#who never did exist but was a very nice imaginary friend to have for ~20 years

[paralianprince]

How did you feel when Sunk Head was blown up?

I was livid is what! It was totally unwarranted-- and cowardly at that!

Like, was what we were doin' really so bad-- I'd not even been declared yet, mind, we were just livin' there-- that you had to go and!!

Sunk Head never did nothin' to nobody but because they were kickin' off about me and what I was doin' they went and took it out on him instead-- it was disrespectful is what it was! All the hard work done there and they repay that by blowin' up the damn place??

Used to be visible on any clear day from where I was sat-- I'd even tried swimmin' out that way on a few occasions, never did make it, but that's another story for another time-- so, naturally we watched it happen, as they'd intended us to do, I'm sure. Apparently people felt the shockwave all the way back at shore, and trust me that I believe it, considerin' the sudden heat wave at my house that day. And we'd had debris goin' past for, like, days afterward!

Then! Because naturally and of course!! They swing by and circle around like buzzards to let us know, like, woooh, you're next! Watch out! Develop some wicked paranoia while you're at it!

[Achievement Unlocked! You got Peter PACING LIKE AN ANGRY CIRCUS LION!!]

And-- it was meant to intimidate us I'm sure but obviously it didn't! Like, yeah, it's easy enough, to rig the place up when there's no one there tryin' to stop you, isn't it, now come and try it with me then, you cowards, if it's so important to you then get over here and bloody stop me!

Which they didn't, of course. Prime Minister Wilson, God bless him, had been good enough to not approve the plan to go and shell us with helicopters and such-- partially because he knew full well we'd fight back, and he'd not want anybody harmed, them or us-- so that's... somethin' I guess. Quite stupid of them all to expect me to fold as soon as someone tries to frighten me. I was built much better than that, thank you very much-- and, whose fault was that again?

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

“Elliot Page doesn’t remember exactly how long he had been asking.

But he does remember the acute feeling of triumph when, around age 9, he was finally allowed to cut his hair short. “I felt like a boy,” Page says. “I wanted to be a boy. I would ask my mom if I could be someday.” Growing up in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Page visualized himself as a boy in imaginary games, freed from the discomfort of how other people saw him: as a girl. After the haircut, strangers finally started perceiving him the way he saw himself, and it felt both right and exciting.

The joy was short-lived. Months later, Page got his first break, landing a part as a daughter in a Canadian mining family in the TV movie Pit Pony. He wore a wig for the film, and when Pit Pony became a TV show, he grew his hair out again. “I became a professional actor at the age of 10,” Page says. And pursuing that passion came with a difficult compromise. “Of course I had to look a certain way.”

We are speaking in late February. It is the first interview Page, 34, has given since disclosing in December that he is transgender, in a heartfelt letter posted to Instagram, and he is crying before I have even uttered a question. “Sorry, I’m going to be emotional, but that’s cool, right?” he says, smiling through his tears.

It’s hard for him to talk about the days that led up to that disclosure. When I ask how he was feeling, he looks away, his neck exposed by a new short haircut. After a pause, he presses his hand to his heart and closes his eyes. “This feeling of true excitement and deep gratitude to have made it to this point in my life,” he says, “mixed with a lot of fear and anxiety.”

It’s not hard to understand why a trans person would be dealing with conflicting feelings in this moment. Increased social acceptance has led to more young people describing themselves as trans—1.8% of Gen Z compared with 0.2% of boomers, according to a recent Gallup poll—yet this has fueled conservatives who are stoking fears about a “transgender craze.” President Joe Biden has restored the right of transgender military members to serve openly, and in Hollywood, trans people have never had more meaningful time onscreen. Meanwhile, J.K. Rowling is leveraging her cultural capital to oppose transgender equality in the name of feminism, and lawmakers are arguing in the halls of Congress over the validity of gender identities. “Sex has become a political football in the culture wars,” says Chase Strangio, deputy director for transgender justice at the ACLU.

(Full article with photos continued under the “read more”)

And so Page—who charmed America as a precocious pregnant teenager in Juno, constructed dreamscapes in Inception and now stars in Netflix’s hit superhero show The Umbrella Academy, the third season of which he’s filming in Toronto—expected that his news would be met with both applause and vitriol. “What I was anticipating was a lot of support and love and a massive amount of hatred and transphobia,” says Page. “That’s essentially what happened.” What he did not anticipate was just how big this story would be. Page’s announcement, which made him one of the most famous out trans people in the world, started trending on Twitter in more than 20 countries. He gained more than 400,000 new followers on Instagram on that day alone. Thousands of articles were published. Likes and shares reached the millions. Right-wing podcasters readied their rhetoric about “women in men’s locker rooms.” Casting directors reached out to Page’s manager saying it would be an honor to cast Page in their next big movie.

So, it was a lot. Over the course of two conversations, Page will say that understanding himself in all the specifics remains a work in progress. Fathoming one’s gender, an identity innate and performed, personal and social, fixed and evolving, is complicated enough without being under a spotlight that never seems to turn off. But having arrived at a critical juncture, Page feels a deep sense of responsibility to share his truth. “Extremely influential people are spreading these myths and damaging rhetoric—every day you’re seeing our existence debated,” Page says. “Transgender people are so very real.”

That role in Pit Pony led to other productions and eventually, when Page was 16, to a film called Mouth to Mouth. Playing a young anarchist, Page had a chance to cut his hair again. This time, he shaved it off completely. The kids at his high school teased him, but in photos he has posted from that time on social media he looks at ease. Page’s head was still shaved when he mailed in an audition tape for the 2005 thriller Hard Candy. The people in charge of casting asked him to audition again in a wig. Soon, the hair was back.

Page’s tour de force performance in Hard Candy led, two years later, to Juno, a low-budget indie film that brought Page Oscar, BAFTA and Golden Globe nominations and sudden megafame. The actor, then 21, struggled with the stresses of that ascension. The endless primping, red carpets and magazine spreads were all agonizing reminders of the disconnect between how the world saw Page and who he knew himself to be. “I just never recognized myself,” Page says. “For a long time I could not even look at a photo of myself.” It was difficult to watch the movies too, especially ones in which he played more feminine roles.

Page loved making movies, but he also felt alienated by Hollywood and its standards. Alia Shawkat, a close friend and co-star in 2009’s Whip It,describes all the attention from Juno as scarring. “He had a really hard time with the press and expectations,” Shawkat says. “‘Put this on! And look this way! And this is sexy!’”

By the time he appeared in blockbusters like X-Men: The Last Stand and Inception, Page was suffering from depression, anxiety and panic attacks. He didn’t know, he says, “how to explain to people that even though [I was] an actor, just putting on a T-shirt cut for a woman would make me so unwell.” Shawkat recalls Page’s struggles with clothes. “I’d be like, ‘Hey, look at all these nice outfits you’re getting,’ and he would say, ‘It’s not me. It feels like a costume,’” she says. Page tried to convince himself that he was fine, that someone who was fortunate enough to have made it shouldn’t have complaints. But he felt exhausted by the work required to “just exist,” and thought more than once about quitting acting.

In 2014, Page came out as gay, despite feeling for years that “being out was impossible” given his career. (Gender identity and sexual orientation are, of course, distinct, but one queer identity can coexist with another.) In an emotional speech at a Human Rights Campaign conference, Page talked about being part of an industry “that places crushing standards” on actors and viewers alike. “There are pervasive stereotypes about masculinity and femininity that define how we’re all supposed to act, dress and speak,” Page went on. “And they serve no one.”

The actor started wearing suits on the red carpet. He found love, marrying choreographer Emma Portner in 2018. He asserted more agency in his career, producing his own films with LGBTQ leads like Freeheld and My Days of Mercy. And he made a masculine wardrobe a condition of taking roles. Yet the daily discord was becoming unbearable. “The difference in how I felt before coming out as gay to after was massive,” says Page. “But did the discomfort in my body ever go away? No, no, no, no.”

In part, it was the isolation forced by the pandemic that brought to a head Page’s wrestling with gender. (Page and Portner separated last summer, and the two divorced in early 2021. “We’ve remained close friends,” Page says.) “I had a lot of time on my own to really focus on things that I think, in so many ways, unconsciously, I was avoiding,” he says. He was inspired by trailblazing trans icons like Janet Mock and Laverne Cox, who found success in Hollywood while living authentically. Trans writers helped him understand his feelings; Page saw himself reflected in P. Carl’s memoir Becoming a Man. Eventually “shame and discomfort” gave way to revelation. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” Page says, “and letting myself fully become who I am.”

This led to a series of decisions. One was asking the world to call him by a different name, Elliot, which he says he’s always liked. Page has a tattoo that says E.P. PHONE HOME, a reference to a movie about a young boy with that name. “I loved E.T. when I was a kid and always wanted to look like the boys in the movies, right?” he says. The other decision was to use different pronouns—for the record, both he/him and they/them are fine. (When I ask if he has a preference on pronouns for the purposes of this story, Page says, “He/him is great.”)

A day before we first speak, Page will talk to his mom about this interview and she will tell him, “I’m just so proud of my son.” He grows emotional relating this and tries to explain that his mom, the daughter of a minister, who was born in the 1950s, was always trying to do what she thought was best for her child, even if that meant encouraging young Page to act like a girl. “She wants me to be who I am and supports me fully,” Page says. “It is a testament to how people really change.”

Another decision was to get top surgery. Page volunteers this information early in our conversation; at the time he posted his disclosure on Instagram, he was recovering in Toronto. Like many trans people, Page emphasizes being trans isn’t all about surgery. For some people, it’s unnecessary. For others, it’s unaffordable. For the wider world, the media’s focus on it has sensationalized transgender bodies, inviting invasive and inappropriate questions. But Page describes surgery as something that, for him, has made it possible to finally recognize himself when he looks in the mirror, providing catharsis he’s been waiting for since the “total hell” of puberty. “It has completely transformed my life,” he says. So much of his energy was spent on being uncomfortable in his body, he says. Now he has that energy back.

For the transgender community at large, visibility does not automatically lead to acceptance. Around the globe, transgender people deal disproportionately with violence and discrimination. Anti-trans hate crimes are on the rise in the U.K. along with increasingly transphobic rhetoric in newspapers and tabloids. In the U.S., in addition to the perennial challenges trans people face with issues like poverty and homelessness, a flurry of bills in state legislatures would make it a crime to provide transition-related medical care to trans youth. And crass old jokes are still in circulation. When Biden lifted the ban on open service for transgender troops, Saturday Night Live’s Michael Che did a bit on Weekend Update about the policy being called “don’t ask, don’t tuck.”

Page says coming out as trans was “selfish” on one level: “It’s for me. I want to live and be who I am.” But he also felt a moral imperative to do so, given the times. Human identity is complicated and mysterious, but politics insists on fitting everything into boxes. In today’s culture wars, simplistic beliefs about gender—e.g., chromosomes = destiny—are so widespread and so deep-seated that many people who hold those beliefs don’t feel compelled to consider whether they might be incomplete or prejudiced. On Feb. 24, after a passionate debate on legislation that would ban discrimination against LGBTQ people, Representative Marie Newman, an Illinois Democrat, proudly displayed the pride flag in support of her daughter, who is trans. Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, a Georgia Republican, responded by hanging a poster outside her office that read: There are TWO genders: MALE & FEMALE.

The next day Dr. Rachel Levine, who stands to become the first openly transgender federal official confirmed by the Senate, endured a tirade from Senator Rand Paul about “genital mutilation” during her confirmation hearing. My second conversation with Page happens shortly after this. He brings it up almost immediately, and seems both heartbroken and determined. He wants to emphasize that top surgery, for him, was “not only life-changing but lifesaving.” He implores people to educate themselves about trans lives, to learn how crucial medical care can be, to understand that lack of access to it is one of the many reasons that an estimated 41% of transgender people have attempted suicide, according to one survey.

Page has been in the political trenches for a while, having leaned into progressive activism after coming out as queer in 2014. For two seasons, he and best friend Ian Daniel filmed Gaycation, a Viceland series that explored LGBTQ culture around the world and, at one point, showed Page grilling Senator Ted Cruz at the Iowa State Fair about discrimination against queer people. In 2019, Page made a documentary called There’s Something in the Water, which explores environmental hardships experienced by communities of color in Nova Scotia, with $350,000 of his own money. That activism extends to his own industry: in 2017, he published a Facebook post that, among other things, accused director Brett Ratner of forcibly outing him as gay on the set of an X-Men movie. (A representative for Ratner did not respond to a request for comment.)

As a trans person who is white, wealthy and famous, Page has a unique kind of privilege, and with it an opportunity to advocate for those with less. According to the U.S. Trans Survey, a large-scale report from 2015, transgender people of color are more likely to experience unemployment, harassment by police and refusals of medical care. Nearly half of all Black respondents reported being denied equal treatment, verbally harassed and/or physically attacked in the past year. Trans people as a group fare much worse on such stats than the general population. “My privilege has allowed me to have resources to get through and to be where I am today,” Page says, “and of course I want to use that privilege and platform to help in the ways I can.”

Since his disclosure, Page has been mostly quiet on social media. One exception has been to tweet on behalf of the ACLU, which is in the midst of fighting anti-trans bills and laws around the country, including those that ban transgender girls and women from participating in sports. Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves says he will sign such a bill in the name of “protect[ing] young girls.” Page played competitive soccer and vividly recalls the agony of being told he would have to play on the girls’ team once he aged out of mixed-gender squads. After an appeal, Page was allowed to play with the boys for an additional year. Today, several bills list genitalia as a requirement for deciding who plays on which team. “I would have been in that position as a kid,” Page says. “It’s horrific.”

All this advocacy is unlikely to make life easier. “You can’t enter into certain spaces as a public trans person,” says the ACLU’s Strangio, “without being prepared to spend some percentage of your life being threatened and harassed.” Yet, while he seems overwhelmed at times, Page is also eager. Many of the political attacks on trans people—whether it is a mandate that bathroom use be determined by birth sex, a blanket ban on medical interventions for trans kids or the suggestion that trans men are simply wayward women beguiled by male privilege—carry the same subtext: that trans people are mistaken about who they are. “We know who we are,” Page says. “People cling to these firm ideas [about gender] because it makes people feel safe. But if we could just celebrate all the wonderful complexities of people, the world would be such a better place.”

Even if Page weren’t vocal, his public presence would communicate something powerful. That is in part because of what Paisley Currah, a professor of political science at Brooklyn College, calls “visibility gaps.” Historically, trans women have been more visible, in culture and in Hollywood, than trans men. There are many explanations: Our culture is obsessed with femininity. Men’s bodies are less policed and scrutinized. Patriarchal people tend to get more emotional about who is considered to be in the same category as their daughters. “And a lot of trans men don’t stand out as trans,” says Currah, who is a trans man himself. “I think we’ve taken up less of the public’s attention because masculinity is sort of the norm.”

During our interviews, Page will repeatedly refer to himself as a “transgender guy.” He also calls himself nonbinary and queer, but for him, transmasculinity is at the center of the conversation right now. “It’s a complicated journey,” he says, “and an ongoing process.”

While the visibility gap means that trans men have been spared some of the hate endured by trans women, it has also meant that people like Page have had fewer models. “There were no examples,” Page says of growing up in Halifax in the 1990s. There are many queer people who have felt “that how they feel deep inside isn’t a real thing because they never saw it reflected back to them,” says Tiq Milan, an activist, author and transgender man. Page offers a reflection: “They can see that and say, ‘You know what, that’s who I am too,’” Milan says. When there aren’t examples, he says, “people make monsters of us.”

For decades, that was something Hollywood did. As detailed in the 2020 Netflix documentary Disclosure, transgender people have been portrayed onscreen as villainous and deceitful, tragic subplots or the butt of jokes. In a sign of just how far the industry has come—spurred on by productions like Pose and trailblazers like Mock—Netflix offered to change the credits on The Umbrella Academy the same day that its star posted his statement on social media. Now when an episode ends, the first words viewers see are “Elliot Page.”

Today, there are many out trans and nonbinary actors, directors and producers. Storylines involving trans people are more common, more respectful. Sometimes that aspect of identity is even incidental, rather than the crux of a morality tale. And yet Hollywood can still seem a frightening place for LGBTQ people to come out. “It’s an industry that says, ‘Don’t do that,’” says director Silas Howard, who got his break on Amazon’s show Transparent, which made efforts to hire transgender crew members. “I wouldn’t have been hired if they didn’t have a trans initiative,” Howard says. “I’m always aware of that.”

So what will it mean for Page’s career? While Page has appeared in many projects, he also faced challenges landing female leads because he didn’t fit Hollywood’s narrow mold. Since Page’s Instagram post, his team is seeing more activity than they have in years. Many of the offers coming in—to direct, to produce, to act—are trans-related, but there are also some “dude roles.”

Downtime in quarantine helped Page accept his gender identity. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” he says.

Page was attracted to the role of Vanya in The Umbrella Academy because—in the first season, released in 2019—Vanya is crushed by self-loathing, believing herself to be the only ordinary sibling in an extraordinary family. The character can barely summon the courage to move through the world. “I related to how much Vanya was closed off,” Page says. Now on set filming the third season, co-workers have seen a change in the actor. “It seems like there’s a tremendous weight off his shoulders, a feeling of comfort,” says showrunner Steve Blackman. “There’s a lightness, a lot more smiling.” For Page, returning to set has been validating, if awkward at times. Yes, people accidentally use the wrong pronouns—“It’s going to be an adjustment,” Page says—but co-workers also see and acknowledge him.

The debate over whether cisgender people, who have repeatedly collected awards for playing trans characters, should continue to do so has largely been settled. However, trans actors have rarely been considered for cisgender parts. Whatever challenges might lie ahead, Page seems exuberant about playing a new spectrum of roles. “I’m really excited to act, now that I’m fully who I am, in this body,” Page says. “No matter the challenges and difficult moments of this, nothing amounts to getting to feel how I feel now.”

This includes having short hair again. During our interview, Page keeps rearranging strands on his forehead. It took a long time for him to return to the barber’s chair and ask to cut it short, but he got there. And how did that haircut feel?

Page tears up again, then smiles. “I just could not have enjoyed it more,” he says.”

[cno-inbminor]

iterum vivere (childe/tartaglia)

a/n: wow, it’s been fucking forever. first genshin fic featuring childe/tartaglia!!! a very huge thank you to @suspensin​ for reading this over and being my rock and support, and i love her so fucking much. I couldn’t have finished this without her!

plot: reincarnation and modern/uni!au ft. afab reader!traveler with she/they pronouns x childe/tartaglia 

-- in which meeting childe is a bit of a dangerous game of push and pull

wc: 12.1k; angst + fluff

warnings:  DOES CONTAIN IN-GAME SPOILERS (1.5? 1.6? + story quest and idek) and NSFW MENTIONS (mdni to be safe). there’s no explicit smut but thoughts do run a bit wild here and there

EDIT: Altered ChiLumi version now posted on AO3 here!

“Haven’t we met before?”

The shine in your eyes does nothing to hide your curiosity, head even tilting a little in observation. He watches them scan his face for any recognizable features, but attempts to focus on the strange, taut string of déjà vu that pulls him toward you. In a moment of absentmindedness, he had heard a faint voice call out his name from your direction. Confusion overtook him as you weren’t looking at him, but something inside his brain said that it had to be from you. And so his feet redirected his path towards your figure in the student union building, as if on a mission.

