#the tags are an entirely different entity than the post

[gyuswhore]

Hits Different (...'cause it's you) (1)

«« I trace the evidence, make it make some sense Why the wound is still bleedin' »»

PAIRING: kim mingyu x reader

SYNOPSIS: Kim Mingyu was the first friend your brother had brought home for dinner. Fast forward a couple years, his toothy smile and pierced ears would wedge their way into a permanent place in your heart. Nail to a coffin, never to escape.

or;

in which you get rejected by the only boy you've ever loved; a rejection you can't quite shake off.

GENRES: based off of 'Hits Different' by Taylor Swift, brother's best friend!au, brother!seokmin, fluff, angst, smut (in part 2) [MINORS DNI], friends(?) to lovers, university!au.

PLAYLIST: right here!

WORD COUNT (full fic): 40k (im actually embarrassed)

Part 1: 20.2k | Part 2: 20k

masterlist

WARNINGS : slowburn, angst, fluff, mingyus a bit of an airhead and an ass, reader has a hard time managing her feelings, lots of frustrated tears, one sided pining, user toruro x minghao make an appearance, swearing, there's another woman (gasp,,,,,but shes cool so), Nayeon is a darling, Seungcheol is kinda annoying here but we love him, smut tags in part 2

(Comments from @toruro): "oh shizzle", "yeah bitch", (on jihyo) "mother", "ME X HAO FIRE EMOJI", "men (derogatory)"

[A/N]: Tumblr is annoying and won't let me post the entire 40k in one go so i have to break it up (part 2 is out tomorrow!!!) i hope you guys enjoy this, thank you for all the love on the teaser, i hope this is able to live up to the hype, thank you so much for being patient with me <33 (ty @toruro for encouraging me when i felt shit ab this gkjnrgvkjrng and beta-ing ofc)

As someone who could vomit at the mere thought of throw-up, you tried not to stare into the toilet bowl as you emptied your guts in this questionable club bathroom. 

It was proving to be easier than you’d anticipated, naturally, when your eyes were blurred with bubbling tears. Were they because of your wretching or the feelings that churned in your heart? You can’t be entirely sure, nor can you find yourself having the mental strength to figure out. There’s a banging on the door behind you, one that sends your already aching head into a hurling spin. 

“Open the door, I have water for you, it’ll help!” You hear Mika blare from the other side, concern lacing her voice. 

You try to blink the tears away but they cascade down your cheek anyway, rubbing at them furiously before preparing to haul yourself off the disgusting bathroom floor. Taking a deep breath was a horrible idea, you realize when an atrocious mixture of scents hit your nostrils, cringing visibly. 

Washing your hands at the sink took you another five minutes, scrubbing furiously at your palms and nails with the dollar store soap the club graciously placed in a fancy dispenser, pumping more than a normal amount to rid yourself of the paranoia of tainted hands. 

Unfortunately for you, your palms were tainted with entities beyond mere soap and water’s powers. 

It was evident with the way you exited the bathroom feeling perhaps worse than you went in. Mika was nowhere to be seen in the hall, moving along to the private room where the rest of the group was to find her springing up as you enter. 

“You weren’t answering, so I left. Here, water, I told you to be careful with what you drink; you haven’t had a bite to eat either.” She reprimands. 

“Sorry,” you smile sheepishly, not having a reasonable excuse to give her. 

Joshua peeks over her shoulder, “You feeling any better?” 

The water is slow to go down as you sputter before replying in a hoarse voice, “Yeah. Way.” 

To be fair, the water did help. But it was you who was the problem, blaming the alcohol for the behaviour all your friends knew perfectly well where it was stemming from. Not a word was said though, for your sake or their own. You wrap up quickly after that, Joshua insisting to drop you off home himself, quoting how Seokmin would have his head if he left you in the hands of a taxi driver in this state — age gap be damned. You can only thank him as he pulls up to your destination, hoping you’ll remember this in the morning to return the favour in the future. 

“Before you go, can we talk for a second?” he piques, halting you as you remove your seatbelt. 

“Sure, yeah. What is it?” 

“I’m not gonna ask if you’re doing alright, not when you’re gonna give me the same answer as always. But…please take care of yourself. You’ve been drinking quite a bit lately, and it can’t be helping you at all” 

You listen to him silently, not a thought in your brain. But you nod anyway. 

“Thanks for looking out, Shua. I’m…I’m probably not gonna be going out for a while, you’re right,” you reply, quietly, a small smile on your face that you can only hope is reassuring. 

“I don’t mean lock yourself up, either. You don’t give yourself a break and then try to make up for it by drinking your self faint every week, that’s never gonna help you. You know that.” He speaks in a soft, soothing voice, a hand coming up to pat your hair before landing on your clasped hands on your lap. “You know what, I’ll pick you up tomorrow night, we can go the fair just me, you and Seok-” 

“I have class tomorrow.” 

“Like showing up hungover is gonna help you retain any information. Just skip.” 

You sigh a deep exhale, deciding to simply be upfront. “I kinda just wanna stay home for a while, going out’s kinda making it worse. I think rotting in front of my laptop’s what I really need right now” 

Throwing in a tinkle of a laugh, you hope you’ve sold yourself.

“Alright,” he sounds slightly unconvinced but doesn’t push you further, “I’ll drop in to bother you tomorrow though, don’t try stoping me”

“Okay,” you say, smiling a little wider. “I’m gonna go now, goodnight.”

“Wait!” he stops you once again, right before your about to shut the door. “Have you talked to Mingyu at all?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Shua. Night” 

With that you’ve slammed the door of his car shut, missing the ghost of a “goodnight” that leaves Joshua’s lips as he watches you walk inside the building. 

“And stop staying out so late at night! What were you supposed to do if Joshua wasn’t there?” Seokmin rants as he walks back and forth grabbing you water and pills as you finish your forced breakfast.

“Take a taxi?” you suggest sarcastically. 

“What? And get me called to the station to identify your body parts when some dude decides he wants to play cannibalistic butcher?” he screeches, and it has you wincing and grabbing onto your head at his volume. You dramatize it a little, hoping he’d shut it with his nagging if you gained some extra sympathy. He doesn’t stop talking, but he does tone it down. 

“Whatever, I’m not going out anymore.” You push your plate and bowl away as you hop off the stool and stalk off to your room, making as much noise as possible in the process. 

Your brother calls after you, but you don’t stop. Your head was pounding, 

“Are you gonna take your meds? HELLO? Or do you enjoy the feeling of having your head split open?” he slams open the door of your room mid-sentence, going on at your blanket-clad figure on the bed. 

“I’m going back to sleep.”

“No, you’re taking your fucking meds.” A cup of water is thrust into your hands as you pick up the pills from Seokmin’s open palms, swallowing before he decides to shove it down your throat himself. 

He waits on the edge of the bed, checking to make sure you actually swallowed the pill instead of hiding it under your tongue like you’ve done since you were kids. 

“I’m not stopping you from going out if that’s what you think I mean,” he starts, a lot softer this time, and you’re taken back to your conversation with Joshua last night. “You’ve been going out and coming home wasted a lot more than normal lately. I don’t know if it’s because your college agendas are finally catching up to you or what.”

“I’m just…My friends are always out and I wanna be with them, it’s normal,” you grumble, disappearing deeper into your sheets.

“You’d tell me if something was bothering you, right?” 

‘Yeah, yeah, now shoo. Your voice is making my head hurt worse, I doubt Advils are immune to your yapping.” 

“Fine, fuck you too” he mumbles, leaving the room only to pop back in a second later. “Mom called last night, told her you were at a study group. Might wanna call her back before she catches a flight herself.” 

You wave two fingers up in a salute from your flat position on the bed, hearing him close the door. You don’t sit up until you hear the TV blare from the living room, knowing he had parked himself on the couch and has his attention diverted. 

The headache wasn’t actually that bad, you just really wanted to be left alone, and your brother had a habit to do the opposite when asked, so it had to be done. 

What on Earth were you supposed to tell him, anyway? That his best friend in the whole world rejected his sister on the spot when she confessed her decades long feelings? That she was ruining her liver and kidneys every weekend over a rejection? By his best friend in the whole world?

Yeah, that’s an easy conversation. 

Snuggling into the covers you try not to think back to the abomination that was your birthday party just a few weeks ago, but your thoughts yank you there anyway, as if to remind you of every wretched detail of the encounter like it was wasn’t already burned into your frontal lobe like a brand. 

You were on a high; too happy, too excited. It’s not like you were expecting anything for your first birthday at uni anyway, you were too old for pink blowout parties and too young for the madness of college level clubbing. You were excited for takeout with your brother, to sit in front of the TV for the rest of the night, maybe even stick a candle in one of your burgers and call it your cake. Plans were changed when you walked into your home, ready to wind down for the night and celebrate in your own way. 

It was a full house, food and drinks everywhere, complete with a loud “SURPRISE” as you walk through the door. You remember hugging both your brother and Mingyu when they tell you they did all of this for you, an overwhelming feeling overcoming you as you grip them tight, hoping it’ll transfer all the gratitude you couldn’t express. 

You’re breathless as the night progresses, trying hard to focus on the conversations at hand, trying to be a good host. Failing miserably, you can’t force your gaze from wandering every few minutes, searching for Mingyu in the crowd, watching him move his mouth as he talked, throw his hair back as he laughed, smile that beautiful, beautiful smile of his, perfect teeth on display. 

It had been bliss these past few weeks, the lingering smiles he would give you, the flirtatious attempts never gone unnoticed. The smoothest of words slipping right off his tongue as he gave you eyes that twinkled and sparkled and blew air directly into the embers in your heart. You would still yourself as they would happen, like the mirage would crack and shatter if you even dared to breathe; it felt unreal. After all these years, you realised soon, Kim Mingyu may have began to like you. 

You’d be lying if you said you were completely sober when it happened, drinks were passed around and as the birthday girl you didn’t seem to have a choice to back down, already a little hot and wide eyed barely halfway through the night. 

And when Mingyu doesn’t interact with you all night, you go to him as the numbers in the house dwindled, cornering him as he collected bottles in the kitchen.

“Hey!”, he sounds enthusiastic, “You having fun yet?”

“Yeah, thanks again for doing this.” your remember fidgeting with your fingers and nails, digging them into each other as you let yourself spew. 

“Are you gonna say thank you at every chance for the next six months? It's your first birthday away from home. Besides it was Seok’s idea, I just helped out.” He had said, beaming.

“Mingyu, can I talk to you about something…?”

You sigh loudly as you replay the memory, face pushed into the covers as you bite back a scream at the blood rushing to your head. 

Stupid. Idiot. Absolutely brainless.

“Oh.” He had breathed out when you had spilled your entire heart out to him standing in that kitchen, visibly taken aback at your abruptness. “I…I’m sorry I’m not quite sure what to say.” 

You still remember that sickening feeling, that big ball of junk and emotions that sank lower and lower in your abdomen, settling a deep hurt in your chest that made it difficult to breathe. 

Laying in your bedroom, weeks after the fact, you can still feel your breathing go slightly erratic at the memory, hot tears springing your eyes, burning before you wipe them away. You were aware how baffling it was, how you were letting it affect you to this degree, but you justified it with the years you had remained quiet, yearning on the sidelines. 

You deserved to wallow in this pit. 

At least that’s what you thought. But after last night you wonder if you had stopped indulging in the sorrow and let it ruin you instead. A sigh escapes you at the thought of ending yet another night in a dirty bathroom, makeup smeared and guts removed, misery becoming the only thing you were allowed to feel in the aftermath. 

You reach for your phone on the bedside table, flicking through your unread messages, barely registering a word as you leave them opened and unanswered. There wasn’t an ounce of willpower in you even after a full night’s sleep, turning your phone off before shoving it in your bedside drawer, forgotten. You take a moment to stare at the ceiling, having no energy to get up to turn your lights off. Until the doorbell sounds. 

Of course you knew who it was the second you heard, but the voice paired with your brother’s conversing outside was enough to have you catapulting out of bed. You slap your hand over the switchboard, turning off all your lights, moving across the room to pull your curtains shut, cascading complete darkness in the room. You fly under the covers as a last effort to convince, covering your face with the sheets just as you hear a knock. 

The door creaks open slightly as Seokmin calls out your name. 

“Are you up? Mingyu’s here, he brought coffee.” He whispers slowly. You don’t respond. 

He calls out your name one more time before you hear the door click shut. You don’t move till you hear his muffled voice on the other end, “She’s knocked out, her head was hurting, better let her rest.” 

Heat pricks the sides of your face as your body finally relaxes, borderline embarrassed at how you were hiding from him like a middle schooler who thinks she’s in love. Which you were at one point; now you're a college kid who thinks she’s in love.

You try not to focus too much on the sounds coming from outside, burying under the covers to attempt at sleep for real this time. Eyes screwed shut, you can’t help but open them at every other intonation. There was no way you could figure out what they were saying if you tried, between the door and the TV, it was all a taunting buzz in your ears. 

You do end up falling asleep. But only after you hear the droning of the TV turn off, and the distinct goodbyes as the front door clicks shut. 

Keeping to your promise, you stay away from late nights for the next couple of weeks. Joshua so far as commends you for declining invitations, offering dinner on him on one particular phone call. 

“You know, I was serious when I said I was proud of you.” Joshua voices solemnly as you attempt to cut a strip of meat onto the grill. You snort as a response. 

“I wasn’t like, an alcoholic, you’re making it sound worse than it was.” 

“It was still bad for it to affect you in that way. Takes a lot to get back up from heartbreak”

“Especially one that’s lasted for nearly a decade.” You sigh as you give up on the meat, handing the scissors and tongs over. 

“Are we still talking about that?” He raises his eyebrows. 

A smile makes its way to your face, nibbling on a radish, “No.”

“Good. Because we need to talk about if we want our noodles hot or cold.”

“Seok! SEOK! Where the fuck did you put my pimple patches?” Your screams echo across the house yet garner no response. Opting to yank open the fridge, you dig through through the box of face masks to find them possibly laying at the bottom, forgotten. Seokmin bounds into the kitchen, towel in hand as he pats at his damp hair.

“What?” 

“Nothing,” you huff, shoving the unfruitful box back into the cabinet, "you used up all the patches.”

“Patches? Pimple patches? We’ve been out for a month, just use this tube in the drawer.” Pulling open the drawer, he rummages for a moment before emerging with a sickly yellow tube of what looked like poorly marketed toothpaste.

“You want me to put this on my face?” 

“Yeah, it works, zit on my nose was gone by morning.” He stuffs the tube back in the drawer not before squeezing a small amount on his fingers to dab on your face.

“Ew, get your dirty hands away from my face.” You grip his wrists before he tries to move in further. 

He does nothing but shush you, shaking off your hands as you grumble in silence, letting him finger paint on your face. You move up to fix a roller on your head, undoing it before rolling the bit back in, resulting in another “tsk” emitting form your brothers concentrated face.

“Okay, enough! I don’t have that many zits.” You pull away as Seokmin moves to wash his hands. 

“Are you going to bed right now?” He asks as you move over to the door.

“Yeah. I’m not going to sleep, though.” 

“Gyu’s coming over, you were asleep when he was here last too.” 

It seemed as though every bone in your body rattled against your flesh. 

“When is he coming?” You ask quickly, frozen in your spot. 

The doorbell rings. 

“Right now, I guess.” He snickers to himself.

You can only watch in mild horror as he moves to open the door, words escaping you. You follow behind him, trying to stop him, yet not doing much other than reach the front door yourself, fingers frozen yet mildly trembling. 

“Wait!” You finally whisper-shout, “Don’t open it!” 

Seokmin pauses to give you a look, “Why? He’s seen you look worse, it’s fine”

The door wrenches open before you can protest any further, a cartoonish moment of the hunched figure of you, hands out in a nearly there grip. You’ve failed, and the chorus of ‘hey’’s reach your ears in almost a mocking manner. There’s a conscious effort on your end to not look up too high, keeping to chest eye level for your own sanity. What you find once your vision clears from the white blur, is that there’s not one, but two people at the door. 

Mingyu’s brought a girl. 

Standing behind the door meant there was no immediate attention on you, which should have been a perfectly good opportunity for you to book it to your room, but you don’t. You stand there instead, staring at the back of their heads like a child in wonder.

Once you are noticed by your brother, he winces at your appearance, a silent apology, like he didn’t know about this new guest either. Or he was apologising for what he was about to do next, you wouldn’t know, because you wouldn’t be hearing him out when you throttle him later. 

“This is my sister” 

All three sets of eyes are on you now, a moment of silence as they take in your appearance. The grandma nightgown, in all its blue and collared glory, does absolutely nothing to boost your confidence in front of the very pretty lady, whose hair cascades down her back, whose skin stands as clear as a summer sky. 

“Hi!” She breaks the awkward silence first, “I’m Jia, it’s nice to meet you! I’ve heard a lot about the both of you.”

What?

“Mingyu has a hard time keeping his mouth shut, I’m not surprised.” Seokmin tries to joke as he motions for the couch in the centre of the room. You catch him kicking a stray sock out of the way as he urges them to sit. 

With the way your brother is acting, you don’t doubt this is his first time meeting this girl. Mingyu is yet to clarify why he would bring a friend to the house unannounced, but something tells you you already know. You remain on the sidelines, inching away to the hallway slowly, trying your hardest to not bring attention to yourself.

“I haven’t seen you around campus ever, are you new?” Seokmin prods, his voice slightly on edge. 

“Oh, um-” Jia begins but is cut off by Mingyu as he speaks for her. 

“Jia doesn’t go to our uni, we met at Seungcheol’s, we’ve been dating for a couple months.” 

There it is. 

“Oh! Couple months? How come I didn’t know?” You don’t miss the hurt laced in your brother's words, your fists clenching slightly at the oncoming silence. 

“That’s on me, sorry. It’s just…I didn’t want anyone to know ‘cause I thought he was playing around when he said he liked me, I wanted to see if he was being real or not.” She laughs nervously, and you see the back of her head move as she talked. You can’t help but note the arm that’s swung across the back of the couch where she sat. “Please don’t be mad at him! I promise it was me that stopped him.”

You don’t hear too much of what happens afterwards as you slip away into the crevice of your bedroom, standing in the entryway in absolute silence, attempting to absorb what you had just witnessed outside. Approaching the full length mirror on the other end, it takes a lot out of your to bring yourself to look straight into it, regretting it immediately as you acknowledge your appearance. 

Of course, the woman who actually succeeded in winning over the man that rejected you had to witness you in the unappealing yellow paste that your brother graciously dotted all over your face, not leaving the giant rollers in your hair to cut you any slack either. You could cry about it, but you don’t. Instead you lay back in your bed, sniffling in the dark, just as you had the last time Mingyu was over. 

It’s significantly easier to drown out the voices this time round, especially when your mind is preoccupied with a couple months. Your birthday was a couple months ago, does that mean they started dating right after that conversation? Or were they already offical and you had waltzed in with your princess dreams about your brother’s best friend being in love with you. 

It made perfect sense at the time, and no sense at all anymore as you wonder why on Earth he was being so forwardly flirty with you if there was another girl all along. There’s a bitter taste in your mouth as you recall how he had quit perceiving you altogether after that night, and you can’t help but mentally commend Jia for testing him by keeping it quiet. Especially when he was going around flirting with his best friend’s sister. 

It didn’t take long for you to guage Mingyu’s reputation when you first dropped into university, the senior having made himself a reputation none less similar than he had in high school. He was popular, but with his outgoing personality and a face like that it was hard not to be liked. Your brother was right there beside him, living it up as carefree college kids, suddenly remembering he now had a little sister to tend to. You were grateful for the both of them for being there to help you take your first baby steps, all the rites of passage and which professors sucked the least, not leaving the leaky water fountain to never drink from. 

That was when Mingyu’s (supposed) advances had begun. 

You’re projected back to first semester, when both of them had dragged you to the same couch outside, talking about an “important thing you should know”. 

“You walk into class one day, expecting nothing out of the ordinary. Your professor drones on as usual, your classmates look bored as usual, you’re tired as usual. But then!” Seokmin breathes in sharply, and you hear Mingyu bound to the other side of your vision, emerging on the opposite end of the room with a backpack swung over his shoulder. 

“The man of your dreams walks by…” Seokmin continues and you snap your head towards him in a panic, suddenly afraid he had found you out. He’s busy though, making ethereal hands in Mingyu’s general direction, while the latter walks in comedic slow motion like he’s in a K-drama b-roll, complete with passes over his hair and a nonchalant yet controlled expression. 

“What is this about?” It comes out snappier than you had intended, but you’ve had one scare already. 

“Just!” your brothers hands turn from graceful to clenched, like it was you he was trying to squish you for interrupting him, “Listen, alright?” 

“The man of your dreams walks by,” he goes back to his narrator voice, “and you wonder where he’s been all your life. You start talking, you’re enamoured. You start thinking about introducing him to your parents, what your wedding’s gonna look like, what your kids are gonna look like!” 

Your face is becoming increasingly warped the more you listen to him speak, not being able to fathom where this was going. 

“But no!” It’s Mingyu that speaks this time, pushing a jolt out of you as he slams the backpack on the floor, pointing directly at you for added effect,  “You’re better than that!”

“What the fuck-” you start, but are shushed by a physical finger on your lips as Mingyu shushes you. Seokmin slaps his hand away. 

“Our point is, that you’re probably gonna come across someone who you think is your next boyfriend.” Your brother continues, “But lucky for you, you have two seasoned professionals here to tell you that it’s nothing but fresher’s fever.” 

“It’s a new place, new people, loads of new experiences; you’re bound to latch on one of the first couple pieces of meat. Our advice is don’t, because it will happen to you. But you also now know that your just in a deluded stage right now. Give it a semester before you start dating people, trust.” Mingyu finishes for Seokmin as he thumps down on the couch next to you. 

“So all of this was just another stay away from boys lecture?” You raise your eyebrows. 

“Yes and no. You can date whoever you want,” Seokmin answers coolly before quickly adding, “but not right now.”

It was laughable, the thought of latching onto another person when you’d been trying exactly that for years. To have anyone catch your eye, to have anyone sweep you away from this madness that came in the form of Kim Mingyu. Neither of these seasoned professionals had a thing to worry about though, because you weren’t latching on anything that came out of this institute. You had already done so, in a stage more impressionable than this, years and years before any of them knew of the dangers of young girls and new boys in their vicinity. 

“Okay, I know you��re like on a self inflicted party ban and all that…” Joshua starts the second he places himself at your table, still haggard looking from jogging across campus.

“Don’t even try.” You warn with filled cheeks.

“Girl, let him finish.” Nayeon chides next to you. 

You exhale through your nose heavily, going back to pick at your tray as Joshua continues.

“Cheol’s throwing a little party tonight to celebrate the end of midterms.” He starts, “You should come, it's only gonna be a handful of people.” 

“A handful?” You repeat, unable to bite back the amusement in your voice. 

“Come on, your brother’s going as well! You’ll be fine, I promise we’ll keep you in check.” 

“I don’t need to be kept in check, I’m fine.” You grumble.

“Perfect! Nothing stopping you then, I’ll pick you both up at 8.” The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s back to sprinting out the vicinity, garnering looks from oncoming traffic, off to his next pestering destination 

“I don’t think I’d explicitly agreed.” You voice. 

“He got what he wanted.” Nayeon snorts, “Whatever, we’ll get ready at my place after this.”

“Weren’t you guys worried about me? Now you’re actively dragging me to parties.” You drop your utensils onto the tray.

“Too much of either isn’t a good thing, you went from forgetting what home looks like to exclusively holing yourself up in there.” She stabs a piece of potato with a chopstick and tries to pry it in your mouth. “Besides, Cheol’s parties are always super intimate, they’re all gonna be people you know, don’t worry.”

‘Super intimate’, as Nayeon had put it, had amounted to at least fifty people as you take in the crowd at the floor of the house. Despite not being packed to the brim, it was still coming out to look like a full house, random items already scattered across the floors in true frat party fashion. 

“Do you want a beer?” Nayeon asks, dragging you to the kitchens by the hand as you crane your neck to spot people.

“Uh, no. Is there juice?” 

“Um, there’s a questionable looking fruit punch.” she wrinkles her nose at the blaring red bowl on the counter. 

You sigh, grabbing a cup, “I’ll risk it.”

Joshua was air the second he had walked in with you, whisked away to socialize with his own hoard of acquaintances, leaving both you and Nayeon to fend for yourselves. You’re yet to spot your brother, granted you’d only been here a mere five minutes, his rowdy demeanor making him quite easy to spot in usual circumstances. 

Taking a casual sip of the electric red liquid you’re forced to make a face as you register the flavour, alerting Nayeon, who was too busy fiddling through multiple crystal bottles. 

“What? Is it bad?” 

“What the fuck is that?” You sputter in astonishment, wondering how the bowl was already half empty. “Who’s drinking this stuff?” 

She grabs the cup from you before taking a gulp herself, emerging the same gagging mess you were, eyes watering at the taste. It seemed almost comical when Seokmin shows up behind her, waiting to greet only to find both of you doubled over. His eyes move over to the potion in Nayeon’s hand and passes a knowing look.

“He’s brought The Whole Shabang out of retirement.” He states like it was the obvious answer.

Nayeon spits first, “Are we supposed to know what that means?” 

“Cheol got drunk one time in freshman year and mixed every ounce of alcohol he owned into one big bowl of despair. We retired it last year when the bowl broke and stained his counters. But anyway, beginners are supposed to dilute it before downing it.”

“That’s great and everything but why is it so red?” You ask.

Another voice speaks from behind you, turning around to find Seungcheol himself. “There’s an entire thing of food colouring in there, gives it an edge don’t you think?”

“I’m scared of you.” You deadpan, a sour expression remaining on your face. 

Seunghceol is quick to suggest the backyard for some fresh air to distract from the flavour it’s left in your mouths, commenting on the nice weather. Neither him nor your brother stick around for too long though, dipping at the holler of their names somewhere inside. You’re comfortable though, despite being blocked off by a concrete railing, the stairs make a nice haven for the both of you to lie down and stare into the clearer than usual sky. Cheol was right, it was nice outside. 

“I can’t lay down like this, I need to get a drink.” Nayeon announces not even five minutes later. 

“Why didn’t you get one when we were there?” You groan, but she doesn’t respond as she hops back inside, throwing a promise to be quick in the air behind her. 

The wall supports you as you deflate into it, legs sprawled across the steps in disarray. Nobody could see you anyway, taking full advantage as you practically manspread. The side of the pool that’s in your vision is empty by grace; calm save for the giant flamingo floaty that bobs itself into view from the edge of the wall you lean against. A breathy laugh leaves you at the sight. 

The railing on your other side is mostly concealed, you can still make out the wicker sofa set, complete with an unlit fireplace. It’s unoccupied, for the time being, as you register a conversation floating closer and closer to your ears. Wondering if Nayeon had brought friends, you stand up quickly to look over the railing to check for her face over the sliding door that leads inside. 

There’s no Nayeon in sight. 

But there is Mingyu. 

His mere presence knocks your butt back onto the concrete the second you see him stumbling over the threshold with a hoard of his friends, nothing short of his picturesque party strut. There was little reason for you to hide from him at all, considering the very possible notion that he would look right past you if you happened across his line of sight. Space floating in, he’d ignore you for your sake or his own, perhaps even both. 

For now, he’s seated himself with a few other people on the wicker sofas, leaving you hugging your knees to your chest, head on the concrete wall with the lingering feeling akin to that of a trapped mouse. Closing your eyes, you blow out air in an attempt to relax yourself, take light of the situation you’ve found yourself in. You could get up and leave in this very moment, possibly go unnoticed if you stalked back inside before they began their rattle not meant for your ears. 

And yet, you find yourself unable to move, not even when you hear their topic shift to Mingyu’s new beau. Suddenly you wish you’d moved inside the moment you saw him. 

“Was it you that stopped Jia from coming to parties?” You hear somebody ask.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Mingyu grumbles, he pauses and you assume he’s taking a swing of his drink. “We started going out and suddenly she didn’t wanna come, that’s fine though, it isn’t her vibe anyway.”

There’s a snigger that moves across everybody seated, you hear loud thwack before Mingyu speaks again, “What’s so fucking funny?” 

“This girl’s made you work for it, huh?” 

“Isn’t that like, his brand? Don’t look at me like that, you’re the one yapping about liking a challenge all the time.”

“Yeah, remember Minji?” 

“I still think she was only pretending to not like you, her clique was always smacking at her to straighten up when you’d come over like we couldn’t see everything.” You could almost hear the eye rolling.

