#she does NOT know how to sew. what an example of not giving a fuck

[lonely--seeker]

I've gotten so used to sleep with my shark plushie I don't want to leave him ever again. He just fits perfectly and is soft? A pillow could never.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

how would the sdv townies react to a farmer that wears lolita / ouji fashion?

like imagine there's a new farmer in town and they tend the farm, go fishing or mining in the most impractical clothes ever !! (but it's pretty so who cares lol)

I searched for the meaning of lolita/ouji, because honestly this is the first time I've heard of it. Quite an enthralling article, by the way! Thanks anon, both for the question and the interesting information 💕🌺

For those who don't know what it is: basically, Lolita fashion is a Japanese subculture that was based on the clothing style of Victorian era and Rococo style. No one knows exactly when this subculture emerged, but Wiki said that it was somewhere around the 70s. Found a Tumblr post for an example of what it looks like, or you can look it up yourself. It's pretty, but it's definitely Hell on earth if you somehow think of working on a farm or in the Mines in such clothes 😅

Sorry anon, but I'll make it for bachelors/bachelorettes this time. Hope you don't mind 💕 Anyway, back to the question...

SDV bachelors/ettes react to a Farmer that wears Lolita/Ouji outfit while working:

_________________________________________

Ha, see! When Haley said that if a person wants to, they will always look beautiful and fashionable EVEN at work. EVEN if that job is digging in the dirt and picking up roots. And back then, people told Haley it was stupid and not practical. But Farmer is proof of her words, look at them! *Pointing at Farmer dressed up in a beautiful outfit that's covered in dirt and grass in a lot of places*. Ewww. Uh, or maybe not....

Sebastian thinks Ouji's gothic outfit is so cool, but doesn't understand why it's what the Farmer wears to pick pumpkins and cranberries. Do they like being stuck doing laundry for so long? Because he doesn't see the logic. They want to look pretty all the time? Okay, Farmer's choice. But they'll definitely need a tonne of washing powder, because dirt and dust will not spare the Farmer's pretty clothes (especially where the fabric is white).

Emily's heart cracked to pieces when she saw that Farmer had soiled their beautiful clothes in slime and monster blood. She was, of course, immensely glad that her chaotic friend was okay, but.... Maybe the Farmer will let Emily make clothes for them that are fashionable AND practical, to their taste and style? Plus the blue-haired girl wouldn't turn down the opportunity to try a new style in sewing clothes, especially considering how incredible and expressive Farmer's outfit are.

This valley seems to attract people with a bizarre choice of clothes. Alex doesn't understand why the Farmer is not satisfied with, say, an ordinary jacket and jeans. Or a T-shirt with jeans. Or any other clothes that don't look as weird. He's seen something similar to Farmer's clothes in Haley's fashion magazines with one eye once, but it's still weird to him. Especially working as a farmer in that suit in the summer heat all day.

Oh yes! Abigail recognised the style! A few years ago she'd always fought with her parents because they wouldn't let her daughter go out in "occult clothing" and couldn't understand that Abby had the right to express herself. The gothic Lolita style was her favourite, but she later wanted something a little more comfortable (and she's not a big fan of skirts). So Farmer, who is going to Mines in this outfit is either the bravest or the craziest person. The outfit is so cool, but it's kinda uncomfortable.

Shane almost choked on his beer at what he saw. A Farmer was seriously going to work in... this? Do they even know how much effort it takes to take care of a chicken coop alone, and that it's not a job for a fucking-? What is this shit anyway? Fashion? They kind of came here to become farmers, didn't they? What the hell does Shane care, though? Let the weirdo wear whatever they wants, he doesn't give a damn.

But that's completely impractical! Maru always prioritises convenience over beauty in her choice of clothes. Who would, say, be engaged in inventions and experiments in dressy clothes, when the probability of spilling machine oil or (Yoba forbid) chemical reagent on oneself is quite high? You can't wash such things afterwards, and it will be a waste of expensive fabric. The Farmer looks great (though a bit eccentric for Maru's taste), but you shouldn't be farming or fishing in such clothes.

As long as Farmer doesn't go overboard with their clothes and expose themself to overheating or difficulty breathing properly - then Harvey has nothing against their style. It's a bit odd and extravagant, but they're an adult and have the right to wear what they like. The worry comes, though, when the Farmer's told the doctor that they're going to fight the monsters in the Mines in these clothes. Yoba have mercy, maybe Harvey can talk them into wearing some protection, like helmet or something? Please, he's getting nervous....

Penny will be honest - as a child, she had secretly dreamed of some dress like this before. But having grown up, the red-haired girl became rather reserved and modest, afraid to step outside the bounds of comfort and afraid of the negative reaction of others. On top of that, such outfits were usually not cheap. Seeing Farmer running around in such a beautiful outfit and not really worrying about it getting ruined, while Penny could only dream of it made her feel.... envy? Sadness? Both? *Sigh* It's complicated...

Wow! Yo, sick outfit! Hey, Sam definitely remembers Abby used to wear something like that before her parents made her stop doing it. Farmer looks great! Except it's unlikely the clothes will be as chic after tilling a field. Or fishing. Willy used to say that some bait stinks for a week at least. So be careful, Farmer, it's easy to ruin an outfit like that.

This is Farmer's choice, but Leah should warn - going to the forest for mushrooms in such impractical clothes will end up with Farmer covered in cobwebs, leaves, and most likely, somewhere a sleeve will get caught on a branch and tear the fabric. As if the artist herself sometimes has a hard time with her clothes - blueberry bushes and thistles can be very treacherous and sticky. And also painful. That's why the Farmer's going to have a hard time. It is better to let them sacrifice one day without their beautiful clothes and go to the forest normally.

Elliot himself spends so much effort and time to style his luxurious and unruly hair, to iron his white shirt perfectly, to polish his shoes to a dazzling shine. The writer can't imagine such a thing - to do all the hard work on his appearance and clothes, to spoil everything in Mines at once. The Farmer looks so wonderful, don't they feel at all bad about ruining the expensive fabric of their clothes? Of course, Elliott is in favour of the idea of trying to look good at all times, but in some places it may be inappropriate.

[ravio-rants]

11, 12, and 14 for the OC asks!

-11. Is there a specific physical feature or item that holds special significance to your character? Why is it important to them?

For my twili group: they have a special tree! its a secluded spot where the 4 of them hang out a lot. its in the middle of a field, out of the way of major roads and towns. they found it one day while just wandering around, and decided that it was Their Tree. if one of them isnt around their usual spots, they are probably relaxing at the tree. I'll probably draw it sometime!

adding a hobic option as well because its funny, his staff is probably a very significant item for him. i think he wouldve gotten it when he became a full fledged wizard, which was also around the time he transitioned and came out as gay, meaning its the first magical item he earned, and he earned it as his true self. thats significant to him, even if most other wizards dont get it.

-12. How does your character react to change or unexpected situations? Are they adaptable or resistant?

raide is probably pretty adaptable! shes a very "fuck it, we ball" type guy. whatever happens, he'll probably be fine with it, as long as nobody is hurt by it. they would probably just shrug the change off and continue on with their day.

calen on the other hand.. he would be more resistant. dont get me wrong, he's willing to accept change, eventually, but its Scary! he gets anxious about it! he wont admit that though, at least not to anyone other than raide. unexpected situations are generally Not Welcome when it comes to this boyo. he Will panic about it. (unless its one of his friends asking for help with something. he would give the world for them, even to his detriment.)

kalt.. hm. i feel like he'd be slightly anxious aboutt change and unexpected situations, but he trusts the people around them so they'd accept it. itll probably be okay, right?

vang would probably be very calm and collected about all of it. change? alright, give her a day to plan things around it and everythings fine. she can figure it out. unexpected situations? she can probably work out what to do about it, if you give her a moment. (she's most of the reason kalt is fine woth change.) shes very reliable when it comes to most things.

hobic would rather live in a house that actively hates who he is on a fundamental level than face change or unexpected situations. this is a very literal example. his house hates him, but he's lived there so long that he would rather just Not leave actually. at least the house is predictable about it, you know?

-14. What is your character's preferred method of self-expression? Do they have any artistic talents or creative outlets?

raide loves so many forms of art! if you took a peek into his house, you would find art supplies of every type all over. sewing and instrument playing and drawing and painting and crocheting and embroidery and sculpting and- (his fav is just regular old drawing though.)

calen prefers to play music or write stories! both are very calming and in the moment things, and he can just get absolutely lost in them. his preffered method of self expression is probably his music specifically. he loves how music can explain things without the need for words at all.

kalt likes painting! hes not very good at it, but they dont care. they'll paint whatever the hell they want and if someone doesnt like it? thats their problem, not his. (its usually landscapes.)

vang likes to sing, she loves all sorts of music, but if it has lyrics? you bet she's going to be humming or singing it around the castle randomly. she does write her own lyrics sometimes, and then asks calen or raide to help her add a tune to it. (or vice versa, where one of them makes a song and then asks vang for some good lyrics for it!)

do spells count as a form of art? because if so, thats hobics choice. he also writes but he really just likes casting spells. or coming up with new spells. or fucking up spells-

[the-insomniac-emporium]

RE8 Ladies + Love Languages

While this isn't terribly long per character, I am putting it under a read-more for the combined length. Some characters have more details than others, partially due to how much I've written for them (and therefore had time to think about how they show their affections). For once the contents are not in alphabetical order. Crazy, right? PS there's a very, very brief implication of NSFW in Daniela's section.

Features the entire Dimitrescu family, Mother Miranda, Donna Beneviento, and as a lil bonus Ava.

Cassandra Dimitrescu:

Primary Love Language: Physical touch

Secondary Love Language: Acts of Service

Examples: Constantly wants to be touching some part of her lover, even if she sometimes pretends otherwise, from hand holding to making them sit in her lap. So goddamn touch starved. Preferably sleeps with her lover sprawled out on top of her, weighing her down, soothed by the constant pressure. Seriously, this woman needs someone to hold her as close as possible, running their fingers through her hair, pressing soft little kisses along her neck + shoulder. And then repeat. Every single day. For life.

Treating her lover’s wounds, or bringing them tea to soothe their nightmares, or monitoring their health when they're sick (see: Bound Blood + We Don’t Talk About That). Cassandra hates feeling like she owes someone, and isn’t fond of others owing her (because when they pay her back, she might end up owing them “the difference”). When it comes to love, however, all debts feel paid as soon as they are incurred. She does things for her beloved because she cares for them, expecting nothing in return. Sure, she’ll complain about the effort, but it doesn’t really bother her, and she truly hopes her lover knows that.

Mother Miranda:

Primary Love Language: Acts of Service

Secondary Love Language: Gift Giving

Examples: Despite the decades she has spent as a Goddess, commanding the willing masses, Miranda doesn’t put much emphasis on words. Instead, she values actions above all else. She doesn't care if someone says that they are devoted to her, she wants to see the effects of that devotion. In turn, she much prefers to show her affection rather than voice it, even if it leaves her lover less sure of her feelings. One must keep in mind that she is the leader of an entire region, and the fact that she chooses to personally take care of something for you means a hell of a lot. Even if it’s just making you a cup of tea whenever she brews some for herself, or something as big as setting up a studio for you and your personal projects, or simply ensuring that your favorite meals are added to the rotation.

Similar, in some aspects, to her preference to showcase her love rather than announce it, Miranda takes pride in her ability to select gifts. She remembers just about everything you ever tell her, easily memorizing things you express interest in. Though she won’t make a big deal out of it, you’ll often find little gifts from her lying around, casual reminders of how much of her attention is devoted to you.

Daniela Dimitrescu:

Primary Love Language: Words of Affirmation

Secondary Love Language: Physical Touch

Examples: What can she say, she loves to be worshipped. Having someone look at her with eyes full of adoration, one hand cupping her cheek, as they list a thousand reasons why they love her? That’s all she wants. Or sitting with her lover’s head in her lap, listening to them recite poetry that reminds them of her, while she runs her fingers through their hair. Ooh, or hearing them cry out her name like something holy as she all but buries her head between their legs. But don’t worry, she’s just as eager to return the favor, singing soft praises dedicated to her beloved. Admittedly, her compliments are sometimes a tad roundabout (so to speak).

“Mmm,” she’ll hum, “I’m the luckiest woman in the world. Living in a castle, my every need catered to, endless life, and, of course, the most darling little pet I could ever ask for. What more could I want?” Then she’ll pull her lover close, a kiss against their pulse point to claim them as her own. It’s impossible for her to determine her favorite place to touch her lover. There are little spots that elicit sweet sounds from them, then there are places where their warmth is a tad fiercer than normal, pure bliss against her own freezing skin. Wherever she touches them, it’s a silent declaration of her love.

Bela Dimitrescu:

Primary Love Language: Quality Time

Secondary Love Language: Words of Affirmation

Examples: It doesn’t matter what she does with her lover, as long as they are together, in the same room if not actively pressed against each other. Any hobby of theirs is one that she’ll instantly take interest in. An academic at heart, she loves to learn, regardless of the subject, and takes endless delight in learning from those close to her. There’s something incredible about the feeling she gets when she gets a chance to show her lover how much she remembers, and she sees that spark of joy in their eyes.

Considering her fondness for classical literature, it’s no surprise that she adores using language to convey the depths of her affection. Whether she’s quoting Sappho or Shakespeare, she often relies on dead poets to express herself. In turn, she cannot even begin to describe the feeling she gets when her lover returns the gesture, especially if they go so far as to write something original for her. More than once she’s tried to craft her own poetry, but has found herself lacking (at least to her own standards). One thing she enjoys is memorizing poetry written by someone from her lover’s home country, assuming that they’re not from Romania.

Alcina Dimitrescu:

Primary Love Language: Gift Giving/Physical Touch

Secondary Love Language: Quality Time

Examples: Considering the era in which she was born, it’s not terribly surprising that Alcina’s affection often manifests in less obvious ways. A hand on her lover’s back, guiding them along, or letting her knee touch theirs when they sit next to each other, or gently reaching out to give one of their hands a soft pat during quiet conversations. On top of that, she gives out gifts almost constantly. Oh, her lover very briefly mentioned enjoying a local artist? Well, Alcina will be certain to purchase several (or most) of their recent work. Did her beloved muse out loud about not having much jewelry? That won’t do! She’ll get them a large assortment, including plenty that bear the crest of House Dimitrescu. Everyone will know who her lover is, if only for the way that they are adorned with her loveliest finery.

Much like her eldest daughter (who likely takes after her mother), Alcina also enjoys the barest of interactions with her darling. With the endless stretch that is her potential lifespan, she knows that she has all the time in the world to learn new skills, or experience all that the village has to offer. Nothing warms her heart quite like the idea of getting to enjoy those things with the people that matter most to her- namely her partner and her children.

Donna Beneviento:

Primary Love Language: Quality Time

Secondary Love Language: Gift Giving

Examples: An odd mix of shy and calculating, Donna Beneviento is not one to rely on words, nor does she often take grand actions where others may observe. Instead, she works (and weaves) within the shadows. When it comes to love, she prefers to let her priorities reveal her feelings. Day after day, she chooses to spend time with her partner, regardless of the activity. If they ask for her company, she gives it without hesitation. She invites them to join her in the garden, or give input on her latest creations, and ensures that they are readily involved in just about every aspect of her life.

Being as talented as she is with crafting (both the overall art of doll-making and the somewhat related ability to sew all sorts of clothing), ‘tis not surprising that she also turns to gifts to express herself. From knitting hats in winter to soft blankets when her partner is sick, she provides for them in the easiest way she knows how.

Avaskian Caldwell:

Primary Love Language: Physical Touch/Words of Affirmation

Secondary Love Language: Quality Time

Examples: Arguably the most touch-starved person ever to exist, xer only possible rival being Cassandra. Struggles to strike a balance between hating being touched unexpectedly and wanting constant physical attention. Will give affectionate shoulder/back pats, loves forehead kisses/bumps, literally cannot sleep without cuddling someone/something (such as a stuffed animal). At the same time, a lifetime of severe anxiety has made it so that xe often relies on verbal encouragement from others to feel good/motivate xerself. Xe craves compliments, and defaults to poetry as a way of expressing love for others. One might think that being selectively mute might put a damper on this. However, if anything, it just furthers the value of xer speech. You know that xe cares about you if xe not only writes you poetry, but reads it aloud for you.

In true introvert/anxiety-riddled-bean fashion, Ava is also more than content to just chill with loved ones. Xe grew up in an admittedly fucked up family, but some of xer happiest childhood memories are of xerself sitting with xer brother, watching while he played through videogame after videogame, or sitting together on the big couch and reading. Years later, xe has a strong instinct to want to recreate those moments with xer new (slightly less fucked up) family.

[earnestly-endlessly]

hi! hope you're doing well :) do you have any domestic!cherik fics? or established relationship ones?

Hi anon, thanks for the ask. I'm doing very well, been super busy because I'm currently moving but it's all good. I have plenty of great domestic/established relationship cherik fics for you. I hope you enjoy!!

Domestic/Established Relationship cherik

Daycare ‘Verse’ – orphan_account, pocky_slash

Summary: A modern AU in which Charles runs a mutant daycare and Erik is his long-suffering engineer boyfriend.

Runs in the Family – Anonysquirrel (chibirisuchan)

Summary: Alex knew his own reputation. Hell, he'd started some of his own reputation, because it kept some of the smarter thugs off his back. Everyone knew Alex's reputation. There was no way Hank didn't know his reputation, but he'd brought Alex into a house with some really expensive things and a lot of innocent little kids and his too-friendly, too-harmless dad.

But clearly Hank hadn't told his family anything about Alex, just like he hadn't told Alex anything about his family. At least, not about the brain-breaking parts of his family.

"I didn't know where to start," Hank said, for the dozenth time.

Gift of the Magi, But Screw it Up – librata

Summary: He doesn't know if he's buying too much, too little, or even the right things at all, because he's never entertained a guest as important as Edie Lehnsherr.

Making perfect – aesc

Summary: As is the case with most trials in Erik's life, this one starts with Charles gazing beseechingly at him and asking him for a favor. Not that their going-on-three years relationship is a trial, even though it started with Charles giving Erik the full benefit of sad blue eyes and asking him if he wouldn't mind opening his car door since he'd locked his keys inside, but still.

Continue firm and constant – aesc

Summary: Moira hasn't seen her old partner in saving the world from threats human and intergalactic, Erik Lehnsherr, for a few years. When she finally does see him again, she finds a man different from the one who's been with her down in the dark and the dirt and the blood... or maybe he isn't so different after all.

After School Special – listerinezero

Summary: Charles was barely seventeen and Erik was his social studies teacher. But after almost fifteen years together, does it really matter how they met?

Terrifying Domesticity – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is the most dangerous and notorious mafia boss around for miles, and yet the strangest things terrify him.

For example: his children, and his very pregnant mate.

Trying is Half the Battle – Pookaseraph

Summary: Post-Cuba, no divorce, Charles and Erik are in an established relationship and when Charles gets sick with a random flu bug, they discover that Charles can get pregnant. They then try to get pregnant, and try, and try.

We’ll all be gone for the summer – pocky_slash

Summary: Charles and Erik's usual family beach vacation gets a little bigger when they agree to watch Erik's teenaged twins for the summer. Charles is looking forward to a chance to bond with his step-children. Erik is terrified of screwing them up even more.

A Summer Day So Late in Coming ��� helens78

Summary: Fifty years after they fell in love, Erik comes to Charles with a proposal that rocks Charles's world.

Still Going Strong – JackyJango

Summary: Speaking of forty-eight, Erik hates it. Hates it even more that others are aware of it. While he’s pragmatic enough to know and accept that aging is inexorable, the increase in number gives the people around him the freedom to pounce at him with questions, opinions and advice he'd fought to keep at bay all year.

Besides, Erik believes that youth is a state of mind, not a phase in one’s life.

You have a child’s mind in a man’s body, Charles constantly tells him.

But despite his age, Erik is healthy. He works out daily. His muscles are steel and he can dead-lift four hundred pounds. He can break bones without breaking a sweat. Most importantly, he can still carry Charles to the bedroom and fuck him senseless. And as long as Erik can do that, he’s perfectly happy.

Before You Attempt Me (Fair Warning) – kianspo

Summary: Charles helps Raven get ready for the prom. Surprisingly, that part goes well. The prom itself not so much. Erik cooks a lot of unhealthy comfort foods and is incredibly patient. Charles mostly frets about everything, until Erik does something neither he, nor Raven see coming.

And now you will not be alone any more – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik gives driving, sewing, and cooking lessons, soothes nightmares, bolsters self-esteem, and still can't figure out why Charles keeps smiling at him like that.

Some sense of touch and a melody – pocky_slash

Summary: On a day when Charles, for once, finds himself saying the right thing to everyone he sees, he allows himself to be talked into a field trip to a local orchard.

It’s kind of our whole thing – pearl_o, pocky_slash

Summary: After two years of best friendship, Charles and Erik thought they knew everything there was to know about each other. They're surprised, then, when their first summer as a couple reveals that they have a lot to learn about each other and themselves.

Indulgence – grim_lupine

Summary: “The children are still asleep,” Charles murmurs groggily, flinging an arm out as if searching for Erik beside him. “The house is still standing, this is a ghastly hour, and more importantly, I’m still here. Why do you insist on doing this every morning?”

Your Father’s Daughter – ConsultingWriter

Summary: Wanda proves just how much she takes after Erik.

Pietro reeled back before leaning back in "They didn't tell you what happened? Wanda got in a fist fight and totally wailed on this guy, I mean, on one hand I feel kinda embarrassed for him, but it was so epic."

Erik's eyebrows shot to his hairline. Wanda got in a fight? That was....surprising, to say the least. Wanda tended to take after Charles in temperament and preferred talking to violence.

This Crazy Game Called Life – chiasmus

Summary: Raven declares game night in the mansion. Sean finds an elephant, Erik inherits one hundred unwanted cats, and Charles scars Hank for life with misdirected dirty thinking. This is five thousand-something words of crack with a dose of schmoop. I'm not sorry. Written for this kink meme prompt: Raven is tired of the boys going off to play chess (if they're even playing chess!) and pulls out a load of board games from one of the closets in the mansion. Madness ensues.

To my roomba with love – sareyen

Summary: There are a lot of things that Erik loves about Charles. He loves all of the obvious things; Charles’s kindness, his intelligence, his laughter, his eyes. He also loves the little private things; the way Charles sneaks Erik his unwanted tomatoes, his warbled opera singing in the shower, that sensitive spot on his hip.

And he loves the silly things about Charles, especially the way the man has a habit of talking to inanimate objects when he thinks no one is looking. Charles has conversations with the kettle, the washing machine, and their roomba – and every time Erik eavesdrops on him, he falls in love with the man a little bit more.

Everything About it is a Love Song – pocky_slash

Summary: Erik's spent fifty years being a figurehead and he's ready to leave that behind. Luckily, so is Charles.

(aka Old Retired Dudes in Love)

A Very Xavier-Lehnsherr Christmas – zamwessell

Summary: Erik is discovering new things about Charles Xavier all the time. Charles sometimes talks in his sleep. Often about food. Occasionally in Latin. Charles has a scar on his left thigh from attempting to demonstrate relativity to a girl by sitting on a hot stove. Charles doesn’t mean to be so loud when they make love, but sometimes Charles can’t help himself.

Charles is a voracious reader. Charles has an unspeakably filthy imagination. Charles will try anything in bed twice to make sure he wasn’t wrong the first time.

Charles is unexpectedly fond of Christmas. Perhaps that is not the phrase. “Unhealthily obsessed” might be better.

The fluffiest holiday fluff you ever read in your dang life.

Of Crabs and Castles – flightinflame 

Summary: Charles and Erik take their children to the beach. Wanda builds a sandcastle, Nina makes some friends, and Pietro gets some exercise. Some family fun in the sunshine.

Bring Your Daughter To Work Day – listerinezero

Summary: Charles brings three year old Lorna to class with him.

Glasses – grim_lupine

Summary: Charles blinks at him bemusedly, but Erik barely notices because Charles is wearing glasses— wire-rimmed, and Erik can feel the metal humming, traces without touch the way they follow the curve of Charles’s nose and rest behind his ears.

Genetics Isn’t Sexy – pocky_slash

Summary: Charles lectures. The kids aren't very responsive. Erik, on the other hand....

Peanut Butter and Honey (The Fairytale Remix) – pocky_slash

Summary: Once upon a time there was a Princess named Anya who lived in a house with her Daddy and her wicked stepmother Charles. (A wicked stepmother is the person who comes and lives with princesses and their daddies after their mommies go away.) She had a best friend named Leroy, and one day he was lost.

The Bystander (The Consultant (aka A Westchester Telepath in the Avengers Tower) Remix) – Nanimok

Summary: When it comes to Professor Charles Xavier, telepath, SHIELD consultant and compulsive flirt, no one is safe.

Not even the Big Three.