“A fucking whale, Childe?”

Oh.

“I don’t think so…?” You trail off, curiosity now replaced by perplexed feelings. “Do we have a class together?”

I think I would’ve noticed you by now if you were.

“Ah, what’s your major?” Childe asks quickly to avoid listening to the little voice in his head.

“History and anthropology, you?”

“Economics, but I’ve taken a history course for core credits. Maybe it was then?”

“With Dr. Zhong?”

“Yes!” He snaps his fingers. Part of his brain decides to usefully function and scan his memories to see if he remembers your face or head of hair in the lecture hall then. “Last year? Tuesdays and Thursdays from 10 to 11:20?”

“Actually, yeah,” you affirm in surprise. You think you would remember the relatively attractive ginger in your class, but honestly, it had all been such a blur and you were often pretty sleepy during class. Dr. Zhong didn’t quite appreciate it, but you made up for it with your exam and essay grades, as well as paying better attention in some of his other courses.

“Did you need me for anything?”

“I’d like for you to come visit and meet my family.”

He’s really not appreciating this extra voice speaking for him.

“Well…uh…” Childe stammers and looks away sheepishly, hand rubbing the back of his neck. He honestly had no reason for approaching you, and now, he just looks like a desperate idiot. Think quick, he tells himself, floundering for some shitty excuse.

“I wanted to, uh, take another history course as an elective and um, wanted to know if you had any recommendations?”

“Oh,” you blink. That’s a first. When he meets your gaze, the swirling shades of sapphire strike something deep within you. Flashes of events you can’t make out go by in the blink of an eye, but then you realize you’ve been staring for too long. Blood rushes to your cheeks because you don’t exactly want this guy to get the wrong idea from you, because how are you supposed to explain, “I’m sorry, but I think we have met before, but just a really, really long time ago, and we might’ve been more than just acquaintances because that’s what it feels like?”

“I think you’d like Teyvat Mythology,” your voice wavers on the verge of cracking. “Dr. Zhong might have a TA this time around, but Xiao’s a great teacher. Doesn’t have long, rambling anecdotes, but explains things well and gets straight to the point.”

“C-cool, I’ll look into it,” Childe replies and smiles brightly. “I’ll head out then,” jabbing a thumb over his shoulder, where he just realized he left a grouchy Scaramouche waiting by a vending machine, newly purchased Starbucks Tripleshot drink in hand. “Nice seeing you, (y/n).”

He scurries off before you both realize that you never told him your name.

“Who’s that?” Scaramouche asks, jutting his chin in your vague direction.

“Someone from my Intro to Liyuean History course last year,” Childe waves off. “Come on, let’s go before the line at the pasta bar gets too long.”

-

The next time you see Childe is by accident, traversing across an open field of grass that many students like to sit out on to relax with friends, sunbathe, hold events, or play casual team sports if room permits.

You had your earbuds in and were scrolling through social media when laughter rang above all other sound, causing your head to snap up and swivel around to find the source. And while it might’ve been strange to an outsider, your steps immediately slowed as you watched the man of your tiring, vivid dreams sprint in your direction, eyes pinned on a frisbee heading towards him.

He’s wearing a grey sports tank and basketball shorts, headband holding back his bangs as he makes a slight jump in the air to catch the plastic disc between his palms. His feet plant into the grass as he looks for someone to pass it to, and you watch (with embarrassment) the muscles in his throwing arm relax and tighten with practice, frisbee steadily soaring through the air in a beautiful arc towards a teammate. He then lightly jogs to get closer to his group, but then his back stiffens.

Before your instincts kick in for you to turn and bail, he looks over his shoulder and stares straight at your now stunned self.

The sole ruby earring that glints in the sunlight catches your attention, and you recall your dreams of terrifyingly dark, violet electric power, blades of water rushing toward you, and then the stomach-churning sensation of falling from great heights pours concrete into your veins—

Childe looks a little amused for having your sole focus, hand lifting up for a quick wave. And as you numbly return the greeting, your heart beats out, “Run from him.”

And so with the flight response pulsing and firing from your synapses, you abruptly speed walk away, almost breaking out into a sprint towards your dorm. You ignore his pointed, confused look, and pretend you don’t feel the two holes of imaginary fire searing into your back. It isn’t until you’re laying back in bed that you release a huge sigh of relief and pray to a deity you don’t believe in that those eyes of mirth will not haunt you tonight.

But of course, with a deity that doesn’t exist, the prayers go unanswered.

-

“Do you believe in any of the mythology you teach?” You ask Xiao about a few days later when you stop by his cubicle. Luckily, no one else is around for this conversation, and Xiao has always been kind enough to humor your thoughts. Granted, he might feel obligated because you had asked Dr. Zhong to be your advisor for your undergraduate Honors thesis, and Xiao was directed to be your receiver of some general questions and source of information if he wasn’t around.

A quick scan of your complexion tells Xiao everything he needs to know. Your eyes are overtaken with rumination and exhaustion, haziness clouding them as you seem to ponder over your own question. It’s not often that you ask him anything not related to your thesis or coursework.

“Perhaps there’s some sense and truth to the tales passed down,” he softly muses. “What makes you ask?”

You lift yourself to sit on the clean area next to his computer, legs slowly swaying back and forth. “It might sound crazy but...I’ve been having dreams lately. They feel too real, too natural to be anything that my mind would make up. I’ve never had the most creative imagination by any means, which is why there’s some comfort to me being a history major, but I can’t shake these.”

“So why ask me about the mythology?”

“...the Archons are there. I even dreamt that I met the Geo and Anemo Archons. And they controlled various elements, just like we were taught.”

You don’t notice that Xiao has ceased his rapid typing, fingers hovering over the keyboard before one hand removes his glasses from his face. He uses the other to rub his eyes and softly pinch the bridge of his nose before sliding the frames back on. Dark, golden amber eyes survey you as you grapple with the unfathomable possibilities of your nightly visions, at least until you shake your head in disbelief at yourself and lightly scoff.

“Who am I kidding?” You ask no one in particular. “Maybe I’ve been doing too much research and everything’s mixing together.”

“You’re ahead of schedule, if that provides any consolation.”

“Some.”

-

It takes Childe a grand total of one minutes and 53 seconds to sign up for Teyvat Mythology for the spring semester.

-

WInter in Liyue is only slightly miserable, being so close to the ocean. It’s chillier than usual on this dreary day, yet something compelled you to exit your dorm and shakily make your way to the campus coffee shop for a warm drink. Coffee, hot chocolate, you haven’t quite decided yet, but just as you let yourself bask in the warm building, familiar ginger hair and blue eyes wash away the comfort.

Or do they douse you in security?

They remind you of your recent dreams that now have shifted away from stress and violence to easygoing summer days by the oceanside, running barefoot in the sand while collecting beautifully patterned azure starconches. Sometimes, you thrust a hand towards an oversized four-leaf clover on a wooden stake with the power of wind and catch yourself in the air, soaring and looking around to find more of the little shells. Other nights, they consist of climbing steep cliffs, only to sit at the edge in the clouds with fatigue wracking through your system and marvel at the view before you.

Someone’s always with you though, ruby earring and maroon mask and cobalt blue gem hanging from the waist, sprinting with you, playfully tackling you down, pulling you up towards mountain peaks, laying their head on your shoulders, brushing their lips against your cheek--

You welcome the change of peace in those dreams, but only because they don’t leave you quite as tired the next day, as if you’d been avoiding an inescapable dark force.

Part of you wants the burning question of why this person, this man, in all his glory and brightness, affects you so fucking much when you barely even know the guy -- why looking at him sends your heart to lodge itself in your esophagus, why your lungs feel like they’re so close to being completely collapsed under the weight of his stare, why feeling like you’re trapped and  caught between wanting to run towards yet away from him.  It makes no sense, and you’re tired of trying to make sense of anything you don’t exactly want to remember from your dreams for some, once again, inexplicable reason.

But there’s no time to think as he quickly ambles towards you, your own feet shuffling forward to meet him in a warped reference of a distance that constitutes to “the middle” before you can stop yourself. Your shivering hasn’t quite stopped yet, and Childe seems to take notice of it.

“Pretty cold out there,”  he softly states. It’s cute, the way you’re curling in on yourself to retain some warmth.

“Y-yeah, not sure why I decided I really needed something warm to drink right now,” you reply and avoid his gaze. He watches you peer over his shoulder to squint at the menu display hanging from the ceiling, seemingly contemplating on what you should get.

“How about I get yours today? My treat for your class recommendation last time.” Anything to keep you here longer. Childe doesn’t realize how much he’s missed you, which confuses him, and chooses to ignore the fact that he’d been camping himself at the study tables in the building where the history department is located in hopes of even just catching a quick glimpse of you.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” you immediately attempt to subvert his generous offer, hands shooting out from your jacket pockets and waving in rejection. “It was nothing.”

“Please?” Childe puts on his best puppy eyes before reaching for one of your wrists, gently tugging you to the register. “Just this once?”

You want so badly to squash the tiny flare of disappointment that erupts in your chest from the newly acquired knowledge that this was just a one time thing. Do econ majors hate to feel in debt? That they must be even with everyone, or would rather have people indebted to them than the other way around?

There’s no time to think when Childe gives the cashier his order before turning to you, and without wanting to waste anyone’s time, you rattle off your usual beverage. He’s quick in fishing out his student ID to spend some of his campus currency, shooting you a boyish grin when you pout at your half-opened wallet.

“Go take that table over there,” he says, pointing to one in the corner by some windows. “I’m gonna tell my friends to go on without me.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude or pull you away from them,” you slightly panic. The sooner you can leave, the better. Right? “You don’t need to sit with me, I was just gonna head back to my dorm.”

“I insist. Go ahead, I’ll be right there.”

Why your brain takes his orders over your own is a mystery in and of itself, because before you know it, you’re plopped down in one of the lounge seats and staring off into space, mind reeling over the last two minutes. You pretend you can’t hear the way Childe’s friends nudge his arm playfully with their shoulders, wiggling their eyebrows suggestively as Childe tries to get them to stop being nonsensical.

“You’re gonna scare them off,” he hisses at them, hands pushing at their backs so they could finally leave him to his devices.

“Not before you do!” One of them laughs and Childe groans at their antics. “All right, all right, we’ll go. They’re cute though, might steal them if you don’t make a move.”

The darkening of the aura surrounding Childe is too quick for them to fully process, not before he dampens any of their fleeting hopes with a, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

But it disappears just as fast when his and your drinks are called out, and he gives them one last shove before retrieving your to-go cups. Childe directs all his focus towards the seat diagonally from yours as opposed to the one that’s straight across, and you’re sharply ripped away from whatever reverie you let yourself slip into.

“Thank you,” you murmur, hands cupping the drink and feeling the heat seep into your fingertips. “You really didn’t have to, it was nothing big.”

“Can you blame me for just trying to find an excuse to finally talk to you?” He asks without a skip and you can’t tell if the quickening of your heartbeat is from a looming sense of doom or excitement. Those eyes, the tiny swirls of the ocean, blue like those shells buried in the sand--

It takes three seconds too long for you to understand where he was going with in his words, and part of you feels unamused at his smooth talking. You’ve always guarded yourself against guys like Childe, devilishly handsome who know their way around language semantics, ready to pull you in and just as ready to push you away. That (possibly unfair) bias, coupled with everything else you’ve been feeling for him, sounded the alarms and set the walls up around your heart. Perhaps you need to stop wearing your heart on your sleeve, because Childe immediately retracts his forwardness.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I promise I’m not looking for anything in return and you don’t owe me anything, but I really did just...want to sit and talk and...get to know you?” Childe trails off a little towards the end. Your body loosens up and relaxes just a tiny bit, feeling bad for your snap judgment. Let the guy do something nice, don’t look into it too much, you tell yourself. It’s a coffee, not a five-course dinner.

You reach out a hand towards him, small smile across your lips, ready for his to join yours in a quick handshake. “I’m (y/n), senior history and anthropology double major. It’s nice to meet you.”

The pounding of your heart against your ribcage has nothing to do with the shimmering of his eyes, nothing to do with the fact that his hand fits with yours just right, and nothing to do with the fact that an eerily similar voice from your dreams whispers, “I love you.”

You learn a number of things about Tartaglia in the four hours, like his family members and their respective interests, which classes he did and didn’t enjoy taking, certain takes on Schnezhnayan politics, his own various hobbies, crazy accidents from the occasional college parties, and more. He’s a bit of an open book, probably telling you way more than any regular person would, and definitely more than anything you revealed during all this time. Everything you tell him seems surface level, nothing too deep. The walls are still there to protect you from the unexplainable, profound feelings his presence seems to elicit, and luckily, he doesn’t prod any further. Childe feels the resistance and respects it, which just adds more brownie points in your book, and you almost feel bad for having given so little in return.

“I wish we were taking Teyvat Myth together,” he sighs when walking you back to your dorm, hands stuffed in his pockets. His ruby earring catches the light from the sunset, the shade almost complimentary to the golden amber rays that streak across the sky. “Would’ve helped having a history major in there.”

“Is that all I am to you, an answer bank?” You jokingly ask, but he watches concerningly as you shoot your gaze to the ground, mindfully stepping over the cracks between concrete slabs.

“Of course not,” a gentle sincerity reaches you, giving you the confidence to make eye contact with him. “I’m sorry for making it sound like that, it wasn’t my intention. I really just meant it as a way of saying if the professor or TA ended up being a total bore, then well, having you would make it more fun.”

“I’m sure I’d bore you even more,” chuckling, speeding up to get away. You’re growing too comfortable in whatever atmosphere Childe has created, like an enclosed air bubble bobbing gently in the depths of the sea and letting the waves carry you both to whichever ends of the earth.

“Hey,” he interjects, hand reaching out to stop you with a soft yank of your wrist. There is no resisting force from you, feet stepping backward until he meets you eye to eye. It’s unfair in the way that he can render you motionless by standing just an inch from you, arms brushing with his head tilted closer to your own. “Seriously, I’m glad we did this today. Are you?”

No, because now I don’t know what to think, I don’t know who you are, I’m not any closer to figuring out why you terrify yet leave me so enamoured with you, I’m torn between punching and kissing you and--

“Yes,” you subconsciously answer, brain immediately short-circuiting to scold yourself. “I had fun.”

His grin, charming, devilish, is so so bright, bright enough to rival the Liyue sun that sits on the pier, on the edge of the ocean, bright enough to rival the love that your fraternal twin showers you with on a daily basis. You want time to stop right here because you’re almost sick of the voice settled deep within your heart that screams, “Don’t get comfortable, you must run from him!”

“Good. Let’s do this again?” And you nod, of course you do. Foolish you. “Don’t be a stranger!” He calls out as he turns on his heel and waves over his shoulder, hand raised in the air, and you’re suddenly transported to another scene, a less refined version of the Liyue Harbor, watching as the head of ginger hair with a red mask in a flashier attire of grey and maroon walks away from you and onto a roaring, magnificent ship; big, ivory sails only seen in books and museums. It’s the same gesture of “see you later”, and just before he turns, you blink, and you’re back to seeing your campus again.

But Childe does look back once, warm and content that you’re still standing there, watching over him, and he can’t help but think about when he can spend time with you again, because suddenly, it truly feels like there’s not enough of it anymore.

-

“Excuse me, what’s a Red Bull?”

The last thing, or person rather, you expect to see on the last day of finals for the fall semester, is a small boy who looks way too young to be here, tugging on the sleeve of your windbreaker. He’s at most eleven, ten maybe, but he has eerily similar characteristics, as well as an accent that doesn’t quite belong to most Liyue natives. Still gathering your bearings from your own perusing of the fridges that hold all the possible beverages a college student could consume, you kneel down until you’re at eye level with the child.

“Repeat that for me? Are you looking for a Red Bull, you say?”

“Yes!” He beams and holds out a student ID that most definitely doesn’t belong to him. “My brother asked me to grab him one because he was busy with something.”

Your eyes flit over to the top shelves where the aforementioned cans of caffeine are located, and definitely too high for someone of his height to reach. “I’ll grab one for you. Did he ask for a specific flavor?”

“Nope, he said regular. Thanks, you’re really nice! Do you know my brother?” He asks, waving the ID at you so you can get a better look at the name. That’s definitely a face you recognize, but the name leaves you confused.

“Yeah, um,” glance over again, “I know...Ajax…”

“He’s the best toy seller in the whole world!”

Somehow, it suits him much better than Childe or Tartaglia, and you’re not quite sure what toys have anything to do with the matter at hand. Speaking of hands, the little boy grabs yours in sheer delight. “Can you take me back to his room? I kinda forgot the directions he told me, and everything’s so big around here.”

“Sure, just let me buy something, too, and I’ll take you.”

“Okay!”

The cashier isn’t the least bit fazed by the little brunette at your side -- it’s always common for family members to come in around the end of semesters to pick up kids or visit, and being an open building with snacks and drinks and a stopping point of most tours, they’ve seen it all. You even let him pick out a bag of chips and a candy bar for himself for being so polite and not a complete menace, paying with your own campus currency.

Teucer, as you’ve learned in the last two minutes, likes to point out things and ask you questions. Luckily, you have answers to most of them and do your best to pad the time, enjoying the feeling of a tiny hand wrapped around three of your fingers. It’s sweet to any normal passerby, believing they’re witnessing an older sister doting on their little brother around the holidays, but to Childe, seeing the tender sweetness on your face as you nod along to whatever Teucer is rambling about to you, sets his heart aflame. He’s already constantly on the verge of wanting to hug and kiss you and never let go, but you haven’t made any indication that you could potentially like him back, and this is just torture.

“Look what they bought me!” Teucer shoves his rewards in Childe’s face as if he had extremely poor eyesight, and you can’t help but laugh a little as you set his Red Bull down on his desk, clutching your own preferred beverage while looking around his room. Finals must have gotten to him with the unusual lack of tidiness in the small space, some laundry strewn here and there, a couple boxes of eaten microwave dinners in the metal wire trash can, some textbooks left open and marked with more sticky notes than you’ve ever seen. You’d only been here once before to drop off some food that he desperately messaged you about, stuck doing a project that he just couldn’t step away from.

“Pretend you don’t see the mess,” Childe pleads, handing a kid tablet to his brother but holding on before Teucer can take it. “What do you say to our nice friend here for buying you these snacks?”

“Thank you!”

“It was nothing,” you shyly smile, ruffling his hair. “I enjoyed meeting you.”

“Wait, what’s your name again?”

“It’s (Y/n).”

“Okay, (y/n)! Wait…(y/n)..as in…”

Teucer trails off and gives a look to his brother, one that spells curiosity and trouble, before he grabs your hand and pulls you into a corner. Any movement Childe makes to leave his desk chair is immediately squashed by Teucer’s disapproval, and the older man is left to helplessly worry when you’re told to squat down so secrets can be whispered into your ear.

“He talks about you a lot whenever he calls home,” and you want to laugh at Tecuer’s attempt to sound as scandalous as possible. “All the time! I think he likes you, like, like like.”

Oh. Oh dear.

“What makes you say that?” You whisper back, indulging both yourself and him, yet also internally snickering at how troubled Childe looks.

“Sometimes, he video calls mama, but we’ll all sit around and talk, and whenever he’s talking about how he saw you or something, he just looks...happy. Really happy.”

