#nothing about that class specifically it's literally the first class of the semester

[snailmailmp3]

the good news: despite my flight being delayed by almost 24 hours i will probably be able to make it to my first and only class today on time

the bad news: this means that i have to go to that class

[liyawritesss]

𝐛𝐚𝐭-𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐰/ 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐦!𝐬/𝐨

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Duke Thomas

Type: Headcanons

Synopsis: You digest books just as frequently as you eat, so what would life be like for the men of the infamous Wayne family with a lover who can never be found without a book?

Warnings: some cursing maybe? Very brief and vague allusions to canon accurate violence

A/N: whoohoo, my first introduction into DC! My family has always liked Batman so I guess it's natural that him and his family lore are what drew me into DC in the first place lol. This is my first time writing for the Batfamily, specifically the guys so please go easy on me 🧍🙏🏽

Tags: @honeypotsworld @honeybleed @insomniac-jay @punkeropercyjackson @badass-dora-milaje

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Bruce Wayne

He’d be very intrigued by the amount of intellect you have from the amount of books you read. Not a lot gets him interested in people, but being able to engage in a conversation about classic novels or even plays and/or essays piques his curiosity.

When he comes back from a day of being Bruce Wayne or a night of being Batman, nothing warms his heart more than seeing you tucked away in a nook in the parlor or the windowsill of your shared room, all cozy with a hardcover and warm loungewear on and a cup of tea.

On the occasion when he's not busy (which is fairly rare, a once every three months kind of ordeal) he'll ask you to read something from one of his favorite books. The parlor would be closed off for the evening so it's just him and you, with the occasional appearance from Alfred to provide food and drinks. It's his idea of a date in a sense - and nothing beats a good five course meal by the fire place with a good book and greater company.

Dick Grayson

He thinks your little obsession with books and reading is cute! A smart and intelligent young woman with excellent taste in literature? Oh, his heart is already swooning. 

He's the type that you can't bring into the bookstore with you, because he can and will buy anything you look at, even if it's just a display book not for sale, he'll bargain his way to getting it. Literally anything for his little bookworm. He'll literally sit and listen to you rave on about the latest romance novel or have critical conversations from whatever philosophy journal or article you've just read. Even if he has no clue what youre talking about, he'll engage with you the best he can to let you know he's paying attention and interested in your hobby.

You definitely helped him in that one semester of college he was in, and you literally saved him by the skin of his ankles because he was failing miserably beforehand. After you read the material from his classes that he was struggling with, you were able to regurgitate the information back to him in a way he understood it. You're truly a lifesaver to him, you and all your smartness. Shit, you.might convince him to pick up a book or two every now and then!

Similar to Bruce, he'd like for you to read to him. While it's also a winding down together ordeal for him, he just likes your voice too much to not hear it every second of every day.

Jason Todd

Oh boy. Oh. Boy. I feel like the second you tell Jason you're an avid reader, or he finds you reading at some point, his interest in you skyrockets. He's so deep into literature and has yet to find someone on that level as him, so when you appear it's like he can be his geeky literature self to his hearts desires.

Reading dates, library dates, coffee shop dates just to read in the ambiance, they are DEFINITELY a thing with Jason. He may lean more towards the secluded ones though, where you both can be cuddled up together and just enjoying the others presence while reading. I can vividly picture the both of you on a bed by the window, your legs thrown over his and your head on his shoulder while his hand is caressing your calf or thigh, thumb swiping over the skin there every now and then. It's literally the most perfect thing for him.

I headcanon that one of his favorite contemporary novels is “Chronicle of a Death Foretold” by Garbiel Garcia Marquez, and I feel like it's one of the first books he introduces to you. He's honestly kind of nervous when he does and really hopes you like it as much as he did the first time he read it. And when you're done with it, the both of you talk for hours about the magical realism of the book, its journalistic writing style, the characters, the themes, the philosophy, oh he's so enamored with it AND enamored with you.

A cute tradition you both start is reading the same books or book series together, and he does get pouty and upset when you read faster than him or read without him. He'll scrunch his nose and pout so hard, “we're so suppose to be doing it together, why're you ahead of me already?!” But he never stays upset at you for long. He'll be right back n3xt to you on the couch for your evening reading session (when he's available of course) after a kiss or two and a promise not to do it again. And you better not!

Tim Drake

Like his older brothers, he finds your affinity to books and reading rather adorable. He likes the idea of having someone he can stay up for hours with just doing your own individual things. I feel.like a Tim loves parallel play, so you being up reading with him while he's doing God knows what on his computer set up, it brings him a bit of solace. 

Though, yes, you do have timers set and a specific time limit to make sure that both of you are getting something to eat, even if it's just a granola bar, and to get some decent sleep. Yes, you're the main one enforcing this (though Tim has his moments too where he take initiative, especially if he notices a book's got you emotional). It works pretty well, better than what you both originally thought it would, but maybe it's because wherever you go, Tim will follow you like a lost puppy with his big adorable eyes.

Tim, much like him, would definitely put in a lot of research to any books you're interested in so he can have meaningful conversations about them with you. He'll be up till late hours reading things like summary pages, analyses, author's notes, and he finds himself getting wrapped up in the books he's researching, too. And yes, he'll read them digitally on some sort of reading tablet or iPad while you've got your physical copy. You know he's always gotta have some kind of tech in his hands!

Ironically enough I think Tim would be more into poetry books than regular novels and such? He likes cryptic things and is more than happy to put in the extra thinking on a piece of poetry. That being said, he'd definitely read you poems from said poetry book, and would like to talk about their meanings with you too!

Duke Thomas

I feel like Duke would love someone who's deep into reading too, because much like Bruce, it's a quality in a person that he finds interesting and attractive. He may tease you about it sometimes but he genuinely thinks it's pretty cool how many books you can read in a month. 

You actually slowly turn him into an avid reader as well. At first it would just be books for class that you'd need to read for the semester. Then he'd start a collection of said books from said class at home just to have around, because ironically they were some that you really enjoyed yourself. Then, the collection would start to grow, and Duke would tell himself it's just so that you've got a good selection to read from whenever you visit. He knew he couldn't deny it anymore when Bruce had commented on his sudden interest in literature after one day coming across him with a book in had an the parlor. Yes, his brother teased him for his sudden interest in reading due to a special lover of his, and he wasn't able to live it down for weeks after it became common knowledge of how much of a reader he was turning into.

Like Jason, I definitely see coffee dates and bookstore runs as part of your dating routine. He treats them very important to; buys a bouquet of flowers before the two of you stop by a local coffee shop before heading to the bookstore to browse. And if it's a nice day, you guys will find a park to read at!

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

[futurecorps3]

imagine no war!!! remus after hogwarts decides to go to university, meets a muggle and falls head over heels but doesn't think he's good enough for her (w his condition on top of being a wizard and poor) but he brings her to meet the marauders anyway because they keep asking to meet the person he won't shut up about, maybe harry's birthday or just a pub outing or whatever??? he's nervous she'll fancy sirius but it's quite clear to everyone the second they meet that she clearly only has heart eyes for remus and the gang are like are you insane she's CLEARLY smitten with you and it literally takes everyone he knows to point it out for him to think he might even have a chance but is still floored when she's like "remus, i adore you, i've adored you from the moment we met" bc goddammit he deserves to be loved like that!!!

𝐈𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

Masterlist<3

Summary: The request sums it up, read it hoe Pairing: Remus Lupin x reader Warnings: Alcohol consumption and that's all I can think abt hehe Word Count: 4.5K (i'm sorry) Requested: Yes

A/N: I'm absolutely sobbing. This is so cute!!! I'm using the Reggie was a spy for the order wild card and roll with that. Tysm for this awesome idea, nonnie! And sorry it took so long.

Remus knew magic existed, the type of magic that opens doors, gives you luck or disarms someone. But until he met her, he didn't know there was a type of magic that could be contained in someone's eyes, someone's smile, or even in that little quirk she had of squinting every time she focused.

Y/N Y/L/N. Even her name felt like the sweetest honey when it rolled off your tongue and into the air, he figured. She was a new kind of magic and Remus was hooked from the get go. They had met on a rather peculiar set of circumstances. When Moony first got to college, he had no friends or anyone nearby to help him cope with the abrupt transition. The boys visited as much as they could, but it'd be for about an hour or two before they had to go back to the ministry.

So, as he did when he arrived at Hogwarts, Remus found solace in reading and taking his wolfsbane at appropriate times. He was doing a classics mayor and reading the Plato classics was a convenient way to kill time while doing something productive. The boy spent hours in the library, sitting on the couches or getting some annotations done on the desks; he'd be done with the school's classics collection before the semester was over if he kept that pace.

He would have if he hadn't found those notes. Remus first noticed them in a worn copy of a compilation from a specific period of Plato's scripts, the third page in Philebus. "Socrates is being very reductive. I don't like it. Out of character, I do declare" written in red ink, cursive letters delicate in the ripped white paper.

He giggled at that, his thoughts exactly. Moony picked the piece of paper and examined it to see if it had any indications of who might've written it, but he found nothing. He only knew that the person who wrote it had a ruined red pen; the stains of ink sitting messily on the opposite side of the annotation. Remus was a sucker for mystery stories and he viewed this as an opportunity of having one of his own!

A short-lived one, since he cracked the case when a pretty girl on his history of philosophy class asked around for a red pen. Remus frantically but quietly rummaged through his satchel and found one just in time.

He rushed to her, offering it out “Here” he smiled, looking down at her as she looked up at him. “Thanks… Remus isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure. Y/N Y/L/N”. Y/N introduced herself, offering her hand out. Stained in red. The boy stared shocked at the realization this was the person he’d been looking for.

“Oh shit m’sorry, it looks like I committed a murder or something. My pen started leaking yesterday while I was studying in the library” She laughed and Remus swore he’d faint if he hadn’t gripped her hand. “Actually…” Remus started, searching in his pocket for the piece of paper he kept, when he finally found it, he showed it to her and a smile broke on those pretty lips.

“…I hope you don’t mind! I-I kept it. Been looking for you, it made me laugh” He admitted, handing it to her “You found me then! And, you’re very much welcome to keep it, Remus” Y/N grinned and Remus mirrored her expression sweetly. They met for coffee the next day. The day after that, they studied together. And the week after, they shared lunch.

About two months after they talked for the first time, they had gone on a date every single week. From museum outings to walks around campus if one of them didn't have much time. They also sat together in philosophy and, turns out, literature (which they realized they shared after).

Y/N gifted him a cool rock once, and he kissed her.

He kept the rock in his pocket ever since.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Come on, mate, you gotta tell us who she is!" James exclaimed, his excitement palpable as he repeatedly patted the worn wooden bar in the cozy pub they had agreed to meet at. Remus chuckled and shook his head, a fond smile dancing on his lips as he took another sip of his whiskey.

"You've been talking non-stop about her since you two met! The last three times we've seen each other, it's been Y/N this, Y/N that. We've gotta meet the missus," Sirius playfully teased, giving Remus a light shove with his shoulder.

Rolling his eyes playfully, Remus glanced at his friends, grateful for their persistent curiosity but also hesitant to share too much. "Oh, Pads, don't call her that! We're not even official yet, and I doubt we'll ever be. She'll find someone, alright, but I'm just good old Remus," he replied, a hint of wistfulness shadowing his gaze.

It was true; good old Remus had learned how to stop caring about what other people thought of him, but that didn't mean he was entirely confident about who he was.

Navigating the Muggle world presented its own set of challenges for Remus. He knew that at some point, he would have to confront the whole "Hey, I'm a wizard, and there's this whole other world you don't know about, hope you don't mind!" situation with Y/N.

Then there were the lingering money issues that weighed on his mind. College was not cheap, but he had managed to secure a decent scholarship, which alleviated some of the burden. He hoped Y/N wouldn't care about his financial situation. And, of course, there was the delicate matter of revealing his true nature as a literal werewolf. How would she react when she found out?

Yeah.

He was good old Remus: poor Remus, monster Remus, scarred Remus, wizard Remus. If he were honest with himself, he was surprised they had made it past the first day, considering he had stupidly worn a short-sleeved t-shirt without anything to conceal the telltale signs of his condition.

But she noticed the perceptive and kind-hearted soul that she was, and she chose not to mention it. In that moment, Remus couldn't help but imagine the possibilities, but he also knew that reality had a way of reminding him of his limitations. Moony knew he would never be able to claim her as his own. Not in this lifetime, not in the next.

For now, he chose to cherish the moments they shared, basking in her laughter and marveling at the way her hair defied gravity with its radiant beauty. She was his bit of magic in a world that often seemed devoid of it. Deep down, however, he couldn't shake the nagging certainty that good things didn't last for boys like him—boys with tragedy coursing through their veins.

"Yeah, no. We're not doing this shit again," Sirius declared, shaking his head in disagreement. Remus's best friends had grown accustomed to his self-deprecating tendencies and were determined to lift his spirits. Remus might have been a mysterious figure to some, but to the Marauders, he was an open book, their brother.

"That's why she likes you, mate. You're good old amazing, lovely, smart, hot Remus!" James proclaimed with a boisterous cheer, pulling Remus into a tight embrace. "Tell you what, bring her to Harry's birthday party this weekend! I'm sure Lily won't mind," he suggested, his mischievous grin widening. Sirius enthusiastically chimed in, nodding in agreement. "Just ask her first and let me know, okay? I don't want Harry to have a bad time becaus-"

"Oh, Moons, the party is more for us than for him! He'll be out like a light by eight, and we'll get wasted like we always do," Prongs interjected, his infectious laughter filling the air, causing Remus to join in, his worries momentarily forgotten in the camaraderie of his friends.

There was no way out of this one, not that he sought an escape. Remus couldn't blame his best friends for their eagerness to meet Y/N. They knew him better than anyone, and they could see the spark of happiness she had ignited within him. Moony did little to hide his excitement, his heart fluttering with the hope that maybe, just maybe, things would work out.

Now, he just needed Lily's approval so he could gather the courage to ask the girl who had captivated his heart to accompany him to the birthday celebration—a step that held the promise of a new chapter in his life, one filled with both joy and uncertainty

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Remus nervously fiddled with the corner of his book, stealing glances at Y/N across the library. The soft rays of afternoon sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting a warm, golden glow on the rows of ancient tomes and the elegant wooden shelves that lined the room. But in that moment, all Remus could see was Y/N, a radiant presence amidst the tranquil surroundings.

Summoning his courage, Remus took a deep breath and approached her table. The scent of old parchment mingled with the delicate fragrance of her perfume, creating an intoxicating blend that filled his senses. As he neared, he couldn't help but notice the way her eyes sparkled with intelligence and curiosity as she immersed herself in the world of words. Her hair cascaded down in gentle waves, its hue reminiscent of auburn leaves in autumn, and he found himself captivated by the way it framed her face, enhancing her natural beauty.

"Hey, love," Remus greeted her with a warm smile, trying his best to appear at ease. "Mind if I join you for a moment?"

Y/N looked up, a surprised yet welcoming expression crossing her features. Her eyes met Remus's, and a playful glimmer danced within their depths. She gestured to the seat across from her, her voice laced with gentle humor. "Well, if you insist. But only if you promise not to distract me from my riveting studies."

Remus chuckled, grateful for her light-hearted response. He took the offered seat, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. "I'll do my best to behave, I promise," he replied, a twinkle in his own eyes. "But I do have something on my mind that I wanted to ask you."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. Her curiosity piqued. "Oh, really? Well, go on then. I'm all ears."

"There's a little someone's birthday coming up this weekend," Remus began, his voice filled with playful anticipation. "Harry, James' adorable son, is turning two years old. And, well, I was wondering if you'd like to come with me to the party."

Y/N's face lit up with a mixture of surprise and delight, her smile contagious. "Are you asking me to crash a toddler's birthday party? That sounds like a dangerous proposition," she teased, her tone lighthearted.

Remus laughed, his nerves easing with every moment of their easy banter. "Well, I can promise you that the party will be more entertaining than dangerous," he quipped, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "There'll be cake, balloons, and probably a fair amount of chaos. It's a chance to embrace your inner child if you want to look at it that way."

Y/N pretended to consider it, her finger tapping against her chin. "Hmm, cake, balloons, and chaos? You make a compelling case," she replied, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "How can I resist? Count me in, darling. I'd love to celebrate with you and your mates."

Remus couldn't contain his happiness, his relief flooding through him like a warm wave. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed, a genuine excitement coloring his voice. "I can't wait for you to meet everyone, t-they insisted I brought the girl I don't shut up about to the party"

Y/N smiled at that, holding Remus's hand over the table. "So you've talked to your friends about me?" "Oh shut it" He smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Right before those grey clouds of self deprecation repeating "this won't last" and "enjoy it before she realizes what you truly are" clouded his mind.

He shoved the thoughts away, holding to Y/N's smile against his lips as if it was an anchor saving him from drowning.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Bad idea. Bad idea. Bad idea.

He really did try to plan it all neatly. From what he'd wear to how he'd introduced her to his friends. Remus even asked them to keep the magic discreet since it was all too soon for that conversation, but for fuck's sake; it all got thrown out the window when he saw her in low waisted flared pants and his Bowie shirt. "H-hey!" He smiled, almost yelling, but she just laughed at his enthusiasm.

"Hi Rem," she sighed, leaving a kiss on the corner of his lips which she left lingering a bit too long. "Ready?" "As I'll ever be!". As Y/N and Remus walked hand in hand, the excitement in the air was palpable. However, beneath her playful demeanor, Y/N couldn't shake the nerves that fluttered in her stomach. Meeting Remus's best friends felt like stepping into a new world, and the fear of not fitting in or being accepted gnawed at her.

She stole a quick glance at Remus, hoping he wouldn't notice the physical manifestations of her anxiety. The last thing she wanted was to burden him with her own inner turmoil. But even as she tried to compose herself, her voice wavered slightly as she spoke.

"Remus, I can't deny that I'm feeling a bit... off," she admitted, her words stumbling over her nervousness. "My heart feels like it's racing a marathon, and there's this knot in my stomach that just won't loosen. I hope it's not too obvious." Remus turned his head towards her, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. His eyes sparkled with warmth and understanding.

"Hey, I get it," he said, his tone comforting. "Meeting new people can be nerve-wracking, and our bodies have interesting ways of letting us know. But you know what? You're doing great, sweetheart, and I'm here with you. We'll take it one step at a time, and I promise we'll have a good time together. So, let's embrace the adventure, nerves and all, and see what the night has in store for us, okay?"

Y/N nodded thankfully, the knot loosening up a little. “Thanks baby”. The world stopped in Remus’ perspective at the pet name but he just nodded and kissed her cheek. He helped. He was a warm blanket after a long day even when moments like those weren’t happening. Comfort.

They eventually got to James’ place; the loud music coming from the two floor house making Y/N feel even more at ease. It radiated a warm, welcoming energy even before stepping in. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.

“Deep breath”. They both took a breath before approaching the door and knocking, the wine Remus’ plus one brought close to breaking with the force she was holding it with. A bright smile opened the door, hugging Remus immediately. “You have no idea how happy I am you’re here Moony”.

Y/N smiled sweetly at the nickname the boy had for his best mate. She didn’t know where it came from but James seemed to be the sun reflecting on the moon. On Moony. The girl knew Remus’ light was enough to outshine the sun itself, but the comparison seemed cute.

“You must be Y/N! He can’t shut up about you. Can I hug you? It’s okay if not, Sirius says I need to ask before hugging people but I just love it so much I cannot help myself” He rambled, making her giggle as she uttered a small ‘It’s okay’ and hugged the boy. She noticed Remus staring and just winked at him. “Is that cake I smell?” Y/N grinned, peeking inside before James stepped aside to let them both in.

“Yes, come inside! My wife, Lily, has just finished baking her chocolate cake recipe. It’s bloody brilliant! Harry’s favorite in his short lived culinary experience. You gotta meet him too!” Moony stayed behind, cherishing the way James’ warm welcome made Y/N feel a little more comfortable; her shoulders relaxed as well as her grip on the wine bottle.

He stepped in, hanging his coat on the rack he helped Lily choose when his best friends bought the house. Rapid steps came running down the stairs, and before he turned around, the smell of cigarettes and leather filled his nostrils. “Hello Pads” he smirked, hugging his friend tightly.

“Hey Moons! Did the missus come?” “Yes, she’s outside with James and Lily-“. He was cut short when his best friend, (his eyeliner wearing, muscled, rocker, tattooed, charming best friend) ran all the way into the garden to greet the girl. He was head over heels over.

A new feeling settled into his chest. An unpleasant one. Sirius was a dream. Remus was just good old Remus. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! He sighed heavily, ran a hand through his hair, and then covered his mouth. Y/N was not one to be too forward, but the way Sirius looked and acted could easily make her reconsider.

It got worse when he heard her loud laugh coming from the garden, followed by a chuckle that unmistakably came from Sirius. His best friend would never do it on purpose, but then again, his charm was never used on purpose. It just sort of happened. Remus sighed and walked outside to find the girl saying hi to Harry.

The toddler had his tiny hand wrapped around the girl's fingers, babbling incoherencies, as Y/N had a full conversation with him. "Are you sure?" she asked and Harry answered nonsense as the girl nodded back. She looked up at Remus coming through the sliding door. "Remus, he's the cutest thing I've ever seen!".

He laughed and walked over to her. The girl immediately wrapped her hands around his arm and hugged him tightly. James winked at Moony and went inside as the conversation ensued, Sirius teasing Remus about the girl he "brought home".

Soon, Y/N was well adapted to their friend's sense of humour and was joking around with Lily about how dumb they could all be. Despite Y/N's worries, it all went by smoothly. The one he got along with the most was James; he loved asking questions, and she loved answering them.

Remus had always loved her laugh; Seeing his best friends being the cause of it made it even better. "I'm telling you, he's insane!" Sirius laughed, bouncing his leg up and down as Harry sat on his lap giggling. "He's an absolute sweetheart" Y/N answered, kissing Remus' cheek as his best friends tried putting dirt (rightfully deserved dirt) on his name.

"Wait until you know him just a tiny bit better. You'll get to see his menacing self... got us in a shit ton of trouble back in school" James chuckled, making Remus roll his eyes and trying to divert her attention by asking if she wanted a bit more cake.

During their evening, Y/N kept a tight grasp on Remus’ hand while smiling at his friend’s jokes. When it was his turn to laugh, Sirius noticed how the girl looked intently over at Remus with a grin on her face. His eyes looked gorgeous in the sun with those little wrinkles when he giggled, she thought.

In that moment, she realized she wanted Remus to say her name as you’re supposed to say it; sleepily, with a mouth full of food, between laughters and in tears. Y/N saw the specks of brown in the amber colored lake that his eyes were and fell completely. Sirius saw it, James saw it, Lily saw it.

Even more when he turned to look down at her and wipe a bit of chocolate off her cheek, and she kept that look of utter adoration for him. “He’s gone” Lily mumbled to her husband. “She’s too” he agreed. Sirius smirked, getting up to get Harry to bed as he fell asleep on his uncle’s arms as the sun set.

James and Sirius were at the center of attention, regaling the group with a hilarious story from their time at school. Their voices were animated, and they gesticulated with enthusiasm, drawing everyone into their tale. Remus stood nearby, a mix of amusement and mild embarrassment evident on his face.

"And then, there was this one time at Hogwarts," James began, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "when we decided to prank the entire Slytherin common room! We turned all their robes into neon pink ones!"

Sirius chimed in, laughter bubbling in his voice. "Oh, it was epic! They all looked like walking flamingos! The look on their faces was priceless!"

Y/N was thoroughly entertained by the story, but she couldn't help but notice Remus's subtle blush. She leaned closer to him and whispered teasingly, "Remus, were you part of this grand pink robe conspiracy too?"

Remus grinned, shaking his head. "I plead the fifth," he replied, trying to hide his amusement. "Let's just say those were wild times, and I may or may not have been an innocent bystander."

Y/N laughed, enjoying the playful banter. She was captivated by the camaraderie and genuine friendship between the group. As the evening continued, she found herself drawn into more anecdotes and laughter, feeling a sense of warmth and acceptance in their company.

Remus's friends made her feel welcome and included, and she couldn't help but feel grateful for being a part of this close-knit circle, even if she didn't know the full extent of their world. The nerves that had accompanied her earlier had transformed into excitement and a genuine desire to create new memories with Remus and his friends.

The feeling was reciprocated. Remus felt, and not on mere theory; the moment Y/N excused herself to go to the bathroom, his best friends started gushing to him about the girl. "Moony, she's in love" Sirius said between incredulous and joyous laugh "Oh Pad-" "Mate, I'm telling you... she looks at you like you hung the bloody stars!" now said James, Lily nodding pridefully "She looks at you just how James looked at me back in the day".

And Merlin did he want to believe them! He truly, really did. But instead, there was this empty feeling on his chest. There was no way Y/N Y/L/N looked at him in the way James looked at Lily; Almost scared of the joy she brought to him, like that pain in his heart would end up killing him and he'd quite literally die a happy man. So, when Remus dropped her off at her flat and turned his head before she'd kiss him on the mouth, the void went deeper.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Y/N couldn't sleep that night. Her mind was restless, thoughts of Remus swirling in her head like a tempest. She tossed and turned, replaying the events of the evening over and over again, each memory etching itself into her heart. There was no denying it anymore; she was utterly and completely in love with him.

The realization hit her like a wave crashing onto the shore, powerful and unstoppable; she was head over heels for Remus Lupin.

The next day, Y/N couldn't concentrate on anything. Her mind kept drifting back to Remus, like she'd could easily find herself absentmindedly doodling hearts and his name on the margins of her notebook. She needed to tell him; she couldn't keep this to herself any longer.

In the late afternoon, she gathered her courage and dialed his number, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited for him to pick up. When he finally answered, his warm voice on the other end sent shivers down her spine.

"Hey, Remus," she began, trying to sound casual despite the turmoil inside her. "I was wondering if we could meet up later? There's something I want to talk to you about." Remus's response was filled with concern. "Of course, love. Is everything alright?" "Yes, everything's fine," she reassured him. "I just... I have something to tell you, something important."

He agreed to meet at their favorite cafe later that evening, and Y/N's heart fluttered with nervous excitement. The minutes leading up to their meeting felt like an eternity, but finally, the time came. When they sat down together, Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. Remus looked at her with those caring, gentle eyes, and she felt a rush of emotions wash over her.

"Remus," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't even know where to start. Y-you've brought so much magic into my life. From the moment we met, I felt something special, something I couldn't quite put into words."

He listened intently, his gaze never leaving hers.

"I've never felt this way before," she continued, her cheeks flushing with emotion. "You're like a beautiful enigma, a captivating mystery that I can't get enough of. You make me laugh, you make me feel safe and cherished, and every moment with you is a treasure. You've shown me a kind of magic that I never knew existed, a magic that exists in the little things, the stolen glances, the shared laughter, and the way you hold my hand. It's like you've cast a spell on me, and I never want it to end."

Remus's eyes softened, and a tender smile graced his lips. "Y/N, you're the most incredible person I've ever met," he replied, his voice filled with emotion. "From the moment I saw your ink-stained hands, I knew you were something special. You've brought light into my life, and I can't believe that someone as amazing as you could feel this way about me."