“Change the subject, will you?” Mingyu proposes, sounding exhausted at the prodding already.

“I apologise for the ex talk and nothing else.” 

There’s a pause for another choke of laughter across the group, and you wonder what it was that they found so funny. 

“I don’t know if I should say this…” Somebody begins, but is cut off by Mingyu.

“Then don’t say it.” He snaps, but you don’t miss his own jest. 

“I honestly thought you were gonna date Seok’s sister at some point. I mean, common consensus is that bagging your best friend’s sister is… what you’d call a challenge.”

What the fuck. 

You feel your eyes drifting closed at the turn this conversation has taken, wishing to simply fall asleep at what it’s come to. Somebody speaks up. 

“Nah, that’s like, the grand slam prize, that one comes after he’s done hanging with the side quests.” 

The situation is making itself out to be something out of a fever dream. 

Mingyu tsks, and you note a jostle happening through the gaps of the railing. “I’m leaving.” 

You find yourself hugging yourself tighter, eyes shut like he wouldn’t be able to see if you couldn’t see him. Not that it was possible unless he peered directly through the railing in his peripheral. 

“OKAY! Okay! We’re kidding.” There’s a pause. “Okay, but really…”

Another pause, this time longer. You hate how you can picture the ghost of an exasperated smile on Mingyu’s face, a bite of his lip perhaps, dejected at the shoulder with his longing, distant look. You hate how your mind fills the gaps of him the railing won’t allow you to see. 

“Seok’s not the type to beat me up if I dated his sister. And besides…” He sighs, halting his words.

“Besides what?” Somebody chimes in.

“I’m not interested in going after someone who’s chased my tail for the past fifteen years.”

There’s a chorus of hisses and oh’s, a few bounts of laughter in their disbelief. You can feel your stomach twist, heat pooling your figure. 

It would’ve been better if his words had hit you like a gong, maybe the aftermath wouldn’t have felt as horrid. But the connotations crept up on you like a million spiders making their trek up to your brain, waiting to stick their crawlers in the bits that would allow those words to hold meaning for you. You can feel the electric red of Seungcheol’s god awful concoction begin to rise up in your throat like bile; burning, imprinting. 

Mingyu had said what he had said. And everything was in it’s place, in finality. 

Despite the nearly four year age gap, you and Seokmin had co-existed without the semblance of an older-younger duo. It was mostly owed to Seokmin's shy nature, and his difficulty making solid friends. That, however, didn’t last long as your brother progressed through middle school. 

You had met Mingyu for the first time when Seokmin brought his first ever friend from school home for dinner. 

Despite being barely nine years old and half spoon fed by your mother at the same table, the prospect of Seokmin’s new friend was equal to you having a new friend – which caused enough excitement as you brought your favourite cartoon books into your brother’s room to show this new person after dinner. 

As the following year progressed, you saw less and less of your brother, and more and more of newer faces of ‘friends’ that you weren’t allowed to play with. It was distressing enough to be told by your mother that something of your brother’s was not yours, but even more so when you were kicked out of the room by Seokmin himself for the very first time.

It wasn’t as trauamtising as it felt in the moment, because you grew to find your own group of friends, doing the same as you’d kick your brother out for being annoying – except unlike you, he was doing it on purpose. 

Mingyu was a recurring face, one that was nicer to you on the days your brother was meaner, more forgiving on the days your relatively new middle school was relentless. He fit himself in your life easier than you had realised, more comfortable than you soon found you were comfortable with.

“Did you take my guitar picks?” Your brother bursts into your room just as your about to fall into your after school nap, grip loosening on the book in hand. 

Jolting awake at the sound of loud voice, you don’t respond as you attempt to orient yourself. 

“Well? Did you?” He demands again.

“What? No, I don’t know where your stupid guitar pick is.” You grumble. “Get out.”

“It’s not in my room that has to mean you took it, where is it?” 

Mingyu emerges from behind him, hand on his arm as he tries to pull his iron grip off of your doorway. “It’s probably just in your bag, you haven’t even looked!” 

Kicking the covers off, you sit up in a disarray, progressively annoyed at your brother for ruining your perfect descent into dreamland. 

“I don’t have shit, you just suck at keeping tabs on your stuff!” You grit. 

There’s a stagnant pause as he stares at you from the doorway. You can sense it coming. And it does. 

“MOM! SHE JUST SWORE!” He yells into the hallway, bounding to where your mother was, leaving an unsure Mingyu in your doorway.

Surprisingly, you were just glad he was gone, wanting to melt back into the covers. You make eye contact with Mingyu. “I really don’t have it.” 

“It’s probably in there somewhere, he’s just not looking.” He mumbles, standing a little awkward. “Um, go back to whatever it was, I’ll close your door.”

He does so, allowing you to finally slump back into your pillows to go back to your nap.

You find out quickly that you couldn't sleep after that.

The controller is becoming increasingly uncomfortable to hold. It doesn’t help that you’re brother is chewing on his four additional pieces of gum behind you on the couch, making obnoxious comments about your gaming form. 

You’re also sitting a foot away from Kim Mingyu on the floor, with whom you’re forced to battle out on Mario Kart. 

“Why’re you clicking the buttons so hard, chill out.” You heat Seokmin say, continued by his wet chomping right by your ear. 

“How hard is it to chew with your mouth closed?” Mingyu grits.

“What? Like this?” Seokmin leans over to Mingyu, chewing even louder, mouth wrenched open and closed right into his ear. Mingyu makes a sound before falling to his side, covering his ears at the ghastly sound, pushing him back with his free hand to shut him up.

You barely crack a smile at the unfolding, watching them continue to wrestle half on the floor. It’s noisy when you set your controller down, chest heavy, unfolding your legs to walk into the hallway to your room. Unnoticed. 

You only reemerge to feed yourself, inspecting the fridge for possible leftovers. Settling on an apple, you’re closing the fridge when you see Mingyu walk in, seemingly taken aback to see you there. You freeze with your mouth still attached to the apple to take a bite. 

“Oh! Where’d you go when we were playing? Didn't notice you gone till I got him to spit that wad of gum out his mouth.”

“Uh, just tired. Took a nap.” 

He hums in response and you're just about to leave when he starts talking again. 

“Hey, did you move the popcorn somewhere else? Could’ve sworn it was in here last week,” he mumbles as he rummages through a cabinet. 

“Oh. Um. It’s in the pantry.” You move before you can think, grabbing the box and slamming it on the counter, pausing briefly before reaching for the popcorn bowl and setting it on the counter next to it. “Here.”

You don’t wait for a reply before grabbing your apple and moving out the kitchen, only to bump into your brother at the door. 

“Where’ve you been?” 

“Napping,” you say, moving around him to go your own way but are stopped yet again as he calls for you. 

“We’re gonna watch a movie! You can lie on the couch.” 

Turning around, you catch sight of your brother still in the doorway, and more intriguing, Mingyu also expecting an answer from inside the kitchen behind him. You gulp as you attempt to remain casual.

“Nah, I’m good. You guys have fun.” 

You’re nearly at your door when you hear your brother speak. “She didn’t even ask what we were watching.”

Nayeon catches up with you before you notice, pulling your headphones away from your ears to announce her presence, not slowing down as you walked to campus. 

“Are you still upset about that Mingyu thing?” She asks when noting your silent demeanor. “We talked about this, come on.”

“Yeah and we concluded that it’s not an easy thing for me to just get over.” You huffed.

“You know what he’s like…” 

“Which is why I should’ve seen this all coming.” You turn around the corner with her.

“That’s not what I meant either.”

“I don’t know what came over me that day. I was doing so well for so long and I had to go ruin it because I’m – I deluded myself into thinking I had a chance.” You’re breathing heavily when you find a table in the air conditioned common room, yanking your bag off and slumping into the sofa. “None of this would’ve happened if I just shut the fuck up.” 

“What wouldn’t have happened?” Seungcheol plops down next to Nayeon, butting into the conversation. 

“Aren’t you intrigued.” Nayeon muses. 

“Especially when it’s none of my business.” 

“Charming.” 

“Anywho,” he sighs, throwing himself back against the couch. “I’ve been tasked with rounding people up for an assignment.”

“Are you gonna experiment on us?” you ask, referring to his chemistry major. 

“Nah, this is for an elective. Faculty needs volunteers for a photography class.” 

“So they need models?” You ask.

“I mean, anyone who signs up is automatically a model, so yeah they need models.” 

“Are we getting paid?” 

“You get to say you modeled for me.” 

“How convincing.” Nayeon deadpans. 

You’re stifling a snicker as you see Joshua walking up to where you were sat, planting himself next to you. 

“What’re we talking about?” He asks, pulling his laptop out almost immediately.

“Nothing, just how Seungcheol needs a reality check,” you sigh. 

He barely acknowledges the comment, going straight to business typing away. “Hey, you're staying for the summer right?” 

“Ew,” Seungcheol voices. 

“I am,” You confirm. 

“For what?” He sputters. 

“Is this you offering to pay for a round trip?” 

He silences quickly after that, giving room for Joshua to ask his next question. 

“Are your parents coming for your brother’s grad?” 

“Mhm, only for the night, though.”

“Oh, did you hear back from the bookstore too?” he asks. 

“I’m gonna apply right before break, I’m swamped right now.” 

“Let me know when you do, the restaurant might need another hire, you could work there if you want.” 

You make a face. “Appreciate the sentiment but I don’t think I’m in the right state of mind to be working in customer service.” 

Joshua’s hands freeze over his keyboard as he breathes out a delayed laugh. Nayeon mimics him.

“Right state of mind?” Seungcheol’s eyebrows are furrowed. “Wait, what were you talking about before I sat down again-” 

He’s cut off by a voice bellowing your name from across the common room. All four of you perk up at the sound, locking in on Mika aggressively pointing her wrist at you from yards away. You sit up with a jerk, checking the time. You were nearly thirty minutes late for your lecture.

“Josh, move.” You basically climb over him to get out of your seat, waving a hasty goodbye as you sprint to an exasperated Mika. 

“I’ve been waiting outside the hall for ages, you said we’d go in together!” she chides as you both speedwalk. 

“Sorry, I lost track of time…” You huff out a breath. “I just started talking about…whatever.” 

“Why’d you have that face on in there?” she asks.

“Huh? Oh, I was-”

“Nevermind, I don’t wanna know.” She picks up the pace and reaches the door before you do, rendering it impossible for you to speak to her after that. 

You’ve forgotten about it by the time you come home to an empty house, both Mika and Nayeon in your arms. It doesn’t take long for them to make themselves comfortable on the couch, looking at you expectantly like children waiting to be fed. You do that, courtesy of the half eaten pizza that sits on the coffee table. 

“I think you need to get drunk,” Nayeon voices from her end of the couch. 

Mika is immediate with her response, “Don’t encourage her.” 

“Hey!” You pout, “I haven’t gotten drunk in a while.”

“Keep it that way,” she shudders, “don’t need another Mingyu fiasco.” 

Your chewing slows at the sound of his name, a strange feeling settling in your stomach at the thought of him. Setting down your half eaten slice, you brush off your fingers. 

“I mean…” Nayeon starts after a long pause. 

“We don’t. Need another Mingyu fiasco, I mean.” You cut in. 

“If only he’d learn to shut up.” Nayeon grumbles, a sour expression on her face. 

Mika’s been shifting looks between the both of you, seemingly confused. “Am I missing something?”  

Despite not having the intention, you find yourself telling her what you heard while enclosed in the staircase. You attempt to keep it concise, for the sake of your own sanity, but Nayeon’s grumbling is only pushing you deeper into a rant. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t let a couple frustrated tears make their way down your face. 

Mika’s response as brisk as your explanation was passionate, brushing over the topic quickly before you got too heated. You appreciated it. 

“Have you considered signing up for the photography thing?” Mika asks.

“You know, I was thinking about that too.” Nayeon pulls a finger up in signed patience to wait till she finished the remaining pizza in her mouth. “You should do it. It’ll put your mind off…him. You’ll be busier too.”

“I have a million things to do, I’m busy enough.” You retort. 

“You’re busy studying at home. Where he could drop in at any point of day.” She points. 

Your open your mouth to rebut again, only to close it as you fail to find a reason to deny her point. “Okay, still!” 

“Just – think about it, okay. It’ll put more on your plate but maybe it’ll help.”

That was the last of your Mingyu talk, not that you could carry on when your brother comes slumping into the house after his class, stealing a slice of pizza as he makes his way to his room. He’s slumped at the shoulders, and you egg him to take a nap before he collapsed on the living room floor. 

Both Nayeon and Mika are quick to leave after that, leaving you with leftover pizza and your thoughts.

You sprawl your things out on the coffee table, taking advantage of the silent house to get some work done. Nayeon was right, as you think of the prospect of Mingyu entering at any given moment to bother your brother as a constant threat. 

It’s not until your prepping dinner with Seokmin that the project is brought up again.

“There’s leftover Chow Mein Mingyu made yesterday, shove that in too.” He yawns as he pushes the box over. 

You can only stare at the box in mild agitation, contemplating if you should simply chuck it into the garbage chute. Unfortunately, by experience, you knew Mingyu made really good Chow Mein, so you begrudgingly slide the opened box into the microwave to heat up, deciding you’d push Seok to eat it before you have a chance to take a bite. 

It’s silent while you eat, Seokmin still in a daze from his earlier nap, shoving spoonfuls of noodles in between bites of pizza. It’s not until your halfway through eating before he jolts up slightly like he’d just remembered something.

“Did you hear about that volunteering thing from the photography department? They want models for some project.” 

“Oh, yeah.” You pause, thinking back to what Nayeon had proposed. “Are you gonna sign up?” 

“No, but you should.”

“I don’t know, I still have a lot of prep for finals.”

“You get extra credit if it helps,” he notes. 

That was news to you. There’s a frown on your face as you deny, “No, you don’t.” 

“They’re doing it ‘cause they weren’t getting the response they wanted. I found out just now too, they’re gonna put it up on the bulletin tomorrow. Might wanna decide before then.” 

There were no questions asked after the realization, blue light of the laptop casting your face aglow in the darkened room as you hit the big blue Confirm button on the website. Skimming through the subsequent email, you find you won’t be needed till next week, the date and time making it’s way to your calendar. 

Now, if you had known what the next week truly held for you, there was no doubt you’d be sending in a cancellation email at first chance. 

But you didn’t know. So you simply went to bed, falling asleep to the vague idea of searching for modeling tips on youtube during the coming weekend, entertaining the mild possibility that this might be the thing that puts you at peace at last. 

The photography classes are held in regular lecture rooms, as you find out as you file into the sparingly filled hall at the date your calendar has graciously alerted you for. There was an image of a larger, more spacious area for a discipline pertaining to the arts, yet to be fair, the idea of having to create this form of art within a four walled containment did seem a little counter productive. 

Nonetheless, you find yourself seated in a spare chair, waiting for the clock to hit nine on a Saturday morning for the shuffling professor at the front of the room to begin. Your eyes make passovers across the gradually filling room, searching for a semblance of Seuncheol’s bright blond hair to wave him over. There’s no sign of him five minutes before the minute hit twelve, and you’re thinking about slipping to the restroom before it can to kill the remaining time. 

There’s another person filing into the room as you rise from your chair, and you pause in attempt to recognize Cheol in the grey zip up.

Except you don’t find Seungcheol, not at all. 

Mingyu is walking into the classroom, gaze sweeping across the hall as he seats himself in the front bottom row, head thrown back as he sifts through his perfect hair with his fingers. 

You aren't sure why your brows furrowed like they did, or why you planted your butt back onto the chair with the force that you did; especially when all you wanted to do was book it out of the room in full velocity. 

He was taking this class. Of course you knew that, especially when it was all he would yap about at any point he graced your presence. 

You can feel your purpose in the room fade to nothing as you register him as a unit. You want to blame someone, but you know it’s all you fault. You knew he’d be here; if your mind had only thought fit to remind you at any point in the past week. 

In regular Mingyu fashion, if he’d seen you, he does nothing to show it as you find him unraveling a loose thread off of his jacket. You keep your eyes on him, remaining mortified at your blatant disregard to the information that Mingyu was also in this class. Come to think of it, it was probably Mingyu who told Seokmin about the added credit in the first place. You want to kick yourself for not questioning your brother’s apparent magical source of information. 

There’s nothing that can be done as you feel Seungcheol finally slip into the seat next to you just as the professor in the front of the room begins to speak. You’re not in the right headspace to make conversation, so you're grateful for the small acknowledgment as the professor begins to drone. 

“Each student has been given a theme to work with, they’re all different and given to the people whom I saw fit for the job. You’ll be receiving your packets with your theme today, so remember to pick them up from the front desk before you leave,” she begins. 

“As for your models,” she switches to the next slide over to reveal a spreadsheet full of names. “Their names will be right next to yours, the photography students.” 

The entire room lurches forward as a unit, eyes squinted and whispers exchanged as they search for their partners in the sea of names. Seungcheol is zooming in on the picture he took with his phone, eyes zooming over to find his name. 

“Hey, I found yours!” he announces, moving the phone over to you. 

He’s zoomed into your full name on the screen, and your moving the picture aside to see the name across from it. Except, you find you wish you hadn’t. 

—Kim, Mingyu. 

If you needed more confirmation that the universe was simply against you, you’d gotten the message as you prayed the letters would morph into something else before your very eyes. 

You seem to have been staring at the name for too long, because Seungcheol snatches his phone back from your grip to see for himself after you refused to answer his questions of what the name next to yours was. 

“Oh, it’s Mingyu! That’s easy, you're basically related.”

You wanted to slap him. 

Before you can stop him, he’s yelling the boy’s name across the room amidst the growing chatter, the biggest, stupidest grin on his face. “Mingyu! I found your model, she’s right here! 

You wanted to squeeze Seungcheol’s neck till his head popped off. 

Mingyu turns around at the call, registering his friend’s words despite the growing noise. He registers you and you watch as he turns his head back at the projection, like he was confirming it was true. 

Of course he’s as petrified as you are, if not more. But the embarrassment of his apparent disbelief made its hot way into your stomach and chest nonetheless, your breakfast threatening to make its way back up. 

By the time the professor’s done with her bit and the room has begun to file out, you’ve found yourself standing outside the lecture hall in uncomfortable movement, shifting your weight between both feet and fiddling with the straps of your bag. Every passing face sends a jolt though your stomach as you calculate how jarring it would be if you left right this second without seeing him. 

You're counting his steps inside your head, how he’d shuffle for his name on the packet he’s meant to receive, counting in any conversation he’d start with a friend or with the professor. A thought occurs to you, and you wonder if he was searching for you inside. You’re weighing between walking inside and leaving altogether when he makes the decision for you, walking out of the room, booklet in hand. 

There goes the toast blaring its way back up your esophagus. 

“Hey,” he says unceremoniously. 

You respond with an unreasonably meek “Hi.” 

“Seok didn’t tell me you signed up for this.” He points casually. 

Well, Seok doesn’t need to tell you everything. 

“Oh, I told him while he was like half asleep, pretty sure he thought he dreamt it.”

Mingyu snorts a little at that, a slight smile appearing on his face as he pictures a sleepy Seokmin. 

“I can imagine,” he says, before he’s brought back to the matter at hand by you. 

You clear your throat before you begin to talk, expression remaining neutral. “Do we need to get started right away?” 

“Oh.” He seems a little taken aback at your forwardness. Like he didn’t know why you didn’t want to make small talk with him. “Uh, I don’t even know what theme I have yet. I’ll read over the packet and plan a couple things out before you have to come in.”

“That’s great.” You hold on the straps of your tote. “Text me when you need me.”

With that, you had spun on your heel and stalked away, not leaving room for him to retort with anything at all. You don’t look back. 

Nayeon can do nothing but gape as she watches you hold back frustrated tears, picking apart the grass under you as you curse the heavens for your horrible fate. She’s absorbing the situation as you wallow, finding the words to say.

“Fuck, this is my fault,” she breathes out.

“No!” You gasp out, furiously wiping away the irritating tears. “It’s not. I just forgot, it’s my own fault. You were right for trying to get me to do it, it just…”

“You can’t ask to change partners?” she asks.

“I can’t!” You wail, “I’m supposed to not care, how is this me not caring?” 

It was ridiculous. Truly. You were sobbing like a child over this, screaming about wanting to not care. But you did care. Too much. Nayeon can do little but hold you as you sniffle into her lap, feeling sick to your stomach at your own childish behaviour. 

“Why am I crying about this, this is stupid.”

“You’re stressed, hon, that’s it. You’ve got a lot going on and this just multiplied it.” She’s running a soothing hand over your back. “Just let it out, you need it.”

You emerge from your hunched position to sit up straight, sniffling a little less as you calm down. “Should I withdraw from the project?” 

“I mean, if you really want to,” she says softly. 

“But?” You sense her apprehension.

“But, maybe you should give it a go.” 

You can only blink at her with wet lashes.

“Think of it this way. You need to… build resistance, keep yourself around him regardless. There’s bound to come a point where you start to feel…nothing.” 

“Are you trying to work exposure therapy on me?” 

“Maybe? If that’s what it means. If you take yourself out of the project, it shows that you care. You need to pretend to not care before you can stop feeling the real thing.” 

There’s a pause as you attempt to find reason in her words.

“Listen, I may be talking out of my ass, and if you do end up doing it, it’s gonna be hard – like a lot, but–”

“No. You’re making sense.” 

“I am?” She blinks, taken aback at the realisation that you may be listening to her. You nod quietly, “You’re right, I can’t keep running away.” 

“So, you’re gonna do it?” She confirms with wide eyes.

Once again, you find it within yourself to nod. 

Yeah. You were gonna do it.

Being in Mingyu’s presence and feeling nothing may be the goal, but you realise quickly it’s going to take you a while to restrain the trailing eyes that follow him wherever he goes. Nayeon had warned you, but you realise you may be slightly ill-prepared. 

The theme is light. Vague to you but he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. He isn’t looking at you as he talks, eyes darting between the laptop screen and the plethora of papers he’s scattered on the coffee table. “I don’t really have a colour preference for this one but a a deeper blue or a purple would fit pretty well with the sunlight on here.”

You can only nod along in mild understanding, most of your effort exerted on trying to keep your eyes on the screen where he’s pulling up a color wheel. “I probably have something.” 

“Do you still have that button up Seok bought you? The one with the stripes?”

You recall the deep blue shirt your brother had gotten you for your first in class presentation, picturing it hung still in your closet. “Uh, yeah I do. I’ll wear it.”

“Bring options, whatever fits the colours. No turtlenecks or crewnecks though…” Mingyu continues to talk, taking notes for you in the process. Your mind, however, is somewhere else.

You hate how your mind takes you to a murkier place, one where the thought of him retaining memory of your closet pieces unprovoked has your neck tingling and your cheeks lifting. Trying to snap out of it before he notices your dazed expression, you pretend to flip through the couple papers in front of you, noting nothing. 

“Other than that–” he’s cut off by his phone ringing on the table. Both your gazes dart to the caller ID, and you immediately wish you hadn’t as you register the pink heart on the end. Jia was calling. 

He barely spares you a glance as he excuses himself in a mumble, something about being back in a second. You watch him leave through the cafe altogether, emerging on the other end of the glass walls in your direct vision. For the nth time that day, you find it impossible to tear your eyes away from his positively elated face, teeth out on display as talks to his girlfriend. You wonder what they’re talking about, if her face is beaming like his own, wherever she is. 

You zone out as you wonder what it’d be like to be the receiving end of an expression like that. To have something within you to be worth his smile, his mumbled pardons and his uninterrupted space. There’s a part of you that wonders if its greed – you’ve gotten to see him nearly everyday for the past decade, perhaps you’ve run your tickets dry. 

You realise quickly that Mingyu is no longer in your line of sight as you feel a ruffle on the chair as he sits back on his seat. 

“I think we can wrap up here, let me take the first couple shots before I can see where to go with it afterwards.”

You sense his eager want to leave, and you cannot help but beat him to it for your own sake. 

“Alright. I’ll see you friday then.” SLiding out of your seat, you make a halfhearted attempt at shuffling his papers in a neater pile, throwing him a half smile before grabbing your bag.

He isn’t watching you leave, you know that. Yet you find yourself refusing to slow down or look back till you round the corner, letting your shoulders finally slump and your pace to come to a temporary halt. It takes you another beat before you begin walking again, breathing in slowly as you navigate your way through the moderately crowded sidewalk. Nearly ramming into a fire hydrant, you shake off the seize that remains in your body, picking up the pace hoping it’d promote less thoughts.

It works, as you unlock your front door, finally shaking off the autopilot. Shifting to the kitchen is easy, rummaging the cabinets for your hidden stash of moonpies with the intention to devour the family box whole. You’re contemplating texting Seokmin to bring you actual food as you make your way to your bedroom, wanting nothing more than to let your covers absorb all the feelings that make you human. 

You find it unfortunate as you catch sight of yourself in the full length mirror and the outfit you’d put together before you had left. Your mind goes back to pandemonium as you take in the details, wondering why on earth you’d put in so much effort for a conversation that lasted less than an hour. You tear your eyes away before you begin to truly hate yourself, ripping your jewelry off as you make a beeline to wash your face clean of the makeup you’d put on. 

It becomes increasingly difficult to look at yourself even in the bathroom mirror, moisturizer going on more aggressively than what’s good for you. You feel a sting in the back of your eyes and owe it to the face wash. 

It’s easier once you’re in bed, your laptop at the ready, and a text on its way as you bug your brother to bring you your favorite burger and milkshake combo. You put your immediate faith in your moonpies for now as you rip the first one open, letting the sweetness bring you a deluded happiness. 

“His name hurts.” Your voice comes out echoey, the sound reverberating in the cavern of your chest. The shot on the table is inviting, but you can’t help but feel nauseous at the thought of downing it. Your fizzled out sprite is being good to you, so you let it.

“Hearing you talk about him hurts,” Mika slurs, slumping down onto the beanbag she’s dragged onto the scene, joining you and Nayeon next to the couch. 

Letting out a loud sigh that you doubt she can hear over the bass booming across the house, you settle to rest your head back on the couch backrest, staring into the ceiling. “Imagine what it’s doing to me then.”

“I don’t need to.” You can hear the exasperation in her voice. 

“Oh, hey, Hao!” Nayeon drags next to you and you lift your head up to see Mika’s boyfriend join her on the already tiny beanbag. He huffs out a hey between a slight smile, slumping almost entirely on his girlfriend. She pats his hair in silent regard. 

“I read this research paper about how they can delete the memories out of your brain squiggles,” Nayeon pops in.

“Since when do you read academic material for interest?” Minghao mumbles, fingers busy playing with Mika’s hair.

The pair continue to bicker as your eyes trail across the moderately packed house, the party looking more lowbeat than any other Seungcheol extravaganzas. Not that you were complaining, but when you spot a certain someone, it’s hard not to. 

Mingyu files into the kitchen with your brother in tow, beaming face evident over the island as he pours himself what looks like orange juice. Your mood is instantly soured.

“What study was that again?” You poke at Nayeon, the image of the man you wished for gone burned into your forebrain. She glances over to the open kitchen and realises what you’re talking about, coming around with a face of her own.

“That one’s gonna be a hard one to scrub out. But it’s okay, even the toughest stains succumb to bleach that’s strong enough,” she sighs. You’re barely listening to her analogy, not when he’s standing right there rendering it impossible for you to look anywhere else. 

“You sound like a commercial.” You can almost hear the crinkle in Mika’s nose as she comments, and you can’t help but breathe out a laugh. 

The rest continue with their conversation as you remain quiet for most of the exchange, eyes filling your heart heavy with the way they remain glued to the figure far out into the kitchen. It was less about the fact that you just wanted to look at him and more of how it was forcing you to think about your predicament; something that was weighing you down yet something you couldn’t help. 

You can’t be entirely sure how long you managed to stare without getting caught, but when Mika calls your name out harsher than expected, you snap around to divert your attention. 

“Huh?”

“Sixth time’s the charm, huh? Get it together, he’s not gonna look at you,” she huffs as she slumps back onto the beanbag, alone this time as you note that Minghao is gone.

It takes you a moment to gather what she had said, mouth gaping open and close as you try to conspire a proper response. “I wasn’t trying–”

“No. Save it. It was my fault for thinking I could sit here without having to sit through more of your Mingyu bullshit.” She’s shuffling out of her bean bag with mediocre difficulty, exasperation on her face as she trudges away to sit with her boyfriend and his friends on the seats on the middle of the floor. 