The surprise on your face does nothing to settle Childe’s nerves and he’s about to start wringing his hands together. Whatever Teucer was telling you couldn’t be good, probably embarrassing, like the one time he unceremoniously fell on his ass while ice skating over a frozen lake, or when he tried fitting fifteen marshmallows in his mouth and nearly choked on them when their mother caught them in the act, or--

“I think he just thinks of me as a good friend,” you try to inform Teucer, not letting yourself get any semblance of hope. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

“If you say so,” Teucer pouts. But then he stops whispering and bounds over back to his brother, grabbing the tablet before plopping down on the half-made bed.

“Look, I was overconfident and thought I could execute a perfect single loop on the ice, but there was a rock and I lost balance and--”

“I wasn’t being told any stories about you falling on ice, but do tell me more,” you chuckle and take some joy in watching the blush spread across his cheeks. It’s easy to tell that he’s mentally berating himself for jumping to conclusions.

“Well, first off, thanks for buying him all that, and my drink, too,” he sighs. “I spoil him enough as it is.”

“I can see why it’s hard not to,” you smile knowingly. “So is it just him here? Where’s the rest of your family?”

“Funny story, he somehow managed to convince my parents to let him come here on his own as his first ever plane flight, so I had to pick him up yesterday from the airport. He’s flying back with me tomorrow.”

“And the RA?” You ask with an eyebrow raised.

“Ah...well...what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him? Speaking of, what was Teucer whispering to you about?”

There’s a pensiveness that overtakes you when you look at Teucer again, who’s happily playing some sort of game and completely oblivious to the rest of his surroundings. You won’t, can’t, take his words to heart, and will take them with a grain of salt at most.

“Nothing important. Although I did learn something new...Ajax?”

“Say my name -- fuck, say it, please--”

“I guess cat’s out of the bag,” he chuckles and looks away, absolutely unaware of the flare of heat that swirls in your stomach from the fleeting vision just now. “I came up with other nicknames as a kid to seem cooler, and they just stuck with me. Plus, the business world is full of people who just want something from you, or just a transactional relationship. I’d rather not give my real name to them, if you know what I mean.”

“That’s fair,” you nod and lean to sit on the edge of his desk. A thought pops into your head and you turn the words over in your head like a washing machine on the spin setting, teeth gnawing on the flesh of your bottom lip. If Teucer hadn’t been in the room, he would’ve been this close to kissing you.

“But if it’s worth anything,” your voice slowly, softly starts, cautious and wary of your thoughts. “I think...Ajax suits you best.”

Curse fate. Curse the legendary Archons. Curse karma and deities and spirits because all he wants to do right now is stand and tower over you, trap you between himself and his desk so you can’t escape, take those pretty lips between his until they’re bruised and swollen because of him, hear you call out his name in the throes of pleasure so he can finally replace his fantasies with tangible memories. The unnatural, magnetic pull that draws him to you is unbearable now -- he feels like he’ll lose the last tendrils of his sanity if he doesn’t do something.

You can’t stop him from slowly reaching out to grab one of your hands, lifting it towards him until he’s close enough for you to feel his breath ghost over your knuckles. It sends a shiver down your spine and blood is pounding in your ears because you can’t begin to fathom what he’s thinking about while doing this, even more so when his lips make contact with your skin and your breath hitches, stuck in your throat as he languidly peeks at you beneath his eyelashes with a heated gaze, then lowly confessing, “My name sounds best when you say it.”

Good heavens.

It’s difficult to swallow and keep your composure, especially when Teucer yells out in glee over, what you can assume, beating something in his game, and Childe drops your hand. But his dilated pupils don’t retract in the slightest, refusing to let you look away so that maybe, you can understand what he’s trying to convey to you. He’s taking the first step because he’s terrible and can’t contain his self-control anymore, pushing the ball into your court, ready for you to either play or exit into the sidelines.

When you do blink, there’s a vision of your naked body wrapped around another, limbs clinging desperately to a sturdy and panting frame. Lips, much like the ones that have seared themselves onto your knuckles, are at your neck and sucking, biting, before moving to your ear and laying filthy words into them that drive you closer to the edge. It all happens so fast that you feel you’ve just experienced whiplash, yet also feeling secondhand embarrassment at how lewd some of these thoughts have been.

You can’t stay here any longer.

“I-I have to go,” spills off your tongue before you can really think about it. The way the haze shatters in his eyes is heartbreaking in its own way, but there’s no time for you to explain. Your brain is in overdrive and eager to run, run, run. It detects danger on all fronts, but you muster out a, “H-have a good break, come find me next semester, mmk?”

And you’re out the door with inhuman speed. When the door clicks shut, only then does Teucer look up from his screen and frown at the lack of your presence. “Where’d they go?”

Chlide doesn’t seem to hear him, and Teucer has never seen his big brother look so sad and confused before.

-

He holds on to that last tendril of hope, because mark his words, he will find you come January.

-

After about a week at home, enjoying the festive time with his family and mildly unconcerned about next year’s courses because that was a problem for another day, Childe has his first, crazy, nonsensical dream.

At least, that’s what he tells himself when he snaps awake and his body aches with exhaustion. Not only are his joints in agony, he also feels like he’s sporting unforeseen bruises, which makes absolutely no sense because he hasn’t done anything that would warrant them, no matter how much he and his brothers do some rough-housing. His night of sleep was all consumed by flashes and scenes of weapon fighting, lucid enough to remember feeling his arms flex and wield bows and double-headed polearms and being cognizant of all the enemies??? surrounding him. They ranged from deranged looking monsters, floating beings with soulless masks, and large humans in electricity-padded armor, to behemoth machines in the sky that could leave you within an inch of your life thanks to a drill for a hand?!

But what’s even worse is that you seem to have managed a deal with Morpheus himself and infiltrated his dreams. You were there, too, sometimes fighting with him, sometimes against him, much to his dismay, and while it was nice, he just didn’t get it. Why the friendliness and hostility? Why was there an anger that overtook him when looking directly at you, parrying your blade and sending harmful arcs of water toward your figure?

Why did he relish the fear in your eyes when he darted towards you with electricity cracking through the air?

There’s an overwhelming sensation now to grab his phone to text you and apologize -- for what, he can’t fathom and there are no words to accurately convey what he’s thinking. “Hey, sorry for wanting to kill you in my dream :( “? Or “Sorry for being a friend but then stabbing you in the back, but then being nice to you again”?

And the only thing that really made sense was the serenity and contentment that would course through his veins as the two of you danced around on ivory sandy beaches, picking up shiny blue starconches and taking down more weird creatures; the breathlessness when you would fall back into the water and re-emerge to reconfirm his beliefs that you were one of the most beautiful humans he’d ever laid his eyes on; the love--

Hold the fuck up.

He doesn’t love you. He likes you a whole lot and he’s severely and deathly attracted to you, but he doesn’t love you. Your existence has only been made known to him for about two months, and he didn’t really start talking to you until three weeks in. So no matter how comfortable he feels with you, no matter how much he wishes that you were sleeping peacefully next to him so his nights wouldn’t feel so lonely, it was too early, too hasty, to say that he loves you.

“I’ve been wondering, why didn’t you bring them home?” His mother asks him out of nowhere during breakfast, all to add to this extremely tumultuous roller-coaster morning he’s been having. All he wants to do is eat his bowl of milk and cereal, then potentially go back to sleep before fulfilling his promise to go with his siblings to the nearby skating rink. It takes everything in him to not choke on his spoon of grains.

“Agreed, didn’t you mention they didn’t really have any family to go back to and that the move to Liyue was semi-permanent?” His father chimes in, laying a quick peck on his wife’s temple. “It’s never fun to spend the holidays alone.”

“They would’ve felt like they were intruding,” Childe replies quietly, stabbing his bowl a few times before scooping up another spoonful of cereal to his mouth. “I know we’re friends, but we haven’t known each other for that long, and maybe they’d be uncomfortable because that’s a lot honestly…”

“You don’t know until you try,” his mother sings and pats him on the shoulder. “We do have a guest room after all.”

“For them and their twin?”

“And quite a comfortable futon with enough blankets.”

Childe smiles fondly at his parents’ kindness. He can only imagine what this winter break would’ve been like now -- you and your twin floating around, trying to help out with certain chores, sitting by the fireplace and watching TV, huddled up with mugs of hot chocolate, playing board games with everyone and engaging in all the shenanigans…

Laughing. Loving. Grinning. Basking.

Handing over one of his hoodies to you as a sick way of torturing yet blessing himself for seeing how lovely you look in his clothes, standing silently in the doorway as you attempt to help out with mealtimes next to his mother, watching you run around in the backyard and dodging his siblings’ snowballs while lodging a few of your own -- how wonderful it all would be.

But he squashes it down as quickly as possible, because you escaped his grasp. You ran away from his advances temporarily and even though you gave him permission to seek you out come the spring semester, he worries that you might take it back. Something will wake up inside of you to keep him out of your heart and your life, and he’s not confident enough at this point to believe there’s a good chance you will come spend the holidays with him and his family next year.

“Maybe next year, ma,” he sends her a hesitant, yet somewhat broken purse of his lips that’s just the least bit curved. It tells her everything he’s thinking, and the quick patting of his cheek lets him know she understands.

Half an hour later, Childe finds himself curled up on his side under the sheets, phone in hand as he stares at a blinking cursor. It shouldn’t be so hard to send a text to convey his holiday greetings, because that’s all it is -- part of him is becoming desperate and aching for some interaction with you, even if it’s just a text sent back for conventional social pleasantries. He’ll take it for now, right?

Before he can totally chicken out, his thumbs quickly type a, “Happy Holidays, (y/n) :)”, and it’s a little embarrassing how quickly after he hits the ‘send’ button that he tosses it over his shoulder so he’s not directly looking at it anymore. His heartbeat is too quick and he prays for no phantom vibrations or phantom sound notifications to avoid any disappointment of thinking he got a reply. It was a harmless text, yet he’s treating it like he just got assigned on a mission to go and murder someone for the first time. What will he do if you never text him back? Does that mean you really don’t want to talk to him? Are you dead in a ditch somewhere? Did you change numbers and not tell him? Did your twin get all the details and make the executive decision to block his number? Will he never get a chance to talk to you again, even if it’s about something in the Teyvat Mythology class next semester? Will you--

His shoulder screams in protest when he quickly flips himself over at the text notification sound, hands shakily unlocking his phone and opening up your conversation again. His heart rate significantly decreases, reaching back to its normal pace, especially as he reads the little words on his screen.

“Happy Holidays, Ajax ^^”

There is hope.

-

“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?”

You’re huddled under the comforter of your twin’s bed, phone just peeking above the edge as you stare at it with a brightness in your eyes. For the most part, you had been sulking there, apart from meals and going back to your own room to sleep, and mentally berating yourself for the way you reacted to Childe the week before.

“He just texted me to say happy holidays,” shrugging to put on a facade of indifference. It’s stupid that you’re trying to hide your feelings from your twin of all people, who could pick apart and identify your emotions in a heartbeat. A roll of his eyes lets you know that you haven’t fooled him at all.

“So you think that whatever comment he made, which was very suggestive and indicative of clearly non-platonic feelings, was just something...friendly? Remind me again how you came to that conclusion?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking!” You whine, looking around to see if there was anything you could toss at him. “It’s just, with everything, all the dreams and stupid gut feelings, I just -- I don’t know, okay?? I can’t tell you enough how much I wish I had just kissed his stupid face and see where it goes from there.”

“Okay, gross, but don’t beat yourself up. Though...I do have a good idea on how to maybe get a good reaction out of him. You wanna go to the New Years’ celebration at Xiangling’s?”

“I think she’d threaten me with a knife if I didn’t. She wanted to go shopping at some point, too.”

“I’ll drop the overprotective brother act for one night, okay? One night, just to let this happen, and for your peace of mind.”

He does a fair amount of conspiring with Xiangling, a friend they met one time at a restaurant a couple years ago, even tagging along on the shopping trip. Together, the three of you find yourself a dress that Xiangling swears would make any person drool over you, including Childe, because at the end of the day, he was a person with the possibility of being attracted to you.

You think it’s a bit silly, but honestly, what do you have to lose at this point?

-

At 11:57PM on New Years’ Eve, Childe is standing outside in the freezing cold with his family, arms lifting up bags of sparklers and fireworks. They’ve driven out closer to the wild like they do every year, and everybody excitedly gets lighters ready, making sure someone’s got a clock out there that tells the seconds. As the younger kids open up the packaging and argue over which one to set off first, Childe’s phone vibrates in his coat pocket.

It’s 11:58PM when he manages to fish the device out and thank himself for buying gloves that are touch-screen friendly, excited to see that there are two texts from you, the latter reading, “Happy New Year!”. It doesn’t matter that you’re a little early, but he’s mainly intrigued by the fact a photo came before it. In his mind, you’re probably curled up with your twin brother, hopefully a selfie because wow, he misses your face.

He gets something else instead, and he is so glad that it’s dark outside and the electric lamp they have is too far away from him to draw any attention.

You have your arm around your brother’s waist and another girl’s that he doesn’t recognize, but it’s a full frontal view of your outfit, one that hugs your curves beautifully and shows more cleavage than he’s ever seen from you, sophisticated and elegant, yet fun and leaving enough to the imagination. There’s a bright smile coming from all of you, and you look like you’re at someone’s house or apartment with plenty of other people milling around in the back, but they don’t matter, not when all he can focus on is you.

Gorgeous, breathtaking, arousing, mind blowing, and gods, he wishes he could teleport to Liyue at this moment, find you, and kiss you right at midnight. Fuck the fact that he doesn’t exactly believe in superstitions like, “Kissing your significant other at midnight means you’ll last forever!” but he’s willing to take the chance with it on this night and the ones after, if he’s allowed. He tries not to think too much about pinning you against the wall and letting the world dissolve -- wants to be the one with the privilege to drag down that zipper and feel his bare skin on yours, and --

As Teucer starts yelling there’s only a minute left, he instinctively locks his phone and shoves it away out of anyone’s view. The last thing he needs is his family teasing him about ogling at your photo for a straight 50 seconds, wide-eyed and pupils on the verge of dilating, the visible breath leaving his mouth just a smudge more dense and prominent than usual.

The only thing he can do to distract himself from popping a boner in front of his parents is to join in on the countdown, making sure all the fireworks are set up correctly and grabbing a sparkler for himself. He waves it around with Tonia and promises to fulfill her wishes of taking one of those pictures right as she draws a pattern in the air. Their excitement is palpable and addicting, and even though the larger fireworks set off a few seconds after midnight hits, the nostalgia fills his lungs with fond memories and future wishes that they only continue this tradition for as long as possible, and hopefully, with you at his side.

-

When it’s 12:04AM, you get a picture message back of Childe bundled up in a black paletot coat, matching beanie and all, a gloved hand holding a sparkler and lips curved upwards, with a caption that says, “Happy New Year’s! See you soon :)”. You show it to Xiangling and your brother, both taking it as a win in their books, although the former does tipsily protest that there should be a better indicator of Childe’s brain breaking at how amazing you look right now. Maybe she’s prophetic, because another text chimes in and the words set you aflame, as well as suggestive whoops into your ears.

It’s a simple, “You look incredible btw”.

If you didn’t want to properly savor this moment, you would’ve found the nearest shot of the strongest liquor and tossed it back with abandon. But you want to remember the warmth in your veins that wasn’t from the alcohol or the heating, the fluttering of your heartbeat, the teeth-baring grin that you couldn’t fight off, the constant re-reading of those four words -- because they’re so different from everything you had been feeling before with him, the need for protection, the need to escape. Instead, you’d like to be in his arms right now and see for yourself how he’d look at you in this moment, and if he would take any action.

You want him to. So, so bad.

-

Childe spends his last week at home hating the fact that you’re just sitting around somewhere in Liyue, doing whatever you’re doing, probably doing some light preparation for your last semester of classes, and he’s not there to take advantage of all this free time and hang out with you. When classes start, it’ll be busy and hectic. You still have your thesis to finish and revise, and while that won’t eat up all your time, it’s still some that he’d want to fill in with his presence if he could. He debates whether or not he should ask for your schedule and compare it with his, maybe set up meetings every other day or propose that they all eat one meal together every day. Childe’s not quite sure of what you plan to do after graduation, as it hasn’t come up in conversation yet, but either way, he’s determined to stay in contact and make things work out. Long distance isn’t ideal, but with technology now, he’ll take it.

He feels a little bad for how excited he probably looked to be leaving home, uncharacteristic for the most part. His older siblings have already gone back to their respective homes, and it’s mainly Teucer and Tonia that worry and tear up when he starts packing his belongings. Tonia finds it unfair that Teucer got to meet you first and the latter makes sure to rub it into everyone’s faces. It’s hard for Childe to sleep on the plane because he’s thrumming with excitement, yet somehow even more nervous than usual when the plane hits small bouts of turbulence, and he doesn’t seem to relax until he sets foot back on campus.

He’s here. It’s January, and you’re physically closer to him than ever in the last two weeks.

-

“Found you.”

On the first day of classes, you’re sitting alone with some salad greens in a bowl, poking your fork at some scraps while you watch something on your phone, earbuds in and back towards the entrance of the canteen. It would explain the unannounced entrance of the very person who’s been at the forefront of nearly every thought in the last 96 hours, his fingers gingerly removing an earbud to surprise you as best as possible, and you startle in your seat.

Your heart kicks into overdrive when he hands you back your earbud and pulls out the seat next to you, setting his own plate of food down as he plops down in his chair. But then he says nothing afterwards, instead choosing to send you a cheeky grin before digging in. You’re left to slowly phase out of your state of shock, stuck between either running away or frantically texting your twin to come and save you even though he was off on a date with Keqing.

It’s not that you weren’t elated at the fact that Childe had done exactly as you told him last month, you just weren’t...prepared? It’s a shitty excuse and a cop out -- you’re mainly just having trouble with racking your brain to find the right words. What are you supposed to say? What should you do? Is it socially acceptable to lean over and kiss him on the cheek because that’s what you’d like to impulsively do at this very second??

“So you did,” you settle and steal a roasted potato wedge from his plate. It’s his turn to be taken by surprise, but he gets over it much quicker than you do. In fact, he spears two wedges and drops them in your bowl, smiling at you as best as he can with a mouth full of food. You give them your thanks before the silence settles in again.

“Did you have a good break?” He asks before his next bite.

“I did. You?”

“It was nice. My parents said I should’ve brought you and your twin home to spend the holidays with us. Can’t say it didn’t cross my mind before finals.”

Holy shit, what? “We couldn’t intrude like that, but that’s really nice of you guys.”

“That’s okay, there’s plenty of chances to visit later.”

You tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows. “But we graduate this semester?”

Childe challenges you with one of his own eyebrows raised. “And? Are we never gonna see each other again?”

Honestly, the possibility had occurred to you. You aren’t entirely sure of Childe’s plans after graduation, and if that meant he was staying in Liyue or going back to Snezhnaya or even moving to Inazuma or Mondstat. While people preach on and on about how lasting friendships and relationships are often formed during college, you believe it’s more common to slowly drift apart as life gets busier. And if Childe moved away, or if you did, it’d be hard to consistently keep in touch with 10 hour workdays.

The thought saddens you, regardless. You like him so much and you’re glad that he was even in your life to begin with, because as unbelievable as it sounds, seeing him was almost akin to the feeling of coming home. Amidst all your nerves, your confusion, your spiraling thoughts, something deeply sated in your heart was a comfort that you found with very few people in your life whenever in his presence.