[aquilaofarkham]

title: mishpachah rating: T+ word count: 3,085 summary: Five years after rebuilding the manor—and the birth of a new Belmont into the world—Trevor decides to share an old recipe with his newfound family.

For @fibulaa 💛  Thanks so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

The first bread Trevor Belmont ate while living his newly orphaned vagabond life was so dry it cut at the inner walls of his throat. He swallowed each bite with grimace after grimace, knowing that despite the pain, the already hardened child of thirteen could stave off starvation for a little while longer. Until he tasted the faintest tinge of copper on his ruined tongue.

Putting those years far behind, he now stands in front of a wooden counter, blurry eyed and with a yawn reminiscent of a sun drunk cat. It seems clean at first glance but in every corner Trevor notices fragments of past meals which he tried wiping away once they were finished and placed on a more pristine table meant for family. Bits of salt, half minced vegetables, and crumbs of bread much softer than the ones belonging to a later childhood he would rather forget. This kitchen, warm in its early morning sunlight, was the final instalment of the manor, newly risen from the ashes. Or rather, simply rebuilt thanks to the calloused, blistered, and splintered hands. No more ruined stone, no more fire blackened beams holding together little less than an architectural skeleton. The somewhat mirror image of Trevor’s lost home has been faring better than the castle. Too many memories, fresh, ranging from bitter to incomprehensible.

Slowly, he grows conscious of his surroundings and his own self. A continuing habit of being the first to wake not just in this manor hold but in life. Reluctantly opening his eyes prior to dawn covering the landscape while still traveling alone only to drag a pair of worn boots back along a similar muddy road. Trevor never wanted to wake up before the sun. He just couldn’t bear to stay in the same place for much longer whether due to the laundry list of dangers or more often than not, his newfound hatred of whichever backwater hamlet he unfortunately found himself in.

He’s happy to wake up early. Happy to never feel a need to leave or escape, happy to know that lack of food replaced with pints of liquid pleasure mixed with death will never plague him again. Happy to prepare breakfast in a hot iron pot over a well stoked fire. What he thought he lost forever has come back, along with new additions to the family he’s carved out.

Another presence bounds her way into the kitchen and ambushes Trevor from behind. He’s not old—not yet, he’ll give it time—but years of drinking have made their permanent stay, dulling the more acute senses. Makes it easier for a five-year-old to catch him off guard. Trevor’s eyes bolt open as tiny arms hold him in a tight cage.

“Good morning, papa!”

His ears ring at the sound of Mirele’s loud voice, but at least he won’t have to worry about nodding off. He stares down at the youngest Belmont who looks as though someone had split Trevor and Sypha straight down their centres into four pieces and sewed each differing half onto the other in order to create a new person. A homunculi of messy dark chocolate hair, bright eyes shining with blue ice, full rosy cheeks somehow conspicuously smeared with some sort of dirt or jam, and enough energy to wear out an electric powered jackrabbit. 

“How’s my little monster doing this morning?” Everything Trevor says is laced with his own personal touch of affection and Mirele loves it.

“Mama and papa are still asleep. Help me wake them up! Pleaseeee?”

This doesn’t surprise him; Sypha has always preferred to savour her last moments of sleep longer than normal and Alucard is… well, Alucard.

“Tell you what.” Trevor places a lid onto the simmering pot with a heavy clank. “While this heats up for our breakfast, we’ll go wake up those lazy bones.”

“Right!” Hand in smaller hand, the two make their way upstairs into the shadowy master bedchamber. Curtains drawn with only a sliver of light cutting its singular path across the floor and over two distinct lumps covered by blankets and furs. They seem conjoined, linked in each other’s arms, unaware that a third party has been missing for long enough. Mirele plunges into the room first, jumping onto the bed as all children do when parents refuse to join the land of the conscious. She playfully shoves and cuddles her way between the two bodies who sink deeper beneath the covers, lazily moaning like ghosts.

“Mama! Papa! Wake up! It’s time to get up!”

Trevor hopes that his tactic of throwing open the weighted curtains works in a more effective manner. Listening to the rising chorus of wordless protests coming from behind, he’s pleased with the results. “Never thought I would be the one setting a good example for our daughter.”

“Do not get cheeky, especially this early.” Sypha’s response spills out like running water. It’s clear her mind isn’t quite all there yet. But she can scoop Mirele into her arms, find every ticklish spot, and illicit giggles that only canines might hear. “At least we both know how to have fun, right my sweet?”

“Vampires… nocturnal…” A deeper, muffled voice emerges from under one of the pillows.

“Something you’d like to share with us, Alucard?” Trevor quips, amused at how the other father of the household can never seem to shake off his morning dishevelment. Perhaps sleeping in a coffin would help—a very large one so he doesn’t have to be alone. Alucard reluctantly removes the pillow as tangled heaps of gold fall over his face.

“Vampires are supposed to be nocturnal. Would you rather I burst into ashes upon contact with the sun? Think of our girls, Trevor.”

“We’ve all seen you in the sun before, it’s about as dangerous as a clove of garlic.”

“I have my own means of physical protection. Far beyond your measly human comprehension, love.”

“Personally, I’ve been able to comprehend you plenty.”

Mirele stares up at Sypha, her bushy brows furrowed. “What does… comp… sshhheshion mean?”

“It’s just another word your fathers use whenever either of them want to feel smart.” 

Alucard gives Sypha a gentle pinch on either side of her abdomen. “I thought you were on my side.”

“What about my side?” Trevor asks, excelling at the greatest strength he possesses—the ability to never take anything seriously, only when he must.

“I’m hungry,” Mirele speaks up. “Hungry and bored. Can we eat now?”

--

This life is not normal, but then again it is. It always has been for them. Normal once meant coming together because of violence, encroaching darkness, and some flimsy prophecy stringing them along one dead body at a time. A prophecy which never said what had to be done after they followed it to the hard earned letter. Perhaps that’s why Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard floundered afterwards. No instruction on how to live their upturned lives.

Fuck prophecy.

They made this life by their own standards and in accordance with their own desires. They loved how they wanted to love and no prophecy could have foreseen Mirele. How she calls for her father while both Trevor and Alucard turn their heads at the same exact second. How she quickly calms herself when presented with a bowl of warm oatmeal drowning in honey and wild fruits hand plucked from the surrounding forest. But it’s not enough. Nothing ever is for someone always growing, always wanting more from life at such a young age.

“Can I have bread?”

Trevor, half way through his bitter coffee, turns to Sypha then Alucard as all three parental figures exchange glances. They haven’t the heart to tell Mirele. No bread at the ready, only the necessary ingredients and a considerable amount of flour bags to blanket Enisala. There’s the option of making it themselves, yet it depends on a certain someone’s capacity for patience.

“How do you feel about baking our own?” Trevor’s voice wavers, which he tries to mask with his characteristic dry tone. It’s been a long time since he’s made bread. Then again, helping the manor cooks was a somewhat selfish endeavour as it meant extra servings for the baby of the Belmonts. Yet his proposal goes over well with Mirele, whose inherited eyes light up at the prospect of trying something new.

“I wanna make bread! Can we? Can we please?”

“When was the last time you baked anything, Trevor?” Alucard asks, genuinely curious and with a healthy dose of skepticism. “You still won’t tell us much about anything concerning your former life, let alone the sort of foods your family ate.”

Trevor feels a twinge in his gut—still better than a punch. His two lovers, even his daughter, they only know of his mother; a matriarch in her own right. They know her name, the monsters she killed, and not much else. Trevor’s excuses: he doesn’t remember anything about her, despite the fact that he does. He didn’t know her for very long or very well, so there’s no point in missing her. Trevor did know Sonia and he does miss her, sometimes more than he can handle. Then the easiest excuse: it’s just another self-preservation tactic.

Out of this inner reflection comes an idea. It breaks tradition in a way. For the Belmonts and other Jewish families, everything is passed down through the mother—recipes, forms of worship, blood memories, centuries old tactics of bruising one’s knuckles and temples. Trevor doesn’t think this slight deviation from his culture’s norm will make him any less of what he’s always been. Mirele will simply have to pick up where he left off when she’s grown.

He doesn’t want to think about that now. She’s only five after all. One lesson at a time. 

“Alright. Gather round, pupils. The bread we’re making isn’t just any bread. Forget everything you know and everything you’ve been taught because this will be the closest thing to heaven you’ll ever taste.”

“How dramatic…” Sypha mutters under her breath. Alucard joins her amusement with a subdued chuckle. 

“I believe you were partially his influence.”

Trevor knows how much trouble he’ll be in if he puts Mirele through the most agonizing cruelty of waiting a second longer than necessary. Fearful of her pint-sized wrath, he gives everyone the order to start gathering ingredients: flour, eggs, honey, and some indulgent herbs to make this particular bread something special. As much of a strategic leader in the kitchen as he is when the world is coming to an end. With everything spread out on the countertops, Trevor guides his family step by step through the only recipe he remembers. He calls this bread “challah”, which Mirele immediately strains her freshly green vocal chords, trying to pronounce the word exactly as her father does. She quickly gives up and focuses on mixing the ingredients with an intense look—almost to a fault as bits of sloppy dough fly out of the bowl. Good. This enthusiasm is what Trevor wants to see.

Kneaded and allowed time to rise, the next step is the most important. Trevor divides the dough into four halves, then again, and again until each participant has their own handful of raw unbaked strips. 

“We have to braid them?” Mirele asks following his explanation. 

“That’s right. It’s what makes this bread different from all the rest.”

“Just like when papa let’s me braid his pretty hair!”

Every pair of eyes turns to Alucard, whose smile widens in that way which causes his eyes to shut tightly. Fangs happily bared as he pulls Mirele into his flour and dough covered arms while she giggles in delight. After they all return to work, her loaf turns out the same way as the braids she gives to him—lopsided, uneven, lacking a few outsticking stray hairs, but filled with affection and genuine resolve.

Three loaves are placed into the oven, including a fourth crudely constructed but still adequately done piece. Mirele is now more willing to play the waiting game—so she claims. Sitting in front of the oven while staring directly into its insides, utterly fascinated, oblivious to her surroundings. Unaware that her three parents are whispering behind her back. Eventually, Sypha has to gently pull her away with her bottom dragging along the kitchen floor.

“How about you and I do something a little more interesting while your fathers keep watch over things.”

“But what about the c… the calla!”

“Don’t worry, they will look after it. And we are not going far, my sweet.”

“We’ll make sure nothing burns down.” Trevor assures, despite it being Sypha who usually revels in cinders and ashes, intentionally or not.

The two retreat down the corridor past diamond shaped stained windows and into one of the manor’s smaller libraries where the cabinets reach the high ceiling painted in deep blue hues. Scattered from corner to corner are constellations of stars and midnight clouds obscuring each phase of the moon. Once when Alucard found Mirele curiously asleep atop a number of pillows when she should have been in her own bed, it was his decision to paint the library in new colours. Sypha moves aside an entire shelf of thick volumes as though trying to find a carefully hidden switch that will lead them into a secret chamber. It’s what Mirele hopes but turns mildly disappointed when the books do not in fact magically shift to reveal a stone passageway. Her soured anticipation is only countered when Sypha places a box on the desk.

“Can you guess what’s inside?”

“Is it treasure?”

“Close! You are almost right.” Sypha opens the lid just as Pandora did except there are no horrors, no evils to be wrought upon humanity. Mirele peeks inside and her eyes shine with the glistening silver of trinkets, pendants, and talismans. She resists the innate urge to reach her hands, still white with flour, into the box only to briefly experience the sensation of holding one between her fingers. Even children know when something is sacred.

“These belonged to your grandparents. They used them for protection and strength. A long time ago, before you were born, their home burned down and everything was destroyed.”

“Papa’s home?”

Sypha nods, grateful that this story now has its happy ending, slight as it may be. “However, when your other father started building the manor we live in, he found this box trapped amongst all the rubble. It managed to survive.”

“What do they say?”

Mirele points to one pendant molded in the shape of a sword. Inscribed along the curve of its ash-riddled blade are the Hebrew names of angels which must have been muttered by Sonia or Gabriel. The longer Mirele stares, attempting to decipher yet another new language, the brighter her cheeks grow red with frustration. Her mother acts quick just as her eyes begin to water. 

“It’s alright if you don’t understand what any of them say.”

“I can learn! Please, mama? I promise I’ll study really hard!”

Sypha’s lips curl as Mirele continues her begging. Oh the mind of a child. How quickly it changes.

--

The kitchen feels hotter, wafting through the air. Enveloping the room and everything caught between its walls. Trevor stands by the oven, a thick cloth ready in his hand. It shouldn’t take much longer. At least there’s no stench of something burning. Almost makes him pine for the days of his family’s massive stone oven and how he would sneak around at night and pick out leftover morsels from inside like an insatiable mouse. Not unlike the actual beasts which he hunted throughout the hallways before moving onto larger prey typical of a Belmonts’ work—or as large as his own runtish body mass could handle.

Minutes of quiet pass, still eyeing the loaves with a keen gaze. Trevor’s concentration soon broken by the feeling of two arms wrapping around his softening yet still robust midsection. Slow and careful, until his back is pressed against an equally broad chest.

“Can I help you?” He asks as Alucard buries his face into the curvature of his shoulder blades.

“You’re already helping.” The dhampir, unchanging in his physical appearance (a revelation both Trevor and Sypha refuse to acknowledge for the time being), tightens his embrace.

“Something wrong?”

“No… I just enjoy feeling how much softer and warmer you’ve become.”

Trevor’s cheeks blush ever so pinker and not because of the oven’s heat. By now he should be used to Alucard’s sudden bouts of outward affection.

“You even smell better.”

There it is. Trevor thought he would be waiting forever to hear that little jab, though said with nothing but a good heart.

“That might be the herbs you’re smelling.”

Alucard shifts around so that the two of them are side by side, cheek to cheek, as he chuckles in Trevor’s ear. “Come here.”

He doesn’t offer a kiss, not where Trevor was expecting. Instead of his lips, Alucard singles out every patch of stray flour on his face, kissing, wiping, even licking them clean. Cheek, jawline, and nose. Trevor’s expression twists into a ticklish, surprisingly delighted facade. 

“You’re a half vampire, not a cat.”

“Better to clean you now than later.”

“Always so fucking odd…”

“You love it.”

Much to his lucky stars, Trevor manages one curse mere seconds before Sypha and Mirele return. They let their daughter speak at a breakneck speed neither one can fully comprehend—something about silver pieces and whether they can teach her a new language—until one series of questions finally sticks.

“Is the bread ready yet? Can we eat it now? Can we please?”

Trevor placates Mirele by revealing the fruits of their joint hard earned labour: four freshly baked and perfectly shined challah loaves each representative of whoever did the braiding. She bounces in her chair before simmering down to an excited tremble once Trevor warns her of how they need to cool. In order to make this more of a meal, he rummages about in search of two other beacons from his childhood. He’s rewarded with one of the few fresh apples they have left while Sypha, ever in tune with his inner thoughts, grabs another small pot of honey for him.

Trevor thanks her by gently running his palm across her lower abdomen, over the growing bump. He keeps it there for just a second longer, a subtle gesture of love noticed by Sypha. Fingertips intertwined with each other, they join Alucard and Mirele at the table as the midday sun shines golden through the windows.

[fanficmemes]

Hello CB! I hope you are doing well. Here comes my submission for this CAS! (I know it is still Saturday but tomorrow I might be busy).

I humbly bring you another Star Wars fic. General Hux x Reader. Not that I favor that man (too young and pretty you know?) but sometimes you gotta make compromises for the sake of smut binges – and when I read the tags on this one, I knew it was CAS material. It is written in second person, and very well at that. Such prose. Very words. Much immersive! Wow. Kudos to the author. Now, let me sum it up for you (I'll stick to third person).

Reader is Hux's pet. She lives in his cold quarters, naked, most of the time, so when he comes back and embraces her she appreciates the warmth even more (which I thought it was already fucked up). Hux comes back and reader is comfy and blissful in his loving arms. While at it she reminisces of how she used to be an officer but now she does not take any decision anymore: he feeds her, bathes her, plays with her, fucks her... She wears a collar and lives “in a dreamlike state”. There is nothing more to life for her than what I mentioned.

He guides her to the bed but she needs assistance. Her muscles are weak because she spends her days resting and he likes her “weak, helpless and... tender”. Once on the bed he refers to her as “darling little calf”, “greedy nerf” (nerf= sw cattle used for milk and meat) and fingers her, teasing and edging her... After denying her the orgasm, he brings knife with a partially serrated edge. One of her favorites. He caresses her with it as he straddles her, grinding against her. And then he goes “what shall we have for dinner tonight?” and proceeds to suggest dishes while touching her with the knife in specific places (for example bbq was the ribs...). He nibbles and kisses her thigh and then decides that it's gonna be “a Sunday pot roast”. That turns her on. A lot. She loves to be used for her master's dinner – but unfortunately she can only do so a few times (cause anatomy. He takes a bit of flesh and then he has to wait for her to heal basically. It's not like Hux is permanently damaging it more than the overall state of dehumanization he has her in). He bites and draws blood and then he sinks the knife in her thigh until fat and muscle is revealed. He kisses and mouths the wound, tasting and nibbling the flesh and blood and it's painful but brings her ecstasy and then he deepens the wound with the knife again and pulls his dick out. Yep you guessed right. He fucks fucks the wound (stretching and tearing even more), and well, his tunic rubs against her core, he compares her moans to the bleating of a lamb and she comes as “his cock tenderizes her flesh”. There's a description of his cum mixed with the blood from the thigh wound – he takes the cum in his hand and makes her eat it.

Then he fixes her – gives her some liquid with nutriment for her to heal faster -, sews the wound and cares for her while she is still very dizzy, in and out of consciousness from blood loss, etc. When she's awake once more, she smells the aroma of her own flesh cooked filling his quarters and they both share her meat for dinner (he hand-feeds it to her and tells her that she is good and calls her little lamb). Then when all is eaten she licks his hands clean. And well, while all of this is happening she feels truly blessed and loved.

Who are we to judge am I right?

Still it broke me a bit, ngl. Probably because it was a reader insert in 2nd person and therefore quite immersive, but also because of the adoration and love among those two. Would have been an easier read if it were non-con, not a fucked up but loving and consensual relationship. Never though consent would make it worse for me but here we are!!

- Galactic Empire anon

Ummmmm wow truly did not like this!!!! 5.5/10

[hebijeeb]

hi ladies MMMWAH! late but i’m here to happily introduce: KANG RIEON, 24, kang family’s “crown jewel”, and (98.8% chance) your worst nightmare!! currently, she’s studying for her MBA but lbr she knows and everybody knows that she’s just wasting time away till dad marries her off for a cow or smth ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ her about and bio is here (though the latter offers very little insight, i’ll go more into detail under the cut!). and much like rieon, i do like to come in swinging so PLEASE ! give this a like for some spithy plotting—i’ll try to msg back asap and if you’re better on disc, i have that too so just lmk!!

now without further ado... !

everyone’s favorite brat was born after a long and painful 16 hours of labor and i’m sorry to say that rieon being a pain in everyone’s (mom especially) everything does not end there

though very very loved and spoilt rotten, she learns early on that dad’s neglect starts and ends somewhere from a misread ultrasound to the start of her first menstrual cycle (in which she can no longer cling and act like "one of the boys” for a morsel of dad’s attention) and that—no matter what she does, nothing will change the fact that she’s not a son

which, naturally, her train of thought is: ok, fine, fuck you too before going on to smash a bunch of his prized liquors

and from there—it’s pretty typical breaking/smashing/shattering shit for attention

so, it’s not surprisingly when she gets slapped into therapy by the end of middle school

read: it didn’t help.

but let’s table that and go back to the resume that comes with being the kang house’s only daughter aka the recipe to the perfect daughter in law: saebom c/o ‘17, hanbit university c/o ‘21. cello grade 7, cooks (ish), sews?

unmentioned: one dui (paid off), four charges of physical altercations (paid off), numerous charges of vandalism (paid off), 6 maxed out credit cards (paid off DUH), one pregnancy scare (Don’t)

pretty much lived all her life wild and reckless with 0 consequences (except the ones haunting her conscience or whatever that’s between her and god and her therapist)

personality wise, she’s seems to have inherited dad’s temper, though she hates that comparison. don’t even bring it up (trust me, her therapist’s broken window is example enough)

a clingy, affectionate starved person through and through, which makes it hard for her to stay single for even a week

high strung af so she’s prone to screaming and throwing things when the slightest bit of things upset her (i’m sorry for her fr)

generally though, comes off as sweet with the doll eyes and the heart-shaped smile though she’s very prone to switching up on people (judgy, snappy, the works)

her mood is erratic and rieon often lets it control her as such

idk she’s kind of a bitch :^( 

currently seeing two different therapists, one for her anger issues and the other is a family therapist in which nobody fucking comes so it’s just her bitching and mom sniffling in the corner lmao

that said, loves(?) her brothers but also she hates them lmao 

really just flat out jealous since they were kids given how differently dad treats them and feels bad about it since all they spoil her while all she does is act a brat but what can you do!

to be engaged to @jaehoxn​ and idk if you’re curious to how that’s going her search history includes stuff like ‘how many years can you get for manslaughter’ ‘what part of the body hurts the most to pinch’ and ‘can you make yourself temporarily deaf’ 

plots (very vague b/c it’s late)

exes/fwbs/crushes/w/e goes in here

best friend!! ****must have really thick skin n fast reflexes :))

EX FIANCE #1 was formerly childhood friends (engaged 2 be married) till rieon overheard their parents talking about how they’d match well or sth (age 7-10 idk) and she threw a fit, kicked apart his lego set (then they fought) and sent him home crying. they never spoke after that—but hey! engagement-to-be canceled! mb they can be friends again tho :”(

EX FIANCE #2 dated for a while in college and humored the idea of getting hitched, but the more her dad liked the idea the more rieon hated it so things ended up going south anyway

literally you keep running into her when she’s going ballistics crying over a broken nail or a tear in her pantyhose fuck u

u were taking too long to park so she bumper checked you with her audi lmao 

current ‘boyfriend’ who doesn’t know she’s engaged / alt: who does and dgaf! let’s go piss off dad together! 

[exploding-carrots]

I’ve been wanting to draw or write out my ‘future’ Bottom ideas for a while but haven’t gotten around to it. So here’s a long post of some head canons and a general story line of them vaguely developing as people at some point set after the live shows. If anything this is just sort of my personal AU for the characters getting together. Mostly focused on the progression of Richie and Eddies relationship and my thoughts on both of them being trans

- They’re both trans, (a lot of Ades characters give me trans dudes vibes but that is 70% me wanting to time travel and body swap w the man) Eddie is a bi trans dude (who medically transitioned young, but is not necessarily out as either) and Richie is a closeted/repressed bi trans woman who begins to come to terms w it during the whole island era

- Richie is also intersex, which while yeah is sort of canon in a mean way, is sort of important to me for the character 🤭 However she is not aware of the fact

- Eddie is dyslexic and has ADHD which both contribute to him struggling on and off (which was really just a gag they went with when funny) with reading/writing depending on how well he can focus on it at any given time (example: the Edies Bra sign vs the grave stone). I am not even going to attempt to say what is going on w Richie but the woman is a mess of unresolved issues and trauma complications

- After everything they go through in the live shows they do somehow make it back to the flat which is unexplainably the exact way they left it.

- Every single joke about Richie going off and fucking dudes from the live show is taken as fact. It is the most poorly kept secret amongst the cast. They literally do not talk about it unless Eddie is trying to make a point or piss off Richie

- Eventually Eddie IS trying to piss off Richie and does bring up everything about her sex life and the clothes, and... well everything else. After a ridiculous fight it somehow turns into an almost semi-serious conversation. Eddie makes the assumption that Richie is gay and Richie counters with the fact that she is genuinely interested in women but it’s a hell of a lot easier to get attention from specific types of men. Gets some wheels turning in both of their heads

- Personality wise they never really calm down, but they do start to slow down a little bit as it takes them longer and longer to recover from their fights. Obviously there is still the odd dart to the forehead or gentle push down the stairs but the ridiculous games and completions they make up take center stage

- they get weed at some point (Dave Hedgehog and Spudgun seems like a feasible source, because let’s be honest if Richie and Eddie tried to buy weed it would not work) that leads to all sorts of embarrassment because Eddie gets crossfaded as all get out and starts hitting on Richie. Which while having a precedent in their history (I mean, the first episode gives us that right away) takes on a new sort of meaning once the concept of bisexuality has been rolling around in their heads. Nothing particularly saucy happens at this point Bc they are high, drunk, and old but all of the actual acknowledgement of feelings start to really develop after this point

- in an attempt to do something with her time Richie picks up sewing and picks up where she left off with the wrap skirt and rubber underwear she made on the island. Starts to really develop the little wardrobe she wears when she’s alone. It’s a mix of the same awful button up shirts she always wears and some dresses and skirts along with a couple pairs of sexier (for Richie at least) under garments

- eventually Eddie comes home while Richie is still in her feminine clothing. Eddies Reaction is different from the first time he saw her dressed up that way since now there is a precedent. Eddies approach is much more “playful teasing” and fake surprise than it was previously.