The air seems to have knocked out of your chest as you find the capacity to process what just happened. Seemingly forgotten Nayeon was also here, you note the hand she places on your elbow as a sober attempt to get you to look at her. 

The rest of the night passes in a nauseous blur, none that you could really make sense of. You bid Nayeon goodbye as you assured her you’d go home with your brother, waving goodbye to blurred taxi lights as she leaves you alone in front of a dwindling house. 

The breath you let out is shaky as your feet remain planted on the concrete, the remnants of tonight passing over you as they came. Deciding you owed it to yourself, you let the tears well up in your eyes. As tired as you were of crying over what was essentially the same thing over and over again, you let yourself tire yourself out once more. 

The party was over, and you knew that because you were walking home alone, hoping Nayeon would forgive you for lying to her. But you couldn’t possibly explain the tear stains on your cheeks to your brother, not when he knew nothing. It was better that way; you refuse to be the person that potentially ruins a friendship that’s lasted longer than any other.  

You try to keep your sniffling to a minimum as you trudge slowly in the dark, not bothering to wipe your tears. Your stomping grows louder the more you grow frustrated with your thoughts, and it proves not too well for you. There’s a pair of headlights throwing light onto the oncoming street, illuminating you in the process. You want to kick yourself as the realisation settles in, praying the car would simply pass you. Considering the late hour and the fact that you were alone is hitting you at the worst time, wondering if you could pretend to make a call as you walked. 

It’s a black sedan that rolls up next to you, slower than what’s considered a normal speed on an empty street. It honks and you nearly halt, owing to the shake that passes through your knees. It honks again, and you can’t help but look to the side to find a window rolled down. 

Mingyu sits on the driver’s seat, leaning over to the empty passenger side to grab your attention. 

“The Uber’s free! So is the driver,” he yells out the window. “Hop in.”

“I’m alright. I kinda wanna walk.” You shift your weight between your feet, the distance adding an awkward feel. 

“Wasn’t asking. It’s the middle of the night, I’m not letting you walk alone.” As he speaks, another car passes from behind him, slowing down. You note the look the other driver is giving you through the window, and it’s enough to convince you to step into Mingyu’s car. 

“I think we’re way past the point of formalities, don’t know why you hesitated.” He chuckles as he motions for you to click on your seatbelt. You fumble with it for a moment, his own fingers coming to the rescue to latch it on. You retract your fingers before they can brush with his own any further. 

Settling into your seat, you choose to look forward as he picks up speed. “Uhm, just wanted to walk, it was nice outside.”

“Take someone with you next time, it’s nearly midnight,” he warns. 

There’s a twinge of annoyance that emerges in the back of your mind for some reason, despite knowing full well that he was right. You just didn’t want to hear it from him.

It’s silent for a bit as the radio plays an uncharacteristically upbeat tune, prompting you to wonder if it was just you who felt the atmosphere pressing in on your chest.

“Did you not bring your car today?” he asks out of the blue, eyes remaining on the road as you glance up at him. One look at his side profile and you’re turning your gaze away.

“No, it’s at the workshop. I came with Nayeon.” 

“Why didn’t you leave with her?”

“I…” You pause. “I told her I was gonna go with Seok.”

“Hm. That didn’t happen.”

“It’s like I said,” you mumble.

He hums again in response, dropping the subject.

“Listen, are you…are you okay?” he starts again and it has you looking back up at him. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You try to hide the bitterness in your tone but it proves difficult.

“I couldn’t help but overhear but I was sitting right there. Hao was talking to Mika about something she’d said to you, about…” He trails off. “I mean, you looked a little upset, I just wanted to ask if you were okay.”

You bit your tongue. Hard. 

He knew you were staring at him, he knew you weren’t over him. He knew you were still standing on the same square confinement from months ago. Never changed. 

“I’m fine,” you reply, snappier than you had intended. 

“Are you sure? I felt like I should’ve said something but Nayeon was right there so I thought…” He sounds unsure and when you see him look at you, with eyes filled with an emotion that makes you nearly gag, you almost lose it. You did not want him to pity you. Nor care for you; especially when it came from a place that nullifies your feelings. You didn’t want him to care for you for the sole reason that you were his best friend’s sister. 

“Mingyu, I think it’s best if you drop it.”

“Of course. But it might help if you wanna, you know, feel your feelings.” 

Fuck no, you weren’t crying in front of him. Not when you're sure he’s noticed the tear stains on your makeup.

“Mingyu, I said drop it. I don’t need your help, I don’t need to feel anything, I need you stop feeling like you’re obligated to care about me because you’re not.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them, irritation laced in every snap and dent.

He says your name in an attempt to smooth you over. It only lands him in more trouble.

“No, listen, I get it. You’re uncomfortable about everything but you feel like you need to check up on me at the same time, and I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to worry about that. What happened, happened, and it’s my job to pick up the pieces because it’s my fault. You don’t need to meddle.” You’re breathing hard as you finish, finally settling back in your seat. 

He’s already pulling up to your building, heat still penetrating the silence. You unbuckle your seatbelt, mumbling a thanks for the ride. 

“Seok’s staying at Cheol’s tonight,” he calls out as you shuffle out the door. “Remember to lock the door.” 

You stand sheepishly holding the open door as you nod quietly. “I’ll see you tomorrow for the shoot.”

Middle school was harder than you thought. 

Not that you expected it to be easy, but you remained hopeful nonetheless. Fifth grade came plowing for you with an unexpected vigor, which you were feeling especially as you gripped your red marked paper with a vice grip. 

It was Mingyu who had found you on the kitchen island sniffling, waiting for your mother to come home and ask you for your dreaded test results. 

You drop your head in shame (even more so) when he asks you the inevitable question of “what’s wrong?” Your voice comes out as a mumble. “I failed my first test.” 

He blinks as he stops in front of the fridge, opening it to emerge with a carton of chocolate milk and two monsters. He slides the carton over to you as he takes a seat on the other chair. 

“Well, what did you get?” he asks as he pops his can open, ears studded black from the piercings he’d gotten done. 

You mumble out the number in incoherence that has him hunching down to hear you. 

“What?” 

“A fifteen!” you finally huff out in exasperation. 

“Hm. Better than me I think I got a two at some point. Don’t worry about it, it's not the end of the world.” He says. “D’you want me to turn that into a seventy five?” 

You look up confused. “How?”

“You’ll see. Get me your test. And a red marker.” 

On that day, Mingyu aided you in your first con, pulling lines to turn the one into a seven right before your eyes. 

“There. Now don’t let her look at it too hard or check your answers. And only give it to her if she asks for it.” 

He had left back to your brother’s room with the spare can of monster, leaving you to stash your test into your bag and move to seat yourself in a more natural position. You’d gotten away with it as your mother pats you on the back for your first attempt at a fifth grade paper, leaving you with a lesson to work harder, and a memory that stayed with you for years. 

The following day is met with a pit of guilt sitting in your stomach before you could even recall the events of last night. 

There’s little that you can do to prep as you’re supposed to change at the studio anyway, pushing the remnants of your makeup products into a pouch as a second thought. Your hair seemed fine, deciding you’d see to it if it needed changing when you got there. 

You push your departure as far as you could, finding more things to do and more chores to finish before you were due to leave. It takes you a final look at the time before you finally decide to trudge to the door with your things. You cross paths with Seokmin who’s only just coming home, looking worse for wear. He barely acknowledges you as he makes a beeline for his bedroom, disappearing. 

He’s probably fine. 

By the time you get to the studio Mingyu is already in the middle of setting up, immersed in the switches behind giant studio lights. It’s dark, save for the one studio light thats already on, casting a light on the white backdrop, a single stool sits at the front. Looking around, the place casts an eerie atmosphere, the unattended stations and dark back rooms casting a shiver down your spine despite the Afternoon light outside. Perhaps you were acclimated to the hustle and bustle in behind the scene videos of photoshoots, yet here it was just you and Mingyu. 

He doesn’t notice you come in right away, and you’re thankful for the opportunity to recast your words in your head, waiting to be uttered as soon as you say your hellos. 

“Oh, hey,” he says normally. 

“Hope I’m not too late.”

“No, you’re fine, I’m nearly done setting up,” he says, as he switches the second studio light on, doubling the glow in the room. 

“Oh, okay.” Your voice comes out as an uncharacteristic whisper. “Uh, listen, Mingyu, I just wanted to apologize about last night. You were only asking and I was being too harsh.”

He picks up his back from his bent position to look at you, hand coming to rub the back of his neck. “Oh, no, don’t say that, It’s me who should be apologising. I shouldn’t have pried when you said you didn’t wanna talk about it. I’m sorry, really.” 

You're opening your mouth to rebut, nails clashing onto each other as your fidgeting gets worse, but you decide to end it. “We’re both sorry, let’s just end this here.” 

Both of you have slightly uncomfortable smiles on your faces as Mingyu continues to fidget with his cables and equipment. It went smoother than you’d thought, silently thanking him for keeping it from getting awkward – more awkward than necessary anyway. 

“These ones are gonna be basic studies, establishing the usual studio lights in the beginning before we move to the more experimental shots.” He drags his own stool forward to sit directly across from you in front of the plain white backdrop. “Did you bring another black top?”

“I did, do you want me to change?”

“Not yet.” He positions the camera higher, looking like he’s ready. “Okay, relax your body. Shoulders back, chin down. Okay, now a smile, really small, barely there.” 

He snaps his first photo and you nearly knock yourself backwards on the stool, lights going off at the shot damn near blinding you. 

“You good?”

“I thought the flash was just gonna be your camera.” You frown, coming round. 

“Nah, you’ll get used to it. Okay, back in position.”

He takes a couple more pictures, urging you to make miniscule changes to your poses, whatever feels good. You find yourself loosening up, your posture aiding you instead of working against you. “Try putting your hands on the stool, yeah like that, lean forward. Chin up a little more.”

The directions continue from behind the camera as he continues to flash away, and you do your utmost to not let the lights disorient you too much. He lets you take a break when you make a comment about the pure thermal energy in the room, your face no doubt shiny and red from the lights. You’re done after you take a couple more pictures after an outfit change, rendering you free to leave within the hour. 

“I think you’re done,” he announces, stretching as he leaves his own stool. “I’ll send you deets for tomorrow, we’ll probably get a lot more done.”

“Oh, cool.” 

Gathering your stuff doesn’t take you as you go up to tell him you’re about to leave. You find him fiddling with cables, packing everything up before leaving himself. You make a split second decision, dropping your bag before announcing yourself. 

“Let me help.”

“Huh? Oh no, it’s fine. I just need to shove them in storage.” 

“That’s alright, I’ll help. What d’you want me to do?” 

“Uh, Maybe unplug all the ports, and um, turn the lights on too, I guess. It’s gonna get dark if you don’t.”

Cleaning up was easier when those god awful studio lights weren’t overheating the entire hall, collecting cables and putting equipment back into their places. It was over before you knew it. 

“Is your car back from the workshop?” Mingyu yells from inside one of the side rooms collecting his stuff. 

“Not yet, I’m getting it back on the 15th. Ordered a cab.” 

“You’re going home from here, right?” He emerges from the room, arms in the middle of slipping into his jacket. “I’ll drive you.”

“No, it’s fine I have to meet Nayeon at uni and–”

“Even better, I was going there too. Come on, I just need to kill the lights.” 

You’re out of saviours, evident as you slide into his car, yet again with no choice. It’s meant to be a short drive, considering the studio is barely ten minutes away from where you need to be, yet it feels like an impromptu road trip with the way the roads seem to stretch. 

It’s significantly less awkward than last night, perhaps owed to him not being as inclined to make conversation, unlike last night. 

By the time he’s pulling up, you already have your bag in hand, a thank you frozen on your tongue as you register who it is that’s standing outside the library. You groan internally as you see Nayeon waiting for you, immersed in something on her phone. Praying she stays occupied, you rush your, “thanks, I’ll see you tomorrow,” as you hope she doesn’t see you slip out of the familiar car. 

She does notice. Looking up at the sound of yout door opening, she catches clear sight of you stepping out of the car, Mingyu in the driver’s seat. You can tell she’s subdued her reaction, but the eyebrows gives her away as they shoot up at the sight. Trudging up to her is a nightmare and a half, dreading the questions she’s going to ask as you hear Mingyu rev away.

“Are my eyes deceiving me?” she breathes out, eyes wide, mouth open in jest. 

“Quit it, I have work to get done.” You choose to lead her straight into the library where you know she won’t be able to ask you any more probing questions.

That doesn’t seem to sedate her though as she continues to whisper a million questions, watching you pull your stuff out.

“I had a shoot with him today, he offered to drop me off and I couldn’t say no!”

“Oh my gosh!” she exclaims a little too loud, owing a couple nasty surrounding looks her way, including yours. She continues quieter, pulling your laptop away from you so you’d pay more attention to her. “How’d it go? Did you pose all sexy for him, did he look nervous?”

“I did not pose sexy, I posed normally, because I have a conscience,” you snap, yanking your laptop back from her grip. 

She’s smiling like an idiot, unaffected by your annoyance. “Is he gonna drop you off after every shoot? Oh my god! Don’t you dare get your car from the garage, give it to Seokmin, or, or, tell them to keep it!” 

“Nayeon, shush!” It’s your turn to whisper shout at her gradually increasing volume, pushing her to quit leaning over the desks. 

“Okay, okay.” She sobers up.

“I’m supposed to be getting over him, why are you so happy about this? Indifference, remember? It was you who brought it up.”

“Yes, but you can’t tell me it doesn’t look, I don’t know, like, you know!”

Once she’s a little less giddy, you finally tell her about last night – leaving out the bit where he droppped you home for the sake of the library and its inhabitants. 

“I mean, I know we aplogised and everything, but I felt a little less… on fire around him. Other than those stupid studio lights, those were turning the place into a sauna. But I could meet his eyes without hyperventilating,” you explain, eyes downcast as you speak. 

“I imagine his eyes were covered with that camera anyway, but progress, I guess,” Nayeon comments.

“Maybe I needed to get mad at him to feel better, I don’t know. But it feels like I’m making progress for the first time.” 

“I told you this would be good for you, give it a couple more weeks and it’ll be like Mingyu never happened.” 

It takes a conscious attempt to not scoff. Like Mingyu never happened to your heart. That’s a heart you can’t recognise. 

The first time Seokmin had brought girls over was a day you couldn’t forget, no matter how hard you tried. 

You were padding down to the kitchen, still bleary eyed and pyjama clad from your nap, making a beeline for the fridge to get a glass of water. Your trip is cut short, however, when you realised the living room was not as empty as you expected. It’s a crowd (to your eleven year old self, anyway) of people your brother’s age. You catch a couple familiar faces, friends of your brother who visited often, Mingyu is part of the lumps on the couch with them. 

What stumped you, however, were the girls that were seated in between, eyes equally trained on you as everyone else in the room. 

“Oh, who’s this Seok?” one of the girls asked. 

“My little sister. D’you wanna say hi?” he asked you, neck craned to look at you. 

“Uh. Hi,” you whisper, gulping. 

There’s a chorus of hi’s that came bounding at you. You could feel the embarrassment creep up your entire body, feeling conscious for the first time in your life. They were staring at you. They were smiling, but you hated it. 

You weren’t thinking as you turned around to sprint back upstairs, not missing the tinkle of laughs coming from the living room. 

“Oh, she’s cute,” you had heard. That had you nearly starting to cry. 

You’d be lying if you said your little crush on Mingyu hadn’t started blossoming for a while at that point. Being younger meant you were constantly fighting to be seen, even more so when you’d do anything for Mingyu to look at you. Hogging your brother’s bean bag until you were kicked out, putting sparkly clips in your hair before you went to the kitchen, laughing especially loud when you knew he could hear.

And yet, despite everything, for the very first time, you hated that Mingyu was looking at you, watching you idle and awkward while he sat next to a bunch of prettier, older girls. 

That night was of many firsts, including the first time you had ever cried over Mingyu.

Mingyu claimed this was the last shoot, that he’d be done after this final set of shots. 

You’re having a hard time though, because he’s decided his studio for the day was gonna be at the top of a mountain at the asscrack of dawn. 

“We have fifteen minutes,” he announces. 

“To live?” You heave, crouching on the gravel to give your body a break. 

“Till sunrise,” he interjects, reversing to get to your crouched figure. You feel him grab hold of the straps of your bag, swinging it over his own shoulder. “Come on, just a little more.”

“You’ve been saying that for an hour.” You groan, picking yourself up off the path to resume your trudging. Mingyu stays next to you this time. 

“Did you pack your entire house in here, the fuck is this so heavy for,” he grunts. 

“You're the one asking for a bajillion outfit changes, I’m just doing what you asked.” 

“One change of clothes and a compact doesn’t weigh this much, are you disposing a body up here?” 

“Might be yours if I don't see that damn railing in a minute.” 

“I think you're hungry,” he huffs out. 

“I think I need to never agree to do this again.” 

“Salavation!” he yelps as he sees a vending machine in the distance, quite literally glowing (with its fluorescent lights). 

“I don’t need a water bottle, Mingyu, I need to lie down.” Your voice grows more gruff by the minute, legs nearly giving away. 

“No, the vending machine means…” He bounds up the last couple leaps to the glowing box with a burst of motivation. The slope turns flat at the horizon. “We’re here.” 

Nearly falling to your knees at the sight of the long awaited arrival point, you drop to a nearby bench and lay flat on the stiff wood. 

“How long till I need to look presentable? Because if it’s anything under thirty minutes, I’m tapping out.” You declare. 

“I can give you five minutes, take it or leave it.” He barely sits down as he speaks while already unzipping his camera bag. The thought of lifting your arms is excruciating, so you rest your tongue and bite back a whine. 

By the time you do find it within yourself to swing your legs back over the bench, the sky is shifting to a smoky navy, urging you to hurry up as you dry your sweat. You’re cringing as you press powder on your unclean face, but power through the final touches as you stretch while standing up straight.  

The first rays of sunlight are just coming through as Mingyu calibrates his lenses, trying to figure out the best shots in the limited time frame you have. You listen to him as he directs you where he wants you, contorting your face into something akin to faux serene. It’s near impossible when the frown has molded itself into your face after what you’ve put your body through today. 

“Think happy thoughts.” Mingyu calls out from behind his camera. 

“Oh, I’m thinking real happy thoughts. Like the ice cold shower I’m about to take when I get home. My clean bed that’s gonna be nice to me when I lay in it. The leftover pasta in the fridge. My moonpies.”

He has to bring his face away from the camera to throw his head back in a breathy laugh, smile as wide as it could go. It does things to you, but you ignore it. 

The summit isn’t entirely empty, noting a few people leaning against the railings, rendering it mostly quiet. All the more jarring becomes Mingyu’s phone as it blares into the silence, causing the both of you to jump at the sudden sound. 

He checks the caller ID only to silence it and slip it back into his pocket. 

You don’t get to ask who it was calling him so early in the morning, but get your answer when he immediately announces he’s done with his shots. The sun is higher up at this point, casting a more even orange glow across all the eye could see. 

You suppose he’s in a hurry to get home, seeing as he has someone waiting on him. “Should we leave then?” 

He swings the camera strap around his neck, forearms on the railing as he admires the view. “Give it a couple more minutes, I need to mentally prepare myself for the next hour.” 

It’s hard for you to deny that, so you let yourself place your head into your crossed arms over the railing, staring into the glow. It’s silent for a while as the rays hit your face, warming you more than you’d like. You don’t make any effort to move though, deciding to appreciate the view while it was here, doubting you’d ever make the trek up here again. Not willingly, at least. 

There’s a camera shutter that goes off next to you and you find Mingyu fidgeting with his camera as he tries to begin packing it up. You would help, but you’ve found yourself refraining from touching anything when it comes to his actual camera setup, opting to watch as he disassembles his lenses and pushes buttons to power off. 

By the time you're trudging down the path you’d come up from, it’s bright and sunny, rendering it warmer than before. Going down, however, is proving easier as you appreciate the reduced strain in your calves, letting the recent conversation take you to a smoother route. 

“When d’you think your gonna be done editing?” You ask at some point, the thought occurring to you that you’d only seen a couple pictures that he’d taken so far, oweing to his disapproval showing you all the raws before editing. 

“Kinda have to get them edited and annotated by the due date, so probably by the end of the month.” 

“D’you think I could get the ones you edit?” 

“Why? D’you wanna kickstart a portfolio?” he muses.

“I think it’s normal to ask for my pictures you took of me,” you grunt.

He laughs it off. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll send them over.” 

Mingyu doesn’t drop you off home this time, both of you slipping into your own cars at the base of the hiking trail, bidding your goodbyes. You’d gotten an earful from Nayeon for getting your car back from the garage so quickly, and while sitting in a car with him wasn’t so bad anymore, you choose to retain that distance regardless. This was work, You’re doing this because you have to, and the stupid extra credit that roped you into this in the first place.

Alas, as you start your engine, eyes cast towards Mingyu’s number plate right up front, you can’t help but feel…sad… remembering this was your last shoot. As emotionally vexing the experience was, you had grown to look forward to his discreet location pins and outfit plans, growing more comfortable with him by the meeting. 

It almost felt like you and Mingyu were friends. 

Your brother’s graduation was an ordeal to say the least. Your parents flying in was a plus, getting to see them at least once for the summer, even if it was just for the day. 

The night is wrapped up fairly quickly, a big dinner with yours and Mingyu’s family to congratulate the freed graduates from their academic shackles. It dials back when Mingyu announces he’s gonna take a summer course for now to keep himself busy, wanting to wait a little before job hunting. Seokmin seems to express the same, wanting some time off for himself before entering the corporate world.

It’s when you get home and your brother is sending you all the pictures of today that you note one that stands out. It was of you and Mingyu, an inevitable one as your parents took turns to make sure everybody got solo shots with everyone.

You’d applaud the enthusiasm, but it was particularly unfortunate for you when the camera was thrust into your hands as Mingyu and Jia posed for nearly fifty pictures. You wouldn’t mind usually, but it just felt like a little too much in the moment.

Despite everything, you find yourself clicking on the Save button on the picture where you’re smiling a little too wide right next to him, for the sake of yourself.

Summer break rolls around with no more hiccups, if you’d count finals as anything other than strenuous. You were happy, with a new job to keep you company for the next three months as you lament not being able to go home. 

Getting the job at the bookstore was easy, your shifts were reasonable and it didn’t pay half bad. You would’ve guessed they were desperate for a hire, but you appreciate the activity regardless. It’s not really hard work, you find out quickly. Manning the desk, shelving deposits and restocking supplies. Monotonous tasks yet ones that you find yourself slipping into quite easily.

After the last shoot at the mountain, it was basically radio silence from Mingyu. Not being able to catch him the rare chance he stopped by the house, both of you swamped with the end of semester throw up. You doubt he’d noticed, and you despair at the fact that you did, even if it was just a little. 

“Oh, great, you’re here!” The owner greets you as you walk into the store, all smiles. She was a sweet lady, nicer than any other boss you’d ever had. “Was just waiting for you so I could leave, my daughter has a play she’s putting on today!” 

“Oh, sorry to keep you!” You rush to set your bag down as she picks up her own things, coming around from the table to take her leave. “Hope the recital goes well, tell her I said good luck.”

“Will do.” She smiles before adding, “Oh and, somebody called an hour ago asking about our book bundles, he said he’d come in to check but he hasn’t yet. Thought I’d let you know in case he asks about the phone call.”

“Got it,” you confirm, waving as she walks out the door, “I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

Breathing out a sigh, you find yourself relatively free this afternoon, a slow weekday as you pick your current read out of your bag to get comfortable for the long shift. You’re nearly through the halfway point when you hear the first jingle of the day, the bells attached to the door making their familiar chime

“Good afternoon!” You look up to greet the customer, dog earring your book before standing up from your seat.

The person who’d walked in wasn’t just any customer, you soon realise as you recognise the familiar shag of hair. Mingyu was here. 

“Oh.” You can’t help but let it out when you register him, his own eyebrows shooting up at the sight of you behind the counter. Your next greeting comes out a little dumbly. “Hi.”

“Hey. What’re you doing here?” he asks, eyebrows furrowed as he takes you in. 

“Um,” you glance at your obvious name tag. “I work here.” 

“Oh, right, Seok mentioned you started working at a bookstore.” He throws his head back at the memory. “Hey, was it you over the phone earlier today? Didn’t sound like it.”

“Oh no, that was my boss, my shift started like an hour ago.” You confirm. 

“Ah, I see.” 

The silence is awkward for about five seconds before you jump into action. “You asked about a bundle over the phone?” 

“Right, um,” he pauses to fish his phone out his pocket, scrolling for something. “It’s Jia’s birthday coming up, and there’s this book series she’s been wanting. Here.”

You need to remind yourself to pat yourself on the back for not shaking as you received his phone, mind remaining in the moment. “Oh yeah, we have those. Let me grab ‘em for you.” 

He follows you through the columns of shelves as you navigate to find what he was looking for, stopping in front of the shelves. “There’s three of these, I can put them in a sleeve for you. Probably put a bow on it too if you want.” 

“Okay, perfect. Do you guys have LP’s too?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah. Hold on, let me put these up front.” 

You lead him to the back of the store. “The selection’s pretty small, the first shipment only came in like a month ago. I’m not sure if you’ll find what you want here.” 

“She’s been talking about getting more LP’s after she got a new record player. Hasn’t mentioned anything she wants though,” he voices, thumbing through the selection. 

“What does she listen to normally?” You ask before quickly adding, “So I can, maybe, help pick something she’d like.”

“Uh, older stuff? I should’ve snooped before coming, fuck.” He mumbles, thinking hard. “She barely plays it when I’m around but most of her LP’s are like Frank Sinatra and…Duran Duran was it?”  

“Hm…” You hum as you flick through the dated section of the stockpile, “How’s this?’

He’s taking a look at the record you’ve handed him, scanning the tracklists on the back. “I’ll get this, I guess. I can always bring her around to get more that she likes.” 

“D’you want a bow on this?” You ask, referring to the books you’re putting into the set sleeve, “You can pick your colour.”

He’s quick to pick the lilac ribbon, watching you as you tape it prettily on the box. You’re trying to curl the ribbon at the ends when he tries to make conversation. 

“When does your shift end?” 

If the man wasn’t quite literally buying a birthday present for his girlfriend (or if you had any memory of your own birthday), you’d think he was trying to hit on you. But he’s not. You know that. 

“Ten-ish. Closing’s on me so I could technically leave an hour early and no one would know.” You snort.

“Everyday?” he asks incredulously. 

“Minus weekends, the family takes care of that. They just need someone for afternoons and evenings on the weekdays. It’s not like I’m taking summer classes or anything, and it’s easy work.” 

“Well, you’ll be pleased to find out you’ll most likely be available on the 27th of August, then.” He sing songs as he fishes his phone out to pay, a cheeky air in his expression.

You blink at him in confusion, waiting for him to explain. “Was I supposed to get that?”

He pushes his shoulders back, content expression on his face as he continues. “There’s a cultural art exhibition in two months, and I, have just found out I’ve been shortlisted for a spot.” 

“A spot? Like to display your photos?!” You drop the card machine with a thud.

“Your photos. Prof liked the project so much she submitted some of ‘em as entries. It was super short notice, but they liked them, I guess.” His grin is wide, one that you find impossible to not reciprocate. “I just need you to sign a consent form and I’ll be all set to start prepping.” 

“That’s insane, Mingyu, congratulations!” You exclaim, genuinely excited. “Are you gonna be using the same pictures?”

“Yup, I just need to fix the editing with my prof before they go up. You’re the first to find out, I just got out of the meeting.” 

There’s a mix of hesitation before you utter your next proposal, a split second of bewilderment at what you were about to suggest. “Come over tonight, we can celebrate with Seok. Bring Jia along too, we can celebrate an early birthday.” 

“I’ll see, she might be taking a bus home tonight for the weekend, might have to bother you by myself.”

The ache in your cheeks didn’t stop until well after Mingyu had left with his cargo, the elated feeling remaining for even longer after the fact. There was a point where it took you convincing to rid yourself of another intrusive, uneasy feeling, like you were taking a step back by being happy at his announcement. 

It was, however, safe to call Mingyu a friend. Safe to be happy for him. Safe to have your heart swell at his achievement, having watched him work hard for it.

It was safe to feel.

This was horrible. 

Truly. 

You were trying to ignore it, the strange thumping noises coming from under your car, like it would go away if you pretended to not hear. There was a sliver of hope for you, barely five minutes away from home that you’d make it before your tire decided it had enough of trying to grab your attention. 