The thought of leaving and never looking back somehow doesn’t feel new -- it’s bittersweet, but the air in your lungs feels like it’s surrendered to something, like it was to be expected.

“You can’t just leave without telling me--”

“It was last minute! I had no choice!”

“You could’ve written up a message, anything--”

“Can you imagine the position you’d be in if the message got intercepted? I wouldn’t have been safe, she’d make you come after me--”

“As if you’d be any safer in Inazuma of all places! That’s the one place I can’t easily get to!”

“I can take care of myself, Childe, I don’t need you to protect me.”

“This isn’t about me protecting you, (y/n) and -- stop walking, will you?!”

“Then what is this about?” You spin on your wheel with eyes aflame. “Why are you so angry with me? It’s normal for me to disappear for weeks at a time, why was this any different?”

“Because you could’ve died!” He yells back in despair, chest heaving. Your silence is his cue to continue. “You could’ve died and I wouldn’t have known until much later. You could’ve died and all I’d ever think about were the things I never got to say to you, and how I wish I had treated every day with you like it was our last.”

It isn’t hard to tell that you’re stunned and at a complete loss for words. Childe often hides behind facades of charm and wit, and only when he is truly weak does he choose to be this vulnerable, baring his heart for you to see.

“I only have two nightmares in this world. One, my family being harmed in any way. Two, reading in a report or hearing from an agent that you’ve been captured and killed.”

“I like to think that we will.”

His hand reaches out to lay on top of yours, giving it a quick squeeze. “Well, let’s make the most of it this semester.”

Conversation afterwards is easy, filling each other in on holiday activities. Childe speaks extensively about several family traditions and you listen with rapt attention, basking in how fond he is of all of them. Even as you both bring your dishes to the return belt and leave, he immediately offers to drive you both somewhere to get boba, noticing your reluctance to part ways. But boba shops have to close, and you both have class tomorrow morning, and you’re both finding any excuse to keep talking, even if that means sitting outside your dorm building on a nearby bench.

You eventually bid each other good night’s and see you later’s, him refusing to walk away until the heavy door locks shut behind you after you swipe your student ID, and you looking over your shoulder to watch his figure disappear into the night.

-

True to his intentions, Childe makes great efforts to meet you at least once a day, and he can’t get enough. Each parting from you tugs and tugs at his heart, as if there’s a high possibility you’ll never want to see him again the next day, and he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. Your twin and Childe get along well for the most part, and he even meets Xiangling on one of her shifts at her regular restaurant, who sends you a salacious wink and an eyebrow wiggle over his shoulder that nearly causes you to burst from embarrassment.

February rolls over without a hitch, even if you’re a little disappointed that Childe didn’t make a move for Valentine’s Day. Granted, you two still spent time with each other and he’s so darn physically affectionate and he bought you a carnation from the event his dorm held, but you wish you had the guts to fess up and just kiss the man.

It’ll happen some day, you tell yourself. You have time before graduation.

Two days before the end of the Friday that would signal the start of Spring Break, you wake up in a cold sweat, mind reeling and head splitting, heart so so heavy, as a connection is made between your present and your dreams. Not long after, there are tears streaming silently down your face and into your open palms placed in your lap, and you sit in shock as everything comes back to you. Memories are such treasured burdens, you realize.

For the most part, you had gotten used to the dreams, choosing to take charge of what you know and feel now with Childe over succumbing to some strange neurological premonitions. Especially in your dreams when many people’s faces were blurred over and hazy, and the only things you could rely on were voices, touch, and other physical features. You thought that maybe your mind was just playing tricks by transposing Childe’s hair onto a body that was also strikingly similar to his, but for the first time last night, you could see each defining feature on his face as clear as day.

The sight of his figure arching gracefully over yours, the water arrows that appeared out of thin air, the back that protected you from some military men, the voice that said, “Hey girlie, hold still.”

And that was when you had snapped awake to your current state.

Past the initial shock and uncontrollable tears, you soon bent over as sobs wracked your chest, overwhelmed by all the emotions and the pain the memories brought you; losing your twin, finding him to only be left with even more questions after roaming for decades and decades, meeting all your loved ones throughout Mondstat and Liyue, fighting yet falling so hard for Childe, feeling the fear when facing his Foul Legacy form, hating him for Osial, loving him, breathing heavily as the tip of your blade was pointed at his neck and his own just centimeters from yours, tendrils of water inching closer and closer--

Everything makes sense now.

When you meet your twin for lunch at the cafeteria, you pay no mind to the fact that you’re in public and hug him harder than you ever have in years. He’s already a little alarmed that your eyes seem swollen and you look like finals came two months early, but when he asks what’s wrong, all he gets is a shake of your head and nothing more than, “Just a bad nightmare. I love you, y’know that?”

“I love you too?”

“Don’t sound so unsure, now let’s go and get in line before they run out of Jueyun Chili Chicken.”

Even when you meet Xiao later in the early evening to talk about your thesis, you find yourself holding back more tears just two minutes in, reminded of his past and his own life, and he’s moderately concerned, hesitantly handing you a tissue from the corner of his desk when a stray tear escapes. “Is everything okay?” He hesitantly asks, really hoping that he didn’t do anything to make you cry.

“No,” you almost wail and sniffle while dabbing at your eyes. “Sorry, it’s just been a really long day.”

Xiao’s inquisitive gaze softens, remembering how hard undergraduate life could be sometimes. Graduate school was a whole other level, but that shouldn’t discount your own personal difficulties. Plus, in all of the year and a half that he’s known you, you’ve never broken down like this before in front of him.

“You work really hard, Xiao,” you continue, and he’s not sure where this is coming from. “You’re always so helpful and willing to work with me and answer my stupid questions and like-- you practice self-care, right?”

Xiao nods as a white lie, but it seems to comfort you. Maybe too much because you pull him in for a quick and unexpected hug, and you both decide to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow.

As per usual, you wait for Childe to join you for dinner since you finished up earlier than expected. It gives you more time to think about everyone from Mondstat -- Kaeya, Diluc, Lisa, Jean, Amber...funny to think that some things never changed as you compared their past version to the ones you know now.

“Mora for your thoughts?”

There’s a peace that warms your heart when you hear Childe’s voice, one that forces you to smile at him as he sits down next to you. “Just thinking about old friends.”

“I have to admit, I’ll be a little jealous if it’s another guy taking up more space than me in that pretty brain of yours.”

What a flirt. This man isn’t good for your heart. “Who said you had any to begin with?”

He dramatically places a hand over his heart. “You wound me, (y/n). How will I ever recover?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you snicker. Childe reaches over to pinch your cheek and you bat at him in protest. Easily, he grabs one of your hands and simply pulls you towards the food lines, knowing that you’ll stop fighting back soon.

Part of it feels strange now to feel and see his hands with no leather gloves on.

“Childe,” you start halfway through your meal, continuing after he hums back in reply. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”

He freezes briefly, but recovers so quickly that if you hadn’t been watching so closely, you wouldn’t have noticed. “I think it’s neat, the idea of having past lives. Why do you ask?”

What he really wants to ask is if you’ve been having those dreams, too; if he’s starring in your nights like you have been in his.

“Just a thought, especially since you’re taking Teyvat Myth now, too.”

“Do you...do you think if there was a past life, that we knew each other?”

There’s something about the look of content on your face before you meet his gaze -- he thinks that you know more than you’re letting on but you’re holding back for some reason. He wants to know what’s going through your brain right now, why the fondness in your eyes sends a jolt through him like he’s been searching for it all his life, if you know anything about this magnetic pull between you two.

“I like to think that we knew each other well.”

-

Even though the first day of your returned memories was somewhat eventful, you couldn’t help but feel yourself wanting to pull back from Childe -- at least, until you can successfully compartmentalize which emotions belonged to you past self and which ones belonged to your current mindset. You didn’t quite agree with his duties and his affiliation with the Fatui back then, even if he had his reasons that did make sense, to some degree.

The killing, the threatening, so intent on stealing Rex Lapis’s Gnosis in the name of the Tsaritsa, summoning Osial as a mean to an end -- and you definitely can’t forget how stubborn he was in not listening to your protests, so caught up in his brain that you had betrayed him and sent you plummeting to a near-death experience despite his earlier promise of no intention of killing you specifically.

Everything had been toeing a faint, thin line with Childe then. Undeniable chemistry and tension, guarding yourself for yours and Paimon’s safety, slashing at Fatui agents, whispering out pleas and affirmations of “I’m yours” while riding him, sometimes having to sneak out in the mornings…

The only thing you don’t remember is how everything ends -- maybe it’ll come back to you eventually, but for now, you think you’re okay not knowing.

If Childe still doesn’t remember anything from back then, you think it’d be unfair to spend time with him in all your conflicting emotions, even when it’s spring break, where you have so much more hours in the day to be with each other than normal. Fun plans around Liyue had been made, like a two-day one-night trip to Yaoguang Shoal, and you’re this close to cancelling on him.

But he had been looking forward to it so much, even made most of the preparations for it. Who are you to rob that joy from him when it was you who couldn’t figure out your own shit? Are you self-destructing?

Perhaps.

Before you know it, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, staring out the window at the scenery. Somehow, it pleased you to see that the nature of Liyue had been carefully preserved over the many centuries despite its development into the modern age. You get lost in picking apart the differences between then and now that you don’t notice how quiet you’ve fallen and Childe looks over worriedly when you show no reaction to your favorite songs playing on the stereo.

Even when he calls your name once, twice, nothing gives as you clearly have tuned everything out. So he leaves you be until there’s about half an hour left on the drive, unable to hold back and succumbing to reach over for your hand. You startle so strongly that he almost feels bad for having done it unannounced. But what’s even more disturbing is that this isn’t really the first time.

You’ve been talking to him less, often sitting quietly and staring off into another world that he can’t seem to reach. His texts are answered less frequently and with less wit and enthusiasm, so much so that he just appreciates you still show up to see him. Each time he asks if you’re okay, you always affirm that you are. He’s had a hard time believing you, but Childe believes you’ll tell him when you’re ready, surely.

It’s a little ironic yet fateful that Childe planned to bring you here, of all places. In the past, you had spent many days and nights running around in the sand with him, fighting slimes and hilichurls and collecting starconches for him. You remember laying on a large towel next to him as you both looked up into the sky, pointing out stars and constellations while sharing endless kisses away from prying, spying eyes.

“I’m sorry, I must’ve zoned out,” you sincerely apologize.

“It’s okay, I just wanna make sure you relax while we’re here. This is supposed to be a vacation.”

“You’re right,” you agree and squeeze his hand. “Let’s make the most of it before we become adults who are too busy to have fun like this again.”

And you do. Childe rented a small beach cabin (rich boys) closer to one end of the shoreline, just big enough with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small kitchen with a dining table. You help him bring in your bags and some groceries bought the night before, setting them down quickly so you can peer out the window again to take in the view. Childe picked a good time, too. Although it’d be a little chilly at night, the day was still warm and mainly overcast with clouds.

“What do you say we change into our swimsuits and head down to the water?”

“Sure.”

Childe hadn’t really been expecting for you to step out in a large, casual tee and gym shorts, one shoulder exposed. He might have been hoping to see a little more skin, but his mother didn’t raise a chauvinistic pervert for a son.

The light in your eyes as you both approach the water is everything he had been missing the last few days, your excitement and joy contagious. As soon as you place everything down on the sand, you kick off your flip flops and leave him behind to step into the water, giggling at feeling the waves crash over your ankles and bring sand between your toes. Childe approaches you from behind and starts smearing sunblock on the back of your neck, to which you just grin beautifully at him in thanks and he has to fight off the desire to kiss you right then and there.

You’re too caught up in embracing the ocean afterwards to feel the shrinking distance between you two, mistaking his warmth for the general spring air. It isn’t until he’s done with your shoulders that he hands you the bottle to leave you to do the rest of your body, and when you turn to thank him, he’s much closer than you remember. His eyes are gentle, holding your gaze and almost daring you to look away first.

But if there’s one thing you can place without a shred of doubt, it is the unmistakable look of love, because you had seen it many, many times before without knowing until later what it meant.

How so incredibly lucky you were to have Childe back in your life now, loving you all the same, and with no life-threatening barriers. Fate or the Archons have given you a second chance, and you’d be damned to take it for granted.

Childe welcomes your lips against his, wasting no time to bring you into his arms so you’re pressed against him as much as possible. He can’t care for the overt public display of affection because this is everything he’s wanted for months now, waiting patiently for you to give him permission to make you his. Your lips are incredibly soft and pliant against his as you first kiss him patiently, then applying more force and desperation to taste more of him. He mirrors you, one hand cradling the back of your head and the other on your neck with a thumb extended to your jawline, teeth moving to nip at your bottom lip. It’s dangerous, the way you smile against his lips, and when he sinks his teeth in deeper before pulling back, your quiet mewl nearly drives him over the edge.

But you’re in public, and this was an amazing first kiss. You two have a beach to enjoy and a fun night planned, and now that he doesn’t have to hold back on his affections, it’ll be even better.

His lips part from yours regretfully, his eyes languidly opening to meet yours. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots a blue starconch in the sand and freezes.

It’s not that he’s never seen one before, but something clicks. You. The shore. Starconches. Starry nights. His dreams. Monsters. Gods. Fighting. So much fighting. Training. His family. Dragons. You. Falling. You falling. You fighting him. Yelling. Kissing. Loving. Chasing. Him chasing you before you disappear at a teleport waypoint that somehow you only can operate. The abyss. Your twin.

Oh, Archons.

“ -ou okay, Ajax? Ajax?”

He snaps to look at you again. How does he go about this? How does he ask?

“(Y/n)...have you ever heard of the Fatui Harbingers?”

He has to admit that it’s a bit amazing to be able to identify all the emotions that cross your complexion, from curiosity to realization to conflicted. You’re actively trying to piece everything together without revealing too much on the off-chance that you’re wrong, that Childe hasn’t regained his memories and is just asking about something from class randomly and completely out of the blue.

Wait.

“You haven’t reached that material yet in class,” you whisper, heart in your throat at the realization. Could it really be…

“I was once Tartaglia, eleventh Harbinger of the Fatui, who possessed a Delusion and used my Foul Legacy Transformation with you several times,” he murmurs back, tucking a stray tendril behind your ear. “Is it too late to apologize again for summoning an ancient god and letting you fall about five floors with no warning?”

He should’ve been prepared for you wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “No, never, but I spent weeks after kicking your ass so you’ve been long forgiven.”

Childe burrows his face into your neck, breathing in your scent and basking in this moment. There was so much to talk about, but you two arguably had more time in the world than ever with nothing holding you back. There was no impending war looming over, no one on the run, no opposing forces. His silent wish for a different life with you seems to have been answered finally. If running into you had been the event to set everything in motion, he only wishes he’d done so earlier.

All that matters now is you’re here together in this plane of existence, given a chance to love again, and experience everything you couldn't before.

As written in the stars, take my soul for it is forever yours.

fin

[ultimate-distaster-material]

-Saiouma Oneshots- Kindergarten Teacher! Kokichi x Parent! Shuichi

>Quick Disclaimer< In this story, Monaca is nice- Her legs are actually disabled as well. I tried to mention everyone who is in the actual story's POVS. The adults are 22 whereas the kids are 5. Kirigiri and Shuichi are childhood friends too.

This story is very long, it was made to show my appreciation for all of the support. Sorry it took so long for me to update.

!TW!

Family Issues

Mentions Trauma

Mentions Dead Bodies

kIsSinG (Ok I'll stop)

KOKICHI POV

“So, Nagisa. I heard you’re getting a new caretaker?”

I looked at Nagisa, pitying the poor boy. He never had good parents. They would always force the youngling to work, days over days, sometimes hitting him to help him stay awake. That’s his reason for being very smart at a young age.

I would always stay here with him in the afternoon, occupying him so he doesn’t have to go back home.

“Mhm! I heard he’s a boy, I hope he’s nice!”

I smiled at the small boy. Even with all the despair he has been through during his life, he still had a glimpse of hope resting in his heart. I admired him for this, he was very strong for pulling through all the drama, especially as a child.

“Y’know, I’m gonna miss going here when I grow up. Will I ever see you again?”

“I mean, I could probably get in contact with your new caretaker, and could visit you once in a while…”

“I don’t wanna leave this place…”

I comforted him as his tears threatened to fall from his eyes, tracing random designs on his back, listening to his troubles. I suddenly heard a knock on the door. I energetically got up from my seat, Nagisa following close behind me, and then opened the door.

There was a man with teal blue hair and a detective uniform standing at the door. He looked kinda sexy-

“Hello, Mr. Detective~ You here for something?”

He stared at me before handing me a few slips of paper. Adoption papers? Wha-

“Who are you?”

Nagisa was a little scared, as he was a detective. The poor boy probably thought that the man was here for something serious.

I hushed Nagisa as I pulled him infront of me, giving him a good view of the man.

“My apologies…I’m Shuichi Saihara. Nice to meet you.”

I nodded at him and decided to introduce Nagisa and myself/

“I’m Kokichi Ouma, and this is Nagisa. Judging by the adoption papers, I’m guessing you’re here for Nagisa?”

He nodded and shook the hand I held out to him. He had such a calming voice…

“Are you mean?”

“I promise I’m no-“

“You smell like coffee.

“Wha-“

“Nagisa, it’s not ok to interrupt people y’know.”

Nagisa muttered a small ‘sorry’ to me and the man before getting his bag. He peered up at me with teary eyes. I could tell he didn’t want to go with a new parent, due to trust issues. I sighed and pat him on the head.

“You better take care of him.”

Shuichi smiled at me, reassuring that everything was going to be fine. I held out my phone with my contacts open.

“Phone number?”

I asked him as he took my phone (and ran off with it) and he handed me his, and we both entered each other’s phone number. Nagisa smiled as I showed him my phone, his eyes gleaming with hope and joy. I couldn’t help but smile back at him. Shuichi even grinned at us placing his hands gently on Nagisa’s shoulder. I waved them goodbye as they waved back, Nagisa ranting to Shuichi about me. I’m glad I was able to make him happy. I walked around the small room, arranging everything back into its normal places and counting all the items to see if they were still there. 10 paint brushes, 2 art easels, 20 pencils, 5 paint palettes, 40 books and 7 whiteboard markers. Looks like I’m running low on markers, I’ll grab some in the morning. I smiled and locked the door behind me. I strolled down the street under the glowing sky, showing colours of orange, yellow, red, and peach. I sat calmly at the bus stop, taking off my painting apron and stuffing it into my bag neatly. I placed earplugs into my ears and started playing my favourite playlist.

Soon the bus arrived, squeaking its brakes as it parked into the bus stop. I sighed and planted my feet onto the ground as boarded the bus. It didn’t take long to get home.

||Time Skip Cuz Lazy||

I jingled my keys as I brought them out of my pocket, slotting them into the lock and opening the doors to the kindergarten. I walked in, turning on the fans by a little, and the lights. I began to write whatever was happening onto the big whiteboard and restocked my pens. I smiled as children and parent sprawled into the room, yet keeping an eye out for Nagisa. If he had any new scars or bruises, or darker eyebags, Shuichi won’t be waking up the next day. I waited about five minutes, everyone was here, but the two people I had been waiting for.