He reached across the table and took her hand in his, their fingers interlocking like two puzzle pieces, finding their perfect fit.

"I'm not good with grand gestures or flowery words," he said, his voice a whisper. "But I can tell you this: I care about you deeply, more than I ever thought possible. You make me happy like I never imagined I'd could feel. I've fallen in love with you, Y/N, and I can't believe my luck."

Y/N's heart soared, tiny tears of joy welling up in her eyes. "Oh, Remus," she murmured, her voice choked with emotion. "I'm so in love with you too. You've shown me a kind of love I never knew existed, a love that feels like coming home. I cherish every moment with you, and I want to share my time with you, if you'll have me."

Without hesitation, Remus leaned across the table, closing the distance between them, and pressed a soft, tender kiss to her lips. It was a kiss filled with love and promise, sealing their feelings and intentions.

"I'd be honored to have you in my life, Y/N," he whispered against her lips. "You're my bit of magic in a world that can be harsh and uncertain, and I never want to let you go."

And so, in that cozy cafe, two souls found solace in each other's love. The world around them faded into the background as they basked in the enchantment of their newfound love, knowing that this kind of magic was unlike any other they had ever known. They had found something truly extraordinary in each other, a love that would stand the test of time and shine brighter than any star in the night sky.

˚ · • . ° .

It’s currently 12am and my brain isn’t working so i’ll just post this and place the word count in the morning.

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

[sarah-denial-cq]

Power In Names

Take a second to think about degrading terms for women. You're here on my Tumblr, so you've probably heard some of them. I thought I would give my thoughts on some of them and what my favorites are. I'm writing this entire post with panties stuffed in my mouth so we'll see how long it goes.

First of all, my favorite, is bitch. When Rose pushed my face down against her clit in her car, pulled over the side of the road on Valentine's day with my ass up in the air and my dress stripped off, and said "suck it, bitch", my mind went so fuzzy. It hit me so good and hard. But why?

"Bitch" drips with gender violence. So many words are generic ("slut", "whore", "slave", etc), or focused on specific body parts ("cunt", etc) or activities ("cocksucker", etc). But "Bitch" cuts through those to my specific identity. And it is unmistakably, unavoidably hierarchical. A bitch is beneath, inferior, contemptible.

I'm so fucking wet and squirmy writing this, sorry.

But that's not all. The actual sound of the word has so much to do with it. "Bitch" starts with a voiced bilabial consonant, a "B" sound. Yes, my university degree including several semesters of linguistics classes, which I'm now using to explain why being called a pathetic fucking bitch is such a good way of being put in my place. I needed to take a break to edge after writing that.

A voiced bilabial consonant means the sound is formed at the very front of the mouth with two lips rubbing against each other and coming apart. Kind of like when you spit on someone. Or kind of like what you hear when someone spits on you, I guess. The word has the most violent "attack" sound at the beginning of it. Compare it to words like "slut" (unvoiced alveolar initial consonant) or "whore" (unvoiced glottal initial consonant) and there's just no comparison.

By the way, "voiced" vs "unvoiced" refers to how the vocal chords are vibrating. You can feel this by wrapping one hand firmly around your throat and using the other to slap your face while you compare the voiced "b" in Bitch with the unvoiced "p" in Pathetic. I can't, of course, because remember I still have my panties stuffed in my mouth right now.

OK, so with "Bitch" dealt with, I need to talk about the elephant in the room, which is the word "cumdump". Now first of all, I haven't had any consensual sexual experiences that have involved being used in that way. But that being said, while I know it's super common on tumblr, "cumdump" really does nothing at all for me. You know what does? You know what word you can use for me that's so, so much more (squirming again) of a hit to my fried out brain?

"Cumtarget".

Again, it's the violence in the word. It's not a passive receptacle. There's no hierarchy, no danger, nothing about "cumdump" makes me prey. I know there's an ethos to a woman as a passive receiver but do you really want Sarah lying in bed like a dead fish? I want to be targeted. Hunted. Claimed. Overpowered. Defeated.

I'm drooling down my front.

In no particular order, here are a few other favorites.

Pathetic (that initial bilabial consonant, yes please)

Rapebait (p, b, targeting, violent)

Stupid (diminishing, disrespectful, "p" sound, obviously purposefully disrespectful since clearly I'm objectively not)

Dyke (complex)

Bimbo (bbbbbbbbbbb and see "stupid")

Backup Fuck (b, p, very explicitly hierarchical.)

Cunt

Weak

And some less violent:

Babygirl (heart emoji heart emoji heart emoji) (not ddlg)

Eye candy

[redacted because it's rooted in ableist language that I'm not comfortable using]

sorry I'm really wet right now this is too hard

And quickly, a few that just aren't that interesting

Slut (so overused it may as well just be "hello")

Whore (I literally was one)

Slave (you're divorced, wear a suit that's too tight, and love black and white gifs)

I hope that was insightful and that reading it improved your day. I'm going to put these panties back on and lick up the wet spot on the chair now.

xo

[whetstonefires]

💖🎶🛒

For the fanfic ask meme :3

💖 What made you start writing?

I...okay so there's a dumb literal answer to this I'm going to give first. My sixth grade English class was a two-semester-long creative writing seminar, where we were honestly taught almost nothing; the teacher just. Made us write things. Whatever things. For months.

She was incredibly patient with our baby shit, looking back, although when two of her students started writing execrable sixth grade poetry she set us on each other so we could get feedback without her, and managed not to make it obvious she was trying to escape the horror of sing-song childish scansion and the way kids that age take themselves horribly seriously and you have to not laugh.

Her name was Keely and I owe her, because up to that point I had refused to write my ideas down because if I slowed down enough to get a sentence written out I'd have forgotten all the bits that came after and the story was now dead and stupid and it was the worst, so writing was clearly not for me.

(I couldn't really type at this point, and didn't have reliable computer access anyway, and I'm left-handed, which makes writing longhand slightly slower and more difficult no matter what you do. Also you just don't write fast when you're ten.)

But Keely made me, for months, and it turned out this was a skillset I'd just had to work to acquire, and then I could do it and it wasn't a miserable soul-killing process after all. That's the first time I remember learning that lesson in life, and it's such a useful one. (Technically I went through a similar process with reading several years earlier, but that was partly because some very bad pedagogy put me off it at first, so it was less enlightening.)

Less prosaically, I got stuck on writing because I was a voracious reader and I kept thinking up stories, and writing them down was rewarding.

I find it's a great craft because you can get in all kinds of practice without actually doing it; you can string and edit sentences in your head when you have nothing to do or while doing something boring, and critique fiction you're exposed to, and try to understand literally anything you experience, and it's all applicable. As someone who gets frustrated with 1) materials consumed 2) skill plateaus and 3) having a Thing around after having made it, writing in the era of the word processor and cheap data storage is ideal, because it's both easier to keep my skills growing and harder to notice when they aren't than with most creative outlets, because I can store all the millions of words I've written in an object the size of my thumbnail, and because it's not supposed to do anything useful in the first place. If it does that's a happy bonus but if it doesn't I don't have to feel bad.

Fic is nice because it's got an audience to share the Things with, which makes it even better. And because you get to start at around the complexity level of a third or even fourth draft, skipping a lot of grunt work that I think is honestly overvalued--not that it's not valuable or important skill to have, especially if you want to be a novelist, but also there's a reason people on the whole mostly tell familiar stories over again, but better. The first go will suck in basically any medium. Insisting on starting there every time can lead to subtler skills getting underdeveloped.

🎶 Do you listen to music while you write? What song have you been playing on loop lately?

Occasionally? Most of the time it would just be a distraction I'd have to work through, setting myself up for sensory overload and maybe a migraine.

But when I do it often is a single song on a loop, because the point is that I'm keeping myself suspended in a particular vibe as I pursue a specific scene or character relationship or something. Hasn't happened recently, but I should maybe pull that trick out and see if it helps with any of my stuck pieces.

I seem to recall writing something once to about 19 iterations of Dessa's 'The Lamb?' Oh and several passages of Angels Still Have Faces were written to the Sonata Arctica song I took the title from; it helped me get Angeal to the right state of repressed extreme melodrama.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

Um. Food? Definitely food, between my strong opinions about subsistence informing social priorities and my personal sense that meals are both a major part of the daily pattern of life and very grounding in a place and body, I come back to it endlessly. 'Two people in a room (or other defined space granting privacy) trying so so hard to communicate' is, you know, pretty common motif but I go embarrassingly hard on it.

I'm a sucker for certain flavors of angst, and for when someone is very hopeless and then someone else gives them support. I think maybe people breaking down and asking for help and then actually getting it? And just how gross and messy it feels to be miserable and how much of it happens in the body.

What else? I feel like a third party would be better able to call me out on my patterns. A lot of them after all are the patterns of my thoughts, to a sufficient extent that I experience the universe in those terms by default and that's why it keeps being there.

When I describe hugs I tend to be very precise about where everyone's arms are because I feel like that's important. I try to be specific about features of nature like the species of a bird or tree or whatever, unless the pov character wouldn't notice such a thing, and even then I often know for the sake of precision. Lots of hand gestures, and putting of one's hands on pieces of scenery and so forth, that's my theater background coming through mostly. A tendency to emphasize the kinetic relationship between objects perhaps a bit more than usual.

If I'm describing a character that has an existing visual form, I drill in on the most distinctive details I can find; this is probably by way of mild face-blindness meaning I care a great deal about whether someone has a crooked eyebrow or distinctive dimpling or something, because I'm not going to learn their face fast enough to get away with not being able to id them and call them by name until then. It usually takes months.

Diana Wynne Jones advised making sure your mental image when you describe something, especially a place, is as precise as possible, so you won't decline into abstraction, and I've found following this advice to reliably net good results. If you only know about the things you actually mention, things get flat real fast.

(The trick then is not getting bogged down in deciding which things to mention.)

I dunno, what would you guys say are my signature moves?

[chemblrish]

You are literally living my ideal life! (I dream of getting a degree in and working in chemistry) What are the drawbacks/ highlights of your work in university?

Hello!

I'm so happy to hear you want to major in chemistry :) It's a beautiful, fascinating science and the superior one at that. Keep in mind this is my experience as a first year student (and if any older chemistry students want to chime in, please do!)

Personally, I'm very much in love with my faculty, so it's hard to be totally objective snhfks but what I really enjoy about my studies is how I get to learn all the important concepts in depth. Everything I once learnt on a simplified surface level now I get to explore with more nuance: things like calculating pH, precipitation, solubility, it's all a lot more complex than what they can (understandably) tell you in school and it's really satisfying to be able to dig into that.

Speaking of calculations, I liked math a lot back in hs and I was good enough with it, but definitely not math student level - and I feel like chemistry is perfect for me, bc I get to do math nearly everyday, but it's not the terrifying kind that physicists deal with that hard (unless you choose theoretical chemistry I guess, but that's definitely not my sort of thing).

Then you have the practicals and it's so satisfying that you get to do everything yourself! First semester we mostly worked in groups bc we were babies, but now we work by ourselves and it's so cool to see how your manual skills improve, how much more comfortable you become working in lab, how what you learnt in lectures and what you learnt in practice come together.

I've always been very curious about the natural world and now I'm studying it with people who love what they do, who are extremely knowledgeable and intelligent, who want me to learn and succeed. Also, our puns are the best 😁

Now, for the drawbacks...

Back to seriousness though: I'm not sure if any of the cons I'm about to list are chemistry specific, I think being in uni is just Like That™️, but I'd say the failures hurt like crazy. Sometimes I study so hard and do my best but still get a low grade. Chemistry is a demanding major. And the thing is, everyone around is also working so hard, and it looks like you're surrounded by absolutely brilliant people (I know I am!), so your insecurities may really flare up.

Consistency and discipline are absolutely necessary - once you fall behind, it can be very difficult to catch up and I guess you can see how that gets stressful at times. Similarly, you need to be mindful about what you study - you come across a difficult topic, decide to skip it to save some precious time, and I can promise you that each one of those without a fail will come up sooner or later like the hiccups. Basics first. You need to grasp them well and not shy away from things you don't instantly understand.

Each semester is a bit different, but my second one in particular has been exhausting in terms of the number of classes I had to take. After 7h (and a million reactions...) in lab I still had to go to another class and wrestle with Excel, and the only reason I was able to come home afterwards and do Nothing™️ was because I'd spent the entire previous weekend studying.

Every major has its downsides though. I used to study something else (biotechnology if you're curious) and I hated it, so I think I'm a lot more aware of what I like and dislike now, what I can endure, and what I care about - and I've found out chemistry is something I care about deeply, something I can picture myself choosing over and over again if given the chance. That means the pros outweigh the cons for me.

I hope this answers your question and didn't bore you to death 😅

[mintymayo]

my life is so cringe rn. i had like 4 seizures after starting lamotrigine for bipolar. which is also an anti seizure medicine. and is just straight not supposed to do that. it should not cause seizures. but i would have them right before i was supposed to take the lamotrigine, and correlated with dose changes/timing. but it was working so well i felt so good!! i didn't want to stop

so i went to the neurologist and he was like "u probs have an underlying seizure disorder. try taking it around the clock instead of just in the morning" and so i do that. and i have 2 more seizures.

and so i go back recently and showed him a video of me having one hes just like "yeah thats a really bad seizure. definitely not to be taken lightly. i have never seen anyone react like this to an anti seizure medicine before. we already did multiple eegs and other stuff, u gotta go to the epilipilogist" (specific epilepsy doc idk how to spell it). so i guess thats where im going next. all the way in may.

ill just stay on keppra. the worst medicine ever that makes me more depressed than when i started and destroys my appetite. while weaning off the medicine that made me feel really great and motivated. in my first semester of college where im already struggling with an accelerated class that has a final in literally 2 days.

this is so cringe tbh.

side note: ambulatory eegs are SO ASS they put glue on your fucking head in ur hair and then don't even remove it all and im STILL finding tiny glue pieces in my hair. it's been like 2 weeks dude stop.

side note 2: there's so much medical shit i hate doctors. my mom got permanently ill, lost her job, our house (main breadwinner) and has energy, confusion and speaking problems after taking something that will not be named for legal reasons. NOBODY believed her ever so she has just slowly recovered some over time (enough to work again and stuff) but without any help from doctors.

i can't even get a fucking root canal done correctly.

which is obvs nothing compared to that but still. i specifically say "hey, my mom had really deep really complicated roots. please make sure to be really thorough." and they were like "sure"! anyway i didn't get a crown put on immediately because i had a gut feeling they fucked it up. guess who can still feel in that tooth. it doesn't hurt much but still. i even told the dentist and he was like "well theres no pain. we classify this as a successful root canal :)" like dude.

AND THEN I've had so much shit going on w the seizures that i haven't been to the dentist and now the tooth about the root canal one is getting a cavity probably bc the sharp edges of the root canal tooth is right below it piercing it. luckily it doesn't hurt (no idea why) but like oh my godd

[hoonvrs]

Hey saint watchu doin 😊

Honestly had a really bad day today and Ur the only person I can talk to rn. Idk what's up with ppl forcing me to do things I don't like and telling me to stop doing things I love doing. As if whatever I wanna do is always wrong. My school has restricted me to do any crochet in the campus EVEN THOUGH I don't interrupt nor am I distracted during the classes. My mum has told me to solely focus on studies and do crochet in the holidays. BUT now they want me to do extracurriculars. Maybe I'm in the wrong but I have no interest in the acts of singing, dancing, art and other cultural activities. But I have to do them because I do nothing at home. Like I don't take extra classes for playing instruments, or go to other places for tutoring, nor do I learn anything involving self defense, dancing, singing, reciting. I don't even like sports. I just don't like these activities. But I have to do them and I'm being forced because they're 'good for me' and 'good for my future'. Which I get it's completely fine. But is crochet not? Infact I wanted to do a specific activity and my friend wanted to do photography. But since I chose that activity, she has to too because she won't do photography alone. And then she said it's my fault but when I said that I could switch for the sake of her not blaming it on me for the rest of the semester, she said no. I can't deny anything anymore. When they ask me if I want to do something and I say no, they ask why and I just say that I don't want to. But apparently that isn't a valid reason to say no. I would say all of this to my mum but she's friends with my friends mums and would try taking to them about it but I don't want the others knowing. Ill be honest saint you were the first person I could think of because no one else would just listen to me and not go tell someone else or start asking questions. I don't have anyone to talk to anymore. I just wish things were like before when in was like five and I wasn't allowed to meet my friends outside of school. When our parents weren't friends to the point they would steal away the only day my mum had a holiday I could spend time with her on. I wish I had someone to talk to. Now all I can do is look in the mirror, cry, and talk to myself. Saint you don't understand how much talking to u like this is helping me. We don't even know eachother personally but at least I can talk to you freely without any judgement. I just wanna live my life. I've never had a moment in life where I felt free since I was 5. I miss freedom.

-🌜(rant again 😭)

i can’t understand personally but i can definitely feel for you cause i have a friend in the exact same situation and honestly fuck them for not letting you do what you want in your own life, esp ur school cause in what world do they completely nan you from crocheting in school likes it’s really none of their business. honestly the advice i can give ( if you even want any ) is to not do it. nothing teaches a parent a lesson unless their kids rebel cause it honestly so much easier to ask for forgiveness then for permission, and they’ll see in the future all of that was so useless.

with your friend pls try and stand up for yourself, coming from someone who’s literally ignored her own cousins cause they were being bitchy it’ll be better to avoid and ignore her then to have to put up with her attitude. tell her no one told her to ditch photography and that she should learn some independence or she won’t get too far in life, and she might get offended but that’s her problem not yours.

i’m happy that you feel safe enough with me to share this but i’m so upset that you have to go through this, praying it’ll be js an emotional memory when you’re a little bit older with more independence cause parents will learn to give their kids freedom once they’ve hit an age where they can’t control them ( usually uni )

don’t let anyone try to talk you out of what you love or talk you down into staying in a toxic friendship just because you’re ‘parents are close’ or ‘you’ve known each other for so long’ they’re js manipulating you into wasting your energy and effort on stupid friendships and ik it’s easier said then done but you’ll feel so much better without that burden

[sparklingpax]

In Relativity

A/n:

-I could not, for the life of me, figure out a better title. You get that. Not even sure if that's what I mean and I'm so sorry. But I am also not taking suggestions

-being absolutely serious, a good 90% of this was written during my health class and/or lunch periods in which I wasn't hungry.

-i am so sorry for typos and grammar stuff I probably fucked up, please please try ignore it if you see it, I'll fix it eventually 😳

-this is so incredibly long, I'm realizing. It's like 30+ pages...sorry--

-a few specific details I'd like to point out:

no, this is not 110% accurate to Masterforce canon, tho I tried my darndest. Part of the reason is lack of clear answers about certain questions I have or limited access to sources that would help me figure out details of their pasts more accurately. The other reason is that I'm also actively choosing not to adhere to some details because I was ultimately writing for fun and experimenting with tone and how I perceive these characters so...do not lecture me about something I screwed up, I am literally just vibing ok

This is still set in Masterforce canon, however. This has nothing (I repeat, nothing) to do with any of the marvel stuff/American comic stuff that involved these characters. It's my understanding that the versions of these characters in Masterforce are their own separate entity to the comic stuff, I am trying to stick only to the anime and stuff connected to that. so....yea

It is my headcanon that I will absolutely keep that the Pretenders have in their files/any technical stuff their "full names" (e.g: "Cloudburst"), but refer to each other with their nicknames (going back to that example, "Phoenix"). It's like, they use both names whenever and don't mind either way. Hence......that.

I wanted to write something about Landmine, literally that was it. I guess overall I'd call it semi-Landmine-centric....Idk but I enjoyed it, he's a cool dude 👀

this is in fact, where i finally reveal myself as a person who also Lowkey ships Lander/Diver and also the idea that they have this...very complicated relationship with each other, which is why they've never really gotten together....I hc that they actually do finally get together at some point during the events of Masterforce (which I also, really want to write). Yes, this is very similar to them in my AU except it's not as complicated as the one in canon. If that makes sense 😳 Also, before you come for my head, it is a healthy relationship in the sense that there has never been any malice between them, and no instances of causing the other serious pain in any way. They like each other a lot, but both don't really know...how to go about it. Idk y'all but ykw I know what I mean. 

I tried so hard with terminology here but my dumb ass doesn't know anything about tech or aircrafts or whatever so...deal with it but don't point it out I'll evaporate--

Upon much consideration, I decided to end it somewhere like, before events of masterforce. I'd say a couple years maybe?? Like 15?? (So tha puts us at 2005, which as I'm writing this omg that's my birth year oop--) So just. assume stuff happened and...following will be the other canon stuff....i guess o//o

So...yea, that should be everything I wanted to mention!

Enjoy (? Or don't? ;w;)....I wrote this for fun & I kinda liked it I guess, so here I am sharing it...lmk what you think if you want, please keep it positive, I get so extremely nervous sharing my writing sdjdsjsdj 😳

...um...so...t-thanks 🥰

That’s what Landmine had been told the first day of Cybertronian Military Academy. 

///

Above all else, a good spark stands for justice, protects all life, and does what’s right. 

It was a phrase taught and repeated every day without fail, quickly memorized well before the end of first semester in that first year.

And when he’d entered Autobot ranks within mere weeks of his graduation amidst the start of the war, it was a phrase shouted to his unit by their commanding officer, only slightly altered this time. 

“Above all else, a good Autobot stands for justice, protects all life, and does what’s right.”

Yes, that was it. Just a slight change. 

But he always wondered if it meant to subconsciously induce very particular thoughts.

‘And if we Autobots do good, then the ones who aren’t us must be doing evil.’ 

To name a few of the supposed many, that was the Decepticons, the rogues, and the subspecies of the planet who didn’t feel inclined to participate in such a “selfish conflict,” as one commentator had put it during a newscast. They were the evil ones, preached the drill sergeants and captains.

The logical conclusion, as it could be surmised. No one said anything about moral. 

As for Landmine himself, he had no problem with “standing for justice,” however vague that was. Considering the lack of any attention, it seemed he was in line with that value, not standing out from the rest and all. 

The case was the same with “protecting all life.” After all, that was a clearer command, and obviously, the noble thing to do. Landmine liked his friends, nature, animals. Of course he’d stand to protect them. 

But for the last one, in the in-betweens to his drills and assignments, throughout all the years of his schooling and the time spent in the trenches of battles, he often wondered what it meant. To “do what’s right.” 

What was a…‘good Autobot’ anyway? 

He could recall the answers he’d received. 

“It means you follow orders,” one older bot spat, laughing. He had then put the ratty cigar back in his mouth and turned away. Clearly, the conversation was over. 

“A good Autobot?” Echoed a solemn youth, shining his shotgun. “Well its in the words you’ve just said! A good Autobot stands for justice, and they protect all–” 

…you get the idea.

“There are none,” was all a small-framed purple bot croaked, taking another sip from his oil can. He’d died on the field, screaming in agony, about one week later. 

And there were more answers, and Landmine still couldn’t figure out his own. But there were more pressing matters in his mind. Firstly, the matter of leaving this dull, doomed unit. 

See, he was a bot who enjoyed adventure, thought himself particularly good in battle. He was known for good one-liners, for his looks, and his sharp shots. This wasn’t the place for him. At the risk of being prideful and conceited, he often thought to himself, that this was no place for him to die. 

It was ugly, style-less, depressing, cold, damp…boring. 

For years, he hoped for more, and finally one day, he got it. 

“Hey!” 

…

“Oh yeah? Well you can take your attitude, and shove it up your tailpipe, Xy.” 

“‘Hey’ yourself, you're not part of this, so butt out you aft–” 

“Aft? Excuse me? I’ve a good mind to report you for that kind of slander and harassment!”

“What?! I didn’t slander you!! I'm not even harassing you, I just insulted you, but--but that's subjective, a-and I didn’t say –”

“Shut up, you two! There’s someone knocking.”

Landmine lifted his gaze from the book he was reading when he heard Klint shout for everyone to quiet down. 

As usual, it was another night in his section base–of the hot-head rookie Cinderflame being aggressive towards “two-word” Xy, and then somehow, getting into an argument with the self-important, self-declared “rulebook” of their subunit, Max. 

But the knocking at their door continued, louder this time. Cinderflame started to protest, and was quickly silenced a quick cuff to the back of his head by Max. 

Landmine closed his book very slowly and sat up in his bunk, watching as Klint quietly got up and headed to the door, activating his gun. Meanwhile, everyone else began to tense up, including Landmine. 

It wasn’t unheard of for mutinies to happen, for somebot to snap and go on a killing rampage, or for the enemy to have infiltrated and quietly taken command of a base. Any number of things could be behind the door, as it wasn’t normal to get a knock on the door at this hour of the night. 

But to their relief, the entity behind the door identified itself. 

“14-E, I order you–open up! Right now!”

Klint lowered his gun and sighed, more an annoyed sigh than a relieved one. They all knew who’s voice that was, and Landmine wanted–and was sure he had–no part in whatever was happening. 

‘Racker,’ mouthed Cinderflame in Xy’s direction, who rolled his optics and went back to organizing bullet shells. 

The other “rulebook” bot, except Racker was official, not self-declared. 

“I’ll mark you all for infractions!” He shouted in an attempt at an assertive tone, pounding unceasingly at the door. 

“I’ll mark you with my fist,” muttered Klint, trudging over. As he did so, Cinderflame snickered, then looked to Max, who was trying his best to keep a serious expression. Even he had no respect for the elected section head, but didn’t want to admit that. 

Well, I’m out, thought Landmine as he fell against his berth and opened his book again, hoping to get back to the story, detaching from the group.

He had no such luck, of course. 

The door opened at last with a high-pitched squeal of old metal, and the section head marched in, shouting for them to stand at attention. Below, Cinderflame gave the beginning of a groan, but it was cut short with the sound of someone elbowing him. 

 See, there was no such procedure in the rulebook, Landmine had discovered a while ago. But, there was also no point in raising that argument now. Begrudgingly, the group all followed the order and lined up at the door. 

Marching in stiffly, the grey-plated bot looked them up and down, a sharp look in his eyes. Then, he stated his business. 

Landmine was wanted in the unit Commander’s quarters.

For a moment, he considered it was some sort of elaborate prank, but that thought was quite fleeting. Jokes of that kind weren’t common around this sector, if at all. 

And if Racker was involved, well…

Doubt he knows what a joke is. 

“Well don’t stand there, move your metal hide!”

“Yes, sir!”

He felt side-eyed gazes of pity on him as he left the line. He felt them follow him as he walked out the door closely behind Racker, and into the barren, darkened clearing. But he was far more curious than worried. He could have easily run ahead to those quarters himself. 

Leaving Racker in the dust was quite easy, anyway. 

…

Racker, expression solemn and blank as ever, stopped at the white door and jerked his helm in the direction of the entrance, then folded his arms and turned forward, as if Landmine was no longer there. 

Go in. Alright. 

Landmine smirked to himself, then reached over and pushed the door open. 

Well. If I’m court-martialed or something, at least I’ll finally be put out of my misery. 