But then it started screeching, and you had to stop before you caused a road fire.

“Tire? Didn’t you get them changed like last month?” Seokmin asks over the phone.

“Didn’t know new tires were immune to industrial blades, too. Are you gonna tell me I got ripped off?” 

“Mingyu has a scissor jack, I’ll tell him to come to you.”

“Wait! You have a scissor jack, too! Why can’t you come?” You sputter at the sound, glancing at the 21:42 on the dial. 

“He has my scissor jack, he’ll change it for you.” He grits back. “Besides, I’m not letting this face pack go to waste I just put it on.” 

“Seok!” 

“Stay in the car, lock the doors till he gets there.” He grounds.

“Seokmin!” 

Beep. 

The bastard hung up. 

“Ugh!” you break from a tightened jaw, slamming the car door shut with passion as you huff into your seat, waiting for Mingyu. 

Was Mingyu busy at 10:30 PM on a weekday? He was, actually.

He’d scrambled to finish up the last of his meeting with his professor, wrapped up in planning for the exhibition despite the two month time frame he’d been given. Exhibitions were a lot of paperwork, as he was finding out as he sweet talks Jia over the phone, promising to be with her within the next five minutes. Well, ten maybe, he has to grab butter from the store.

She sits on the kitchen counter as Mingyu makes her favourite. A strenuous task, but he’s willing to go through the double frying to make up for the time he’s lost. It’s not until he’s doing the post dinner dishes while Jia’s picking a movie in the living room that he’s met with another dilemma to handle. 

He’s deflating as he stands, phone to ear as he listens to Seokmin about your situation. Glancing at the near 10:30 PM hand on the clock, he finds it difficult to refuse, especially when he’s told you’re alone and stranded on a highway. He thinks to Jia in the living room as he tells Seokmin he’s leaving the house to get to you.

He’d only be gone for barely 20 minutes. He’s changed plenty of tires, this should be quick and easy. 

Slipping into the living room is easy, wrapping his arms around Jia from behind is even easier. It’s when he has to open his mouth that he begins to falter. Twenty minutes, he reminds himself.

“I have two I’ve heard are really good, you can pick which one we watch first,” she voices as she fluffs the pillows on the couch, ready to tuck in for the rest of the night. 

“Babe?” 

She spins around in his arms, coming up to fluff his flat hair too. “Hm?” 

“Seok just called…”

Her face falls as he talks despite his best attempts to assure her he won’t be long. 

“Twenty minutes?” she parrots, wanting his word. 

“Fifteen.” 

Whether Mingyu would keep his word is something he’d find out, but you had kept your word to Seokmin, staying in the car, doors locked till you saw Mingyu’s car pull up behind you in the rearview. The wretched scissor jack that’s caused all of this sits in his own boot as he yanks it out to bring it over to your car, where you stand arms crossed, face dejected. 

“Were you waiting long?” He asks as he immediately crouches to fit the jack where he wants it. 

“No, not really,” you reply. “I’m sorry you had to come all the way out here, if only Seok remembered to take the stupid scissor jack–”

“No, no, it’s okay. I wasn’t doing anything.” Lies. But you already sounded apologetic and he didn’t wanna hear you apologize any further.  

“No, it’s not okay. The idiot’s relaxing with a stupid face mask on while you have to come out here and change a fucking tire, God, you have class tomorrow too, don’t you?” 

“Not until the afternoon, I’m in the clear.” He springs up from his crouched position, pulling the jack with him. “Open the boot.” 

Placing the scissor jack in your boot, he continues, a little breathless. “There, I’ll tell Seokmin I left it in your car. Or, you could do that.” 

“Thanks, Mingyu. Really.” 

He does nothing but flash a smile, doing his best to convince you you weren’t an inconvenience before having to see your apologetic face again. “Alright, I wanna see you drive off before I leave, go on.” 

By the time Mingyu’s slamming the door of the house shut, it’s eighteen minutes on the dot. Jia doesn’t say much, excited to have him back in her arms. 

“Wait!” he suddenly yelps, once he’s tucked in with her. 

“What now?” she groans. 

Mingyu’s bounding back to his bedroom, emerging a few moments later with a dark paper bag. He goes back to sit next to her on the couch, sliding the bag and its contents towards her.

“Here. We’re not gonna be together for your birthday, might as well give you your present the night before you leave.” His eyes are glinting, hopeful.

Jia expresses her thank you’s commenting on the ribbon and his LP choice, grinning widely.

Your name comes tumbling out of Mingyu’s mouth before he can stop himself. “She helped me pick it out!” 

“You…took her with you?” She asks after a moment.

“She worked at the store! I didn’t know till I went there either.” Mingyu’s voice grows increasingly enthusiastic, seemingly unaware that his girlfriend was growing slightly irritated. “I’ll take you there when you get back, the selection’s small but she’ll probably help you pick out something you’d like. I only had to give her like two names before she figured it out.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” she comments, tight smile on her lips as she collects the book sleeve and the LP, placing them back into the bag and leaving them on the floor next to her.

Mingyu is blissfully unaware of the fuel he’s added to growing embers, munching away on his popcorn, eyes trained on the TV and its stimulating colours. 

“I was talking to Jihyo the other day, super random but it came up while we were talking about you,” Jia starts experimentally. 

“Huh?” He has her attention. And when she mentions your name, the part of him that’s always wondered when she’d bring it up comes out of dormancy. 

“She said she…I don’t know, she said she liked you at some point, Like a lot, and for a while.” Jia sounds unsure, like she didn’t know if it was a good idea to bring you up. 

Mingyu sighs as he rears himself for the inevitable conversation. “It’s—well, it was—just puppy love. I was around all the time and I guess she latched, I don’t know.”

Jia pauses, eyes remanging trained on the movie. “Does it make you uncomfy? That she liked you? Maybe she still does.” 

“It doesn’t matter, does it? I’m around Seok which means I’m sometimes around her by default. Can’t help it. I mean, the photography thing kinda just happened but, I don’t really care. And she seems over it.” 

Mingyu is rambling. He can feel it. Which is why he tries to end the conversation right there, tone nonchalant as he hopes the topic breezes past. 

It doesn’t. 

“You seemed pretty adamant in leaving, though.”

“Huh?”

“When she called just now.”

“Seok called, I had his scissor jack!”

“Why couldn’t he have grabbed it for you and helped his sister himself? He has a car too.”  Jia’s paused the movie at this point, moving away from his arm she was leaning on, shifting to look at him fully. 

“It would’ve taken him forever, she was alone in the middle of a highway at nearly eleven, you wanted me to leave her there?” Mingyu finds the conversation ridiculous, and it shows in the irritation that rises in his own voice. 

“Mingyu, you can’t be upset with me right now,” she breathes out exasperated. 

“I’m not? I get that you’re upset, I haven’t been around as much but you also know what this exhibition means to me. I need to put everything I have into this and it’s only for a couple months–”

“Mingyu, it’s not just the exhibition!” 

“Jia, I can’t know if you don’t tell me what’s really bothering you, talk to me.” Mingyu’s begging at this point, wondering how it’s come to this in the first place. 

“You can’t expect me to be okay with you going around wherever, whenever, when I know what kind of lifestyle you’ve come out of not even six months ago!” 

Mingyu had come a long way from his galvanizing tendencies, doing absolutely everything he could to convince Jia he was serious about her. Unfortunately, this was not the first time his past had been brought up; in an argument or in a light hearted setting, and he wasn’t particularly fond of it. 

“Are we in six months ago? Are you saying I’ve done nothing substantial for you to think I’m still fucking around? Either give me an instance or figure out what the real issue is!” 

There’s a plaster of suffocation in the room, neither soul speaking a word. Until Jia finally speaks. “I wanna go home.”

It didn’t matter to Mingyu if she was expecting him to grovel, to ask her to stay and talk about this further. It was clear she wasn’t about to talk about anything pertinent at all, and definitely not tonight. He was tired, and frankly wanted to be alone right now.

“Fine.” 

Silence penetrates all of his air for the entire car ride up until he’s entering his apartment for the third time that day. Not bothering to clean up the living room, he thinks he does himself a service so as to not be reminded of the past couple hours. He’s casting the place in complete darkness before moving to his room. Might as well get some work done. 

There’s a conscious effort to not start slamming things, he succeeds mostly, his graphic tablet receiving the short end of the stick. Turning on his monitor, he’s met with his ongoing project still brought up on the screen.

It’s a picture of you. One he took in a greenhouse off the outskirts of the city, something you complained about extensively as the heat ruined both your mood and your hair. You were smiling regardless; a wide, happy smile as you looked into the camera, petunia’s and dahlia’s framing an illusion around your figure.

Mingyu feels the tension in his muscles begin to relax, his breathing evening out after what felt like hours. He becomes almost excited to pick up his stylus and work on the photo, the set up allowing him to dive right in. There was barely any work left, moving on as he finishes the photo and saves it. 

It isn’t until he happens to click on the the last folder, the one where you both caught the sunrise after a strenuous hike. He can’t help but break into a hint of a smile at the memory of your broken figure at the pathway, cursing him for bringing you here so early in the morning. The pictures had come out good, especially when Mingyu opens a particular photo at the bottom of the folder, an extra from his initial round of editing for his actual project. 

It’s of you (of course) with your chin tucked into your arms as you gaze at the scene from up above, beyond the railing. The sun is up higher at that point, but the cast remains as the top half of your face that wasn’t tucked in your arms is lit in an orange glow, eyes glistening like stars during the day, wide and beautiful. 

Mingyu remembers the shot. It was an accident.

In an attempt to fiddle with the settings to turn off the camera, he ended up snapping a picture instead. The distinct click was noticed, never bothering to check what came out of it when he stuffed his camera back into his bag, nor when he sifted through his SD card. 

It was like he was seeing the picture in a new light, and the potential it had to become something worth ogling at. He wonders what had come over him when he had placed the photo as a secondary option without another thought, lamenting at what could’ve been his actual final piece. 

He stares and stares, attempting to draw maps of color rendering in his mind, yet all that comes up is his eyes zeroing in on your own. How they glisten. How they sparkle.

Part 2

[wolfjackle-creates]

Answer My Call

As promised, this is the first chapter of @gilbirda's Wrong Number AU all fixed up. A lot of it is the same as the original version, but a lot has changed. It went from 3,059 words to 5,392. I'm gonna try and get somewhere with the next chapter of this, but no promises on time-frame. Also working on transferring at least the first chapter of all my WIPs over to AO3. This'll be the only time I tag a bunch of people for this as I'm gonna set up subscription posts.

Find the original prompt and fill here.

Find the Subscription Post here.

And the AO3 version here (locked to logged in users, reach out if you need an invite).

Story Summary: Jazz, Sam, and Tucker manage to help Danny escape the GIW, but they can't follow him and are under too much surveillance to communicate with each other. Sam snuck Danny a phone as he ran and Jazz sends him a text every day, hoping to hear he is all right. But he's not the one getting the texts.

Jason was away for several months on a mission with the Outlaws. When he finally returns home, he is surprised to find dozens of messages from an unknown number begging a Danny to tell her he's okay. Looks like there's not going to be a break between missions this time around.

----------

Jazz sat in a Nasty Burger booth and stared at her food. She'd ordered Danny's favorite, but her stomach was so in knots she didn't think she could eat.

All of this was her parent’s fault. If they weren’t so close minded and horrible, if they’d just accepted they were wrong…

Her circling thoughts were interrupted by a balled up napkin landing on the table next to her tray. Jazz was half to her feet ready to yell at whomever threw their trash at her when she saw Sam in a frilly yellow dress walking to the counter with her grandmother.

Huffing as if annoyed, Jazz settled back down and straighted the napkin. In messier-than-normal writing, Sam had scrawled the message:

I got him an old phone before he ran. His number is XXX-XXX-XXXX.

As surreptitiously as she could, she pulled out her own phone and saved the number to the encrypted folder Tucker had set up. Then she destroyed the napkin by soaking it in her unfinished pop and throwing her entire tray away, uneaten food and all.

Well, there was nothing else she could do in Amity. Might as well start the long drive back to Boston.

Upon reaching the edges of town, however, she realized leaving wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought. A GIW checkpoint had been set up and all incoming and outgoing traffic was being questioned.

Two agents approached her car before she could turn around and try a different way out. She did make them knock on her window before deigning to lower it just an inch, however. After what they’d done to Danny, she would never willingly play along with their games again.

“Ms. Fenton,” said the agent as soon as she realized she wasn’t going to open the window any further, “we need to search yourself and your vehicle. You are a known ecto-entity sympathizer and are suspected of assisting in the escape of subject P1. Vacate your vehicle immediately.”

“All I did was come back to my hometown to find my missing brother. I’ll need to see a warrant before you search my car.”

“Ms. Fenton, I don’t think you understand the situation. Due to the escape of the highly dangerous specimen P1, the town is under our a state of emergency. Mayor Masters has instated martial law to ensure the safety of all citizens. You can either vacate your car or you will be under arrest.” He grabbed a packet of papers from an inner pocket of his suit jacket and pushed one end through the crack in Jazz’s window.

Jazz took them and skimmed. The agent wasn’t lying; anyone caught breaking curfew or suspected of harboring or otherwise assisting a ghost would be arrested without bail immediately. All because her brother escaped that torture chamber. She stepped out of the car.

It took over an hour for the agents to search every inch of her car, purse, and luggage and convince themselves she didn’t have Danny hidden away somewhere. By the time she was allowed to go on her way, her jaw hurt from how hard she was clenching her teeth and her eyes stung with tears.

She hated Vlad. And the Guys in White. And the US Government. But finally she was free to leave.

And then she realized the white van was following her out of city limits. Really? Was she going to have to deal with them tailing her, too?

She ground her teeth and eased up on the gas pedal, moving to the right lane. Her father had taught her how to drive, but she’d learned better from the internet and recorded driver’s ed classes. She followed the speed limit exactly, only changing lanes to pass or allow others to merge on. Through it all, her focus remained on the white van behind her. She recognized Agent O as the driver.

Every so often his attention would slip and he’d wind up closer to her than intended. And then, finally, forty-five minutes after she started her perfect driving, she saw him yawn.

“Eat dust, creep!” Jazz shouted as she slammed her foot on the gas and jerked the steering wheel to swerve into the next lane. A chorus on horns followed her as she crossed the median and began going in the opposite direction. She had learned some things from her dad.

Two exits closer to Amity, she got off the highway and stopped at a Target for a burner phone which she activated at a local library. Then she got back on the highway east.

To her satisfaction, it took Agent O three hours to find her again.

-----

That night at a motel in who-knows-where Pennsylvania, Jazz double checked the locks on the door and that the curtains were closed before pulling out her new phone.

Her fingers trembled as she typed a message and sent it to the number Sam had given her.

Hey, Danny, it’s Jazz. Sam passed on the number for the phone she gave you before we were all separated. Please let me know you’re safe. Love you.

Jazz stared at the phone, hoping for a reply.

She woke with the phone clutched to her chest, but no new messages. Her breath caught and then she was curled around the phone crying.

“Danny, you’d better be okay,” she mumbled through her sobs.

But then her main phone alarm went off and Jazz forced herself up from the bed and into the shower. She could get through this. She had to.

An hour later, with her makeup applied and secret phone well hidden in her bag, she was back in her car and getting on the highway, a white van keeping pace behind her.

That night she was back in her dorm room in Boston. Her roommate tried to ask her questions about how her trip home went, but Jazz brushed off the concern. If she’d been honest, her roommate wouldn’t know how to reply anyway.

Instead, she waited until the other girl was taking a shower to pull out the burner phone and send another message.

Made it back to Boston. They’re following me now. Please don’t come here. It’s not safe. I know they’re keeping close tabs on Sam and Tucker, too. But they don’t know about this phone. Love you. Let me know you’re safe.

The next day, she got a phone call from an unknown Amity number during her Literature class. With a hurried apology to the professor, she gathered her supplies up and rushed out of the classroom as she answered the phone.

“Jazz speaking.”

“Hello, Ms. Fenton. My name is Detective Ramirez. I’m calling regarding your brother, Daniel—“

“Danny,” Jazz corrected automatically. “He prefers Danny.”

“Right, Danny. It appears he’s missing.”

Jazz’s breath hitched. She knew that, of course. But hearing a stranger say it so bluntly hit different. She walked faster, there was a single stall bathroom just a floor up.

“His teacher, a Mr. Lancer, reported his disappearance yesterday and your parents admitted they didn’t know his location either when we went to check on him. Do you know where he may be?”

“I don’t.” Finally, there was the bathroom. She rushed in and shut the door behind her, locking it before sliding to the ground. “Have— Have you figured out how long he’s been missing?”

“Near as we can tell, it’s been a week. Do you know why your parents wouldn’t have reported him missing?”

Jazz let out a mirthless laugh. “Are you from Amity, detective?”

A pause, then he said, “I am.”

“Then you know my parents. They were probably too busy trying to torture a ghost to notice Danny.”

“Would it be possible for you to stop by the station to answer some questions?”

“I’m in Boston for school, detective. You can come here or I can answer any questions you have on the phone. I will not be going back to Amity unless it is to see Danny.”

“Very well. Did your brother have any motivation to or history of running away?”

And so began an hour long interrogation. Jazz played her part to perfection. She cried, she begged, but she didn’t give him anything.

That night, after her roommate went to bed, she sent another text.

A detective called today to see if I might know where you are. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell him anything. Maybe next time I’ll let slip some lies, send the GIW on a wild goose chase. Love you. Let me know you’re safe.

It became a ritual. Every day she’d keep her head down and go about her classes ignoring the agents following her and once a day when she could guarantee her privacy, she’d send another text to Danny. Each one ended the same way.

It’s been a week since you escaped. Did you make it to the realms? Love you. Let me know you’re safe. The detective actually came all the way to Boston to interview me. Can you believe it? I cried on him and begged him to find you and may have mentioned how much you loved visiting Aunt Alicia who lived off the grid. Hopefully that’ll distract them. Love you. Let me know you’re safe. Agent K tried to wait for me outside my Psych class today. I just met his eyes and glared until he said something into his walkie talkie and left. Love you. Let me know you’re safe. Today is your birthday and you're still not responding to me. I don't know what I'll do if you die a second time on me. Love you, let me know you're safe. Sam, Tucker, and I can't talk. We're under too close of surveillance. I think Sam is being home schooled now and Tucker got a scholarship and his parents sent him away from Amity. I don't know if it was the GIW or Vlad, but promise me you won't return to Amity. Love you, let me know you're safe. I got a call from the detective. They've basically given up the search. Of course they couldn't find you. I guess mom and dad made the call to have you declared dead. You're funeral is next week. Strangest part about this is it's 3 years too late. Love you, let me know you're safe. Dani was able to visit today. She’s safe and trying to find a way to the realms. We worked on finding ways to mask her ecto-signature and we’re finally happy with the results. I think she’ll be safe now. Love you. Let me know you’re safe.

Jazz didn’t mention how the study room they’d been practicing in was raided by GIW agents less than twenty minutes after Dani had left.

I’m back in Amity. Your funeral is tomorrow. I hate it here. I hate even more how much it still feels like home. Love you. Let me know you’re safe. They didn’t even show up. Love you. Let me know you’re safe. I miss you so much. I hate how useless I am. I’m not you. I can't build a portal or boo-merang to search for you. You'd better come home soon. Love you, let me know you're safe.

-----

The first thing Jason did upon returning to his Gotham apartment was shower. The second was sleep for a solid eleven hours.

And when he woke up, he made himself a huge breakfast, reveling in the opportunity to put a kitchen through it’s paces for the first time in months.

But the first non-essential thing he did was plug in his phone and turn it on. After months away, his notifications would be insane and he wanted to be rested and full before bothering to skim through the family group chats.

Unsurprisingly, his messaging app showed over two thousand unread texts. What was surprising, however, was that 71 of those were from an unknown number.

He opened that thread first and skimmed the most recent message.

Agent K tried to pull me aside to question me and search my bag twenty minutes before an exam. Asshole almost made me miss it! But I managed to run and got to my classroom just in time. Love you. Let me know you’re safe.

Jason raised an eyebrow and scrolled to the top of the thread. By the time he’d finished reading, his vision was tinted green.

Looked like he wasn’t going to have those relaxing few days before his next big case.

With a sigh he turned on his laptop and searched Amity. All he could find was a generic government website proclaiming it “The Most Haunted Town in America!” Every link on the page was broken when he tried to click it.

He ground his teeth and searched for “GIW” and “Agent K.” Neither yielded any useful results either.

By five o’clock he was nearly ready to scream in frustration and the green wasn’t leaving the edges of his vision. Looks like he was going to need backup.

He stomped out of his apartment, got on his motorcycle, and ignored all speed limits as he rushed through Gotham.

Traffic and noise decreased the further from Gotham proper he got until city streets were replaced by McMansions with their fancy landscaping and long drives.

He continued until he got to B’s home and made his way up the long drive. Though he quickly turned to the smaller path that lead to the kitchen entrance rather than continue up to the main doors.

After cutting the engine, he continued to sit on the bike for a moment as he stared at the door to the kitchen. Was he really going to do this?

He closed his eyes and phrases from the desperate texts filled his mind. With a deep breath he stood up and walked through the door.

As expected half an hour before dinner, Alfred was in the kitchen getting everything ready.

“Master Jason!” he exclaimed. “Give me just a moment.”

Jason watched with a slight smile as Alfred stirred the gravy and lowered the temperature. “Hey, Alfie.”

Alfred made his way towards Jason and pulled him into a hug. “Welcome home, my boy.”

“Got in yesterday. There enough food for one more? Who else is around?”

“There’s always enough food for you. Now, help me stir the vegetables. Masters Bruce, Damian, Duke, and Tim are all home.”

Jason hummed as he got to work helping with the last of dinner prep. “Is the replacement up to anything big right now? I was thinking of asking for his expertise on something.”

Alfred clicked his tongue. “You’ve only just returned from an extended mission. I haven’t even had the chance to check you over for new injuries yet. Can’t you rest for even a day?”

“Come on, Alfie. Don’t you know us better than that by now? No rest for the wicked as they say!”

Alfred gave him a Look. “You are hardly wicked, Master Jason.”

Jason looked back down at the vegetables he was helping with. “I think these are done. And you know I wouldn’t ask Replacement a favor unless it was important.”

“I know you know his name is Timothy,” Alfred said as he passed Jason a bowl. “But he is not working on anything time sensitive at the moment that I know of.”

“And you know everything.”

“Hardly. Now, help me set the table.”

Jason did as instructed and the two fell into an old routine.

Bruce walked into the dining room as they were laying things out. “Jason. When did you get back?”

Jason took a deep breath forced himself to stay relaxed. “Yesterday. Figured I’d grab some of Alfred’s cooking tonight.”

“How did your mission go? Have you filed a report yet?”

God, couldn’t he just ask how Jason was like a normal person?

Alfred stepped in before Jason could snap. “Master Bruce, you know I do not allow shop talk at the dinner table.”

“I’m doing great, B,” he said with fake cheerfulness. “Had the best breakfast this morning and slept amazingly, thanks for asking.”

“Jason—”

“I’m gonna get the last of the dishes from the kitchen, Alfred,” said Jason before Bruce could say anything more.

In the kitchen, Jason leaned over the counter and breathed as he counted to ten. He shouldn’t have come here. Not with the pits so close to the surface after seeing those messages.

But he was bat-trained and he couldn’t leave a mystery alone and he needed someone with better computer and hacking skills than he had. So here he was.

He could do this. It was just dinner then a question.

He grabbed the last two platters of food and returned to the dining room. Duke and Tim had arrived in the meantime.

“Hey, Jason,” greeted Duke.

“Hey, kid. How’s Gotham been treatin’ ya?”

“Same old, same old. Glad to see you’re back and in one piece.”

Jason grinned at him. “The other guys aren’t so lucky.”

Duke laughed. “I’ll bet.”

Tim piled food onto his plate. “You should’ve said you were back. Dick would’ve made the trip out here to join us. Barbara, too, probably.”

“It was a last minute decision. Where’s the demon brat?”

“Here,” said a voice from behind him. “Todd. You appear to be healthy.”

Jason blinked at the kid a few times as Damian walked around him and took his own seat. “Uh… yeah. Thanks. You appear… healthy, too.”

Nonplussed by the lack of aggression, Jason took his own seat and began serving himself as well.

Over dinner, the others filled him in on the major family drama as well as what had happened in Gotham while he’d been gone. Even Bruce seemed to be trying after his initial missteps.

But then they were finishing dessert and Tim got up to leave.

“Hey, Replacement, by the way, can I get your opinion on something? My computer skills don’t seem to be enough to get me the information I need.”

“Really? You’re gonna call me ‘Replacement’ at the same time as you ask for help? Fuck you?”

“Language, Master Tim.”

“Sorry, Alfred.”

“Look, Tim,” Jason corrected himself, “apparently someone contacted me months ago for help and I only just found out because I’ve been gone. It seems to be time-sensitive. Now, I can spend days or weeks more trying to figure this out on my own or you could probably do it in an hour or two.”

And of course Bruce had to butt in. “Who contacted you and what is this case?”

Jason shrugged. “Dunno. Looks like a case of wrong number, actually.

“A wrong number?” That caught Tim’s attention.

Jason hid his grin. Hook, line, and sinker. “Yep. She thinks she’s texting someone named Danny. I’m the one getting the messages.”

Tim sighed. “Fine. Give me a ride back to my place and I’ll see what I can do.”

-----

“What the fuck, Jason.”

Eight hours later and they were both tired and Tim still hadn’t gotten anywhere with his search. But he had fried two computers.

“It’s not supposed to do that, is it?” asked Jason staring at the Lazarus-green screen covered in bright blue gibberish. “Is that color combination even legal?”

“You’re worried about the colors? Dude! This isn’t even code. I don’t even recognize half these symbols!”

The computer let out an awful screeching-wail that had Jason covering his ears. Then it started to smoke and the screen when black. When Tim tried to check out the hardware, it had overheated so badly the plastic casing was melted.

“I think it’s time we try calling this Jazz woman.”

“Yeah. Would it be better to call her as Jason or Red Hood?”

Tim just raised and eyebrow at him and Jason sighed as he opened up his messages and hit call, setting it to speaker phone.

He winced when a woman picked up instantly with a cry of, “Danny!”

“I’m afraid this isn’t Danny,” said Jason.

He counted the seconds until the woman spoke again. Seven. “Please, just delete all the messages. If anyone finds out about them, I’ll be arrested. And the guys in white aren’t gentle with prisoners.”

Tim’s eyebrows rose and Jason bit his cheek to hold back the curses.

“You’ve got the wrong idea. I might not be Danny, but I want to help. You’ve reached Red Hood. I was unconctactable for the last few months while on a mission and I only just saw your messages. Red Robin is with me and we plan to help you and Danny. But we need more information.”

Another pause and then Jazz spoke again. “I’ll need some proof you are who you say you are.”

“Seems reasonable,” agreed Tim. “Give us fifteen minutes to get into costume. We’ll take a selfie. You can even specify the pose and any features you want included. Sound fair?”

“Fine. I want Red Robin to give Red Hood rabbit ears and Red Hood to give Red Robin Moose antlers."

Jason groaned. “Seriously? Can’t it be literally anything else?”

“Nope. I want to be sure you’re not just stealing something off the internet. I’ll also be doing a reverse image search on whatever picture you send, just to confirm.”

Tim laughed, the asshole. “Smart. We’ll send the photos soon as we’re changed and in position.”

“Very good. I’ll also have some questions for you, you understand. My record with those associated with the government has not been very good. Which is why my brother, his friends, and I never contacted the Justice League.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t associate with the government then, isn’t it?” asked Jason.

“That’s the only reason I’m even considering telling you the truth, Mr. Hood.”

-----

It ended up being half an hour before they could both get in uniform and agree on a spot where they could take the pictures. Jason finally convinced Tim they should pose next to his favorite grotesque and the pictures were sent off.

Five minutes later, his phone range.

“Cute gargoyle,” said Jazz before they could even get out a greeting.

“It’s a grotesque, actually,” corrected Jason on autopilot. He could feel Tim’s eye roll even with the mask.

"Why can't I access anything from the town of Amity or find any information on the GIW you mentioned? I fried three computers trying to track down information. Literally. Had to disable the smoke detectors."

Now it was Jason's turn to roll his eyes. Tim always got so intense when it came to research.

“You certainly don’t waste time. But before I answer your questions, I need to ask my own.”