- Slowly Richie starts dressing up around the flat more and more often as opposed to just when alone. Eddie ramps up with the pet names and husband/house wife dynamic they already had going on.

- THE MOMENT is when Eddie is leaving the flat to go to the bar and there is an ‘accidental’ kiss on the cheek along with his usual good byes. Eddie realizes what has happened immediately and bolts before Richie can say anything. Richie has a moment of “teehee that was nice” still in her little fucking house wife head space before it catches up w her.

- Richie panics, paces around the flat, gets changed like 8 times, cooks dinner, throws it away, takes it out of the trash, paces more, breaks like 8 things, and essentially just fluctuates between “Ooo Eddie fancies me” to “oh fuck the bastard is making fun of me again” to “it was an accident and Eddie is going to make it into a fight” back to “ooo Eddie fancies Me~”

- eventually Eddie comes home, pissed to hell and back way later than he’d normally come home. Richies passed out on the couch. Eddie wakes her up by pushing her over on the couch so he can sit. Eddie says something along the lines of “I’m fucking drunk so I’m only going to say this one” before saying some incomprehensible drunken rambling and pulling Richie into an awkward full kiss. It’s a nice moment for maybe about 5 seconds before he stands up again, pulls a pint out of his jacket, chugs it and says something about drunkenly passing out before doing just that across the coffee table.

- Richie just sort of gawks at Eddie sleeping across the table before giddily tossing a blanket over him and heading off to actually go to bed.

- relationship wise this really just sort of introduces a sexual/physical dynamic to their relation while ramping up their camp version of domestic life

- it’s Spudgun and Dave Hedgehog who actually say something to Eddie about it. They’ve always been in on the “oh look, it’s Eddies terrifying wife” thing. Probably only actually say something about it after the 2nd or 3rd actual display of physical affection they witness. It’s more of one of them asking Eddie if Richie really is his wife (in that half aware sort of way they observe things). This alone doesn’t change much, but it does takes a lot to get through to any of these repressed bastards

- Richie grows accustomed to the more feminine/soft pet names that Eddie uses for her. At one point Eddie uses more traditionally masculine terms which sets off “oh actually I am not a fan of that” in Richies head and leads her to asking Eddie to not refer to her that way. Leads to an awkward half coming out on Richies part. Eddie does genuinely switch up how he refers to Richie at this point and her gender just sort of becomes an silent fact that they both respect. Everyone else sort of knows them as those weirdos who have some sort of common law marriage going on and it’s not really questioned. This is the point where Richie starts to earnestly medically transition without really saying to much about, canonically she has been on estrogen pills before (even if it was a ‘mistake’)

- End game is essentially just them being casual about their identities and relationships in a unspoken sort of “well that’s just how it is” way that naturally sort of bleeds into a the other aspects of their lives.

- Additional note on Eddie being trans: Richie is already vaguely aware of this fact Bc obviously they’ve been seen what the other is working with at one point or another but the fact that she is unaware that she herself is intersex and has a skewed sort of idea about genitals and peoples bodies Richie genuinely does not think about it all too much. Eddie assumes that she knows, especially as they get older and casually refers to being trans (in my mind probably during the entire “Edwina” disguise thing. I imagine Eddie wearing the dress came down to the clothing size and some off hand comment about him “having experience”, which is total shit Bc even before he transitioned Eddie never presented that way). That’s probably around the point that things start to click in Richies head about Eddies identity and she starts comparing and contrasting Eddie to other ppl and such.

[saturno-sol]

The Brainrot has gotten to me

WELL HERE YOU GO FOLKS (almost) ALL MY NOTES ON WYRMTHREAD (Chantilly/Quezal) both in Canon and in a Happier AU because yes Most put under a readmore because its over 1K long and the very end has some suggestive things because I’m allowed to think like that too so just as a heads up

Anyways here

Canon Codex

Do not establish a relationship outside of a blooming interest in each other that gets nipped in the bud due to...yeah cries 

So let us not delve too deeply into Canon rn, and sadly since the plot absolutely needs Chantilly gone to progress we turn to HAPPIER AUS!!!!! :DDDDD because I drove myself deep into brainrot and aoughhhhghhhghhhhghh

Songs I associate with canon because music is good- 

I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO DANCE by Tyler the Creator

Mr Loverman by Ricky Montgomery

Rest Easy, I’ll See You Again by Cuco (the title is a LIE) 

Pain by Pinkpantheress

La Gata Bajo la Lluvia by Rocío Dúrcal

The Night We Met by Lord Huron (thank you Jaxx) 

Noche No Te Vayas by Los Tres Caballeros 

Better Timeline AU!!!! 

Placeholder name but honestly it might stick because I’m too lazy to think up of a better one hghfdnkj, am open to suggestions tho

Basic Premise of this AU: Through some magic fuckery or whatever, Chantilly is allowed out of the Troupe and decides to tag along with our funky wyrm gal because nowhere else to go/hrnng big lady pretty. They actually do start going out and it turns out hey! They like each other, like a lot. 

They like each other so much that they get married and bam, WyrmThread real 

This is great because not only is my otp now canon and alive, Fuego (and later on Lune when Fuego adoptskidnaps them into the family) now has both parents! And they love their kids sm like damn do not get in between them else you want to get yeeted to Unalive World. 

In this one, the motivations for [REDACTED] have now morphed into somewhat the same way in terms of being dealt with but now we got the lacey boy to help Quezal do [SPOILERS], fight [SPOILERS] and help complete [SPOILERS] and help establish her empire. (I’m sorry but I am not revealing any important Codex spoilers yet)

“Will you be the Malfina to my Connecticut Clark?” 

Girlboss and Malewife, except they’re both still murderous and would happily see you to your grave if you intervene with any of their plans. I’ve given Chantilly throwing knives :) because he deserves to be dangerous. 

He deserves to look cool!! With knives!!! Fighting alongside his wifey!! 

Of course NKG fucks off when Chantilly leaves the Troupe but I love to think of him being akin to a disapproving in-law (“Really Chantilly?? You run off and marry some wyrm that didn’t even have a kingdom to begin with? Have the standards of the Nightmare Vessels deteriorated as time went on?”) 

Chantilly is somewhat concerned that Fuego is much more, for lack of a better word, feral than a regular Grimmchild would be but he doesn’t regret the decision to have him. He loves his bitey son even if he scratches through fabrics like water. 

And Quezal enjoys having another person to coil around and snarl at anyone that gets too close to them. It does take a while until they’re like velcro due to her issues with touch being equated to violence (Thanks dad /s) but once she overcomes that fight or flight response she absolutely does not let go of him. 

Burrowing into a dark place and nuzzling until he smells like her makes Wyrm brain go brr. And since he isn’t a wyrm there’s no instinct yelling at her to maim him if there’s no babies to take care of/mating season passed, he in her eyes is harmless. Even if they both know different, at least in her brain he is just a lil guy, no threat to her. 

Chantilly loves all the attention he’s getting from her, absolutely will allow her to carry him off and coil up against him as long as he can work on sewing while she broods over him. 

He’s naturally warm and for a wyrm that needs outside heat to regulate her inner temp like a snake he’s like a hot water bottle, world cold husband warm. 

Happby family can these Queers be HAPPY PLEASE 

Love languages!!! 

Quezal once she gets comfortable with physical stuff likes to nuzzle and bite :) but not to draw any hemo or cause harm, just to hold in mouth. She also likes to do acts of service, making sure that her husband is wont for nothing and doing little things like sharpening his knives for him. 

Chantilly loves to gift-give! Usually things he made by hand. 

“Quezal pls let me make you pretty dresses and outfits please you would so look good in teal” 

He likes kissing a lot, smoochies for wife and cuddling is great for him too, as long as he can sleep with his chest unobstructed he’s good 

They both love showing each other off

“Look at my partner they’re the fucking best ever, none of you bitches can compare to them.” 

When the empire is finally formed and Quezal takes her place as Empress she offers the title of Emperor to Chantilly 

He declines, Royal titles are just not his thing and he feels uncomfortable with them, so instead he goes by the title of “Lord”

His duties consist of assisting with any paperwork Quezal doesn’t want to deal with and being eye candy (/j but also not really he loves being shown off esp in new outfits) 

He also deals with nobles that aren’t too pushy, the ones that do are quickly steered towards Quezal. And usually after a meeting with her they learn better than to try to smart mouth either of them. 

Family Notes!

Chantilly’s the one to go to if you need advice and soothing comfort

Quezal’s the one to go to if you need someone beat the fuck up and also advice but in the no nonsense way. 

She also comforts but it's not in the way that Chantilly will delicately soothe the pains away, she tells you how it is but will hug you and tuck you into bed if wanted. 

On the other hand, Chantilly is the one Fuego and Lune go to if they want to do something crazy or stupid and know that mom won’t say yes. 

He dresses them up in poofy outfits (see the clown costume I’ve thrown on Fuego as an example) and shows them off to Quezal 

“Look my dear! Aren’t they the sweetest things you have seen!” 

It is very funny 

SONGS I ASSOCIATE WITH THIS AU

Meet Me At Our Spot by WILLOW

First Love/ Late Spring by Mitski

I Hear A Symphony by Cody Fry

She’s My Collar by the Gorillaz

My Kind of Woman by Mac DeMarco

New Light by John Mayer

Vivir by Jardin

coffee by Miguel

Never Getting Rid of Me from the Waitress Musical

WARNING WARNING

Ok next few am going to be a bit suggestive so stop here if you’re not into that but

I’m debating on if they’d have more children than Fuego and Lune and if so, how many HDJFJKSJ (thinking of twins named Arco and Iris because Arcoiris means Rainbow and I kind of like that and I’m also a sucker for twins) 

Listen, they’re both switches but most if not all the time Quezal’s the one topping. The man is submissive and breedable what do you expect HDJFJS

s i z e  D i f f e r e n c e 

Chantilly is a sensual romantic and loves a lot of buildup while Quezal just wants to get on with the good stuff, they make it work with communication and understanding each other :) 

They’re both capable of carrying so if they did have more kids I’d imagine they’d take turns on who’s turn it is to be eggy. (And I have so many thoughts about how they’d treat each other while pregnant but HHHHFJFJFHHHF too embarrassed rn waagaghgg) 

These two love each other very much and I love them. 

[teruthecreator]

okay everyone shut up leave me alone Jack Frost (1979) maplekeene au under the readmore i have to get it out of my head or else i won’t be able to sleep

argo is jack frost bc blue skin and desire to be seen/appreciated by others. they call him “jack frost” bc of the original bearer of the title--jackal--who they nicknamed jack frost

jackal retired from the position of going down to the human world and making sure winter happens, and then argo picks up the position 

father winter is hieronymous bc it’s a bigass dude with a beard like. c’mon. EITHER THAT or its mother winter so it could be shebrie. i haven’t thought deeply about this part 

snip is hieronmyous and holly is firbolg. they both know far too well about argo’s obsession w the human world and its inhabitants 

elisa is fitzroy but his motivations and personality are completely different (since elisa suffers from Female Rankin/Bass Love Interest Disease). 

he isn’t outwardly “in love” with winter and jack frost more than he just enjoys the season because of the freedom it allows. it is also the season his mother enjoyed the most (in past tense bc in this one...she dies! for good reason i’ll explain). he does kinda “talk” to jack frost a lot, since he hasn’t got many friends and he quite enjoys walking around the woods alone. this is how argo comes to know and become slightly enamored with his mortal lad (i say mortal bc i’m still working w the fantasy races--aka a good excuse for argo to keep his blue skin) 

kubla kraus is the commodore. big asshole man with a beard. controls everything by being a lying, cheating, evil bastard. has no friends. yeah that’s him alright

sir ravenal rightfellow is buckminster!! and his importance to the plot is Completely Different from the movie. i will explain now: 

okay so PLOT is that argo is jack frost, the winter spirit who comes to nua (aka january junction) to make sure winter runs smoothly. he is fairly new at this job (the original jack frost being jackal, who has now retired in the land of the winter where all the winter spirits live. he’s sorta argo’s mentor in jack frosting and warns argo not to get too attached to the mortals, but argo’s heart is simply too kind for that to not happen. 

argo develops a very deep love for mortals and their mortal ways, but is saddened by the fact that he cannot participate in their fun. winter and winter again, he returns to this poor village and gives them the means of living and joy, but he can’t even reveal himself to them!!! because he’s a winter spirit and mortals cannot see winter spirits. so it leaves argo feeling sorta dejected, even as he continues to watch the mortals he’s grown so fond of

fitzroy, on the other hand, is a native to this village. imma just call it January Junction bc i like that name a lot. he grew up here with his mother and father (though his father very quickly excused himself from the picture because i hate stable fathers <3). fitzroy and his mother are as poor as anyone else in the village--which is to say Very Very Poor since kubla commodore owns all the money and supplies in january junction. then, when fitzroy is about 13 or so, his mother suddenly falls ill and dies. before she passes away, she tells fitzroy that there’s documents in the kingdom about a week’s travel (by horse) away that he’ll “need when he’s older”. 

for a very long time, fitzroy doesn’t know what that means

in any case, he ends up being taken in by gordie and his husband to grow up with rainer, his childhood friend. though he eventually becomes acquainted with other kids around january junction that he hadn’t really socialized with before (buckminster and leon, rolandus, zana, rhodes), he finds himself more inclined to solitude. 

especially during the winter, the season when his mother passed away

despite the sadness of it all, fitzroy doesn’t find himself so glum when he’s out amongst the woods. winter is just so...beautiful. almost ethereal. he’s known about the myth of “Jack Frost” for years, so he begins just...talking to him. well, “talking”, since jack frost isn’t Real. 

once argo becomes jack frost (right around when the two are like. idk 18), though, he becomes the recipient of these rants. 

that’s when argo’s infatuation with mortals becomes a very deep desire. not bc he’s like In Love w fitzroy or anything (not yet), but because he feels like he really has a friend in fitzroy!!! someone is out there who actually cares about him!!! and talks to him about things!!! even if argo has no way of responding

so one year (aka the year the movie takes place) argo is especially despondent about this, when kubla commodore nearly kills fitzroy in his ignorance 

if you’ve never seen the movie, kubla kraus rides a mechanical horse onto a frozen lake and nearly kills elisa by making the ice crack and send her careening towards a waterfall. assume that happens here 

argo saves fitzroy by freezing over the waterfall and fitzroy exclaims “oh, jack frost, where would i be without you?” sorta just like an exclamation. but argo takes this to heart. where Would fitzroy be without him?? he’s been around this guy for so many years!!! hearing him vent about not being able to afford knight school, losing his own dream while buckminster and rolandus run off to live it for him. offering him advice (that fitzroy cannot hear) when fitzroy expresses how much he Hates doing manual labor for no pay. even being a (frozen) “shoulder” to cry on when the grief becomes too much! 

and where would Argo be without fitzroy??? the man has practically become the sole reason argo gets excited for winter anymore, and he worries about the half-elf the whole year after. 

so argo makes a decision that day, heads back up to the winter realm in the clouds, and begs father winter to let him become mortal 

father winter is, of course, Not willing to let argo do that because he knows how mortals can be. argo argues that it isn’t fair that he has to spend the rest of his eternity watching these mortals live, get older, fall in love, and appreciate his work--all while he just watches silently, unloved, in the background

father winter is moved by this and grants argo mortality for One Winter under this condition: if argo cannot find One literal reason to remain mortal, then he shall return to his spirit form. 

(this is a slight divergence to the original condition of “you must obtain a house, a horse, a bag of gold, and a wife” bc i’m modernizing it slightly okay it’s not just abt marriage now) 

argo is confused by the wording, so father winter goes on to give him examples: finding a job that is meaningful, finding a person who loves him, etc. and then argo is off 

before he leaves, he says goodbye to higglemas (also known as “snip” since he makes the snowflakes) and the firbolg. snips gives him his lucky pair of scissors that have the word “snip” etched into the side of them. yes this will be important 

argo goes back down to earth, becomes a mortal, and crash lands in the woods where fitzroy is

fitzroy is slightly baffled to see just a random stranger in the middle of the woods, but the dude seems lost and Very confused so fitzroy offers to warm him up and help him out back in january junction. fitzroy lives in a sorta commune situation with leon, rainer and zana (they’re engaged), rhodes, and rolandus and buckminster (whenever they come home). the group welcomes argo in warmly and argo finds himself feeling right at home with this crowd of early-to-mid-twenty-year-olds 

argo almost introduces himself as jack frost--as he is known by myth--but catches himself before he can reveal that. he calls himself “argo snip” (bc of the scissors and the fact that his name is actually argo), a tailor in need of business. rainer--a seamstress herself--is more than happy to have someone else in the town to work on fabrics with, and the shop that rainer runs in the house expands to allow argo’s tailoring business

while this is happening, father winter tells higgs and firbolg that they have to go down there and make sure argo doesn’t die. so now they’re human and they end up finding argo at the house. higglemas introduces himself as higglemas wiggenstaff, and the firbolg just doesn’t say anything and lets argo come up with the name “bud holly”. they are now Also tailors, which is good bc argo cannot sew. 

for the few months of winter, argo enjoys life in january junction quite a bit. though things are kinda bleak, since kubla commodore owns all the gold, the town keeps itself in high spirits during the winter. argo and fitzroy Especially end up bonding during this time, and fitzroy’s solitary walks through the woods soon find themselves one additional member. 

this is about the time where argo realizes “ah fuck, i think i’m in love with this fool”, which is when he realizes the One Meaningful Thing he’s meant to live on the mortal world for: fitzroy

fitzroy, meanwhile, also finds strange feelings developing for the eccentric genasi. but he’s a lot more emotionally constipated, so he won’t say much about it yet. 

it’s a few days before christmas and argo and fitzroy are talking alone--the house empty for some reason (a rarity but a blessing). fitzroy is embroidering something that argo’s recently sewn as they talk, and he accidentally pricks himself with the needle. argo immediately reaches out and cradles his hand, which is when fitzroy notices for the very first time just how Cold argo is. argo laughs it off and claims that it’s bc he’s “cold-blooded” but fitzroy just sorta laughs and goes “i never said i minded...” 

for some reason, this causes argo to look up at fitzroy, and the two realize how close they’ve gotten since argo grabbed fitzroy’s hand. the two are flushed, nervous, but argo dares to move forward to finally capture those lips in a--

BANG! the door flies open as a shorter man, clad in gold armor, stands in the doorway. fitzroy jumps up--first startled, then elated--as he realizes Sir Buckminster Eden has finally returned home!!! 

argo reads this reaction the Entirely Wrong Way and is instantly jealous of buckminster. poor, poor idiot doesn’t realize buckminster and rolandus have been doing circles around each other since they were teenagers...

then it’s christmas!!! everyone’s too poor for gifts so they hand out invisible ones (like the movie), but buckminster has an Actual gift for fitzroy (which argo, again, takes the completely Wrong Way). the gift is a sealed parcel from the royal parliament, instructing that fitzroy Cannot open it until he is 24 years of age. fitzroy’s birthday just so happens to be the day after christmas, and somebody is Very Aware of this fact...

...that person? oh, it’s kubla commodore, of course! who kidnaps fitzroy later on that day when his guard is down. kubla commodore throws fitzroy in a dungeon and keeps the parcel amongst his many piles of gold, determined to keep its contents away from the one intended to see them

argo finds out about the kidnapping and the whole group is sprung into action to save fitzroy. but, since argo has none of his winter magic, he isn’t really able to be the help he wants to be. buckminster--having knight training--is able to scale the mountain quicker than argo, fight off the k-nights, and break fitzroy out of the dungeon. 

argo doesn’t know this because he attempts to scale the mountain from the other side with higgs and firbolg, where he is captured by the remaining k-nights. now They’re locked in the dungeon as kubla commodore vows to send a thousand k-nights down to january junction to “wipe out the insubordinates” 

argo has no way of breaking out of the dungeon because he has no magic. so, in a moment of desperation, he calls back to father winter to turn him back into a winter spirit. he returns to his jack frost form--which is incorporeal--and begins to freeze over kubla commodore’s castle (try saying that five times fast)

with argo back as a spirit, higgs and firby aren’t needed as mortals, so they return to the land of winter to do their winter work

meanwhile, in january junction, fitzroy is Freaking Out that they can’t find argo in this freak blizzard. he tries venturing out into the tundra himself, but buckminster and the gang holds him back, telling the half-elf that they’ll look for argo when the storm clears 

oops, the storm doesn’t clear! because argo keeps up the insane blizzard for the duration of winter (though he focuses a majority of the intense weather on the castle to seal kubla commodore inside). eventually, though, father winter notifies argo that spring is soon approaching. argo is like “why” and father winter explains: “okay so basically a tiny useless groundhog comes out of his hole every year and if he sees his shadow then winter dies immediately” 

who’s the groundhog? why, it’s Gotta-Go Gary!! who argo scares the living shit out of to make 6 more weeks of winter happen

after the extended 6 weeks are up, father winter tells argo that winter will end at noon on that final day. argo is like “if winter ends, then kubla commodore is going to Kill Everyone” and he bargains with father winter to be mortal once more (since he Still has till the end of winter to find his One Meaningful Thing) to set things right. 

he goes back down, defeats kubla commodore (too much to explain, shenanigans is how i can describe it best), and realizes he has everything he could possibly ever Need now to offer fitzroy in exchange for his hand in marriage

you see, argo learned during his time as a mortal that marriages have dowries? and now he suddenly has a castle, a horse, and all the town’s gold in his possession so that seems dowry enough. also he thinks marriage is the only option to prove to father winter that Love is a meaningful thing enough to be mortal for 

however, when he finally gets to january junction, he sees...a wedding?? who’s getting married?? and then he sees buckminster in his suit of armor, looking rather pleased with himself, and argo immediately assumes that buck and fitz are getting hitched 

he storms over there and rants at buck about how He’s the one in love with fitzroy and how much He sacrificed to ensure fitzroy’s safety and happiness. and buckminster is like “woah, woah, woah, friend!!! one, uhhhh where the Fuck have you been??? two, rainer and zana are getting married dawg. fitzroy is right over there, helping rainer with her dress” 

just as argo spots fitzroy, fitzroy spots argo. and Boy does fitzroy look Pissed. he storms over to argo, ready to chew him out, when suddenly the church clock begins to sound and argo looks panicked. he grabs fitzroy by the shoulders and is like: “i don’t have time to explain much but i have a house a horse and so much gold to offer you if you agree to marry me right now”

fitzroy is like “???? hello??? what??? first off, where the HELL have you been. two, marriage??? m-moving a little fast there huh--” and argo is like. freaking out bc he knows by the final sound of the bell he will be a spirit forever and so he just very quickly explains how He’s jack frost and he trapped kubla commodore in ice for the whole winter so he wouldn’t come down here and kill him and everyone else and if he doesn’t prove to father winter that his love for fitzroy is enough to want to remain mortal then fitzroy will never see him again. and fitzroy is like. flustered honestly but also rlly panicked bc like. he’s 24!!! he doesn’t wanna get married bro!!!! 

basically he’s like “argo i--i Do love you, but. marriage? it doesn’t have to be that Now like--we have time!!” and argo is just like. split-second decision says “kiss me” and fitzroy doesn’t even hesitate in doing so because Dang he’s been thinking about that for A While 

and as the final gong sounds and argo’s form begins to shift, argo breathes a final winter’s breath into fitzroy. 

then something...changes. argo realizes, as the bell begins to fade, that he hasn’t phased through fitzroy’s body. and as fitzroy feels this cold air pass through him, he suddenly finds himself...unable to feel the chilly hands cupping his face. when they part, argo realizes what has happened. 

fitzroy doesn’t look Too much different, but he’s definitely changed. his skin glows only barely, his eyes have a ring of winter-blue around the iris, and there’s a streak of snow-white in his hair. his outfit has also become a glittery, royal-looking affair--COMPLETELY different than the formal peasant clothes he was in seconds before 

meanwhile, argo has returned to his jack frost attire and look, but he can still be seen!!! by everyone around him!!! and by fitzroy!!! 

turns out, father winter saw that argo would be unhappy as either human (with friends and his love, but none of his friends or the satisfaction of giving people winter joy) or spirit (with his job and spirit friends, but without his mortal friends and love) and basically turned him into a demigod. demispirit? half-and-half. and, in order to guarantee fitzroy would be able to travel between the places, he Also made fitzroy into a partial winter spirit. 

all of their friends are like “oh shit did you two kiss??? also why do you both look so fruity” and then the wedding happens. they hold the reception in kubla commodore’s castle, where fitzroy is finally able to read the parcel!!!! 

what does the parcel say?? well, turns out fitzroy’s mother was a descendant of a line of royals. and, though she was not signficant enough to rule an entire kingdom, her father had granted her ownership of the village she chose to raise her son in. the kubla was only supposed to be a temporary position, until fitzroy’s mother was settled down enough. but kubla commodore liked his wealth too much!! so he poisoned fitzroy’s mother and made sure to keep fitzroy Extra poor so he’d never have the ability to find the proof of inheritance himself. when buckminster became a knight, he swore to fitzroy that he’d find these documents fitzroy’s mother mentioned on her deathbed. 

okay so ending shit. fitzroy gives ownership of the village back to the people. wealth is dispersed, things are fixed, everyone is happy. buckminster and rolandus get together, rainer and zana take over the castle and turn it into a BIG ol spot where those without a home can have lodging, and everyone is happy. fitzroy is Finally able to travel and see the things he’s never gotten to see, while also achieving some of the “bringing people happiness and safety” thing that came w his desire of being a knight by helping argo spread winter throughout the world. the two of them sorta go back-and-forth between their cozy little cottage in january junction, going across the globe to maintain the cold, and going up to the winter realm to see higglemas and firby and father winter. 

they’re in love, everyone is happy, rankin/bass Bite My Ass 

just kidding i love you and your silly little movies 

[scripttorture]

Are there usually pretty clear lines of separation between instances of torture, negligence, and unethical experimentation? Or do the three tend to cross over pretty often because of general lack of respect for prisoners in those types of situations? (Sorry if this sent twice, Tumblr is being dumb)

There isn’t always a clear separation in reality. The lines can be pretty blurred. (And no worries about multiple copies this place is a hellsite I understand.)