“Good evening, sir,” Landmine said, striding into the room. “You asked for me?” 

He’d never been in a commander’s quarters, and just taking one look at the state of it, he could infer why.

Something to do with the cleanliness of it, the quality of the tools in it…lower-ranking officers certainly had no place here, he could guess.

We belong in our cramped spaces, eating stale oil in our shared, low-rank misery. 

And finally, his optics had fallen on the commander himself, Swipecatch. 

Come to think of it, Landmine was sure he’d only seen the bot once. Or maybe he had a new paintjob? 

I’d like a new paintjob. 

He saluted and straightened his posture before the silver-blue-plated bot finally looked up from a manila-colored folder with messy scrawling and red stamps. It looked like it was important. 

It also looked like a processor-ache to decipher. 

“I did. You’re Landmine, right?” The commander spoke a medium tone, reaching for another paper on the side of the desk and picking up a slim, red pen.

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re a Pretender, are you not?”

"Alright," he murmured, beginning to write something, before glancing back up at the younger bot. “At ease,” he finally added, and Landmine was glad for it.

His gaze was immediately back on the paper as he started to write something into the blank lines. Some more silence followed, broken only by the sound of the pen against the paper, and Landmine watched as he swiftly filled out every blank space, signed his name, then looked back up again. 

“I am told I have such capabilities, sir.” 

“And have you been to training for it?”

“Only at a minimum level, as per my curriculum at the academy, sir.”

“Have you yet attained your third form?”

“I have not been provided any such opportunity up to this point, sir.” 

“Uh-huh…”

Swipecatch nodded, seeming to come to some kind of internal conclusion and writing something in the corner of the paper, before stamping the paper and folding it in half. Landmine began to wonder if he was being disciplined. 

“Soldier, you have been requested to join a special dispatch team made only of three other Pretenders like yourself.” 

Or…this. 

“Now, I can’t imagine you love this place enough to do this, but you do have the option to decline and remain at your post here, as it will be a very dangerous, long-term assignment, far from Cybertron and even this very sector.

“You four will only be provided one ship and instructions to report to us when asked, as we are not able to provide further resources. You will be sent into space to track Decepticon ships anywhere deemed fit to assign your team.”

He eyed Landmine up and down, who stood motionless, staring unwaveringly at his commander as he waited for him to continue. So he did.  

“Your...commander will be a recent academy graduate, Metalhawk. I am not at liberty to share anything more about him than this.” 

He shifted back in his chair, tapping his pen against the table.

“Since I take your…silence…to be an acceptance of this offer…” he said slowly, holding out the folded paper and letting Landmine take it. “I am giving you this now, so that you may board the next transport ship that comes in tomorrow, at first light.”

Landmine unfolded the paper a bit, catching sight of the orders written in fine print above the uneven writing of his commander. 

Previous commander, actually. 

“This is not a promotion, merely a new assignment that my higher-ups feel you are equipped for. There will also be a training period with your peers starting the moment you are all gathered at your launch site. Do you understand?”

“Fully, sir!”

“Alright, then. Dismissed.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

 He vaguely wondered if the sound the commander made after that was a laugh or a scoff. 

 Landmine saluted again, and left the room, clutching the paper in his digits, which had begun to vibrate with excitement. 

Suddenly, all the years of stale oil and bleak death around him, putting up with various groupings that never seemed to work out–with this doomed unit–seemed worth it. They’d been part of some plan, something Landmine had to go through for a while before this, before…

 Destiny. It has finally called my name. 

…

“Mighty lucky, aren’t you?” Klint remarked, leaning against the wall and watching Landmine stacking a couple books. 

Landmine simply looked up and grinned.

 “Stay alive,” Xy mumbled from his bunk, not even shifting position to look at the team as they gathered in the center of the space. 

 His inspirational capacities truly sway the spark. 

“Thank you, Xy. I’ll do my best.”

The mech raised a thumbs-up, making no further comment. 

“This is favoritism!”

“It is not. It’s the will of our higher command.”

“Well, don’t you think it’s unfair?”

“Shut your trap!” Max made a fist and took a step towards Cinderflame. “Questioning high command could be treason!”

“Oh shove off, you annoying glitch.”

"I beg your pardon?!"

"Yeah, I said it!" 

Klint groaned, facepalming slowly. Xy, in his bunk, put on some headphones and inched closer to the wall.

As usual, not even an hour after wakeup calls, and the two were at it again. But while Landmine conceded he wouldn't miss the unwarranted noise, he knew he would miss being able to laugh internally at their stupidity. 

Cinderflame kicked at the ground and glared at Landmine, who was closing his bag and picking it up. 

“We have to stay in the scrap," he muttered, "but he gets to be special! He gets to–”  

Knocking at the door quieted the room. 

In the brief silence, Landmine wondered how pompous he'd sound telling Cinderflame that he was, in fact, a special bot. 

He decided it wasn't worth the breath.

"It's time to go!" Came the voice from behind the steel.

Landmine stood tall, strapping the bag to his back and heading outside, without a second look to his scrappy unit, who no doubt would forget his existence quite soon. 

“Landmine?” The gruff, unfamiliar mech asked, looking at the Pretender. 

“That’s me.” Landmine then noticed the markings on the sides of his Autobot insignia, certifying him as a higher-ranking officer. “That’s me, sir,” he revised evenly.  

The officer narrowed his yellow-green optics, almost skeptically. Then he spoke again. “We’re driving a while, two hours at longest. You fueled yet?”

Landmine nodded, feeling his excitement start to build. 

Naturally, the place where any transports or supply ships landed would be miles and miles from any camp, for security reasons. Only superior officers would know supply drop-off locations. One could imagine such things were carefully coordinated long before a ship's arrival.

It was then that Landmine recalled he’d never once been on a supply run.

And, he guessed, he'd never find out what it was like. But he was cool with that.

“Right. Let’s move out, then. And stay close to me.”

That won’t be a problem, sir, Landmine thought, excited for the opportunity to spin his wheels. 

He also thought himself quite proficient in the art of speeding in style.

They both transformed, then sped to the entrance of the barracks. The drive took about an hour, quickly clearing miles of dry, uneven land, until at last, coming upon a ridge, the tip of a large, grey mass could be seen.

He could feel the vibrations of anticipation–of excitement!–growing as the mass became more and more like the shape of a transport ship–his ticket out of this forsaken place. 

Briefly, he began to wonder what the new team was like, what the ship and its resources provided would be, where they'd be assigned first…

Will I see my new commander’s face more than once or twice, whoever it is? 

And at last, they rolled down the sandy-brown rocks and onto the clearing, below the massive overhang of the ship. Landmine could hardly contain himself, and transformed as soon as his wheels came to a smooth halt. 

His superior officer also transformed, drawing up next to him, folding his arms again.

"Well. Off you go." 

He offered a brisk pat on the shoulder pad before trudging off to the left and calling out to one of the smaller mechs in the distance. Landmine reached into the bag strapped to him and fished out the paper before marching up the boarding plate. 

Landmine made it through the security check easily, papers identified, baggage approved, and he found the area in the cargo hold where he was to remain for the duration of the ride. 

“You will not leave this area until we have reached the designated location. We will use force if you cause any trouble. Is that understood?” 

“Yes, sir.”

A cargo hold… 

Well…it was a free ship ride during a war.

Landmine waited for the guard to leave, then walked over and sat down against the wall, well within the space he’d been told to occupy. He held his bag close to his chestplates, wondered if a full power-off would be a good idea, or if the ride would be too short for that. 

It seemed they weren’t going to allow him that information, either. 

 Ah, well, they’ll just have to wake me, then. Who knows if I’ll get a moment’s rest where we’re going anyway? 

 And with a quiet whirring, his systems slowed and he leaned his helm against the wall, slipping into a peaceful powerdown. 

…

It seemed the guard wouldn’t have to come and wake Landmine after all, as the ship came to a halt at its destination with a large thump that shook the ship down to the nails in the wallplates. 

Landmine was instantly ripped from his powerdown, jolted awake as he was thrown forward and then smacked back against the wall again when the vehicle finally halted. Rubbing his helm rather drowsily, he gave a small pout. 

Whoever’s driving should have their piloting license revoked. 

But he immediately recalled where he was and what he was doing, and the excitement returned, grasping his entire body in its hold. Quickly, he grabbed his bag and scrambled to his feet, waiting for someone to come and let him out. 

Be cool, be calm, you’re acting like a giddy sparkling. 

 Right. Steady motions, smooth words. Just as usual. 

And finally, someone did come. Actually, Landmine realized upon listening closer, there were…two sets of footfalls. He wondered if they were maintenance bots, or maybe a pair of workers come to unload the cargo hold, not permit Landmine to leave yet. 

But he remained still, listening to the footsteps, coming closer and closer until–

“He’s in here. You’re…assuming responsibility before he reaches the camp, sir?” 

It was the same guard from before. But then, the other bot with him spoke. 

 “Of course. You know higher-ups don’t give information about assignments, leading to accidents and the like.”

Odd. Was it one of his new teammates? 

He must be higher-ranking than me to have that guard call him “sir.” Or maybe I’m being moved up a few–no, wait. Swipecatch said this isn’t a promotion. But then, why–

Suddenly, the door opened with a weighty hissing noise, and the yellow light from the halls fell upon Landmine, who’d been getting used to the blue shadows of this cargo area. He immediately turned and saluted, watching as the guard walked in first, looked around, then stepped aside. 

In walked a yellow-plated bot, who took one look around, then put a servo on the shoulder pad of the guard. 

“You can go if you like. I gather you’ve more important things to get to, and I know the way off the ship.”

With a small smile and a salute, the guard turned and headed out the door. 

Landmine watched, somewhat amused, as the yellow mech leaned his head out the doorway, calling a thanks to the guard before turning back to Landmine with an awkward kind of smile. 

He actually thanked that guard. How interesting. 

Landmine returned the smile, a little more confidently. 

“Right. Um,” the bot took a deep breath and walked up to Landmine, offering his servo for a handshake. 

“My name is Metalhawk. I will be your new commander. Your other teammates are already aboard the ship.”

 Optics flitting from the outstretched servo to the earnest, blue optics staring back at him, Landmine was beginning to realize something. 

“I understand any previous commanders you’ve served under might have made a point on formalities, but I’m more interested in forming a good team than being addressed as ‘sir’ and the like. So, if you don’t mind, I hope we’ll get to know one another better with time.”

And that realization, was that this had been the right decision indeed, accepting this mission.

To be fair, anything would have been better than staying to fight in the scrapheap of a place he’d previously been.

With that…team of characters to live or die beside.

But Metalhawk seemed to be normal, perhaps even kind.

Plus, if his intuition wasn’t off, most captains, generals, and commanders were on the older side, but this bot…

He must be good to be a commander this young. 

Landmine took his servo and shook it firmly. 

“Glad to be serving with you, Hawk. I’m Landmine.” 

 At the nickname, Metalhawk gave a little grin, seeming to like it. 

 “Alright then, follow me.”

With a friendly chuckle, he headed for the door and immediately started to describe the other two bots Landmine was soon to meet. As they headed down the halls and out of the ship, he quickly learned that an he'd be in the company of two fliers–including his commander–and one sea-faring bot.

An interesting and even balance of alt-modes.

 “...and this is our ship.”

They stopped, and Landmine found himself before a huge mass of shining, silver and white metal. The daylight bounced off it gorgeously, edging the ship in glittery light. The green-blue windows looked as jewels, without a weathering mark or scratch in sight. 

The softer-toned blue highlights on the side plating of the vessel led his eye to the elegantly-painted Autobot symbol on the front hood. 

They might have been given the one ship only, but by Primus, was it a beauty.

Perhaps those old generals weren't all so selfish. 

It could have been some old prison ship with extra canons strapped to it, after all. 

This guy's lucky to be commander and score a ship like this. Something tells me Swipecatch wouldn't know what this is like, and he's been in the game longer.

He almost chuckled aloud before remembering where he was. 

A platform began to lower from the ship’s underside, which hung a little higher than their helms. Standing on it was a familiar face, and Landmine couldn’t help but perk up and exclaim–

“Diver!” 

“Lander!!” 

He felt a warmth surge through him. At last, he was seeing a familiar face again.

Someone he'd really thought, he'd never see again.

“‘Lander’?” Metalhawk echoed, taking a step up to the platform. 

The machinery gave a smooth whirring noise and the platform began to rise off the ground and back into the ship. Landmine could only laugh, letting Waverider answer for him. 

“We were arguing once,” the dark-plated mech said, leaning closer to Landmine. He spoke as if telling a weighty secret. “So I started calling him ‘Lander,’ like for his land-based vehicle mode. He retaliated, calling me ‘Diver.’”

“Because you have a water-based alt.”

“Exactly!”

“‘Diver’ is infinitely more creative, you have to give me that,” Landmine cut in.

“But ‘Lander’ is more direct!” Waverider protested. 

“It’s the most obvious kind of name!”

The three of them shared a laugh. 

That was most of the story, anyway. 

As the three headed down the dimly-lit hallway, Waverider kept talking. He started to tell their commander about their shared academy days, about the classes they took, the things they trained for. 

After a point, he couldn’t quite hear what the mech was talking about, as his mind began to wander.

Landmine recalled in flashes of memory, the moments he'd left out of the story...the days following that ‘argument,’ when they’d made up, and both their ‘insult names’ became somewhat like…pet names.

Calling in the hallways, covertly shifting places during inspections or exercises to stand with one another, sneaking into each other’s dorms, speaking in hushed tones as heat rushed through their systems, as if finally realizing all these feelings which had been for so long already there…

His spark skipped a beat as he gazed at the back of Waverider’s helm.

You never apologized for the way you left.

He tried to push those thoughts away. This wasn’t the time to stir that up. 

But it never matters what the mind wants, the heart will always have its way. Guilt, too. Such a persistent thing, guilt–bent on collection of time spent contemplating the past. 

Sharp like a knife, hidden in shadows of daily happenings, its steely glint appearing every now and then, its blade cutting deep into a wound time has slowly tried to mend. 

Tried to mend. 

But I tried…

Landmine began to wonder again about the truest meaning of “do what’s right” was. If it meant for the other bot or for oneself. If being a “good autobot” carried over into matters of the mind and spark, hidden from the public eye, intimate and…

This is not the time. 

Right. Not the time. 

Rounding the bend, Landmine was surprised to find how quickly they’d made their way to the command center. Considering the direction they’d been going, he guessed it was somewhere near the center of the ship.

Landmine watched as Metalhawk stepped in front of Waverider and reached out to a smooth, blue panel next to the door. 

“In addition to the defaults being set up–which I need to fix–I’m the only one scanned for access right now,” Hawk said with a little smile. The door hissed and started to open. “But by tonight you’ll be scanned to the system as well.”

“And the door will open in seconds, not hours!” 

“Yes, Waverider, it will,” Hawk said, rolling his optics.

Landmine watched as the door finally slid to the side, revealing a polished room with pristine, white floors and walls. Along the sides were blocks of machinery he could only guess was what higher-ups meant when they referred to something as ‘state-of-the-art.’

Except this stuff is state-of-the-art. 

The front of the room had grooves that shaped a large window, wrapping around about half the side walls. Landmine guessed they were retractable for direct visibility during flight. 

We don’t even need the windows open to fly the ship. Magnificent. 

“During your pre-mission training together, you’ll be introduced on a basic level to all the machinery aboard this ship, and I will designate you to certain roles when the need arises.”

Everything sparkled in its modern, symmetrical beauty. It was all new, untouched, and would ideally provide the team with advantages in conflicts to come. At least, far greater than the shabby resources given to camps like the one from which Landmine had just departed. 

Far less could die…

“Yo!” 

Three helms turned as a red-plated mech rose from behind one of the monitor stations near the back of the room. He clapped his servos together to dust them off and stepped out from the station, waving. 

“That was quick,” Metalhawk commented, looking the walls up and down. It was hard to tell what was manually modified and what had been unchanged, but Landmine decided it was best to simply trust that all the devices in the room would preform well when they were needed.

“Well...this is Cloudburst,” he said, gesturing at the mech. 

Cloudburst gave a big grin. 

“He’s just fixed our door problem, and most of the settings on the ship’s machinery,” the commander continued, looking somewhat pleased. 

"He did!!" Waverider called from the open door. He'd immediately run back to test it out.

A mechanic of sorts, Landmine surmised.

And, after a few minutes of talking passed, he found his hypothesis correct. 

Cloudburst had gone to university for a bit, before the war, but it was cut short. He was lucky enough to be selected for a special team of machinery developers, but then, unfortunate to have been placed in a camp that was quickly overpowered by Decepticon forces.

“And I made my escape before my section was done in,” he said. “In the days following, I made my way to…”

As he was talking, Waverider leaned over to Landmine. 

“Phoenix,” he whispered behind a servo.  

Immediately, he caught on, smirking. 

“Flier?” 

He watched with some satisfaction through his peripheral as Waverider nodded. 

“Well, I guess it isn’t that exciting, but…that’s about it from me!” Cloudburst finished with a huff and another smile. “So what about you?” 

Landmine felt put on the spot for a moment, then he shrugged. 

“It’s not much compared to your novel of a tale,” he remarked. The others gave a chuckle. He looked to Metalhawk. 

“But first…any chance we have drinks aboard?”

…

Landmine was incredibly amused to discover the lack of tolerance to high-grade his commander had. 

Of course, he’d never been drinking with a commander before, but he’d expected himself to get drunk first. 

Or…am I drunk, too? 

Truth be told, he was feeling a bit sleepy…and warm. 

Music played faintly from a speaker near the ceiling. Some song from a couple centuries back, the tune registering itself in subconscious memory. He knew the tune, but didn’t know the song. 

As it was, with many things. 

Yawning, Landmine tilted his helm, which was resting in the palm of his hand, and looked to his holopad. It was laid at the edge of the table, screen open with a striking, blue light.  

The sudden blue glow against the dim, pinkish lighting of the room hurt his optics a bit, so he looked away again. 

 Drunk or sober, I think I’m gonna fall over. 

 “Commander?” He gently poked the yellow mech. Metalhawk had his head down at the flat, white tabletop. 

Landmine guessed he was asleep. He took another sip of his drink, then put it down, giggling. 

Perhaps this’ll rouse him…

 “Hawk! Report status, soldier!” He deepened his voice to resemble the barking of a drill sergeant, tapping the yellow-plated mech as he spoke. 

Metalhawk gave a short jolt. 

“Whaz’t?” He slurred, raising his helm sharply, looking around a bit. He seemed to realize Landmine was talking to him and turned his gaze to him, squinting. 

“Hawk, I was wondering–”

“Comman’er here,” he murmured suddenly, yet still quietly, cutting Landmine off. He gave what looked like the very definition of an ‘improper salute’ as he spoke. 

“Yes, soldier?” He deepened his voice again, smirking. Hawk seemed partially unaware it was Landmine speaking to him, as if he was only half-awake.

“I report…I’m reporting for…my absence reports…I’ll go to class t’morrow, sir!!” 

Oh jeez. He’s so out of it– 

Landmine tightened his jaw, trying not to burst into laughter.

He promptly failed after a couple seconds more, but Metalhawk didn’t seem to really notice. And of course, this just made it funnier.

He watched as Metalhawk shook his head, looking rather drowsily at the empty cup sitting in front of him, then back at Landmine. Was he aware enough to want another drink? 

Perhaps he’d suddenly have some of that energy from a couple hours ago if he had that other drink.

The image of his Commander stumbling around and laughing in a mildly uncharacteristic manner returned to his thoughts. Landmine waited in anticipation as Hawk continued to stare at the cup. 

But then, he gave a long exhale and put his head back down, mumbling something else. 

 Landmine concluded with a small chuckle to himself that, Hawk was probably down for the night–for good this time. 

 “We come bearing–”

“Shush! He’ll know we’re here!!”

“He already does, you nut–” 

 He looked to the door as made a hissing noise and opened to reveal Cloudburst and Waverider, having a mild argument. 

 “Oh, you’re back,” He said, raising his glass with a small grin. Waverider set the crate down. “I definitely didn’t hear you coming down the hall.” 

He watched Waverider snap around and issue a light whack to Cloudburst. It was likely in place of a triumphant ‘I told you so.’  

This time, Landmine didn’t let himself laugh out loud. He did allow a quiet chuckle. 

Cloudburst walked over and grabbed a bottle, popping it open and taking a drink.

“You and the boss’re still around, I see!” 

Landmine nodded, moving to take another sip, but he found his cup empty. 

“I’d stay, but I’m so drunk right now, I can’t stand up straight,” he said, taking another swig. Landmine nodded again, reaching over and sliding a bottle of his own out of its slot. 

“Oh you’re drunk,” Waverider agreed shoving him playfully. 

And so are you, Landmine thought. So am I, probably. 

Pouring the bottle’s contents into his cup, he found his gaze fixating on the liquid as it sparkled mid-air. He liked the small sound it made as it refilled the cup. 

He did not wish to heed how many drinks he’d already had, or was giving himself. 

 “Well then, begone with you,” Waverider said. With a smirk, he suddenly reached over and swiped the open bottle from Cloudburst and took a sip. The mech didn’t seem to mind, just watching him with an amused grin.

“See you, Phoenix,” Landmine said, taking his eyes off his glass for a moment. He set his now-half-empty bottle next to Metalhawk’s sleeping figure. 

That was definitely too many drinks, considering the size of his cup.

  “I’ll be here for a while, I think.”

 Cloudburst nodded acknowledgement and made what Landmine classified as: an improper salute: exhibit B. 

“Then–until the morning shines!” He said, almost a little too loudly. “Cloudburst, signing off my duty–I mean–for my duty! I will bring you–”

“Shut up, you lugnut!” Waverider shoved him out of the room, laughing so hard he lost his footing a bit. The two toppled over, landing outside of the room. 

Landmine just watched, sipping at his cup. The door hissed shut on the sight of the two drunken mechs trying to unentangle themselves and stand up again, amidst their giddy, tipsy laughter. 

“Until the morning shines,” he echoed to himself absentmindedly, shifting his cup from side to side. 

The bubbly feeling he’d been harboring the whole evening was, inevitably and suddenly, starting to fade.

There was something starting to well up inside. Something another couple glasses wouldn’t fix, even though he had as much left in the bottle he’d just taken. 

Something rather cold and dark. 

To think I was among the dying in some forsaken frontlines camp. Now, here I am, drunk, with drunken fools. Look at me, one of them. 

He wasn’t feeling so warm anymore. 

Excitement awaits, or is it crueler death? 

Another sip, and he felt a twinge of unease. Or was it nausea? His fuel tanks remained in slight discomfort, but not enough that he’d be inclined to obey its silent will. 

So, he tilted his helm upwards to finish off the glass. Now he was ready to go.

Landmine rose unsteadily, swaying a bit, gripped the tableside. He felt his fuel tanks lurch with the movement, and took a second to breathe slowly.

He glanced at Hawk, still sleeping in his spot. He wondered when Waverider had planned to come back in, looking to the door. But everything had gone quiet. 

Probably went back to his quarters with Phoenix. 

Ah, well. It was about time he stopped drinking for the night, anyway. With a huff, he hauled himself upright and started towards the door. 

Don’t know where mine is…

He figured he’d just go back to the command center. Perhaps no one would mind if he passed out there. 

…

Three weeks later, the team was almost through with their pre-mission training requirements, with only days to go before they were certified to move out. 

It hadn’t been easy, but Landmine found himself feeling more confident in the mission to come, and in his Pretender abilities, which had until this point, meant next to nothing to him. 

 It was funny to think how the higher-ups had tried to convince every bot that their only purpose was a soldier, who should hold their gun and shoot–the only exception being if they were elite by caste or class, or simply higher-ranked. 

Day after day of military academy–especially after the war really got started–Landmine knew he was no elite. He was trained in how to use his gun, how to survive without proper resources for periods of time, to be a strategist–with the all the smarts a bot might need but would forget when a blade shoved itself against their throat. 

Yet still, only twice had he ever been spoken to about being a Pretender. About fighting as a Pretender and not as simply another Autobot soldier.

Perhaps it was trivial in the bigger picture–after all, dead is dead. 

 4-edge, 3-edge, length sticks, no not those…

Landmine’s optics flicked to the different boxes lined up in the shelf. Some of them had labels, some of those labels had faded to white. 

He’d gone to fetch some repair supplies for Cloudburst. And as usual, the silence invited the chatter of his own thoughts. 

How many were there like himself, with unacknowledged potential–who would likely die in battle, the intricate stories of their lives forced shut in an anticlimactic conclusion. No adventure, no life lived before their time? 

And how odd, he remarked internally, to still have the fortunate and the unfortunate, in the midst of a war–one being fought namely for the end of the class divide in Cybertronian society. 

Will we accomplish anything when we end this, other than the destruction of cities and lives? Be it violent tyranny and oppression, or the will of corrupt and almighty governmental bodies–who below them would come away with anything other than what has always been? 

Head down, staring at the contents of the open box, Landmine felt a familiar ache, a sinking feeling of dread and despair. 

Our lives lie in the hands of others. If we like it or not, if we wage a war for it or not. How fair is that? 

“Lander! Where are you, buddy? We’re doing another simulation soon, but Hawk wants us in the main hall first!” 

Waverider. 

He looked up, staring at the wall outside the open door. He felt guilty as silence followed, likely for his own lack of response. But he couldn’t say anything back right now. He gripped the box more tightly and started down the hall. 

Memories began to awaken. Things he wanted to remember that made his chest hurt, reminding him why he also…didn’t want to remember. 

I'm just as bad a spark, aren't I?

He wondered…how fair it was to break someone’s heart, and then, act like nothing had happened at all. 

…

On the day for liftoff–when training was complete and all certifications to move out had been met–Landmine found himself exiting powerdown before daylight had emerged in the sky. He was not a late-riser by any means, but not usually quite so early either. 

He stared at the faint rays of daylight, reaching through his window and lighting the edge of his room walls.

He thought about the vacuum of space ahead. Something like a smile played at the corners of his mouth. 

I’ll remember this for a while, won’t I? 

The mech paced his room a couple times, rolling his shoulder joints and stretching a little. He'd found many benefits to morning exercises.

Optics ticking to an empty glass bottle lying near the window, his mind drifted back to the evening before. 

To the impromptu speech Metalhawk had made last night over some drinks in the bar room. 

The dimly-lit room carried a quiet murmuring, a laugh here and there. Landmine had come a bit late, taking his seat while Waverider waved a hello and handed him a glass. Cloudburst was, of course, talking. 

After a little while, Landmine glanced over the table and saw that Metalhawk had a distant sort of smile on his faceplate. 

He ran a finger against his rounded glass, gently. Then, as if deciding something, he flicked the edge softly. 

The soft cling caught the attention of their group, quieting them. And, without moving his optics from the sight of the rippling liquid in his cup, he’d begun to speak. 

“As we prepare to liftoff tomorrow, I wanted to…say a few things.” 

He looked now, to each one of them. 