Tim frowned, but there was no sign of frustration in his voice when he spoke. “Of course. What do you need to know?”

“What do you know about ghosts?”

“One of my teammates is a ghost,” said Tim.

“And there’s another one who works with Justice League Dark,” added Jason.

A pause, then a surprised, “Really? I didn’t know that.” She hummed and Jason wished he could see her face to see what she was thinking. “Do you know about the Anti-Ecto Acts?”

“The what?” asked Tim even as he started typing into his watch. “Wait, if I search for this, will my device burst into flames?”

For the first time, Jazz laughed in genuine amusement and Jason felt he was getting a glimpse into who she really was. The sound pushed the green back from the back of his head and his breath seemed to come a little easier.

“No, the acts are fine. Here, I’ve got the code number.”

Tim searched the number Jazz related. Thirty seconds after pulling it up, he let out a low whistle. “What the fuck. The League has no idea these laws exist. I can promise you that. Martian Manhunter and all Lanterns would leave immediately.”

“What’s it say?” demanded Jason, trying to read the tiny screen over Tim’s shoulder.

“These Ectoplasm Dependent Entities, are they the ghosts you mentioned?”

“Yes. More specifically, the ghosts referred to are sapient creatures from a parallel dimension called the Infinite Realms by its residents and the Ghost Zone by some humans. Ectoplasm, and this is an oversimplification to the point of being incorrect, is required by ghosts the way living creatures on Earth need carbon. Hood, the Anti-Ecto Acts declare all Realm Ghosts as non-sapient, excluding them from the Meta Protection Acts. It also states that they are to be turned over the to Guys in White, more formally known as the Ghost Investigation Ward and abbreviated to GIW, for experimentation and elimination.”

“Well shit. And I assume Danny is targeted by this group?”

“Got it in one.”

A chill went down Jason’s spine. “That’s what you meant by his funeral being three years too late.”

She sighed, all hints of laugher gone and Jason wished he could bring it back. “My brother is different. I won’t tell you more than that. He’s still alive, though. Or at least he was when he escaped the Guys in White about three months ago.”

Jason and Tim exchanged glances. She was definitely holding a lot back. So Jason decided to change tactics. “You mentioned another Dani, too. With an i?”

“She’s my brother’s clone. We consider her our little sister, but our parents don’t know about her. We haven’t been able to provide a stable home for her and she loves to travel and is more than capable of protecting herself, so we just keep in contact and hope she’ll come when she needs help.”

Tim perked at the word clone. “We can offer her safety,” he promised. “One of my teammates and best friends is a clone.”

Jazz hummed. “I'll let her know the next time she reaches out. No promises, though. She's even less trustful than I am.”

Jason took deep breaths. “How old are you, your brother, and sister?” She sounded young and had mentioned college many times in her messages.

Jazz hesitated. “We’re all teenagers. Dani was created three years ago, but was aged up.”

Jason spun and kicked the wall hard. Tim caught his arm to keep him from overbalancing. “Okay. Of course you are. Because adults can’t help but force children into roles they should never have to take.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Bit hypocritical of you to say that.”

“Yeah, well, look where it got me,” Jason retorted, voice a growl.

“I feel like I’m missing some context,” said Jazz.

“It’s nothing,” said Jason. “I just hate when adults put kids in danger or don’t help them get out of danger.” And it was definitely time to change the subject. “You mentioned two other people? A Tucker and Sam? Do they need help?”

“They’re not in danger like the Dannies. But the Guys in White suspect the three of us of collaborating with ghosts and are keeping a close eye on us. Our main phones are tapped and any messages we send will be read and all calls recorded. The instant they have proof we’ve assisted or plan to assist ghosts, we’ll be arrested and detained.”

“What can I do to access information on these Guys in White and Amity?” asked Tim.

“You need a computer that’s ectoplasm-compatible. I don’t have a spare, but Tucker would. He’s at a tech school in San Francisco.”

“What’s that mean, ectoplasm-compatible?” Tim was still typing away at his watch and Jason was jealous of his ability to read and listen at the same time.

“Tucker can explain it better than I can. But basically, things from our world don't work around ectoplasm. It gives off it's own form of energy and our gadgets, and bodies, can't handle it. But if something is exposed to low quantities over a long period of time, they begin to change. The ectoplasm is incorporated. This allows the device to display video and pictures of ghosts. Computers that are not ecto-compatible can't even connect to ones that are. An ecto-compatible computer, on the other hand, can access information from a non-compatible one.”

Jason couldn’t help but latch onto one specific word. “What do you mean bodies? Can humans become ecto-compatible?” The idea sent a shiver down Jason’s spine for reasons he couldn’t quite name.

“It’s complicated. Ectoplasm is dangerous for humans. Really dangerous. My brother and friends and I have done some research on how it interacts with living matter from this dimension and… Well, its far too complicated to discuss over the phone with people I don’t know if I should trust and who don’t have the requisite background knowledge to understand it anyway.”

Tim hummed in a way Jason knew meant he wasn’t satisfied and wouldn’t rest until he got all the information he could. “Would Tucker be willing to sell me an ecto-compatible computer if I reach out to him? How much would he want for it?”

Jazz laughed, but this time there wasn’t any happiness in it. “If you’re really going to help Danny, he’d give it to you for free. And if you can get him to trust you, he’ll show you all the backdoors he’s made into the Guys in White’s servers.”

“Fantastic. How can I contact him?”

Jason let them talk specifics as he stared out over the city. Not even twenty-four hours home and he was right back in the thick of things. When it seemed like Tim and Jazz were wrapping things up, he added, “I’d like to speak to you in person.”

“I’m in Boston,” she said with a laugh.

Jason made the calculations, adding time for a ninety minute nap. “I can be there in seven hours.”

“I’ve class in seven hours.” She sighed. “But I’ll text you a time and place. I need to make sure I get somewhere the Agents following me won’t be able to find right away.”

“I can go in civvies,” offered Jason. “I’ve more than a few fake IDs. Might be easier to hide what we’re talking about.”

She hummed in consideration. “I’ll let you know. I have your number after all.”

“That you do. I’ll head your way sooner than later so I’m at least close by when you manage your escape.”

“Very well. Then I suppose I’ll be seeing you soon. Will you both come to Boston or are you going to Tucker first, Red Robin?”

“I’m going to go to Tucker. I need that computer and access to the relevant information. Then we can start to plan. Before Red Hood leaves, I’ll make a few communicators so you can contact us on a secure line. And I’ll give one to Tucker, too. At least then you’ll be able to talk to each other.”

“Thank you.” Jazz’s voice was quiet and filled with emotion. It made Jason’s heart clench. No way was she faking that. But she gathered herself and her voice was strong again when next she spoke. “And Gentlemen?”

“Yeah?” asked Jason.

“If it turns out I was wrong to trust you? Your bodies will never be found. My friends and I have been keeping Amity safe from ghosts and ghost hunters alike for the past three years on our own. We have access to resources you can't even imagine. And if we are no longer held back by the fear of putting both Dannies in more danger, well, we can do a lot of damage."

“Yes, ma’am,” replied Jason. “You can trust us.”

“I hope you’re not lying,” she said before disconnecting the call.

Jason let out a whistle. “I like her.”

Tim huffed a laugh. “Of course you do. You know, this could only happen to us. What are the chances of a wrong number text reaching one of us?”

-----

Far away, in a tower in another dimension, a being smiled. His appearance changed from child to middle aged to elderly and back as he watched the lives of many on the mirrors that covered every surface of his home.

“Just a little longer, my Prince,” he said as the threads of time wove a pattern that glowed just a little bit brighter.

----------

Next

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[absoluteocellibehavior]

The Eye's Great Chain of Being

Welcome to Part 2 of me and my friends have completely shaken up the TMA universe and other podcasts in the process. This system was created by my lovely friend Nightshade who is not on Tumblr but who has given me full permission to post this and answer any questions about it! Here is how she describes it: "The Eye is an entity of roles, of expectations, and that means a hierarchy. You have a place and you will know it. This system does not necessarily indicate how much power an avatar has (it can give a boost, but your strength can grow with age and experience), but it does indicate how favorable the avatar is to the Eye. The hierarchy is traditionally based on three vectors: Complete/Incomplete: How detailed is the information you've collected? Infinite/Finite: What subjects can you gather? Record/Recollection: What is the nature of the information you've gathered, how factual? The different combinations of which determine your rank along the hierarchy. For example: Archivists are among the highest roles, being complete (all details) infinite (any subject) records (entirely factual). The Jeweler ranks lower, being a complete finite record (focused on a specialized task). Of similar level is the Philosopher, being of complete infinite recollections (knows a Lot, but the knowledge is more about thinking and exploring than the facts discovered). The Storyteller is fairly low, being of incomplete infinite recollection (can collect a wide range of stories, but they focus on specific things and aren't always accurate to the event). Now. The Pupil is a unique role, in that it is the lowest, existing merely as a servant to the Eye and those of higher ranks. It doesn't actually have a particular task, not like the Archivist or Jeweler or Philosopher, it just knows things in order to organize or assist. How you go about this servitude though is... up to you." The Chain so far is as follows (and I am more than happy to talk about any of these placements or the lore contained within the chain itself!): The Entropy - Kayne :] The Archivist - Jonathan Sims The Ambassador - Arthur Lester The Broadcast - Cecil Gershwin Palmer The Jeweler - Emer The Luminary - Dr. Aria "Ria" Lynn Bell The Expanse - Dr. Axel M. Wimpren The Doctor - Dr. Jonathan Callaghan Fanshawe The Philosopher - Elliott Meléti The Wanderer Ocelli - Barnabas Lukas-Bennett The Keeper - Cillian Fanshawe Callaghan The Architect - Robert Smirke The Tower - Manphy Lukas-Bennett The Antiquary - Albrecht Von Closen The Storyteller - Thea Brooks (Pupil) The Analyst - Phoebe (Nix) (Pupil) The Manor - Mordechai Lukas-Bennett (Pupil) The Martian - Juno Steel (Pupil) The Doctor - Jonathan Callaghan Fanshawe (Pupil) The Siren Host - Jonah Magnus

If you want to check out any of the other things we've added to this universe as they all feed on each other, check out the tag #ocelli expansion pack !

[rainbowmoonstonestories]

Let Your Dreams Be Your Wings | Chapter 10

Chapters: 10/? Fandom: The Sandman (Netflix 2022, minor content from the Comics) Rating: Explicit Relationships Dream of the Endless/Morpheus x F!Reader  Characters: Dream of the Endless/Morpheus, Lucienne, Matthew the Raven, Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Hob Gadling, Death, Rose Walker, The Corinthian, other minor Sandman characters, Original Characters. Warnings: 18+ content (minors DNI), explicit sexual content, POV switching, very long chapters to read. Summary: You always dreamed of becoming a successful Fashion Designer, sharing your creations with the world and making your father proud. But with him being very ill and so many costs solely weighting on your shoulders, things didn’t go as planned and you had to take a different path instead. An interesting offer led you to the elder Alex Burgess and you were hired as a new housemaid for a very good pay. However, your kindness and outstanding empathy convinced the man to give you an additional task for a doubled compensation; gaining the trust of Dream Of the Endless, held captive into the basement for over a century. Despite the shock of finding such an ethereal entity stripped of all his clothes and contained into a confined space, you had to accept for the sake of your father. But the more you got to speak to the mysterious anthropomorphic personification who didn’t utter a single word, the more you were lost into his eyes that, conversely, seemed to contain the entire universe. A deep connection formed between the two of you, separated only by a thick layer of glass.

Little did you know, what started like a simple housemaid job was about to change your life forever.

Credits: The moon dividers were made by firefly-graphics

Tagging: @number-0-iz. If anyone else wants to be tagged in the next updates, let me know! I noticed that Tumblr sometimes won't let me tag everyone for some unknown reason, so if it comes to that I can at least send you a message to notify you.

Ko-Fi (If you ever wish to support my work)

Note: I posted an interlude with pictures on AO3, I highly recommend checking that!

You thought you could keep that little secret to yourself, but in the end, your curiosity got the best of you.

The elevator ride felt much longer than it actually was. You tried to calm your pulse while adjusting your hair and clothes, waiting for the doors to open at your desired floor. Upon reaching your destination, you stepped out of the elevator and tightly gripped the strap of your bag. As you looked around, you absorbed the lively atmosphere and energetic banter in the air as the cacophony of scissors slicing through fabric and sewing machines filled your ears.

A middle-aged woman with kind brown eyes and a big hair bun catched sight of you and met your gaze. She put her pen aside, left her desk, and approached you with a big, bright smile. As she moved closer, you could detect a sweet fragrance of roses.

“Y/N Y/LN, I presume?”

You swallowed down your growing tension and greeted her, "Good morning. Yes, it is me.”

She offered her hand and you quickly took it, shaking it lightly in return.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Amelia Foster, but everyone here calls me Amy. Please, don’t worry about the formalities with me.”

Her amiable manners and endearing reception instantly put you at ease. Your face involuntarily lit up and you returned her smile.

As time went by, other employees began to take notice of your presence. They walked away from their tasks to approach you, each of them introducing themself to you with a level of enthusiasm to which you were not accustomed. They treated you like an established member of their team, patting your shoulder, complimenting your appearance, and offering you tea and snacks as if you were a welcome guest in a warm household.

Remembering their names may be a challenging endeavor, but you were already feeling positive sensations from your potential future coworkers. There was only one person, a sullen-looking woman who stood apart from the forming crowd, not really instilling a good feeling in you. Although she exuded a sense of elegance, the crossed arms and subtle glare she directed at you gave off a rather unfavorable impression. Her deep, black curls looked as smooth as cotton, shimmering in the natural light coming from the windows. The fitting dress she was clothed in accentuated her feminine figure, and the crimson shade of her lips curved in what appeared to be a frown, reminiscent of a villainous character from an old Disney movie.

You couldn't dwell on it for too long because the sound of a door opening caught your attention. Before you could even turn your head, a pair of small yet strong arms wrapped around you, almost knocking you backward. A piercing scream reverberated through the room as Ella began to hop up and down, forcibly pulling you along with her. You felt pleased to see that, even after several years of separation, she still retained her youthful energy.

You returned her hug, feeling a bit self-conscious in front of the team witnessing such a display of affection. After removing herself from the embrace, she had a tear-filled gaze with her big emerald eyes. Her blonde tresses had extended in length, replacing her former cute bob with a style that framed her facial features more elegantly. Her makeup was more natural and simple compared to the thick eyeshadow she once loved utilizing.

Although she still resembled her younger self, you could clearly see a fully matured woman before you.

In a brief exchange, Ella conveyed her immense pleasure at reuniting with you, unafraid to show her exuberant emotions in front of her team. It was striking to you how everyone seemed more like a family than just a group of workers. It brought back memories of your previous job and of how Paul used to treat you at Fawney Rig.

Sometimes, you actually missed the man.

Taking your hand in a tight grip, Ella pulled you out of the room without much ceremony. The office appeared to be quite spacious, with multiple rooms and a long corridor connecting all of them. Your surroundings were completely unfamiliar to you, but you could visualize yourself regularly pacing back and forth across the location during work hours on a regular basis.

As you entered her office, Ella invited you to take a seat on the cozy couch for an informal conversation. After removing her high heels, she positioned herself against the velvety cushions, lifting her legs and comfortably stretching out. "Doesn't this bring back memories? It’s been so long since we’ve had a proper chat.”

You flashed a smile and took off your bag, placing it on the coffee table in front of the couch. "And now look at you; a successful married woman managing an empire.”

With a hearty chuckle, she proclaimed, "It is not the big castle with rainbow unicorns I wished for as a child, but I’m proud of what Oliver and I have built. After all, he is my Prince Charming.”

"It does feel like a dream just to be here right now. You've accomplished so much more than I ever could.”

Ella’s beaming face switched to a slight frown, and in a rapid motion, her hands found themselves resting atop yours. “Y/N, your talents will bring you far in life. I’m sure of it.”

For the first time, you were inclined to believe it.

"I want to apologize again for not reaching out. I really should have called you," she continued.

You shook your head lightly. "I didn't call you either.”

"I know that you only wanted me to have my space. Besides, life as an adult can get bumpy every now and then," she said, showing her understanding.

“Tell me about it.”

Ella let out a deep sigh, stroking your arm up and down in a friendly manner. "How about we catch up? You're not in a hurry, are you?”

Your friend had missed out on a significant amount of things over the past couple of years alone. Fortunately, you had decided to allot the entire day for yourself, being certain that discussing each other's lives, as well as recollecting events from the past, would demand a prolonged stretch of time before initiating the informal interview.

Regrettably, you were unable to divulge the complete particulars of your relationship with Morpheus, forced to devise a creative option with alterations to the original story, in an effort to fabricate a statement that would safeguard his identity. Despite this, your friend was exceedingly ecstatic upon hearing that you had found a good man. She immediatly expressed her desire to meet him in person, in addition to the vigorous impulse to strike your former lovers in the face.

The conversation progressed just like that, and eventually, you spoke of your close friend Hob Gadling, as well as your father's health problems and the struggles you had to go through to take care of him. Upon hearing the news, Ella was awed and almost broken into tears. She frequently visited your house and came to appreciate your father a great deal as you two grew up together. You could still vividly remember the sleepovers, the fake tents you used to build with sheets and chairs with his joyful participation, and the galaxy projector you both loved to admire as it cast beautiful stars and nebulae on the ceiling while drifting off to sleep.

"Oh, Y/N. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. You should have called me then," she said apologetically. “I feel like an awful friend right now. I never once asked you how you were doing,”

"I couldn't call anyone, Ella. That was not your burden, it was mine to deal with,” you explained. “I should offer you the same apology."

“Not really. You needed that more than I did.”

As you shifted your attention downwards, you noticed that she had begun to scratch the back of her right hand. Her skin immediately reddened as soon as her fingernails came into contact with it.

Without a second thought, you took hold of her left wrist and pulled it away. "I see that you never got rid of your old habit.”

Ella pressed her lips together, avoiding your eyes. “I did for some time, after meeting Oliver. Still, the itching comes back whenever I feel stressed or worried.”

"If you are concerned about me, don't be. I promise you, everything is okay now," you clarified reassuringly.

“I wasn’t there for you when you needed me.”

“It was better that way,” you stated. “You were following your dreams.”

“That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

"But it makes me feel better to see what an extraordinary woman you have become."

Ella let out a light chuckle, lightly tapping the damp skin under her eyes with her fingertips. "I'll cry if you keep doing that," she said with a wry smile, her voice tinged with a hint of playfulness.

"You already are!”

"Oh, shoosh.”

In an instant, it felt as if the two of you had never been apart. The nervousness and anxiety lingering in you easily dissipated, replaced by a sense of comfort and familiarity. With every shared secret and heartfelt joke, the bond between you grew as strong as it ever was, solidifying your certainties and eradicating your insecurities.

As time passed, the conversation eventually moved to the professional aspect. Ella began to inform you about the specific duties and tasks that their former Fashion Designer had been responsible for, as well as what was expected of you as his successor. Not only would you be in charge of the creative direction and elements for all future lines of their brand, but they also desired a more innovative approach to portraying their products in magazines and advertising boards. As Ella guided you through a tour of their entire structure, the Photo Studio and Graphic Laboratory took center stage, emphasizing their importance in achieving these goals.

To you, everything you were witnessing felt like an incredible dream coming true. The opportunity to be a part of this environment and take on such significant roles was beyond anything you had ever imagined and wished for.

"I know this is a lot to take on, especially since you haven't worked directly in this field," Ella acknowledged. "But I believe in your abilities and I trust that you would be the perfect choice.”

Being aware of your own capabilities, you placed your own faith in the knowledge you had acquired through your studies and the personal work you had accomplished over the years. You had taught yourself the skills that you believed were ideal for the position that Ella proposed, investing countless hours in various online courses on Design, Photography, and 3D development.

"I know I told you to take your time to decide, but I hope you can give me a response as soon as possible. We need to prepare for the Fashion show that will take place in three months, and without a designer, we are completely unprepared now.”

As Ella further elaborated upon the topic at hand, you couldn't contain your delight and kept examining the surrounding environment. A comparable chance had never arisen to you before, and you were determined not to let it slip away.

In the end, you gave her a piercing gaze, all the while maintaining a determined expression. “I accept.”

Ella found herself blinking multiple times, trying to confirm if she had understood your words correctly. “Wait, what?”

"I don't need to think about it, Ella. I know exactly what I want, and you can count on me.”

The tight, warm hug she gave you lasted for a few seconds, leaving you breathless with its robust squeeze. In response, Ella expressed her gratitude by using every bit of air in her lungs.

“Lucienne,” "Morpheus called his librarian's name as he walked along the shelves. “Did you want to see me?”

The woman raised her face from the sizable volume she was contemplating, her glasses almost slipped down from her nose doing so. "Yes, my lord," she responded. "It appears that I omitted something in my previous research. About your human lady.”

Morpheus' attention was immediately piqued. “Tell me more.”

Lucienne directed her gaze at the Lord of Dreams, releasing a deep sigh. She turned the book around to grant him a view of its contents. "Perhaps you should see for yourself," she suggested.

Morpheus hesitated, then took a step closer to examine the book, which lay spread open in front of him. His eyes scanned the words imprinted on the bound scrolls, and a frown formed on his countenance as he absorbed their revelation.

He tilted his head upwards, once again meeting Lucienne's worried eyes.

"Sir, are you going to tell her?" she asked.

Morpheus allowed his fingertips to gently glide across the page, engaging in deep contemplation to determine what alternatives were available to him.

"Uhm, if I can make a suggestion, I think she should probably know," Matthew intervened, flying over the table and landing next to Morpheus' hand.

"You are not incorrect, Matthew,” he confirmed. “"Nonetheless, this needs to be approached with the utmost caution.”

For a moment, the raven glanced at Lucienne before redirecting his dark, glassy eyes towards the Endless once more. “I suppose so. Still, this is something she might find interesting to learn about. I definitely would.”

Being someone with extensive knowledge surpassing that of a typical mortal regarding his realm, his siblings and their place in the universe, Morpheus understood that the amount of information you had acquired up until this moment was already quite overwhelming for you to process alone. In light of this, the Endless wanted to give you the necessary time to adjust to the several truths you had discovered. He aimed to avoid making the already complex situation worse and refrain from adding fuel to the active fire.

"Thank you, Lucienne," he said, closing the book. "I shall reflect on this matter.”

Lucienne nodded, watching as Morpheus silently left with the tome tucked under his arm, his coat billowing behind him as he walked briskly.

Upon arriving at your apartment, your mind was torn between two conflicting emotions. On one hand, you were in complete disbelief, yet also content and motivated, as the job of your dreams had materialized before your eyes. At the same time, you couldn't shake off the memory of the peculiar meeting you had earlier in the day, where those strange ladies discussed topics that were simply inconceivable to you.

The women you encountered seemed particularly eager in their efforts to portray Morpheus in a negative light. It seemed that their goal was to persuade you that your decision to align with him was impulsive and unwise. Furthermore, they claimed that the Lord of Dreams had once been married and conceived a child, whose name and story were well-documented and extensively explored in various literary works familiar to your kind.

The Fates, also known as the Kindly Ones, proclaimed that the Endless was directly responsible for the tragic fate of Orpheus. If the published books were indeed based on factual events, it was difficult for you to comprehend how the Endless could be solely and entirely accountable for the disastrous downfall of his son.

According to Greek mythology, Orpheus was the child of Calliope and Apollo, described as a famous musician, prophet, and celebrated poet. In the childhood fairytale you had with you, it was mentioned that, in certain instances, the King of Dreams was indeed associated with Apollo.

Despite your extensive research, you didn't manage to uncover any sort of information about Orpheus losing all his flesh at the behest of Apollo. You were on the verge of approaching Morpheus with a query, as the idea of him killing his own child was unimaginable and hard to believe.

However, Morpheus had started to open up about his past, describing the unfortunate circumstances that Nada had to endure because of his sorrow and broken heart. This made you question whether you should delve deeper into his personal matters, considering the sensitivity and privacy of the topic, which he probably wanted to forget.

That night, when you found him in your dreams, you realized that it wasn't the most appropriate moment to bring it up. With a warm smile masking your curiosity, you used the delightful news of your employment as a diversionary tactic. Morpheus, from his side, displayed no signs of suspecting anything, wholeheartedly congratulating you on your deserving success.

You were unaware that he was also hiding a crucial secret from you.

A month later, the job you took at Corbyn&Jones proved to be one of the most demanding positions you've ever held, but also the most enjoyable and fulfilling role you could have asked for. When you first met the CEO, you had to make an effort to remain composed and ensure that your friendship with his wife wouldn’t impact your performance. However, as you worked alongside Oliver, you became more familiar with each other and developed a mutual respect. You discovered that he was truly open, easygoing, and down-to-earth.

On top of that, your colleagues proved to be incredibly kind, supportive, and engaging individuals to work with. It didn't take long for you to form strong friendships with most of them, casually enjoying tea or coffee together during your short breaks.

In the office, you could rely on them to successfully complete tasks and execute projects. Every minute spent there felt more like a fun occurrence rather than a stressful routine focused solely on making money. Everything was perfect, in proper sync with the ideal working environment you had envisioned for yourself.

If there was anything to nitpick and scrutinize, the one factor that would be considered an impediment was that one woman, Maya Davies, who glowered at you from afar on the day you came in. According to what Ella told you, she used to be Isaac's right-hand person and had aspirations of becoming the new Fashion Designer of the company. Whenever you had to spend time alone with her for the sake of your work, she seemed to scrutinize you with contempt, speaking minimally and making a few passive-aggressive remarks. Ella admitted that Maya had a tendency to be boastful in her behavior, but she was still considered a valuable addition to their team for her marketing skills.

Eventually, you accepted the situation as it was. The issue with Maya was a minor obstacle that had minimal impact on the progress of your ongoing projects and dwelling on it would be a waste of time and effort.

Furthermore, your relationship with Morpheus remained smooth, even though you still couldn't define its true nature despite the clear affection he had for you. He would occasionally visit you in the Waking World or join you on your extensive nocturnal adventures in his realm of dreams, adding more depth to your ever growing connection and intimacy.

That night, you stood by Morpheus' side in front of the old tavern once known as The White Horse. Instead of its usual decrepit state, it appeared fully intact and emanated a typical medieval atmosphere from within.

"Wait, is this...?”

"It is the year 1389," he confirmed. “Come with me.”

You followed him with a sense of bewilderment, observing as he opened the door and gestured for you to step inside before him. As soon as you entered the tavern, you were immediately captivated by the soft glow of candlelight and the sight of numerous citizens adorned in antique garments. The tavern was bustling with men and women, sipping from large wooden mugs with metal handles, engrossed in lively conversations that filled the air with a vibrant murmur.

Morpheus guided you to an unoccupied table and pulled out a chair for you. Without saying a word, you settled yourself next to him and took another moment to inspect your surroundings.

“Can they see us?”

“They cannot. This is a recollection of the past,” he explained.

"A memory within a dream? I’m curious now. Why did you bring me here?”

Morpheus’ lips raised into a small grin as he looked at the farthest table a few feet away from your position. Following his line of sight, you noticed a group of men joyfully indulging in their leisure time at the tavern. They sat comfortably, clutching large tankards in their hands. Among them, you immediately recognized a familiar man, someone you couldn't possibly overlook.

“Hob?!”

There was no room for error, it was him. He had shoulder-length hair, a full beard, wore a dark brown cloak, and what appeared to be a commoner uniform with long sleeves underneath. He laughed and enjoyed his alcoholic drink, completely unaware of your presence and the future that awaited him.

Morpheus simply made an affirmative sound, silently observing the scene next to you.

And then, you heard Hob speaking, while Morpheus waved his hand in a subtle gesture to silence the other sounds around you and amplify the volume of what caught his interest.

“Look, I’ve seen death. I lost half my village to the Black Death. I fought under Buckingham in Burgundy, it’s not like I don’t know what death is.”

Hob's demeanor suddenly turned serious as he addressed the other men, sharing his perspective with them. “Death is… stupid.”

His friends chuckled. “You’re a fool, Hob.”

“Nobody has to die,” he insisted. “The only reason people die is… is ‘cause everyone does it. You all just go along with it. But not me.”

You couldn't help but let out an amused guffaw, vigorously shaking your head. While you could easily recognize his common attributes, it was apparent to you that Hob was clearly inexperienced and quite immature in comparison to the person he would eventually become.

"I've made up my mind; I'm not going to die," he said confidently.

The men around him burst into laughter, but Hob maintained his smile, unwavering in the face of their expected reaction.