Suddenly, the doors swung open, and I spotted Shuichi giving the small child a piggy-back ride. I smiled as they both grinned back at me, Nagisa climbing off the adults back and running over to me.

“Kokichi! You won’t believe it! He let me use his magnifying glass and we went to the park. He even pushed me on the swing! I love my new dad!”

I grinned wider, glad Shuichi was giving him a good treatment. He even said he loved him.

“That’s great Nagisa! I’m grateful that Shuichi has been treating you right.”

Shuichi lovingly hugged Nagisa.

“I better go, or I’ll be late for work! Bye, have a good day you two! I love both of you!”

The young boy I waved goodbye as the detective briskly walked out of the kindergarten building, waving us goodbye, blushing. Wait, he loved both of us…?

||POV Change||

SHUICHI POV

I walked out the door, blushing crazily. I can’t believe I said that. I’m so embarrassed…

I hopped into the car, driving down to the detective agency. When I had first met Kokichi, I thought he looked a little cute, but I just ignored my thoughts. I’ll just tell him I was talking Nagisa and his non-existent imaginary friend…yeah I’ll just do that.

I arrived at the agency, closing the door gently behind me and taking in a deep breath. The aroma of coffee wafted around the area. No wonder I smelt like coffee…According to Nagisa anyways.

“Good morning Mr. Saihara. You looked like you’ve slept well!”

My partner, detective Kirigiri. I grinned at her, starting to tell her about Nagisa. She nodded at me while I spoke, thankful that I finally had something to cheer me up. I had been so busy with work lately that I was so tired to even show much emotion.

“So, Shuichi. We have a new case to work on.”

“Hm? What’s it about?”

“Just a new murder case, the usual.”

I nodded at her getting my file reports organized and ready. She gave me some evidence, suspect reports, reports of the victim and the time and place of the murder.

“It seemed to be planned too…”

I muttered as she passed over a small picture which showed the room.

“Huh?”

I pointed at the picture, spotting a nearly invisible ‘escape route plan’ peeking out of the screen. You could only see half of it though.

“That’s new…”

“Wait…How did you know this wasn’t there? Weren’t you at the crime scene?”

“It was a photo in the victims camera roll. You were correct, I was there, but it seems like the killer needed this to escape.”

“That makes sense.”

“So, the killer must’ve either been scared they would mess up, has a bad memory or had minimum time to figure this out…”

She agreed with me and pointed to the wall again, pointing back to the photo.

“There seems to be something white in the vents that we never checked.”

She stated bluntly while narrowing her eyes to get a better look.

“You’re right! Why didn’t you check the vents though…?”

“Rats.”

“Wha-“

I shrugged it off and looked back at Kyoko, then the picture again. She smirked at me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“You wanna check it out, don’t you.”

“Kinda-“

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

I followed her out of the building, and we entered the car park, halting to a stop right infront of a shining, neon purple motorcycle. It gleamed in the sunlight and Kyoko continued to smirk at me.

“Chickening out?”

“N-No..”

“Good.”

She grabbed a helmet off the dark purple handlebars and gave it to me, claiming to have a spare one in her bag that she could wear. Which she did.

She hopped onto the motorcycle, gesturing for me to do the same. I gulped and lifted my leg over the seat and sat down, trembling.

“Hold on tight!”

I didn’t hesitate to do exactly as she told me. She revved the engine, and we took off down the road, her purple hair flowing viciously in the wind. I was petrified. We were going veryfast. I gulped as I felt the wind blow in my face. I rested my chin on Kirigiri’s shoulder, avoiding her purple hair flowing into my face as we raced around the city. The city lights were blurred, and people looked like smudge marks. I peered down at the road, barely able to adjust to the distorted white line and concrete. I felt a sickening dizziness, and my head just couldn’t keep up with my blurry surroundings. Yet, I felt like I was in heaven. The glorious wind blowing in my face, the soothing noises of the motorcycle engine, and the feel of Kyoko’s warmth. I closed my eyes, loosing touch with everything around me. I was in my own little world. That was, until I sensed the motorcycle slow to a halt and Kyoko’s small weight lift off the motorcycle. But since I was laying on her, she lifted me up too without realizing, and my body went tumbling forward, Kyoko’s doing the same.

“Sorry…”

I sighed and apologized, staring at the ground. She arose from the ground, dusting off her uniform and patting me delicately on my back.

“No worries, Saihara-Kun. Just be careful next time.”

I nodded as we barged into the murder scene, nobody being there.

“Watch out. We cannot predict anything. Expect the unexpected.”

I remembered her wise words and examined the room, Kirigiri assisting me by lifting me up, since I weighed less, and I unscrewed the vents to see a rat. Great. I sneakily snatched the paper and Kyoko lowered me back down to the ground, peering over my shoulder to see if anything useful was written on the small piece of white paper. It read,

Sorry, my dear friend.

“So, the victim was the culprit’s friend….

“Seems so.”

“Wait, why wasn’t it near the victim then?”

“When we arrived, the fan was on, making it completely possible to blow into the vents, in which the paper could slip through, and the rats could’ve possibly taken it.”

I nodded to show my agreement and we inspected the room a little longer. I spotted her typing on her phone a few moments later, sighing.

“Saihara-Kun.”

“Y-Yes?”

“Are you gonna leave your kid at kindergarten or…”

Shuichi blankly stared down at his wrist, reading the time.

2:12

Nagisa’s kindergarten ended at 2:00. He was over the other side of the city. He would be very late, as they had no car.

“Take my motorcycle. I want to stay a bit longer anyways.”

“Really? Thank you Kirigiri-San!”

I rushed out of the building, grabbing a sleek blue helmet and boarded the motorcycle. The wheels screeched as I raced across the city, my hair spasming in the wind. The motorbike’s wheels whirred as they rolled along the road, forcing the motorbike to drive faster. My hands gripped the handlebars incredibly tight, fearing the vehicle would stir out of control if I didn’t have power over the handlebars.

There it was. The kindergarten. I zoomed towards it, halting to a stop in the parking lot. I rushed inside, panting heavily as Kokichi and Nagisa were staring at me. The small, blue-haired boy ran over, enveloping me in a tight hug. I lovingly hugged back, patting his back in the process.

“Where were you? Parents shouldn’t be late, y’know.”

I gulped and peered up at the kindergarten teacher, mentally scolding myself. I knew I shouldn’t have been late. If it wasn’t for my partner, I would’ve left Nagisa there until I suddenly realized that he wasn’t anywhere nearby.

“Kokichi, don’t blame Dad! He had a really important case today!”

“Alright, just tell me next time.”

I muttered a sorry, and nodded, showing my understanding. The kindergarten teacher walked up to me, swiftly patting Nagisa’s head for a short period of time, then shifted to face me. I gulped, fearing I would get in trouble for not being a ‘good parent’.

“Why’d you call both of us cute.”

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about-“

“Why.”

I looked to the side, shivering a little and sighing. I soon peered back at him.

“Look..”

My ahoge resembled a deflated balloon. It was deformed, bent at every inch.

“It just slipped out, okay…?”

He looked at me, unamused, rolling his eyes and sighing.

“Totally…”

“Well, Nagisa and I have to go…”

“Alrighty! See you Nagisa!”

“What about me-“

“What about you?”

I rolled my eyes as I watched Kokichi ruffle Nagisa’s hair. He looked down at the boy expectantly.

“Nagisa has wanted to ask you something, but he’s clearly too shy…”

He nudged Nagisa knowingly, as the small boy stuttered out words.

“Well…I was wondering if some of my friends could have a sleepover…I’ve never had one, and…”

There was an awkward silence as my mind scanned over what I had planned next week. Nothing.

“Or not! T-That’s fine t-too!”

He looked sad and embarrassed at the same time, fiddling uneasily with his fingers, making eye contact with the ground.

“No, its fine! I was just trying to remember if I had anything scheduled next week…We can have one!”

Nagisa’s eye lit up, sparkles glimmering in his blue orbs. He shined so brightly as he bounced around the room excitedly. Then I realized something.

“Wait-“

“What?”

Kokichi looked up at me, clearly waiting for an answer.

“How am I gonna get Kyoko’s motorbike back to her-“

“You drove a motorcycle.”

“Yes-“

Kokichi jingled the keys on his short fingers, swaying them from side to side. He stared into my eyes, smiling.

“Want a ride then? I could pack the motorbike in the back of my car and drop it of to ‘whatever her name is’.”

“Kirigiri.”

“Right.”

The three of us strolled out of the kindergarten, after Kokichi had tidied up all the mess and checked up on everything, locking the doors behind us as we exited the building. Hopping into the car, we all drove off down the road, me directing the other adult towards the crime scene. Leaving the car, I unpacked the motorbike as Kokichi and Nagisa followed me in. I shifted to look back at the others.

“Uhm, I don’t think Nagisa should see this…”

“Why?”

I leaned into Kokichi’s ear and whispered to him.

“Dead body.”

He bobbed his head to show his agreement, Nagisa looking back and forth at us, confused. He held an arm infront of Nagisa, restricting him from going further, as I entered the building.

||POV CHANGE||

NAGISA POV

I watched as Dad entered the house, a bit worried. Why couldn’t I go in there? I decided to ask Kokichi.

“Why can’t I go in? What’s even in there?”

“Something you don’t want to see.”

I gave him a look of uncertainty, waiting for Dad to come back. I was a little worried, so I decided to start a conversation.

“I think you like Dad, am I right?”

“He seems pretty nice, probably would be a good friend.”

“No, you like Dad in that way. Not friendship, love.”

His eyes widened as he blushed furiously.

“W-Why would you t-think that, N-Nagisa?”

“So, you do like him.”

“N-No! I don’t!”

I rolled my eyes a little. It was so obvious. The whole time Kokichi and I were waiting for Dad, he was talking about him. Literally the whole time. I remember our conversation, word for word.

||Flashback||

“Alright! Time to go everyone!”

Kokichi opened the doors, the young children flooding out of the kindergarten. He sighed as he looked around after all the young kids were safely returned to their parents.

“Nagisa, where’s Shuichi?”

“He told me he was investigating today, apparently it was really serious!”

“Right…”

Kokichi sat on one of the chairs, relaxing his legs and leaning against the table. I did the same, and looked at him.

“Y’know, Shuichi is kinda hot.”

“Wha-“

“His hair is pretty, don’t you think?”

All I could do is agree. Kokichi peered down at his watch. 2:10. He sighed.

“I’m just going to text him-“

“Don’t.”

“Why not?”

“He never answers when he’s at work…”

Kokichi fiddled the phone in his hands, clearly annoyed. Probably wanted to see Shuichi. Who knows?

“I know someone who does answer their phone though.”

He peered at me and handed me his phone. I cheerfully took it and tried to memorize their number. Typing it in, I quickly added the number to Kokichi’s contacts and texted the person. I had seen their number when Shuichi and Kokichi exchanged phone numbers.

‘Hello, do you know Shuichi Saihara by any chance? If so, do you know where he is?’

‘Yes, Shuichi is my work partner at the detective agency. We are currently investigating together. Who is this?’

‘This is Nagisa, his adoptive son. I’m texting him on my kindergarten teacher’s phone. I just wanted to tell him that kindergarten ended 12 minutes ago.’

‘Thank you Nagisa. I will have Shuichi know. He sure is forgetful.’

‘Thank you! Can I please know your name?’

‘Kyoko. Kyoko Kirigiri.’

‘Wait, how do you know my number?’

‘I memorized it when I saw Shuichi and my teacher exchange numbers. Sorry if that’s creepy or anything…’

‘It’s fine. I have to go now. Goodbye Nagisa!’

‘Bye!’

I turned off the phone, the glowing screen fading into pitch black darkness. I peered at Kokichi, telling him that Shuichi should be here soon.

||Present Time||

We were still waiting for Shuichi when I spotted Kyoko and himself exit the huge building. Kyoko stared at me, grinning slightly.

“Are you Nagisa?”

I nodded as she walked up to me, ruffling my hair playfully, then glaring at Shuichi. I could see him gulp and look away.

“And you are…?”

“I’m Kokichi, Nagisa’s teacher.”

“Nice to meet you.”

They shook hands, smiling at each other joyfully.

||POV CHANGE||

KIRIGIRI POV

I’m a little disappointed in Shuichi if I’m being honest.

Leaving your kid who’s in kindergarten with his teacher?

I mean, me and Shuichi have known each other since we were kids and happened to get into the same agency. I know Shuichi. He is forgetful, but not this forgetful. I mentally facepalmed at his previous actions and shook hands with Kokichi.

Nagisa and Kokichi look like they have a close relationship.

I disconnected our hands, watching as Kokichi signalled for Shuichi to enter the car. The two closed the doors behind them, waiting for Nagisa to say goodbye. The younglings hand reached for the door handle, struggling to open the car door. I went to assist him, just to realise it was locked. Shuichi and Kokichi strained to unlock the doors from the inside.

How did this even happen-

“D-Dad!”

Nagisa panicked as he saw the two people he seemed to be the closest to stuck inside the black and white car. I sighed as I saw the trapped kindergarten teacher flirt with the parent. Shuichi literally looked like his parents were a combination of a tomato and strawberry. I watched them as they continued to flirt together. I mentally facepalmed and refocused on the incident infront of me.

I saw Nagisa’s confused face as he walked up to peer through the window, prying into their business. I gently tapped the window, catching their attention.

“Are you two lovebirds done?”

I yelled from the other side of the window. They both were facing me, furiously blushing. In full honesty, they look like they dyed their faces bright pink.

“I’m going to break the window- “

“NAGISA DON’T- “

Too late. Nagisa had grabbed a rock off the ground and pounded it against the window.

“Really- “

“Sorry I was panicking…”

“It’s fine…”

“I guess we’re driving back with a broken window.”

“I guess they call you a detective for a reason!”

Kokichi laughed at his own joke as Shuichi giggled as well. It was so obvious they liked each other, they were so blind and dense. I could tell they liked each other, yet they were uncertain the other loved them back. I sighed and grabbed my purple helmet, putting the blue one Shuichi used in my sleek black bag.

“I’ll be going now.”

I waved goodbye as I hopped onto the motorbike, smiling as my purple streaks of hair flowed relaxingly behind me as I sped down the road. Out of the corner of my eyes. I could see the Kokichi pull Shuichi into a quick kiss through the car’s windscreen, Nagisa just staring in horror. Poor innocent thing.

-BONUS SCENE-

||TIME SKIP||

||W.O.H SLEEPOVER PLANNING||

||3RD PERSON||

“Hey Nagisa…Hey Jataro…I was thinking, I really want to get away from my parents…Do you know anything I could do?”

Kotoko raised a finger to her chin, in deep thought, looking a little depressed. Jataro looked sad as well.

“I just want to get away from everyone…”

Nagisa peered down, sad from seeing his friends loose hope. Monaca wheeled herself over to join our conversation.

“I just want someone to notice me…”

Masaru sat on the ground soon after, despairful.

“I just want to have a peaceful household…”

Nagisa peered down at the ground, wanting to encourage his friends to be joyful. Sure, he had trauma as well, but there is still happiness. He just began to spit out words of reassurance to his small group of friends.

“Jataro, why would you want to disappear from everyone? We are all here. We want you to be here. What’s that point in leaving everyone if everyone needs you here?”

He peered up at Nagisa, who was staring at him, the boy’s wise words causing a smile to form on his face.

“Monaca, we are your friends We notice you. Stop acting like nobody does, because if you haven’t already guessed, you are our friend. We notice you. Why would I be talking to you if I didn’t know you were here?”

She smiled at the blue haired boy, watching as some of the other kindergarten teachers came over. Komaru, Toko and Nagito stood there, watching their students, along with Kokichi who the whole time had secretly been there, unnoticed.

“Masaru! Kotoko! I think I have a solution to your problems!”

Nagisa shouted as the teachers watched, inspired by the boy’s acts of hope. Nagito especially. Toko had to slap a hand over his mouth so they wouldn’t interrupt the kids. Nagisa thought of the time where he was talking to Kirigiri while saying his goodbyes. She had told him these exact words.

“Shuichi has been so happy since he adopted you, y’know. I’ve been thinking about what my future would be like if I had a child. Say, did you know any that need a better home? I do want more than one though…”

“There is a solution I might have, but I need to check. Also, my Dad agreed on the idea to have a sleepover!”

“Sounds great!”

Everyone cheered in unison as they started planning what they would do, also deciding what snacks to bring. Monaca was spinning in her wheelchair in excitement, Masaru pushing her around in circles while Jataro inspired them to continue. Kotoko and Nagisa were drawing each other with crayons, Kokichi sitting on the other side of the table, spreading conversations.

Soon enough, it was time to go home. They all wished each other goodbye, as Kokichi drove Nagisa back to their house. They parked in the driveway, to see Shuichi waiting for them on their front porch.

“Good afternoon you two! How was your day?”

Kokichi ruffled Nagisa’s hair as he explained his day to Shuichi, also asking if he could tell Kirigiri about what I had found out.

“Ah- Sorry, Kyoko wants to see me. I will tell her the news as well Nagisa.”

“Bye!”

The small boy and Kokichi cheered and waved in unison, watching as Shuichi peered back at them, about to leave.

“Bye! I love both of you. And this time, I mean it.”

[what-the-waterbear]

Too Many

Hi friends, I wanted to write about love potions and first dates this week, but with the world the way it is, the words I was hoping for couldn’t make it. Instead, these are the thoughts that I had to get out of my brain.

So here’s a LONG story for the biography I will never publish.

I was six years old when the Iraq War began. My mother would drive me to school, and in the years before spotify and bluetooth, we would listen to CDs or cassette tapes, yes, cassette tapes that have faded into obscurity like 8-tracks and VHS. But many days while I was drinking juice in my car seat or babbling about my friends, we would listen to the radio until we reached the parking lot where I would race to the four square line with all the other giggly children.

We would listen to the radio and my mother would never change channels during the news segments. We existed in the world, and my mother never hid the world from me.

I remember a lot from first grade. I remember reading the little green book with the fraying spine that had stories of dime stores and soda parlors, children going places by themselves, of being a “sore-winner”. A book written in a long ago time that I would never know when America did not know how to lose. I remember sitting in the hall with the teacher’s aide writing letters in chalk until my penmanship began to match the example and my papers looked like my classmates. I remember Mrs Overgaard asking us what we learned over the weekend, and I can still see the horror on her face when I began describing the news that the US was torturing prisoners of war in Iraq. My mother probably received a concerned phone call that evening. Regardless, we existed in the world and my mother never hid the world from me.

Of all my memories from first grade, I recall more of the drives to school than any moments in the classroom or on the playground. I remember reaching my hand on the passenger seat in front of me, so my mom could paint my tiny nails at the stop lights because we were running late, but she promised. I remember singing along to Amy Grant at the top of my lungs and mimicking my mom as she played an imaginary piano during the medley’s opening riff. I remember looking at the pond next to the road when the radio reported on the war. I remember trying to read the sign on the Walgreens across the street when the radio told us the death toll for the week. I remember when they said only 98 civilians and 1 soldier died yesterday compared to the 257 that had died the day before. I remember being an optimistic child who said “That’s good! ONLY 98 people died. That’s less than 100!” 

I remember my mom taking her eyes off the red light. I remember her face when she turned around to look at me. I remember the color and the smell and the feel of the moment all meticulously cataloged in my brain 20 years later. I remember when she told me, “One person dead is too many”. 

