parts. Can you handle it?” 

“I think? I’ll try not to drop you.” 

“You owe me if you drop me.” (L/Name) then leans back into his hand, and grips his shoulder. He immediately knew if he dropped her, he’d be going down with her. As she got into position, a look of bliss crossed her face as she closed her eyes. Futakuchi couldn’t help but stare. 

He stepped on her feet less this time. They had some idle chat while they moved. 

“So you hope to enter a competition?” Futakuchi begins as he steps to the side with her. She hums in affirmation. 

“My partner lives far away, but we meet in the middle for competitions.” She leans herself back while Futakuchi supports her. 

“Does your partner practice with someone else too?” Futakuchi questioned as he helped (L/Name) back up into her upright position. She nodded once she was face to face with him again. 

“How else are we supposed to win competitions if they don’t practice as well?” She gave him a smile. He owlishly stared for a little, but then shot back the same level of confidence in his smile. “Although, their partner is loads more skilled than you are, so we’ll see how dancing with you affects our sync.” Futakuchi grimaces while (L/Name) laughs, but she stops laughing when he steps on her foot again by accident. 

Futakuchi found himself rushing to the old dance studio the next day. His heart was racing slightly. As soon as he spotted (L/name) in her athletic wear, he couldn't deny that he had a crush. Some of the crush was only skin deep, she was gorgeous after all, but her sassy attitude mixed with her honesty and grace was also the cause of the crush. She was also surprisingly perceptive. 

“Ah! There you are Futakuchi, I’m gonna make a request of you today.” She then turns with a smile on her face “How well can you balance on your toes?” He gives her a confused look as he slowly tilts his head at her. 

“I can balance alright, why?” 

“I want you to do what you’ve been doing, just keep on your toes. Not like on the tip of them, but like the balls of your feet.” she approaches him “You’ll get the hang of it,” 

“Why didn’t you have me try that from the start?” he questions as he takes her hand in his and steadies her waist. 

“Because stepping on my feet when you’re on your toes hurts more than a flat foot.” She retorts and kicks the CD player. Futakuchi smiles and sighs. He lifts himself up slightly on his toes, gently attempting to balance himself, they begin to sway. 

He did his best to keep on his toes, but Futakuchi found himself flat-footed at times. (L/name) was also dipping more. He attempted to keep them both balanced, but eventually, Futakuchi let (L/Name) dip too far, causing him to lose that balance he worked hard to maintain. He inhaled sharply as he quickly moved (L/Name) so that it was his back that hit the floor before she landed on him. With a loud thud, Futakuchi had hit the ground, but at least (L/Name) seemed fine as she lay on top of him. 

“Ugh…” He groaned. (L/name) stared at him with a confused look. She didn’t move from her position on top of him as he lay on the ground. She was confused. “You okay?” He looks up towards her and sees her expression. “What?” 

“You took the fall for me? Most people would just drop me and save their balance.” (L/name) responds as she lifts herself up and straddled him. He shrugs but then smiles. 

“I didn’t want to drop you.” This elicits a blush from (L/Name) “So, you just gonna sit and stare? I could stay like this for a while.” he says in a casual tone. Was he flirting with her?! She jumps off of him as she looks away with a red face. 

“Let’s continue.” (L/Name) blushed as she held out her hand. She refused to look at him. Futakuchi lets out a small sigh as he grabs her hand and waist. (L/Name) did her best to soothe her emotions. She usually never had problems with dancing with boys and staying in close proximity to them for extended periods of time, but Futakuchi was starting to be different. Maybe because he isn’t a dancer initially? Or maybe something else. (L/Name) takes a deep breath before facing him. He happily looked her in the eyes again.  

She finally decided that today was the day that Futakuchi earned his prize. He had been doing well with all that she had taught her, but she had a competition coming up soon, so she wouldn’t be able to practice with him anymore. She hadn’t told him yet of the soon-to-be drastic change, but he would know soon enough. 