“Hobs, death comes for every man.”

“You don’t know that, I might get lucky. There’s always a first time. There’s so much to do, so many things to see.” He took hold of his tankard again. “Women to swive. Ale to drink. People to drink with.”

With that, Hob raised his arm and the others followed suit, cheering and clinking their tankards together in a lively toast.

Morpheus gestured with his hand once more, directing your attention to two other figures, a man and a woman, who also bore a striking resemblance to someone you knew. A younger version of Morpheus, with his longer hair and a dark tunic that matched the time period, stood before his sister, who in turn was disguising herself as a nun.

They were both the same, except for their different appearances.

With a warm, affectionate smile, you turned to the Morpheus sitting beside you, gently running your fingers through his short, tousled locks. "Nice hair," you remarked, referring to the style he had in 1389.

Morpheus returned your smile with a slight curve of his lips.

“Why would any sensible creature crave an eternity of this?” Past Morpheus asked.

Teleute looked at him with a satisfied expression. “You could find out.”

He appeared delighted, intrigued by his sister's statement. "How?”

“I could grant him his wish,” she replied.

The other Endless raised his eyebrows, his mouth spreading into a mischievous grin. “Do that and he will be begging for death within a century, I assure you.”

“This will prove very interesting.”

Both siblings turned their gaze back to Hob's table, listening to the ongoing conversation among the mortal men.

“What will you do with all that life?”

“I can find better friends than you, I can tell you that.”

You giggled once more, resting your head against your palm as you propped your elbow on the tabletop.

Death then looked at Dream once more. “Are you gonna tell him, or should I?”

Morpheus gazed at her with the same smile as before, a glint of amusement shining in his eyes. “I shall.”

As he turned to make his way to the table, Teleute replied, "Very well, little brother." She watched him walk away with a satisfied expression on her face, and before turning away, she repeated, "Very well.”

Morpheus approached Hob's seated position with deliberate steps, coming to a stop and placing one hand on top of the other. In that moment, you observed that he had adorned himself with the same ruby that Roderick Burgess had stolen in 1916.

Silence descended upon the ones present as Hob’s attention was captured by with the enigmatic figure who stood tall near his chair.

“Did I hear you say you have no intention of ever dying?” Morpheus inquired.

Hob showed a hint of confusion, but he still went along with it, letting out a faint chuckle. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, that’s right.”

“Then you must tell me what it’s like,” Morpheus stated.

Hob continued to laugh.

“Let us meet here again, Robert Gadling,” Hob's face suddenly registered shock as he heard his name spoken by a complete stranger. “In this tavern of the White Horse in 100 years.”

Hob's companions laughed wholeheartedly, while Hob himself remained surprised. He showed an increased level of curiosity towards the man in front of him.

“A hundred years and I’m Pope Urban,” said one of his friends.

Meanwhile, Morpheus swiftly turned to his sister, who gave him an encouraging nod. He responded to her gesture with equal confidence.

“Don’t mind them,” Hob interjected. “A hundred years’ time, on this day?”

Morpheus agreed with an affirmative tilt of his head.

“I will see you in the year of our Lord 1489, then.”

After a moment of contented reflection, the Endless departed, holding the men's inquisitive gazes until he disappeared from view.

“Who was that, then, Hobsie?”

“Haven’t a clue. But tell you what, I’ll ask him in 100 years’ time.”

The surroundings suddenly became brighter and blurrier. You could still hear the voices of people conversing in the distance, but it was as if someone had turned down the volume of a television, leaving only a faint, unintelligible noise in the background.

And so, you turned to Morpheus, who met your gaze with silence, his eyes unwavering.

"Hob has told me about this day. It's remarkable how vivid his memories are, considering how much time has passed.”

And then your gaze shifted to his chest, searching for the missing ruby that was nowhere to be found. You delicately touched the fabric of his shirt with the tips of your fingers, tracing a path down to his upper abdomen.

“You’re not wearing the pendant.”

“No. The ruby was destroyed.”

“Oh.”

“No matter. The power that was enclosed into that jewel has returned to me.”

You looked down, taking one of his hands between yours, firmly gripping it as you placed it on the table. "Sometimes, I find myself pondering what you revealed to me that day. It pains my heart whenever I recall seeing you trapped in that cage.”

“Y/N-”

"You're okay now, right?”

Morpheus parted his lips as if about to respond to your question, but instead, he moved his beautiful blue eyes to the side, lost in contemplation. After a moment, he tightened his hold on your hand, offering a reassuring caress. “I am.”

A sense of tranquility washed over you as you heard his response. You reciprocated with a warm, genuine smile and gently brushed the surface of his palm with your thumb. You remained in that position for a while, gazing at each other's faces in silence.

Meanwhile, your mind drifted to the Fates and their revelations about Morpheus' son, yet you still lacked the courage to broach the subject in his presence. Once again, you opted to keep your thoughts to yourself, even though the burden of the secret was becoming increasingly uncomfortable as time passed by.

"Dad, do I have any Greek roots?”

As soon as you posed that question to him, your father suddenly choked on his water. Tears welled up in his eyes as he desperately tried to regain his composure, coughing violently. You repeatedly patted him on the back, offering comfort as he gasped for breath.

"Are you all right?”

“Y-yes,” he declared, loudly clearing his throat. “I’m okay, I was drinking too fast.” You waited for him to stabilize himself, inhaling at a slower pace. “Greek roots? Where did that come from?”

"One of my coworkers asked me if I’m partially Greek because of my features," you lied with a subtle shrug. "I don't know much about our family, so I was curious.”

Your father demonstrated a rather odd nervousness, wiping his mouth and kneading the rear of his neck. "Well, if you do, it certainly must be from your mother's side.”

Upon mentioning his lover, you noticed a significant degree of melancholy and distress befall on your father. Your chest tightened with the sight of his despondent state, which led you to hastily grasp his shoulder in an earnest way.

"I'm so sorry, dad. I know how much it pains you to talk about her.”

He released a shaky sigh, smiling at you. “It’s okay, lovey. It’s been a long time.”

“But you still haven’t moved on.”

It took a brief moment for your father to come up with a reply. “No, I have not.”

"I can only imagine how hard it's been for you," you said. "The day I was born is also the day she passed away. Sometimes, I can't help but think that it was all my fault.”

“Absolutely not!” he exclaimed. “My dear, none of that happened because of you.”

“I just… I wish you could be happy, Dad.”

“Oh, but I am, sweetie. Even more so now that you’re following your dreams.”

You absentmindedly started toying with the food on your plate, rotating the fork on its surface. "Don't you get lonely? Now that Miss Bailey is no longer assisting you 24/7.”

He scoffed. "As good as she is in her profession, having her glued to my ass all day was not pleasant.”

A slight laugh escaped your throat. "I bet she's glad too. You drove her nuts.”

"Come on! Do you know how frustrating it is to have her following you to the bathroom's door? Good thing that I could still clean my butt on my own.”

The process of finishing your lunch proved to be a considerable challenge, with you chortling at all the jokes that your father offered. You recalled Morpheus' words about the connection between the two of you, which coud have enabled him to directly benefit from an Endless presence through you. As a result, seeing him sitting at the table, beaming and radiating vitality, made it seem as though he had never been ill in the first place.

And yet, you couldn't shake off the unsettling feeling of something mysterious lurking beneath the surface. There was an indescribable sense of an imposing secret being concealed from you, leaving you unable to pinpoint exactly what it was.

Each day that went by, you became increasingly adept in your profession. The constantly rapid pace didn't seem to faze you, as you were completely absorbed in your creative pursuits. You would bring your unfinished assignments home and continue working on them until late into the night, fully engrossed in the process, without even glancing at the clock. Morpheus had to visit you to make sure everything was under control, as your absence from the Dreaming during sleep time was deemed unusual.

It was both amusing and flattering to see him sulking for attention, but the last thing you wanted was to cause him any worry, particularly in light of the past events involving Nada.

More often than not, you had to assure him that you would join him soon enough, rather than letting your work consume you until the early hours of the morning.

If anything, immersing yourself in a busy schedule helped keep your mind occupied with a multitude of things to process, preventing you from lingering on what the Kindly Ones had told you once again. The more you found yourself in his company, the harder it became to suppress your curiosity as it swam through you and threatened to emerge. Simultaneously, you yearned to provide him with solace for his profound loss, regardless of the passage of time.

One night, you came to the realization that you simply couldn't withhold it from him any longer. It took you a moment to recall your intentions as you crossed the threshold from your world to the realm of dreams, but once you did, you were completely unsure of how to initiate the conversation.

Although he was showcasing a variety of marvels and breathtaking landscapes that you could only imagine stumbling upon in the Waking World, you found it difficult to uphold your attentiveness on Morpheus’ face.

Eventually, the Endless concluded his narrative and turned his frowning gaze towards you. “My love?”

As soon as you heard his voice calling you, you turned back to him in a hazy state. “Mh?”

“Something’s wrong.”

“What is?”

“You are not listening to me. You seem… lost.”

“Poor Y/N, so naive and lost.”

“I’m not lost.”

“Yes you are, my child. We came to warn you, little one.”

You pondered the responses you could provide, but every excuse appeared feeble and ineffective.

"I have something to talk to you about,” you admitted in the end.

Morpheus tilted his head slightly. "Go on.”

With the opportunity to finally release the burden from your chest, you now felt uncertain, almost fearful, as you looked into his profound and intense eyes, preparing to discuss something so personal and dramatic. You were tempted to abandon the idea, to fabricate a different story and redirect his attention elsewhere, but you had never been skilled at deception. It wasn’t your forte.

Taking a deep breath, you began to explain. "The day I got my job, I encountered someone on my way to the interview. Three women dressed in black materialized before me, introducing themselves as 'The Kindly Ones'.”

A change came over Morpheus immediately. You could clearly notice the tension in his jaw, and his demeanor underwent a complete shift. His body became utterly motionless, as if he had been struck by a spell leading to his paralysis. "What?”

Your heart raced, as his evident shock mixed with anger did not bode well.

"I don't even know what they wanted from me," you continued with your speech. "They spoke in riddles, but... I believe their intention was to warn me about something. About... you.”

You could sense the ground slipping away beneath you as he closed his eyes in surrender.

"They revealed things to me, Morpheus. They spoke about your past, about something I shouldn't have learned about. Not like that.”

Crossing your arms, you felt a tremble shaking you as the wind picked up and the sky darkened once again, mirroring the alteration in his mood.

At that moment, you came to the realization that you probably should have let it go, brushed it off, and moved on from it all. But despite knowing it was a wrong thing to do, a part of you was desperate for more information directly from the source.

Morpheus remained silent, his neck growing even more rigid, his eyes sparkling as he fixed his gaze upon you with even greater intensity.

Yes, you should have stopped right there and then, as you knew. And yet, you failed to do so.

"They told me you were married to Calliope, the Muse of epic poetry. And that you had a son, Orpheus... who, according to them, perished by your own hand.”

“Y/N.”

The way he uttered your name sent chills down your spine, his voice resonating with a terrifying power, both formidable and filled with an ominous presence.

"Choose your words wisely.”

For the very first time, you were feeling positively intimidated by the man you had fallen in love with. Your enchanting Dream, so kind and wonderfully magical, now felt like a haunting nightmare ready to consume you.

"Please forgive me, I... I didn't mean to upset you," you said in your defense, as futile as it may be. "I realize that this is not something to be taken lightly. I simply want to understand how you're feeling about it, what led them to believe you were at fault.”

Hearing that, Morpheus appeared to grow even more enraged. "You dare meddle with my affairs?”

Your eyes were so wide that you thought they could pop out of their sockets at any random point. “No! I would never do that!” A loud thunderclap made you jump on the spot. "Morpheus, please. I’m trying to make sense of what I’ve heard. All mortals are familiar with the story of your son, what happened with Hades, with Eurydice, with the Maeneads. It has been documented in numerous books and performed in countless theatrical works for many years.”

This time, the Endless remained silent, but the way he scrutinized you now, with such a stark and heartless expression, made you yearn to rewind your dream and restrain yourself from speaking the truth in the first place.

You let the cat out of the bag, and there was no way for you to put it back into it.

"If these depictions are based on reality, if our narrative is grounded in actual events, why are the Fates spreading lies about you?”

As menacing and invincible as he could be, Morpheus was not the monster that everyone portrayed him to be. Roderick and Alex Burgess, the former basement guards, now the Kindly Ones. How much suffering and persecution did he have to endure?

Eventually, Morpheus revealed a truth that was not what you were expecting to hear.

“Because it is, in fact, quite true.”

You looked at him in disbelief, carefully observing his body language and searching for a glimmer of hope in his somber, reddened eyes.

“I don’t believe it,” you declared.

“Whether you do or don’t, it cannot change what I have done.”

"Are you suggesting that the Maeneads were not real? That you were the one who tore your own son apart? No, I'm not buying it. I know you are better than that.”

He approached you, closing the distance until his face was just inches away from your nose. The version of him standing before you was hardly recognizable, twisted by a darkness far beyond what you could had ever imagined.

But deep down, you knew you shouldn't have been surprised. After all, he was not only the King of Dreams but also the ruler of Nightmares.

“You know nothing about me.”

The words stung, but you made a conscious choice to stay strong and unwavering.

"You're right, maybe I don't. But I trusted you when nobody else did, even without you speaking a single word to me.”

Morpheus couldn't deny the strength of your will, but given his pride, you should have anticipated his next response.

"I never sought your trust. I did not ask a human like you to come to my aid.”

With regards to the reason for his sudden change in temperament and the subsequent surge of rage, it was understandable to witness him shielding himself with a cold and emotionless temperament. Nevertheless, the venom in his words found a way to penetrate your chest, causing your heart to constrict in pain. You took in a sharp breath, and a single tear escaped from the corner of your eye, rolling down your cheek.

"This isn't fair," you replied, your voice breaking.

“No. It is not.”

You could tell that there was something more, something he clearly didn't want to reveal. You understood that he didn't desire to hurt you, as causing harm to others, like he did to Nada, was his way of concealing and alleviating his own suffering.

“Please, don’t do this. I was taken by those three, just tell me what happened. What truly happened.”

Morpheus gulped a couple of times, pressing his eyebrows together and intently observing you with a smidge of annoyance, blended with astonishment, at your stubbornness.

You had to consider the possible repercussions. It was within the realm of possibility that he would simply choose to banish you from the Dreaming, without providing a response to what you wanted to know. Still, you didn't retreat, holding on to your consciousness to stay asleep and lucid for as long as necessary.

Finally, he complied. "Very well. If that is what you wish.”

“Yes.”

Morpheus stepped back, distancing himself from your personal space and averting his eyes. “My son came to me, seeked my assistance to plead his case to Hades. To bring back the soul of his deceased wife.”

“And did you?”

“I did not.”

An ominous black fog was gradually forming in the distance, stealthily covering the ocean with a deathly curtain of gloom.

“I told him to bid the dead farewell, to grieve, and to continue with his life.”

You listened to his tale, anticipating more information being appended to it. Once he met your gaze again without further expanding on what he had mentioned, you found yourself shrouded in a cloud of bafflement.

“Wait, that’s it…?”

“You asked.”

Your mouth was agape, but no sound emanated from it. While you could accept a certain level of resentment held towards him for turning Orpheus down, which was followed by his son’s subsequent decision to travel to the Underworld alone, it was difficult for you to believe that this was the only reason leading the young man down a similar path.

"Have you seriously considered yourself at fault, because ot this?" you asked him, unable to accept such an explanation. "We all have the power to make choices, Morpheus. There are always different circumstances that influence our destiny and lead to different outcomes. Orpheus willingly chose to go to the Underworld, you didn't force him.”

"You merely feign understanding, when the matter is far beyond your range of comprehension,” he said firmly.

"I don't need to pretend anything. What else is there to understand apart from what you just told me?" you snapped, clearly frustrated in your voice.

In an instant, you could feel your own body vibrate in accordance with his thunderous words.

"Are you aware of the significance of a father picking the head of his son on the seashore?” He questioned.

“I-”

You were left speechless, frozen in place, as you contemplated the thought of Morpheus facing that very same fate. You were aware of the risks your revelation could have brought to you and him, but you didn't stop reflecting, not even for a second, on the sorrowful memories that would have been unearthed.

It was well within your rights to inquire following the interaction that took place with the Kindly Ones. Nevertheless, it was a story that held no connection to your personal existence. You had faith in Morpheus, therefore you would have never asserted that he was the abomination whom the Fates seemed to desire him to be. Why did you allow your curiosity to completely override his sentiments?

"Hold your tongue when touching upon subjects that do not concern you.”

The way he spoke to you made you feel like you had been reduced to an insignificant speck of dirt in his eyes. He viewed you as a creature that he detested, one with whom he didn't want to have anything in common with, ever again.

“Morpheus-”

“Leave.”

“Please, just let me-”

“This dream is over.”

You sprung awake with a heavy gasp escaping your lips, feeling disoriented as your vision adjusted to the gentle glow of your room, emanating from the window. The sun had not yet appeared on the horizon, but you were convinced that it would be impossible for you to drift back to sleep given your current distress.

You straightened your posture on the mattress, allowing the sheets to slip off your body as you stared at your hands and replayed the sequence of events from your dream in your mind. The seashell resting on your nightstand glistened with a captivating radiance, containing a fragment of the realm from which you had just been banished, probably forever.

You sucked in the air, feeling your innards writhing and your chest being ablaze from a raging fire that could not be tamed or contained.

"What have I done..." you whispered aloud, allowing guilt to course through your entire being for the rest of the night.

You messed up. Big time.

The following day, everyone noticed that the energy had dissipated from you during your work hours. While you didn't allow that to influence the caliber of your services, your usual smile was extinct from your face, and your eyes appeared to be as blank as those of a doll.

Due to your significant inner exasperation, you were unable to care in any way regarding Maya's provocations. She continued issuing them, notwithstanding your annoyance with everything around you.

"Were you bitten by a spider this morning?" she taunted you, sipping her coffee while sitting on the table in the break room with one leg crossed over the other. “You look terrible.”

You inhaled deeply, waiting for your own beverage to be produced by the machine. "Ever the sweet snowflake, are you, Maya?”

The woman let out a forceful giggle as she swished her voluminous, curly ink-black hair off her shoulders. “I’m just stating facts.”

Once your warm drink finished being dispensed, you took it in your hand and put on one of the fakest, most devilish grins your lips had ever formed. Without faltering, you turned to the poisonous woman, delivering such a cold, piercing look that her own smirk was wiped away like never before.

"I see you like playing the part of the Evil Queen like an average middle school girl, yet you should know how those stories typically end," you calmly remarked, your words laced with a cutting edge. "I win, you lose. Try to keep that in mind, will you?”

Seeing her rendered speechless was utterly priceless for you. You had constantly tried to ignore her hostility, pretending like you had no qualms with her constant jealousy. On that particular day, you were so mentally drained that you solely wanted a semblance of peace and seclusion, something that she had always failed to provide.

As you left, you could hear her groaning to herself, relishing in the way she cursed as you continued walking along the corridor with a heavy heart.

You didn't want to fall asleep that night. For all you knew, Morpheus no longer wanted to see your face in his realm again after what you did.

You kept your mind occupied as much as possible, engaging in your typical activities such as work, reading, and watching TV. You were consuming copious amounts of coffee with the intention of staying awake and maintaining your alertness intact.

Deep down, you harbored the hope that Morpheus would reappear, concerned about your absence from the Dreaming and prepared to patch things up with you after calming himself down. Be that as it may, even though the clock read 4 a.m., there was still no trace of him in your apartment.

You waited, praying with great fervor, and made a tremendous effort not to shed tears over the spilt milk. As the sunlight slowly spread across the sky, you felt completely exhausted and profoundly heartbroken.

Back at work, you felt like a walking dead, moving slowly around the office, typing on your computer, and taking charge of the photography session for your debut collection. Despite witnessing your own creations come to fruition, you couldn't find any joy in anything. The struggle to stay focused on your tasks was overwhelming, leaving you devoid of the happiness you should have felt.

Eventually, it became evident to Ella that you were not behaving like yourself anymore. Out of nowhere, she grasped your arm and silently led you to her office, while informing the rest of the team about your break.

She made you sit on her couch and looked straight into your eyes. "All right, sweetie, it's time to spill the beans.”

You looked at her with a puzzled expression. "What?"

"Don't 'what' me. You've been acting strange since yesterday, so tell me what's going on.”

“Are you asking as my boss?”

“I’m asking as your friend."

After a brief pause, you responded, "It's not a big deal, really.”

“Oh no, I won’t accept that.”

You watched as she filled a couple of empty glasses with a drink. She handed one to you across the coffee table and asked, "Y/N, is your father all right?”

You nodded slightly and took a quick sip of your drink. "Don't worry, he's perfectly fine.”

“What’s bothering you, then?”

You let out a long, anguished sigh, carefully setting the glass down and crossing your fingers over one knee. “I think I broke up with my boyfriend,” you confessed.

‘Was he even my boyfriend in the end?’

She froze in her actions, her eyes widening as she sat up straight, intensely staring at you. "Wait, are you serious? I thought you two were doing really well."

"This time, it was actually my fault. Mostly, at least."

Ella turned her glass in her hand, glancing at the swirling liquid. "Did you have an argument?"

"We did. I made him angry.”

“How?”

You swallowed the growing lump in your throat, crossing your arms and leaning against the back of the couch. Your drink was completely forgotten. "You see, I heard something from someone. It's a secret from his past, something really significant and personal," you explained. “I wanted to ask him about it, but I thought it would be better to just wait and see if he would share it himself. He’s only just started opening up to me and we haven’t known each other for very long.”

Ella smiled warmly at you. "Curiosity always kills the cat. So, did you confront him about it?”

"I did. I just didn't want to keep any secrets from him. Unfortunately, I pushed things a little too far. I touched upon a very sensitive subject, and he didn't appreciate it.”

Ella hummed as she brought her glass to her lips, finishing the last of her drink. "And you haven't spoken since then?”

"No. He doesn't want to see me or hear from me, evidently.”

She licked her lips, savoring the lingering taste of liquor. "Do you love him?”

"I've never loved anyone the way I love him.”

“Does he know that?”

“I…. think he might….?”

Her jaw dropped. "Are you telling me that he doesn't even know about your feelings?”

You shook your head. "It's... complicated. He's different from the other men I've dated.”

“Aren’t they always?”

If only you could explain to her just how different and unique Morpheus was. “I don’t know what to do, Ella. I wish I could apologize to him.”

She pondered for a moment, a wide grin spreading across her face as she realized something. "Why don't you write him a letter?”

“A… letter?”

"I know it may seem old-fashioned, but I did that with Oliver when we broke up a few years ago. It helped me release the emotions I had inside. I opened my heart to him and wrote down everything I felt.”

You blinked in surprise. "You and Oliver broke up…?”

"At least twice. We had our ups and downs, but we managed to work through it.”

You pondered the logistics of sending your personal correspondence to Dream Of the Endless. Was there even a way to communicate with the Dreaming from the Waking World without falling asleep first?

Summoning Matthew, the raven who could travel between the two worlds, seemed like a good way to deliver your message to Dream. However, you were unsure of how to call upon him, as Morpheus was the only one who could track his movements and see through his eyes.

Nevertheless, the concept did not seem like it would be a bad idea to you.

"Thank you, Ella. I will definitely take your suggestion into consideration.”

"Great! Go ahead, reconcile, kiss and make babies!”

“Ella!”

“What?”

Describing Morpheus as restless would be an understatement. Ever since he awakened you from the Dreaming, he had been experiencing excruciating convulsions and constriction in his insides. As a powerful and ancient entity, it was quite atypical for him to experience such physical torment.

Morpheus was enraged, truly. But besides that, he was berating himself for being too quick-witted and allowing his arrogance and pride to take over once again. He was already consumed by self-hatred for his impulsive outburst, and he actually felt more upset with the Kindly Ones than with you.

Despite your efforts to delve deeper into his most agonizing memory, one he had tirelessly tried to bury for eternity, your ultimate objective was for him to confront his guilt and find solace. Unlike everyone else, you didn't accept the Fates' words at face value as they had intended. You managed to keep your encounter with them hidden for over a month, always projecting unwavering confidence and fearlessness in his presence.

In fact, he didn't nourish any hatred towards you. On the contrary, he yearned for your return to the Dreaming, longing to embrace you in his arms. He eagerly awaited your arrival the previous night, but to his dismay, you were nowhere to be found within the depths of his realm.

From a distance, Matthew watched you. And from this, Morpheus understood that you resisted seeking rest and remained anchored to the Waking World until morning. Not only did he make you cry, but he also prevented you from falling asleep.

Would you ever be willing to forgive him for his cruelty? Would you let him take you back, or would you despise him and abandon him like Calliope did before you?

As he became lost in his thoughts, Lucienne cautiously entered the Throne Room. Morpheus sat there like a despondent cat, his long coat draped over the stairs as he perched there.

"My Lord," she said, interrupting his self-loathing. "Something has arrived. I believe this is for you.”

Morpheus glanced up, extending his hand to receive the folded paper that she was holding. “What is it?”

"It seems to be a letter, sir," she said. "I will leave you to it.”

Lucienne spun on her heels and walked away, the sound of her footsteps reverberating off the walls until she disappeared into the library. Morpheus gazed at the paper with curiosity, his name beautifully written on the outside in graceful calligraphy.

In an instant, his heart leaped into his throat, for he knew precisely who had penned it.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 (currently reading) Go to Chapter 11 ->

Read on AO3!

[crimson--freak]

hiiiii :3

i read tags on that post you reblogged for me and i agree that its most likely that kayne is nyarlathotep since it'd pretty much align with cthulhu mythos - it often takes human form to walk the earth and it's character is pretty similar to kayne's. It also acts with seemingly no particular goal again just like kayne! and i can't really think of any other gods in cthulhu mythos that would fit him so well

also I'd love to hear more about that theory of yours ^_^!!!!!!

Aw thanks for asking about this! :D

{Putting this under a cut because this is a lot of information. It’s pretty condensed but still quite long}

Please take in mind that this theory only just popped into my head when I read the post, so this has more holes in it than Emmental cheese.

I was thinking on the fact that Harlan’s post mentioned explicitly that Kayne’s identity will be addressed in season 4, and I was wondering what other things have been added to the podcast this season. Most notably are the characters (Oscar, the Butcher, Daniel, etc. - Noel is a Very Close Contender for being Kayne for me), but we’ve also had some other things at least slightly confirmed. Probably one of the most important things that have been confirmed it the time dilation.

I seem to remember that there were quite a lot of theories around time loops and similar phenomena (I think a few were on @ty-betteridge’s blog but I can’t find the posts for some reason). With Scratch’s apparent ability to live longer in dreams than in the real world, eldritch time dilation is basically canon, as far as we know. This could further open the door to other time-related shenanigans, including time loops, to be canon as well.

It’s also been mentioned in the time loop posts that John could in fact be a future Arthur (I may have got this wrong because it’s been a long time since I caught up on the theories). I personally don’t see that (I don’t know how that would fit in with the KIY stuff) but I do really think there’s going to be some stuff involving timeloops and Arthur and John.

Anyway, enough of that ramble! Let’s get back to the important part: who is Kayne?

I 100% believe Kayne is Nyarlathotep - or at least one version of him. Maybe not the one directly from the Lovecraft source material, but definitely an entity that shares the same role as him in the story. Especially with the common description of Nyarlathotep as “joyous”, and we can defintely say that Kayne is enjoying himself with Arthur’s story.

I say that Kayne may not be entirely based on Lovecraft’s Nyarlathotep, because that entity is described as an Outer God, and this theory hinges on the fact that Kayne’s origin is something much closer to home.

So what are some things that we know for sure about Kayne / Nyarlathotep?

From Lovecraft’s source material: his description tends to be of a “tall, swarthy man” but it’s often noted that he can shapeshift.

From the podcast: he has no canon appearance apart from wearing a black suit (and other details), as described by John in part 20. He is also noted to be playing piano in his first appearance.

He also has an Extreme interest in Arthur’s life, as far as to having “watched [Arthur’s] life unfold”. He wants to find out what’s “different” about Arthur compared to other people.

So here’s my theory:

Kayne is Arthur (+ John) from the future.

If you’re thinking that’s a slightly far fetched, I agree! There are several problems with this theory that I need to iron out. I’m replying to this ask because I hope other people can add to this theory, correct me on things that I got wrong, share some more stuff about Nyarlathotep, etc.