My mother never hid the world from me, so she taught me how to exist in that world.  

I still listen to the radio. My destination is no longer the little elementary school with the red awning and the carpeted gym, but the drive is still filled with intersections from my childhood.

It’s January, and the morning snow is more messy than peaceful as I shift into neutral and skid to a halt in front of the empty storefront that used to hold a pizza shop with nice owners that let me sit on the counter when I would practice my abc’s with them. “...Italy has reported 167 deaths over the weekend…” One person dead is too many.

It’s February, and I sit impatiently at a redlight next to the park district where my 4th grade crush and I went sledding. “...Washington state has reported the first death due to COVID in the US…””One person dead is too many.

It’s March, and I am putting on a new set of gloves in front of my grandmother’s house. I used to sit with her and knit after dinner, telling her about all the new developments in my life. Now, I have left my cross stitch at home. I have to remember to keep my distance, just wipe down the  groceries and leave as soon as I can. It’s been over a month since I’ve hugged her. “...At this rate experts are estimating that 200,000 Americans will die from COVID-19 by the end of the year…”One person dead is too many.

It’s June, and my mom finds a spot on the corner next to the park where my friends and I entered an ice cream eating contest so many years ago. I won against the boy that was 5 years older and twice my size. I savour the air conditioning for another minute while gathering masks and signs. “...thousands continue to protest in response to the deaths of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor at the hands of police…” One person dead is too many.

It’s December, and I pass the warehouse where my mom and I helped a kind old man sort donated toys. That’s a memory so buried I’m shocked to recall it some 10 years later. I wonder how he’s doing.“... deaths are on the rise as the US reported more that 3,000 died from the novel Corona Virus yesterday. To put that in perspective, that is more people than died in 9/11 or about 2 people dying every minute…” One person dead is too many.

It’s January again, and the snow is thick as I hit the red light for the entrance to the park my friends and I would flock to every fourth of July, scampering around with fair food in coordinating outfits looking for a clear spot with a good view to set down our blankets. “...five people have died following the storming of the capital..” One person dead is too many.

It’s still January again, and I am so tired while waiting in front of the drugstore that I have only been to once before, after a school event to get a change of clothes so I could play cherry bomb at a park with the gaggle laughing teenagers in my car after curfew. I would love to still be in my bed right now, or at the very least not have to drive an hour back home, but it’s my dad’s birthday, and somehow a year later, rapid tests are still not easy to come by. “...the US COVID-19 death toll has surpassed 400,000…” One person dead is too many.

It’s February again, and I pass the triangle church where I met my best friend. The hill seems so much smaller than it did when I was two and there was nothing better than rolling through the grass. “...Two people including a child have now died due to the Texas power crisis. They suffered from carbon monoxide poisoning while using their car to keep warm…”One person dead is too many.

They are cold and sick and thirsty, but you blame the windmills?

They are huddling for warmth and boiling their water, but you say “don’t be weak”?

They are driving hours to bring blankets to dying parents in hospitals where there is oxygen but not water, but you believe that a virulent disease is a hoax?

What did you blame when New Orleans was below sea level?

What did you say when Flint couldn’t boil their water for five years?

What did you believe when California was burning?

In case you have never quite stopped hiding the world,

In case you have become numb to the numbers, 

In case your parents never told you,

I am here. 

Reminding you. 

ONE PERSON DEAD IS TOO FUCKING MANY.

[chu-ni]

miscommunication – ljn.

pairing: jeno x reader

genre: fluff, angst, royalty!au

word count: 19.6k (uff the most ive EVER written...)

warnings: jeno is a lil bit of a dickhead, sorry if the ending is a lil rushed bc i just wanted this fic GONE, hope its not as tedious for you to read as it was for me to write! this whole fic was inspired by this post! happy reading!

In a bid to preserve the future safety of their neighbouring kingdoms from the growing dangers of the northern empire, your parents, rulers of the southern isles, had you betrothed to the immediate heir of the southern mainland, Lee Jeno. You were 8 years old, and quite frankly didn't even know how to spell betrothal, let alone define it. True to tradition, Jeno, with his glasses, bowl cut, and stuffed cat toy came to stay with you for the next four years before he'd have to return to take up responsibilities as future ruler.

Upon first meeting, you thought Jeno was probably the nicest person you'd ever met, if a little boring. He was quiet, soft-spoken, giggly, and a little shy; you'd realised after he'd barely said more than 2 words to you that it would take you a while to bring him out of his shell. You dragged him on various mini adventures as kids (stealing cookies from the palace kitchens, watching the knights train from a bush just beyond the sparring grounds, playing in throne room and impersonating your parents when nobody else was there), and although at first he was reluctant, he became almost as bubbly and loud as you were -- while you preferred to live in the moment, saying and doing whatever you wanted, you were kids after all, he tended to think before he did things, always thinking about what could happen later on. In that sense, despite your differences, he became your moral compass of sorts, stopping you from being too reckless and bailing you out whenever you got into too much trouble. Did Jeno think he'd probably go bald before he turned 20 because of all the stress you put on him, whether that be you ditching tutoring to go climb trees and him reluctantly tagging along, or him having to practically drag you away from the stables before your parents found out and scolded you for the fourth time that week, or even that one time the two of you got locked in the kitchens at 3am with flour everywhere and the two of you had to clean it up and find somewhere to hide until the morning? Yes, and despite his constant state of anxiety and his frequent joking expression of his wish to go home already so he could finally get some peace and quiet, he still cared about you. Would probably jump in front of a carriage for you. Still considered you his best friend above all. Still appreciated you for bringing him out of his shell and changing him for the better. You and Jeno, as best friends would, spent all your time together. Getting married, the betrothal… it was in the backs of your minds, but at 11 ("Almost 12!!" "Shut up, Jeno,") years old, you liked to pretend you at least had the freedom to explore your romantic options (even if you both always managed to find flaws in every girl and boy. "His hair's too long," "She's too short!" "He looks mean," "She looks too nice,"), that you lived a different life, where royalty and alliances and all that jazz didn't exist for the pair of you. Where you were just two kids, two best friends who could do whatever they wanted and never have to worry about the consequences.  As much as you liked to pretend, however, it was just that. Pretend. An imaginary scenario that only went on for a limited amount of time before you inevitably had to return to reality. The two of you returned to reality 3 days before Jeno's 12th birthday, when your parents received a letter dating his return to the mainland. It was less than a week before he left you for,  well, ever. You had 5 days to say goodbye to your best friend, your closest confidant, your reluctant partner in crime. And you had no idea what to do. Jeno didn't like talking about leaving, so the two of you avoided the topic and hung out just as you'd always done.You were both in the library, his last day before he left, helping Jeno find a book he wanted when you brought up the topic. "Jeno." You murmur, stopping your search to look at him. At first glance, he seemed fine, but you knew he wasn't really. At least, you hoped he wasn't. Not in a bad way, no, never; but you hoped you'd made a strong enough bond as friends for him to feel something about leaving you for whoever knew how long. He replies with a nonchalant "Hm?", eyes still focused on the rows upon rows of literature in front of him. "Do you-" you clear your throat, trying to build confidence. "Do you think we'll see each other again?" He's silent for a moment, lips pouting and eyes to the ceiling, as if in thought, before stating, with confidence: "I know we will." You're not fully convinced, and it must show because the way Jeno smiles as brightly as possible calms your worrying heart. Jeno leaves the next morning, and you say goodbye with a tight hug that Jeno is 53% sure is the reason he wouldn't stop coughing on the boat home, and a pinky promise to write to each other every day, week, month, and so forth. He makes you promise not to cry. You break it as soon as he boards. You keep breaking it every night he's gone for the next 3 weeks, after which your parents are basically forcing you to make new friends. They've arranged playdates, tea parties, dances, balls; but absolutely nobody was going to replace Jeno, which is exactly what you thought your parents were trying to do and as such you made every effort not to let that happen. Did you deliberately cause trouble? Yes. Did you think Jeno would agree with what you were doing? No, but you were doing it for him and you were sure he'd understand anyway. So the next 2 months are littered with failed playdates, ruined tea parties, messy dances, and disgraceful balls, and even though you felt a little bad when you overheard your parents relentlessly apologising to the other adults, a bigger part of you was happy you wouldn't have to talk to any more stuffy noble children. At least not for the foreseeable future. It was only when your parents gave up trying to make you make friends that you, ironically, made one. You met Haechan while exploring ("Trespassing, more like," "Shut up, Haechan!") the knights' quarters one day. You'd overheard shouting and insults, so you peeked through one of the doors to see a kid who looked around your age, eyes pinned to the floor and fists clenched at his sides as the imposing man who stood in front of him spewed swear words and other things  you weren't sure you could repeat anywhere else. At that, you immediately stepped in to defend the boy, using your status to take Haechan back up to your own quarters in the palace, where the two of you properly spoke, or at least tried to before a handmaid had burst into your room, panting slightly, saying you'd both been summoned by your parents to the throne room, at which point your heart had leapt into your throat. The throne room, much like the rest of the palace, was lined with windows to let as much light in as possible. The walls were a pastel yellow, with paintings of previous rulers across the walls, and the floor was covered with rugs various shades of verdant green. The thrones themselves were nothing special; the only thing that denoted their specialty was the engraving of your family crest at the top of them. Seated upon them were, of course, your parents. Your mother was tall, lithe, and with an imposing gaze she often intimidated those she came into contact with. Behind all that, however, she was the goofy mother who'd sung made up lullabies to you as a child, who'd laughed when you stamped everything in your parents study with the royal seal, who'd nearly jumped out of her skin when you used flour to 'teleport' in front of her at the age of 6; she just hid it very well. Your mother had always taught you the importance of controlling your emotions, given you irreplaceable advice on the topic, advice you rarely ever put to use, but took in anyway. Your father, by contrast, was short -- well, not that short, but most people looked short when put next to your mother -- on the heavier side, with a trimmed beard and an open smile. Contrary to your mother, he was often the stricter, more disciplined one of the two. He nagged you often, something you didn't think you'd ever not find annoying, but he had your best interests at heart. The two of them, with their almost opposing personalities, made a good match for each other, and you saw the love they had for one another every day; with the way they looked into one another's eyes, the way your father, even with his short stature, would step in front of your mother at the first sign of her feeling threatened, the way they worked together to solve every problem that ever appeared like magic, and you wished someone would look at you like that one day. You and Haechan, gazes fixed to the floor and hearts beating so fast you were sure anyone in a 50 mile radius could hear them, both trembled slightly as your father, who you'd hoped wouldn't be the one scolding you today, let his voice, low and commanding, travel across the room. "Y/N," His tone is expectant, quiet in volume, and you know what that means. You look up at him, and although he appears straight faced, the slight scowl and squint of his eyes betrays his annoyance. You could tell this was going to be another long-winded lecture. "Do you know why you've been summoned here?" He continues, re-adjusting himself to be more comfortable. You mumbled a reply, hating the fact that Haechan would be witnessing what was basically a daily occurrence. He says your name again in warning, and you speak up this time. "….My insolence," At that, he descends into a tirade that you stopped taking seriously once he mispronounced one of his words, at which you and Haechan made amused eye contact and hadn't stopped doing since. You tuned in and out of his rant catching bits of the same old same old story about "Fixing your manners!" And staying out of "Knightly affairs," until  your father couldn't be bothered to speak any more and simply brought in the knight you'd scolded yourself earlier. At much pressure from your father and mother, you apologised, not without gritting your teeth and sending an icy glare your father's way. Seeing as your father had summoned both you and Haechan to the throne, you'd naturally assumed he'd also be scolded, but you had to fight your jaw dropped when your father simply apologised to Haechan for the whole affair and sent him on his way. He was midway through opening the door to exit when you interrupted, "But father--" he'd raised a hand to cut you off, already being done with the conversation. "Who is the princess here, Y/N?" You snarled a "Me," under your breath, a part of you knowing you'd lost the argument before it'd even started. "So that makes it your responsibility to control yourself around others." He turned to go, before whirling back around, a finger pointed directly at you. "Especially the knights, damn it!" At that, he left, your mother following behind him, leaving you alone in the throne room. You waited till they were out of sight before releasing a frustrated groan, trudging back to your room, desperate for some alone time to sulk in your own emotions. You groan again when you find Haechan reading through one of your books on economic development (not like you'd ever read it anyways), not even bothering to acknowledge you until you stamp over to him and snatch the damn thing out of his hands, "Don't touch my stuff." You hiss. He pouts, disappointed, before rolling his eyes. "Thanks," he sighs, blasé. "For earlier." You open your mouth to reply, but judging by how he gingerly sits at the edge of your bed, you wait for him to continue. "If you hadn't come in then I probably would've said something I'd regret, and then my parents would be super mad, and then I'd probably have to start something stupid, like alchemy or something. God, I hate alchemy--" As bad of a mood as you were in, you couldn't help but to laugh. His deadpan yet relatable way of expressing himself reminded you of yourself a little, and you smiled softly to yourself. The sound of him whispering an accomplished "Yes!" under his breath causes you to look up at him in question. "That's what I wanted." His gaze softens as his eyes fall on yours, "You looked a lot worse before. I didn't think it was fair, given what you did for me. So that was my way of saying thanks." The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, you also noticing that Haechan's gotten more comfortable on your bed, as you both stare at the ceiling. You break the silence a little while later. "You're welcome." You'd originally planned to end the conversation there and go back to staring at the increasingly mundane ceiling of your room so you could seem cool and aloof, but you had a feeling Haechan wasn't the kind of person to care about things like that. "And….thank you, also." The tables turn. This time, it's Haechan who's looking at you, brows furrowed, lips curled, in question. "I'm not very good at knowing when to shut up, which you've probably noticed," he visibly scoffs at that, and you playfully glare at him in return. "I'm not very good at acting like a princess, either, so I find it hard to relate to other people in my, um, circle?" You question, mainly asking yourself, but he interjects anyway.  "Don't you have any friends?" You swallow, gritting your teeth. "I was getting to that," Embarrassed, Haechan slowly turns to face the window to his left. You sigh before continuing, "Anyway, I had a friend, but he moved away. And I hate the other noble kids; they're all the same, with their ugly clothes and weird hairstyles and the fact  that they're only nice to me when their parents are around--which is barely, by the way-- and how stupid they all are--" Haechan has turned back to look at you at some point during your rant, and there's a mysterious glint in his eyes as he smirks at you. "You're funny. Like me," he studies you for a second, his smirk growing into a grin. "We should talk more sometime," He sighs, then stretches as he stands from his position on your bed. He says nothing as he opens the door, turns to wave at you, and then disappears, closing the door behind him. To say you were a little confused was an understatement. Not only had you inadvertently revealed more about yourself than you'd learned from him in an attempt to get him to open up, your kind-of acquaintance had also simply up and left in the middle of your conversation. Haechan kept to his word of talking more to you, though, as he'd come to find you whenever his assigned knight (who'd been switched to someone nicer after the incident) gave him a break. Over time you'd managed to find out more about him; that he was born and raised a noble, but had always wanted to be a knight, so had begun his squire training this year in the palace -- it was why you'd never seen him before then, that he  was actually a lot like you but a little more ("A lot," "Shut up, Y/N!") sharper-tongued. He liked to express himself through jokes and humour, which was a plus as all the time you spent  shedding tears of laughter helped take your mind off of Jeno's departure. Like you, Haechan liked to talk about anything and everything-- sometimes this led to irritation between the two of you because you both always had something important to say and you were both the only people who'd listen -- but you liked hearing what he'd talk about as you knew you'd learn something new from him every time. You meet your second new friend at your 13th birthday ball, something you vehemently opposed the second you heard the idea…except you didn't hear the idea, you were just told it was happening 2 hours before it was supposed to start. To make matters worse, you didn't even have the energy or the time to try and sabotage it given the fact that your parents had someone watching over you at all times, be it a handmaid, a guard, a servant; practically anyone your parents could get their hands on. The ball itself wasn't even that bad, even though you'd never say that out loud. The ballroom was decorated to look like the sun your people worshipped so much; fabrics of yellow and gold were draped across the room in every hue; tables were filled to the brim with fruits, confectionery, and other foods you couldn't pronounce the name of. Musicians were seated in the corner of the room, playing pieces you recognised from your lessons but never really remembered all that well. Did you appreciate the effort? Yes. Did you care for it all, though? Absolutely not. To make matters worse, there was no sign of your current confidant, Haechan, anywhere -- the whole place seemed to have been populated with the same noble children you hated and their equally as annoying parents. Leaving clearly wasn't an option, given the servant currently offering drinks was doing a really bad job at subtly watching you from their position within the group of noble parents. Sighing, you left the buffet table and all of its tasty comforts to explore the floor, taking great care to avoid the group of obnoxious 13 year olds in the centre of the room.  