“I…cannot guarantee we will make it back to Cybertron, that we will always have what we need, or that we will…survive this. I don’t know if we’ll succeed or fail in our mission, end up as prisoners of war on some Decepticon ship or not, or die as just a handful more nameless, faceless faction of the Autobot army. But, there is one thing of which, I do ask you to be certain.” 

He smiled a smile that no longer seemed distant, but very much real. Present. 

A look shimmered in his optics that Landmine knew well, yet not of his own experience. 

It was a look that belonged only to those who had somehow, not been tainted at their very core–who had somehow learned to love all things as they were, and to always love. 

Someone, he mused the thought, who had perhaps, not yet learned to hate from the pits of his being. Or maybe…

Made a choice, he'd thought.

“I am your commander in name only. More importantly, however, know I am your teammate, and I will not abandon you at any cost. Our destinies are uncertain–I only hope for many good centuries together. Not as mere soldiers of the Autobot faction, but instead as warriors of Cybertron, and of justice. Though imperfect as all beings are, we have, and always will have, a duty to protect life, and to strive to do good. And that mission, above all others, I do believe we can accomplish.”

Landmine gave a shout of approval and raised his glass high in the air. Nodding, the others raised theirs. They gazed back at Metalhawk, who gave a small chuckle, then raised his own glass. 

“For peace!” He offered the toast. Clinking of glass and overlapping shouts followed.

“For Cybertron!!”

“Let’s get ‘em!!”

“YEAA!!!”

Landmine blinked again, realizing he’d begun to stare at that bottle a little too long. 

The memory left him in the silence of his room in the early hours of day. 

Today’s the day. 

He slipped his new blaster to its holster and cast one more look at his room, then headed down to the main room to start course-planning, as a favor for the others on the ship, of course. 

…

Many years had passed since the Pretenders’ liftoff. Missions had been carried out, ships tracked and ambushed, prisoners transported to warships that arrived quickly after battles. The three weeks of training hadn’t done much to show them what they’d learn firsthand on every mission. 

Many hours were spent behind piles of mission reports and other writeups for record-keeping. No one had been seriously wounded up till this point, just some scratches here and there. 

When it was time to close in on their target, there’d be tense silence in the command room, darkened save for the computer display of what lay outside their ship’s windows. It was the unspoken group decision that pursuing targets would mean windows were closed, for maximum stealth effect in addition to the cloaking technology their ship possessed.

The panel walls were littered with an array of maps and charts (digital or tacked on rather hastily) that either had to do with their ship or the one the team was chasing. All optics and servos were locked to their task, relaying commands and requests between stations, ready for almost anything. 

 And at present, that was kind of the team’s situation…with one slight change. 

 “Phoenix, give me the numbers on our bottom left central thruster. Will it hold?”

 Having tracked their target to a very distant quadrant, the computer didn’t have much information about the area or its conditions. 

 “Ah…we’re at 42% power and dropping. The damage report indicates the shielding was torn off and it’s leaking fuel. The secondary power source cables are damaged as well, so once all the power’s gone, that’s it.” 

“Are the damage control systems online?”

“Negative. We have to go manual,” He pulled up the video feed of their rear camera to show the damage. “We are traveling at full speed in space, so manual repairs are not doable–”

“–without the cost of a life, alright. And if we continue pursuit as we are?” 

“Without repair? The…system says about 20 minutes until it starts sucking power from the other ones, and then we’ll enter float stage, pre-free-fall.”

 So…they were trapped. 

Landmine watched as he ducked his head, dealing a restrained punch to the wall next to him before returning to his command station and furiously typing away at the controls. He cast his eyes back to his own task, repeating to himself that he must stay focused.

“I’m going to try to reroute the power from the damaged thruster to the functional ones and shut off its power. We need to land now, or we’ll be forced to land,” he said quickly, not looking up. 

The tremor in his voice was audible, ambiguously a tone of either urgency or fear. 

 Landmine looked up from his station, where he had been managing their travel course since no one was piloting manually. 

 “Should I analyze the properties of our current sector and any stable landforms?” He offered, already pulling up another screen. 

“Yes, make sure–”

 Suddenly, the vessel jolted downwards and shook with such force that everyone was knocked to their feet. A blaring alarm sounded as the ship shook again, an automated voice announcing in smooth Cybertronian that their back two thrusters were out of power. 

The lights shut off for a second, while the ship swayed unevenly before a loud whirring started up and it moved back up again. 

When it returned to a somewhat stable position, the lights remained flickering, and everyone remained gripping their stations tightly so as to not fall over. 

 Metalhawk straightened and immediately dashed to the front of the ship, smacking a panel on the front computer and grabbing the steering wheel. As he twisted it, he turned back around for a moment. 

 “Lander–something within the current firing range of this ship–we need a landing place now!!”

“We’re abandoning target pursuit?” 

 He felt a small spark of hope as Metalhawk, gave a silent nod in response. He had the feeling most other commanders would have sacrificed themselves and their ship, preaching the nobility of dying for this cause without abandoning the mission.

 “With any luck, one of our last stray shots hit their ship too–which was already on its last leg from the looks of it,” Waverider piped up. “So they won’t be too far ahead, I’ll bet.” 

 “Okay, then,” Landmine switched off his station’s input to the course control and focused his efforts on scanning the nearby planets. “I’ll get something.” 

The ship was vibrating now, but not with its usual even-toned hum. 

It was the kind of uneven vibrating a machine made before it finally gave out and powered down for good.

Meanwhile, all the planets in their current sector weren’t looking too appealing. 

Not many with life or long-term livable conditions…Hm…

“Balance function is starting to–”

As if on cue, the ship began to tilt downwards again, the metallic whirring noise growing louder and louder. A small explosion could be heard before the lights shut off for good and the alarm system abruptly stopped. Everyone was tossed violently to the ground. 

The automated voice struggled to tell the room–

“We lost the third one!!” Cloudburst called over the halting monotone speech from the ship’s speakers. He shook his head picked himself off the ground, then rushed for the door. 

“I’ll shut off the power transfer so it doesn’t fry the rest of the ship and us in it!” The door hissed open and he disappeared down the hall. 

 Then, the sound of…something blowing out, sounded in the room. 

“Oh, sweet fraggin–” Waverider muttered the beginnings of a swear before whipping his gaze to the side to watch as the left half of the ship went completely dark, the computer panels clearly destroyed past functioning point. 

He slammed his station with a balled first. 

“We’re blind on the left side!”

Metalhawk made a noise of frustration and worry, just barely audible above the roaring engine as it struggled to stay active. He was grappling with the somewhat functional manual steering system, trying to keep the ship at a steady angle. 

 “Can we open the–ngh!!” 

He was cut off as the ship as the ship lost control again, throwing him off the wheel and slamming him against the wall and then the floor. As he stumbled to his feet and back to the steering wheel, he gasped as he saw the other side of the ship’s display panels begin to flicker ominously. 

Landmine swallowed, doing his best to quickly surf through all the information presented. 

“We’re almost out of power–we can’t deactivate the panels!”

It was now or never, they needed a place to–

'Sol System Entry 7625 - Life: detected.’ 

Landmine blinked twice at the screen in front of him. He scrolled back to the planet that had read the one positive result among the sea of negative ones. 

It that…?

With a quick tap, the image of a blue orb with wispy, white clouds tracing its edge, floating gently in its place, appeared on his display screen. His optics flicked to the planetary report, intrigued to find that this place had even been previously logged into Autobot travel records. 

‘Atmospheric makeup: Non-toxic. Resource profile: Varied, Non-toxic. Cycle End Date: Undetected. Motion Cycle: Rotation.’ 

He checking one last thing, anticipation building–

Landing conditions: Optimal; follow procedure 41F-52.’

That was it.

“We need to prepare the ship to enter foreign atmosphere!!”

Waverider and Metalhawk snapped their gazes in his direction.

“Yes, I found us a landing spot, you can thank me later. The profiles of the surrounding planets are virtually uninhabitable–this is our only option right now!” 

Waverider exchanged looks with their commander, who gave him a sharp nod. Then, he ran over to Landmine’s screen. After a moment, he chuckled a little. 

When he turned to look at Landmine, a smile had cracked onto his face through the solemn, controlled panic that had been previously. The soft, turquoise light from the only control panels still working in the room bounced off the curves of his face, shimmering off his blue visor. 

 And even though there was such a high chance they’d die in the next few minutes, Landmine found himself frozen, simply staring back.

 No. We can’t die today. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. 

“Hey! Um, a little help here–did we find something?!”

Landmine let out a little laugh and slid back into his seat as Waverider seemed to snap back to seriousness and leaned over to speak for him.

“Hawk, it also checks out as habitable to carbon-based life forms!” He called, gripping the his station as the ship jerked to the side again. “We’ll be fine as long as we land safely!” 

Just then, Cloudburst came rushing into the room. 

“The core engine isn’t looking good, guys! We need to get the ship out of full thrust mode or we’ll overheat, and our power sources will mix and explode!!” 

Oh. Wonderful. 

So, the options had been expanded beyond: 1.) drifting aimlessly, trapped inside a non-functioning ship until energon-depletion or some other cause killed them, or 2.) losing power completely and burning up upon entry to the nearest atmosphere.

Now, they had a third option: sitting and waiting for their ship to simply overheat and explode. 

The reddish mech ran up next to Metalhawk and started pushing buttons on the control panel. 

“Someone needs to prepare the stasis pods and program them to ejection mode, I’ll set an altitude point!” 

“Got it!” Waverider called, jumping up and sprinting out of the room. Landmine started inputting the coordinates of destination to the navigation system–one of the only undamaged things thus far–and deprogramming the space travel controls. 

A couple minutes of silence passed before he flashed a thumb-up in the air.

“We’re ready for atmospheric entry in approximately 40 seconds and counting!” 

“Brace for a drop, everyone!” Metalhawk shouted, planting his feet and gripping the wheel with all the force he could give. 

“Stasis pods are ready to go!” Waverider reentered the room, sliding back into his station.

“Engines to 15%!”

“Roger!”

“Everyone get down!!”

There was a loud noise from the engine, then an abrupt silence as it cut down to about 15% power, and then the ship dipped so far downwards that Landmine felt himself grimace. 

Part of him even wondered if this was really procedure, and that they weren’t all about to die now. 

As if we weren’t before, he scoffed at himself. 

He dug his digits into the side of his seat and shut his optics as the ship began to pick up speed. 

The eerie silence endured for what felt like an eternity before the ship moved again, this time to right itself and return to a normal angle. At least, normal enough that Landmine opened his eyes to look around and see that the others were slowly standing up. 

 Metalhawk let out a shuddering breath and pressed a couple buttons with shaking digits before stepping back and regarding his crew. He’d probably switched the ship back to autopilot, so that they could all–

“Everyone to the stasis pods,” he ordered solemnly, quietly. 

No one else spoke a word, ducking their helms and filing out of the room and into the hall. 

Landmine walked out last. 

He cast one last look at the nearly pitch-black command room, catching sight of the last couple working display panels struggling to function before the door hissed shut behind him. 

He felt a twinge of sadness at the idea that they were saying goodbye to this ship so soon. Admittedly, it had been one nice vessel, with a gorgeous design and plenty of capabilities.

Then, there was the stark realization that once they entered stasis, they might not make it back out alive. 

We can’t die today. We won’t.

Since the ship was barely working, the lighting in the halls was…nonexistent. However, they knew exactly where they were going, and walked quietly in the darkness until they reached their destination. 

With a quiet whirring noise, the door slid open. The darkness was abruptly luminated with a soft, greenish glow, emanating from the center of each stasis pod lying in its place. 

There were six of them, more than enough for every member on this team. 

Landmine had been there to help Cloudburst put in the other three.

He walked in and watched as Metalhawk entered his verification to the panel on the wall, deactivating the locks on each one so they hissed and snapped open simultaneously. The greenish glow faded to a blue, as if softening, to invite them in. 

“Whatever the outcome, remember what I said to you all on our liftoff day,” Metalhawk said as evenly as he could, turning and regarding each mech slowly, kindly. He had that smile on his face again, which seemed to ease the tension in the room. 

“If we make it out alive or if this is the day on which Primus welcomes us home, I am honored to have had such a good team of friends. I am honored to die, not for this cause, but surrounded by you.”

"And we're honored to remain with you in this moment, sir."

"It was an honor indeed."

"Frag yeah."

Their commander nodded, then swiveled to gaze down at the stasis pods.

“Then…until we meet again,” he said, soft enough that he almost wasn't audible.

He then walked to the back of the room and took a step into the pod. Cloudburst followed, taking the one next to him.

Landmine stepped towards his pod, then stopped, frozen in place again. 

It wasn’t quite hesitation or fear, but something was stopping him from going forward. He could feel the quaking beneath him, as the ship was no doubt somewhat falling apart, reaching closer and closer to the ground. 

He heard the doors to the other pods seal themselves shut, administering the stasis lock. 

But something was…

“Hey.” 

He looked to his side and found himself millimeters away from Waverider. His spark skipped a beat. But, he wasn’t afraid. 

He found himself reaching out and gripping Waverider’s servos, firmly, yet gently. He traced his thumb along the palm of his hand, smiling with a deep emotion he couldn’t quite place. 

Waverider’s visor glittered, a smile twisting the corners of his mouth upwards. He let his helm fall against Landmine’s.

He spoke so softly, so gently, in his easy-going way that almost made it seem like he didn't even fear death itself. 

“I want to see you again.”

“Me too.”

“Then see me again!” 

“Alright, I will,” Landmine chuckled, letting go of one hand and bringing it up to caress Waverider’s face for a moment. “I won’t leave you again.” 

“Oh, Lander…”

“I’m sorry for everything, I’m sorry for the things I said back in Academy, I'm sorry for never contacting you, I’m sorry for–”

“Shh…” 

 The black-plated mech drew away, his hand sliding slowly out of Landmine’s grip. He gave a soft smile and climbed into his pod, still watching him.

Landmine found himself to be shaking, unable to speak as he watched Waverider lean back and close his optics. He didn’t know how to describe this feeling, that seemed to break his facade, to suddenly force him to realize of the gravity of everything happening in this moment. 

The possibility of the unwanted outcome, which no one would mourn, and no one would remember, until long after the war was over. Or perhaps, not even then.  

He watched, motionless, as the glass panel slid over his body, the blue shining off it in wavy lines.

He mouthed something just before the glass fogged over and he could no longer be seen. 

Until we meet again. 

He could still felt the touch on his hand, the weight against his forehead, heard the softly-whispered utterances ringing in the recesses of his mind as he finally forced himself to move. 

Stepping into his own pod, he felt a strange relief wash over him. Perhaps it was closer to sudden resignation, but he wanted to believe it was relief.

A sheet of clear glass moved over his body, another, thicker one sliding over from the side.

It was a very small space, this container. 

He found himself smiling.

Maybe now he could finally say he’d been a good Autobot. 

Had the past been fixed? Had he done anything right or...just? Had he truly strove for the protection of all life, as Hawk had put it? 

Perhaps. Or not. But maybe I did my best. And maybe…that’s good enough. 

And then, the nothingness of stasis wrapped its grip around him, and everything went dark. 

…

“No, you need a new tie–where’s your sense of style?!” Landmine took a long drink from his glass before shaking his head. “Oh, wait I forgot–you don’t have one.”

“Says the guy in the ugliest jacket I have ever laid eyes on–”

“That's my favorite one, shut up!” 

“You!!”

“You!!!”

But the both of them were laughing.

Though tipsy, they hadn’t thought to call it a night yet, especially not on their drinks. So they remained, sitting near the window of a high-rise, fancy restaurant in the middle Manhattan.

It had so happened, Waverider was in the city for a bit, so Landmine decided to take him to one of his favorite restaurants.

It was times like this he was happy to be not just a human, but one with a very decent salary.

The lights of the city twinkled like a sea of stars tied to the ground, canceling out the vast number of stars that both of them knew hung high in the sky…out in space…

“It’s been too long for you, hasn’t it?” 

 Landmine jolted a bit a he heard Waverider’s voice, gaze snapping back to him and away from the city below. He watched him reach out and pick up his glass, tracing the edge of it with a finger. 

“Me too, Lander,” Waverider said, so quietly it could have been to himself, “Me too.” 

Yes, he agreed, internally, looking back out the window.  

It’d been quite literally ages since they’d been able to resume their missions, flying around the galaxy…they’d been in human bodies for so many years, it almost felt like a distant memory–the war, or that they belonged to a whole other world. 

Considering how long they'd been forced to remain on earth so far–as their superiors felt it best to just station the team on earth rather than provide or allow them a means to come back to Cybertron–he was fairly open to that notion. Perhaps it was better it all remained a vague memory, put behind him for good.

Life on earth wasn't perfect, but it had a lot of its own good moments. In some ways, it was better than Cybertron, he'd concluded.

And despite what he knew many of his kind would think, he didn't feel guilty at all for feeling that way.

He remembered the day their stasis pods reactivated, opening his optics to a bright light floating in a crystal blue sky, and realizing he was unharmed, and still alive. 

The flood of hope like no other, that had caused him to remain motionless for quite a while before he finally left his pod. 

But what had felt like such a distant memory wasn’t just the war itself. 

 “Hey,” he said taking another sip of the sparkling white liquid in his glass. “I’ve missed talking to you like this. Just sitting together...”

He watched Waverider lean back to down the rest of his glass before responding. 

“You said it.”

“We should…get together more often,” he found himself saying. The music playing faintly on the speakers stopped for a moment as he spoke. 

He watched Waverider smile, but felt his heart tighten as it registered what kind of smile it was. This was familiar. Quite familiar. 

Another song started to play overhead. Something about romance. 

“I’d…be open to that,” he said at last, looking out the window. Even amidst the medium-level noise of the restaurant, his sudden silence seemed to shout at Landmine. 

Should I not have...?

Landmine sighed and reached out a hand, letting his fingers rest on his friend’s. 

The warm, semi-dim lighting of the restaurant painted the strangers at the tables behind them in orange shadows. The yellow of the overhead lighting shimmered faintly in the depths of Waverider's soft blue eyes. 

He looked out the window again, too, eyes caught by the sight of a skyscraper flashing a bright yellow light in some practiced sequence. 

He found it wonderful and intriguing that even after all these years watching civilization build itself into the modern day, there were still some things he’d never know about daily life. 

Or it might be a broken light. 

Another memory suddenly greeted him. 

The one where he went to check Waverider’s pod first, instinctively, and moment he realized how afraid he’d been when Waverider finally opened his eyes, the glass sliding away immediately, letting him sit up.

 “We’re up first! How wild is that?” He’d said, dropping down to a kneeling position to be eye-level with him. Waverider blinked once, twice, then chuckled. 

“Pretty wild.” He leaned forward and touched foreheads with Landmine. “So, hey.”

“Hey.”

“I’m seeing you again. I told you we’d see each other soon…”

“I know…”

Suddenly, the hand beneath his shifted to grip back, pulling him from his memory and into the present again. The smile that he saw across the table was different again, looking happier than before. 

I just don’t know how to tell you...

 “Can I come to your office tomorrow, then?” 

 Landmine smirked, feeling his own playful nature return in full. 

 “Only if you let me pick out your outfit–and you throw out that awful tie!” 

“By the Primes, Lander–”

“No, I'll even buy the stuff for you. It’ll be my treat,” He insisted, starting to laugh. “The people at my office will kick you out if you walk in with that uncoordinated kind of style!” 

“Oh, then you must have experience in that field,” Waverider joked back, motioning at Landmine’s signature burgundy jacket. 

He had the most smug grin on his face.

“My good sir, I’ll have you know that–” 

But he didn’t finish his sentence.

He’d broken off abruptly, just staring at Waverider for a moment. The clamor of people around them seemed to fade out.

Unsure as to whether it was the wine he'd been drinking or something else entirely, he felt like something was...pulling at him, and he found himself leaning closer and closer until…

Another memory flashed through his mind’s eye. It was of his first experience with a kiss. 

Landmine was sitting in his office, typing away at his laptop. He'd been working at a paper company while he looked for a better job, having set his sights on moving to New York.

He was filling out his application for a position as head of sales at an automotive dealer when he felt a tap on the shoulder.

In the reflection of his computer screen, he could see Waverider's figure before he felt him lean over and rest his head on his shoulder.

"Hey," he murmured, grinning. "Shouldn't you be in a meeting?"

His partner didn't respond, instead leaning over and pressing his lips gently against Landmine's cheek. The blonde froze, obviously startled by the gesture.

Then at last, he cleared his throat, looking up at Waverider, who still had a large smile on his face. He was sure he was flushed, but tried to play it cool.

"And you did that…why?”

“It’s a human custom,” Waverider explained, laughing. “Its called kissing. Saw someone in my office do it with their partner, and I've seen it hundreds of times before that, but didn't know what it was."

"And that is?" He watched Waverider draw back a bit, tapping his chin in thought.

"How do I say...well, it's like...it means affection, or that you care for someone.”

"Alright..." Landmine was still confused, however. “But, I mean...is it platonic or romantic?”

Waverider shrugged. Then, leaned over to kiss Landmine's cheek again.

"That's...up to us, I guess..."

Whatever you wanted it to be, a kiss was. 

Well, he didn't know what this kiss was, but...he knew it felt right. It was better than any word he could speak, or gesture he could make.

And after a moment, he and Waverider leaned back, sat back down, quiet again. But, not an uncomfortable silence. 

He watched his companion smile, start to blush. The dimples in his face showed themselves as he smiled back at him. He ruffled his brownish-blonde hair with one hand, starting to giggle a little. 

Landmine knew it wasn’t going to be long before Waverider would have to return to his job, leaving New York again. They’d be lonely again, even if they called and messaged…

But maybe what they had...didn't need some kind of label, or name. A commitment or a friendship or...something deeper than that...whatever this was.

This still felt alright. As it always had. Something told him Waverider felt that, too. 

He and Waverider had since had many long talks about their academy days. Everything had been laid out, brought up, acknowledged and forgiven.

They had come to understand one another so deeply in all their years since coming to Earth, but especially now, as humans in this current time of peace. 

“No matter what you do, or who you’re with," Waverider murmured, beaming, "I’ll always be here for you. I know I've said that before, but...eh, it's worth saying again.” 

"I know."

"I'm glad!" He laughed again.

He was certainly a little drunk, sure but, he was always like this, Landmine thought.

Waverider had always been a relaxed and fun-loving soul.

“Connected sparks...always find their way back together no matter what, don’t they?” Landmine remarked, flicking a fingertip against his plate.

He felt warm, all the way inside himself, not from the meal or the heater, but...from something else.

Waverider blinked in some surprise for a moment, seeming to take in the words, processing them, before the smile returned to his features.

“Yeah...they really do.”

And, suddenly Landmine took notice of the speaker overhead, as it had started playing something else while they spoke. 

It was a song about humanity–something he and the other Pretenders had learned slowly but surely, was quite relative to what they’d known all their lives.

The truth of existence, which Landmine had found and continued to find with every passing day. 

That it's alright, to be as one is–imperfect, yet persevering.

Bringing what one can to the table of life, giving, speaking, loving and experiencing it all. 

That in that imperfection, life itself was good–contrary of course, to what he’d learned in the Cybertronian Military Academy, which had been wrong about many other things as well. 

Life in many forms, which seeks friendships and connections between others, in its funny, social nature.

Nothing quite in idealistic purity, and often happy in that manner of existing.

That, which altogether, made it truly beautiful to be alive, especially on this Earth.

///

[alasanlain]

I finished college, here's what I learnt.

June, this year, was the final month of college for me. It took me five and a half years to finish the entire curriculum, and during those times I did learn a lot.

No, this won't be a snarky thing where I'll say: nothing valuable was learnt at all during college! Because despite the overwhelming urge of saying that, I think being dismissive of all the good things college has taught me is dishonesty.

For my first year, I thought going into college was a mistake. Everything felt really out of place for me. I felt like I couldn't trust anyone, and that everyone is out for themselves.

I was right, of course, everyone did have their own goals, they are out for themselves. This is because I am no longer bound in the "high school" environment, where the goals were set by the teachers: essentially a higher power. Because of that, I feel lost.

One thing I really held on to from my first year is the allegory of the sea. My senior told me that being in college is like jumping on a large body of water, or the sea. Whether you decide to back out, keep swimming, or stay and drown, you're wet anyhow. Might as well.

That phrase, "might as well", is etched in my heart all the way until graduation.

What I like about the allegory is that it tactfully, and unknowingly, also describe how I felt at that time: lost, not knowing what to do, and facing a huge new reality. That was until third semester rolls in. I think, because of how new I was to the experience, I expected something different. But because the curriculum for new students in my college is very similar to high school, I also have a lingering harmful nostalgia to my days in school.

I remember talking to my parents about college. I said to them that nobody in there (my campus) is worth my time. My seniors only speak in jargons, and my classmates are not friendly at all.

So, first years taught me about despair. It's something I have never truly experienced before. Thankfully, I grit my teeth and told myself that this too, shall pass. That everything is going to be okay tomorrow, and that everyone will wake up the same way.

Truthfully, I would love to return back as a freshman. Experiencing that despair again, one that made me appreciate how melancholic some things can be. I wouldn't change a thing, cringy and all. The things I did during my freshmen years were the building blocks of who I am today.

Once the third semester rolls around, we started to develop our own interests in the specifics. We take the same classes, but it is evident that our pathways are going to separate one day. This is actually a good thing, because now for the first time I actually felt like a college student.

Things were sailing smoothly for now. I learnt little things like scientific writing, organizations, and further time management. My decision of joining an organization was a good one in my opinion. It led me to understand my friends and my seniors more. They are humans after all, not some mythical creature I imagined them to be.

Complex as they are, the more I hang out with them the more I appreciate their existence. I no longer view them as tropes or characters. I think of them as human beings. Flawed, personal, subjective, and beautiful human beings.

We will now move on further to the future, passing through the fourth and fifth semester. Honestly, because there weren't any significant events happening in those two semesters, I feel like I don't need to mention them. I was comfortable, something must happen to shake things up.

Something did happen.

I don't think anything can top the slow burn of the COVID-19 pandemic. It starts slowly, news from all the way over in China, people celebrating the "two-weeks" off campus, making plans with friends on how to spend those off period. But then it hits us all.

Two weeks turns into a month, and a month turns into a semester. I still remember the literal final days of me going to a physical college class as a bachelor. It was a Monday; we were studying Plant Genetics.

The professor ended the lecture by saying his plans of teaching us something later at 13:00 or the practical period of the course, but then after we all went downstairs, he called me. He told me that the dean passed an internal note to cease offline classes for the day and that the morning class we just had is the last class, effective immediately.

I passed this message to my friends, and we were a bit ecstatic. Especially those who are known to skip classes, they were over the moon. Seems like at the time we all view the pandemic as something trivial, something that may be large but will pass as soon as it comes.

Have you ever felt like you're in a loop? Like a dream you're in where, as soon as you wake up, you manage to find yourself in another dream. The desperation you feel at that moment and the want to escape the loop. Imagine that for an entire year.

During the pandemic, I did attend classes, but I have to admit around half of the times I fell asleep. I remember it was always a hot and humid day, and because of that every time I nod off on a class it turns into a full-blown nap.