One question with this theory is that surely John would recognise Kayne if he looked like Arthur? Well, that’s already got an answer - Kayne can shapeshift, so probably changed his appearance to throw John off his scent. That might also explain the difference in accent between Arthur and Kayne: Future Arthur!Kayne is trying to be incognito, he doesn’t want Arthur and John to find out who he is.

Another question is why is Arthur!Kayne doing this? The motive I think Arthur!Kayne has is pretty evident: he wants to find out what makes him different, what allowed him to become Kayne. We’ve already been told that Arthur is different to most people in that he can hold a piece of the King in Yellow in his mind without succumbing to their will (compared to Marie’s sister, who was taken over completely by Mr Scratch, and the people who did not survive John’s book). Perhaps this difference allowed Arthur to become Kayne (remember that Kayne discusses hearing voices too, perhaps in a similar manner to John + Yellow in Arthur’s mind). Maybe what sets Arthur on the path to becoming Kayne is… accumulating other parts of Gods? Mr Scratch maybe - Arthur might be strong enough to keep charge of his body and Scratch just lives in his mind like Yellow did (if his plans with the stone go badly).

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

@callernumberthree sorry, it ended up taking a lot longer than expected!

so, for those of you not in the know, it was requested of to make a post about my gravity falls x slay the princess au thing. slay the princess is a good game, you should check it out (though be warned for gore and death and body horror)

anyway, everything’s under the cut!

let’s get the basics out of the way first-

-there are technically two endings that are canonical to this. i don’t know their actual names, but they’re the ones where you become a god and the one where you leave the cabin with the princess

-this au is centered around ford and stan. ford takes the role of the hero, stan takes the role of the princess (this will be explained in just a bit)

-the long quiet and the shifting mound are separate from the stans. this will also be explained in just a bit

-the echo is a shattered splinter of bill, left over from the memory gun. he does not know who he is, nor does he really know who ford or stan is. ford does not recognize him either, because of how fragmented bill is. he wants to kill stan because stan killed him, even if he doesn’t remember it. he knows that there’s something more to the situation (the shifting mound and the long quiet), but he’s really only using it as a motivator for ford

-the voices are technically also fragmented bits of ford. every time he dies, and things reset, it causes another version of him to appear. different timelines, different dimensions, different multiverses, who knows really? all i know is our friend voice of the smitten has been changed. his entire thing is that he is in love with the princess, but that doesn’t work for this au. instead, i think it would be interesting if he’s the only version of ford that can truly recognize stan, aside from the hero. the hero is the true ford, just as the true stan is trapped in the basement

-stan does change with each splitting path, too- or the reflection of him being puppeted by the shifting mound does, anyway

alright! now for the explanations i promised:

why is ford the hero (and the long quiet)?

-voices/multiverse connection

-harassed by manipulative entity that wants him to violence

-‘do this or the world ends’

-the long quiet fits him better in general

why is stan the princess (and the shifting mound)?

-it’s all about perception. stan is very much based around others perception of him. it felt like it fit. he has many masks (and maybe, just maybe, ford can find the true face)

why are the long quiet and the shifting mound separate from the stans?

y’know how possession works? yeah, so it’s sorta like that, but not. the physical bodies belong to the long quiet and shifting mound, they are made of them. and yet, they are ford and stan. ford, the hero, tags along the journey and gives his thoughts and can influence the actions of the body to some extent. stan is the face of the shifting mound, and envelops its personalities. he is not the shifting mound, though, and ford is not the long quiet

this is what it really comes down to- everyone wants different things

the echo, the fragment of bill, wants stan to die. he will do whatever he can to get ford there, even though he has no idea who either of them are

the long quiet and the shifting mound want to reunite, even if takes a while for them to realize that’s what they are and what they want

ford and stan? they just want to stop killing each other, for fucks sake. they’re not even entirely aware of what’s going on, but stan doesn’t like mauling ford and ford doesn’t like stabbing stan

it goes like this: ford awakes on a forest trail on a starry night. he makes his way down the trail, at the persistence of a certain voice, and comes across the shack. inside he finds a knife. in the basement, he finds his brother. in the end, they kill each other, no matter what they choose. it goes like this again and again, until ford and his multitudes are faced with the mirror and discarded upon the long quiet viewing itself in it. it looks like ford. it meets the shifting mound, holding a vessel. it looks like stan

this goes on again and again and again and again and again until everything shatters

ford, the hero, finds himself at the heart of it all. his body, the long quiet, finds itself enveloped in the all encompassing presence of the shifting mound

ford, leaving the knife behind, journeys into the basement and finds stan- the true stan. he offers a hand. his brother takes it. at the same time, the long quiet and the shifting mound join hands and shed their skin, then their muscles, then their nerves, then their blood, then their bones, until nothing remains of what used to be their vessels. they don’t need them anymore. they are everything and nothing. they are all and none

ford leads stan out of the basement, and then out of the shack, and then they are free

[luvwich]

so i've been using Obsidian for a couple months as the home base for all my fic writing, and have been thrilled so far! i dig its simple layout, powerful feature set, and there are tons of plugins to customize what you need. also love that it works across devices and syncs to your iCloud (rather than syncing to their own servers). and that it's free for personal use.

it has some interesting features like "canvas" and "graph" type documents (i have one of the latter that tries to graph relationships between characters and entities in my story) but most value i've been getting has been from plugins

main plugins i've been using:

Copy document as HTML -- very handy when it's time to post a chapter to AO3. it means i can embed the html for text conversations right in my Obsidian doc, and it'll display in a readable format while inside the doc, but the HTML all gets copied smoothly, along with and <strong> tags for italicized and bold parts (which is HUGE because it solves the problem where copying text with italics from Google Docs or other apps will end up adding weird extra spaces when pasted in the ao3 markdown editor)

Novel word count -- shows word counts for individual documents, but also will show the aggregate counts for entire folders/subfolders. super useful when you have a folder for a multi-chapter work and individual docs for each chapter

Word sprint -- lets you run sprints right from within the editor, keeps track of word counts and goals, shows motivational messages if you pause writing during the sprint

OneLook thesaurus -- no link because this is a plugin I wrote myself (but can provide the code if anyone's interested), but this uses the same API as OneLook to return results right in the editor. you can click to replace a word, check its definition, or add it to the search. the wordy plugin does something similar but i wanted a slightly different UI.

anyway it's been a game changer so far, 10/10 now it's time to do some sprints while i'm still on vacay~

i also just use it in place of my Notes app for random brain dumps and reminders

[spoonck]

refuting that one reviewer on here

I strongly suspect I’ll be blocked, so I’m pasting what I said here before anything else happens. This is basically a response to that snarky review we’ve all seen

Anyway to respond to their points: the game refutes most of the reviewers assumptions, if not ALL of them.

the majority of the “points” made here are based off of personal opinion, which is not really valid for the sake of this review. The reviewer keeps alluding to different types of media with similar premises, but who’s Lila is NOT westworld. It ISNT slay the princess. If you want those games, play them. If not, don’t bitch because the game you’re playing isn’t like them.

imagine if I went into a restaurant and ordered a cheeseburger. Upon eating it I exclaim “hey! This is nothing like my favorite restaurants! That makes it bad!” But if I wanted my favorite restaurants food, I should have eaten there, shouldn’t I?

as for the “points” about the characters being uninteresting.. buddy. Go through the ao3 tag. Go through the tumblr and Twitter tags. This game clearly has a very dedicated and active fan base. Are you saying all of them are objectively wrong for enjoying it? Or is it that you simply don’t like it and they do?

and to the final point- you seem to have taken a very superficial look at this game. “That means the game is superficial.” Is it? Or were you simply unwilling to give it any more of your time than you deemed worthy? If you set into playing something with the mindset you won’t enjoy it, you probably won’t enjoy it, and that seems to be what happened here.

as for your last arguments regarding Lila and tulpamancy- this is how I can tell you didn’t play the game very thoroughly. Lila ISNT a tulpa. She ISNT Lilith. Her entire point is to deceive the player with what she might be, so as to keep your attention. Now you have said you don’t find her captivating. Good for you! Doesn’t make it bad.

Something I also want to point out, is that the reviewer states that Lila is a mouthpiece for the author. This directly indicates the authors naïveté to me. The author is assuming the game is going to turn to them during one of Lila‘s monologues and directly tell them Lila is being manipulative. Lila should not be trusted in this instance. The reviewer is indicating that they do not have the reading comprehension to understand that Lila is manipulative and not to be trusted. The game all over backwards to indicate that Lila is a liar that is not trustworthy. It’s all but spelled out for the player that Lila is manipulating William in every scene which she speaks to him. if the reviewer does not understand this, it is not the fault it reads the player has simply skimmed through the game and taken everything at face value. Because the game has told them something, it must be narratively true. when in reality, the exact opposite is true. yes, who is Lila is open to player interpretation, however, that does not mean the exact opposite of these things are true. The reviewer is being intentionally dense in their understanding of the game and not giving it the full credit deserves.

Who’s Lila deliberately lured in the player with thoughts of what might be happening. It sets you up to believe that William is a “crossdressing killer” (seriously op? Shame on you.) and that Lila is some generic supernatural entity. Then it shatters your expectations to- once again- reel you in.

Overall, you don’t have to like it. But this game has a very dedicated and loving fan base. Don’t post shit about it and get surprised pikachu face when people are irritated with your generic superficial take which is ultimately boiled down to “I don’t like it, so you’re stupid for liking it, because I’m so much smarter than you.”

mic drop.

[lactoseintolerentswag]

OC lore? 👀

AJSNSUBSJSN I'm assuming this ask is referring to my silly tags here?

Well!! I guess I could be a big boy and talk abt my guys 👉👈. Gonna warn off the bat though they're not rottmnt or tmnt related they're my home brew pals and I'll try to keep it short but.

Hard to when my timeline feels like this

So kudos if any of y'all stick around for the entire post.

World-Building Context:

Urban/modern fantasy genre dipping its toes in eco horror

So basically everyone and everything has this thing called aura (I KNOW BARE WITH ME). It's not visible to the naked eye but everyone's aura is different and specific to them like a fingerprint

When I mean Everything has aura I mean the animals, the plants, the rocks, buildings, etc. The Earth has a whole has its own aura

Spirits are born of Earth's excess aura. Spirits are nebulous empathic entities that communicate through emotion rather than words. They mostly take after animal-adjacent beings (like a giant bird with multiple eyes and a dog's snout) or sometimes mimic objects (like a tea kettle with legs). However, they never appear as human or humanoid

Spirits can bond to places, objects, and people!!! When a spirit bonds with a human it creates a familiar bond

Benefits to the bond: cool sick aura powers for the human that mimicks the ability of the familiar. In turn the familiar gets to feed on the bonded's emotions--lengthening their life span

The later of which is completely harmless to the bondee. A spirit and a person cannot bond unless they have a compatible aura, so to put it in perspective it's like finding someone who has a fingerprint that fills the gaps in your own

Effects of familiar bond: the bondee and familiar will begin to physically change to resemble one another. Not extremely. Someone could grow claws and their familiar's eyes would turn into their color. As stated before you get sick powers, which can be passed down generationally but will get diluted and or evolve into something else

Now spirits used to be widely respected and revered as our equals and sometimes even protectors. It was an honor to have a familiar bond or be passed down a spirit ability from a family member

Things took a turn when a movement that feared spirits as agents of the devil, and claimed people with spirit abilities were corrupted (proven by their changed physical traits), gained momentum in early modern Europe. Many were burned and or executed as witches

This fear permeated throughout the rest of western colonial times and resulted in laws that banned any bonding to spirits. These laws were maintained to present day, accompanied by several scientific discoveries made to deteer spirits (altering a stone's aura to make empathic sound waves unbearable to spirits)

Many present day cities have never even seen a spirit before as they are protected by obelisks made to keep spirits out. There are also many companies who profit off of spirit security through making mass produced charms and the equivalent of spirit bear spray

It's not common to be born with generationally passed spirit abilities but it's also not rare. Think about around the same percent of people born with green eyes are born with spirit abilities

Little Ridge is an old mining turned tourist town founded in the height of the gold rush in the Pacific Northwest in the U.S.

Little Ridge is an epicenter for inexplicable spirit activity. There have been more recorded spirits haunting the forest there than anywhere else. There are also naturally occurring stone obelisks that move on their own

What they're most famous for is the cave mine in which miners kept disappearing and returning with their skin peeled off. So Eventually the mine was closed despite having lucrative minerals. Mind you there is also a spring connected to this abandoned cave mine

In the 1970's New inexplicable happenings kicked off in Little Ridge. A disease was spreading around spirits. Corrupting their form and mind leading them into a state of frenzy. This disease followed similar symptoms to rabies. The infected spirits were labeled as "demons" and were actively sought after to be put down

Doctor Seong-gi Moon, was among the notable animaologists (a scientist who studies spirits) that was reached out to by U.S.'s defense branch to conduct research on the demon phenomenon in Little Ridge. Seong-gi accepted, was even given a grant from his university, and moved his family from South Korea to settle down in Little Ridge

For the first time a fence was constructed to keep spirits out of Little Ridge, and it was deemed safe to resume tourism

This story's present takes place in the years between 1995-2000

Main Cast:

Iris Moon (starts 12 ends 17, she/her): our main character!!! A gangly reckless girl who struggles against authority and has an obsessive fascination with spirits. Has a terrible case of tunnel vision and sticks her nose into other's people's business for the sake of her curiosity. Has a habit of taking care of people while maintaining an emotional distance through being a mouthy pain in the ass. She grew up moving around a lot, state to state, in and out of trailer parks and hotels. She's now living with her uncle in this small town.

Jung-ho (John) Moon (starts 27 ends 31, he/him): Iris's uncle. Taciturn and routine strict like his father (Seong-gi) but gentle like his mother. Despite his overall disdain for people stemming from his awkwardness he's really good with kids. Works as an automobile mechanic and. Other things. Grew up in Little Ridge, many of the town folk know him as John or Johnny. Wears glasses with one black lens. Owns a cat named Sticky with one eye. He is now tasked with raising his niece.

Daniel (Danny) Luna Rivera (starts 14 ends 18, he/him): Danny is in his loud and abrasive angsty teenager phase. A people pleaser at heart and currently victim to his asshole friends, at least they introduced him to alternative style. Starts out as a minor antagonist constantly keeping watch on Iris and his brother, the latter of which he cares about more than he will ever admit. Looks up to Jung-Ho, as that's the only adult who has never let him down. They're also working on a project to restore Danny a cool car. He has metal manipulation abilities and has a lot of piercings he will mold in case of emergency. Redemption arc sibling.

Miguel Luna Rivera (starts as 9 ends as 14, he/him. For now.) Miguel is a goddamn nerd and has a hard time connecting to people and spends a lot of time playing mediator. Has a lot of pent up anger, but is doing amazing in school. Very talented with math and technology (computers specifically) and spends a lot of time at his local radio shack. Looks up to both Jung-Ho and Iris. The later fills a void where the sister he accidentally killed at the age of 3 left. Isn't allowed anywhere without Danny around to babysit, but Iris is a horrible influence and teaches him to sneak. Corruption arc sibling.

It's difficult to explain my last girlie without loosely explaining what I would consider this story's first chapter. So

Chapter One-ish Outline:

> Iris is driven by CPS to go live with her Uncle John who she hasn't seen since she was like 4. She has an arm cast and a crummy attitude

>Jung-ho does his best to give her enough space while also keeping her entertained. Ends up getting a call and having to go to work

>Iris is brought along as Jung-ho fumbles with what to do, she's clearly bored and it's kind of dangerous for her so he gives her his watch telling her what time to come back and some money to go explore historical downtown

>Iris wanders around picking up some vague history here and there in the background. Everyone recognizes her as Johnny's niece. Up at the playground at the fence's edge. Curious she goes to inspect but is interrupted by Danny

>Danny gets into an argument with her about how she's being stupid and how unsafe it is for Her (someone without spirit abilities) to be this close to the fence. Miguel, who was playing. Ends up talking his brother into leaving her alone to go to the nearby convenience store

>Iris disregards what Danny said and cuts the fence with wire cutters since she can't climb with her broken arm. As for why a 12 year old girl has wire cutters? Something she picked up from living with her Mon

>Entertains herself in the woods and has 3 encounters. One where she passes one of the naturally occurring stone obelisks that had an eye carved into it, one where she runs into a spirit that has her standing still in fear. It's almost deer like, but its neck is too long and has too many horns. She leaves an apple from her bag and it leaves her alone. And finally she sees a figure stumbling around

>Upon closer inspection the figure is drenched in blood. All over her blank face and dripping down the only piece of clothing she seems to be wearing, a white gown. No shoes or socks. Iris calls out to see if the girl needs help, but isn't given a response. So, Iris wrangles her own jacket onto her, and wordlessly uses her free hand to guide them out of the woods

>In a nearby diner's bathroom Iris uses paper towels to the best of her abilities to clean this girl's face off. She lets her keep the jacket to cover up the mess on her front. The girl had no wounds of her own

>Iris orders them burgers at the diner and they sit at a booth to talk. Well Iris talks and the girl blankly stares at her. She only responds after Iris belatedly introduces herself, first and last name. The girl waits to eat until after taking her burger apart piece by piece to examine each ingredient, and shortly and quietly responds to Some of Iris's questions

>No she wasn't lost, no she wasn't in danger, and her name is Lucie which is scrawled in poor and shakey handwriting on Iris's cast after prompting

>Of Course with a broken fence predictably a demon is going to come through. One that is vaguely giant wolf shaped with no eyes and bleeding an impossible amount (it's more of a representation of blood as spirits nor demons have bodily fluids)

>It causes chaos and Danny jumps in to defend people, but really all he's doing is cornering a dangerous and hurt animalistic being, while Miguel runs off to go get Jung-ho. Iris steps in naively to keep him from killing it, snapping at him to take a look and see that it's badly wounded and probably scared

>Before it can snap its jaws at them both Lucie interferes by putting her hands on either side of its neck. For a moment everyone is stock still. And then the blood stops draining out of the demon, it starts to shrink, and reforms back into it's original state resembling a jackelope. The spirit runs off back into the woods in a spooked frenzy leaving everyone baffled. The only way to cure a demon is to shoot it dead.

>It's time for Jung-Ho and the police to enter the scene as he furiously and worriedly makes sure everyone is okay. Under his attention Iris missed the moment where Lucie slunk off. Taking her jacket along with her.

>Much later in the evening, back at Uncle John's house, Iris will be unpacking her things in her new room. Jung-ho quickly runs up the stairs to scold her some more as he and the search team found her jacket folded over the fence that had been cut open. Although Iris is a little distracted by the forget-me-nots stashed into the jacket's pockets to listen. And of course she's grounded

---

SO THERE!!!! This is a very tiny glimpse into my bbgirl wip project that has ruled my life since I was 12. It would be cool to post art of my dudes here when I get the courage. Also. Again. Kudos to everyone who made it here to the end of my rambling :>

[thesherrinfordfacility]

LWA: The poster is right that the characters have deviated far from their originals, and not just because so much of their dialogue got swapped around in S1. Gaiman has confused matters because /he/ insists that the characters are fundamentally the same, even though the TV incarnations behave in ways that are implausible for their novel versions. A few years ago, I saw a Tumblr post that said, roughly, that if Novel!Crowley had tried the wall slam he would be made to see the error of his ways very quickly, and...yeah. That being said, S1 is an adaptation in dialogue with the original--a lot of what's interesting occurs in the dynamic engagement /between/ S1 and the novel, as opposed to saying that the novel /explains/ S1 or anything afterwards. I think that the novel's conclusions about "messing about," for example, are on the table for the S3 endgame, but I don't think that they'll be articulated the same way, or perhaps even have the same meaning in their new context.

S3 is a different beast because, among other things, it cannot be whatever Gaiman and Pratchett sketched out. Gaiman does a lot of retconning, to put it politely, and it seems dubious that the moves he makes at the end of S2 could set up the original plan (for starters, Gabriel had to be ported out because he had been injected into S1, and presumably would have been swanning away as Supreme Archangel otherwise ; there was no need to get C & A back on the clock because, technically, they weren't off it at the end of the original novel; TV!Aziraphale's religious trauma/cult abuse allegory is entirely foreign to Novel!Aziraphale's characterization, so whatever his motivations were, they couldn't have been that; etc.). Moreover, Gaiman has so depoliticized the original, beyond very loosey-goosey-hand-wavy type things, that it also isn't clear that we're going to get the kind of "tear down the system!!!" plot that a lot of fans seem to expect. Gaiman himself is very non-tear-down-systemy, and while it's hardly unheard of for authors to experiment in narrative with politics they don't hold, I wouldn't be surprised if the end result was less BURN IT ALL DOWN and more "hey, here's an exit strategy for other angels and demons who want out."

LWA!!!!✨ glad you saw that post, wondered if you might have a word or two to say on it!!!

i completely agree that where aziraphale and crowley's characterisation is concerned, it can't follow - what i presume - would have been their intentioned continuation following the end of the book and going into a sequel. i love how they are presented in the book, but as i tried (very badly) to explain in the tags of that post, i can't fully conflate them and how they are presented on screen. i personally therefore look to distance the two as if, frankly, they are entirely different characters. as you say though, some of the most intriguing choices are in how their traits, motivations, backgrounds, and their interactions/inner thought processes are translated to screen (as well as what has been chosen to be translated to screen; what is missed out/not depicted going from book > show is equally as interesting as what is).

however, i do think there is still potential, with s3, in revisiting the political analogy the book depicted (as did s1 to a certain extent); aziraphale is now in the heart of it, and i don't think it would be too out of field to say we might, respectively, see a lot more of the inner machinations of heaven than we have up to now. if we accept that there continues to be a litany of parallels between GO and the cold war for the characters personally (aziraphale and crowley, as well as multiple entities in the book/s1 (tracy/shadwell, anathema/newt, the them/johnsonites) are posed as adversaries to each other), it stands to reason that there would be a similar track upon which the story itself might very loosely follow, going into s3.

focusing solely on s1/book for a moment, we have the themes of espionage and surveillance made manifest by multiple references; agents meeting in st james' park or the museum (and aziraphale and crowley meeting in public places in general), crowley's comedic-but-insightful penchant for (and attempted embodiment of?) james bond, and aziraphale's list of professions that he's essentially used as covers since eden. the clandestinely-worded phone calls, the backdoor intelligence sharing between michael and ligur, constant means of surveillance that can be accessed at any point given the inclination, and the sitreps fed back to their respective superiors (to varying degrees of interest).

similarly - on a really basic level - we can look to the environment the story finds itself in. humanity - and earth by extension - is being divided up into good and evil, collectively under an overarching threat of punishment regardless. two higher powers with opposing, but equally faulted, ideologies carve up earth as its playground for an ulterior purpose irrespective of the consequences for those around and below them, who get no say in the matter. agents are sent across the borders on friendly liaison missions but with the covert assignment to gather intelligence, spread propaganda, and report back on what the opposition is doing. both are reluctant to make the first move into provoking out-and-out conflict because of the potential retaliation it could bring upon them, and instead employ means of spreading their own influence on those that will sway to one side or the other, and tip the scales that way instead.*

*albeit debatable where heaven's concerned.

but looking to the events of s1/book vs. cold war itself; a big example for me, and im sure im not the only one to have recognised or chuckled sensibly about it, is metatron's line: "we thought a multi-nation, nuclear exchange would be a nice start!". so, frankly, let's accept that armageddon is a direct...ish parallel for the cuban missile crisis. that would, on face value (because, in true GO fashion, everything gets reimagined and adapted for the narrative), make sense: a stand-off between two immensely powerful entities of the same original stock, both possessing equal power and capability, and both threatening to annihilate the other "just to see whose gang is best". obviously, armageddon doesn't resolve in the same exact way, but nonetheless both sides withdraw in the full knowledge that a reckoning is still likely to occur, and both are only kept at bay in a stalemate of what i think both heaven and hell secretly recognise to be, and are afraid will be, mutually assured destruction. a potential trump card lies in the second coming, to be sure, but in any case, as aziraphale and crowley discuss on the bench: this isn't the end of it.

but at which point, how far do we extend the analogy? given that real-world context has shifted between the times of the book and the show, how far can it extend, and how relevant would it be? well, arguably, it still is; recent conflict has proven this, and beyond that, even if the cold war has long ended, there is always conflict, and conflict because of opposing views thinking they are superior to the other. it isn't a complete analogy, but has enough similarity to be relevant. in which case, we could presumably look for an event in which there has been a symbolic sense of liberation and personal freedom, and apply that to be, potentially, the blueprint for the resolution of s3. my first thought would be the berlin wall.

because if we consider that heaven in the most rudimentary sense follows along the same lines as USSR/communist regime, the wall was built by the soviets. it was (and im really stringing this out, and grossly oversimplifying it - forgive me) built to prevent defection from east to west germany, to cut off east germany from the exaggerated allure of capitalism, and as a way to even up the power imbalance. whilst obviously not in any physicality, it's not too inconceivable that heaven would take a similar stance, in terms of policy, when it came to the fall - especially when considering how gabriel's intended punishment for subverting armageddon 2.0 was not to be condemned to fall and go to hell, but instead to be kept within the confines of heaven, hit with memory erasure, and a significant demotion to a role (and by extension choir/rank) that would keep him firmly under heaven's thumb.

furthermore, if we accept that the fall is the first notion of free will, ie. the choice to step away from a regime where your efforts are only in the interest of the state (👀 AWCW and his stars being for the purpose of fulfilling god's plan that will also see their dispassionately executed destruction in 6000 years, or so aziraphale explains 👀), then that's presumably the parallel advantage that hell offers. aziraphale even says, "surely the great thing about being a demon is that you can do whatever you want!"; crawly points out readily that aziraphale sounds jealous, no matter how quickly he tries to disparage that assessment.

however, if we consider that hell by extension of the analogy (getting more and more contrived by the minute) does represent the US/capitalism, how much of free will offered by hell is an illusion? well, arguably, it is an illusion; crowley seems more at liberty to do what he wants "as long as they get the paperwork", but he is readily pulled back to hell at any given moment, and equally under close surveillance throughout both s1 and 2. the grass is very rarely greener, depending on your circumstances, and there's no guarantee of anything that remotely resembles true freedom.

so let's go back to the berlin wall. quick, reductive summary (mainly to help me in trying to explain my thought process); the wall physically represented, and assured, the divide between the two 'sides', and when gorbachev's leadership started to reform how the previously hard-line regime was held in the eastern bloc, east germany started to take great interest in how this may lead to their own liberation too. east german military refused to fire on protestors, and many citizens went into hungary and austria, and back out into west germany once border controls had been relaxed. ultimately, in 1989, the barrier was opened, and piece by piece the berlin wall was brought down. germany later reunified, and the USSR was dissolved.

so, when talking about an "exit strategy for [those] who want out", i think this could have the potential to be extremely relevant - maybe not so literally, and not so much emphasis on the dissolution of heaven being the end goal, but more that removal of the divide between the two, allowing anyone and everyone to make their own choice for themselves - and do with their existence as they will, without fear of retribution - might be the answer. the cessation of being 'messed about'; not only from the viewpoint of how humanity is treated as a playground for these higher beings, but how the angels and demons themselves are messed about with, in turn, for ideologies/beliefs/purposes they possibly don't even truly understand anymore, and were only spoonfed in the first place.

whilst i do think, to some extent, that the focus of GO has shifted somewhat from the idea of liberation on a political level, and is more focused on that of a personal kind, the two for me can still go hand-in-hand. imo, both aziraphale and crowley still currently embody some of the ideals that keep them on opposite ends of the compass; crowley often acts (for a number of very good reasons) very individualist. aziraphale similarly often acts very collectivist. that being said, there are key moments where they cross over - it's not, ahem, as black-and-white as ive just reduced it to - and this only serves to highlight where the balance between the two speaks to true sense of self, morality, and subsequent liberation from having a 'side' at all. it makes sense that in s3 they would continue to exist in the grey, if they prove to be a driving force in how the overall story resolves - not to mention how it would contribute to the resolution of their own romantic subplot.

the crux of the matter is that, in the bigger picture, these two sides are not so fundamentally different; both, at the top of their respective circuses, instil a sense of, "the other side is the worse side, look! they are the opposition, they threaten everything that is right! they deserve to be eradicated!". and when it comes to those underneath them, the performers, it's much the same; that there is no difference whatsoever, and in fact you'll probably find you have more in common with your adversary, your opposite number, than you do with those above you - those that only value power, the security it brings to their own ends, and being the side to hold the most of it.

so having the freedom to choose, as far as i see it, comes from recognising that one isn't better than the other, and that there is no simple good vs evil; both define and give meaning to the other, and are often, depending on how you approach it, the same thing. it's all about perspective - seeing it, understanding it, and keeping it - and to be allowed to choose based on what you think is right... and what could mean a happy and fulfilling existence. however, to give that opportunity any credible foothold, it only works "if you start everyone off equal". maybe that might be the difference that aziraphale makes.

don't know if you observe/celebrate, LWA, but happy holidays to you and yours!!!✨💕

[stealingyourbones]

I posted 4,197 times in 2022

That's 4,179 more posts than 2021!