You'd be lying if you said you discovered some amazing secret that would change your life forever in between the designated tables and their vases filled with flowers, the overwhelmingly sweet smell of which was beginning to give you more than a headache. Almost the entirety of the ballroom was the same no matter where you went-- the same old stuffy adults in one corner, the  same stuffy disrespectful kids your age in another, the member of staff assigned to you changing every quarter of an hour the only constant, ironically. If anything, you'd say the only thing you'd discovered during the increasingly painful amount of time you'd been here was the fact that you hated birthday balls, and you would be all too happy if someone told you you never had to have one again. Uncaring for whoever it was that was watching you this time, you storm towards the exit, a scowl marring your features. Someone's arm slinging itself over your shoulder and a slightly terrified whisper of "Keep walking, please," spurs you on for the moment, but when you successfully get out of the ballroom (to your own surprise), you fling the arm off your shoulder, stop walking and whirl to face your temporary escapee. Judging by the boyish timbre of his voice earlier, you'd expected someone a little different than whatever the kid currently sheepishly grinning at you was. He was dressed in robes that looked like they'd come from somewhere far away; his face was both adorable and yet belied almost the same air of mischief you'd noticed around Haechan upon your first meeting with him, but there was something different about this one. Unconsciously, your eyes narrowed as you studied him some more, failing to notice the fact that his previous grin had dropped, been replaced by a concerned gaze. You also failed to notice that his mouth had been moving for quite some time now; it's his hand, again on your shoulder, that breaks you out of your trance. "Hello? Are you okay?" He shakes you slightly and you nod before he can cause too much of a fuss. This time, you didn't really care to know who the unnamed boy was or why he'd even snuck out with you in the first place, thoughts of finding Haechan and ranting to him the at the forefront of your mind, but the boy decided to tell you anyway. You'd begun walking, hoping he'd get the hint that you had somewhere to be, but he simply fell into step beside you, continuing his life story. When you bothered to tune in, your mind still set on finding Haechan, and giving little hums here and there to at least give off the vibe you were listening to your unwanted guest, you'd found out a multitude of things. One, that he'd come from the Eastern continent, somewhere you'd only read about in the few books you liked reading, and that he was rich enough to practically be royalty. Two, that the succession crisis over there and the accession of the new ruler caused his family to move to the southern isles to avoid persecution. Three, that his parents own a "nice restaurant in town. You should visit sometime!" Oh, and four. The kid just wouldn't shut up. But you could've guessed that from the moment he started talking anyway. You also found out he was younger than you  "Wait," you're cut off by Haechan, eyes widened in recognition. "You're Zhong Chenle? That kid with the huge house?" You look over to Chenle, analysing his reaction "It's not that huge, I mean--" Haechan cuts him off again, and you tune out of the conversation as soon as they start talking about Chenle's apparent neighborhood popularity. You never do find out why Chenle wanted to leave that party so badly, and the thought of asking always slips your mind. What you do know, is that you see Chenle around a lot more often, but that's only cause after trying some of his mom's restaurant's food you haven't been able to stop making orders to the palace for it. There had to be something in that braised beef of hers that made it so addictive, and Chenle delivering it was a plus, cause it meant the three of you could talk and do whatever for as long as you wanted. So you had friends, at long last. The three of you grow up and mature together, Chenle, offering knowledge far beyond his years despite him being the youngest of the three of you, Haechan, getting a lot better at holding his tongue and being less mischievous, and you, though still a little rebellious at times, have managed to ultimately, tone it down. You still stress out your tutor, Taeyong though-- every time you trick him into letting you go early from your lessons and he finds you in the midst of climbing some tree with Chenle, or beginning to mount a horse with Haechan when you really should be studying he swears he loses more and more years off his life. You're less outspoken, more articulate when you speak; You choose your battles more carefully now, instead of blowing up whenever you disagree with someone -- by around a year or so, and called Chenle. During the course of your one sided conversation, punctuated by monotonous hums of agreement from you here and there, you found yourself in front of Haechan's quarters at long last. Unsurprisingly, Chenle followed after you, even as you opened the door to find him half dressed. "Oh my-- Do you know how much I hate it when you do that!?" Startled, Haechan drops to a crouch, trying to salvage some modesty. "You're acting like I haven't seen it before," you sigh, dragging your tired feet over to his bed, flinging yourself down onto it and closing your eyes. Pulling his tunic over his shorts, dragging a palm down his face, he snaps, "That's when it's just you, idiot," he nods at Chenle to come further in (the poor boy had been awkwardly standing in the doorway throughout your exchange,) "At least let me know if you're going to bring guests." He whines, sitting directly on your stomach, using as much force as possible. "Haechan you-- Ow!" You wheeze, the breath knocked out of you. Struggling against the fabrics of your dress, you finally manage to shove him off, kicking him in the process, and not missing the red tinge to Chenle's face and his extremely poor attempt at hiding his laughter. You look to Haechan, glaring, and see him smirking back at you; you make a note to beat him up properly for it later. You take a deep breath, willing your annoyance away, and introduce the two. "Haechan, this is Chenle, Chenle, this is--"  that doesn't mean you don't still rip people to shreds if they have a wrong opinion, though (Your parents are still apologising to the western continent's representative after you cursed him out over his 'inflammatory comments', ( "He said women were inferior beings and that it was amazing I could read, given my smaller brain, mother!" "I don't care what he said, Y/N. he is a guest of ours and you will respect his beliefs!" "….") Jeno, while back home, matured as well. He chilled out (he's still a little weird, but only around his friends) in the sense that he's kind to everyone, respectful to everyone, the epitome of the perfect prince; because he has to be. His parents were stricter than yours were, exponentially so due to the growing threat of the northern continent. And although he finds the continuous prim and proper prince act a little tiring at times, and wishes he could be himself (A goofy, weird, sometimes airheaded, huge cat-lover) all the time, he knows his parents would never allow it ( "That's not how a prince should behave, Jeno."). As a result,  he's secretly irritated a lot of the time, anger bubbling beneath the surface. No-one would ever know, though; he's just that good at hiding it (Until, of course, he meets you again 6 years later and snaps at you by accident). As the years went past, you'd never really forgotten Jeno; in fact, you still thought of him from time to time-- but it was a lot less than when he first left. You'd first exchanged letters every week, but as time passed and the two of you became busier and busier, him with his preparations to be king and you with your own preparations to take over, the letters went from weekly, to monthly, to barely any at all. Sometimes he'd cross your mind and you'd wonder how he was doing, what he looked like, whether he'd grown even taller, if he was still the same old giggly boy you'd dragged around the palace 6 years ago -- but then Chenle or Haechan would be doing something that you just had to see -- and the thought would be gone. You didn't think Jeno would be returning to your corner of the southern isles any time soon, anyway. Life on the southern mainland, for Jeno, at least was hopelessly, mind-numbingly, boring. Those 4 years he'd spent in the southern isles had gone too fast for him, for now he was stuck back with his controlling parents that never let him just be, and it only got a little better the older he got. Jeno had returned home, to his bland room with its white walls and paintings of old men the only decoration his parents would allow. He'd been practically thrown in the deep end when it came to his royal duties; he was supposed to greet this lady, bow to this lord, smile at this diplomat, pretend, pretend, pretend -- because emotions were never becoming of a prince, of a 'future king'. He'd come to hate those 2 words in coming years. -- Seoyoung was the closest thing to a replacement version of you that Jeno could get. It had been a year since he'd forced himself back into the perfect box his parents had always  pressured him to fit into, a year since his unwanted goodbye to freedom and the Southern Isles. The letters exchanged with you had slowly but surely died out, and being left with your own company in a palace as big as the one he lived in was like his own personal hell. Being forced to be a certain way all the time, never being allowed to truly express emotion, along with a clear lack of understanding from his already closed off parents had led to him slipping away from the high walls of the palace and out into the bustle of the local towns beyond. It was there, after running away from some moody teenagers he'd unwittingly bumped into, hiding in the nearest open door available to him, that he'd met her. "Hey!" Jeno whips round, chest still heaving, back pressed into the wooden ridges of the door he'd just shut. "Who the hell are you," she growls, advancing towards him with a pan that looked more and more threatening by the second, "And what are you doing in my house?" Soon enough,  he can feel the cool edge of the pan pressed into his neck, and, grimacing, he pleads, "Please, please don't kill me," and he hates how he very loudly whimpers as the girl presses the pan deeper. Her laugh, a tiny giggle that sounds like addictive music to his ears, changes the mood. “Relax,” she snickers, a sly tear coming out of her eye, “I’m not gonna kill you! What kind of person do you think I am?” She’s thrown her head back now, laughing louder, and Jeno can’t find it in himself to get angry. “I wouldn’t know?” he probes, "We just met, so.." Jeno peels himself off the door, standing awkwardly as the girl drags a chair, flinging herself onto it. Rubbing her eyes, trying to calm down, she asks, "Seriously. Why are you in my house." "Oh, I just, like, bumped into the wrong group of people.... I guess I got on their bad side, cause they chased me through town. This was the nearest open door to hide." She starts laughing again, and Jeno's confused once more. His explanation wasn't *that* funny, was it?  And the longer she laughed, the more he was beginning to suspect Seoyo was laughing *at* him, not at what he said. He didn't know how that made him feel, but it wasn't good. "I can't believe," she wheezes, "You got chased...by Minho's gang!" she sputters. "Are you new here or something? Everyone knows Minho and his crew are a bunch of boneheads, they were probably just playing with you," Upon reflection, perhaps the smiles those 'moody teenagers' were sporting as they followed him were less menacing and more...welcoming. But he wasn't going to take his chances either way. "So what if I am new here?" He retorts, "They didn't look very friendly when they starting running after me down the street!" She looks at him for a long moment, before mocking his words and laughing again. "Hey!"  he snaps, but his voice breaks as he says it and it sounds more like a childish whine.

Pushing herself off the chair, she begins rummaging through cupboards and drawers, pulling out various ingredients as she goes. "You must be hungry," she snickers, but she can tell that any more of her incessant mockery would genuinely offend him, so keeps it to a minimum. "Sit down, and I'll make you something to eat." Tentatively, Jeno sits at the table, round, chipped at the edges, and worn from years of use. An aroma soon fills the air, drifting to his nose. Whatever it was, it smelled better than any of the stuff from the palace kitchens- and when she placed the bowl of soup and vegetables in front of him, it tasted much better, too. "So, where are you from?" He chokes on a carrot. "You said you moved here recently, right? Where from?" Now, it was at this point where Jeno hated the fact that he was never that great at lying, because he now needed to come up with a believable backstory and actually stick to it without giving  himself away as the freaking crown prince, for goodness sake. "An island." He states, and hopes she'll be satisfied with that.

"Near the, uh," he downs a spoonful of soup to buy thinking time, "the Southern Isles?" Sounding confused was definitely not going to look believable, but he still prayed to all the gods in the universe, even the ones he didn't believe in, to help him out here. Just this once.  "Okay," she sounds suspicious, he notices, but he's thankful enough she doesn't press further and leaves the thought at that. "I'm Seoyoung," and Jeno inwardly screams as he knows what question is coming next, "What's your name?" What was his name? Meaning, what was his fake name going to be? Like an idiot, he almost gives himself away, "I'm Jen-- Jen. Yeah, Jen." He can practically feel the disbelief in her expression, and quickly goes back to the soup to avoid her gaze. "What about your surname?" 'Are you serious?' Is what he wants to say, but plays along for the sake of hiding his identity. "Uh," he notices the material of the table, and blurts out a "Wood. Jen Wood."

"So your name is Jen...Wood." "Yes." She sighs, gets up to wash her own bowl, and shakes her head. "I didn't think you'd lie for that long." Yeah, he's busted. "I know you're the prince, by the way. Nobody eats soup with a spoon around here unless they're a noble, and you gave yourself away when you basically said your name, Prince Jeno."

His shoulders sag, half in relief, and half in an apathetic resignation to the fact that now that she knew who he was, so would everyone else. And then word would reach his parents that he'd snuck out of the palace and he'd have to say goodbye to any sliver of a chance at freedom until he either ascended the throne or died before then.  "Do you think, you could, like, maybe, not tell anyone?" Being unsure of yourself and not even putting up a fight was not how his mother had taught him to negotiate, but desperate times called for desperate measures. "Please?" He begs. "I won't say a word. In fact, you were never here," Oh, yes! Freedom was still a possibility- "On one condition." Never mind. "You keep coming here. To see me." Honestly speaking, there was no true reason why Jeno would have to go see Seoyoung on a regular basis, aside from avoiding the wrath of his parents, but even so, hanging out with her more often seemed like an attractive concept on its own. So he agreed. "It's a deal," and it was. From that point on, Seoyoung became his, well, your, replacement. He finally had a friend he could pour out his emotions to, one that wasn't handpicked by his parents to make worthwhile connections with, who he could be the same Jeno from the Southern Isles with, not the uptight prince from the Mainland. The addition of Jaemin, the son of rich merchants who sometimes made Jeno question why he was a prince when Jaemin seemed so much better suited, and Renjun, a noble who understood Jeno's struggles even if he was a little too blunt for his liking,  altogether made Jeno, for the first time in a long time, feel at home in his own home. And so life continued like that; going out with Jaemin and Renjun to meet with Seoyoung. Games of tag and hide and seek in the woods soon turned into intense chess battles, mock swordfights, in depth discussions about literature, learning more about the subjects Jeno would soon rule over - there wasn't a single way life could get any better. It's the end of a day spent just with Seoyoung for Jeno. They're sat in their usual spot, across from each other on the same wooden table they had their first meeting on. A candle, mid-burnt, sits in the middle, its wavering light hitting all the right points on her face. Her eyes, a warm brown, are illuminated, her hair, a deep burgundy, looking so silken Jeno's afraid to even breathe in its direction so as not to disturb it, and the curve of her lips, forever locked in a halfway point between the smirk he's grown to love so much and a simple pout, look more appealing now than they ever have done. Locking eyes with her, he moves the candle to one side and leans in, asking for consent. There's a nod of her head and a coy wink and suddenly his lips are on hers and it feels so, so amazing- and then she pushes him away.

"You're a prince, Jeno. We can't do this," she whispers. "What if someone sees you?" He looks at her for a long moment, throwing all thoughts of you out of his mind. Who knew when he'd see you again anyways?  "I don't care," he grins, "I'm here with you now, and that's all that matters." He leaves Seoyoung's house that night with swollen lips and a heart so light it could float off into the distance and Jeno wouldn't even notice. He arrives home, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide, parading around his chambers like a lovesick fool, when he sees it. Sealed with the usual blue wax stamp of his parents, resting on his desk, lies an envelope. Tentatively, he opens it, skim reading the contents until he finds the sentence that shocks him so much he has to read it twice: 'You shall be returning to the Southern Isles within the next 3 days. Prepare accordingly.' After removing all thoughts of you from his mind, the memories he has with you return like opened floodgates. The heaviest thing on his mind is how to tell you about  Seoyoung- the right thing, the noble thing to do would be to break up with her - but that would break her heart, and telling you about her would break yours. He could always not say anything and spare both of you the pain...Yes. Yes, he could do that. He was going to do that. -- When you got the news that Jeno would be returning to your kingdom, you were, not to sound like a cheesy young adult novel or anything, beside yourself with excitement. You'd rushed to your chambers upon hearing the news, penning letter after letter while also throwing letter after letter away,  just until you could find exactly the right words to greet him with. When you received your first letter back from him - your first letter back from him in a long time - you could practically feel through his familiar and yet different messy scrawl just how much he'd changed. Personality wise, that was. You had to admit that the only image you had of Jeno was the bright eyed, quiet little 12 year old you'd waved goodbye to 6 years prior, so you'd envisioned that image when writing to him. When you formally greeted him in the throne room of your palace,  though, you were most definitely surprised, to say the least. 

Gone was the Jeno whose height you'd always make fun of - now he was taller, had grown into his features - which had gone from rounded cheeks and a soft profile to harsher lines, a defined jawline and an aura that gave off the feeling that he was now more royal than anything else.  He was lean yet built, his previous bowl cut, now changed into straight black locks, strands of which fell across his forehead in the best way you could imagine. You were sure that if you looked up the definition of 'prince' in a dictionary, a picture of Lee Jeno would be right beneath it. The fact that you were betrothed to him had never been an important aspect of your thoughts, never something you even deigned to think about, but when he looked like that, you were beginning to enjoy the prospect of seeing him every day in your near future. You walk up to him and curtsey, trying your best to fight the grin arising on your face. "Your Highness," you breathe, eyes sparkling. "Princess," he nods, one corner of his mouth turning up into a half smile, while you try your hardest to ignore the sudden increase in your heart rate. His eyes, a warm chocolate brown, were so intoxicating  could stare into them forever, and for what felt like it, you did. You took a step forward, but a quick eyebrow raise from Jeno and a nudge to your side by your mother soon reminds you of your apparent duties as a host, guiding your betrothed to his rooms being one of them. On the way there, you ask him as many questions as you can; how he's been, what he's been up to, what friends he made - but his answers are all short sentences and one worded, a haughty mix of 'yeses', 'no's' and 'I don't know's'. Sneaking a sideways glance at him, you wondered when he'd become so closed off. His expression looks downcast and yet apathetic; like he'd rather be anywhere else than here. You ask him if he received your last letter, and he barely replies with anything more than a noncommittal "Mm." The walk continues, silent and uncomfortable, and when you do finally arrive at his chambers he storms in without a thanks or a goodbye. You're left confused, unsettled, and more than a little hurt. After all, this was supposed to be 2 best friends reuniting at last, not two strangers meeting for the first time. Dinner goes worse.  Multiple times you try to make conversation and multiple times he letter away,  just until you could find exactly the right words to greet him with. When you received your first letter back from him - your first letter back from him in a long time - you could practically feel through his familiar and yet different messy scrawl just how much he'd changed. Personality wise, that was. You had to admit that the only image you had of Jeno was the bright eyed, quiet little 12 year old you'd waved goodbye to 6 years prior, so you'd envisioned that image when writing to him. When you formally greeted him in the throne room of your palace,  though, you were most definitely surprised, to say the least.  completely ignores you. You look at your parents, who are engaged in their own conversation, and you roll your eyes - at how oblivious they are not to notice their own 'son-in-law's actions, and how frustrated you are at said son-in-law as well. You go to sleep that night even more confused, and you wake up disgruntled and unimpressed. At breakfast, you attempt to make eye contact with him sat directly across from you only for him to, again, blatantly ignore you. Clearly irritated, you stab at your food, making your emotions (however childish) known. "Y/N, do you have something to say?" Your intense eating caught the attention of your parents, while the one person's attention you wanted was still engrossed in his meal. Great. "No, Father. Just hungry." You try your best to control your tone, not in the mood for another lecture about your attitude at dinner. While they had become less frequent over the years as you matured, times like these, where your temper got the best of you, still arose. "It doesn't look as though you are just hungry. What have I told you about your attitude when eating, Y/N?" ...This couldn't be serious. Much to your distaste, your mother decides to join the conversation, "You should really try to be a little more considerate, Y/N. It's not polite to be so... aggressive around your betrothed." Knowing your mother to be the more relaxed one of your parents, it's hard to say you don't feel a little betrayed at her taking your father's side. Luckily, your father changes the subject and you hold back sighing in relief. "Speaking of aggression, have you heard about the Northern Empire's movements lately?" "Ah- yes, I did hear from one of my advisers - their leader is claiming one of the western border towns as their own - troops are already stationed there, apparently," You look between your parents as your mother shakes her head, running her fingers through her perfectly styled hair, the crease in your father's brow deepening as he frowns in worry. "It seems the the threat of the Northern Empire is manifesting sooner than we thought, dear." The Empire's occupation of the Western border towns meant it would only be a matter of time before they invaded the Southern Mainland, and soon enough the Isles - bad news for you, and even worse for Jeno. "The question is now, what to do before we find them at our doorstep - Y/N, what are your thoughts?" You clear your throat before speaking. "Wouldn't the obvious thing be to send diplomats to work out a deal, but prepare troops at home for when they do arrive?" It made sense in your mind; you had the best of both worlds - peaceful talks with protection if worst came to worst.  Your father shakes his head, pursing his lips. "That would take money, resources, and most importantly, time." Looking towards you, he adds, "Time we don't have!" For emphasis. Your lips curl, annoyed at his blatant shutdown of what you thought was a great plan, but school your features into neutrality when he glares at you briefly. "What do you think, Jeno? This is a matter that concerns you the most, after all." Your ears prick up at the mention  of his name, mildly intrigued to hear his take - if he even bothered to reply. "I actually agree with Y/N," he says. You hear your mother squeal in joy and fight to keep the cringe off your face. "Darling, how cute," she whispers, "Husband and wife agreeing with each other!" Your father coos along with her, while you look on, unimpressed. You look across to see Jeno blush, and are pleasantly surprised to see that even after 6 years, he still blushes just the same as he used to -- eyes cast down, lips turned up in a shy smile, hand reaching to run through his hair before it stops mid air and falls down again, anxious not to ruin it. Breakfast finishes with no further interruption- that is, until your parents stop the two of you as you're leaving to recommend (read: force) you both to take a walk through the gardens to see how things have changed. -- He's ignoring you. Again. Why you thought there'd be a sudden change in the pattern of Jeno blatantly blindsiding you every time you were alone was beyond you, but the feeling doesn't get any less uncomfortable every time he does it. Having had enough, you pull to one side, the force almost throwing the two of you off balance and into some bushes, but you ask - no, demand - just what exactly his problem is, and his reply isn't what you expect. "I don't have a problem, Y/N." Oh, please. "Someone who doesn't have a problem wouldn't pretend their childhood friend doesn't exist after not seeing them for 6 years, Jano," You hiss, "So I'll ask again. What is your problem with me? What have I done?" You hate the pleading lilt that infects the tone of your voice in the second question, and you hate that you can't help it when he still looks so stoic. His expression breaks though, shoulders sagging for what you notice is the first time since his arrival, a defeated sigh leaving his lips. "You didn’t do anything, Y/N,". "I- I guess I'm just used to acting a certain way back home-- it's hard to adjust," "You were never like this before," "That was then. This is now."