 I make a strict distinction because I feel like that can be helpful to writers who might be… approaching a common sci fi scenario with no knowledge of how medical experimentation works.

 The reason I make that distinction is because I think that otherwise it’s really really easy to fall into the trap of portraying torture as ‘smart’ or ‘scientific’. Which… it isn’t. It can’t be.

 Here’s the thing: if any kind of torture or neglect is going on then it is a variable. And anything truly scientific needs to account for variables. The big question here from my perspective isn’t so much ‘could this cross section of abuse happen’ it’s ‘could the scientists get results from it’.

 If you want to write smart scientists who are actually making some kind of progress with their discoveries then torture isn’t usually a good fit.

 The exception would be when the experiment itself is torture, something like ‘how long does it take the average person to die if we take out their intestines?’ or ‘what happens to the body when a person is starved?’

 I’m going to throw out a couple of examples to show you what I mean writing wise and then talk about how these things happen in reality.

 Say you have your bad guys doing something suitably sci fi like trying to graft wings to some humans.

 In a truly scientific (but unethical) scenario there will be lots of groups of test subjects/prisoners all of whom will be submitted to a slightly different regime to see which gives the highest success rate. They might all be given different drugs after the grafting procedure, or the grafting procedure itself might be subtly different.

 But their cell conditions, food, and general environment would need to be kept constant. That’s done so that procedure itself is reproducible. So that the evil scientists can confidently say ‘this version of the procedure is the most successful one and therefore we should use it.’

 These test subjects could still be suffering a lot because the point here isn’t to reduce their suffering (hence unethical). The point is to make sure that they’re not suffering in a way which impacts the results.

 Now if there are torturers in the facility this careful controlling of factors goes out the window because torturers do not show self-restraint, patience or any real ability to follow instructions.

 The torturers might be going round beating up the prisoners or depriving them of food or interrupting their sleep (I’m just picking common tortures here). And any of those things would be expected to effect someone’s immune response and/or chances of dying. And the torturers (if they’re behaving like torturers) won’t keep records of this or do it in an even, consistent way.

 Which means all the results the scientists are gathering become… meaningless. Because now rather then the results showing the most successful version of the procedure they show… well probably something completely random.

 May be all the test subjects on site 3 died regardless of the procedure used (because there were torturers on that site but not the others). May be the only tests that were successful were the subjects at the last four cells of the corridor (because it was further for the torturers to walk before beating someone up).

 Note that the scientists in this do not know the reasons why these things happened and they might not have enough information to guess.

 The information gathered is flawed. And if using this procedure on a large scale is a later plot point… well it could still be possible with the second scenario but you’d expect a much higher failure rate.

 I’m a scientist. My day job is testing medicines. The history of medicine, and science generally, is full of abuse.

 But that abuse does not look like the cackling evil ‘scientist’ who has a grand total of one test subject and somehow gets consistent, reliable results.

 And when torture and/or neglect overlap with genuine attempts at experimentation in real life it gives results that can’t be taken at face value. They need to be analysed and tested further, sometimes for decades, in order to determine whether they’re genuine or not.

 Let’s take some examples that are more like real life.

 Imagine a scenario where scientists are testing a new vaccine* on prisoners. They are doing this in an unethical manner, by vaccinating the prisoners, waiting for a while and then deliberately infecting them with the disease. Unknown to the scientists the prisoners are routinely sleep deprived.

 Sleep deprivation depresses the immune response. Some of the prisoners develop the disease when vaccinated and die. Some of them don’t but they do get the disease when they’re deliberately infected, suggesting the vaccine doesn’t work. And some of them don’t develop the disease when deliberately infected.

 Now we know today that sleep deprivation reduces the immune response and there is evidence that it can make vaccines in particular less effective.

 So does this particular vaccine work or not? The true answer is that we can’t tell and more data is needed.

 But without the knowledge that at least some of these prisoners are sleep deprived the scientists can’t arrive that conclusion. They can’t really make any definite conclusion.

 As another example let’s look at the case of Elsie Lacks**.

 Elsie was a black child committed to a mental institute in 1950. She was deaf, epileptic and had developmental disabilities of some kind. She was experimented on without her consent during the period she was hospitalised and died at the age of 15.

 We have records of some of the things Elsie was forced to endure because samples sizes were such that some of the experiments must have involved every single epileptic child in the hospital.

 One of the recorded experiments was on brain imaging. It involved draining the fluid around the brain (a painful and dangerous procedure) in order to take pictures of it and identify the cause of epilepsy.

 Stress and trauma can effect the structure of the developing brain. There was no attempt to account for the fact that the overcrowded, dangerous conditions in the hospital could have effected the end results.

 There was also no attempt to account for the fact that these children were being used in other experiments. And that means that if this experiment did identify key brain differences there’d be no firm evidence that those differences were due to epilepsy rather then trauma or other experimental procedures.

 What I’m trying to highlight here is that abuse in an experimental scenario isn’t just unethical it gets in the way of drawing accurate conclusions.

 Torture does sometimes take place with a lot of pseudo-scientific trappings.

 Abuse in concentration camps around the world comes to mind because (with a few exceptions) this mostly seemed to involve individual doctors picking out people to abuse with no real regard to results. Things like attempts to change eye colour by putting chemicals in people’s eyes and sewing twins together appear to have been conducted with pseudo-scientific trappings, rather then as careful experiments.

 I say that these things weren’t experiments because there does not appear to have been any consistency, attempt to create a control group or sufficient sample sizes to draw conclusions.

 And yes, I realise just how fucked up all that sounds when we’re talking about people who were tortured to death. That’s part of my point.

 There’s a difference between a villain who is primarily focused on abusing others and a villain who doesn’t really care whether their victims suffer or not so long as they get data.

 Torture can take place with pseudo-scientific trappings and unethical experimentation can take place alongside torture and neglect.

 I make that strong distinction to encourage authors to think about what the most important part of their scenario is and tailor what they’re writing to reflect that. I want you to think about what’s going on in your story and what the consequences should be for the characters and the plot in general. Mostly I want writers to understand what ‘experiment’ means before throwing the word around and making torturers look smarter then they are.

 An experiment should be:

Reproducible

Conducted with control groups

Conducted with a big enough sample size

Well recorded

Involve only one small change to procedure at a time

Account for variables

Analysed

 So what’s the important part of your story? Is it that the victims suffer, or that the bad guys get some kind of knowledge? And if it’s the latter does the victims’ suffering have the potential to get in the way?

 I don’t really believe in hard writing rules. So long as a scenario isn’t actively supporting torture I try to take a ‘never say never’ attitude.

 The message here isn’t to never ever mix these things together: it’s to take the time to understand the separate components before you do that.

 And think about what any mixture you write might be implying.

 I hope that helps. :)

Available on Wordpress.

Disclaimer

*I chose this as an example because this sort of thing happened and because there were some massive risks involved with a lot of early vaccines. This does not mean they were worse then the diseases they protected people against when they worked. See hemorrhagic smallpox. Or don’t if you want to sleep tonight.

 **I come back to this one a lot because it absolutely infuriates me.

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Jailhouse Job

leverage 3.01

I love how they opened up s3 with all of their “codenames”/job titles

- - - - -

Hardison: Cameras are watching yesterday's footage. Locking down... which elevator?

[Elevator Shaft]

Parker: Huh? What? Oh, um, um, yes, I-I'm a go for elevator one.

[Courthouse Hallway]

Hardison: Were you asleep?

[Elevator Shaft]

Parker: It's very peaceful up here. Besides, I sleep better upside down.

(Parker is wearing her rigs, hanging upside down, elevator rises)

I adore her, okay + SHE SLEEPS BETTER UPSIDE DOWN ??? !!!

- - - - -

(Nate walks into the elevator with two men, one armed, the other the one whose gun Sophie stole. Parker jumps on the top of the elevator, opens it, and tasers both men before picking the lock on Nate’s cuffs)

Nate: You know, you could have just taken the keys off the guy's belt.

Parker: Eh, this is faster.

parker LOVES tasering people + it’s faster for her to pick a lock than to look for keys

- - - - -

(Hardison is walking along the sidewalk checking his phone, setting off car alarms)

Guard: What the hell?

(the guards at the door go to check, and Eliot disarms them, knocking one into traffic. Sophie pulls up in a car and just as Nate and Parker exit the building)

eliot’s F A C E when he accidentally makes the guy get hit by a car LMFAO

- - - - -

when it goes from “nate’s apartment” to “leverage hq”

- - - - -

Eliot: Spanish soap opera.

Hardison: Oh, yeah. Check it out, man. Look, it turns out Pepe's twin brother Peppi is actually Guadalupe's baby's daddy.

Eliot: Seriously?

headcanon: hardison and eliot were watching it earlier and eliot says “really” because god spanish soap operas are so dramatic

- - - - -

(Parker comes in with a bag over her shoulder)

Eliot: He doesn’t want to do it.

Parker: Oh, but I love jumping on elevators.

Hardison: I know.

Parker: This is my special elevator rig he got me for Christmas

we LOVE to see that nate (and sophie ?) get their children presents for christmas

- - - - -

Eliot: All right, look, Nate, you took the fall for us, so...

Hardison: After you lied to us. He's a liar.

Eliot: You took the fall for us. You went to jail so we wouldn't have to. We get that, so we're square. But now you got to let us get you out of prison.

Parker: But if we're gonna do that...

Hardison: And not all of us are convinced that we should.

Parker: Then we have to hit you at your next hearing. That prison's escape-proof.

Nate: Guys, no.

hardison is salty but eliot forgives him for the most part

+

I love it when the ot3 sits together

(also I take note when they’re in the same frame in these posts in case I (or anyone else) wants to reference when they are together for gif and or fanvid purposes)

- - - - -

Nate: I committed a crime, I got caught, and now I am gonna serve my time.

Sophie: Nate, what kind of world would it be if everybody that committed a silly little crime went to prison, huh? Complete madness. (Parker scoffs, Hardison makes an incredulous gesture with his hands)

- - - - -

Hardison: Okay, you know... You know what? Fine, Nate.

[Leverage HQ]

Hardison: We're still out here. We're doing the job. We help people nobody else helps. That's important. You want to stay around and miss out just because you got to figure out your guilty conscience, that's your loss.

Nate: Yeah, Hardison, I wa...

(Hardison severs the connection)

- - - - -

Worth: I am not a warden. I am CEO of National Prison Properties. I built this company, five prisons, from the ground up.

(The Italian laughs and lights a lighter)

Italian: Impressive. (lights a cigarette) You know what they say... That Rome was not built in a single day. But it burned in one. (blows out the lighter)

BADASS

- - - - -

(Billy pushes a cart of books through the room)

Billy (to Nate): Hey.

Nate: Hey.

Billy: Seamus Heaney. That Irish guy you asked for. (hands him a book)

Nate: Oh, excellent. Wow, thanks... Billy, right?

Billy: Uh, yeah.

Nate: Well, thank you. This could not have been easy to find.

Billy: Well, you seemed pretty down. And we got to stand up for each other, right?

Nate: Yeah. You're all right, Billy.

Billy: Yeah. Wish the judge thought so. (pushes cart away)

Nate: Yeah, I appreciate it

- - - - -

(Nate watches as Billy leaves the room, followed by some tough looking inmates)

Nate: I think something's happening.

Bellows: Thanks for your input. You can move on now.

(Nate follows them out of the common area)

prisons are the fucking worst but PRIVATE PRISONS are double that and john rogers agrees and that’s yet another reason why I love him

- - - - -

hardison tried taking up making a model helicopter in his spare time. cute

+ hardison likes to use the word hinky

- - - - -

Nate (puts hand on Billy’s shoulder): I'm sorry.

Billy: For what?

(Nate stabs Billy in the side)

Billy: Oh, sh...

(Billy falls to the floor, holding his side)

Nate: Oh. Uh, Hardison, why don't you gather the team and get me background checks on the... on the warden?

Billy: You stabbed me!

Nate: Oh, come on, just... just a little. It's... it's fine

this is the same as the “lightly stabbed” meme

- - - - -

Worth: The US has the fastest growing prison population in the world. Well, it's like the real-estate boom.

(Hardison plugs a flash drive into Worth’s computer)

Worth: Except, of course, the problem with real estate... You eventually run out of land. You never run out of people to put in prison.

Hardison: Hmm. We haven't had much success with private prisons concept in England. Our investment firm has large real-estate holdings for construction of facilities.

Worth: You see, any yahoo can lay some concrete and throw up some razor wire. The profit comes in proper management.

(Hardison looks at his phone, which is accessing Worth’s computer)

Worth: For example, the big money for us is in prison labor.

Hardison: Sorry?

Worth: Goods and services made by prisoners in America. $2 billion a year. One out of every five office chairs and desks "Made in America", made by convicts. And those jobs are not going to the Chinese. Bottom's up

john rogers was calling this bullshit out in like 2010 and still NOBODY LISTENS

- - - - -

(two guards are standing outside the room Billy and Nate are in)

Billy: Man, is this really the best plan?

Nate: Listen, the infirmary's under lockdown. There's cameras on both sides of the door, extra guards because of the pharmaceuticals. It's the safest place in the prison, really

- - - - -

Eliot (to guard): Abernathy, MD.

eliot still uses this alias that he picked up for The Rashomon Job

- - - - -

Eliot: We can just... well, you know what? It's fine. Just right in here, sir. And please have a seat.

(Nate sits in the chair and Eliot lays it back)

Eliot: It's just in case the guards come in. (buckles restraints on Nate’s wrists) Restraints. Here's an infirmary manual. (turns the light on Nate’s face and picks up a drill)

Nate: That's, uh, for the... for the guards, right?

Eliot: You know what I usually do, Nate, to people that run a con on their own team? Almost get people killed 'cause they're out of control?

Nate: Are we okay, Eliot?

(Eliot puts down the drill and plugs in a flash drive, typing on the keyboard. Images come up on the monitor)

eliot is mostly over it but would he ever give up a chance to fuck with him? nope.

- - - - -

[Judge’s Office]

Sophie: Key card and checkbook.

Parker: Keys and appointment book. Ooh, and this? (holds up keys) Safe deposit box key.

Sophie: Ooh, I love a secret.

(Sophie sits down at desk while Parker gets started on the safe)

COMPETENT WOMEN

- - - - -

Hardison: Yeah. See, Rockford can't drop below 70% occupancy. If they do, they lose their state funding. No state money, they close. And they came very close two years ago.

[Nate’s Cell]

Nate: Hmm. So, private prisons are like the hotel business. They live and die on occupancy, head count. Now, Worth wasn't gonna lose $100 million in profit just 'cause he didn't have enough hard-cases to fill the prison, so he puts a few judges on the arm to send him non-violent offenders, easy prisoners to supervise.

[Leverage HQ]

Parker: Yeah, but why these people?

Eliot: Because they're citizens. 'Cause they're honest, middle-class citizens. These are the people, they don't want to cause any trouble. They can't afford a lawyer, so if some judge sends them away, well, yes, sir. They were taught to trust the courts. They believe in the system

- - - - -

[Leverage HQ]

(Parker wearing a robe standing in front of a green screen, trying to pose. At one point she does a duck face.)

Sophie: You remember what I showed you. Just try some different-different shapes and-and-and that pout that we talked about. Ohh, no, not that one. (to Hardison) I didn't show her that.

Sophie: Kind of... just, you know, just relax. Try one up, one down. Maybe... So...

(Parker continues to pose)

Sophie: Ooh, yeah. Shoot that.

(Hardison snaps photos)

Sophie: Ooh, I like that. That's gonna work.

(Sophie uses the remote to place Parker into a photo of Worth)

Sophie: Okay. Yes.

Hardison: Looks good.

Sophie: I can work with that.

(Parker drops her clothes to the floor)

Hardison: Whoa. Oh! Whoa.

Sophie: Parker!

Hardison: Why am I looking away

this scene is iconic lmfao

also hardison you’re not looking because you’re a goddamn GENTLEMAN and we love you for it

+ she takes off all her clothes and puts on a baret LMFAO

- - - - -

parker and hardison smiling at each other as they map out the prison

+

THEY CLASP HANDS HAPPILY

- - - - -

Parker: Who's Sophie?

Hardison: You remember, we're not supposed to use her real name with, uh...

Parker: Right, Nate hasn't earned it yet. Forgot. Sophie. Sophie. So-phie. So-o-o-phie. Sophie. S-s-s-sophie. Sophie

we love parker trying to act cool and normal and fumble about it. she’s baby

- - - - -

Eliot: All right, we cut that wire.

Hardison: No. No, look, once a lockdown is called, all these sensors go hot and those door bolts drop into place.

Parker: I got it! The furnace room. There's no sensors because it's too hot. They crawl straight down along the heating pipes until they reach the sewage system. Ha ha!

[Prison Common Area]

Nate: Now, Parker, it's a 150 degrees in there.

[Leverage HQ]

Parker: The average human can withstand that for 27 seconds.

(Hardison and Eliot look away)

Parker: What? Come on

the ot3 is trying your honor

also parker is adorable playing with the model helicopter remote while laying down on the table

- - - - -

Worth: Then fire them. What's the use of being non-union if I can't fire people?

GROSS

- - - - -

Nate: Parker, please tell me you're at Hardison's new van.

[Exterior Prison]

Parker: Yeah, it's really nice.

[Prison Common Area]

Nate: Did you bring it?

[Exterior Prison]

Parker: Wait, are we doing that now?

[Prison Common Area]

Nate: Yeah, we're gonna breaking out right now.

[Exterior Prison]

Parker: Yes! (gets into van)

SHES SO EXCITED + she likes the new van!!!

- - - - -

Nate: A little sloppy.

Eliot: New glasses. (takes them off and looks at them)

OKAY SO DOES HE NEED GLASSES OR NOT ???

also he did the lil flip thing with the security guard nightstick

- - - - -

Computer: Lockdown.

Nate: Okay. (pushes door open and holds up a folded piece of paper) Newspaper folded eight times can support a ton of weight. Come on.

(they head down the hall)

- - - - -

Sophie: Motion sensor. Nate.

Nate: Steam's filling up now.

[Prison Kitchen]

(Nate walks slowly toward exit)

Nate: Motion sensor beat.

[Freezer]

(Nate enters and grabs a plastic bag, draping it around him)

[Leverage HQ]

Sophie: Breathe.

[Prison Mechanical Room]

(Nate pushes out a grate and enters the room, the bag covered in ice)

Nate: And heat sensor cleared. Last stop.

(throws off bag and exits the room)

- - - - -

parker was having so much fun with the model helicopter I love it

- - - - -

Hardison: You, yeah. Ha. See, I like this. I like when we pretend to kiss.

Parker: "Pretend"?

Hardison: Heeeey

- - - - -

Nate: What about my team?

Italian: They lead dangerous lives. Thieves die all the time.

Nate (steps close to her): Now that you should not have said.

Italian: I don't know. You seem highly motivated. (walks away)

- - - - -

Sophie: Damien Moreau? Are you out of your mind? Nobody touches Moreau!

Hardison: Nate, Moreau finances the Sicilians, the Russian mafia, the Colombian cartels.

Eliot: Yeah, he moves money for the North Koreans, stolen artifacts for Iraq, nuclear materials for Iran.

Hardison: Moreau is The Big Bad. He is the central bank for international crime.

Parker: N-nate, these files are CIA, FBI, Mossad, Japanese Security

poor eliot this season is gonna be Rough™ for him :(

- - - - -

Sophie: She's blackmailing us?

Nate: She's... she's... she's sort of... Yeah. Yeah.

Parker: Sucks to be on the wrong side of that, finally.

- - - - -

Eliot: We can't go straight at a guy like Moreau. They'll vaporize us.

ELIOT was the one that finally gave in and gave up some information on how to go at this. eliot. because he knows moreau. he knows how that man works. so he knows he has to be the one to start the conversation, even though he hates it with every fiber of his being.

[embry-tea]

Word Generator with Byakuya Togami, Nagito Komaeda, Gundham Tanaka, Kokichi Ouma, Beta Junko Enoshima, and Beta Ibuki Mioda!!!

Cursing!!!

вуαкυуα Тσgαмι 💵

"Piano"

~+^+~

Byakuya was a very intelligent man. He had to be, if he wasn't, he'd disappoint everyone. He knew how to do many things that would never be useful for him, such as sewing or how to make ceramic dishes. He also was well versed in planning instruments. Violin, bass, harp - he knew how to play each one. While he wasn't a big fan of piano, he still knew how to play it. Maybe it would come in handy one day....

"Are you alright? You seem troubles," Togami questioned his partner as they walked into the library. It wasn't very often they looked visible sad, so naturally Byakuya was concerned.

"I need to practice this song for my next performance, which isn't a problem in itself, I already know the lyrics, pace - I know how to sing the song. Issue is, to perfect the song, I'd have to sing while the main instrument plays. But the only person I know that plays piano is Kaede Akamatsu, and she broke her arm," they ranted while slightly pacing back and forth. Byakuya thought carefully about what they said. He knew how to play piano, but he didn't enjoy playing the instrument. However, his lover someone had the ability to make normal "commoner" activities fun. He made a decision.

"I know how to play the piano, I could help you." The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them. Their eyes lit up and they marveled at him. "Really? Wow, you surprise me everyday!" they exclaimed, before pulling Togami into a hug. "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!!!"

"Anything for you, love."

~+Є^И^∂+~

Иαgιтσ Кσмαє∂α 🍀 (They're seniors in college in the story.)

"Memory"

~+^+~

Nagito had the habit to suddenly remember things at the most random points in time. Example, a few months back, he suddenly remembered a time his mother bought him a really ugly stuffed dog. Despite it's ugliness, Nagito loved it. It was a gift from his mother and she knew it was ugly. She knew Nagito would like because it was an ugly toy. Nagito could never control when he suddenly had random memories of the past, but maybe his luck would make it come right on time....

Nagito was very nervous. Today had gone well so far, his luck hadn't interfered yet but that doesn't it won't interfere at all. Today was a special day. It was his and his lover's anniversary; 4 years strong. Nagito had a very special surprise planned today: he was gonna propose. Right now, as the fireworks the loved

rs were watching were going off. Nagito sucked in a breath before starting off his miniature speech.

"Hope? I've been meaning to tell you something," Nagito started as they looked at him, quirking an eyebrow to signify they were listening. He continued, "We've been together for over four years now and, I don't know about you but things have been going pretty great in my mind, I have never been happier in my life," he paused. He had to do this. They turned their entire body to face him.

"I wondering if you would do me the honors," he spoke softly. But then his luck hit and he went silent.

"Ko? Are you okay?" they asked Komaeda carefully as he buried his face into his hands.

"It's gone." He didn't look up at you. "What's gone?" they asked, worried for their boyfriend.

"The ring! I planned this all week! Everything was going great, but the ring is gone!" he raved about his predicament. He had this entire planned out, but he never thought he would drop the ring! They attempted to comfort Nagito bug it didn't seem to work. An idea popped into their head. They also had something planned.

"Hey, love.You remember when we went to Hope's Peak and one day, I arrived to school without my school lunch card?" they asked him. Nagito looked up at them in confusion, but nodded anyway. "Yeah, I remember. You had to skip breakfast at home because you were late, and almost cried when you realized you didn't have it. I let you use mine that day because I wasn't planning on eating anyway."

They reached into your pocket, smiling. Covering Nagito's eyes with they're other arm, they pulled the small box put of their pocket before putting it into Komaeda's hand.

Komaeda stared in shock, they were planning the same thing.....

"Consider that my payment. Now come on. Let's go look for the other ring."

~+Є^И^∂+~

Gυи∂нαм Тαиαкα 🐹 (Place holder name will be Persephone. Pronouns are still GN.)