1,318 posts created (31%)

2,879 posts reblogged (69%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@stealingyourbones

@plotwholls

@bonebrokebuddy

@gilbirda

@edgemcjee

I tagged 3,528 of my posts in 2022

Only 16% of my posts had no tags

#danny phantom - 1,209 posts

#dp x dc - 1,171 posts

#dc comics - 1,065 posts

#writing prompts - 1,006 posts

#dpxdc - 920 posts

#dp x dc prompt - 810 posts

#and the thick plotens - 780 posts

#bones replies - 599 posts

#bones prompts - 491 posts

#dc - 309 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#the “’don’t u tell me u don’t know who i am’ ‘bro i literally have never seen you in my life’ interaction was almost exactly the emotions-

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Concept that I feel hasn’t been tapped into with dp x dc:

John Constantine begrudgingly being pals with Danny Phantom. When Danny was just barley ghost king, John summons him in some way to loophole his way out of another deal with a different entity he’s made a contract with. Ya know, a good ol “I’ll sell my soul to multiple entities so they can’t claim my soul or else start a war fighting for it and instead make myself unable to die” for the nth time. Danny doesn’t accept because the concept of owning someone’s soul as unnerving and not morally correct but helps John in whatever situation is needed and John is just bamboozled because he didn’t need to con and loophole his way out of whatever situation he was in and this strange ghost boy is doing it willingly and only asks to stop for some fast food after the fight as payment.

This is the start of a whole bunch of wild circumstances that make John Constantine summon/meet up with phantom to fix some dark magic shenanigans because Danny is one hell of a powerful entity and he doesn’t worry about having to owe back Danny in favors or debts that are magically binding which is a really nice change of pace.

Personally I imagine the vibe that the fandom has decided John and Billy Batson dynamic is like: A Concerned and frankly pitiful attempt of a parental figure with a kid who’s powerful enough to end the world if they felt like it. Added onto that is John freaking out because ‘why did the universe give this freaking child so much power holy shit oh god this could end absolutely terribly what the hell do I do’

Just Constantine and Danny combatting and stopping demons and curses of the hellish variety and just slowly meeting the magic users of the Justice League before meeting everyone as a gradual set up of Constantine, Justice League member, & Danny, stopping smaller arcane based entities/artifacts from causing damage to the world. Ending in Danny meeting the entire Justice League and stopping an insane threat and letting everyone really know just how powerful he is.

OR Constantine calling Danny for some big scale Justice league issue and the magic users freaking the hell out because ‘how the hell does John fuckin Constantine have a leader of an entire dimension/realm in his back pocket for emergency contacts and why do they have a good relationship with eachother’ ?!

3,678 notes - Posted July 25, 2022

#4

Submitted Prompts #5

After Danny became the Ghost King, the entire magic community learned that the King was available for summons again. Slight issue: Danny is different from the previous King. His summoning circle has completely different requirements that everyone is rushing to figure out for their own purpose.

3,848 notes - Posted November 26, 2022

#3

So what if the “No metas in Gotham” thing scared Danny Fenton away from Gotham City?

What if Danny gets a grant or scholarship at Central City University?

What if Danny gets an internship job as an assistant Forensic Scientist at the Central City Police Department?

Ok so hear me out:

The Rouges in Central City are much more chill and jokey than most superhero protected cities and have a good relationship with The Flash and would remind Danny of Amnity in that sense.

Danny’s entire obsession with protection and also a likely mentality of “Police and law enforcement have been horrible to me in the past so I will do everything I can to make sure what happens to me happens to no one else” would make him strive to be an honest protector of the people. He could be a cop and Barry Allen works with him because he knows that Danny isn’t corrupt. A reverse Batman and Jim Gordon if you will. He could also be a Forensic Scientist that recently joined CCPD and Barry Allen is assigned to be his mentor to show him the ropes. Either way The Flash grows to respect and care for this really strange kid who’s eyes sometimes look green as a trick of the light.

Danny using his powers to help solve murders, crimes, and ghostly shenanigans in Central City by talking to the local paranormal entities and recently deceased and pretending that he just is really really good at his job (well he is, but he has a bit of ghostly help.)

The Flash and Kid Flash notice this strange white haired meta zipping around and go to meet him and find out that he’s roughly Wally’s age. The speed force feels a bit strange around this kid, Like he’s been a part of multiple time altering changes. He doesn’t seem malicious though and the kid is really funny so Barry is going to let this ghostly meta do his own thing.

Phantom and The Flash start teaming up. Having an extra person in a battle is always nice. The Flash also notices that this Phantom kid is always DELIGHTED to fight Captain Cold. What The Flash expected to be a long battle that would end in almost frostbite and a long night with little to no sleep ended up being a five minute excursion. The Phantom reveling in the low temperatures and freezing Captain Cold’s cold gun and feet with a more crystalline and shinier type of ice. Instantly ending the battle.

Phantom fights Abra Kadabra and loudly complains to Abra while fighting how stupid Abra’s gimmick is and that it doesn’t look like real magic.

Phantom helps dismantle Weather Wizards plan to blot out the sun by simply turning the giant storm clouds that the Wizard summoned into snow.

The Flash is completely dumbfounded when the Reverse Flash shows up at his work, taunts Barry Allen, when Phantom comes out of nowhere, possesses The Reverse Flash, who then asks the location of the nearest containment facility that’ll house a speedster. Danny/Reverse Flash proceeds to run himself to the location, lock himself in, and exit Thawne’s body. The amount of awe Barry feels can’t even be put to words. Barry Allen’s arch nemesis. Defeated by a ghostly kid who has bi weekly hangouts with his nephew to binge watch D-list horror movies. What the fuck.

Danny has a great relationship with Barry. The two quickly bond over being quippy and aren’t annoyed when the other is consistently late to every possible meet up. Danny is incredibly dexterous and knows his way around the lab and Barry is happy to chat with someone who happily will talk back and ramble on about their life and has a genuine want to help others.

If Barry asks Batman on tips with how to take care of an overworked and constantly exhausted kid that’s between him and the Bat.

Barry mentally adopts this strange coworker and if he spotted the kid behind the CCPD building turning into Phantom? That’s none of his business and for Danny to reveal to him on his own time.

3,898 notes - Posted July 27, 2022

#2

I saw one of your Short DPXDC Prompts and was inspired by this….

I understand that cloning a Kryptonian was not easy for Luthor's people, so they added human DNA…

but I remember that it has been mentioned in some places that treatments/conditions are needed to mix the DNA of the two species and that they are mostly only accessible in Superman's fortress…

So I got to this madness… Somehow, (possibly GIW or even Vlad) Danny's ectoplasm gets to Luthor Corp. and some scientist had the bright idea to use it as a stabilizer, it wasn't enough to stabilize a Kryptonian Clone, but for a Human/Kryptonian hybrid. ..

And of course, nobody knew that said chemical substance was DNA of the new King of the Infinite Realms…

Mikami your MIND-

This is just beautiful. What would that make Connor? 1/4 ghost? 1/8th ghost? Idk but using halfa DNA to bind the two different species DNA together is SO GOOD dude.

Looks like Connor has another Dad and he’ll do anything to find him and get some answers

4,494 notes - Posted October 12, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Danny is walking along in Gotham and trips and falls into a massive puddle. Instead of making a splash or hitting the cold wet floor, he simply goes through the ground and turns invisible as he falls.

Now imagine you are a Gotham vigilante just chilling on the rooftops and you see this scrawny ass black haired kid just eat shit and fall face first toward a puddle and just sink into the puddle with barley even a ripple. Completely vanishing from sight. The bafflement and chaos that would ensue from that… truly marvelous.

5,498 notes - Posted August 11, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[tacticalhimbo]

Hi, I wonder if you have some theory / thoughts about damnatio memoriae ending, losing faith and his (worsen?) mental state.

I'm not Catholic but the connection between mental health and faith is one of my favorite issues to talk about.

Also why Gary tried to make John as the new vessel?

Thanks!

Hey, thank you so much for asking!

I personally see the loss of faith having a few possible explanations! And Gary's focus on John is entirely intentional, both from a mental health standpoint and a general-ish standpoint.

A recap for the general audience (and myself, because I had to look a few things up since it's been a while):

The ending, "A New Vessel" is accompanied by the soundtrack (and text, if I believe) Damnatio Memoriae, which comes to mean a "condemnation of memory", akin to where a person or event is stricken from all official records.

As for the plot of the ending, here's the Wiki's summary -> On the day of the Profane Sabbath, Ward finds his house surrounded by cult members and unlocks the crucifix-riddled door. Inside he confronts Amy, and he begs for the nightmares to end. Amy drags him into her gaping portal, and John finds himself at the abandoned Martin house in complete disrepair, somehow much worse than it was only a month ago. Inside, he discovers that the twins he's been searching for throughout the entire story never existed. Nancy, Amy's mother, miscarried the twins, but was in complete denial of it, going so far as to host a birthday party for them. Eventually, John finds two effigies in their room and succumbs to his despair. Amy and Michael appear and take his hands before a giant demonic hand appears and swallows them up. Then the entire Martin house vanishes.

Please let me know if this needs to be tagged! I also apologize for any grammar errors, I got excited to answer this and I'd just woken up, so my brain isn't all there yet sdjdkdkd—

I'll put my thoughts below the cut, though, because this got more wordy than I'd thought ^^;

In regards to John's deteriorating faith, the explanation for why his faith is so weak/withers so easily is dependent on how the game's plot is interpreted (at least, in my opinion). So, to circle back to some of the points I made in my first solid meta post regarding John [LINK], I'll break down the two primary perceptions.

If assuming everything happening is 100% real and John's perspective is reliable:

It's simply a matter of fighting a losing battle. Seeing your faith be challenged so successfully (re: multiple dead priests, a church taken over by demonic entities, etc) is... a lot!

As someone who's loosely Catholic (vaguely raised, abandoned, and now on the fence of re-converting), the main lesson people are taught is that sin and evil are two very powerful things. They swallow and consume a person. They're what made the world the place it is today, and why humanity could not remain in the Garden of Eden. Of course, the emphasis put on these points and the way they're told is variable on the individual church's belief system (re: the difference between "normal" Catholics and fascist Evangelicals), but that's besides the point.

So John seeing that happen over and over and over, and ultimately failing to save Amy, is just tiring. It's draining. He realizes by the end of Chapter 3 that he's lost, and Gary has won. Gary was right.

However, if assuming that either everything was "in John's head" (lack of better phrasing), or that some things were true but exaggerated by John's mental health:

Then I believe that John's loss of motivation/faith could genuinely be him coming out of an episode and perceiving the gravity of everything.

This is a bit harder to explain given the precursor for this ending is not entering Garyland, and the strongest case could be made by pointing to the fact that, allegedly, John was the one to eviscerate the cultists in the bloodied room... but still. A lot of things happen in Chapter 3 outside of Gary's labyrinth that would weigh heavily on John's consciousness. One of the other most notable circumstances being if he cannot save Lisa from Alu/the cult, and she dies because he (while possessed or in a state of psychosis) ultimately kills her.

That, and there is the idea that John is outright killing the cultists/people he flashes the crucifix to.

Now, before I explain part of that, I just want to say that all cops are shit at their jobs. They protect nobody and often target folk just because they can, and use "self defense" as a way to get out of the repercussions. However, it is interesting that when John raises the crucifix (when exiting the front door of the daycare, opposed to the back entrance), the cops state that he has a gun. Of course, this could be that classic "shoot anything that moves and make a move" mentality, or it could be a genuine observation (after all, they are fictional so there is a chance they have some intelligence).

My disdain for the law aside, the very act of exorcism is a banishment. A damntation of demonic entities back to Hell, where they either are imprisoned (returning to their natural states and unable to re-enter the surface) or executed (if the demon is too weak to presumably recuperate from Christ's intervention/flee to Hell). So, in the assumption that the UNSPEAKABLE really is grasping every cultist's soul... Yeah. They're gone. John has effectively killed the person and, maybe, left behind a husk. A shell of who they were.

And that acts as a segue into the second question:

Why in the hell (pun intended) would Gary want to use a priest as a vessel?

The short answer is that John is, genuinely, the perfect vessel. My understanding of the process is that the victim must be on the younger side, physically healthy, and (most importantly) non-consenting to the process (able to be manipulated and coerced into "consenting").

John is in his early 30s, is pretty healthy minus the achey knee and dormant asthma, and very much non-consenting, seeing as he goes through so much to attempt to stop the UNSPEAKABLE's commanding demon, Gary/Astaroth. Plus him being in active bouts of psychosis makes it so much easier for someone like Gary to affirm the delusions and essentially become the little devil on John's shoulder.

EDIT: I've posted some audio files regarding this! Check it out here [ LINK ]

But aside from that, it comes down to power. Gary wants to demonic rebellion to have influence. To be something that compels people and leaves behind a great legacy.

What better way to do that than take a holy man (assuming John is/was ordained) and make him a tool for the devil?

In context of a cult structure, the move is one of the biggest chess plays Gary can make as a leader.

Cults, especially those with destructive and a religious structure, are hierarchial and authoritative. There is supposed to be no question to what the leader wills. What Gary says should go. That's why he ultimately ended up targeting Lisa. As a failed attempt by Tiffany to make Lisa a vessel (and therefore prove her own worthiness to Gary), she knows too much about the true intentions. She is a flight risk. She's been found to be communicating with John (an extension of the church). People like Lisa are dangerous to the cult's imbalance, as are the ties they have within the greater community.

Which is why, too, John becomes such a pertinent target for Gary (lest we forget one of the Chapter 1 endings has him and his cult confront John on an empty highway).

It all shows that, even if he were not a demon, that he is convincing. That he can wear down at someone with a (presumably) strong conviction and duty to Christ. People would be fools to question him! He must know what he's doing if he can "break" a priest.

TLDR: Gary's entire mentality as a cult leader (and demonic commander) trying to regain control after a critical incident ks

And this, ultimately, is what is referred to with the idea of Damnatio Memoriae! John is so overshadowed and overtaken (whether by the UNSPEAKABLE, the cult, or his own mind) that he's effectively erased from memory. Him, the twins, Michael, Amy, they all mean nothing in the grand scheme of what would come should the cult succeed in its plan. They were all mere cogs in the machine.

[all-thestories-aretrue]

This entire post is personal opinion, you don't have to agree, etc etc. Discussion of self harm, including cutting and eating disorders, and discussion content warnings and how they are used to follow, consider this your warning.*

Netflix could have done a better job with the content warnings for Heartstopper. Denoting every episode with a content warning for self-harm is not helpful.

Tagging every episode feels a bit like the boy who cried wolf except you don't know if it's a wolf or a bear or a snake he's actually crying about.

Not only are there different types of self-harm shown/discussed, they are also present to different extents and severities.

Once it becomes apparent that Charlie has disordered eating patterns and, is more than once, shown to be leaving entire meals on the table, it's easy to assume the cw for self-harm has been addressed or that there is no mystery behind it. The expectation is set that the cw refers to Charlie's eating disorder and what is discussed and shown about it.

So, in the last episode, when Charlie reveals he has cut himself in the past, viewers may be blindsided by the statement. The content warning has not changed but, ironically enough, the content and context has. There is no lead up to this reveal, no hints or foreshadowing that Charlie has struggled with cutting previously. The content warning is the only indication that something like this may be mentioned but with Charlie's eating disorder front and center for the middle part of the season, it's been established that's what the cw is for. Why would viewers assume there is going to be something else thrown at them in the last half of the last episode?

That instance alone is enough to show that self-harm is not a monolith, and it should not be treated as such. People's triggers to self-harm are not a monolith, and they should not be treated as such.

Self-harm is not one thing, one action you do to yourself. It varies wildly. It is context dependent. It cannot jusr be called just "self-harm" and the bases considered covered.

What about those who had no prior knowledge of Charlie's eating disorder and did not think eating disorders fell into the category of self-harm? What about those who did not know of Charlie's history with cutting? What about the people who were triggered because a content warning for self-harm is not descriptive enough for them to keep themselves safe?

The solution is to provide content warnings for eating disorders, for cutting, for other types of self-harm instead of self-harm as one entity.

I know this is one facet of a much larger problem, and I am sure that there are exceptions and flaws to this analysis and proposal I have not thought of. But I am tired of self-harm being treated as one thing when it's not and never has been. The term ignores the complexity and context in which those behaviors take place in, and it's not enough of a warning for those who need it.

This post is not to discount the fact that Charlie has an eating disorder or a history of cutting. In fact, I'm over the moon there's a main character of an incredibly popular YA series that has a history of cutting, and I deeply hope his story is treated with care and provides hope to teenagers who are struggling with the same issues. I have an entire other post I want to make about that representation.

*Tumblr blacklists posts that are tagged with self-harm or any variation of, so they will not be found in the tags below. My own content warning at the top will have to suffice until Tumblr no longer censors discussions around these topics as they are important, and the people having them deserve to be heard.

[jade-of-mourning]

guess whooooooo

so I don’t want to be agitating and I noticed you said you’ve been busy but I genuinely do not remember if I sent you an ask recently or if that was a dream?? so if I’ve been bugging you pls just ignore me I will not be offended 😭🙏🏼

the reason for my presence in your inbox today is because I was looking thru the mako tag and saw ur avatar mako snippet. I then began to experience Thoughts and decided you might enjoy if I shared them :33

what I’ve been thinking about is the possible dynamics of this au because. tragic backstory x avatar is something we didn’t quite get w korra because all her Avatar Trauma happened during the show. however,,, mako and bolin got that orphan swag

so for one I wanted to reference one of your older posts about mako and lin having a history across each other at an interrogation table. just imagine how she feels seeing the little brat (who she’s almost certain is zolt’s little prodigy) turn out to be the avatar who she now has to tolerate and work with to protect the city that never gave him shit.

and besides the early momboss and detectiveson feelings (linzin reconciliation?? kyalin reveal????) the other dynamic is just mako and republic city as a whole. this was actually kind of touched on in canon w how korra had to acclimate to the entirely different world of a revolutionizing industrial city, but instead it would be mako learning to cherish the streets that had chewed him up and spat him back out.

another reason this would be cool is bcuz it already happens in the show as well. despite mako’s character being completely abandoned after the love triangle, his becoming a cop kind of shows that he has grown to want to protect his city. being a police officer in the atla-verse means you have a real devotion to your city—under a boss like lin, you just get replaced realll quick if you don’t (eg, those two guys who pissed on mako when varrick framed him for domestic terrorism or whatever was going on there).

it also can’t be only for money, because if it was he would’ve gone back to probending; something he was just indifferent towards. anyway, what I’m trying to say is that somewhere offscreen he had that development in view as he grew to want to protect the city for more reason than that it would keep he and his brother safe. so essentially, in the avatar mako au, he goes through that development earlier, when he’s still a kid.

this would probably also affect his personality. if he was taken care of earlier on, he wouldn’t have stonewalled himself away out of distrust for the rest of the world. so basically he’s a snappy, sarcastic little bitch by canon because he never taught himself to bite his tongue or die—it also parallels him to korra (cough and katara cough) a bit more which I thought was nice.

I just totally lost my train of thought but uhhhhh,,, sorry for the long ask. hope you’re doing okay :)

much love

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HI SNAILON!! i'm sure you saw my very late response but yeah dw you did not hallucinate that ask kjsdffgkjfsdh

anyway!!! i'm enjoying your avatar mako thoughts so much omg. mako and bolin really do got that Orphan Swag:tm: and i do love a good trauma backstory avatar. (still no one could ever compare to korra but shh we all know she's the most superior avatar of all time in our hearts…)

woah i forgot to think about the potential of lin & mako's relationship in the context of the au as a greater entity. aughhhhafjkhafdhk she's probably be pissed as hell at the start; i feel like tiny avatar!mako is absolutely the stiff bitter kleptomaniac sort specifically designed to get on lin beifong's nerves like no one else and that would agiatate her SO MUCH. but i think that over time as she starts to see him for what he really is and sees a little more of the good in his heart, she'll… actually she'll still treat him pretty harshly because now she doesn't like that she sees herself in him, but she has a greater amount of empathy for him and in vulnerable moments, i think that she would actually turn out to be the adult figure that mako would be most willing to seek out, surprisingly.

also yes i'm really excited to explore how mako rekindles an actually kind relationship with this halfway awful city. i really want to steep it in culture and i think i'll project my experiences in taiwan onto it because it's such a place of all time. the idea of hole in the wall restaurants that could not possibly meeting the hygiene standards and the owners are tough and impersonal but also they're the most natural people to be around, and the food is the best you've ever tasted for the cheapest price possible as you hop from sagging overhang to sagging overhand, never sitting down for a full meal but something about the perpetual motion is so comforting. anyway. republic city taiwan allegory. just really want to write about that, roughly.

i agree about the point of cop!mako :P even though i have complicated feelings about his assumption of a role that had been one of the primary institutions that enforced the system of how he and bolin lived as kids, i also think that he views it as a twisted form of redemption for himself as a child that i frankly think he doesn't have to assume moral culpability for, but i also understand that it's the sort of tangible thing that i think a guy like him would need to ever feel worthy enough of living. i have a lot of thoughts about this that i will have to condense into actual words sometime later…

i'm a big fan of mako actually getting to express his salt. i think that canon mako (and bolin, to an extent) takes a great amount of effort to restrain the Absolute Heathen that he was raised as in order to fit in with this impossible to understand high class society. (it's actually a point i'm going to explore in the fic with this version!) but yeah i feel like there's a lot of carefully trained-out language and habits that must exist in both mako and bolin who are trying so hard to not be perceived as the children they were, because their public images are very dependent on the exterior that they put out to the world. they need to be passably proper to get a fanbase which might land them support from higher up people which might land them a sponsorship which might enable their team to actually rise above as underdog which might lead them to win the pot which might let them finally build a lives for themselves. anyway. honestly avatar!mako would absolutely be hypermonitored by tenzin about his vocabulary and habits (coughing at this excerpt i wrote some time back: "He forces his breath to settle in his chest and forces himself to be grateful that he doesn't have a cigarette that he can lose himself in; he doesn't need Tenzin catching one more of his bad habits to take away from him."). but i think that in the presence of korra who will piss him off SO MUCH he won't have the same qualms about trying to fit into high class society because he'll have settled into this actual protection and stability provided to him by adults for the past several years, and he'll allow himself more to slip back into cussing her out with the vehemence of a Trained Asshole. it'd be funny trust.

i dont think i enunciated that very well but i have also had many thoughts on language and habits that mako and bolin forced themselves to eject for the sake of their precarious position in society. i think that it's also an ingrained part of them that when they're older along in life and have more stability, i like to imagine that they might end up casually incorportating back because their lives don't depend on their manners LOL. older mako would be only half the foul-mouth that his younger self was but asami would still be extremely mortified tbh. and bolin would just be COMEDY ohh

[bedlamsbard]

I hope you're well!

I'm a bit fuzzy on the Death Watch. Bo-Katan joined them then left them. Would you say that they had an important role in Rebels- or post-Rebels era politics? I'm curious on your thoughts on them from your bedlam watches star wars tag 😄

My read on Death Watch is that Death Watch ceased to be an entity when Darth Maul took over Mandalore in TCW S5 and reformed the majority of what had previously been Death Watch into his own followers, the leaders of which were personally loyal to him. (See him being broken out of prison in Son of Dathomir and later his actions in TCW S7; also the number of Mandalorians -- Mauldalorians, even! -- who have stylized Zabrak horns on their helmets, something which does not appear previously.) By this point Maul's Mandalorians had become legitimized as representatives of the "legal" government and were completely detached from their previous role as Death Watch. Bo-Katan's followers who broke off from Death Watch with her do not seem to have ever used the Death Watch name and functioned as an entirely separate entity with entirely different goals than Pre Vizsla's Mark 1 Death Watch. By the end of TCW, they are now functioning as representatives of the legitimate government. Given the overtones of the Death Watch name and its previous incarnation as a violent terrorist organization, it is not in Bo-Katan's interest (and she's smart enough to realize this) to revive the name. There may well be a few Death Watch holdouts who did not side with Maul or Bo-Katan in the Clone Wars and post-Clone Wars era who are still using the name and consider themselves members of Pre Vizsla's Death Watch, but they are not a significant political factor in Mandalorian politics.

In our real world history, there are terrorist groups who have essentially gone legit and kept the name once they became legitimate political parties in themselves -- I can't think of any off the top of my head because this isn't an area I'm very familiar with -- but given the way Mandalore's politics shake out in TCW and later on, I don't see this happening with Death Watch. I just think that as of Maul's takeover in TCW S5, Death Watch ceased to exist in any meaningful form and likely ceased to exist entirely. They're not a factor in the Rebellion era at all.

I do see the Children of the Watch and Death Watch as two entirely separate and unrelated groups that just happen to share a similar name -- go down the Wiki list of designated terrorist groups and there are a lot with very similar names that have nothing to do with each other. ("Watch" may have a specific meaning in Mandalorian culture, or it may be the equivalent of "army," "force," or "front," all of which feature heavily in the names of many real world terrorist groups, and which the Lucasfilm PTB wanted to avoid for just that reason.)

[megamindsupremacy]

preface: so I started following bc of all the excellent dc posts, then also saw you have a dcxpjo crossover tag and was excited about that. Since then I watched dp because of the avalanche of new posts on my dash I needed to understand (the fandom seems way better than the show)

my question is: has anyone ever done something with danny phantom characters and magnus chase? Dead immortal teenagers with superpowers being the common factor here

Okay, so I went and checked ao3 and there appears to be three DPxMagnus Chase fics, two in English and both of the "throw twenty fandoms into one fic" variety. I haven't actually seen any DP/Riordianverse fics, aus, headcanons at all, which surprises me now that I think about it because PJO is a fairly large fandom and it gets crossed over pretty often.

I think a crossover with Danny Phantom and Magnus Chase would be wild, honestly. Magnus learning that ghosts are real and being like "yeah, fuck it, sure, why not, i guess ghosts are real, it's not like my afterlife isn't batshit insane enough already". Danny finding a hotel full of quasi-immortal kindaVikings that all kill each other on a regular basis and being vaguely concerned for all the inhabitants before remembering its Not His Problem and doing a 180 into having the time of his life starting shit. Danny haunting the halls of Hotel Valhalla while housekeeping tries to vacuum him off the ceiling and the entire time Magnus is just like "I don't know this guy, I have never met this dude before in my afterlife, this is definitely not my fault."

Also, (I Will put the ghost king au in all of my headcanons) Magnus being confused about the Realm Full of Ghosts Danny is in charge of, which includes gods (ghost-gods? ghosts of gods? gods of ghosts? ??) and trying to figure out how the ancient pantheons fit into it. Which is my excuse to share this snippet I wrote forever ago and never had a chance to use anywhere. It was literally just me trying to figure out how other afterlives fit into a universe where the ghost zone exists

“Hades?” Danny turned to [idk some stand in dude]. “Which Hades are we dealing with, here?”

“Neo-pagan, my lord.”

“Thanks.” Danny turned back to [original asker of question]. “Yeah, I’d rather just let Hades do his thing. Neo-Pagan Hades is pretty chill, but I don’t want to upset him over something like this.”

“What do you mean, ‘Neo-Pagan’ Hades?” [og asker of question]

“There are all sorts of gods,” Danny explained, eyes giving off the green glow that sometimes came when he was explaining something. Sam called them his ‘professor eyes’. “As king of the dead, I rule over all death gods, from all pantheons. Gods, unlike other entities, are sustained through belief- that’s what makes some gods splinter off from each other and create new ones. Beliefs change over time though, and sometimes the same god is created, but a little different. There are a few incarnations of the really old gods running around, those guys are a pain to deal with. Their neo-pagan versions tend to be more reliable, chill.”

“And sexy,” [stand in dude] piped up.

Danny sighed. “And sexy.”

also headcanon that the various afterlives are all alternate dimensions within the ghost zone formed and sustained from the belief of the occupants

edit: i had more thoughts