“And done,” (Name) separated herself from Futakuchi, who quickly flopped down onto a seat that (Name) had set up in the old studio. She crossed her arms as she observed the volleyball player. “You know, for someone as athletic as you are, I would figure that dancing wouldn’t be too harsh on your body,” Futakuchi gave a slight, playful glare. 

“Being on your toes at all times is a bit more difficult than running after a ball that’s been launched into the air.” He retorted and watched as (Name) made her way to an old shelf. He watched her carefully bring down an ornate box. “What’s that?” He asked as she slid a ridge of the box upward, revealing a key. She then slid the bottom of the box back and revealed a keyhole. After unlocking the box, she opened it up and revealed a velvety interior. In the middle of the puzzle box was a smaller box. This one was made of metal and had a turn-key. (Name) removed the small box and carefully began to wind it as she approached Futakuchi. His body ran cold as she got closer. 

“This music box was a possession of my grandmother. She met my grandfather in this very studio. It’s why I dance here so much, even though it’s gotten so old and dilapidated.” She released the key as the box opened and played a familiar tune. The two figures in the center of the now open box began to slowly spin and sway. “This music box was a gift from my grandfather to my grandmother, and then was eventually passed down to my mother. It was given to me as a gift after my first ballroom dancing competition.” she smiles as Futakuchi shoots up and looks her over. He was clearly confused as to why he was hearing all this, but at the same time he knew why. This was his last day of dancing with her. 

“Wait, (Name), this sounds really important. Are you giving this to me?” (Name) gave a smirk before slowly closing the music box. 

“You needed something, right? Will this work?” she takes one of the hands that had held hers many times before and carefully places the red and gold box. “I think it’s pretty good proof that you were here.” She gently closed his fingers around the small ornament and smiled “You earned it.” 

“I…” He carefully examined the box before looking up at (Name). She was gathering her things and placing it into a duffel bag. 

“You should get going. It’s late. I have to travel tomorrow for a competition.” Her tone was cold. She was emotionally distancing herself as far as she could. “Goodnight, Futakuchi.” (Name) couldn’t bear to say goodbye, so she settled for that and walked out into the night. 

“Whoa! That thing looks like an antique!” Kamasaki remarks as he reaches out for it. Futakuchi immediately swiped it away from him and held it closer to him. 

“Don’t. Touch. It.” He cradled it gently in his hands as he observed the ornate porcelain. His face was more sullen than usual and lacked the sassy spark. Moniwa gave Futakuchi a curious gaze but left it at that. The boy had ended his daily visits as the camp finished up, but he begged for time to stop even for just a little. 

A gentle melody barely soothed the aching heart that he soon found himself with. The thoughts of the dancer filled his head as he stared at the ceiling in his bed. It had been a week since he last saw her. Every night since then he wound the box until it gave him a bit of resistance and let it play for him. The dancers in the center of the box would slowly turn until the music faded. If he was still awake he would wind the box once more and let it play. He would repeat this process until he fell asleep. 

(Name) was now all he could think about when his head was empty. The music box became a piece of her instead of a trophy. The song that it played was a retelling of their nights, and the dancers a mirror image of them. He now understood why her grandfather would gift such an ornate vessel. It had a knack for mimicking the feeling of falling in love. 

Love? Was that what this was? 

That night he shot up in bed and snatched his phone off the charger next to him. He began desperately searching for dance competitions that she could possibly be a part of. 

“Come on, come on, ballroom dancing…” His eyes lit up as he got a hit. He discovered that a big competition was being held in Tokyo. His heart began to race as he thought of the possibility of him visiting her. He soon began planning his trip and only got a few hours of sleep that night. 

Tokyo was slightly bigger than Futakuchi had thought. He had difficulty navigating the labyrinth of railways at first, but he soon found the other end of the red string tied around his pinkie. The building was large, and many people in elaborate dress and makeup surrounded the building. He made his way inside, but carefully inspected each face of the competitors. He was desperately searching for her. 