~+^+~

"Employment"

Persephone needed a job. And fast. They and their mother got into a fight - a very bad fight. She withdrew all her money from their college funds without warning, and no matter what Persephone did, she refused to put the money back. To add insult to injury, they got fired from their previous job without reason.

So here Persephone was now, walking home after a failed interview. 'We'll call you,' such bullshit. They were scowling at the ground, upset with the interviewer for being such an idiot. Persephone did everything right, they were sure of it. On the way back to their apartment, they passed by a vet clinic before reversing to look at the place. A "Help Wanted" sign was on the door for an assistant. They had basic knowledge of animals and animal healthcare, they knew how to be an assistant, how to make appointments, how to properly handle animals. This could work. To make it even better, they recognized the name as a place a classmate worked at. Gundham Tananka was it? Persephone entered the building.

"Hello? Anyone in here?" they asked out loud as they walked around the large front desk area. A few minutes of sitting in there, waiting for someone to appear, they eventually gave up and was about to gloomily walk out when a elder women walked in.

"Oh, hello, dearie. I came to get my dog checked up on. She's been acting funny recently," the woman spoke, holding a very adorable teacup dog.

"Um, is it an emergency? I could go get someone in here immediately," Persephone spoke, pointing to where the back was.

"No, not necessarily. She still seems very healthy and she's eating and doing number two just fine," the woman explained, Persephone looked at the calendar on the desk.

"Okay, well judging by the schedule, it seems that it'd be best to come back tomorrow and see if you could get in sometime on Wednesday or Friday. However, if it's easier for you, you could call us!" Persephone feigned working here just for a moment. The woman asked for the number and looking at the wall behind the women, they were able to read it out to her.

As the woman left, a deep voice came from behind Persephone.

"Are you looking for a job here?"

~+Є^И^∂+~

Кσкι¢нι Συмα 🤥 (Place holder name is Athena. Pronouns are they/them.)

"Advice"

~+^+~

What would someone do in this situation? Kokichi sat there, awkwardly rubbing Athena's back as they sobbed and raved about the most recent break-up they've had. From what Kokichi was able to clearly understand, they're ex was cheating on them with two other people. It really effected them. So much so, in fact, that before Ouma arrived, they cut/dyed their hair and self-pierced they're ears. What does Kokichi do?

Advice. He has to come up with the best damn advice he could think of.

"THEY HAD THE FUCKING NERVE TO CALL ME THE WHORE. BITCH, I WILL FUCKING SET YOUR CAR ON FIRE," Athena shouted over their own sobbing, shoveling ice cream into their mouth. Perfect.

"I suck at giving advice, but I guess I could manage just this once," Ouma started, before continuing, "You should tell the other people since, from what I gathered, they don't know. Yet. You should also get in contact with his mother. Most moms I've met would be so mad at they're som in this situation."

Athena sighed, finally calming down their relentless sobbing. They fell back against the bed looking sadly at the ice cream between their legs. An idea arrived in their head.

"Ouma," his head snapped towards their face and not the ice cream begging him to eat it. "Could you help me with a... "prank"?"

"Sure! Although I never thought you would turn over to the dark side," Ouma teased in attempt to lighten the mood.

"It's not actually a prank, unless you want it be just a prank," Athena clarified. "Well then tell me what it is and then I'll decide," Ouma responded.

"Let's go on a date."

~+Є^И^∂+~

Jยภƙ๏ Єภ๏ร♄ί๓ค (๒єtค) 💄(Place holder name is Eros. Pronouns are GN.)

"Recipe"

~+^+~

'Do you have any allergies?' was the most random question Eros have ever received at 3 in the morning. They woke up to use the restroom but was overwhelmed with confusion by the text. It wasn't exactly abnormal for their girlfriend to be up late at night but 3 AM? Really? Of course, they sent an answer and asked her what she needed it for but the only response they received was, 'I love you a lot, night <3' Eros couldn't sleep when they got back to bed, worried with whatever it was that Junko was planning. In the midst of their thinking, they found themself falling back into slumber.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah!!! Wakeee upppp!!!" a familiar female shouted at the sleeping Eros. They lightly put a hand to the female arm, slightly pushing her away as they awoken.

"Junko...? What are you doing here? Isn't it really early?" they grumbled sitting up completely as their girlfriend handed them a coffee.

"Mm, for you sure. But it's around normal time for me," she responded, as she got up and walked over to Eros's desk in the corner. "What are you even doing here?" they questioned, ignoring the slight mocking from Junko.

"Well, as the great and gorgeous girlfriend I am, I decided to make you something," she answered, picking up a tray Eros didn't even notice and caring it over towards them. She sat the tray on their lap, careful not to make a mess. Junko removed the lid (is that what it's called?) from the plate revealing probably some of the most delicious food Eros has ever laid their eyes on.

"...I don't-I don't know what to say.... What's the catch?" they asked suspiciously. This was very uncommon behavior from their girlfriend. Junko rolled her eyes as she made her way to the other side of the bed, sitting next to them.

"There is no catch, I promise. You don't have to say anything, just eat," she said rather softly. They listened and ate began eating.

"Wow,this is really good. What's in it?"

"It's a secret family recipe. You'll know soon enough though." She winks.

~+Є^И^∂+~

Ί๒ยƙί ๓ί๏๔ค (๒єtค) 🎸 (Place holder name is Dionysus. Pronouns are GN. Place holder talent Ultimate Chemist.)

"Mall"

~+^+~

Going shopping with Ibuki was always a treat. She was very hyper and got really distracted a lot. Still, anytime Dionysus got to spend with her was precious. With their differences in jobs, they didn't get to see each other in person very often. Ibuki always traveling with Leon, making a name out of herself. Dionysus was always working on different mixtures and could rarely ever take a break, keeping them in the lab most of the time.

Ibuki gave a slight hop before turning to her lovely partner. "Hey, hey! Let's split up and go shopping! We have the entire week together so let's both try to have time to ourselves for a minute!" Ibuki proposed. Dionysus gave a nod in agreement. They came up with a time to meet back up here, and with that,Ibuki basically skipped away.

Dionysus just kinda wandered around before coming across a jewelry store. After sitting their for a moment thinking if they would go in, they finally made a choice and came up with a plan. They walked inside and looked around at the jewelry, but mostly just the engagement rings. Ibuki's birthstone was citrine and Dionysus knew Ibuki hated being the same as others. Therefore, it made sense she'd prefer something unique.

They picked out a ring for Ibuki and paid with their private banking account - can't have Ibuki getting curious and checking the shared account. Once they had left the store, the remaining time was spent wandering around the mall. Going into random stores, not really buying anything though.

They both met back up at the spot. As expected, Ibuki was very curious about what was in the unnamed bag.

"Pleaaasssseeeee! Please, please, pleaasssseeeeee!!!" Ibuki begged to know what was inside the mysterious bag as Dionysus just chuckled at her desperation.

"Sorry, can't tell you yet," they replied, not taking their eyes off the road. Ibuki pouted.

"Then when will you tell meee!?"

"Soon. Very soon."

[kpopisthereasonihavenolife]

Taboo Attachment

BTS

Park Jimin/Reader [F]

Genre: Demon AU, Arranged Marriage?, Copious amounts of fluff, Logically impossible tween stupidity, Incredibly dense adult Y/n, Jungkook’s a bit of an ass oops

Warning(s): Minor violence towards the end

Words: 18k 

Summary: Young innocence and an unhealthily stupid-lack of common sense lead to you accidentally summoning a demon on your 13th birthday. Somehow agreeing and forming some contract with the said demon, they disappear and so does your memory of it. 10 years later and finally financially stable enough to start college, you wake up with an ash-grey ring in your right ring finger. Despite your efforts, the ring will absolutely not come off. Now, all of a sudden your demon returns and apparently 13-year-old you got yourself engaged to this demon man.

----

a/n: WOWIE I finally finished this monster LOL. It only took me months of procrastination (and several compliments from Cam lmao). Pls love Demon Jimin, he just wants to get married

----

@angeltothecore @jong-yixing @geekybookworm1993 @hobi-sunshineee @skytime092 @gingerpeachtae

-XXX-

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?  

The demon perched in the shadows of your bathroom as he sat on the top of your glass shower door that was firmly shut.  His spiraled horns breaching his skull as they pointed towards the heavens they will never belong.  His black hair hovered over his crimson-dulled eyes as his fangs remained hidden behind his frown.  His skin was grey and a thin, barbed ended tail sung and tapping your shower door ever so lightly that you didn’t even take notice. His skin darkened to a pitch, coal-black at his elbows to his hands and from his knees to his feet.  Wearing only a cloak tied around his waist that hung loosely off his shoulders, he almost growled.  

Why had he suddenly been summoned to a little fucking girl’s bathroom that was pitch black dark and covered in scented candles that made his nose burn? His claws black hand covered his nose and mouth, the scent of ‘Autumn Leaves’ absolutely nauseating. His single ash-grey ring was oddly warm against his skin. 

Your scent was young, as your body was fragile and tiny.  No older than 13 he guessed.  It had been a while since he had seen a human, much less a human child.  Wearing a tacky nightgown in the ugliest shade of yellow he had ever seen and socks up to your knee that hid under the length of your gown.  Your hair was a mess like you just rolled out of bed.  It was just barely brushing your shoulders with its short length. 

You held what looked like a well worn down container of lipstick that you had used to scribble on the mirror in front of you. A lame excuse of a spell circle he saw in the uneven shapes and symbols.  Lighting your candles on either side of the sink and even on the toilet tower. Was this some stupid prank?  Were you a demon in disguise here to just jerk him around with your stupid little half-ass summoning? 

You dropped the lipstick into the sink’s bowl as you squeaked and covered your mouth, quickly looking at the closed bathroom door.  The demon’s head followed and watched as nothing happened.  His barbed tail whipped as you let out a sigh of relief.  You trotted to the door, locking it and flinching with the lock clicked almost too loud.  Like it would wake up your parents.  

The demon sat perched cupped his cheek in one of his hands, the other still cutting the smell of the candles off from his nose.  He almost chuckled.  Performing a summoning in secret at balls-ass o’clock behind mommy and daddy’s backs and your just now locking the door? God, children were so stupid. 

The demon almost spoke up, but he remained silent.  Obviously, you didn’t know you had already rudely awoken him from his slumber and dragged him here in his sleeping robe.  You were completely clueless to the horned and fanged beast right under your nose- rather right above your puny little head. 

When you left your sink cabinet, the demon peered some other objects in the sink’s bowl.  There was a silver bowl, looking cheap and used like it came right out of your mother’s baking cabinet (it did). Inside the bowl was all sorts of objects that different demon’s could possibly fancy.  

A cheapy made and obviously fake stone knife with hardly any edge or point on it.  A salt shaker filled with salt with the holed top taped up so none would escape its glass spice prison. A doll that looked like a 45-year-old bling hag and sewed it together for someone she hated.  It was too much like a cheap version of a voodoo doll, but hell if you knew that when you decided to add it to your treasure bowl.  

The demon also noticed a piece of printer paper taped onto the sink’s countertop.  Squinting his red eyes to get a better look at the words so far from him, he read your language of course as well as what he could assume was Latin.  He’s heard it enough as he silently ran the words through his head.  

He sat straighter on top of your shower door as he shrugged.  Well, he had to give you some credit for trying.  Of course, the summoning did work, he wasn’t something he really needed to stick around for.  This demon- he- was a demon used in trade summoning.  Summoning that only need to take place when the summoner will exchange something with the demon in return.  Naturally, it wouldn’t be a true demon bargain unless there were a few rules the summoner would be forced to obey. 

For example, the list of names he had stolen the souls of and dragged them down with him into hell was still growing.  He had a pretty hefty track record of always giving his client what they wanted, as well as always securing their soul in life and of course in death.  He’s done trades of service and of objects, he wasn’t picky.  Work and work and with how long he’s been at it, it was all very dull. 

Perhaps that’s why he stuck around watching this clueless, stupid teenager barely at puberty floundering around at 3 AM.  You were something quite unique to the demon’s interest.  

He watched you cup your chin as you scanned the paper that held the spell you chanted to get him here.  He wondered if you even knew what kind of demon you were summoning or if you were just doing this blind for God-knows-what reason.  

Human’s get more interesting with each stupid generation, he thought to himself as he let out another swish of his tail. Perhaps he should introduce himself he thought as he grinned to himself.  His fangs showing as he swung his tail to hit the glass of your shower door, finally getting your attention as you turned around and made eye contact with your demon.

-XXX-

It was your 13th birthday as you woke up to the dreary cloudy sky outside.  You sat in your bed, yawning and looking outside in a daze.  You had to go to school today and you wished your parents would let you stay home since it was your birthday.  It’s not like you had anyone to spend it with other than your parents.  

You were only 13.  The effects of puberty and social norms hitting you like a nuclear bomb.  If you weren’t dressed in what was popular, you didn’t leave your house.  You bought all the ‘very in’ school bags and pencils and books.  You read on all the stupid gossip about celebrities and feigned a ‘starstruck’ crush on some over the top male teen idol.  

Only 13 and you were desperate to have some sort of connection with someone.  You hadn’t had many friends when you were younger.  Too much of a tomboy and when you were in the 4th grade, someone accused you of feeding the class pet- a hamster- something bad that made it very sick and it eventually died.  You knew it wasn’t you, but no one listened and the teacher scolded you.  Everyone avoided you after that. 

Of course, your mother and father were very generous people and treated you well, but when they worked all the time it wasn’t the same as what a friend would be.  Their companionship was appreciated, but not what you craved.  

Life was tough to a 13-year-old middle schooler.  You just huffed as you flopped back on your bed, wanting to go back to bed when your mother knocked on your door, telling you to get up and get ready.  

She always took you to school when she left for work in the morning.  Though, you had to walk home.  You didn’t have the guts to ride the bus.  It was too cramped and putting yourself in a tiny space where everyone was forced to ignore you or snicker behind the stupid, uncomfortable leather seats wasn’t worth the hassle. 

At least no one knew it was your birthday and you could go through the day normally.  You pulled on your jacket, some t-shirt with a bigshot band and your jeans as you slipped on your shoes and grabbed your bag with all your completed homework inside.  

Going downstairs, saying hello and receiving a warm happy birthday message from your parents, you loaded into your mother’s car and soon was staring at the neighborhood zoomed passed your eyes out the window.  You watched people walk in groups or lots of kids waiting for their bus.  Jealous, you closed your eyes and just wished the day would end.  

It was in your history class that your teacher, instead of actually teaching today, turned on some random movie about a person who summoned a demon.  The protagonist and this demon go on some sort of trip to achieve some goal, but you zoned it out as the solution to your solitude was right in front of you. 

If you couldn’t make friends, you could just summon one!  The rest of the day was filled with you sneaking your phone out in class and researching all sorts of demon summonings.  You were confused by everything you read.  Some articles didn’t take themselves seriously, others took themselves very seriously and some just contradicted what you read on a different site.  

You came home in a rush and went to your room to read up more, even renting a book about demons from your school’s library.  You were desperate and impatient, so you would cram as much knowledge in your brain as you could.  You would be performing this summoning tonight, be it hell or high water. 

Going to bed early and telling your parents' goodnight, you fell asleep before groggily waking up at the alarm you set for 2:45 AM.  Trudging around your room, you grabbed the paper spell you printed before you tiptoed around your dark and quiet house.  Loading up a bowl with all sorts of things you read about before going to your bathroom and shutting the door.  The nightlight plugged into the wall was flicked off by you as you lit your candles and then began.  

You panicked as you dropped your mother’s lipstick into the sick and ran to the door to lock it after making sure it was still absolutely silent in your house.  Your bathroom was quite away from your parent’s room, so it wasn’t logical they’d hear you anyways.  

You sighed as you walked to reread your paper.  Maybe you chanted the spell wrong?  You obviously weren’t very well versed in Latin. You were ready to maybe give it another go or give up when you nearly screamed at the bang behind you.  Something hit your shower door and you whipped around.  

Nothing was behind the glass, but when you looked up, you locked eyes with someone.  No, something?  It wasn’t human by any stretch.  They hid well in the darkness, almost unseeable, but their glowing red eyes blinking made solid proof they were in fact there.  

You heard whatever it was chuckle lightly before they jumped off your shower door and back into the shower itself.  You saw their blurry silhouette stand behind the glass door.  They were tall and you could see the outline of their horns stretching above their head. A vague shadow of something whipping around behind them was also visible in the dark room that your eyes had grown accustomed to. 

You swallowed a lump in your throat as you stepped forward cautiously and grabbed the small handle of your magnetic shower door and lightly pulled it open.  A small click of the magnetic detaching and the whine of the door as you slowly opened it.  Revealing the grey-skinned demon in front of your large, teenage eyes. 

You actually did it.  You legitimately summoned a demon.  Like, a real one?  He looked authentic enough at least.  Not some trick of the mind or some dream your desperate wants threw together in your head.  No, he had to be real.  He was almost terrifyingly so. 

“Good evening,” he slurred to you.  His voice was low and almost felt like it slithered like a snake.  Smooth and unwavering like a single tone. “It’s not every night I get little one’s summoning me,” he coaxed.  A shiver ran up your spine at his voice again. 

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as you held your hands together in front of your chest.  The reality of the entire situation not sinking in.  You had a demon you summoned in your bathroom at 3 AM after your birthday. 

The demon chuckled as he folded his hands behind his back, putting on the most innocent smile he could muster.  Children were so fragile.  He couldn’t have you go and faint with his overwhelming presence and with how hard he could hear your heart beating, it could very well happen.  

“What is your name dear?” He sang to you.  You gulped.  You remembered reading that if a demon asks your name, you must insist they tell you their first.  You opened your mouth to ask him his in proper demon etiquette, but your throat was too dry.  Swallowing and opening and closing your mouth as a way to make sure your lips still worked, you tried again.  

“What’s-” you fumbled but regained your voice with a clearing of your throat.  “What’s your name?” You mimicked his question back to him.  He just smiled.  

“So,” he began, obviously not going to tell you his name so easily, “you know the bare minimum of demon introduction at the very least.  I’m impressed a little sprout like you can even handle summoning a demon with my power.”  If he wasn’t a demon that looked like he could rip out your kidney and eat it like some creepypasta character, you would get mad at him for repeatedly calling you little.  

He cocked his head at you, remaining his charade of innocence as you remained silent.  Why was it always the children who remained so shell shocked at something they were expecting to happen?  Sure, adults were too, but they were at least capable of screaming or throwing a fit or something.  Children just stop functioning.  

“Dear?” He tried again.  You just shook your head. 

“You first,” you were stubborn at least.  He tutted his brow up as he unclasped his hands behind his back and placed them on his hips.  His unearthly long claws catching your eye and making you swallow.  With those, he really could rip out your kidney if he wanted to.  

Tapping those dangerous fingers on his lips that seemed to be stuck in a permanent smirk, he finally put his hand back down.  Letting it hang past his slim waist and playfully drumming his fingers against his thigh. 

“Which name would you prefer, little one?” His voice teased.  He has pulled you along with a game of guesses, not willing to answer you easily.  He did have many names to be fair.  From slurs of his world to nicknames, to his demon name and his original name before his demonic ways came to fruition.  The demon moved to saunter far too graciously to your sink, placing his rear on the top of the counter and crossing his legs. “Did you not know my name despite you summoning me?  That’s far too clumsy- for a child to make mistakes like that.” 

He moved one hand, a clawed finger pointed at your heart.  “Any other demon met with such an incompetent summoner would tear out your heart as payment.” He watched you visibly gulp again.  Your hair stood up on end on your arm as your back held the best straight posture of your young life. 

You shook your head.  “I just wanted-” you cut yourself off.  The demon arched a dark brow at you as he brought his hand back to rest lazily over his lap.  Your voice turned shaky, fluttering with uncertainty and a sense of what he could almost call desperation.  As if you were trying to plead with him to sympathize with you. 

Demons could not feel sympathy.  If they did, it would be a weakness and the first step to an attachment.  That was the last thing any demon wanted. To become attached to anyone or anything. 

“You just wanted what, child?” The demon’s voice changed.  Altering just a bit.  An undertone like a second voice layering over his original velvet voice.  Like static or a low buzzing hum in the background. 

You looked down at your feet covered in socks on your tiled bathroom floor.  “I just wanted someone to talk to,” you pathetically whispered. 

Your sporadic new-teenage hormones made you tear up. You sniffled as the demon lifted his hand from his lap and used it to push back his hair, making some of it stand up every which way.  You sniffled again as you held your burning tears.  The demon only looked at you confused. 

This human child wanted someone to talk to so she summoned a demon? He thought to himself.  You were the embodiment of a pathetic and lonely child. “Just go find some other rugrats to scuffle with.  Don’t drag us demons into it,” his layered voice told you. 

“No one likes me though,” you told him back.  “Everyone thinks I’m mean and I try really hard to fit in, but- they just make fun of me.” The demon held a scoff back from escaping him.  So, you really were a child.  Trying to twist who you are to benefit those around you just for a chance of some sort of connection to another. 

“Is your wish then to have a companion? Someone who will stay at your side and never waver? To fill that lonely void?” The demon pointed to your heart once more.  Your heart that desired- craved- a connection.  You found yourself nodding in agreement.  A smile wormed its way onto the demon’s face.  “Little one, I am a demon of trades.  Do you know what that means?” You shook your head no.  “It means, I’ll give you anything you ask of me, but I must get something back from you in return.” 

You grew nervous. What could a demon want from you?  Rather, what could you possibly even give demon?  You were 13 for Christ's sake (hah)! The demon stared at you and felt something ripple in his chest.  He smirked.  He held his hand out, opening his palm from the finger he pointed and flipped it so his palm faced upward towards the ceiling and the shut-off bathroom light.  

“I’ll give you what you want,” he started- gaining your attention. “What I ask in return is simple.”  You opened your mouth but shut it again.  You just shook your head. 

“But, I still don’t know your name,” you whispered with a small scruff sound to your voice. 

The demon chuckled again.  If what he felt was indeed what he thought and if he were to follow through with this deal, then this deal would be his last.  He’s had his fun with his world and he was bored anyway.  

“My name- to you only, little one- is Jimin.”  His name resonated with you in some way.  You said it, testing it and he felt a jolt in his chest, making him laugh.  You looked at him with a confused, almost judgemental, stare.  “Don’t give me that look,” he jokingly said. 

“What was it you wanted from me, Jimin? You never told me.”

Jimin held up two of his fingers.  “I must first know your name back, don’t you think that’s fair?” He smiled, his black lips curling almost innocently. 

“Oh, um.  Y/n, it’s Y/n.”  You gave it to him easily now.  He nodded.  The name was suited to fit you.  Jimin’s hand was still outstretched to you.  “What’s the second thing then?” 

“Your hand,” he answered simply. “I desire your hand.”  You easily gave it.  Placing your puny hand in his black, clawed palm.  His fingers curled around your hand easily engulfing it.  “I am centuries old, but even I have rules. You’re far too young yet.” He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it as a symbol of him flashed over your skin before it faded.  The mark was now gone and he smiled, knowing the spell was still there.  “Our deal is complete, though it will take a long time for it to be carried out.  You’ll have to be a strong girl until then.” 

He gently dropped your hand and stood up from the sink and bent down to your eye level. His dark red eyes looked into your wide, childish ones.  He could only imagine how they could mature and grow over time in your life.  He chuckled as he smiled at you.  

“Your soul now officially belongs to me.  Don’t forget that, little Y/n.” 

You bolted away in bed the next morning when your alarm went off.  6:30 AM and supposed to be getting ready for school.  Had it all been a dream?  You flung your covers off, kicking your legs free and ran to the bathroom.  It was empty and clean of any demon summoning evidence. 

No smeared lipstick on the mirror.  No scented candles or your bowl of items in the sink.  No evidence of you ever meeting the demon named Jimin.  You held and looked at the hand he took and kissed as you went back to your room. Flopping ungracefully on your bed.  

“It was only a dream,” you told yourself dejectedly.  And, like a dream, you gradually forgot all about Jimin.  Never aware of the swishing barbed tail and a pair of red eyes checking on you from time to time. Not noticing even every year on your birthday when those eyes glowed the brightest. 

-XXX-

“Yeah, I know mom.  Yes- I know.  I’m 23 now, I think I can survive if you're not here on my birthday.  Stay home with day and relax for once.  Listen, I just got to work, I’ve gotta go.  Yeah, I love you too.  Bye, mom.” You cut the call that was playing through the speakers of your car as your music automatically resumed playing once the call disconnected. 

You could really blame your mother for fretting over your birthday.  She’d seen 22 of them and on number 23 she wouldn’t be there.  You had moved out after slaving away at 3 jobs to get enough money to get an apartment and finally start college.  Stable enough to get on your feet was all you really wanted to be at this point.  And to take the burden of all your problems off your parents.  They needed their own time at such an age. 