At first it wasn't a habit, but habits form out of convenience. If an action is done repeatedly enough with no breaks from the inertia, it will become a habit. My habit was sleeping in the morning.

I won't get into a weird tangent where I would condemn morning sleep and what not. But if the previous wish were to be granted, and I were to relive the pandemic again, I would definitely avoid this habit.

See, because sleeping in the morning really makes you feel groggy afterwards. You essentially feel like you're missing out on something, but you have no idea what. This is worse because since it's the pandemic, there really is nothing to do.

All of this culminated in me doing absolutely nothing for an entire year.

At the time I chalked it up to depression. A direct result of confusion and a whole new environment. But doing so for an entire year broke me. Add to that my friends are graduating one by one.

I am not one to hold anything against my friends. I am not envious of them. However, I do feel like it is unfair. Like the sea allegory before, seems like they found their islands earlier than me.

It's possible, maybe, that they have a bit of help here and there. A raft to go with, a ship sailing around them, anything to reach the other side. For me, I felt alone.

Loneliness is powerful. Because humans are social creatures by design, and your brain could be imbalanced enough to feel loneliness and experience it without the knowledge of why. This is what happens to me for two years.

The final stretch of my college life is filled with that feeling. Loneliness. I feel like a pariah because my parents kept asking me about my grades and how I'm doing. This is until I decided to just say fuck it. Might as well.

I tried to sort things up, do my thesis, and everything I needed to do in order to actually finish college. Then it happened. Like wisps of air, breezing like nothing at all.

I graduated.

It wasn't a fanfare; it wasn't much of a celebration. All I did was attend graduation ceremonies and go home. I did take pictures with my family, so that's something. We rarely do that.

Maybe it is special, in its own way. Maybe I feel like it's a breeze because I haven't had time to really let it sink in yet. Maybe it really is nothing at all.

But to be honest, five and a half years is a long time. In that stretch of time, I did a lot of things. Many of them still haven't had their proper "end" yet.

This post is meant to be an effigy I burn to let my college go. The despair I felt in the start, the happiness of the middle, and all the blur of the end. I have finished my bachelor's degree, and I may be allowed to feel a bit more relaxed than before.

Wish You Were Here, Eosolpeun.

[zukotheartist]

Hiii :) i need a bit of help

(Ik i said i wouldnt do rant posts here but this one is also advice seeking? So we'll let it slide this time)

It's about uni and mental health and jobs, etc and just overall oversharing lmao. Feel free to skip ofc lol but if anyone has some advice/opinions to share, im all ears.

Basically, i just really don't know what to do with my life💀. I even took a gap year in between hs and uni to decide and ig it still didnt work😭.

I'm in uni studying languages (mandarin, portuguese and japanese) and the language part is going well so far, I guess? (And I do like it!). I even like a few of the other subjects (some of them i only have them for 1 semester so theyre not major subjects) but i really just cant handle it???

I wasn't happy with my choice in the sense that I think my job prospects after uni won't be great but I knew I wouldn't be able to handle anything else (im terrible at stem and most high-paying jobs require it lol + i have depressive episodes 24/7💀 and im pretty sure i have adhd*). But even picking smth i like and am not terrible at (not great at either but at least it's not math lol) im not able to handle it???

I was trying really hard at first, i didn't want to fuck this up, but the rhythm needed is just... way too much for someone who stuggled all throughout hs and has shit mental health.

I managed to work hard for a bit (studying everyday after class, doing 8hr study sessions during the weekend, revising quickly while waiting in line, etc) but then i let loose (or even went full days/weeks with minimal amount of studying) bc it was so overwhelming and now im cramming like 2/3 months worth of 3 different subjects and my exams are in Jan/Feb (the first available dates on the 10th) and ill be lucky to pass a single one of them with the speed im going at.

Even on days i get up early to study and barely even look at my phone, it's just too much stuff and im not fast enough + i lack a lot of things bc of my slacking off in hs.

I go to uni in Italy and if you fall behind u have to pay more but ig it's better than putting all this effort and most of all money to then just drop out and be left degreeless?

But I feel so freaking terrible bc i literally dont even work part-time or anything and i still live with my parents and theyre the ones paying for all of my stuff basically? So to add a higher cost bc i couldnt keep up with uni🥲 but then, if i take a part-time job, ill be making some money but uni will be going even worst and itll still be a waste of money???

I've talked to multiple therapists/psychiatrists, asking them even for LIGHT anxiety meds and *all* of them have refused (I also made it clear that I would still go to therapy even if I got meds but nothing).

Studying calms me down a bit but even tho ive started doing it daily again and for hours on end, im still akskdkdkrkr

Ill talk to my family and my therapist but i honestly dont know wtf to do with my life. Ik the whole "dont cry over spilled milk" thing but i really wish i could re-do hs to not be in this fucking mess.

It doesn't really help that my only goal in life is to make a lot of money bc i think ill be alone (both romantically and platonically) forever but with the way it's going, ill be lucky to get a minimum wage one (im not saying it as a diss, those are respectable jobs too but like i said, my only goal is to make money so i can live comfortably and distract myself from my depression lmao).

This is all very specific and i doubt anyone responds (let alone reads) but if anyone does read, tysm for reading this sad long rant🫂🫂🫂. I pretty much wont be able to see my therapist until just a bit before my exams so this was also my way to let out some frustration.

.

.

.

*Ive tried to get an official diagnosis, and it's fine if im wrong ofc, but i was immediately denied and told that couldnt be it... bc of my age lmao💀

[midoriima]

NARUTO CHARACTERS AS HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS

warnings: online school, profanity, not proofread, nothing too bad.

naruto would definitely be that student who always has his camera on but isn't shy about doing anything. yawning? yeah, he'll open his mouth as wide as he can. sneezing? he won't turn off his cam. "i mean, it would be the same as in irl so i don't see the problem?"

sakura is the class vice president and pretty much everyone just relies on her when a teacher asks questions. like literally when people are turning on their cams, she has it on and one thing about it is that she just looks so pretty?? it could be right at 7 in the morning but she looks fresh. excels in sciences.

sasuke is that student who does not give a single fuck about how he looks. he could be looking like his form in his curse mark level 2 but he couldn't give even a slight fuck about it. people definitely make fun of him, especially naruto, but everyone eventually gives up since it won't get a reaction from him.

sai is that student who just draws in class, or just doodles. does listen in class but when the teacher asks him something, it’s always when he’s so focused on his drawings then he’ll just, “what?” definitely that student every teacher knows just draws in class.

shikamaru is that other student that everyone relies on to answer questions but sometimes he won't answer for the fun of it (even though he'll just say, "what a drag" afterwards and does answer to get the teacher to move on). in the school groupchat, everyone's asking him for help and he does help. he's definitely the president in the class.

choji hates maths. sometimes doesn't even attend maths classes because he hates it a lot. maybe naruto as well, they both plan it and ditch classes to do something else. won't do it consecutively and tries not to make a pattern so that the teacher doesn't notice and thinks it's bad signal or an electricity problem.

ino's diligent as well. class secretary and the one who responds, "no questions, "yes," etc. when everyone's just so done with all the "are there any questions" or "did everyone understand" questions from the teacher. i can see her as someone who loves sciences as well but hates chemistry. would khs if she had to study it again.

neji's another smart one in the class, has nothing but neutral feelings to all classes but doesn't like showing his face/keeping his camera on. "i don't get why we need to have our cams on, it's not like the teacher's going to die if we don't show our faces," but does show his face once in a while. has specific classes he'll show his face and the others where he won't.

tenten definitely loves history. i can see her being all interested in it and definitely shows her love for the subject. she excels most in history and her test results are outstanding. although i can also see her as that one student who's excellent in all except for that one subject that couldn't get her to make it to the honours/high honours roll.

lee is that student who gets so motivated to do school work and romaticise it even when it’s still two weeks before the actual first day. does homework like his life depends on it. unwavering motivation that lasts until the last week of school. definitely a top student but couldn’t get to the honours roll. or more like, he didn’t appear on the honour’s roll because he thought the school would add in students automatically.

kiba has that same motivation lee has until it decreases by the third semester. he starts despising school by then and keeps complaining about schoolwork and threatening absolutely no one that he’d stop doing his homework yet submits everything on time. that student you barely see around in the classroom but starts fights in groupchats.

hinata is another top student. does complain about homework, specifically maths, but in the end, understands. has failed at least two maths exams. she’s that one student everyone, not just in the class, but the whole school, knows is shy. stutters a lot in live presentations but everyone cheers her on to give her more confidence.

shino is that student almost nobody knows what looks like. doesn’t turn on his camera until scolded or wants to, or there’s an exam. he did start to show his face more when he found out almost nobody knew what he looked like.

[minsugallery]

Eternal Fire

Part Of:

‘Seven Deadly Sins’ Collaboration Introduction & Rules | @yutasgalaxy

‘Seven Deadly Sins’ Stories Masterlist | @sugasbabiie

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Credit for Banner: Dee Dee 🥺 @sugasbabiie

Summary: Taehyung, the Demon of the Sin of Greed, has a right to be just that - greedy. It’s embedded in him, and it’s not something you can work away. You’ve come to love him with all his sin, and yet, you are still astonished at what being so greedy about something - or in this case, someone, - can entail. But you can’t really complain, especially when he’d already told you many years ago that he won’t ever let you go…

Genre: Royal!AU, Demon!AU, Established Relationship!AU, Marriage!AU, Fluff!AU, Fluff-Smut!AU, Smut!AU

Pairings: Seven Deadly Sins Demon!Taehyung x Human (Turned Eternal Soulmate)! Reader, Sin of Greed!Taehyung x Reader

Warnings: Cursing/Swearing, Possessiveness (There is a Stronger Element of Possessiveness Here, But It’s Not Unhealthy), Harassment (Nothing Too Major or Detailed, A Guy Tries to Get Handsy W/ Y/N), Strong Sexual Themes, Nudity, Fingering, Biting, Marking, Bond-Marks, Mentions of Blood (Just a Tiny Bit Because of the Bonding)

Word Count: 2,618

Written: September 19, 2021, Posted: October 31, 2021 [Happy Halloween!]

“Taehyung!” You call out as you stride forward towards him, “What is going on?” You climb your way up the stairs to his throne while he sits calmly and stares back at your form that’s in a sort of panicked worry, — though his eyes do in fact insinuate that he is anything but calm at this moment. Although, you can’t say you expect anything less from your husband.

“What’s going on is that this man here,” he nudged his head towards the restrained man surrounded by the soldiers at the bottom of the stairs you had passed, “is about to understand what happens when he tries to touch my wife.”

“Taehyung…” you start to sigh out but he stops you, putting his hand out for you to take, which you do immediately. He pulls you down into his lap gently before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close, burying your face into his neck with one hand and inhaling the scent of your hair. You simply close your eyes and relax into him as your hands loop around his torso. Your soulmate tends to have that effect on you. He always has and you’re sure he always will.

Taehyung met you during his time on Earth. He was there because of his still unyielding curiosity and thirst for new experiences. He wanted to know what it truly felt like to live the life of a human. And he knew it wouldn’t feel like he was flawless as he was the literal embodiment of one of the seven sins humans face in their daily lives. So, as the embodiment of Greed, he wanted to go through life as a regular and functional citizen of this popular planet.

He made sure to dress as the modern humans and to speak the local language — he decided on South Korea. The way of the people there intrigued him as he loved the mixture of the old and the new in an era centered on technology.

Taehyung had already decided the minute he arrived that he would be starting at the first year of college and going through all four years. He also decided that he would be getting a major in Philosophy and a minor in Contemporary Literature. As such, one of the philosophy classes he had to take was two semesters long and, ironically enough, focused specifically on the Seven Deadly Sins. This was where he met you. He ended up getting your attention with the way that he had answered the first question he was picked to answer.

It was the beginning of the year and it was the first time Taehyung had been called on to answer a question about the Sin of Pride. And despite the way you’d seen him always relaxing and never take notes as he constantly fiddled with his notebook or drew random illustrations, he gave an answer much more in depth and detailed than any notes you could’ve possibly taken with information you’re sure you wouldn’t even find in the farthest depths of the internet.

This started an extremely special bond between the two of you which kickstarted off of you requesting him to be your partner for an upcoming project. It had started off as an extremely close friendship, and as the two of you found more and more and more in common, you’d slowly found your friendship also changing into something a little more intimate.

As you’d started college as compete strangers, you’d then continued through college as lovers. You’d changed living arrangements already to be in the same dorm as each other, always using only one bed despite the fact that there were two and squeezing yourselves together on the same pillow with you inevitably ending up on top of your then boyfriend rather than actually on the bed, one of his hands being around your waist and the other always tangled in your hair or having a firm hold on the nape of your neck. You’d been inseparable, and you still are. This had never changed, even when Taehyung had understood that he had to come clean to you about who he really was.

Of course, you did slightly panic when he first told you the truth about his identity, but in Taehyung’s opinion, you recovered rather well. He chose to tell to you in the nighttime inside your shared dorm room — it was private, intimate, and nobody could bother the two of you inside these four walls.

He started off holding your hands and then proceeded to unceremoniously blurt it out in his nervousness. And at first, you had giggled slightly, asking him not to joke around like that, but then as he looked at you with a straight face and eyes more serious than you’d seen in a while, you slowly sat up straighter, hands gently pulling themselves out of his and going to be cradled in your lap, an action that Taehyung still remembers clearly to have made his heart feel like it was ripped out of his chest and dropped down a cliff into a bed of jagged rocks. It broke his hurt even further when he showed you his magic when you asked for proper proof and your eyes widened with an emotion he hadn’t ever seen you direct at him — fear.

Taehyung also still remembers how quiet you’d been, although he swears he could hear your mind moving and performing a trillion operations every nanosecond. He still remembers how despite your subtle fear and panic, you never actually ran, or screamed, or yelled. No, instead, you sat there for a while for before letting out a tentative whisper of curiosity, “Was everything between us a lie, then?” But you knew you that wasn’t true the minute Taehyung reached out to hold your shoulders begging you to believe that if anything of this genuine, that it was the way he was around you. He swore to you that everything you saw of his personality was all truly him. And you didn’t doubt that for a minute.

This conversation stretched out over the length of the night, going into the sunrise of the next morning. Over this period, you asked a million questions and received a full answer of each one, Taehyung promising you that he wouldn’t hide anything from you and would always tell you the truth, never giving you obscured responses no matter how detailed or personal your questions may have been — you deserved to have him open his heart to you, exactly like you had done for him. That’s what lovers do, they trust each other.

And as Taehyung gave you more answers about everything, — his childhood, his family, his duty, responsibility, existence, and more, — he found that instead of running away, you’d actually found yourself nestled into his arms again, a blanket over the two of you as you fiddled with his fingers, interlocking them with your own and burying your face into neck as you pressed gentle kisses here and there. It gave him quiet comfort. This was your way of silently telling him that you weren’t going anywhere. This was the note on which you both ended that day — still in love and still together, but more confident, more assured, more open.

“I’m not leaving, Taehyung. I love you. And I trust you. I understand why you might keep something like this secret, but not again, alright?” He grabbed your face in his hands, placing multiple kisses all over and finding that none of them sufficed.

“Never again, my darling,” he breathed out, “never again. I swear to you that I won’t keep anything a secret anymore. You know everything that I do, and I will make sure that is how it will always be. I’m sorry, so so sorry.”

You had placed your own hands over his. “No more apologies. I love you too, so much.”

He leaned into you, “I promise you, I’ll never let you go. Never. You’ll be mine, always.”

College life had then continued on peacefully for a while, until a few days before graduation where Taehyung had proposed to you, asking you to be his wife. It was a time where you were silent for so long that Taehyung had started filling his head with negative thoughts of what he imagined was going to be your inevitable rejection. It was why he had started crying tears of joy, shock, and relief when you had let out a crackly ‘Yes’ and promptly dropped to your knees to fall into him and squish him as close to you as possible.

Your wedding ended up happening on Earth. Taehyung admired some of the scenery he had found there and had also wanted your wedding to be in the world you had grown up in. It was a quiet ceremony — some of your friends, the other Six Lords of Sin having also joined on Taehyung’s behalf as they oversaw the proceedings and enjoyed the celebrations.

Taehyung did, of course, explain to you that you would be moving into the Underworld with him after the marriage. He explained how there are the Eight Layers of Hell, the first being Limbo and the others being controlled each by one of the Seven Deadly Sins. He told you that you would be in the Fourth Layer, the Layer of Greed, and that you would be ruling it by his side as his Queen, his Lady, his Wife.

You found that things were much more organized than as viewed in Dante’s depiction and that the Sin of Greed lived rather luxuriously, as you were sure the other Lords of Sin also did. You were turned immortal at the gates of Hell where Heaven and Hell both recognized your union as you walked in. You learned that it was because they could recognize the blood and soul bond that made you Taehyung’s wife, a thought that had made — and still does make — you blush as you recalled the way in which he had bitten into your neck and suckled at the droplets of blood that leaked from the wound, binding him to you and you to him for eternity.

The immortality ensured that you lived alongside your soulmate till the end of time as the both of you ruled the Fourth Circle of Hell together, loving each other eternally — a never-ending bond. You were brought out of your recollection when Taehyung pressed a firm kiss to your temple.

“Taehyung,” you muffle out from where your face is buried in his neck, “I’m fine, really. He didn’t do anything. You stopped him before he could.”

You were strolling through the palace gardens, taking in the burgundy and black roses as well as the evergreens that made the place so breathtakingly gorgeous. As you were, a man had come up on you, a lost soul no doubt, probably having escaped from the Gates and landed up here. Taehyung had explained to you that sometimes, new souls who couldn’t comprehend being sent to Hell tried to escape and that they always ended up in one of the other Circles. “This happens extremely rarely,” your husband had explained, “and they’re always caught almost immediately, a couple hours at the most. They’re easy to track down.”

The man came up to you, looking you up and down in a way that had unnerved you. Then he let out a grin that you could only describe to be absolutely threatening. “Hello there,” he slowly crept up to you as you kept backtracking. He then quickly grabbed your arms before you could make any move to run, “I didn’t know something so gorgeous could be found in the depths of Hell.” You continued to squirm, attempting to get out of his hold and scream for Taehyung as he pulled you closer, when suddenly, the man froze, looking somewhere behind you instead. You turned around and let out a sigh of relief as you spotted Taehyung, albeit he was fuming and no doubt very close to snapping this man’s neck from the way he hands were twitching.

Taehyung had held you for a few hours after that, falling asleep together before you woke up to see he was gone from your bed, leading you to his throne room where he conducted all trials, although you knew there would be no debate that these are simply the pleasantries before an inevitable execution. You can’t expect to touch the Wife of Greed and expect to live, after all.

“It doesn’t matter whether he did anything or not, my love.” Taehyung stressed out. “He touched you, Y/N. How dare he? Who the bloody hell is he to touch my Queen? He doesn’t even deserve to look at you, and yet he lays his horrid fingers on you. You’re mine. You’re only mine. Nobody can touch you but me, and nobody can look at you but me. And not only did he do both, but also frightened you. He deserves nothing but a slow, painful, terrible death. And that, I can promise him.”

Taehyung’s gaze remained steady on the man as he cowered, the chains around him yanked harder by the soldiers to keep him still. Taehyung waved his hand for the soldiers and they dragged the man away as he continued to scream and cry and beg for mercy, though as you looked within yourself, you found that you felt no mercy for this man, and that instead, your focus was entirely on your husband, your eyes locked with his own as you moved your hands to tangle in hair and pull him in for a searing kiss. You couldn’t ever get enough of this man. The way he cared for you, knew when something was bothering you, the way he claimed you as his, it all burned into a tight ball of arousal in your stomach.

You let out a breathy moan when he snuck his tongue into your mouth, one of his hands going to squeeze at your waist. Just as you never got enough of him, Taehyung doesn’t think he can go even a couple of hours without constantly feeling your touch. Now that he’s gotten a taste of you, he knows you’re a drug he’ll never recover from — not that he wants to, really. He snapped his fingers quickly, moving you to your chambers in a blur, the curtains drawing shut, the French double doors locking, and the main chandelier at the center of the ceiling lighting up. He dropped you on the bed as he climbed over you, your hands bracing themselves on his shoulders as he carelessly ripped through your clothing to expose your body to him.

“You’re gorgeous, darling.” He kissed down your neck and stopped at your stomach for a second, “and you’re all mine.”

“Only yours,” you assure breathlessly as he slowly dips a finger into your cunt.

“I promised you before, that I would never let you go,” he adds another finger and curls them into you, having you arch your back as he leans into your neck, biting at your bonding mark again. “I intend to keep that promise my love, for all of time.”

“You are mine, and mine alone.” It’s a promise you’ve heard from your husband’s lips a million times and every single it time it never fails to make you preen under him and melt into a puddle.

“So greedy,” you still tease him as he chuckles and makes you let out another whine when he picks up his pace, curling and uncurling his fingers inside of you.

“For you, always, my love. Always.”

[mariamariquinha]

Meetings and Greetings (Jonathan Levy x f!reader) - Part 1

Part 2

Summary: You and Jonathan met because of Tulsidas.

Word count: 2.897.

Warnings: Mentions about divorce, bad words, maybe a few academic terms, consumption of legal drugs and talks about Jainism/Bhudism. There’s nothing to worry about here, I guess, but don’t expect Jonathan to be... I don’t know. It can have a pinch of angst.

Author’s Note: This is very self indulgent because being a college teacher is literally my career. Yeah. Anyway. I did a personal research about Tulsidas and Jainism, so I’M TRULY SORRY if any of my considerations here are wrong on some level, that's why I even mentioned it superficially so as not to talk nonsense. 

Ah, this will have a second part. When? Well... It will happen. Don’t worry. 

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

****

You always knew Jonathan, but you’d never met him.

He would share a ‘hi’ or ‘good morning’ while entering the teacher’s room, like a salute to everyone and no one in general, or a small ‘excuse me’ to find a seat, and leave with nothing but a hot cup of coffee in hand. Of course that didn't stop you from noticing him; after all, you two worked in the same department and he made good use of his reputation as a professor. You respected him, just like you respected all the others. 

His divorce happened during your first year at the university; this information came as a gossip, a big occurrence there, but you tried to skip whatever speculation people would have to focus on this simple detail. You knew he was married, could even pinpoint that you saw her once or twice during small parties. Whatever happened, though, Jonathan looked tired, walking around the building with an even quieter demeanor, affecting his own performance with students, who began to complain.

“Jonathan, we know things have been complicated for you recently, but you’re one of my best guys here, okay? I need to be sure you’ll be able to keep going or…” 

This information came by accident, one that you could avoid but ended up paralyzing you in the hallway, one hand on the wall and the other on the books you were carrying. Your supervisor’ voice was condescendent, like gentle parenting a child – given the sigh you’d heard from Jonathan, probably, he was also well aware of that. 

If the talk had any effect on the man, you just knew that he decided to reduce his classes for a time, passing some of them to other colleagues while getting his shit together. Whatever happened in the meantime stayed a mystery even for the nosy ones. In months, Jonathan Levy turned into a ghost, allowing only small snippets of his appearances in hallways or meetings.

****

It was August. A new semester, new faces, and you’re already used to the experience of leading a full class then. You would start with special grades for Religion & Culture Studies, an offshoot of your research work for quite some time, and the idea of settling down on this field was starting to get in your good graces.  

That morning, you had forty or fifty students under your supervision for their introductory explanations of Jainism. You didn’t notice when someone came in through the side door of the room, although you could see a few students looking in that direction before turning their attention to you again. 

“For a very long time, Western researchers saw Jainism as a sect of Hinduism or a heresy of Buddhism, which isn't true considering…” Your voice faltered for a moment as you glanced toward the door, finding a serious, attentive Jonathan Levy standing there, clutching the bag strap slung over his shoulder. “... considering specific differences in their creation, reasoning and form of manifestation, despite sharing common elements.”

And he stayed there, silent, listening carefully just like the other students, not even daring to move from his spot. You talked, talked, talked, not losing your focus again for the sake of the class.

“Jiva Jago… It’s a song, right?” 

You gave him a small smile, gathering your things nonchalantly and not quite looking back. It was just the two of you, the remaining students were already heading towards the exit while he remained closer, making himself heard without raising his voice too much.

“From the Gitavali book, yes,” Gesturing at one of the books on the top of your desk, you could see him maneuvering the book to see the cover. “Do your students study Tulsidas?”

“Eventually,” The answer made you frown, which he noticed and rushed to explain, the book now forgotten. “Sanskrit ends up being more specific, not really my area. But in religious contexts it's worth the discussion.” 

“Mm, you’re right. That's for the boring teachers.” 

“You think?” He was grinning at your teasing, but you just shrugged.

“I think that by the end of the semester I will have ten very determined students here.” 

“What about the others?”

“Studying with cool teachers.” 

You stopped hearing about Jonathan for a very long time. No one found any funny or interest in talking about his personal life anymore, nor on the way he would show such a miserable appearance around the university. He got divorced, this you knew, and with time he got back to his old days of talking excitedly with the students and being on the level of praise from your supervisor.

As always, you watched him from a distance. Read his new articles, accompanied the interviews he would give to the university newspaper, heard a joke that he told someone and that someone told you. Him being in your class and talking to you was new, especially with the full smile he gave you. 

“I've been reading your work lately, you know,” He said and you raised your eyebrows at the comment. 

“Really?”

“Yeah, well, people like you more than you think around here. After hearing so many good things, I decided to see it for myself.” 

“I appreciate your consideration. Do you have any conclusions?” You crossed your arms over your chest, seeing him shrug and repeat the motion. 

“None that would do justice to your work,” A pause. “I just… It came to my mind that we never met. At least not properly since you started here.” 

“Oh no, Professor Levy, it's totally understandable. I would never take that as a personal offense.” 

“It's kind of you, but I insist on apologizing. The last year has been a little rough for me and I feel I was quite impolite.”

Oh. Well, it wasn’t a thing you’re expecting, but good to know he thought about it in the middle of so many problems happening in his life. 

“... Okay then. Apologies accepted.” 

“Good. Very good, in fact,” He extended his hand at you, offering a handshake that you gave. “See you around, Professor. Keep going with… Sanskrits.” 

“And you keep going at being the cool teacher.”

Did the handshake take a little longer than expected? Did he smile at you for a moment longer before walking away and leaving? You couldn't say, you couldn't even fool yourself into thinking you wouldn't do the same thing (and maybe you did). Jonathan was an intelligent, handsome guy… It wasn't that hard to feel warmed by the attention. 

You watched him leave the room and found yourself smiling into space for a while, which made you hesitate.

Don’t be ridiculous. 

****

Getting to know Jonathan was more than a fluke. He seemed as committed as you were to creating some friendly bond, and it took a while for you to stop associating your approach with any possible guilt about what you’d heard about him back then. Now and then, when time allowed, he would stop by one of your classes – sometimes until the end, other times for some minutes. It eventually led to him making small talks about your methodology, then full talks about what he was up to do with his students and vice versa.