Finally, he caught a glimpse of her. Her laugh leads him to her, but as he was about to call out to her, his heart sank. Around the small of her back was another man’s hand. She was laughing at something he had said. His eyes became distant as he watched you both walk into the auditorium where you were to compete. The sound of the little music box played in the back of his head as he headed towards the stands with his shattered heart. 

He had come this far, he might as well watch. Even if it hurts. 

She was gorgeous on the dance floor, and her partner matched every one of her moves. She was clearly in pure bliss as she danced. Futakuchi fell further in love as she moved, but the hot fires stung at the freshly broken heart. 

Once the competition was over, Futakuchi stayed to watch the awards ceremony. (Name) ended up getting second with her partner, and he was proud of her. He was proud that her skills shone through to the judges, but he couldn’t watch her celebrate with her partner. Not when they seemed so close. 

As he was leaving, (Name) spots him in the crowd. At first, she thought she was hallucinating, but she then realized it was him. 

“He came…” she whispers, only loud enough for her partner to hear. Her eyes never left him, but she noticed that Futakuchi was leaving. She began to panic, she didn’t want to leave her partner so suddenly, but she needed to catch him. 

She then felt a nudge from her left. She whipped her gaze up to her dancing partner, who gave her a wink. 

“Go get ‘em, tiger. That’s the guy you were talking about, right? It’s written ALL over your face.” he encouraged, causing (Name) to fluster. “He’s cute. If you don’t shoot your shot, I will.” (Name) then smiles and gives him a quick punch to his arm before dashing out, confusing the judges, but her faithful and flamboyant partner covered for her. 

As Futakuchi was just outside the premises, he hears the noise of quick-paced heels behind him. He turned his head slightly but was surprised at the sight. 

“Futakuchi! Wait!” (Name) cried out to him, and he couldn’t help but obediently pause for her. 

“(L/Name)? Shouldn’t you be inside celebrating with your partner?” He asked in a somewhat dejected tone, but before she can answer the question properly, she throws her arms around him. His balance was compromised, but he quickly brought it back with a technique he used while practicing with (Name). His eyes were wide as (Name) gripped him tightly. He couldn’t stop himself from returning the embrace. She was warm from movement, and her dress hugged her just right. He was infatuated and enthralled by her. 

“You came,” She says softly. “I didn’t expect you to actually come,” Futakuchi blushes and looks away. 

“It wasn’t easy you know, you never told me where your competition was.” (Name) laughed slightly

“And yet like a stalker you found me.” She peered up at him with her big (E/C) eyes. She felt her heart race, but Futakuchi’s eyes were not as full of joy. 

“Yeah, sorry about that, I can leave you with your partner now if you want. I bet he has some big date planned for you two.” (Name) tilted her head as she gave him a dumbfounded look. 

“What do you mean? Sure we’d celebrate but he’d never take me out on a date.” (Name) bravely brought the tall man closer to her. Futakuchi was too busy trying to figure out how any man would be able to resist her. 

“Wait, what? But you’re gorgeous! You’re sassy, funny, elegant-” He listed off absentmindedly, causing red to brush (Name)’s cheeks. she began to understand why he was acting so weirdly. 

“Because my partner, Ryusei, would be rather bad at being gay if he took a woman on a date.” 

Futakuchi’s mind went blank. It almost made too much sense for a man who is in ballroom dancing to not be straight, but it never crossed his mind when they both were that close. His face of realization made (Name) burst out into a hearty laugh. Futakuchi shook off his shock before refocusing. Here was this gorgeous woman in his arms, a woman he knew he had to take a chance on. 

“So, no one’s taking you out after this?” his cocky nature sparked back to life with the new revelation. His face made its way closer to hers. 

“Nope, I’m free.” she slowly tilted her head upwards, “Why, got something in mind?” 

“I might, I got to know the city pretty well while trying to find my way here.” (Name) let out a low chuckle, causing a hum to vibrate her painted lips. Futakuchi took the leap, pressing a kiss onto her lips. (Name) was quick to return the affection. 