Your miserable days in middle school remained and that negative strength lasted all the way into and even through your high school career.  You still felt bitter, but you didn’t let it bother you anymore.  You engrossed yourself in books and studying, ignoring those around you who tried to get under your skin.  The only reason you turned down a scholarship offered to you was so you could stay at home a few years before taking another step forward. 

Always better to practice the art of adulthood with more experienced adults at your left and right. Besides, going into college immediately after high school was something forced on young people by society.  It wasn't the be-all, end-all.  Waiting wouldn’t hurt you or anyone else for that matter. 

Pulling into your parking space and hopping out of your car, you waltzing into your workplace.  Greeted by the manager of the local coffee shop where you barista at along with her and her son, Seokjin.  He wasn’t much of a coffee maker, but he kills it with his job with all the pastries.  He was 4 years older than you and in his last year of college.  Aiming for a simple bachelor's degree, he just wanted to get a better paying job to support himself and his mother. He and his mom live together and she’s told you before that she will never chase him out.  

Seokjin’s father passed away years ago, and he felt so guilty anytime he had to leave for a long time.  He knew his mother wasn’t alone per se, but he did love her.  So, he spent his free time in the shop or at home with her.  He’s even taken her on some ‘dates’ where he just spoils her completely rotten.  

The close-knit family of 2 absolutely warmed your heart. 

Besides, with a face like Seokjin’s, you never have to worry about business.  IN fact, ever since he started working alongside his mother, there hasn’t been a slow easy-going day.  A blessing for revenue and paychecks, but a curse for your lack of free time. 

There isn’t much different today than usual.  A rush in the morning, a slow break between 10 and noon and then the lunch rush hits.  After that, it’s all hit and miss on when it will pick up.  You were removing your apron and releasing your hair from the too-tight ponytail you created this morning when your manager approached you. 

“You’ve started college, yes?  How is it?” She was like some aunt of yours as she slotting into your life.  Seokjin fitting right in as an annoying cousin role as he walked into the conversation, the counter free of customers until that front counter bell should ring. 

“Yup.  I started last week.  Orientation was a bit boring, and of course, all the syllabi seems a bit unnecessary, but it’s moving along.  We actually start classes tomorrow.”  You smiled as the three of you talked.  Soon, that bell rung before your manager rushed off, taking it before Seokjin could.  He stood around, talking to you a bit longer. 

“I’m in your college,” he told you with a hand on his head.  You knew this already, but he wasn’t someone you expected to really run into.  He was quite popular.  “Hunt me down if you need anything, you’ve got my number.”  He smiled.  

“Mr. Popular running to my beck and call, how charming.”  He moved his hand from your head as he cupped his chin.  

“What can I say, my existence itself is charming.”  You playfully rolled your eyes as you hang your apron up on the hook with your hand above it.  “Seriously, it can be a bit overwhelming and I am pretty smart.  If you have trouble, let me know.  I can even tutor you some time if you need it.”  He told you as you patted his shoulder and nodded.  He worried and you appreciated it.  

When you walked into your apartment that night, something felt wrong.  You didn’t know what, but it just didn’t seem normal?  You looked around and nothing was off and no one was here obviously.  Maybe you were just psyching yourself out before classes tomorrow.  

You plopped yourself on your couch as you closed your eyes, kicked your head back as you breathed.  It was strange as you opened your eyes and looked at your right hand.  It felt odd, a tingling sensation floating over and around it.  Your finger felt numb as you opened and closed your fist.  You just shook your head as you got up and went to take a shower.  Maybe that would make you feel better. 

You jolted awake with a heavy breath and a couch at nearly 3 AM.  You panted as you pushed your bangs back, feeling a small sheen layer of sweat there.  You felt like you just had a nightmare, but you couldn’t remember.  Your chest was tight as you dropped your hand back to your mattress as you sit sat up.  

Something felt tight around your ring finger on your right hand, and with it being too dark, you used your left hand to feel around it.  It felt like a ring was strapped onto your finger?  The ring was thin, metal and flat.  It was warm like you had been wearing it for a long time or someone else had been before you.  You knew it wasn’t yours, you didn’t own many rings.  

Confused, you tried tugging it off, but it wouldn’t budge.  Light panic sat in your chest as you twisted and pulled, trying to get the ring off.  It wasn’t as if it would move and your finger was too thick to take it off, no.  It just wouldn’t move period.  It would twist in place, but it would not move up or down your finger.  Like it was bound on or something. 

You sighed as your tugging game was put on hold from your growing panic. You decided to forget it and you’d deal with it in the morning.  Tugging your blanket up to lay back down and tuck yourself back in, something felt weighed down on your blanket.  Tugging again, you stretched your foot and something was sitting at the foot of your bed, weighing your blanket down.  

You were scared to move.  Slowly grabbing your phone you flipped the flashlight on and looked at the foot of your bed.  You screamed as you scurried up your mattress against the headboard, dropping your phone in your haste.  

Picking it back up you held it as you sat, knees up against your chest as you pushed yourself against eh headboard the best you could.  Sitting as far as you could from that thing at the end of your bed. 

“Who are you?!” You screeched as they rolled their eyes.  Red eyes, grey skin, black shirt and pants with a tail and horns.  Who was this?!  He didn’t even look human, but you were trying to convince yourself that some freaky cosplayer broke into your house.  You did know that there were a group of some weird-ass people who read some internet interactive novel online from some posts you’ve read on social media.  Maybe it was one of them? 

There wasn’t a speck of color on the intruder.  Be it skin or clothes.  His shirt was buttoned and tucked into his pitch pants and he was shoeless, his black feet tucked under his cross legs.  His tail barbed and swaying behind him as he smirked.  His fangs were the only white thing on him.  Even the ‘whites’ of his eyes were black surrounding his red iris. 

“Human memories really are the most unreliable thing in the universe,” he spoke as you screamed again.  He covered his ears as he grimaced. He stood on your mattress, his feet pushing into the covers as he walked over to you and bent his knees to squat to your level.  

He looked into your eyes and something almost sparked in you.  Like a recollection of something you’ve seen before, but can’t place your finger on it.  He watched as your eyes searched is own, now quiet as you tried to remember something.  He smiled as he saw the confusion in your human eyes.  

You moved to look at his tail behind him as you gasped, almost screaming again.  He quickly pushed his hand over your mouth, not wanting to hear another scream that pierced his ears.  “We’ll talk in the morning, little one,” he smirked as he saw your eyes widen as you took in a shaky breath through your nose.  

You shook your head, knowing there was no way you’d be able to sleep with this demon in your home.  Your eyes darted around as he rolled his eyes and covered your mouth just for a moment.  Just long enough to push his black lips onto your pink ones.  You gasped as you closed your eyes, bracing yourself as he was unusually calm. 

You felt your strength leaves you bit by bit as you soon relaxed and your tightly scrunched eyes eased up when you passed out.  Slumping back, the demon held you and straighten your body out before pulling the covers over you and getting off your bed.  Walking around your room and looking at your bags of books and notebooks, going through your style of clothing and all the small amount of jewelry you owned.  

He looked over his shoulder before he smiled and joined you on your bed.  Laying on the free side of it as he watched your sleep.  “You grew up, just like I thought you would,” he whispered. 

-XXX-

You stirred as you took a breath through your nose at what you could assume was early in the morning.  You were still tired, and half tempted to forget it and go back to sleep.  Even keeping your eyes closed, very close to just deciding sleep was worth it.  

You had a distinct feeling something happened, or maybe you had some weird-ass dream last night.  You felt more tired than you should for sleeping as much as you did.  You breathed heavy when you felt a weight on your chest.  The mattress around you was pushing down like something was on the mattress beside you.  

Cracking open your eyes, you took a moment to process the grey figure looking down at you.  Feet perched on either side of your arms, crouching and resting his arms on his bent knees, Jimin stared down at you.  You blinked up to him, processing like a slow running computer before you shot up, shoving him in the chest and flinging him onto the floor. You scrambled out of the opposite side of your bed, throwing your covers onto his head to buy you some time as you run for your bedroom door.  

You screamed when your blanket hit your back in a giant wad.  Knocking you forward, you whipped around.  Jimin was stood up, brushing off his arms and glaring at you.  He looked so different in the daytime as you could see him clearly instead of standing in the shadows. 

“You are the rudest human I’ve ever met.  I can’t believe you threw a fucking blanket on me like I’d get stumped like some stupid dog,” he grumbled as he rubbed his head. “You could’ve damaged my neck, brat.”  You inched towards your door, still wanting to at least leave your room, Jimin just walked over to you, standing in front of your door.  

“I- uh,” you looked at him.  Pointing at him then, your bed, before you groaned and started pacing back and forth.  Jimin watched your pacing as he sighed and sat down, crossing his legs in front of your door.  He pushed his clawed hand into his grey cheek as he looked bored.  You suddenly stopped and looked down at him from across the room.  “You... You’re not a human?”  

Jimin looked at his claws, waving them teasingly waving them around as he then gestured to the spiraled horns on his head.  Not to mention the barbed tail swishing around behind him like it had a mind of his own. “I think the skin color could speak for itself, but if you still have doubts, take a look at the fucking bones out of my forehead and devil’s tail.”  

You stopped and marched over to him.  Dropping to your knees you grabbed his cheeks between your fingers and pulled.  Stretching his skin before letting go.  You moved to quickly open his eyes wide and looked at his red eyes.  You tugged on his hair, flicked his horns and opened his mouth to look at his fangs.  He growled in annoyance as you poked and prodded at him.  “HEY!” He shouted when you tugged on his tail.  

“How are you real?!  I thought you were a dream!” You panicked.  

“Well, that sounds like a personal problem to me,” he smirked as his tail whipped around in a teasing, almost spunky manner.  

“I was 13! What do you even want?” He pointed to your hand, more specifically to the ash grey ring you had completely forgotten about from last night.  You looked at it.  “This?” You showed it, trying to take it off once again.  Groaning and making quite the embarrassing amount of effort to try and remove it.  

“It’s not coming off.  I charmed it so it’s stuck there unless I remove it,” Jimin told you, closing his eyes as if he just told you the most obvious fact in the world.  Like how ladybugs are black and red.  “Have you forgotten what our deal was?”  He asked. 

“I… I wanted a friend back then.  So, you told me to give you my-” you stopped and looked at the ring on your finger, “-hand.”  Jimin cracked open his eyes as he reached over and grabbed your ringed right hand, holding it close to his mouth.  

That same symbol he marked under your skin 10 years ago showing up for a split second, like a pulse and making you gasp.  Kissing your hand again, he looked at you.  “You should always catch wind of double meanings in any and all demon contracts, sweetheart.  Even if you were young, you did agree.” 

“You tricked me! I was a kid!”  Jimin shrugged.  

“It's my job.  You should be honored that you were my final assignment.” 

“Final- what?” 

“Do you know, attachment to clients is a taboo in the demonic society. Any sign of attachment is dealt with immediate termination of the contract.  Though, there are some who decide to indulge in the attachment and decide that one job is more important than any other possible future ones.” 

You sat in front of him as he still held your hand in his own.  Dressed in a black suit with his dull gray skin and completely unnatural- well, everything.  

“I formed my final contract 10 years ago at 3 AM to a silly, lonely little girl.  You, Y/n, became my attachment. We’re officially engaged, sweetheart.” 

-XXX-

“You haven’t been at work for three days because you were too busy getting engaged?!” You covered your ears as you roll your eyes at Seokjin’s initial reaction to your big news.  Three days ago, when Jimin showed up in your apartment, you called your manager if there was any way you could possibly get the next few days off.  You didn’t want to tell her the situation but promised to when you came back in.  She was understanding enough and now, fast forward to now.  Seokjin grabbed your shoulders, shaking you around. “How come you didn’t tell me?! I would’ve filmed it or something, you didn’t even tell me you had a boyfriend!” 

You shook his hands off your shoulders as you straighten out your sleeves he crumpled up on your shoulders. “Look, what I do in my personal life really doesn’t matter, does it?” You told him as he just crossed his arms and pouted. You chuckled at him as his mother came around the corner, wiping her wet hands on her apron.  

“What’s all this fuss about back here?” She questioned with a smile at seeing you and Seokjin back to your antics.  It was almost too calm without you here for him to pick on.  

“Oh, I was telling Seokjin here about why I had been gone, ma’am,” you told her with a smile.  You then thought for a moment, she didn’t actually know yet.  “I actually got engaged,” you told her with a nervous laugh and rubbing the back of your head.  

In full honesty, after sitting down and talking it all out with the demon who is now your betrothed, even if you didn’t want to get married to him you had no choice.  A contract with a demon is eternal binding and you would have to carry out your end of the bargain.  As such, just as Jimin promised you all those years ago, you wouldn’t have to worry about every being lonely. So, in turn, you were his now.  

He explained everything to you.  He told you back when you made that contract, that when he told you he ‘wanted your hand’ he was asking for your hand in marriage.  He told you he purposely said it like that so your stupid teenage self wouldn’t actually understand the double meaning.  He explained how he watched you grow up and was there on every birthday, but you never saw him.  

It actually almost embarrassed you how he had been there the whole time.  He even admitted to being the tiniest bit jealous of all the boyfriends and girlfriends you’ve been in a relationship with before.  He pouted when he brought up the fact that one past boyfriend was an obvious scumbucket of a man and claimed your ‘taste in human men was severely lacking’.  He earned a kick in his shin for that one. 

Jimin truly acted like he was attracted to you in all honesty.  It’s only been three days, but he was as chivalrous as a proper gentleman.  Not something one would expect from such a terrifying demon who literally hides in the corner when it’s too bright in the room at 6 in the morning.  He isn’t a fan of morning sunlight, too bright and frankly from his whole appearance, it wasn’t shocking to learn this.  

And because of his appearance, you had a little pitch fit before you left for work.  Absolutely forbidding him from leaving the apartment because if anyone saw him, they’d probably call the cops or shoot him. Horns, bare feet, grey and black skin, he would stand out like a sore thumb.  

Seokjin’s mother gasped as he grabbed your hands, shaking them up and down as she got as giddy as a teenager at the young romance blossoming from your engagement.  

“That’s absolutely lovely, sweetpea!”  He chuckled as she placed her worn, old hand on her cheek.  Her wedding ring from her late husband still in prime condition as she still did love him so much.  She was alright staying widowed; and with Seokjin, she didn’t seek another romance in her age because she wasn’t lonely.  “I remember when my husband proposed to me.  He had this elaborate plan all set up in the park we met at, but it rained right in the middle of it!  It was clumsy, but so was he,” you smiled as she fawned over the memories of her youth. 

She held your hand and looked at your grey ring place firmly on your finger.  “It is quite the unique ring for a proposal,” she chuckled.  She didn’t seem to dislike it though.  In most people’s eyes, if you told them this grey and the simplistic metallic ring was your engagement ring, they’d probably start to berate Jimin for not ‘buying’ a more glamorous ring.  However, when Jimin told you that this was the ring he’s had his entire demonic life and how much it meant to him, you felt almost proud that he gave it up for you. 

Jimin was crafty, already charming his way into your heart after just a few days.  You found it unfair because you weren’t all that desirable in your own eyes, yet here he was giving up life long possessions and sticking them on you and treating you like a legitimate fiancee. 

“You’ll have to let us meet him. You’re practically family, sweetie!”  You smiled, nervously laughing as you nodded.  You scratched your cheek as you thought to yourself about how you would keep Jimin under house arrest for the rest of your life.  “Does your mother know?  I’m sure she’s just thrilled her little daughter is growing up!” 

“Yeah, she knows.  She nearly blew a gasket when I told her.  I thought she was going to march all the way down here to interview him, but she just spoke to him over the phone and all was good,” you told your manager.  Keeping the fact that the whole ordeal took nearly 3 hours to yourself. “She’s happy for me in the long run,” you said as you were also relieved of that fact.  

Your parents knew that you didn’t have people beside you growing up, so hearing you’re engaged and set to marry at some point when you just started college was a shock.  But, they seemed to support you in your path you’re setting and you couldn’t be more thankful. 

“He’s not a shy fellow, is he?” You shook your head.  

“Oh, not at all.  In fact, he’s very outgoing and is always trying to find a way to get out of the house,” you weren’t lying.  He’s been cooped up in that house of yours for three days, all he complains about if wanting to go out. You won’t even let him out at night where he can hide in the shadows without being seen. 

“Does Mr. Right have a name, or what?” Seokjin cut in with crossed arms and a furrowed brow.  “If I don’t get a face and a name within the next 48 hours, I will be forced to confine you here until he shows himself.”  You and his mother looked at him as his face gave away that he was almost dead serious. 

“What are you? My older brother?  Sorry, but I’m an only child,” you told him as he rolled his eyes.  “His name is Jimin,” you told him.  

“Surname?” 

“Does it matter?” 

“Of course it matters, woman!” In truth, you weren’t sure if Jimin even had a surname.  He was a demon, and he mentioned how many names he actually goes by.  So, you decided to skim around the question and finally dropped the topic altogether when it was opening time.  

Seokjin placed his two fingers in front of his eyes and proceeded to whip them towards you in a typical  ‘I’ll be watching’ fashion.  Making you shaking your head as you tied on your apron with the smallest smile on your face.  Maybe all those years of solitude were worth it in the end after all. 

-XXX-

“Jimin, you better still be in this apartment or else I’m gonna tie your tail into knots!” 

“So much as touch my tail and I will bite you. Don’t test me!” You heard him scream back at you as you smiled.  Shutting the door behind you and heeling off your shoes, you pulled your jacket off and walked into your living room where you tossed it onto the back of the couch.  

Jimin sat in a chair, reading one of your books as his tail whipped around behind him and curled inwards when he saw you.  The threat of you even touching it initially making him wince. 

“Jimin, are you reading a cookbook?” He shut the book and looked at the front, seeing some sort of dish covering the front of it with the bold letters of ‘COOKBOOK’ staring at him.  He looked back at you and nodded.  “Why?” 

“Because, since we’re going to be married and I’m living with you, I do need to learn how to live as a human.” That honestly surprised you. “Why is that so shocking to you?”  You shook your head, sitting on the couch.  Seeing him take this so seriously still throws you off and a part of you almost thought that when it actually happens, he’d rip your soul out or something.  He chuckles at you. “Don’t you worry, dear.  I won’t eat your heart or anything when we wed.” 

Dismissing his stupid words he knew you were suspecting, you started a new topic.  “My coworker and boss seemed glad that I was engaged.” 

“You told them?” He asked and you nodded. 

“Yeah, of course.  I had to, I’d been gone for three days.  I couldn’t just lie to them.” Jimin arched his brows.  “Okay, I could but it wouldn’t feel right.  They’re good people, so I wouldn’t.” There was a pause for a moment when you continued.  “They want to meet you actually.”

“I’m sure a lot of people do.  Your mother was hell-bent on a phone call, I’m half shocked she didn’t bust her way through the phone.” You sighed.  “I want to clarify something,” he said as you looked at him.  “If I didn’t look like this-” he gestured to his grey and clawed self, “- I could go out.  I could meet people you work with and your parents, right?” 

“Ideally, yes.  You can’t just walk outside looking like that.  You’d probably get killed or kidnapped and taken into the government for dissection or something.” He rolled his eyes.  “Why?” 

“No reason, just curious,” you shrugged it off as the rest of the day rolled around.  The next morning, you were up late and rushing to leave your apartment to get to class on time.  Driving over the speed limit and tapping in rage on your wheel when stupidly slow drivers got in front of you. You parked in a space that was far too far away from the door and ran.  Running into Seokjin somehow on the way there.  

He only laughed at you as he stuffed a donut hole in your mouth that you nearly choked on as you continued your sprint down the halls and soon slid into a seat in your university room.  The room was set up like a stadium, semi-circular and stairstep sitting arrangement. You phone that sits on your desk lit up with a silent message.  

You had gone out and got Jimin a phone so that he can at least have some form of communication with you. He was a demon, but he already acted human enough.  He was a quick learner and if he did look the part, one wouldn’t even think he was a demon at all.  Of course, even if you voiced to the whole campus your fiancee was a demon, no one would believe you.  

[Jimin] When do you get out of class today?

[You] Does it matter? 

[Jimin] Of course it does.  I want to show you something when you’re free today.

[You] Uh, alright?  I should be done around 3, so long as no lectures run long.

[Jimin] You got it.  I’ll see you at 3 in front of your campus then.

You stared at your phone’s screen.  Rereading what he said before your thumbs ran rapidly across your screen.  If texting was a sport, you were sure you probably would’ve just earned the gold medal. 

[You] You’ll what?!

[You] Jimin!  Answer me!!!  

[You] HEY.  JIMIN I SWEAR TO GOD

[Jimin] Don’t offend me

You rolled your eyes at his comment back.  Swearing to God in the case of a demon.  He always smacked your hand lightly when you said that to him, saying that swearing to something he didn’t believe in or rather didn’t like was just mean. It made sense since he was a child of Satan or something. 

Your day ticked by as slow as high-class torture.  Time was picking at your fingernails as you tapped your foot and scribbled notes in such a frenzied fashion you’d probably end up with a magnifying glass later trying to decipher your words like some archeologist on a dig. 

When your final lecture let out it was nearly a quarter past 3 in the afternoon.  You scrambled to shove your books and notes into your bag as you picked up the strap and slung it on your shoulder, whacking it into your back as you wince.  Taking off down the halls and skipping steps, half scared of tripping and tumbling to your doom down them. 

You sped past staff and students, a few of them telling you to watch what you're doing or to stop running completely, but you just waved in apology and continued your pace. Making it outside, you slumped against the flagpole by the main entrance doors as you huffed out of breath.  The sun was warm on the skin of your legs that were revealed because of your shorts.  Your jacket was all disheveled as your shirt that was once tucked was now no longer so. Your shoelaces had even come undone in your plight of speed to get outside. 

Looking around, you didn’t see a single grey demon walking around your front campus courtyard.  Sighing, you dropped your bag onto the ground with a huff and knelt to re-tie your shoe.  If you left campus fast enough, maybe Jimin wouldn’t come and cause a scene. 

You were unaware of the low murmur of small gossip circles on campus and leaving the building.  You were also unaware of the fact that fact of the murmur was coming towards you with his hand shoved into his pockets.  

Making it in front of you, you saw a shadow at your feet and beside you as you looked up.  The sun was too bright and blocked out the sight of who it was standing in front of you.  You squinted as the person- a man- chuckled and bent his knees to be eye level with you.  

You looked at him and he looked at you as he smiled.  Looking into his eyes, a deep brown, you narrowed your eyes in concentration.  You turned your head slowly, still keeping your eyes on him, as you opened your mouth in disbelief.  

“Excuse me, but um- you wouldn’t have to be…” you pointed at him as he chuckled again.  He looked to his left and right before he looked back into your eyes and you saw his brown flash to a black and red before reverting back.  You gasped.  This human man was- “Jimin?!” You screeched.  

Jimin laughed as he fell forward on you, knocking you onto your ass on the concrete that warmed your cheeks from the afternoon sunlight.  He continued to laugh and spill out his fits of giggles from his gut as he held your arms and put his forehead on your shoulder.  

Jimin looked human.  Lightly tanned skin, brown waved hair and brown eyes.  A pair of jeans with a white shirt and jean jacket that matched his pants.  His right ear had a long dangling earring pierced through it as his left had a small hoop.  His shoes were flat and black.  He had no horns, no fangs, no claws or tail.  His skin wasn’t grey and his hands weren’t black as coal.  He looked and sounded 100% human. 

“You’re reaction was so worth it!” He laughed as he finally composed himself.  You took notice of the murmur now, as it had slightly increased from small groups to larger cliques wondering what was happening.  Normally, this was dismissed by the campus students as another couple being overly touchy, but of course, you just couldn’t fly under the radar this one time. 

You lightly pushed Jimin up and off your shoulder as you looked around his face.  He was handsome as a human too.  Just as handsome as he is as a demon.  The sun highlighted and added to the persona he put on and made your face the slightest tint of red. Jimin’s playful smirk was replaced with a wide smile as he saw you blush. 

“W-when did you?” You just pointed at the whole of him. He grabbed your hand as he stood, pulling you up with him and straightening out your jacket for you.  Tugging on the ends and straightening out the shoulders.  He would’ve tucked your shirt in if you hadn’t of slapped his hands away from your stomach. 

“Ticklish are we?” He teased. 

“Just answer my question!” You whined.  He pinched at your cheek, cooing as you were tempted to pick your bag off the ground and swing it at him like a pro baseballer aiming for a home run. 

“I changed this morning.  It’s not permanent though.  I can change back whenever I want to.  If I look like this, I’m okay to go outside, right?” 

“I guess… I can’t argue with that?  I said not as a demon- but as a human, I can’t say no to you, can I.” He smiled as he bent down and grabbed your bag. “Ah, give me that, it’s got all my books in it.”  You reached for it as he just held it away from you, putting a hand on your stomach to keep you away from it.  “Jimin!” You whined again. 

“Let my first act as a human gentleman be carrying my fiance’s bag home, yeah?” You pouted as you crossed your arms.  