You felt so involved with this subtle approximation that you didn't feel when the discussions turned to personal stuff. Memories from your time in college, plans for the holidays, movies you liked, music you listened to. You became… close. Friendly close. And maybe someone would look at you two laughing at something in the corridor or sitting beside each other during a lecture from the Department, but nothing came to your ears and you couldn’t care less if it did. Jonathan proved himself to be a funny guy, not limited by his work and respectful; a good company, of course. 

Took you a time to start with the attraction. Like, he was obviously a pretty man, a nice middle ground between someone who maintained a certain care for beauty and preferred something more natural, but you wouldn’t dare to put a finger on it for a lot of reasons. He was a colleague, maybe there was some rule about this type of thing, and more than that, he was divorced. You never asked how much of that past relationship affected him – personally, the age difference also left you a little apprehensive and in lack of hope; after all, he might prefer someone who was in the same age group (if he wanted someone at all).

The feeling stayed buried in your heart, untouched, invisible. Jonathan would touch your shoulder or look at you while listening to what you had to say, and that was the closest you got to keeping that feeling about him to go away.  

“I didn't see you at the congress this week,” He stood in front of your seated figure during the lunch break and when you raised your head, you saw him towering over you with a frown. 

Oh. The congress. You wish you could, for sure, it was the best way to find funding for your research work, and everyone you liked was there with panels or other interesting projects. But then your supervisor came with that stupid thing about restructuring some classes and the time you didn't have was reduced even further.

Maybe Jonathan noticed it. God, maybe everyone noticed your grumpy behavior, but now he was looking at you with a concerned expression and you sighed, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes to give him more than an ugly face. 

“I’m not participating in it.” 

“Not even as a visitor?”

“Let's just say I've been a little busier lately.” 

Explaining the situation to him was like taking a big weight from your shoulders. As always, he listened carefully, pulling a chair to sit at a certain point in your rant and giving nothing but a good pair of ears for you to wear off. 

“The thing is that I’m almost done, but sincerely I don’t know if I’ll have the energy to do anything for months now.” 

“Maybe you just need to take your mind out of work for a time,” He said in a low tone, which made you scoff. 

“How?” 

“I don’t know, there’s a lot of things you can do,” There was an hesitancy in his voice, as if he wanted to verbalize something but was thinking better of it. You waited, watching him bite his bottom lip in thought. “Why don’t we… Have a few drinks after this?”

You stared at him in awe, not daring to open your mouth and compromise yourself with any embarrassing thing. Well, this was… Okay. Drinks. You can have a few drinks. He’s Jonathan, right? And he wanted to help you. 

“Drinks?” The smile you gave him was genuine, making him tilt his head to the side and follow the movement of your face hiding in the palm of your hand. 

“Just a few.” 

“Yeah. Right. A few.” 

“We can set a limit, like, two whole bottles of wine. For each other, I mean.” 

You both laughed while you slapped his arm lightly for the teasing. 

****

“Since when did you smoke?” 

It was late, probably after midnight, but none of you were feeling able to leave the bar at that moment. With more than a few drinks, your head was buzzing with that good feeling of the alcohol letting you be more free, and Jonathan looked the same, even if he made a better half-drunk person than you, staying with the quiet side of this state of mind. 

The place was nice, not new but away from the university to prevent any student surprises. Nothing too fancy, nor cheap – balanced enough that you could wear a dress at least. And he was… Him. Blue t-shirt. Jeans. Glasses. Nothing out of ordinary until, of course, he asked if you would be okay to keep him company at the smoking area. 

“Disappointed?”

“Surprised, is all. I don’t think I’m in the position to be disappointed with you.” 

Then Jonathan stared at you, his face illuminated by the cigarette and the light coming from the inside. He watched your stance, per se, head to toe, taking in the hands behind your back that were supporting your body against the small rail, because you leaned back just a touch to look at the sky. It felt different. It was different. You weren’t in your job clothes, not a lot of fabric to cover your body and give you something to hide behind. 

In a way, the choice wasn’t intentional. You fully wanted to feel more able to fit in the place, to pretend you didn’t have work to do back in your apartment and to really make the encounter a night out. He has stayed indifferent from it since you arrived – well, at least until that moment. 

Then you would lie if you said that didn’t bring a specific warm on you.

“You put a lot of faith in me,” Jonathan blew the smoke out of his mouth.

“... You’re on the list of the ‘cool teachers’, Jonathan. This is more than proof of your competence as a person.”

“I should be the one cheering you up,” He turned his body to you lazily, eyes downcast from embarrassment. 

“We can do that with each other too.”

“Nah, I don’t think it’s fair. I’m just a miserable man who has no more solution.” 

“Don’t be so dramatic!” You grunted before searching for his face and giving him a better look. “Hindu spirituality: Post Classical and Modern, page… 80. There's no difference between knowledge and devotion, both of them save the soul from the miseries of worldly life.”

“Tulsidas, I suppose,” He teased.

“Mm-hm.”

“And how do you know that so clearly?”

“I just like this phrase enough to know it by heart.”

“Nerd,” With that, he gained a slap on the chest and there was a light laugh that easily turned into silence. For your luck, Jonathan turned his head to blow the smoke away from your face, because then you could look at him freely, without having his attention on you.

Yeah, definitely, he was such a beautiful man. His nose, his beard, the curls of his hair… You would blame the alcohol later, but for a moment, when he just leaned his head against the wall and stared at the sky as you had before, your eyes wandered on his features, taking in every detail you wouldn’t be able to see in other circumstances. 

You would blame the alcohol later, you repeated inside yourself. Hell, you would. But then he looked back at you, sensing your stare, and you just knew that if someone asked, if someone dared to ask why that moment of simple adoration filled you, your mouth would say something about the beers, but your mind would remind you that the only responsible for that was Jonathan – Jonathan and his beautiful face. 

“You look beautiful tonight,” He whispered, the cigarette long forgotten on the floor while he took a step closer, holding the side of your face with cold fingers as if it was the right next thing he should do. 

“Cheering me up?” 

“No,” A head shake. “It’s a statement. You look beautiful everyday, tonight is no exception, but… Back then I could stay at a distance.”

“Not now.”

“Not when you look at me like that.”

The first touch of his lips on yours was determined, even if a little tentative because it was really new for both of you. It felt also innocent, at least from the start, when he limited himself to taste just your lips. Gently, you pulled him closer by his neck, which he reciprocated with his arms circling your waist and his tongue brushing your lips to deep the kiss. 

The abrupt stop made you gasp. Jonathan stood a few feet away from you, a hand on his mouth and it didn't take you long to feel the first wave of rejection by the way he looked suddenly surprised. 

You wanted to say something – you should say something. He was standing there, really creating a big distance between you both, as if you’re some kind of plague he needed to stay away immediately. Being really honest, you would cry if the shock wasn’t so paralyzing. 

“Jon-”

“Nn-nn. No, just… I… I’m sorry, this…” His voice was firm and he paced back and forth a few times with indecision. “... Sorry. Really. Let’s just… I’ll take you home.”

Huh?

“What are you talking about?”

“This shouldn’t have happened, we… It’s not right.” 

Right. Not right. Okay. 

Then the tears came, but you didn’t dare to let it show in front of him. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, thinking about what to say, and trying to avoid looking at his regretful face as much as possible.

“... I can do it myself.”

“No, at least let me-”

“Fuck off, Jonathan,” Your voice was bitter and full of a specific type of pain. “Just… Let me go.”

And he did. He fucking did. It made you more angry because, at the end of the day, after all you could ever imagine for a good relationship with him, he gave you a taste of heaven just to throw you in the dirt right after. 

If you cried in regret that night, he wouldn’t have the pleasure to know. 

****

Taglist

@paintlavillered

[alluringjae]

until dawn - ljn

part I | part II

⤑ summary: basic number one rule of the museum is not to touch the art. but no one told jeno that falling for one of them isn’t allowed either.

⤑ pairing: jeno x female reader

⤑ word count: 14k

⤑ genre: fluff, humor, angst | broke architecture major!jeno, historical figure!reader, college!au

⤑ warnings: jaemin mentions onlyfans as a joke, references to actual historical figures (some try to flirt with jeno lol) and literature, explicit language

⤑ author’s note: wow, i’ve had this idea for almost two years! this one was inspired by one of my favorite childhood movies, night at the museum. it definitely required a lot of research and brainstorming, and finally i brought it to life! it was so fun to play around with the characters, and even if majority of them are real people, this is all still fiction.

i also wanna mention one of my moots, marge for enlightening me about her life as an architecture major.

⤑ taglist: @renjunniehome​ (dm me if you want to be added) 

⤑ leave me some feedback, constructive criticism or hellos!

Dormitory rent was another thing to worry about aside from the inflated university tuition per semester. Although he’s lucky to have his parents backing him up already on it, paying the monthly rent for his dorm was the remaining objective on Jeno’s list.

Plus, money for food. The man was a heavy eater, following the whole “gym is life” mantra.

Splitting it already with two of his dorm mates turned best friends, Renjun and Jaemin, his plate felt lighter. But the question still lies: where on earth was he going to get the money?

He’s practically checked out every available part-timing job in university and anywhere near campus. Barista at the same café Jaemin works at, teaching assistant for an art school for kids, convenience store cashier, library assistant, all taken in a heartbeat. The burden of his friends paying his debt these past months took a toll on him, almost to the point he almost considered making an Onlyfans.

“Yah, just find something else! Part-timers are in demand right now!” Renjun intensely closed his laptop before his older friend gets any suggestive thoughts.

“I mean, you didn’t work out your body to look the way it is for nothing.” Jaemin pitched otherwise, lifting the front back up. “When do you want to start filming? Loads of chicks would dig a piece of you!”

The contradicting opinions of his friends were like the devil and angel debating on his shoulders. Useless, he gave this worry a rest and returned to drawing new plates. A common thing when you’re an architecture major. Those deadlines were nearing. Looks like he’ll pull another all-nighter again.

Good thing most of his classes were late in the morning until 6 pm.

As if someone from above heard his petition, Jeno saw a help wanted sign posted on the bulletin board outside of the university museum. He initially went there to document some artwork and architecture models from Greek and Roman times, further analyzing how they’re still apparent in modern buildings.

The sign explained the need for one part-timer from any college to cover the night shift of the museum due to the current night guard’s full semester absence. He only had to come in 3x a week, choosing his days since he was still a student. Even the pay was above average, considering that most part-timers never go beyond midnight. Jeno would, on the other hand, always staying for his projects or gaming with the boys. Drinking sometimes during late-night Fridays with his entire college crew.

The pay would leave him a load of extra cash for himself, thus he sent an application to the museum office right before he left. A week later, while he was out with the boys, he got a text from the office that they wanted to meet him again for a final interview first thing on Monday.

Perhaps it was having architecture as his course and a healthy physique that landed him the part-timer position. Mainly, the latter because guards required strong endurance and fighting skills when worse comes to worst. It would start at 9 pm until 6 am the following day, and there was a designated uniform of it too. Blue blazer with matching trousers, white dress top, and loafers.

Aside from the typical museum etiquette the head director instructed him about, there was an unofficial list of tips written on paper given from the night guard on leave when the director handed you over his box of office-related things.

Only read at the night guard office once you’re the remaining staff left.

He did as he was told like an obedient son, flipping the succeeding page.

 To my temporary replacement,

This part-timing job is nothing regular than the other jobs. You’ll witness things as you’ve never imagined them to be, almost like witchcraft. You’ll be lost and maybe frightened, or that’s how I felt the first time because no one led me through it all those years ago. Lucky for you, I made this small guide on how to properly take care of the place that the other staff doesn’t know about.

Before you proceed, I request you take a 5-minute stroll around the lobby first to understand what I’m talking about. After such, go back to the office or somewhere quiet then browse through the guide as quickly as you could.

Art is timeless here, so they need to be taken care of.

Good luck!

 Park Sanghoon

Night Guard on Leave

 Nothing could’ve prepared Jeno for what’s to come once he unlocked the office door. They say that art brings so much color to our life, allowing us to feel all sorts of emotions in a glimpse. But no one ever interpreted art to be literally alive and walking in the halls.

Behold, random wax figures and marble sculptures that he’s seen in the past roamed the hallways, as well as the paintings were interacting with each other side by side. Even the standee of a puppy from the entrance played fetch with one of those sculptures. He swore he looked like Hermes the messenger god from his arrow headpiece and sandals.

It made more sense why the guard on leave explained his feelings during the first day because it resembled Jeno’s. But unlike that guard, Jeno sucked it up. No one ever does well on the first day, even if others say otherwise. The first day was a learning experience, so he collected his thoughts even though the goosebumps triggered his body during that one rotation.

There was an indoor garden, already locked by the day guard earlier. The only room without any art piece, where students lounge to study the plants or relax in nature.

The sculptures section ahead, showcasing various fictional figures specifically from Greek mythology, chattered away about family drama and beliefs. The sculptures of Hades and Zeus, according to their title plate, argued relentlessly about power while Athena always intervened by shouting or even throwing arrows or daggers to any of the lightbulbs there.

That was one rule in the guide, but Jeno didn’t know yet until he came inside the room and swerved the attention of the arguing duo.

“Well, what do we have here?” Zeus, in the center, straightened his posture on his throne to present himself in a more regal way. “Are you perhaps the temporary replacement of Sir Sanghoon?”

“Sir Sanghoon’s stand-in is rather good looking, don’t you think?” Hera mused, stepping down from her throne beside Zeus to take a closer look at the taller male. Her cold fingers trailed his jaw until his chest, where his heart was beating intensely. She even pinched his toned bicep, mouthing wow.

“Truly handsome you are, my dear. So full of life, please introduce yourself to us.”

While Jeno introduced himself to everyone in that room, he answered any sorts of questions they had for him too. From his age, educational background, hobbies, Aphrodite just had to ask him if he had a girlfriend because he was that handsome.

“Nope, I’m single. With my degree in architecture, the requirements are so heavy I can’t even try dating.”

Mentioning his degree excited the gods, telling him how their people created and designed all these temples to house them and perform rituals. They loved it so much. This was a copy-paste of what Jeno learned from his history classes, and for a first, he’s hearing the perspective of the Greek gods.

Mind-boggling that he hasn’t fully freaked out yet. That’s what Athena anticipated when Sanghoon told her about his short leave, putting her in charge of everyone for the meantime while the replacement settled down.

The college museum was built during the late 70s as a gift from one of the alumni. It was for the purpose to preserve history and educate college students outside the classroom. The Greek mythology exhibit was the oldest one, making Athena have more seniority. Over her stay, she’s seen every new guard lose their senses during the first night. Some not even returning for a second night. She got used to every outcome, and so far, only 8 people lasted after the first night. A couple of students in the 70s and 80s, Sanghoon in the 90s, and now Jeno was one of them.

“Jeno, aren’t you terrified by us? You just got a job in a museum that comes to life every night, and it’s not a normal thing.”

“Well, I’m still shaken up about it. But it’s my first night, and it’s when I learn everything about the place from head to toe. Plus, I really need the money.”

“Money for what? But you’re young, a student even!”

“Yes, I am. However, I do pay for the rent in my dorm. So, this job is like my first big responsibility, and I want to perform well.”

Athena commended his sense of authority, capable of leading himself. She noticed how well-spoken and poised he is, respecting and listening to everything the gods and goddesses said even if they were nonsense. She never liked to compromise with her power, taking a while to like Sanghoon back in the day. Though Jeno looked like a natural leader on his first night. If he could take care of himself well, he’s skilled to take care of the rest in the museum as well.

Plus she had full control on the nights he won’t be there, especially the weekend.

With his potential, Athena mentored him the entire night about the gist of the entire museum. Every upcoming leader needs an intelligent mentor, right? She was naturally gifted with worthy leadership skills, managing Jeno like her own child.

Athena explained how the museum came to life, which was through a royal golden plate from the Oriental room. It was a gift from a popular sorceress in China to an affluent family from the Han dynasty, who wished them a long life after she was saved from invaders due to them. The plate preserved over time, becoming an artifact. Its power remained immortal, mutating to bring life wherever it goes. In this case, the museum since its arrival in the late 70s as well.

“That’s why the Oriental room must be locked always so no one could touch or break the plate.”

After she ordered Jeno to lock the mentioned room, alongside the Foreign Art Exhibit Room which he checked out for his class, she led him to the best view of the entire museum. Center of the second floor, where stairs were on both sides. Jeno marveled at the vivacious atmosphere, witnessing actual art living, breathing, and enjoying themselves.

“Unreal, right?” She leaned in the railing, scanning through the chatty paintings.

Jeno also leaned down, deep in thought and wonder. “Absolutely, Athena. How come no one knows about this? Art coming to life? It’ll invite more students to the museum.”

“That goes against a golden rule as a night guard in this museum.” She replied bluntly. “The life that goes on inside this museum at night must remain a secret to the public.”

Jeno predicted this kind of response, having watched too many films where anything supernatural mustn’t be revealed. Although he liked the advantage of knowing something this powerful, he’d never abuse it.

Athena’s intellect was beyond the world, seamlessly reading Jeno’s expression and what he was thinking. He had good intentions even if he’s a bit mischievous. She needed to keep a keen eye on him, but for now, he needed to explore on his own.

“Anyways, Sanghoon still left out some other details. So if you have any questions, I’ll be at my exhibit trying to shut my father and my uncle up again.”

“Can you not use any weapons to do so?”

“Can’t make any promises, Jeno.” She slyly cracked her knuckles and neck as if she was fighting another battle.

Jeno was silently left with himself, finally browsing through Sanghoon’s guide while seated in one of the museum benches.

It consisted of 25 rules, wherein the first two rules consisted of locking up. One, for the doors and gates of the museum, so no art piece could escape. If they do, they will turn into dust when the sun is out according to Athena. Two, locking the Oriental and Foreign Art Rooms, which was already done.

Rule #5: Let Mochi the puppy from the lobby tag along with you; feed him treats if you have any.

On cue, the little guy barked from the corridor and raced to his side. Jeno carried him, babying him for a little and letting him lick his face a few times before putting him back down. He’s surely going to the pet store first thing in the morning with the museum allowance the director gave him.

Since he was on the second floor, he read and followed the rules that fit in before returning downstairs. On the other side of the floor were the wax figures exhibitions: one for prominent men in history while the other for prominent women. Well, more people to get acquainted with.

It’s the exchange of gasps and profanities he received when he chose the latter room. Seeing their faces, these were women he’s learned in school and online. Now in the (fake) flesh. Except for one girl he’s never heard of, unbothered in her corner sketching her life away in a sketchpad. But before he could check who she was, a suggestive touch on his arm distracted him.

“My, oh my, Hera wasn’t lying when she said that the new night guard was a fine specimen.” By her dark blue eyeshadow and eyeliner with the snake-like crown, Cleopatra studied him like he was one of the most renowned art pieces. Even patting his chest, abdomen, and arms with both her hand, Jeno caught a suggestive glint in her eyes and a smirk across her red lips.

Rule #13: Reject Cleopatra’s seductive advances at all costs.

“Goodness, Cleopatra. It’s only his first night, and you’re scaring him.” With her accent, round eyes, and a chic formal outfit, she carried a posh aura while unhesitatingly scolding the Queen of the Nile.

“Come on now, Diana. He’s stunning, who wouldn’t go after him?” If no one knew her, you’re not reading up on your world history. She’s said to have been a lovely and intelligent woman, gone so soon. Jeno definitely understood why after she detached Cleopatra’s raging hands off him.

Rule #14: Treat Princess Diana and Hera like your own parent.

“Your highness.” Jeno nodded at her out of respect, only making her chuckle uncontrollably.

“No need to address me like that, love. Now, come here.” She widened her arms for Jeno, hugging him amiably. He sensed her motherly warmth, accepting such a gesture. “You remind me so much of my youngest son, Harry. Welcome to the night shift of the museum, love.”

Similar to the Greek mythology exhibit, he introduced himself and responded to any questions that the women wax figures may have. Good for him, they weren’t crossing any borders and kept him at ease.

“A student like you working at night to pay rent?” Katherine Johnson, an African-American NASA mathematician whose calculations led to the success of a lot of famous spaceflights, cannot believe her ears. Students must only focus on school, nothing else. “What about your studies, boy?”

Rule #15: Engage in academic discussions with Katherine Johnson whenever you can.

“Most of my classes are in the afternoon, Miss Katherine. So I’ll sleep in the entire morning later and study during my breaks.”

“Mr. Jeno, what do you like to do outside of work?” Anne Frank, a German-Dutch teenager whose revolutionary diary that documented her life in hiding from the Nazis gained popularity worldwide after publication dreamily asked from her section of the exhibit. Her life was robbed of greatness merely because of her religion and war.

Rule #16: Bring delicious food or gifts to Anne Frank.

“Well, I like to bike with my friends, exercise, and draw whatever comes into mind!”

Everyone he’s met so far acquired pleasure in knowing about who he was and his passion for architecture, ridding the “freaking out” phase Athena assumed he had. Yet not everyone in this exhibit bothered to give him a shot.

Jeno’s attention from Anne talking about her crush towards Peter van Daan, a teenage boy who lived with her, switched to the section beside her, where an unacquainted figure was zealously sketching as if something was due to the following day. It reflected how he’d look when he’s cramming one of his plates due to first thing in the morning. While he properly excused himself, he quietly gazed at the way this woman scrunched her eyebrows when she erased something then drew it again. She was someone he’s never seen or heard before, reading the information plate in front of him about her.

 (Y/N) (Y/L/N), Explorer and Author. (1854-1900)

 Wealthy women in the Victorian Era only served one purpose in society: marry a man from a prestigious family, have his children and join whatever interests they have. However, for (Y/N), she wasn’t going to conform to those standards.

Born into the affluent house of (Y/L/N), she was the youngest of 8 children. She was said to be the kindest and sweetest sibling out of everyone, not capable of hurting anyone or anything. She said it herself that she can’t throw away a dying flower because it’s too painful. While 5 of her older brothers were sent to school, she stayed at home with her 2 older sisters Cecilia and Amelia where she learned how to play the piano and take voice lessons from impressive teachers. Due to the huge age gaps between them (12 and 8 respectively), she never felt close with them. She was only closest to the 6th and 7th siblings, her twin brothers Benjamin and Liam whom she only had a 2-year gap. She was also best friends with one of the scullery maids her age, Lily, because she found her amusing that than the boring rich girls her mother forced to interact with.

The moment it bothered her that she wanted to live a more meaningful life was when Amelia got married. She was 12 years old at the time, and it left her as the last unwed daughter in the family. Badly did she want to revolt, which she gradually did. Instead of practicing piano, she’d sneak in to read every book in her father’s office. She secretly studied the notes of her older brothers from school and even dressed as a boy numerously thanks to Benjamin and Liam to join their classes or field trips.

This was her routine up until the age of 18 when she stomped her foot down and expressed to her parents that she wasn’t going to let Victorian society dictate her. The night before her parents were bound to send her to her great aunt’s home down South to sort her out, she successfully snuck out her house thanks to Lily, Benjamin, and Liam. It’s another good thing that she saved a lot of money for that moment.

Off she went across Europe first, then sailed to America and even parts of Asia. Initially under the name Lilibe, coined from picking the first two letters of her brothers and best friend, she documented her days and nights through her journals and sketches. Over time, she sent them to her brothers for publication. It started the franchise, “The Adventures of the Young and Free Lilibe”. There are 10 books under it.

She learned French, Spanish, Mandarin, Japanese, and Korean by herself as she made friends from those places. It was rare of someone like her to be fluent in Oriental languages, surprising locals every time she spoke to them. She was the only explorer to vividly describe life in different Asian lands in English, talking about their history and culture. With her accurate drawings of diverse citizens and their daily lives, it educated a lot of those living back home in Europe about them rather than speaking lowly of them.

In Seoul did she stayed the longest until her death from pneumonia at the young age of 46.

In her posthumous work, Finding Me, did she reveal her real identity, dedicating it to her parents whom she apologized and expressed her love for them despite everything that occurred between them. She talked about the last years of her life in Seoul, how locals were so nice and inviting to her, and how she adopted kids instead of having her own through the years.

“It’s not because I never found love in men. It’s more like I found love in doing things I’m passionate about. Traveling, learning new cultures, it outweighed the human need of romance.”

Due to her thrill in taking risks and embarking on wondrous adventures, it brought inspiration to a lot of young girls pressured to marry at that time to pursue what they really want.

 A remarkable background you had, Jeno contemplated. How come no one discussed her in his classes?

You kept brushing the bangs of your hair back as it fell repeatedly. But you got irritated instantly because it sabotaged your drive, you brought out a hairpin from her desk and attached it on both sides. But when you shifted your angle of focus, the corner of your eye locked with Jeno’s attentive gaze.

He didn’t flinch, even he should’ve. He wasn’t one to linger his look on anyone’s physical appearances, but your story and the passion on your face as you sketched mesmerized him. He was charmed, to say the least.

“Uhm, hello there?” You broke the silence due to your uneasiness about it. What’s his deal?

Jeno bowed, reintroducing himself to you. As soon as his presence settled in the room when Cleopatra attempted to hit on him, you could’ve cared less. Though this man was a first for you, a first in a long time as all guards would feel intimidated by you during the first night. Even your sharp tongue didn’t faze him. “Staring is rude, sir. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“She did,” He wandered through the exterior of your section, by the fence that separated you and him. Not breaking eye contact, his eyes turned into moon crescents as he smirked with trouble. “Though she also told me to appreciate the art too.”

Snorts noisily exhaled from Cleopatra, who took the center section of the exhibit, succeeded by Princess Diana’s whispered gasps and Katherine’s side-eyeing Anne beside her while she taught her math. That was an odd way a guard conversed with you, but Jeno was merely doing what the rules stated. Partly, he was impressed with his cheesy pick-up line, partly embarrassed because he’s never spoken like this to anyone.

Rule #17: Act playfully around (Y/N) (Y/L/N) to break the tension; she’s a harsh one.

There was irony between the information he read about your life versus the wax model. Even when you faced sexism and ran away according to your history, never were you impolite to anyone in your life. You couldn’t even kill a lurking fly when it roams around your food! It showed Jeno a possibility that as much as you’re just a wax version of someone famous in the past, maybe the external environment around you had a heavy influence too.

“You fool!” His confidence exasperated you, urging you to persistently throw balls of paper with your failed sketches at him. No one dared to talk to you like that, most especially a night guard. “Take that for your comment!”

If you thought he’d scram away and act repentant, you were proven wrong. His reflexes were parallel to a spider, capturing every single paper ball without fail. Up and down his body went, one arm held on to them and no more were left on your part. Never a single defeat during the first meeting in years, but that seemed to alter now.

“Give up already, Ms. (Y/L/N)?” Jeno remarked vibrantly as he discarded your mess in the trash bin behind him. If he managed to get everyone to like him tonight, he wanted to make sure to have you onboard too.

Whatever agenda he had, you weren’t up for it. You’d treat him the same way you usually treated Sanghoon for the past 20 something years: cold and ignorant. From your stool, you left your comfortable position to come face to face with this man. He better be grateful for that barrier in between you, or else you would’ve caused mayhem.

“Never in your wildest dreams, Mr. Lee.” Your mouth gave a half-smile, clenching on the bars to liberate your annoyance. Before you could fend back, that’s when Princess Diana intervened between your heated dialogue.