In the back of their minds, the tune from the music box played a gentle melody. It welcomed another set of lovers to the world, brought together from that little dance studio on the edge of town.

[imagine-loki]

Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite)

TITLE: Soulbonds and Fairy Dust (rewrite) CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 6/?

AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine one of the fae has been helping the Avengers, jumping in to help them on missions and vanishing before Shield can bring her in.  Loki joins the team and convinces her to come talk to the team and consider joining before Shield takes more drastic measures. RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS:  This is a rewrite of the original work of the same name.  Also on AO3 here

Sigyn couldn’t help jumping with Jarvis announced that dinner was ready.  She glared up in the direction that the voice seemed to be coming from while Loki chuckled at her discomfort. “I am not much of a fan of the computer myself. Primitive technology,” he scoffed.

She raised an eyebrow at him.  That didn’t sound like Loki at all.  “You haven’t upgraded it yet?” she asked as she stood from her bed.  Dinner sounded like an excellent idea, but the mystery was more interesting at the moment.  She had also come up with at least three different upgrades to do on the stupid primitive technology without even seeing it. She knew Loki was equally as smart, so why hadn’t he done the same?

Loki shook his head, clearly grumbling and annoyed.  “Stark is very protective of his technology. I tried upgrading it when I first arrived, but Stark seemed to be prepared for that and has banned me from his lab,” Loki whined. He wanted to help and he wanted to improve the primitive technology.

She giggled and gave him a mischievous smirk.  “Maybe I’ll do it instead,“

He returned her smirk and it felt like old times.  “Be my guest,”

“We should probably get to dinner before Hammer-brain eats everything,” she reminded Loki. Her magic shimmered purple around her for a moment and she was soon in a forest green floor-length gown with a golden belt that looked gorgeous with her coloring.  Loki gave her a look she couldn’t quite identify.  “What? Do people not dress for dinner around here or something?” she asked at his expression.  It seemed almost longing?  Delighted?  Impressed by her looks maybe?

“Not usually. People are much more casual nowadays.  Well, at least on Midgard. Asgard still has their feasts every evening,” he clarified, imagining her at home, back in the clothes and culture she belonged in.  The image was distorted as he tried to reconcile the woman in front of him with the girl he’d known. 

She sighed, missing the court dinners she was used to and let her clothes shimmer back to the baggy second-hand clothes she’d been wearing earlier. "Shall we, then?” she asked him softly and started to leave her room to head back to the main floor where she assumed dinner was served. 

Loki held out his arm for her to take.  “Will you allow me to escort you to dinner, old friend?” He asked with a kind smile.  He was so relieved to have her back in his life after so long. He didn’t want to do anything that might ruin it.

She smiled and took his arm, placing her hand lightly on his sleeve and gave him a warm gentle caring look.  “The honor is mine, prince,” she replied just as kindly. It seemed so comfortable with Loki and she was finally starting to feel like this could be home. 

Until she stepped out of her room.  “Brother! You cannot monopolize the affections of our old friend!” Thor boomed in his usual jovial way.  Sig’s hand tightened on Loki’s arm and she sidled closer automatically. She was getting comfortable with Loki, but she was still shy and skittish around the others and Thor surprised her with how loud he was.

Loki glared at his brother. “Quiet, you oaf. You don’t need to yell when I’m standing right here,” he grumbled and rolled his eyes at his idiot brother.

Thor ignored Loki’s glare as per usual.  “My point remains that you cannot monopolize our Lady Sigyn’s affections,” he said and took her free hand to kiss her knuckles.

Sigyn saw Loki’s glare harden and he tensed up at Thor’s teasing.  She squeezed Loki’s arm reassuringly and huffed in annoyance at Thor.  “Can’t you stop antagonizing your brother for five minutes, hammer-brain?” she asked, rolling her eyes.  He huffed at the nickname.  "Healing stab wounds is such a pain,” she whined at Loki, easing his tension with her joking and teasing.  Just like old times indeed.