“Y/n!” You heard someone behind you call for you as you almost panicked at seeing Seokjin strutting towards you.  His bag on his hip and phone in his hand, headphones coiled around it, ready to be unwound and listened to. Jimin recognized him as you took the liberty of showing him photos of Seokjin, his mother and your parents to him.  He walked up to you and Jimin.  “I saw you running out of your class like a maniac, what was that about?” 

“Oh, well you see I was just…” you looked around for an excuse before you looked at Jimin.  “I was rushing out to meet my escort home!” You gestured to Jimin.  Seokjin looked down at him.  He stood taller than Jimin.  “Seokjin, you wanted to meet him, right?  My fiance?”  Seokjin looked at you, mouth open in awe as he looked back at Jimin. 

“This is your fiance?!” He accused, almost too loudly as you could see some people whispering and gasping that the gorgeous man in front of you was engaged to you of all people.  You shushed him. 

“Shut up!  Let’s go somewhere else and talk, Jesus.”  The three of you ended up at some burger joint not far from campus to talk.  Being greeted by the staff, you smiled and waved as you took the two men in tow to a booth.  Jimin slid in with you as he sat closer than you expected him to, your thigh touching his as Seokjin sat across the table. 

You three ordered something to drink and just a basket of fries to munch on.  Jimin didn’t exactly have money and you were kinda glad that Seokjin said he’d foot the bill of the fries and drinks.  You didn’t want to explain that Jimin was unemployed because he was a demon. 

“So, you’re Y/n’s guy?” Jimin nodded, reaching across the table for a handshake.  Seokjin meeting him in a firm greeting. 

“I’m Park Jimin, it’s a pleasure.’ You looked at him.  Park?  Did he decide that was going to be his surname?  It was popular, so you didn’t see the harm in his choice.  “You’re Seokjin, right? Y/n works with you and your mother.”  

Seokjin purses his lips in an impressive manner.  “You know me?” 

“Of course!  Y/n had talked about you and your mother quite a lot in the time I’ve known her.  She really enjoys working with you both.”  You thanked the staff member who placed your drinks and a basket of fries on the booth table as the two men talked back and forth.  You sipped at your drink, straw between your lips as you were actually impressed Jimin held such a casual conversation.  

You’ve been stressing over so much on what to do with Jimin when he was capable of dealing with all of it on his own.  He seemed to genuinely be trying to earn Seokjin’s favor for something.  Talking and acting so that Seokjin wouldn’t disapprove of him for some reason.  

He was acting so human.  Sweet and caring and kind.  He laughed at Seokjin’s stupid jokes you scoffed at and took interest in his favorite kind of pastries.  What to eat and where to eat it and told him about how he attended the same college as you and was set to graduate this year. 

Seokjin excused himself for a moment to go to the bathroom when Jimin sat back in his booth and tossed half a fry into his mouth. 

“Human food is actually way better than I remember it being,” he said as he ate the second half of the fry.  

“Jimin?” He looked at you when you called him.  “You- are you enjoying yourself?” You were curious is that smile on his face was real or if it was all an act because he was a demon contracted to marry you.  He smiled softly as he grabbed your hand, setting it on his lap. 

“I told you that I was attached to you, do you remember?” You nodded.  He told you that when he first showed up.  “It’s not easy for something like that to occur for my species. I won’t put up a facade around you, so don’t worry, okay?” You lowered your eyes as you nodded.  He smiled, his teeth showing as his cheeks pushed up his eyes.  He moved to kiss your cheek as you pushed on his shoulder for the sudden act of affection.  He laughed at you as he tried kissing your other cheek, you erupting into a fit of laughter at him. 

Seokjin stood behind the booth against the wall, watching the two of you from a distance.  He smiled seeing you happy and how Jimin was a good guy after all.  Open and kind like you said.  He nodded to himself. 

“I guess I can approve of him,” he said to himself as he made his way back to the booth. Sliding in and fake gagging at the PDA of the young couple.  

-XXX-

It was two days later when your first workday since Seokjin met Jimin came.  Jimin was stubbornly driving you to work (where he learned to drive you didn’t know).  He even had a license that was legitimate and he wouldn’t tell you at all how he got it.  Part of you almost believed he lived as a human the past year just to get accustomed to this kind of lifestyle.  When you told him that, he looked at you like you uncovered some big secret.  Of course, there was no way that was right… right?

“So, why are you driving me to work again?” You asked him as your purse sat in your lap as you were decked in your black slacks, white shirt, and non-slip shoes.  Boring work attire. While he sat in black jeans, heeled boots to boost his height (he was almost self-conscious of it) and a white shirt with a yellow flannel over it.  Looking rudely attractive. 

“I met Seokjin, now I want to meet your boss!” He cheered as he pulled into the turn lane, stopping before getting the all-clear from those trust traffic lights to proceed onwards.  “Besides, dropping you off means I get to pick you up and isn’t that just a husbandly thing to do?” 

“You’re not my husband?” 

“Not yet.  Which reminds me, I guess we need to actually plan a wedding?” 

“Yeah, with what money,” you scoffed.  

“Well, how about a courthouse wedding?  It’s way cheaper and way simpler.  Just dress in your Sunday best, show up with family and close friends only.  Get preached to, sign a paper, take some pictures and we walk out husband and wife,” he suggested with a small smile.  

Honestly speaking, a courthouse wedding didn’t sound too awful.  You wouldn’t need to get completely gussied up if you didn’t want to and it wouldn’t be some entire day deal.  A few hours and it would be done.  Plus it would be a life-saving act for your funds.  

“You don’t need to think about it right now,” Jimin interrupted your thoughts.  He reached across the middle console and grabbed your hand that rested on your bag.  He bounced it up and down in his palm as he ran his thumb over your knuckles.  “I’m not going anywhere, so take your time to think it over for yourself.  Be it for 3 months or 3 years, I’ll always be here.”  You nodded at him, missing the side look he gave you when your cheeks start glowing again. “Cute.” 

Your boss cried in joy as you entered the still unopened cafe with Jimin in tow, his hands in yours.  You watched her bounce around the counter and prance up to you both as Seokjin rounded the corner, a ziplock bag of frozen strawberries in his hand that was due to dethaw in some hot water in the back.  

“Oh, lover boy’s here,” he announced.  Jimin bowed to your boss as he introduced himself with a smile.  You told her that Jimin was the man who proposed to you and was the man you were soon going to marry.  

“My word, he’s stunning!  You’re a lucky woman, Y/n.”  You laughed at her excitement as Jimin disagreed. 

“No way! Y/n is way out of my league. If anything I'm the lucky one here!” He exclaimed and it sounded like he meant it.  That this wasn't all just a contracted marriage between human and demon. “I’m just happy I met her in the first place, now I get to marry her.  I’m definitely the luckiest.” He, finalized, your boss swooning at him as her own cheeks reddened. 

“You’re so fond.  I do hope you both make each other happy.”  Jimin nodded as he checked the watch on his wrist.  He nudged you lightly, gesturing to the time.  You squeaked as you unconsciously pecked him on the cheek and rushed behind the counter and into the back to clock in and strap on your apron.  Jimin chuckled at you as your boss stood around longer.  “Y/n is such a sweetheart,” she cooed.  

“Yes, she is,” Jimin agreed.  “She’s gone through a lot over her life, but I’m truly grateful that she somehow ended up at my side.” He bent down to get closer to the older woman and smiled at her, you on his brain.  “I’m going to make her happy for sure! But, I don’t actually know her favorite kind of pastry.  You don’t happen to know, do you?” 

“I do!  If you offer her one of my son’s cream puffs, she’s absolute putty in your hands' young man.” Jimin nodded.  

“Thank you very much!” He cheered.  He knew a lot about you, but not everything.  He desired to learn everything he could.  When he learned another fact about you or saw you smile or fumble around in a spaz, he could feel that attachment in his chest tighten.  The sensation was nameless and addicting.

-XXX-

It’s been 4 months since Jimin showed up declaring himself as your betrothed. Since then, he somehow managed to get a job as a receptionist at a small little spa not too far downtown.  With his looks as well as his sweet human personality, he was a catch.  You wondered how he ever qualified for any jobs at all with him being a demon prior to everything.  He flat out told you he lied and created fake documents of education and even past experience that you were 100% sure he didn’t have. 

You had to admit that you admired his studious attitude when it came down to his work though.  His ethic and willingness to learn and be trained so diligently was shocking for a demon.  He read on spa therapies from skincare to massages to manicures and pedicures.  From fact to fiction and when it came time to work on his own without a trainer, he did incredibly well.  

As a demon, he seemed to genuinely enjoy his work.  Plus, he often offers you shoulder massages when you're working it double-time between work and school.  You were probably the most grateful for that.  

His kindness continued to baffle you.  Even after all these months, the way he smiled and joked and actually seemed to care about the world around you didn’t make him seem like a demon at all.  You would often forget he wasn’t human, his origins slipping your mindscape until he would return to his grey-skinned, horned and clawed self. You remember him asking you if his real appearance ever bothered you. 

“Hey, Y/n?” Jimin had just walked into the apartment from work as you sat cross-legged on the floor in front of your coffee table in the living room.  Textbooks open and bookmarked, notebooks scribbled in and small doodles taking up space in any open corner when your concentration drifted off. You hummed at him as he moved to sit on the couch behind your back.  “You don’t mind if I look like a demon when I’m inside, do you?” 

You stopped your notes as you put your pencil down in the fold of the pages and turned at your hips to look at him behind you. 

“Do I mind if you look like a demon?”  He nodded.  “Jimin why would you care if I care if you look like that?” He was still in his human appearance as he looked almost timid.  Not making eye contact and looking worried like you would reject him if he looked devilish. 

“I just- I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”  Jimin is by far the most respectable demon you’ve ever met (even though he’s the only demon you’ve ever met). You rolled your eyes as you turned back to our notes, Jimin ready to complain when you finally answered him. 

“There’s no reason to be uncomfortable around you, human or demon.  It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you told him. “And it’s not like we’re on the ground floor, no one will see you from outside, just don’t go out on the balcony like that.” You looked outside the two tall, sliding glass doors to your small balcony on the 3rd floor.  “Besides, you’re pretty charming as a demon,” you tacked on.  You were scribbling more notes down, looking back and forth between your textbook and notes to make sure you were writing in the lines in legible writing.  

You felt Jimin moving behind you as he soon moved to slide off the couch to sit beside you.  He put his head on the table, looking at you with his grey skin and small spiraled horns pointing outwards away from his forehead. He smiled up at you as you moved to look down at him, his fangs as white as ever. 

“So, I’m charming?” His tail whipped around behind him as you just scoffed with a smile and went back to work.  He quickly sat up. “I learned this really cool massage trick at work, wanna see!” He offered as you stopped him from reaching out to touch you at all.  

“You will not attempt to massage anything with those hands. Last time you did, your stupid claws cut up my shoulders!”  

“I’ll shorten them then!” 

“What’s so funny?” Jimin, who sat across the middle console from you, asked.  You both were currently sat in your car, suitcases packed for the weekend on your way to your parent’s house.  After 4 months, they grew antsy on now actually meeting Jimin.  Despite talking to him on the phone or seeing him when you would video call your mother, an in-person meeting was well overdue. Jimin didn’t seem to mind, you were a bit worried though.  

You still weren’t sure how committed Jimin was in his role that 13-year-old you forced him in.  He’s easy to be with and he acts like the ever-charming fiance that he was, but that was all that you thought it was.  Him filling out his job and that made you nervous as you both got closer and closer to your destination.  Making your hands tighten on the steering wheel as you drove the roads most familiar to you. 

Jimin could smell your anxiety from a mile away, much less 2 feet apart in a confined space like your small car.  If you weren’t pressing your toe on the gas, he was sure you’d be bouncing your leg in anxiousness.  A habit he picked up on you did.  Instead, he watched your tighten and loosen just to retighten your hands around the steering wheel.  

He felt like he wasn’t doing enough.  He’s been beside you for 4 months and you still seemed distant in some ways.  You still didn’t feel comfortable enough for him to sleep next to you, so he was sleeping every night on your couch (at least it pulls out into a bed). He heard that you sometimes still had a choked throat each time you had to explain that he was engaged to you.  And you hadn’t brought up the topic of a wedding since the one day he talked to you about it when he took you to work for the first time. 

There was a lot of hesitation in your head and body it made him think he made possibly be doing something wrong. He knew that you were stuck in the thought that he was just working.  You were a job and that’s what you keep telling yourself, convincing yourself that you really didn’t matter to Jimin in the long run.  Despite him telling you time and time again that you were an attachment that was absolutely forbidden to him and his kind, you just couldn’t bring yourself to accept that.  

You, plain simple and uninteresting you.  You who waited two years for college and grew up alone.  You who had only started living alone in your 23rd year.  You who was so lonely as a child you summoned a demon just for someone to talk to and ended up bringing him into your small circle of loneliness.  

You were an anchor holding Jimin in place and you thought of that as a burden.  While that anchor that is you was something so important to Jimin.  He just had to figure out how to drill it into your head that you were a blessing to him.  Lucifer be damned, if you were an angel, he’d cut off his own horns and turn his back on his kind to be with you. 

He watched as you turned the car, hands overlapping on the wheel.  Bodies jostling on the road as the highway you drove on turned into the gravel of a backroad.  

“They're pretty far from town, a lot of open areas and not too much to do,” you started, talking a bit louder over the crunching and grumbling tires of your car going over the rock and gravel.  “But, we have a lot of land and a really neat garden and greenhouse my mom really likes to take care of.  I’m sure we can find something to do,” you told him.  

Jimin nodded.  He wasn’t worried.  If he was going to win you over, he’d have to start with the two who raised you. Winning your parents would be easy.  He had a feeling from the many conversations he had with your mother, that she wouldn’t be a hard obstacle.  Your father seemed a bit more skeptic. He had every reason to be, Jimin was a demon after all. 

“A city detox is good on a demon.  The fresh air so much better than breathing in all that city smog and smoke.  Plus, the country smells better.”  

“Yeah,” you laughed, “you have a point.”  The rest of the trip passed and soon you were pulling into your parent’s driveway, your mother who sat on the front porch, reading a book on the bench swing.  Setting it down, pages open and spine up, she stood as you turned off the car and waved to her from your windshield.

You couldn’t hear her, but she looked over her shoulder, shouting into the house that was behind her.  Presumably shouting to your father that you and your new fiance had finally arrived.  Jimin noticed you take your time unbuckling and working your way out of your car.  Getting out after you, he watched your mother descend the few steps of the old townhouse.  She was quick to hug you, embrace you returned with a smile. 

Jimin had briefly seen your mother before.  Whether it be from his routinely watches as a demon as you grew older, or through the crappy quality of your mother’s phone during a Skype call.  She was a familiar face nonetheless.  Just as he saw her, she was soon greeting him and waving him over from across the car. 

“Jimin, darling!”  She greeted enthusiastically.  Swooping the man into a hug he wasn’t expecting.  Patting her back lightly, she pulled away.  He truly wasn’t used to any physical contact aside from you. You were the only human he allowed to even come near him in so long.  Your mother examined jimin.  Tilting his chin up and down, walking around him and humming.  She was literally sizing him up and looking at every inch of him (not that there’s many). 

“Mom! Don’t be rude to my fiance!”  You screeched as she circled him like a hawk. You slapped your palm to your face when she turned to you with a small older woman giggle and a hearty thumbs up.  Like she approved of the demon you were going to wed.  Jimin laughed at both of your antics. 

“Let’s not dilly-dally.  Everyone inside, come on.”  Your mother rushed you both up to the steps, claiming to get your bags out of the trunk later on.  When Jimin entered, he found out how much the inside of your home looked so different in the daytime. The difference between your lit halls and the halls he knew when he visited at the dead of night was shocking to him. Then again, even as a demon, he never went and wandered around your house.  More like quick peeks here and there. 

You watched from the corner of your eyes at Jimin’s reaction to being in your home of 22 years in his human appearance.  He’s only ever been here as a demon.  It was obvious your mother had tidied up the best a mother could.  Probably also employing the help of your father for some tasks that were a bit more herculean.  The fact that the sofa had been moved in the living room was a dead give away for that.  

As awkward as the first fiance and parent meeting should be, it wasn’t at all.  Jimin slatted right in, sitting next to you on the couch.  When spoken to he’d listen well and managed to keep eye contact with your father.  Something he didn’t realize human men had problems with when meeting their significant other’s parents. He truly seemed engaged in all conversation and was all smiles and energy as he sat beside you.  His hand occasionally find yours to hold behind the cushion you held on your lap. 

The night, Jimin sat in the middle of your bed, legs crossed as you were in the bathroom changing.  Despite the time he’s seen your change (once he was sitting on the sink when you got out of the shower and got a look at the goods before you threw a hairdryer at him), you still grew embarrassed about changing with him boring holes into your back. 

He had relaxed his body.  His horns poking out of his head as his tail lay on the mattress.  His skin greyed out and claws extended.  When you entered the room, you let out a small shriek and slammed the door behind you, locking it.  You stomped across the room, pointing into his face. 

“You can’t just change back into a demon here!” Jimin nearly went cross eyes at your finger at his nose. 

“Why not?” He innocently asked, but the sly grin on his face gave away his teasing undertone.  You stood back up, arms crossed.  You huffed.  “Oh please, if anyone besides you came in, I’d just hide and let your parents believe I took a shower with you.” 

“That’s ridiculous!” 

“No, it’s not. Couples shower all the time together.” He cupped his chin in his palm as he watched your face flush.  Taking a shower with Jimin was completely out of the question.  For one, he’s a demon! Regardless of if you were going to end up with him as your husband or not, he was completely different and who knows what he’s packing.  His anatomy is obviously way different than yours, or another mans given his horns and tail.  

You shake your head, trying to disperse the thought of even beginning to imagine what or what isn’t hidden below his belt.  Jimin stood as you internally panicked and he hooked his finger under your chin, making your concentration break and force your attention on him. 

“It’s been 4 months, love,” he started.  “Yet, I’m still capable of making your blush like the dawn.” His fang peeked out of hips dark lips as he pulled them back into a grin.  His eyes lit up a lighter shade of red as the lights flicked out.  You looked up to the bowl covered ceiling light before Jimin pulled your eyes back to him.  “I’d appreciate it if you kept your eyes focused on me,” he bit.  

“Jimin?” He seemed more possessive than usual.  He was always someone who wanted attention, but at the moment he seemed more demanding for attention than usual.  He moved to bite onto the side of your cheek as you squeaked.  He let it go before he licked it.  

“I used up a lot of energy staying human all day.  I need to recharge.”  Jimin spent the next half hour lavishing you in kisses and holding you.  He’s done this before- becoming exhausted is something a demon needs treatment for when in the human realm. Whether it be human food, drink or affection.  Jimin would cling to you when it happened, unable to revert to his human form.  Jimin as his demon self would bask in your warmth until he grew better.  It was alright because his cold body kept your burning one in check throughout the whole process. 

-XXX-

After the weekend trip to your parents, you were relieved when both your mother and father decided not to veto Jimin- since they really couldn’t because of the contract.  Accepting him and your decision to marry him your mother was hot on the ‘when is the marriage’ bandwagon. 

Weeks later, Jimin had woken up before you had.  It was early in the morning as you slammed the top of your alarm clock to shut off the first- of many- signs to get up and ready for school. You had grown used to feeling the dip in your bed that Jimin claimed or at the very least having him looping his leg around yours. But, this morning it was empty.  

Sitting up, the sky had turned grey. Not yet allowing the colors of dawn to breach the black night sky.  Jimin not being seen by you in the bedroom, you rubbed your eyes before you crawled out of bed.  Wrapping your blanket around your shoulders as you left your room.  

He wasn’t in the bathroom- he was fond of early morning baths.  Not the kitchen and his shoes were still here so he hadn’t left.  You found him standing in front of the balcony window, just staring outside.  His barbed tail was hung low and his body seemed rigid as he stood like he was on edge.  Moving to his side, you saw him looking outside like he was looking at something he deemed dangerous. He hadn’t even realized you were beside him.  Looking at his hand, his claws were open and his fingers were tense like he was ready to tear through something. 

“Jimin?” You whispered as he blinked and swiveled to look down at you.  He saw your brow etched down and your small hands peeking out from under the blanket you held over your shoulders. “Are you alright?” You asked slowly as to not provoke anything out of him. 

“It’s nothing,” he told you before he looked back outside.  “I hope.” 

When you left for school, he was constantly texting you every half hour or sooner.  He was asking random questions, asking how you were- anything to get a conversation started.  You thought maybe he was feeling some sort of weird demon-y way; maybe they start to miss their attachments after a certain period of time.  You weren’t sure and every time you asked him about it, it brushed it off to changed the topic. 

Jimin called you the moment you told him you had left class and were on the way to work a swing shift at work.  Seokjin was busy studying for tests, so you had to pick up his slack; much to Jimin’s dismay. He stayed on the phone with you the entire ride to the cafe and refused to hang up until you had clocked on- even saying a quick hello to your boss before he hung up. 

Jimin was on edge all night.  He knew you were working, that you were busy but he couldn’t sit still.  Something he felt earlier that morning made his skin crawl.  A dark presence hung in the air in the city he had been living in as a human and he didn’t like how familiar it was.  

He beat himself up over not being able to convince you to stay in today.  Skipping one day of school wouldn’t be so hard to convince you of, but you would’ve fought him tooth and nail about work.  He knew that you were going in today no matter what, but now it was reaching nearly 10 PM and he was biting his nails. 

Being so tense that he couldn’t hold his human form and was stalking around the apartment fully demon.  Black and grey robe fluttering at his brisk steps back and forth, bare feet and black hands curling and uncurling.  His barbed tail whipped like a nail in annoyance as his fangs gnawed on his lips. 

He verbally hissed, his eyes glowing and narrowing in the dark apartment (he hadn’t turned the lights on since sunset).  He blended in with the dark and shadowed home of his when he heard rattled from the front door.  He moved to jump into the air, sticking to the top part of the wall above the front door.  Tucking his legs in to hide in the corner.  He snarled at the scent on the other side that was certainly not yours. Whoever was on the other side of that door, they weren’t some household company.  The scent he caught of them was too bloody. 

When the door unlatched, the clicking of the lock opening, Jimin bared his teeth.  When the door was opened and someone stepped inside, Jimin pushed from the ceiling’s corner and swung at the stranger.  Claws ready to tear into their skin, but even as fast as Jimin was- this person had moved just in time to avoid him.  Jimin skidded onto the floor, knees bent as he sat like a beast on attack mode.  

The door shut behind the intruder as Jimin used the darkness to stay hidden.  Only his eyes that burned red in the darkness could give him away.  Even so, they were so narrow in defense that seeing them would be difficult.  His ears twitched when he felt something come towards him, jumping back he heard a crash in front of him- where he was just sat.  

Whatever was in here was just like him- not human.  He looked to his left, his right and above him.  Nothing seemed off in the shadows.  Whoever was with him was no longer in front of him either.  He gasped lightly when he felt something directly behind him.  Finding himself in a back and forth scrap with something he couldn’t see became bothersome. 

He swung and hissed at what could only be another demon in his home.  Tail flicking, sending small thorns around him as a defense as he kept jumping from ceiling to floor to wall to avoid whatever was attacking him.  It came to a standstill when the attacker flicked the lights on.  Jimin flinched before he was jumping onto the coffee table away from a direct kick that could have knocked him right on his ass if he hadn’t moved fast enough. 

The apartment was a mess.  Cracks and scratch marks on the floors and tears in the living room furniture.  Curtains from the balcony windows were torn and hanging on just barely to their rods. Jimin hissed, his hair seemed to stand on end as he stared at the attacker in front of him.  Stood in a black cloak, hood pulled up and concealing their entire face.  

The human colored tone of his skin that showed in his hand that was freely sticking out from the sleeve of the robe gave away that whatever demon he was dealing with wasn’t so powerful they could shift properly yet.  Why would a demon who attacked another demon have human skin on, unless they couldn’t revert due to power struggles? 

Jimin remained sat on the table, legs up and ready to move if the need arose as the hooded demon in front of him remained still.  It was as if there were two statues in your living room and not too demons.  Finally, the hooded attacker moved to reach into his cloak, Jimin baring his teeth at the movement.  His face fell for a moment, his mouth opening with a drawn-out gasp when the hooded demon pulled from his cloak a black ring.  

Jimin’s black ring.  Your black ring.  

Instinctively, he flicked his tail once again, thorns shooting at the hooded demon.  “Where is she,” Jimin demanded in a growl.  His voice coming out in layers, like a distorted evil.  The hooded demon placed the ring back into his cloak. “That belongs to me!” He screeched, ready to tackle and possibly tear out the demon’s throat until they tossed their hood off their head.  His face was painted in instant anguish seeing someone he knew so well in front of him.  “J-Jungkook?” 