“Oh heavens, children!” She stood by the barrier, mostly to protect the newbie Jeno with her body. “(Y/N), he just wanted to know you. Must you be so cross?”

This Princess Diana embodied all the traits the real one had: soft-spoken, intelligent, and protective. She’s gotten so used to your gradual temper, staying on standby whenever anyone tried to mess with you. Even if it was harmless, you could get so mean!

“Diana, he was mocking me! Saying such a sleazy phrase as if to amuse me, ha! Not a chance, I hate people like that.”

“Not us women though; you just despise men in general.”

“And you’re absolutely right!” With a smug smile, you greedily rejoiced. “Anyways, escort this disgrace out. I’m not in the mood to get angry when I have a lot of inspiration on mind right now.”

While you resumed your sketching to let go of that extra steam, Jeno was left with Diana who apologized on your behalf. Your pride was too high to do that, and as the motherly figure among them, she always took care of things in your exhibit.

“I’m so sorry for that, Jeno. She’s not really like this, but I know how much you tried your best. It was quite a fresh spectacle honestly.”

Whatever was responsible for your abrasiveness, Jeno yearned to know. He couldn’t understand who you were yet even knowing your life story. All he wanted was to get along with everyone. It was the key to successfully maintain his job for the next 6 months.

“How can I make her come around then?”

A demanding question that no one had a solid answer to. Diana recalled how much Sanghoon didn’t let your dislike for him get to him, maintaining a respectful boundary in between each other after his past attempts. Though with Jeno, observing how he riled you up and your focus entirely on him, she hasn’t seen anything like it since the 80s.

There was something in Jeno that may just get you to warm up and return to your kind nature.

“Aside from acting playful, as Sanghoon recommended, I can think of two ways, love.” By the doors of her exhibit, where Jeno was already waltzing the corridor to visit other rooms, she suggested smartly. “One, argue back to her opinions. She hates whenever anyone tries to get her way, but boy, you’re just as wise as her. No one was brave enough to peeve on her until you came.”

“How about the second way?”

“Do your research, love. Aside from libraries, you have those small technology devices that allow you to search up anything.” She tousled Jeno’s brown locks as if it were her actual son’s. Some habits just don’t die when you do.

“Brush up on your history, Jeno. Not only will it help you with (Y/N), but it’ll serve purposefully with the other art pieces here.”

Boy, he was ready to crash in his bed for a few hours after all those interactions. His introverted nature required to be revitalized.

Towards the last hours of his shift, the art pieces who’ve strolled in the first floor lessened his plate by not leaving any major clutter behind. As if she listened to him, Athena didn’t break any lightbulbs too.

His main highlight would be meeting the men of the historical male section, who flaunted a more humorous ambiance. Freddie Mercury from Queen insisted he drink a glass of his wine and to bring more wine next time, which he denied since it would against Sanghoon’s rules. King Sejong the Great and Martin Luther King Jr. argued back and forth over the most random things (pineapple on pizza specifically), while Steve Jobs mediated whenever one crossed the line. Meanwhile, William Shakespeare was too preoccupied in his writing and speaking to himself about his books, wondering how to improve them.

During one of his breaks today, he multitasked drawing a new plate with his research on every art piece to know them better. He started with the exhibit of sculptures of the Greek gods and goddesses, which were Zeus, Hera, Hades, Athena, Hermes, Aphrodite, Poseidon, Artemis, Dionysus, and Circe. They weren’t the complete roster because the rest were in other museums across the globe, as said by Athena before sunrise. The majority of them he knew what they were in charge of, but the rest were foggy to his knowledge. Typing away and jotting notes down, he started downloading his favorite jazz songs too.

Rule # 4: Play jazz music to the paintings on the first floor so they can relax and dance within their frames.

Circe is a minor goddess, the daughter of the sun god Helios. She’s recognized for her versatility in incantations and herbs, capable of transforming people into animals. From Jeno’s perspective, she’s mostly within her space with her journals and magic wand, trying new spells or combinations of herbs. For the latter, he had to keep a closer eye on.

Rule #9: Don’t let Circe, god of potions, into the Oriental Room to get plants and herbs.

He discovered that Dionysus is the god of wine, happiness, and theatre. That’s why every god in the exhibit had full wine glasses during their gathering. It also added up why Freddie Mercury always comes to him when his bottles run empty, though he mustn’t go overboard.

Rule #18: Make sure Freddie Mercury doesn’t get too drunk from the wine of Dionysus; he might make numerous scenes if he does.

After his lone studying session, he took a short trip to the pet and convenience stores to buy food. He got a dumbfounded look from Jaemin back in the dorm room, who was studying for one of his quizzes in Biology in a couple of hours.

“Woah what’s with this stash? Is it for yourself or something?”

“The museum surprisingly has a lot of tasks needed to be done at night. And no, not from my wallet but the allowance they gave me before you get a heart attack.” Jeno plopped on his solo bed, covering his face with a pillow.

“Thank God.” A relaxed sigh escaped Jaemin’s lips, taking back his balled-up fists meant for his roommate. “I think I would’ve stormed that boring museum if they made your broke ass spend a cent.”

“Boring?” Jeno removed the cushion hastily, eyeing his busy and coffee-high roommate. The scent of black coffee from his mug spread in the room, assuming that this upcoming test was testing his roommate’s patience again.

Not even trying to look at Jeno while reviewing his handwritten notes, Jaemin continued giving his opinion. “Museum culture is dead, Jeno. Not everyone has the time to roam around one, plus people can always look up the artifacts online these days.”

People were entitled to their own opinions on numerous things, though Jeno begged to differ with his roommate’s. Especially after witnessing the magic of the night shift, you shouldn’t merely judge a book by its cover. In this case, you shouldn’t judge an artwork or art piece merely on its history and legacy.

Maybe because his roommate was in the science department, he thought this way. A lot of art students regularly visit the museum both for fun and for their classes, and Jeno was one of them. Though he was too sleepy to explain his side, he let it slide for now and snoozed throughout the late afternoon.

An hour before the start of his shift, Jeno promenaded the emptying museum to inspect anything else he might’ve missed out on from last night. There were two areas according to his rotation, both in the first floor.

One was the Diorama Room. Divided into 4 sections, highlighting some of the well-known ancient civilizations in world history. Ancient Egypt and Ancient China to your left, Ancient Rome and Ancient Maya to your right. They acted as if they were the actual people during those times, giving Jeno a laugh when they cracked jokes in between. Such tiny figures, yet the rule for them said otherwise.

Rule # 7: The small figurines in the Diorama Room are feisty, so make sure they don’t fight with one another again.

The remaining room left was the Theater Room. He’s never been here, though his art friends have for film festivals held by the university.

The interior of it was set to look like an actual cinema place you’d see in a mall. There was a mini lobby with a few posters of iconic films over the years. Singin’ in the Rain, Back to the Future, Titanic, those were some framed and hung on the wall. There were two other doors there: one leading to the chairs and the other where the movie projector was. The latter room was pretty riveting, wherein you can choose to watch old short films through an 88mm film projector or switch to a cd player for the newer releases.

Back to those posters, they weren’t an exception to the magic and a simple rule was left for Jeno to do.

Rule # 10: Chatter with the movie posters in the lobby of the Theater Room; they love meeting new faces.

Since there wasn’t anyone checking out the Art Rooms on the second floor, he closed them. Though as he was about to lock the Oriental Room, the ravishing plants around the royal plant appealed his interest. Said to hold magical properties from his research, Jeno was reminded of another rule to keep in mind for later.

Rule # 3: The fake flowers in the Oriental Room come to life too at night, so when no one is lurking, water it diligently.

Instead of lounging at Sanghoon’s office first, he brought his important items to the front desk of the lobby and continued sketching his plate. He wanted to watch the art come back alive with his two eyes. Usually, he’d have coffee when he does his work, but due to another crucial rule in the guide, he’d rather not take the risk.

Rule # 6: The lobby room can get rowdy, so keep any drinks away from important items.

On the dot, the cries and yawns from the art pieces around him reverberated. Closing his sketchpad, his night guard mode was on. Connecting his laptop on the aux cord of the museum speakers, he tapped play on his playlist of jazz music that’ll last for the entire shift duration. As the first notes flooded the entire vicinity, sounds of joy left the lips of each painting. Some were humming, dancing, and even singing along.

“You can never go wrong with Frank Sinatra!”

“This Jeno lad really did the heavens’ work quick!”

Having the sense of accomplishment on his sleeve, the small barks of his fluffy pal reached closer to him. As he kneeled to find him, he was only taken by surprise as Mochi excitedly jumped on him. Tumbling over, Jeno chuckled innocently as Mochi licked his face numerously. This puppy was friendly, easily liking everyone at first sight. He wasn’t as choosy like Daegal, the puppy of his friend Chenle studying Business Management.

Once he composed himself and cradling the dog like his own, he fed him a dog treat from the desk.

“Good boy, Mochi!” He rubbed his fur while the puppy happily munched on it, ready to fulfill more of his duties.

He skipped the Greek mythology exhibit since Athena was doing a good job not letting anyone go overboard with their powers, though he’ll check in again in a few hours. He met the posters of the theater room, who were celebrities he grew up watching on tv. Sanghoon was right; they were the kinder group in the entire museum because they were more laidback.

On to the second floor, all the female wax figures lounged by the male section due to another lecture from Shakespeare. Although the guide informed him that most of the time it could get boring, this lecture was more stimulating. On his platform, he elaborated with conviction the lines of one of his famous books, Romeo and Juliet. A must-read book back in his high school days, there’s no way Jeno could’ve missed that out.

From the looks of it, Jeno perceived that Shakespeare was performing spoken word poetry due to him reading only Romeo’s lines while Cleopatra read Juliet’s beside him. This kind of show was one of the sources of entertainment to these figures, so Jeno leaned by the side of the door to listen. After all, the famous author of it was a few feet away. Cleopatra channeled such a naïve character to her ability, absentmindedly saying as she clutched her chest.

“O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name; Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, And I'll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?”

“'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot, nor arm, nor face, nor any other part belonging to a man. O, be some other name! What's in a name? That which we call a rose-”

The flow of an engaged Cleopatra was abrupted by the loud yell from Shakespeare in front, specifically to an amused Jeno. “Jeno, my boy! Welcome back!”

Such an announcement diverted everyone’s attention to the back, some running to Jeno to give their respective greetings. It’s rare for everyone to feel at ease with a new guard, taking them weeks to approach them due to the intimidation. Though Jeno’s bright presence felt welcoming, so they accepted it. Perhaps it’s because of his youth, it reminded them of theirs too.

Shakespeare highly requested (or forced) Jeno to take his part as Romeo, intrigued to watch someone younger read his lines. Since most of the male wax figures were aged, it never satisfied Shakespeare so he jumped on this opportunity as quickly as he could. With the roaring cheers from the other figures, Jeno might as well give it a try. It wasn’t like his friends were here to clown him like they usually would if he did something humiliating.

Jeno shockingly liked this activity as he wasn’t much of a performer on stage, but someone who does the behind-the-scenes of it. He realized as he read the lines from the book Shakespeare asked him to follow along with why people held university-wide spoken word shows a few times per semester. He was no actor, but it’s delightful to have tried it at least once in his life.

“O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?” As if the edge of the platform was the balcony of Juliet (or Cleopatra rather), he knelt as he ardently spoke his lines. He’s emphasizing this rush of uncontrollable desire for her, rambling whatever he would do to get the girl.

“What satisfaction canst thou have tonight?” Cleopatra questioned from her chair, inching closer to the young boy. Even outside character will she attempt to charm Jeno, but Jeno was quick to catch it and kept his distance.

“The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.”

“I gave thee mine before thou didst request it, and yet I would it were to give again.”

“Wouldst thou withdraw it? For what purpose, love?”

“But to be frank, and give it thee again. And yet I wish but for the thing I have. My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep. The more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.”

Everyone was condensed by their top-notch acting, as if this was the actual play unfolding before them. Jeno wasn’t so sure how he got himself in character without preparation, yet he felt what his character felt. He comprehended the material a lot better now than when he was still in high school.

However, there was always that one killjoy to ruin the heartfelt mood.

“How dumb is it to say that you’re in love after the first glance?” You opposed, putting the spotlight on you. This book was said to be a classic in literature, but as you matured physically and mentally, you could no longer agree with it. “Isn’t love the same thing that killed Romeo and Juliet in the end?”

Remembering what Princess Diana told him, he wasn’t going to let this pass. He wanted to give a piece of his mind too, caring less if the show must be paused. “Love is an emotion we don’t ask to feel. It’ll come to us when we least expect it, even when the timing of it can be crucial.”

“Of all the people Juliet could’ve gone for, it just had to be the enemy.” In all the years you’ve been brought to life, no one dared to test your opinions because they were aware of your intelligence, from the streets to the books. When someone bark, you’d bite back. Hard. “With all due respect, I love your works, Shakespeare. Yet the fate you’ve given these two at a young age was grave, could’ve you given them a better outcome or another character to love instead?”

“Giving them extra characters to love won’t address the horrific life fact that love can be dangerous. Regardless of what status you’re in, you can’t stop the attraction towards someone. The heart wants what it wants.” Jeno pressed his hand to his chest, pumping it a bit. Unknown to you and him, the audience found more entertainment in your argument. Anne, who was munching on the popcorn Jeno gave her earlier, passed the snack to Katherine who just couldn’t stop watching.

If this man wanted a challenge, you’re all ears. Who was he to compete with you? Was he not intelligent to know who you are?

“So are you insinuating that we just go with the flow? Be a slave to our emotions too and let them dictate our next motives?”

“Slave is such a strong word to use, (Y/N). But it’s not like we can’t choose who want to love because we actually can. In this case, Romeo chose Juliet and vice versa.”

“But what happens if the person you choose doesn’t choose you in return?”

“At least you tried your best, right? It’ll hurt like hell though, but it won’t last forever.” From his kneeling position, Jeno strutted his way with confidence. Trying not to let it mess with you, your extreme stare at him as if they’ll shoot lasers. Inches away from you, Jeno declared. “Love always has risks, that’s a given. Romeo and Juliet still tried and followed their hearts despite the downfall. But it was a needed downfall to get the message across.”

“No one would be that foolish to risk their lives for love though, right? Life is so precious, why would they do such a thing?”

“Even if they knew what their lives were without each other, they still preferred living a life where they were both in the picture. Therefore, they tried all they could that time because the regret of not doing anything at all carries a heavier burden.”

Whenever anyone argued with you, their debating points they spat back would further piss you off because most of the time, it never made sense. Back when this rude man told you to go home and be a wife in your earlier years of exploring, you civilly told him to fuck off, kicking his balls because he cornered you in an alley. For the first time, a man who tried to challenge you actually made sense. Was it because he lived in a modern time, where minds were more open? Because of the amount of sexism you faced in the past, you’ve turned a blind eye to the current period.

But your high pride maintained, not submitting into anything he said. “I still think it’s stupid to risk your life for love. There’s no such thing as having only one true love anyways, and you have to be alive to see it.”

“Fair point, but again, the feeling of regret and carrying it your entire life doesn’t fade easily. It’ll make you reflect on the what-ifs, and it’s heart-wrenching.” Jeno digressed, walking around you in circles. He’s intentionally trying to drive you mad, but he could care less. He wanted someone to put you in your place and open your mindset. “The question stands: would you rather try and go for it even knowing its risks or regret not even trying for the rest of your existence? Quite ironic for me to ask you that, don’t you think?”

Past the information board, Jeno researched more of your life history online. Your whole life was grounded on risks, from breaking the standards of your society, leaving your family and home country, to fending yourself from disrespectful men. Rather than living the original life expected from you, you chose not to because it didn’t make you happy. Such a risktaker he knew you are, but with the topic of love, he wondered why you were on a fence with it. Though some records stated you’ve had rendezvouses with a few men in your journeys, love was never in the equation. The single life was what you chose and you were more than satisfied, plus your adopted kids filled that supposed void anyways.

This man may have studied your history, but so much he still doesn’t know. Information that never made the books because you chose not to write or tell anyone about it. Aside from the discomfort growing in your chest, everyone else felt the awkward tension when you were lost for words.

Never been defeated in an argument, until tonight. Your mind lost its drive and willpower.

“Touché, Lee Jeno.” Indeed, his name you’re acquainted with. Numerously passed around in your exhibit, mostly from the lips of Cleopatra, who’d fantasize all the graphic things she would do to him. Too much information, least of your interest. “Please excuse me. I’d like to work on my sketches to ease my mind.”

As you quietly exited the room, an all too familiar sculpture leaned against the railings overseeing one side of the museum. Just like you, she hated accepting defeat or compromises. She always rooted for you to win. With a faint chuckle, “Facing a loss for the first time, I see.”

“Don’t even lecture me about it, Athena. I’m still fired up, and I need to relax.”

“Jeno is a different breed, isn’t he?” She stuck to your side, strolling wherever your feet led you.

“Different as in he’s a man? Yes. What else is there to it?”

“Men these days aren’t as trashy as those back in the day though. Shouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“Last time I did, it destroyed my heart. I’m not allowing myself to let men in even as a friend, Athena.”

She knew exactly what you were referring to, not touching on it further. No way will you let heartbreak or disappointment from men bother you. Even Sanghoon’s sweet company took a while to tolerate. You really needed to sketch this out on your pad right now, excusing yourself from Athena’s presence. Isolation wasn’t new to you; it’s what’s protecting your entire being. Immortal as you are, you had to recover from the past pain so the next decades won’t feel as brash.

You hoped to return to your old self when you were a fresh new figure in the 70s. So naïve, only proud of your accomplishments, and purely happy.

While Jeno continued to finish his scene in respect to Shakespeare, he received a standing ovation for his mini-show. Cleopatra didn’t expect such talent from him, growing fonder of the younger male. Whether she seduces him or not, he was never afraid to try new things and she liked that about him.

“Bravo, love!” Princess Diana praised, clapping at him.

Although Jeno appreciated all this positive attention, his thoughts bounced back to your and your stance on love. The debate earlier was just out of being playful, interested to hear your opinions. Though, he’s worried that he might’ve offended you. It may have been time to finally witness something like that, but then again, he was sure he touched something personal to you. No matter how you tried to fight it off, your eyes can’t lie. Staring down at him, there was pain beneath it. Your eyebrows scrunched to the center, thinking deeply yet remained utterly speechless.

A win he didn’t feel good about.

“It’s time she encountered something new in the years she’s been here. Give her some space tonight, then try again to reach out to her. Kindly this time; I’m not in the mood for another brawl that could end up like the Greek gods’ past fights downstairs.”

These clever words shared by Katherine loitered his mind for the rest of the night, eventually going back to finishing his current plate since everyone was behaving well. As great it is to get the approval of the majority, he tried brainstorming ways to make you like him too.

He understood the whole “men are trash” concept in today’s modern society, but if he could prove it wrong to at least one person, it would be you. Whatever is holding you back, he only hoped that you’d let it go. Questionably unsure as to why he was so persevering, he concluded that it was so he could perform his job better as the night guard. Set higher standards than Sanghoon even.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Weeks passed, and his attempts continued to be unsuccessful.

The capability for you to ignore his efforts remained strong, whether he was pestering you over small things or debating with you again about anything. Life, books, morals, the two of you always head butt each other. Anything good he did, you searched for a flaw in it. Whatever acts he’s tried and continued trying, not one flinch from you ever.

Even if that’s his state with you, his job no longer felt stressful nor strenuous. He’d try to sleep more on days he was off-duty. Although the fatigue of staying beyond his usual sleeping time was inevitable, he compromised to take a nap lasting an hour or two when the art pieces weren’t acting frisky.

Plus, there have been multiple times they adapted to any alterations so his physical well-being wouldn’t fall sick. Per order of Princess Diana and Hera, who by instinct became his motherly figures here, only wanting what’s best for the kids.

He became accustomed to everything that went on at night, discovering things on his own without Sanghoon’s guide. Anne talked about how much she missed biking in her neighborhood, so one night, Jeno snuck his bike inside and let her use it around the first floor. With proper monitoring so none of the paintings would be unbothered or pieces wouldn’t tumble.

Hermes the messenger god was fluent in every language possible, so every so often, Jeno would freely speak to him in Korean because sometimes he felt he could explode by the amount of English he used every night. Bilingual things, you know. He knew you were multilingual too, but for obvious reasons, he couldn’t converse with you.

Because Jeno was heavily favored, that should’ve been enough to push through his night shifts before the end of the semester. In addition to that, the hourly rate was above the average of whatever Jaemin or Renjun was earning. For the past 2 months, Jeno paid upfront first, even paying back all his debts. It almost made Renjun want to switch jobs with him.

“Trust me, Renjun. You don’t want it, being the lowkey scaredy cat you are.”

Work no longer felt like work, and that’s what everyone aspired to feel. Nevertheless, he tended to worry over you mid-shift, glancing at you from his side view. Sketching, reading, and writing were your default actions. No matter how many times he said to himself not to let your dislike for him affect him, it’d always backfire.

Why were you so cold?

What made you lose your fire from all the research he did about your lively personality?

When morning arrived and he gathered his stuff, you’d be the last thing he’ll check on. Frozen in your standing pose, smiling as you held a book and a pencil, he detected how fake it was. Bystanders would only assume your happiness was from your achievements, though Jeno’s gut firmly pried that something grand overpowered that happiness. And definitely, not in a good way.

Out of all the art pieces, he investigated on you the most. Skimming through every material in the library, endless searching on the net, even asking professors from the History department thanks to Renjun, he did whatever he could. People may already think he was obsessed with who you are, but only little did they know.

Another plate was done and submitted, and he promised himself to look you up one last time before surrendering. For someone who’s rarely given up on a challenge, this one was really out of his control. Maybe he should follow Sanghoon’s footsteps now.

You lived centuries before him, and there’s limited material of you left. Rather than learning of your adventures again, he dug through what things you liked over your life. Maybe by giving one of them, it’ll lessen the tension from a 100 to 99. Maybe you preferred gifts over words, he’ll never know until he tried.

Boom.

According to one of your journal entries, there’s a fond liking you’ve acquired for lavender roses from Benjamin and Liam when they visited you in Paris in secret because of how much you missed them. It went both ways, praying your family ties could be recovered.

It’s a good thing he needed to refill his stock of items for the art pieces so he could pass by the flower store a few blocks away from his dorm. That night, without further words, he graciously offered you a fresh lavender rose in between your new sketching session.

“I may not know exactly why you’re spiritless around me, but with this rose, I hope we could work something out.”

Your frigid face of disdain, keeping your chin high and squinting your eyes with judgment, began to crumble down.  Of all things as a peace offering, he gave you that? Then again, it’s not like he knew that an item you liked so much became something you’ve grown to hate and why so. No history books could teach him that.

Vulnerability was a normal thing, yet feared by many. Once one uncovered your weak spot, they could harm you. You still couldn’t trust Jeno fully, not willing to show your helplessness nor were you ever going to tell him. Hidden from his knowledge, everyone else including Sanghoon were familiarized as to why this kind of flower tormented you.

You sprinted like thunder out the exhibit room to wherever it’s private to control your senses. You may not have a physical heart, but your emotions were just as actual as a human’s. You needed to regulate your panting breath. In the past decades, you’ve not shed a singular tear but the cycle broke when they streamed out your miserable eyes like a flowing river. Quiet sobs, an empty corner near the fire exit was where your wobbly legs faltered, the painful memories of the past replayed in your head. Once beautiful, but now an agonizing reminder of what could’ve been.

Katherine, Cleopatra, and Anne were swift on their feet to hunt you down, anxious of what you may do next. Seeing or the mention of these flowers still affected you despairingly. Sanghoon must’ve forgotten to write them down, or perhaps he didn’t know either about this fact during all the years he’s worked there.

It’s one of the biggest secrets of his museum. By the clueless face Jeno had with his eyebrows raised, mouth, and small eyes slightly open, he repeatedly asked what he did wrong and adding that he never meant to harm you. Indeed, they knew that yet what occurred involved a secret in the list of museum secrets. Confidential only between art pieces according to Athena, none of the male wax figures spoke a word, only pitying the boy.

“I wasn’t here yet that time, but they said that it was once beautiful, but now it’s a rough period.” With hesitation, Princess Diana chose to reveal it to rid Jeno’s misery. She didn’t mind having to argue about it with Athena later on, as this may further affect the two of you later on.

“A long time ago in the early ‘80s, there was a night guard around your age named Junmyeon. Also, a college student, trying to make ends meet. He did it for 3 years until he graduated. Though within his stay, not only was he such a delight to everyone, he broke a golden rule in the guide. I believe you do know the guide much more now, Jeno?”

“Yes, I do, Princess Diana. Memorized it even, but which one specifically?” Jeno’s desperate eyes pleaded, only hoping for the best and to fix what he messed up.

“You can form friendships with the art pieces, but nothing more.” Princess Diana replied bitterly. “Junmyeon was an aspiring painter, a different path from his business-oriented family. He was seen as the black sheep. She resonated with him, sharing the burden and lifting it by doing whatever fun they could in the museum. In time, they both fell in love with each other; they were each other’s first loves.”

“Why must something beautiful like love be broken? It’s not like you can control it. That golden rule makes no sense.”

“It does, unfortunately. Wax figures like me cannot age, while humans like you can. None of them could accept the reality, always pushing it away. Until Junmyeon’s last week in university, he broke it off with her unexpectedly. From there, (Y/N) was heartbroken for decades. With heartbreak, giving the cold shoulder and bitterness followed. Then with the lavender rose you gave that she used to love became a flower that she associated with Junmyeon too because he gave her one almost every night for those past 3 years.”

Things finally added up, and the guilt in Jeno’s gut expanded. His major lightbulb moment was a major failure.

“Has Junmyeon ever returned to try and win her back?”

“Well, there was one time he did come back for an art exhibition for his paintings in the 2000s. I was already here, then he had a woman around his shoulder with an adolescent boy holding his hand. He roamed around our exhibit and kept gawking at (Y/N). We may be asleep, but we remember the conversations exchanged in the room. So, his son then asked him if he knew who she was.”

“What did he respond?” Jeno attentively listened, on the edge of such a hurtful tale.

“He knew her name, praising her for historical achievements. However, nothing as a former friend or lover. From what I predict, he ingested one of Circe’s potions.”

“But I thought Circe isn’t allowed to make potions for actual consumption. She’s not even allowed to enter the Oriental Art Room.” Jeno pointed out, overwhelmed at the puzzling past. Princess Diana was mindful that she had to stop spreading too much information, so she had to end her discussion with the lost boy.

“There are a lot of secrets about this museum, Jeno. Unfortunately, I cannot reveal to you to protect our peace.”

With due respect, Jeno quit his follow-up questions and concerns. The only thing he wished to do was mend his relationship with you. As vague as to where you even stood in the first place, he unintentionally crossed a line due to his selfish intention to befriend you.

“What can I do now, Princess Diana? You know I’d never push her buttons like that, even if I’m a whimsical person.”