Loki chuckled.  “Very true,” he agreed, the threat to his brother clear. He would stab Thor if he remained annoying.

“Some things have not changed it seems,” Thor told Sig warmly and walked down to dinner with them.  The rest of the team was already sitting around the dining room table and Sig’s hand tightened on Loki’s arm again, shy and skittish of all the people.

Loki shifted his position slightly, drawing her closer reassuringly. /I’m right by your side, Little Sigyn. You’re safe/ he reminded her telepathically.

/They don’t like you either/ she reminded him as Loki pulled out her chair for her and seated her at the table.  She smiled at him, acknowledging his courtesy with a nod of thanks.

The team went around the table giving introductions.  When they were finished, they looked at her expectantly.  She hesitated and thought over what to tell them, unsure how far to trust these people.  Just because Thor liked them didn’t mean anything.  Thor liked everyone.  Finally, she settled on the truth.  “I’m Sigyn, lady of Asgard and lady of the seelie court of the fae,” she told them softly.  They all seemed surprised to learn she was of Asgard and Thor told them how he and Loki knew she as children before the fae stole her.

/Darling, are you there?/ Frigga asked her son while they were all eating dinner.

His eyes unfocused as he concentrated on answering her. /I’m here, Mother. Is something wrong?/ Frigga didn’t usually contact him across the realms.

/I’ve been trying to find Sigyn’s family…/ she started, sorrow in her tone. Loki dreaded the information but waited for her to continue patiently.  /Her father died in the battle on Alfheim shortly after Sigyn went missing.  Freya… Freya died of the heartbreak of losing her daughter and husband in such a short period of time.  I’m sorry, darling, but we’re the closest thing to family she has left…/ Frigga was clearly upset at the news and at having to tell Loki.  Especially from so far away.

Loki’s eyebrows furrowed as he thought over what she said, his heart breaking for Sigyn and knowing he would have to tell her before she returned to Asgard. /What does this mean for her?/

/What do she mean, darling?/

/I mean, does this make her a princess of Asgard? Should we return home? What does the Allfather think?/

/No, she is not a princess. I simply meant that we are probably the only ones she has a chance to remember as her parents are lost to us and she was their firstborn.  She retains her title as a duchess. There is no need for her to return home until she is ready to do so/ she paused, wondering why her son was always so suspicious of his father.  /Your father is grateful she has finally been found, of course, and would like to see her when she is up to coming here/  she paused for a long minute before she asked.  /By the way, darling, is her hair an unnatural red color now?/

Loki’s expression hardened even more at that question. /It is. Why?/ he demanded, instantly jumping to try to protect Sig, though he didn’t know from what or why.  That was a strange question from Frigga, though and it had him on edge.

/That simply explains a vision I had many, many centuries ago is all/ she explained, and her tone made it clear that she wasn’t going to tell him more. 

His curiosity could be felt through the link, but he was smart enough not to pry into things Frigga wasn’t prepared to tell him.  She knew he was curious, but she equally wasn’t going to give him more of an answer right now.  Some visions would not come true if the subjects knew about the vision. /Alright. I will be sure to let her know that she is welcome to return to Asgard whenever she wishes. What should I tell her about her family?/

/I would suggest telling the truth for once, darling/ she teased him and she could feel Loki’s smirk and laughter across the link. /However, if you do not wish to tell her, I will when you inevitably come to visit/

/I can tell her. I just might wait until she is more comfortable here. She was already forced to uproot her life to move into the tower. I don’t wish to spring this news on her as well, not so soon with everything else/ He hadn’t done well with sudden revelations in his own life and he didn’t want the same to happen to his Sigyn.

/Of course, darling.  I just thought she should know sooner rather than later.  I love you, my son/ Frigga told him warmly and ended the connection. It wasn’t the easiest thing to maintain across the realms.