“I’d recommend not trying anything stupid, Jimin,”  Jungkook spoke as his face was as static as a TV screen.  Jimin was speechless, seeing off all demons possible his brother.  Jungkook and Jimin had grown up as demon’s together.  They weren’t related by any standard, but they were brothers of another kind.  Why did Jungkook have your ring, and why was he here?  Did he track Jimin down, if so why?  Jimin blinked as he looked down, running question after question in his head until Jungkook moved.  Jimin, flicked his head back up, seeing Jungkook pull something from the sleeves of his robe like a magic trick.  

Throwing it at Jimin, the horned demon caught it easily.  A scroll was tossed at him.  Jimin carefully held it, his claws threatening to puncture or tear the paper. 

“Burn it,” Jungkook spoke.  His voice was cold.  Jimin shook his head. 

“What?” Jimin looked at the scroll and how took in how warm it felt resting in his hand.  “What is this, Jungkook?” 

“Your contract with that human.”  Jimin looked at it.  The tied scroll was his contract with you.  “You’ve already broken and defied enough rules.  Coming to the human world and spending your time with a human woman, how can you stomach it all.”  Jungkook’s distaste for humans was overwhelming and Jimin could feel his hate roll off him in electric waves. 

“This has nothing to do with you,” Jimin told him.  Finally standing up and stepping off the table, Jimin held the scroll at his side, gripping it tightly.  Protectively keeping the scroll at his side with no intentions of burning it at all.  

“If you burn that scroll,” Jungkook started, pointing at it, “I’ll return the human here and you’ll return to your duties after your trial.  You won’t go unpunished for getting attached to something of this world.”  Jimin’s calmed face immediately flared back up in anger, moving in a swift step to grab Jungkook’s color.  He growled into his brother’s face.  

“Where the fuck did you take her,” Jimin seethed.  He asked no questions, only making demands.  Jungkook gripped Jimin’s wrist that held him around the collar, the two shaking with how much anger was in their veins.  For two very different reasons.  “Where is Y/n.  Tell me, Jungkook!”  He screamed, fangs growing as Jungkook’s eyes shifted to violet as Jimin’s wrist began to burn.  

Jungkook was a demon on toxins.  

Poison laced his blood allowing him to create poison at any given time from any part of his body he wished.  Jimin didn’t flinch even when his demon flesh burned under a dim green light that came from Jungkook’s hand.  Jimin shoved his brother back, examining his wrist.  Grey was shriveled up and charred only for a moment before JImin’s healing kicked in and his flesh began to reknit and become once more flawless. 

The two brothers stood glaring at each other.  Jungkook was angry at Jimin’s choices and Jimin livid at Y/n’s apparent kidnap. 

“I won’t ask again, Jungkook.  Where did you-” 

“Just forget about the human!”  Jungkook finally broke his static facade and twisted his face in anger, shouting at Jimin.  “Forget the human, return to being a demon and burn your contract with her.  I’ve already retrieved your ring and I’ll begin whipping her memory as well.”  

“What?!” 

Jungkook creased his brow.  “What’s that look. You look angry. You can’t care about humans, they’re just a past time.  So what if that human forgets you, just let it go and return with me back home.”  

“This is my home and you’re invading and stealing it away from me.”  Jimin seethed, his voice as toxic as Jungkook’s skin.  

“This is no home for a demon!”  

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jimin said voice calm in anger.  He shook his head, getting overloaded with too many emotions at once.  Claws and fangs growing longers and eyes flickering with unstable reds that bled out of the iris into his scleras.  Wind of his own began whipping around him, fluttering his silk demonic robes and his black hair.  His horns spiraled higher out of his forehead, growing as his tail grew longer and wrapped around his waist like a belt of thorns.  His grey skin began to completely blacken like his hands and feet.  

Jungkook took a small step backward.  He hadn’t seen his brother like this but once when Jungkook was the victim of some stupid social hierarchy demonic bullshit.  Jimin tore his tormentors apart and if Jungkook wasn’t careful, Jimin seemed like he wouldn’t hesitate to tear him apart next.  

He hadn’t changed in size, but when he stepped up to Jungkook and moved quick enough to clasp his hand around his brother’s throat, he seemed as high as a 50-ft building Jungkook was going to be dropped off of.  Jimin’s tongue was that of a snake, split at the end and his breath was visible as he forced Jungkook to take him to you.  

If Jungkook didn’t want to die, he’d listen to his older brother.  It was his own fault if he died tonight. 

-XXX-

You groaned and shivered before coughing.  You opened your eyes, confused as to when you fell asleep in the first place.  Flinching, you hissed in pain from the stinging on the side of your head.  Touching above your ear, you felt something wet that had matted your hair.  Pulling on it, you hissed again in pain.  Sitting up from your laying position on what felt like a wooden floor, you gasped when your head hit something above you. 

Reaching up, you felt nothing but wood above you too.  Starting to panic, you felt around you.  Nothing but wood on every side.  Above, left, right and below.  However, in front of you wasn’t wood, but instead iron bars.  It was dark in what you could only assume was the cage you found yourself waking up in.  Having no idea what was going on, you gasped when a cloth was ripping off the box, squeezing your eyes shut at the sudden light.  

You screamed, scurrying back to the back of your caged box from the face of a dog in front of the iron bars.  It wasn’t just a dog.  It had 4 pairs of eyes, completely black as it’s tail behind it was split into to.  Its teeth pushed past its chops like a sabertooth and its size was far above what a normal K9’s would be.  It was purely demonic.  

Demonic.  Then it all came back to you.  

Someone had suddenly collapsed outside of your work when you had just left.  Worried, you approached them and knelt to offer any kind of assistance.  Pulling out your phone to call the police or ambulance or whatever they needed, you squeaked when they suddenly grabbed your wrist.  They held your hand to their face.  They seemed to be examining your ring. 

“What a pleasant looking ring,” they slurred.  Their voice sounded of uncomfortable ringing.  

“My- uh, my fiance gave me this ring,” you whispered.  

“Fiance, huh?” You saw a smile grow on the person’s face. Something was wrong.  You yanked your hand, trying to free yourself before the person tightening their grip.  You yelped as your wrist began to burn.  Falling from your kneeling position to crumbling on your knees, you whined.  Looking up with tear blurred eyes, you gasped at the violet glow of the man’s eyes. 

“You’re a demon?” You saw his fangs in the wide, sick grin of his. 

“Correct,” he slurred before he hit you aside from the head and next you knew, you were in this cage.  

You breathed quick shallow breaths, demon dog growling at you and barking.  Making you pull your knees to yourself as much as you could.  Tucking yourself into the corner of your prison. 

You held your hands to your chest when you noticed you weren’t wearing Jimin’s ring.  You gasped, as a tear left your eye.  

“No,” you gasped lightly.  Looking around your cage and feeling around for that familiar metal you couldn’t remove.  Did that demon take it off you?  You couldn’t take it off, only a demon could.  You sputtered as you coughed again, working yourself up too much.  

You sat against the back of your cage when the demon dog’s attention shifted from you to something behind him for a moment before being grabbed from its scruff.  The demon dog whined and yelped as it was tossed aside and suddenly a loud crash sound from around you.  You didn't know what was going on, screaming and holding above your head just in case something crashed through your cage.  

Looking through the cage, you saw someone thrown onto the ground.  It was that demon you found outside that kidnapped you.  You were ready to start screaming at him, putting on a tough front of insults while you shook and hid your fear from him.  Demon’s enjoyed the thrill of fear, so you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. 

You stopped yourself though.  He looked beaten all to hell.  Throat punctured and rolls of blood pulsing out of his skin as he held around his neck and gasped.  He lay on his back, weakly attempting to keep pushing himself back and away from something.  You couldn’t see what he was so afraid of until it came into full view.  

It was like a black cloud of absolute evil.  It made your throat dry and sweat drip down your neck.  Something in that cloud was nothing short of the devil himself.  Pure black and growling, thorns around it and stalking the demon on the ground like a high predator.  Though it was demonic, you couldn’t help but think it was familiar. 

The demon’s tail flicked around his waist, pinning your abductor to the concrete floors- thorns as tough as metal as the concrete split like it was nothing.  Another step encroached on the kidnapping demon and you called out to it. The faded memories that were almost wiped clean restored in a clean swipe and burst of your voice.

“Jimin..!”  It was a weak call, that fizzled into a cough.  The black cloud of moved to snap it’s head around to see you.  Imprisoned in a small cage.  You crawled to the iron bars and reached out towards it, trying to grasp something of his.  The cloud moved and before you knew it, it was knelt at your bars, as you felt the black cloud wiz through your skin like mist.  The pure red eyes and more intimidating persona did nothing to hide the familiarity of Jimin you knew was under there.  “Do you recognize me?”  

You’d never seen him like this before.  He looked absolutely feral, but it was till Jimin and when he moved to grab your hand in his overly demonic one, you just smiled.  He knew who you were. 

“Y/n,” his voice was deep and two-toned like there were two people talking in unison.  “You are alright,” he seemed to sigh and calm down.  The black cloud began to fade like fog and his body began to revert back.  Horns and claws and fangs shrinking, his pitch skin dulling back into its grey, reeling back to only his hands and feet.  You watched his eyes revert back to their oval red in the iris only.  “Do you- do you remember who I am?” 

His eyes were downcast as he held your hand, voice shaky. You felt your chest burn as tears dripped from his eyes.  He let go of your hand to grab the iron bars that held you and ripped them clean out, throwing it aside with an ear-piercing echo of metal on the concrete floor.  

He pulled you from your cage as he fell to the floor.  You sat in front of him.  His head fell, ducking down to your stomach as he wept, holding onto your hand with enough grief to last him the rest of his prolonged lifetime.  You shed your own tears, laying over his back, basking in the presence of each other.  

You gasped when you noticed a shadow over Jimin’s back.  There stood your kidnapper, Jungkook and a knife of amethyst in his hand.  He was ready and willing to stab his brother in the back and you couldn’t get a word out of your mouth, his eyes of violet canceling your voice.  You tried pulling your hand from Jimin’s so you could shield him perhaps, but Jimin refused to release it.  

Swing his arm down aiming for his brother’s back, you couldn’t even scream.  Jimin remained motionless as his tears had stopped and he remained hunched over in your arms.  He had known his brother well and he knew that if Jungkook couldn’t bring him back, he’d settle for killing him. It wouldn’t work, however; Jimin was too smart and Jungkook too reckless.  

That’s how everything resulted in Jimin’s tail whipping at Jungkook’s arm and having him plunge the knife into his own stomach. You gasped when you saw the black blood pour over his lips as he fell to his knees behind his brother.  Jimin sat up, letting you go before he moved to kneel in front of his dying brother.  

“You killed yourself, Jungkook,” Jimin told him.  Searching around his robe for his ring that he had taken back into his possession. “You died for nothing.  I will not return and I will stay by Y/n until my life ends.  I will convert into a human if I must.  I will not leave her.”  He lowered his eyes, looking solemnly at his fallen brother he did love once.  “I love her too much,” he whispered in nothing short of pain. 

Jungkook’s last emotions before he died were nothing but hate.  Hate towards Jimin for falling for a human, for becoming attached to anything.  Hate towards you for bewitching his brother into something that was no longer selfish and instead selfless.  Hate towards himself for letting himself die as a result of attempting to kill his brother who had protected and raised him for centuries.  He hated and he hated until he turned to dust and vanished.  

Jimin looked over his shoulder at you. You looked confused and scared, as you should be- you were only human.  He looked at the rin in his palm before he put it in his pocket and helped you to stand weakly.  He held you to his chest, your knees not as strong as you wanted them to be.  

“Let’s go home,” he told you, wrapping you in his robe before he dissolved into the shadows, the lights of the concrete room he was in bursting and the light vanishes.  You were home before you knew it and Jimin was sitting you on your torn couch.  “Jungkook came here,” Jimin started as he sat on the ground in front of you.  “I’m so sorry you had to go through that,” he choked.  

His lips felt chapped and stung, his breathing heavy and harsh.  

“I’ve contemplated leaving.” He pulled the scroll Jungkook gave to him and set it on your lap.  “That is the contact you formed with me,” you looked at it, holding it in your hands.  It felt heavy, like the burdens of a 13-year-old girl who was lonely and just wanted someone to be with her.  “I’ll let you make the decision.  Y/n, you can burn that scroll.  Tear it up and throw it out along with me- remove all the demonic pieces of your life I brought.  Or, you can choose to allow me to stay.” 

You sighed as you set the scroll aside, placing it on the couch cushions.  You grabbed Jimin by his horns and tilted his head up, shoving it with a bit too much force as his neck pinched.  You then picked the scroll back up and shoved it into his face.  

“You’re a demon of trades, right. Well, I’m making a trade right now,” you told him.  “I’ll give you back this scroll, the contract I made with you when I was just a kid.  In return, you give me back my damn engagement ring.”  Jimin blinked up at you.  

“What?” 

“Park Jimin, if you don’t become my husband like you promised and after you got me all wrapped around your demonic little finger, I’m going to be seriously pissed.”  You set the scroll on his head, his horns holding it up like a rack as he huffed and took it off his head into his hands again.  The warmth bringing him comfort.  “That’s my promise in your hands, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t take your wife’s promise for granted.” 

Jimin tossed the scroll aside, reach up to grab the back of your neck and pull you down to meet his lips.  He breathed through his nose choppy breaths as he kept kissing you, sobbing almost as the relief of you allowing him to stay made him feel like he could float.  He felt more like a blessed angel than an engaged demon.  

Pulling away from you, he placed his ring back on your finger where it belongs.  The weight of its return made you sigh in content.  Jimin could feel his connection with it and you return and it was stronger than it was before.  

“You do know that I’m agreeing to this because I love you, right?” You asked.  You didn’t want him to get the wrong impression.  The situation was terrifying, there was no sugar coating that.  Not to mention the knot on your head from when Jungkook hit you wouldn’t be healing any time soon.  But, that didn’t make you fear JImin or the consequences of who he was to you.  You needed him to know you choose to do this because it’s what you want, not what you fear.  

“Say, do you know what a bride of a demon is called?” Jimin asked as he moved to stand in front of your on the couch.  Leaning down to cage you to your spot with his arms on the back of the couch behind you.  You rose your brow.  “A demoness,” he slurred with a smirk.  Avoiding your question entirely as you frowned.  

“Someones getting better at dodging questions,” you accused.  

“Your human is rubbing off on me.” 

“Well, your demon is rubbing off on me!”  You retorted before he plopped himself down on your lap, trapping you entirely as his tail wrapping around your leg in his familiar, endearing habit.  

“I love you too, my little human taboo.” Your wedding was 2 months later as your demon husband-to-be stood waiting for you at the small courthouse alter. 

-END-

(tell me what you thought of this pls ily)

[artificialqueens]

All The Qualities of a Winner (Rotox/Detoxxxy) - Dvious

a/n: i went into s5 totally expecting to love jinkx the most - and i did! but i also couldn’t help but sympathize with all of roxxxy’s insecurities and the unfortunate way they expressed themselves, and 2/3 of rolaskatox being all over each other constantly was ridiculous and adorable so i had to produce something about it…

she has all the qualities of a winner, she thinks. for example, she doesn’t want anything sentimental to come up in this competition, anything that reminds her of home.

roxxxy andrews doesn’t need a security blanket. this is a competition, after all, and while she’d expected to recognize some of her fellow competitors, she had no interest in anything that would distract her from showing her best, and showing everyone else up in the process. so it feels a little scary when the two of them so easily fall back into their old patterns, because it looks like vulnerability, like each of them have an achilles heel.

not scary enough for her to stop, though. not scary enough for her to move when they’re squeezed together on couches or at tables, and not scary enough for her to pull her hand away when detox reaches out to grab it.

the night of the very first runway, there are way too many girls for them all to sit comfortably in the lounge. roxxxy catches the scent of mugler perfume and feels the back of the couch sink down behind her, but she doesn’t turn to see who it is.

she already knows.

.

it’s not like her to doubt herself this way.

ask any of the girls back home, any of the girls she’s competed against in pageantry. roxxxy knows she’s a winner, or at least she tells herself she does, and maybe it’s the newness of everything here - but she’s never felt quite this shaken. it manifests itself in the way her lips purse distastefully whenever jinkx is contouring, the way she nervously babbles her way through confessionals with the main goal of cramming as many reads as she can into two minutes.

so when detox showers her with compliment after compliment in the lounge and roxxxy virtually melts into her chair, she tells herself it’s because she just needed some good old-fashioned praise. she craves validation, but it always seems to come with a side of genuine criticism on the runway. it’s fine, she expected it, she wants to say it’s making her better but instead it makes her vitriolic and confused.

maybe it’s good, then, that she’s been hooked up to a constant iv-drip of bitch you look fucking sickening, sickeningly gorgeous 24/7. she never feels glowing until she’s told she is.

detox tells her she is glowing unceasingly, and roxxxy repeats those words to herself the same way jinkx whispers her mantra onstage. except roxxxy says it in her head, so that she can feel like she needs it less.

.

she prides herself on her independence.

this is a competition, after all. she’s not here to rely on crutches to get her to the top. in her heart of hearts, she knows that once rolaskatox gets to the top three (and they will, of course), things will change. but for now - when there’s so many of them and she can coast through - it’s easy. she’s getting more used to things, and she’s pretty sure she’s getting better by the week. alaska looks down and purses her lips whenever the judges mention cliques, but roxxxy stares straight ahead, willfully content in their little trio. 

i just don’t want to lay it on so thick in front of the judges, y'know, alaska tells them in the workroom. they both agree. but it’s reflexive, detox just won, is roxxxy not supposed to congratulate her? she can see michelle’s eyes flicker over to the way they’re holding one another at the back of the stage, but so what? they’re friends congratulating one another on a job well done, on earning another week to show everyone what they can do…

they start to walk up onstage to congratulate coco for winning the lip sync, and when the two of them inevitably separate, roxxxy’s fingers hook in the mesh of the other queen’s dress. she pulls on it reflexively, and then half-shouts something brash and nonchalant, to make herself look less desperate. but her words are wasted; detox must have some kind of touch-starvation sixth sense and she loops their arms together again. and roxxxy’s smile returns easily to her face again just in time for a camera pan.

by the final three, she won’t need this, roxxxy thinks. she’ll be on her own, in the center of the stage, a crown on her head.

.

as a rule, roxxxy loves crowds.

there’s really nothing like strutting your stuff in a sequinsed gown to the roar of an auditorium filled with adoring fans. or lip syncing to the perfect j.lo song with a backdrop of cheering and clapping. a silent crowd, however - staring up at her as she shuffles her notes and tries to roast the straight-faced panel - is another thing entirely. as she steps to the side she takes solace in the fact that she at least was second to go, so they really won’t remember how bad she was. hell, all the other girls had at least one or two sullen responses from the crowd. she’s good to go, probably. it’s still a disgusting feeling, having everyone look at her like that in silence and reading her own failure in their eyes. 

but even if she doesn’t feel as confident as usual it’s important to project confidence, which is why she’s so nonchalant in the lounge when they talk about their childhoods. she’s not about to give a sob story to everyone; the point of her explanation is to get it over with as quickly as possible so that everyone thinks about how impressive it is that she’s gotten over it so well. roxxxy presses her fingertips into the jewels of her ring, over and over again, leaving imprints on her skin and wondering why she’s so resistant to the spotlight tonight when she’s normally out to steal it. 

she is in the bottom two for the first time, against the consummate performer of the season, the pageant girl with spice. she thinks she turned it out, but she really doesn’t know because she could hardly see alyssa through the hair they were both whipping around. here she is, in front of a much smaller crowd, but this time she’s finding out how badly she failed instead of whether she’ll be first place or runner-up. her throat feels tight with shame and when rupaul asks her what’s wrong, she fumbles her way through a response twice until before she knows it she’s sobbing - which is so ridiculous to do on a runway of all places and she wants to curl up and hide and never let anyone see her ever again.

she regains her composure, kind of, because that’s what she does. she prepares herself to give a gracious smile, in preparation for when alyssa will be told to stay, but the moment never comes. she gets to stay, too, and when she bursts into tears alyssa is the first one to make it to her for a hug. she feels detox pulling her close and kissing her hair clumsily (god that lip gloss will be hard to get out) and then the wave of everyone else’s arms around them. she feels hidden. protected. 

she feels enveloped in a crowd, unseen but a spectacle at the same time, safe.

.

competition is where roxxxy thrives.

hell, she’s based her entire career on voluntarily competing and being judged and being the best. she thinks of it as her forte - a place where everything else falls away and, ideally, she is rewarded with recognition for all the work she’s done. it’s not a competition about being yourself, roxxxy thinks sourly when jinkx says she’s made it this far because she’s true to herself. it’s a competition about being the best. so what if jinkx is good at comedy, and acting, and singing, and being charismatic, and all of that stuff. drag is about sewing and makeup and looking untouchably fierce and having a presence. roxxxy repeats this internal monologue to herself at least ten times a day. she eats licorice strings and fumes and glares at her dress form. no matter how many times she tries to read jinkx to filth, she comes away feeling worse. it makes absolutely no sense to her. 

she troubleshoots the sewing machine once every ten minutes or so for detox, and spends the entire time shooting shady comments in jinkx’s direction. the redhead won’t say anything to them anymore, painting on her contour in the mirror with a face of stony focus. roxxxy’s fingertips tingle with a combination of fear and anticipation. rolaskatox top three! she yells over her shoulder as they leave the workroom for the runway, but it sounds more like she’s trying to convince herself than celebrate. 

even through the lip sync she fiddles with the licorice strings, telling herself she’ll be so happy when rupaul announces detox is staying and she can relax. in fact, by the time rupaul gives jinkx her spot in the final three, roxxxy is so shocked that even when her lips start trembling and her brow furrows she refuses to believe it. her pageant smile returns reflexively as they quickly swarm the stage for a goodbye hug before the producers corral them away; she catches the scent of mugler perfume again. she thinks it starts with an a. angel or alien or awesome or something. it’s perfect. it makes her throat feel tight and her eyes sting with unshed tears.

she watches the last swish of chiffon disappear backstage. a licorice string has fallen off her dress and lays at her feet. she is in the top three; she is a finalist; she has almost proven that she is good enough to win. 

roxxxy beams at the judges. she feels a little empty, a little hollow, like a piece of her has been removed.

.

this is where she’ll show her very best.

now is the time to prove that she really does deserve to be here, that rolaskatox is as sickening apart as they were together; time to pull out her sparkliest gowns and her tightest corsets.

instead, as she reads her note from detox, something ugly and vindictive bubbles inside her. jinkx’s presence doesn’t fit here; her spot should have gone to someone else, someone more deserving and neon and angrier. everything that comes out of roxxxy’s mouth is dripping with venom, some of it even directed towards alaska. she smirks and taunts her way through the workroom on those last few days, feeling less focused than ever. she spends the majority of their final challenge trying to get herself to do not as well as she can do, but just better than everyone else. all the while she sulks in her head about how of course their final challenge is some comedy acting thing where it doesn’t matter that her contour is more snatched than jinkx’s or that the wig looks better on her than alaska. she can’t judge herself by this yardstick, not when the other two are better than her.

she thinks she brings it for the runway, at least, except when she has to give her speech. compared to jinkx it sounds far too pageanty (more polished? she hopes desperately) and compared to alaska it sounds far less funny (more professional? she thinks, grasping for something there). it sounds like herself, she thinks.

she wishes she could take it less seriously. in roxxxy’s mind, jinkx has been coasting, how can you take comedy seriously? she can’t fit the pieces together in her head to understand and she’s done trying. all she can repeat to herself over and over is that, well, she takes it seriously, drag is serious to her, she’s better, she’s good at it, she has to be.

.

in the weeks following, she feels a different kind of shame.

the embarrassment of watching herself try so hard to fuck over someone else is enough to make her shy away from any type of stage for a while. but the reunion and crowning is coming up anyways, and even if roxxxy’s pretty sure she won’t be standing there basking in the glory of being a drag superstar, she still has to sit there on stage and hear the results.

and they’re what she expected; and her smile flickers to life right on cue; and it still hurts so badly, as much as if rupaul looked her in the eye and personally told her you are simply not as worthy as everyone else.

confetti rains from the ceiling. she doesn’t feel the burning resentment that she did when she’d last seen jinkx, but she doesn’t feel any better like this, either. at the afterparty she spends a lot of time taking shots with alaska, the two of them so boxed in by the crowd that they can’t move from the bar (not like either of them are complaining). when roxxxy finally extricates herself, she has no issue finding the person she wants. it’s an unusual subversion, seeing the most colorful person in the room appear in black and white. 

hi honey, detox says, you look so pretty, and slips her arm around roxxxy’s waist. roxxxy is far too proud to ask for comfort. instead she says ohmymgod you look friggin’ insane, which doesn’t sound like the compliment she meant it to be, but it’s okay. her intention was there, and understood; and she is here, and understood, and roxxxy laces their hands together. they have their drinks and they look fucking great, and they’re together, and that’s really all she could have asked for.

she smells that perfume again, leans in close and lets the waves of praise encircle her, give her solace.

she is enough.

.