“Oh, my boy.” Princess Diana soothed, holding both her hand on his sweaty palm and cupping his cheek. “For the meantime, give her space. No taunting for a while, and just observe her from a distance. Though do not fret the slightest; I’m sure she’ll be okay again.”

During that interval, you were hunched on the wall, bawling and weeping like the wound was brand new again. While Katherine and Anne stood by your side, on the lookout for anyone who’d be spying on you, Cleopatra knelt in front of you as your infinite tears gushed down.

“My dear,” She tried to wipe some of them while holding your hand. “It’s been years, and Jeno didn’t know a single thing. He didn’t mean to do it.”

“I don’t care, Cleopatra! He should’ve stopped trying to socialize with me because I won’t ever live down my experience with Junmyeon.”

“As if crying like this will bring Junmyeon back to your life,” Cleopatra exclaimed, holding in her temper. Acquainted with heartbreak, it’s awful that it changed you entirely, but you should’ve found a way to heal. Throughout your attitude change, it’s mostly you in pain, not those you inflict it to. “My dear, I love you a lot. But this Jeno boy is different, and you know it.”

“He’s still a nightguard, for Christ’s sake, Cleopatra.”

“You shouldn’t generalize that all night guards are bad just because of one encounter that occurred at the wrong time.” Brushing some strands stuck by your wet visage, she professed to you bluntly. “You’re never going to know how good Jeno is unless you slowly open up again, (Y/N). Not forcing you the slightest, but healing started once you’ve acknowledged the past and move on from it.”

“But I’m scared, Cleopatra.” You restlessly admitted, hunching even more against the wall. Your poor, metaphorical heart could only take so much. You barely expressed sorrow towards others as you always held a strong exterior, only letting it out alone. Not holding back anymore, Cleopatra brought you in for a hug. The last time she did that was the first night after Junmyeon left, calming your intensified emotions so you wouldn’t do anything dumb that night. No violence, just pure sorrow.

“My dear, it’s alright.” She whispered while stroking your back upwards. “But you’re a risktaker; that’s how people remember you. Now, you must challenge yourself to move on from things that didn’t work out. Because once you do, it’ll put your heart and mind at ease.”

“Do you think I’ll be okay again?”

“Yes, you will be, my dear. You are not alone, and never will be.”

Acting like the dutiful son he always was, Jeno distanced from you.

He still cracked jokes, chatted with the art pieces, and followed the rules, yet never did he utter anything to you. You’ve proudly anticipated it since day one, not wanting him up in your business or teasing you ever. But this time, it felt odd.

On nights he didn’t report, you’ve unconsciously wondered what he may have been up to. A job like this at his age was just as Sanghoon once said: nothing in the regular.

Was he with his friends?

Was he resting well?

From the moment you chose to let go of your limitations and old thoughts, it included your grudge against past guards. Asking for forgiveness to Sanghoon when he returns was on the top of your list, however, that’ll take a while to happen. In the start, you’re baffled as to why he no longer picked on you like every night he’s been present. Somehow, it became a habit you’ve gotten used to, having so many comebacks planned to fend yourself. But you didn’t want to concede to it, maintaining what was left of your pride since that breakdown.

While on the subject, you suspected if anyone told him anything that night because that also indicated the last time he reached out to you. By anything, it would be your unwritten past with Junmyeon. A part of yourself in the museum that you didn’t want to disperse like rapid-fire again. It would be the last thing you wanted Jeno to know.

To your misfortune, Princess Diana came clean due to your growing concern over it. Although your attitude changed and people got used to it, you could only blame yourself that you were responsible for Jeno’s change.

“All he wanted was to understand and enlighten us with his likable presence. Then with you, you were his challenge because of your high walls. Out of everyone, he tried to learn everything about you. From my observation, whenever he has a goal, he’s determined to achieve it.”

“But I’m trying to be better now, Diana. Why did he stop?”

“He may have determination, but he knows where the boundaries lie.” Princess Diana patted the side of your arm, giving you a half-grin. “It hurt him when he hurt you, even if it was accidental. So he opted to give you space; that way, you could catch a breather and he wouldn’t harm you anymore. It was what you wanted from the start anyways, right?”

A hard pill to swallow, though it was a fact. It’s just that now, you’re slowly willing to release yourself from the dark. It’s been decades, and more to come. Nothing can move on unless you do.

“Where is he, Princess Diana?”

Just as she predicted right on the edge, Diana completed the grin on her face and led you to the entrance of your exhibit. She may be younger than you, but you’re reverted in your twenties while she remained in her mid-thirties. Gaping the wide museum from the railing, starting from the painting exhibit in the lobby to across the other side of the museum, Diana spotted the black hair of the boy in the Foreign Art Room.

“Over there.”

Observing where her eyes focused, you caught a glimpse of a recognizable side profile. The owner’s eyes were completely taken by whatever he was drawing on the fold-up desk he brought out from the storage room. By the tedious action of his right hand going up and down, you’ve gotten so used to his part-time identity as the night guard to entirely dismiss his current status as a university student.

Architecture specifically as he first introduced himself to you. The same path your oldest brother, Christopher, worked in. The look of tenacity Jeno presented as his eyebrows continuously scrunched, his crescent orbs hastily spied his work for any unnecessary details and his veiny hands brushed his already messy hair, you were profoundly reminded of Christopher when he was designing his possible future house. You were 8 years old, and he was 22, who just got married. He explained how many floors it’ll have, what rooms to put and what extra furniture he’ll place to make it feel more at home.

Seeing how exceptional his art skills were, you started to sketch like him. With flowers first, it turned into bedrooms and sceneries of your neighborhood. You felt your shoulders rise in accomplishment when you were able to accurately draw people. As much as you credited Benjamin and Liam the most in your works, it’ll only be within yourself to know that you also held a soft spot for Christopher.

Excusing yourself to Princess Diana, you bravely yet quietly ventured into the Foreign Art Room. Hiding first from one of the cement columns, you resumed watching him sketch. Instead of a pencil, he used a black pen with a tip as thin as a pencil. Your assumptions would be it was for a class, basing it on him informing everybody earlier that he’ll be inactive for the remaining hours of his shift to focus on his midterm requirements. That must be difficult to balance, yet he still does everything expected from him. Maybe the second cup of iced coffee beside him stimulated his bones and mind, letting his imagination free.

Through the limited space, you tiptoed whilst holding the side of the column to make up his work. There were 2 and a half rectangular shapes stacked on top of each other, the third one he was still tracing. A sign encrypted with tiny written words you couldn’t decipher, the beauty and modernity of Jeno’s plate cannot go unappreciated.

“That’s absolutely beautiful.”

Sweet words you didn’t think would bounce back in the room, Jeno’s pace ceased whilst you hid again. Art pieces capable of walking weren’t allowed here, he locked the door even beforehand! Or he thought as he was rushing to get his work done because one of his terror professors moved up the deadline to tomorrow morning. Not even 25% finished, he petitioned for everyone’s cooperation just for tonight.

He used up his 2 days of not having the night shift for other projects, and not wanting to ruin his perfect attendance, he proceeded to show up.

The voices from the foreign paintings around him hushed for him out of respect. So possibly someone snuck in, his head looking around for intruders. But only did he quit it when he saw your blurry reflection leaning against the column. The glass windows slightly mirror back what it sees, without you knowing that.

Not to mention, the small bit of your lilac dress was left out. Of all people, it was you?

“Do my eyes deceive me or is Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) inside when she’s not allowed so?”

To break the killing tension, he tested the waves with an innocent taunt. Never did you reach out to him, so least to say he was entertained whilst keeping his distance.

Fixing your proud stance, you responded in a low baritone voice you used to persuade numerous men in her adventures. “Uhm no, I don’t know who she is.”

As intelligent as you were, Jeno was a few steps farther than you this time. Educated about the risky ways you’d get around and one of them was changing the pitch of your voice, he heartily laughed at your unsuccessful attempt.

“Okay don’t lie, (Y/N). I can see a trail of your dress and your cloak. Oh, your reflection too.”

Damn, you peeked a little to realize that he was correct. Hauling your dress back in to readjust your outfit, you pushed your hair back before appearing to him. Though when you did such, you didn’t suppose that he was practically beside you the entire time. Bumping into his towering stance of 5’10 while the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up, your proud posture loosened up. He even discarded his blazer. A few more inches, he could’ve cornered you on the column if you didn’t take another step back.

Has he always been this tall or were you so used to your boots having high heels under? Oh wait, maybe because you wore flats this time because it’s making your toes sore. Your head bowed from struggling to maintain eye contact with him, your palms caressing your cheeks that suddenly heated up. Clearing your throat, you straightened your back again like nothing happened.

Jeno thought otherwise, shrugging his shoulders as he chuckled. He’s never seen you get shy, not that it was a bad thing either. The temptation to play around it more was there, but he was running out of time for his assignment.

“Come in. I’ll let you off the hook this time.” His arms opened up, allowing you access to such a wonderful exhibit. Paintings from different European periods, miniature versions of famous infrastructures inside glass containers, and replicas of Greek columns in the front entrance, no wonder it’s important to protect them all.

“Are you sure?” Watching him return to his spot, which was a bench in the center of the exhibit with a table in front, it didn’t process that you were gawking at his toned back. His broad shoulders and the evident muscles in his arms while he stretched, your eyes were speedy to look away when he tried to take a glance at you.

“I don’t think the paintings here and I mind.” Sitting down again, he tapped the vacant space beside him. “Feel free to watch me draw if you want to.”

Settling by his side, he recommenced where he left off. Now with a closer view of his piece, it did look like a building as you thought. He was sketching the remaining outline of the 3rd floor of this hypothetical place, continuously checking his ruler to monitor if the lines were consistent. Able to pick up on the words of the sign beside the building, you wowed with one hand on your lips.

“You’re redrawing Seoul National University Museum of Art?”

“One of my plate assignments was to visualize a renovation of a certain place, so I chose the museum.”

“Why so?”

“Well,” Jeno shook his pen so the ink could come out. “This entire place comes to life with the royal plate, so I think we should expand the space and bring in more art pieces to life if we add another extra floor. A rooftop area for visitors and events would be fun. And definitely, we should modernize the exterior and interior a bit because it looks outdated personally. That’s also what my friends think too.”

Noticing the minor details of his plate whilst removing any unnecessary pens so it wouldn’t smudge, “Huh, I quite agree with you.”

For the first time since his night shift, you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), came into an agreement with him. He became so accustomed to clashing opinions that now, you had no contrasting points to make at all. A good change perhaps was what he’s witnessing.

“Woah, who are you agreeing with me and where’s (Y/N)?” He creased his brows whilst locking eye contact with you. This time, you didn’t wince away and just nudged him on his shoulder to get back to work.

“Hush, Jeno. Isn’t that due later? Get to work, I’ll roam around here for the meantime.”

After decades in this museum, you’re enlightened with the foreign paintings in which some you’ve heard of in your younger years and some that were created beyond your time. The Birth of Venus, Liberty Leading the People, Girl with a Pearl Earring, there’s an advantage of learning about their stories that humans couldn’t interpret. Logical that this section must be off-limits because these pieces were extra special, yet there’s so much more than what meets the eye.

There’s peace in silence while you wandered around, though it doesn’t hinder only at the art. Jeno hasn’t uttered a word since he got back to drawing, and once you asked him what’s doing now, still no answer back. Odd, he’s constantly awa-

Oh, my. You must’ve jinxed it.

Your eyes laid on Jeno leaning forward on his desk with his arms serving as his pillow, resting his head sideways. Soft snores and minimal movement in his upper body to shake the growing cold temperature of the room, he was sleeping like a log.

Putting into perspective, he hasn’t acquired enough rest specifically this past 2 weeks. The endless number of plates due making him work extra during his shift rather than sleeping in the slightest, exhaustion must be an understatement. Coffee no longer pushed him to his maximum for this week even.

But this was the path he chose, and it’ll have its challenges. Still, if you could relieve the stress in any way, you would. This would be one of the ways to repay for all the rudeness you’ve passed on him. Scurrying to his side, placing the plate on the side with his other things. You returned the caps of his open pens so they don’t spill. They must be expensive, recalling how Jeno shared the cons of being an architecture major to Princess Diana. One was the pens needed for sketching, and any tiny damages to them meant buying them again.

With his watch on clear display, he only had 2 hours left until his shift was done. Then, 4 hours until his plate assignment was done, and his current plate was far from done.

The blunt impulse to wake him up slithered your mind, though his calm state deflected your duty. As if you were on board a ship again for your explorations, you paid attention to the view with a relaxed mindset.

Lee Jeno specifically was the view.

His coffee-stained lips were parted and his sharp nose breathing in and out at a relaxing pace, he must be dreaming a happy moment the way half his lips curved into a smile. If he’s resting well, then you too would be calm.

Because of your past disinterest in him, only at this moment did you observe how sharp his jawline was and the cuts on his arms he sought refuge in. No matter how many times you tried to deny Hera’s compliments of him on the side, you couldn’t.

Lee Jeno embodied attractive features; both physical and emotional.

Back to his plate, it’ll put him at a disadvantage if he submitted the way it looked before he passed out. But you remembered all those extra details he mentioned and wanted to add to this project. Being an explorer, you documented all your ventures through words or drawings. You’re fast to adjust to anything new too.

For all the good he’s done for everyone, he only deserved some help in return.

Your version of help was sketching the remaining details of this plate, using other pens for more emphasis. It’s a risk also, but no way could you turn a blind eye on Jeno this time.

Around 5:30 am, Jeno’s eyes blinked open due to a brightening light from the outside. Stretching his limbs, he finds a velvet cloak wrapped around him like a blanket. But before he could question it, he pulled his arm in to see the time on his watch.

“Fuck!” He cursed, realizing that his so-called 10-minute snooze break aborted.

“Oh my, you’re awake!” From his frazzled state, there you were. So put together yet active, some strands of your hair falling down your face even with your hair up in a ponytail. “How was your sleep?”

This whole time he could’ve been woken up, yet you chose not to. You’re aware of his deadline, yet you let him rest entirely. He could’ve burst out in stress, yet he didn’t. You and he may have started on the wrong foot, yet it’s impossible of you to do such an evil thing. He’ll just have to tolerate the outcome later today.

“Refreshing. I really needed it.” Packing his things in his bag and closing the table, you trailed along as he exited with you. Locking up, he has 30 minutes left to accomplish the cleaning. A long good morning indeed.

But his worry of that vanished when you admitted that you had it all covered.

“Everyone helped out in cleaning, plus there are no damages made either.” From your hand, you returned one of his keys that was on his guard blazer. “I double-checked the Oriental Room and locked the doors again.”

“Why are you suddenly so nice to me, (Y/N)?” He questioned with confusion, wearing his blazer again and patting away any creases. He placed your cloak over you again like a true gentleman.

Without a word, you simply invited him to walk you back to your exhibit as parts of the sun began to rise. As you returned to your section, your fellow figures readying themselves to pose again,

“It’s my way to apologize for my very rude first impression and the succeeding moments after. I was too cooped up in my past that I was too afraid to let humans in again, night guards in particular.” You admitted, removing your cloak and placing behind your chair like always. “I’m so sorry, Jeno. Everyone was right about you and your kind heart.”

“About time.” Cleopatra’s sultry voice cut in, laying on her day bed.

Before you had the chance to flip off, Jeno mediated swiftly. With a gentle smile, “No worries about it. I’m just happy you’re okay, after all you’ve been through.”

“Can we start over then?”

“Absolutely.” With his free hand, he brought it out. No matter what kind of introductions, shaking one’s hand was the best way to start a friendship. “Good evening. I’m Lee Jeno, the new museum night guard.”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N), explorer and author.” Sighing at his humor, you still replied by shaking his hand. “And I believe you’re mistaken, Lee Jeno. It’s a good morning.”

Seconds after, you imitated your typical pose and smile. Only now, the latter was more genuine. Finally, a fresh start to end your agony.

Once the sun fully revealed itself, every figure including yourself froze back to sleep. Something Jeno wished to catch up on if it weren’t for his damn plate. He was so screwed, already contemplating his next steps if he does fail this class. The possibility of getting delayed in all aspects, he dreaded it already.

Heading back to his dorm, where both his roommates completely passed out from soju on the couch, he sat by his work desk and turned on his night lamp for more light since the sun wasn’t strong enough yet.

With another cup of coffee, he cracked the joints of his knuckles and laid out his pens. He had 2 hours left to submit this plate, and at most he should accomplish 50% of his initial plan. However, he didn’t anticipate such a gorgeous outcome when he brought out his plate.

Picture perfect of every detail he desired, even adding a rooftop area with that he’d love to have if ever the museum does go under renovation one day. Rather than setting the plate during the day, it was at night as the skies were dark and bright specks of yellow inside the building symbolized light.

So much for wasting coffee, he’ll just give it to Jaemin when he wakes up later. Below the final product, a note written in cursive was stuck on it.

 I knew you wanted to get this specific plate done, but you mustn’t compromise your sleep for it. It’s your inhumane professor’s fault!

To make up for my faults, I wanted to help you out. I paid extra attention to the details you spoke highly about, so I only hoped that I interpreted it correctly. It’s risky, but as someone who researched so much about me, would you be surprised that I did such a thing?

PS: Get back to sleep. I’m quite sure your desk is laid out the same way in the Foreign Art Room.

Respectfully,

(Y/N)

 Turning off his lamp, Jeno jumped the covers of his bed to continue his lost sleep. Without an ounce of care that he hasn’t changed into cleaner clothes, he’s relieved that he won’t flunk his class.

Most of all, he’s relieved that you’ve melted the ice in you and allowed kindness to come in. Jeno may never understand how hard that must’ve been for you, yet he raved you for it.

“Oh, (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Surprise is an understatement when it comes to you.”

[astaroth1357]

Demon Brothers as Roommates

Intro:

So, the MC has left the Devildom and, of course, everybody is quite sad… But this time around, they have a little trick up their sleeve. With just a bit of magic (and training thanks to Solomon) the MC can now summon one of their favorite demon boys up to the human world with them! There's just, uh, one problem though… After being summoned to their side, their beloved demon now refuses to leave it.

Alright MC, enjoy your new demonic roommate!!

Lucifer

Apparently Lucifer is on sabbatical… And yes, he does appreciate that irony in that.

Lucifer actually has a surprising amount of human world money stashed away in alias accounts (because this man renting a cheap motel on business trips? Let's be real) so he uses that wealth to get them a place befitting his standards… which are high.

Spacious apartments in nice areas that would make even the upper middle-class shit their pants? Congrats, MC, that's where you're staying now!

Even with all that money, though, Lucifer CANNOT sit idle for a second. The guy is used to working all his life and just sitting around would drive him insane!

Expect him to still be running some Devildom affairs long-distance style while doing something else on the side, probably stock market stuff tbh.

Is going to want to pay for and provide everything himself but will respect the MC if they still want to work and split the bills (not to a ridiculous degree, though, like half-and-half because that would mean getting three jobs at least).

A lot of trips and vacations too, especially if the MC likes to travel. It’s a good excuse to relax while also technically doing something so he doesn’t lose his mind doing nothing in particular.

He is going to be that strict roommate who expects you not to be a slob and isn't afraid to say so. Regularly scheduled cleaning/organization days are mandatory because hygiene is important. Take some pride in yourself and wash up, MC. That kind of thing.

Also going to have short-fuse for… antics. If you want to prank him, do so at your own risk because he may prank back (and that’s not nearly as fun as it sounds, trust me.)

Mammon

Yeah so, living with Mammon is like the inverse of Lucifer. Prepare to be poooor.

Man has no human money, are you kidding me? Even if he did, he wouldn’t keep it for very long. Couples budgeting is a MUST if you’re looking to survive.

The apartment is going to be whatever the MC can more or less afford on their own with Mammon shoved in somewhere like a cheap lamp… Don’t expect a lot of room.

However, Mammon is great at the hustle. Man can work multiple jobs and actually be pretty dang good at them. For the most part, anyway. He may occasionally trip up and get himself fired, but he bounces back quick.

If the MC isn’t so moral he can also uh… “find” some extra money lying around too. Just be careful when playing with fire, right?

Even if they’re poor as shit, Mammon is still a blast to be around. The guy knows how to have fun on and off of a budget. Lots of “window shopping” (getting kicked out of stores for goofing off), nightclubs, amusement parks, and cheap fun. They’ll never be without a story to tell or a smile on their face!

He IS pretty slobbish though. He’s not going to remember to clean up after himself unless told, but he’s also not going to be bothered if they don’t do the same thing. A weekly cleaning day is going to be ideal unless they don’t mind living in a pigsty...

Prank waaaaars!! The kind of guy to get them both water guns and have a war in the middle of the apartment complex. Good luck getting any rest with Mammon around.

Leviathan 

Whelp, your room is now his room, quite literally MC. You had to pick the shut-in…

The guy isn’t exactly poor but what human money he does have is all wrapped up in his many interests… Merch interests specifically. 

Thankfully, he won’t take up too much space. Put him in a room with a desk, bed (or bathtub), TV, and computer and he’s good to go! 

He’s not going to be a complete bum, thankfully. There’s no way that they can get him to leave the apartment, but he can run small online stores (usually anime themed) or become a streamer. Probably enough to help pay the bills, but not much more.

If they don’t mind having a literally permanent housemate, then being with Levi has its own kind fun. Lots of anime marathons, movie nights, and game nights. Really, it’s just like how he was in the House, but now transported to the human world.

Is probably going to want a pet goldfish, snake ,or lizard so prepare to house Henry 3.0.

When he does leave the apartment, it’s to take the MC to conventions, concerts, or anime stores. He always manages to get just enough money for these trips, but never says where the money comes from… Best not to ask. Could be black market for they know...

… He’s a shut-in. He’s a shut-in roommate. Hygiene isn’t exactly his main concern. If they ask him to, he’ll make sure to clean up after himself, but he may need a reminder.

Can have a fun side, but just don’t mess with his stuff too much. He doesn’t need a Mammon 2.0 around too...

Satan

He's either hatching a plan for world domination or adopting 10 cats… One or the other.

About as poor as Mammon at first, but threat not. He won’t be for very long. Satan is intelligent beyond his years (or equivalent his years maybe?) so he’ll probably net himself several degrees within a couple semesters like a certified prodigy.

At that point, there really isn’t much to worry about (aside from student loans, join our pain Satan) but he can sell himself just fine and probably get some high paying job like a lawyer or doctor or whatever… I’m not jealous…

They’ll start out in a pretty modest place, but there will be upgrades fairly quickly when he starts racking it in so Satan’s a fairly decent choice as a roommate.

He does still have that nasty habit of breaking things when he’s pissed off, but that can be subverted by getting a pet! Just hold up whatever cat you own when he’s about to rampage then declare that he’s scaring/upsetting them and he’ll stop in his tracks. Works every time!

Probably going to be the most domestic out of the brothers. He enjoys cooking (and ain’t half bad at it either), shopping is a practical necessity, he’ll take care your pets like they were his own flesh and blood, etc.

There will even to be points where he’s in bed reading in the middle of the night with tea and reading glasses like some kind of grandma so take that image for what you will.

Satan is the prankster of the household, but he does his pranks more as a way to give grief to his enemies rather than for funsies. Be warned, if you poke this bear he will retaliate for sweet, sweet revenge and he has centuries worth of pranks behind him. Good luck.

Asmodeus 

It's a new party every night, sweetie, get used to it!

Asmo is the only other brother who has some amount of money to offer from his own trips to the human world, but it's just a modest amount.

Is totally willing to work to help pay for a nice place. He wants a building nice enough to host parties!

Would go back to modeling and maybe dip his toe into acting from time to time… He gets a lot of gigs (this IS the Avatar of Lust after all) so they won't be strapped for cash. Which is good, because Asmo is a very "business by day, but party every night" kind of person. 

Do know that his shopping is NOT going to slow down either. Keep an eye on the budget.

He’s also going to make friends wherever he goes so he’s going to want for them all to hang out at least somewhat regularly.

That being said, he can tone it down some if the MC so desires, just know that they can’t keep him cooped up in the apartment for too long or he’ll start getting antsy. You can’t keep this stallion locked up, MC, he needs to run free!!

Being with Asmo is going to be like having a free pass to whatever gathering the MC wants to go to, at least. He could even get them into red carpet events with just his sheer charisma, charm, and er-… “charms.” Who doesn’t want to meet their favorite actress or singer, eh?

But oh, sweetie, please don’t prank him! Life is too short to waste on silly games (he also just genuinely just doesn’t enjoy being messed with so best not do it).

Beelzebub 

Brave choice, MC, but quick question. How in the world are you going to pay your food bills???

Beel is a real sweetheart through and through but his stomach is NOT. That thing will eat them out of house and home! (Maybe even literally!!) Both of them are going to have to work and probably some pretty looong hours (cause he’s got no money either).

Honestly, Beel would be best as a personal trainer in the human world. He’s a pretty decent combination of tough but genuinely kind and motivating. (The fact that he’s pretty easy on the eyes would help out a lot too).

But the MC won’t have to worry about Beel sneaking off with someone just looking for some “quality time.” He’d take his job seriously, though he’s not particularly versed in what the human body can’t handle so only the really dedicated (or masochistic) would stick with him anyway.

“Good work last week, April! You did so well that we’re going to go from 500 pushups to a thousand! … I can see you’re worried, but I believe in you.”

But hey, he can deadlift well over 2,000 pounds without breaking a sweat so who has the balls to argue with him, anyway?

Trying out every restaurant in town would be a must. He’d even plan out vacations for them with the sole purpose of travelling the globe and tasting the different flavors. Food trips!!

He's neat enough since he used to tidy up a lot for Belphie so no need to worry about him picking up after himself (except for the occasional pile of wrappers. Toss those out unless you want ants)

I mean, you can prank Beel if you want. He'll be pretty good-natured about it as long as it stays harmless. Just don't ruin any of his food, got it?

Belphegor 

So… Belphie makes for some excellent décor! Really he is great at laying around and looking fantastic just… he’s not that great at much else...

Realistically, choosing Belphie as a roommate is kind like having a high maintenance pet. He’s good for love and cuddles, but he’s not going to be helping with the bills or anything unless they whine incessantly about it.

If the MC can make enough for the both of them, then it should be fine. They won’t get upset and he won’t be crabby but if not… Oh boy.

Regular job Belphie is a needy Belphie. He’ll come back from whatever job he’s working, likely a night shift, and demand attention or cuddles right then and there. He needs to recharge those batteries, after all...

If he isn’t working then he's at his happiest. He can even pull off being a “househusband” of sorts. He’s not going to go above and beyond the call of duty, but he can keep the place clean, get a basic meal on the table (provided someone teaches him some human recipes), and get groceries if he needs to… You know, basic domestic shit.

They’re going to have to come to terms with the fact that, at some level, Belphie just doesn’t believe in “common curtesy” or “human decency.” If some neighbors are being too noisy for his liking, he will troll them to oblivion and beyond. He may even get sued for it if he takes it too far, so the MC will have to keep an eye on him…

He’s the House’s #2 prankster, but unlike Satan he doesn’t need any malice to be a little shit. The MC will be pranked and it will be at the most unexpected times. Be warned...

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