You felt a sense of regret at not sending more letters after Jeno left - as his best friend, you should've done more to let him confide in you. Then, at least, you wouldn't have this uneasy feeling in your chest that you needed to get to know him all over again. "Sorry, though." He continues, "For acting so cold towards you - I guess I was taking out my frustration at always having to be a certain way out on you - you didn't deserve that." "I know we haven't really spoken for a long while, but I'm still your best friend. You can tell me anything." There's a look shared between you both, and you get the feeling that Jeno understands. "You're in my kingdom, now, not yours. Things are different here, remember?" You tease, lightly nudging him with your elbow. The two of you chuckle at that and continue walking, simultaneously falling into step and into the easy, free flowing conversation you'd wanted to have since he'd arrived, It's dotted with reminiscing and head thrown back laughs at old inside jokes - and it's finally like nothing had changed. You listen in rapt wonder as he goes into depth about the adventures him and 2 other boys named Jaemin and Renjun go on, you smile in adoration as he describes his 3 favourite cats he's forced to keep in the servants quarters due to his allergies and the wrath of his parents if they discovered 'vermin' in the palace, as they described it, and you heave a sigh of nostalgia as he complains about not being able to have intense flour battles in the palace kitchens in the early hours of the morning, like the 2 of you used to, when he was here. He listens in content as you tell him about the situations that led you to meet Chenle and Haechan, as you giggle to yourself while describing them, watches the way your expression lights up as you tell him about all the new hobbies you'd picked up, the new places you'd discovered and had quickly marked as yours, and jumps as you grab his wrist and drag him along, through winding paths and bushes of flowers sculpted into arches, into an open spot, surrounded by flora. The vibrance of them almost blinds him, their beauty enough to render anyone speechless. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" You smile at him, pleased at the astonished look in his eyes. "I come here when I want to relax," you continue, understanding his silence. "It's amazing," he breathes, before looking at you with a smile so bright it throws you a little. When you grab his wrist a second time to lead him to other places, the slip of his hand into yours doesn't go unnoticed. -- Jeno was only meant to be staying for a few months this time before it was your turn to visit his lands for the impending wedding. The past 2 months of his stay, although awkward at first, had been just like old times, with the exception of various instances that were more reminiscent of a couple and less of 2 best friends. 

It was one instance in particular, though, that signified a shift in the air between the two of you. It was humid in the city - the air hot and sticky and the typical royal wear the two of you wore, although thin, seemed to exacerbate the uncomfortable feeling that dominated you both. You'd been sent on an outing through the town to greet the people and make a good impression, as your father had put it, for once leaving his study to speak to the both of you. The humidity you felt wasn't just because of the weather, though - for the entirety of your walk, every face you smiled at, every conversation you made, every cat you'd be forced to stop and pet - Jeno's hand had been firmly clasped in yours. The only time you were apart was when Jeno had left to 'get something'. What it was, you didn't know. Walls painted a pure white to reflect as much sunlight as possible, Shelves around the shop filled with touches of domesticity - a picture here, a souvenir there - and the slightly irritating smell of the flowers, displayed around the room in bouquets of varying sizes are what welcomed Jeno as he stepped into the flower shop. The florist, a middle aged lady with a twinkle in her eye and a knowing smile, waves as Jeno walks in, him nodding in return as the two make small conversation before she turns to work. "Take good care of her," she calls, busying herself with various bits and bobs here and there, shaking Jeno out of his brief gaze around the store. "I swear to," He replies, running his fingers over the petals of the various bouquets. "Are you sure? The people would have your head if you didn't." He turns to face the florist. Her back is towards him, but her tone of voice commands his attention. It's a beat too long before he replies. "Of course I'm sure!" He smiles, as wide as his cheeks sill let him - the florist turns to face him, her expression mimicking his. He hopes her eyes, seemingly searching for something in his gaze, don't notice the guilty pang in his chest. She seems satisfied with whatever she finds there, breaking the stare and taking a weight off Jeno's shoulders as a result. Busying herself compiling flowers together,  a bouquet, she speaks again. "Y/N..." she begins  forming a bouquet , picking flowers here and there to add to it. "She's like a beacon to us, you know? She's our princess," the florist pauses for a second, looking nostalgic. "When she was born, the country celebrated for 3 days and nights. I still remember it like it was yesterday." He can see her eyes getting glassy, and he hesitates whether he should make an effort to comfort her or leave her alone. He chooses the latter. "And now... now she's all grown up! Betrothed, to be married! So take care of her," she leans forward, near-pleading. The bouquet is done, and she hands it to him. "I- I will. I promise," Jeno declares, his clasp on the bouquet tightening with his words. The guilty pang returns as he leaves, and increases in intensity as you come into view.  The promise he made in there sounded as real as ever - because he'd forgotten about Seoyoung for a second. The closer he got to you, however, the better he saw your eyes light up at his presence, your features breaking into a relieved smile, widening further once you noticed the bouquet in his hands, the clearer it became that he was playing you for a damned fool. -- There's a comfortable silence in your carriage home. Feeling tired from walking around so much, you find your head leaning towards, and then resting on, Jeno's shoulder. It was less than comfortable considering the texture of the road caused your head to bump his shoulder a little too hard every now and again, but you didn't mind. He calls your name, breaking the quiet. "Y/N." You grunt a reply, flitting in and out of consciousness. "Y/N," he calls again, a whine to his voice this time. You grunt again, wanting to stay in your reverie just a little longer. "Y/N~" You look up at him, exasperated. "What?"  You cry out, before his lips are on yours and then suddenly gone. It was a quick peck, a mere meeting of the lips, for lack of a better phrase.  Short, sweet, but oh-so meaningful. He says nothing for the rest of the ride, but the strawberry flush across his cheeks tells you everything you wanted to know anyway. Yes, Jeno kissed you - just to get his mind off Seoyoung. But the heat he felt bloom across his face and the sharp increase in his pulse made him question if his feelings for Seoyoung were as intense as he thought they were if just one kiss with you made him feel this way.

-- You have to hide the obvious shock in your expression when he starts sitting next to you at breakfast the next morning. "Jeno." "Hm?" "What are you- Why are you here. On this side." "Am I not allowed to sit next to you?" "No, it's just- never mind." You have to hide the embarrassment when he asks himself when you'd become so breathtaking loud enough for you to hear. "You're so beautiful,"  He breathes. He's sitting a table away from you, in the palace library. "What? What did you say?"    "Nothing! Nothing," You have to force yourself not to bury your head in the nearest pillow, fabric, hell, cloth - when he starts sneaking kisses from you at every opportunity. "Y/N, my leg hurts." He's draped himself over the chaise longue in your chambers, preferring to spend most of his time there rather than anywhere else. You’re stood over him, hands on your hips. You found his presence a welcome occurrence, happy to get closer with him. "...Okay, let's go to the infirmary together. I'll walk you," "No, no! Not the infirmary." You frown, suspicious. "I think I need a different kind of treatment..." He looks at you expectantly, batting his lashes. "I don't understand." You hear him grumble under his breath, before his hand snakes around your waist and drags you so close your nose s are touching. "Do you understand now?" He whispers, eyes locking yours into place. His lips brush yours, still holding that gaze, and you almost lose the strength to stand as he kisses you properly, smoothly, before pulling away with a cursed wink. You start as a servant bursts through the doors, chest heaving, running towards Jeno and pressing an envelope, sealed with the familiar blue wax stamp of his kingdom, into his hands before running right back out again. The two of you share a look, then focus on the letter as Jeno opens the envelope and you lean over to read it's contents. The Northern Empire has invaded. Return at once. Concise. Clear. Just like the king and queen of the Southern Mainland. At the news, he immediately turns to leave your room, you following, but struggling to keep up. "Where are you going?" he asks. "I'm coming with you, obviously," you say, a little breathless. You stumble, bumping into him as he abruptly stops. "No, you're not," he says, looking confused. "Yes, I am," you reply, daring him to challenge you on the matter. "If you think I'm going to let you put your life at risk-" "I won't be putting anything at risk, because we'll be together." You caress his jaw, a thumb rubbing circles onto the skin. "I can't protect you all the time. You're safer here," he presses, frowning in worry. "Stay," he begs. "Please?" You take a deep breath, looking directly at him. "Jeno. I'm going with you." You shake your head at his open mouth, stopping him from saying the words he so desperately wants to say. "We're going," your hands move to his shoulders, squeezing them lightly, "to solve this, together. Because that's what a future king," you say, raising your eyebrows at him for emphasis, " and queen do." You continue, still holding his gaze. "And as my future husband," Neither of you can deny the increase in the pace of your hearts at that phrase, "You should have faith in me to defend myself. Okay?"  He releases a breath through his nose, eyes fluttering shut in frustration. "Okay," He whispers. "Okay." He says, louder, as if confirming something within himself. -- The first thing you noticed when you stepped off the boat was how fundamentally different everything was. Where the Isles had streets, although a little less than clean, filled with housing that never looked alike, due to the owners having free reign in how they built it, the Mainland had rows upon rows of identical houses, streets so pristine the suns rays practically reflected off of them. Where the Isles had a mixture of well established shops and stalls that the city's residents would set up and put away each working day, the Mainland had stores  on every corner. The whole city was organised, like everything and everyone had a place to be. It was mesmerising, to say the least. The palace, and its inhabitants, gave ample reason as to why the city looked the way it did. Matching the overall aesthetic of the city, the Mainland Palace was tall, angular in shape, with white, grey, and blue dominating the overall colour scheme - not a hair out of place - a stark contrast to the golds and greens of the palace back home. The people, especially Jeno's parents, were exactly as Jeno had described in the short months you'd  been together and gotten to know each other even better than you did as kids - uptight, stiff, and closed off, even more so now there were northern empire troops; the same troops your parents had betrothed the two of you together to avoid, now stationed further out in the country. You didn’t know whether to feel offended or not when they simply nodded in return to your greeting of them, but an explanation from Jeno as he guided you to your chambers soon let you know that the nodding were his parents actually being nice, for once. Your heart sank as you wondered if this was the kind of atmosphere Jeno had to deal with when he’d returned here 6 years ago, and how he’d even managed to survive it that long. “I know what you’re thinking,” he states, a smirk in his voice. He’s looking directly ahead, but he sensed the change in your mood the second you went silent. You look at him, studying his profile, the same profile you adored looking at so much; studying the length of his eyelashes, the slight to-and-fro sway of his fringe, the natural pout of his lips, and wonder again how a boy so perfect could’ve been subjected to somewhere like this. A place that looked perfect, but seemed far from it. “Don’t feel bad for me,” he warns, turning the handle to your chambers as he stops outside of it. “I’m fine now. I have you, don’t I?” you look at him a beat longer, studying his face for any sign of restraint, of sadness, and slump in relief as there is none.  You nod, half-smiling, "Yes. You do," and walk in.

-- It was amazing, you thought, just how fast the Northern Empire had managed to take a quaint little town on the edge of Jeno's kingdom, once filled with the typical repeated angular structure of housing commonly seen in the Mainland, and turn it into a home of their own - every roof of every house was plastered with the angry and intimidating red and black flags of the Empire, a reminder who had control, who would gain more of it if you and Jeno didn't get them out by today. The first thing you noticed, as the two of you trekked up the hill to the Empire's camp, were the fire-lit torches. The smoke they emitted smelled vulgar, the wind that blew never once affected their flame. You could see the opening of the town they'd invaded the closer you came, managed to get a glimpse of a citizen being roughed up by one of the guards, before a figure clothed in red and black, wearing a mask disguising their face, appears. "Royalty," they murmur, their voice travelling along the wind, barely noticeable yet just loud enough to understand. You feel the visible shiver running down your spine, the strangeness to their voice making you uncomfortable. Jeno's clasp on your hand, pulling you backwards behind him doesn't go unnoticed by the figure. "Cute." They chuckle, before lightly beckoning the two of you to follow,  heading further into their camp with an unnatural smoothness to their gait. Jeno tilts his head, sure some notes to that quiet whisper of the stranger's voice were familiar to him, that he'd heard them before - a different time, a different place, perhaps. He's so engrossed in his thoughts he barely notices you dragging him along, trying to keep up with the stranger while simultaneously avoiding the harsh gazes of the Empire's guards stationed everywhere. He bumps into your back, and you stumble as you stop in front of what you assumed to be the captain's tent, the stranger who greeted you at the gates clapping twice outside the flaps before disappearing. Mystery seemed a recurring theme amongst the soldiers of the Northern Empire, all including the Captain, hiding every feature but their gaze with the same red and black mask. Personality wise, the Captain spoke in circles, sometimes cryptic, sometimes misleading - but it was worth it when you and Jeno left the tent with a stamped agreement that would soon get the Northern soldiers out of Jeno's lands. "I'm proud of you, you know."  You're the first to break the silence, beaming at him as you get nearer to the carriage. "You did really well in there - like a king," you add, elbowing him for emphasis. He scoffs and smiles, a slight tinge to his cheeks at the compliment. "I couldn't have done it without you, though," he steps aside to let you board the carriage first, climbing in after you, "Queen," he teases, mimicking your movements from earlier.  The ride back to the castle was uneventful, and neither of you failed to notice the gradual steady slump in each others shoulders the further away you got from the unsettling loom of the Empire's camp.

News of the agreement was music to everyone's' ears - especially those of the rulers of the Southern Mainland. Both you and Jeno have to force your jaws from dropping at the announcement of a ball to celebrate your combined success, but only one of you has to strategically hide his fingers curling into fists, taut with fear at the secret in danger of being revealed from the roving gaze of his parents. -- The palace did not look so different from its usual appearance when sculptures, fountains, and tables you hadn't seen before decorated areas around the ballroom floor. You'd spent the first few minutes of the ball with Jeno; you'd followed with him as he greeted nobles, nodded in his parents direction, and introduced you to his friends, the ones he'd told you about when you were in the humid heat of the Isles, before quickly disappearing off, summoned to his parents side to 'discuss courtly matters,' he'd said.  You had no issue; after all, a peck on the forehead from him was a sufficient goodbye until he found you later. Jeno was right in his description of Na Jaemin; the man was beautiful, truly no other way to describe him - and, for the son of merchants, exuded a royal air far stronger, far more used to, than any other royal you'd met prior. Where Na Jaemin was kind words bordering on a flirt, smiles bright enough to melt the coldest of hearts, Huang Renjun was, despite being born into nobility, as you'd learned, more rough around the edges than anything else. It was a wonder, you'd noted, that the two boys hadn't been switched at birth at some point long ago, given the stark difference in their personalities. A contrast to Jaemin, Renjun was blunt, had jokes that sometimes made you question whether he meant them maliciously or not, but overall carried himself with an adult sort of grace that you'd come to respect in your short conversation with him, before both him and Jaemin had been dragged off to dance with ladies neither of them knew of. Jaemin and Renjun seemed like good people - this you knew - but why did their eyebrows raise, why did a look of surprise - however fleeting - mar their faces as Jeno introduced you to them? It was that thought you pondered on, had your forehead lightly pulsing with pain as your brow became more and more creased the further into thought you went, when you found him. Found Jeno, or his silhouette, at least, dancing with a girl whose features you couldn't quite place. Well, dancing wasn't a crime - you could go and say hello, tell him how you were feeling about the ball, about his friends - in fact you'd even taken around 4 steps towards the two, hope rising in your chest, when you saw it. Jeno's forehead leaning against the girls, the two of them sharing a longing stare you'd never seen directed towards you, as they, in the presence of all on the ballroom floor, like they hadn't a care in the world, kissed. Kissed. There's a heaviness in your body, a visceral pang in your chest; you aren't sure if you can even take another step - but you carried on, pressed on, towards their dreaded spot, determined to confront the liar who had been your betrothed through all these months, weeks, years. The girl is the first to notice your presence, and you try not to get to caught up in the fact that  your own husband to be was so wrapped up in someone else that he couldn't even deign to notice you. "Oh, hi!" She waves. "Are you a friend of Jeno's?" She didn't even know who you were. Of course she wouldn't.  Why would he tell her he was betrothed to marry a girl from a different kingdom and had been for the past decade. You nodded in reply, swallowing to try and get the lump out of your throat. Glancing at Jeno, you noticed how he'd visible stiffness to his posture,  like he'd been caught doing something wrong. The problem was that he had. He had been caught doing something wrong, and that made it worse. Why? Because it confirmed that he knew. The whole time since he'd returned to you, he'd known. You didn't think the pain could get any worse. "Who are you, if I may ask?" You can barely get out more than a choked up whisper. Your eyes heat up as her perfect smile widens. "Oh, I'm Jeno's girlfriend!" Four words. Four excruciatingly painful words. Love was never a familiar concept to you, at least not in the romantic sense, but you felt that you'd begun to learn what it was during your time with Jeno. She introduced herself as Seoyoung. The longer you stood there, forcing yourself to act as though you weren't feeling your heart break into pieces, the more you saw the appeal. An angelic smile, a kind voice with an addictive country twang to it - safe to say it did wonders for your own self confidence. Introducing yourself afterward, you curtsied and left as quickly as you could, trying not to be rude but at the same time not really caring. You brushed past Renjun on the way out, eyes hot with tears, and the pitiful look on his face you saw -  albeit a little blurry - confirmed everything once more. Just how stupid could you be? How stupid did he think you could be? To lead you on, to make you fall for him, to feed you false dreams while he was living them with someone else the entire time? How could he? Not caring about where you went, just that you needed to be alone, opened the first door that seemed unlocked. What a coincidence, then, that the first door you opened led into the room of the last person you wanted to see. Forest green bed sheets, stark white walls, everything organized and in its place.  Vanilla and nutmeg permeated your nostrils-- of course the room would smell like him, it was his room after all. You walked around, finding paintings of him and his family on the walls, papers, organised into neat piles on his desk, a black leather-bound book on his dresser. You had an inkling of what it was, and against your better judgement, you opened it. You read line after line of somewhat mediocre poetry dedicated to Seoyoung, scattered journal entries about Seoyoung, drawings of Seoyoung. Everything was about Seoyoung. And if it wasn't about her, it was about everyone else but you. His parents, his servants, his tutors, his friends-- it was as though you didn't exist. Had you meant anything to him, at all? You hear footsteps, the door opening and closing, and freeze. A hand rests on your shoulder and you whip round, coming face to face with the last person you wanted to see.

"Y/N." he calls, tentative. You have to clench your hands into fists to avoid slapping him across the face. "Can we- Can we talk?" You've never felt more hurt, more saddened, but most of all, embarrassed - the last thing you'd ever want to look like is a fool and yet here he is, someone you thought you could trust more than anyone else, playing you for one. "Why." You reply, cold. As the two of you stand in uncomfortable silence, you begin  to connect the dots. "Because I need to explain. Listen, I-" "Was it a lie?" You cut him off, and Jeno hates how defeated, how quiet you are - like he's made you into a shell of the person you were. "What? Was what a lie?" "The explanation. Was it a lie." It made sense, when you thought about it. He wasn't closed off because of his parents, because of the life he had to lead - he was closed off, blunt, rude, every disrespectful name under the sun; because by not getting close to you, it would make it easier for him to go back to his little girlfriend back home and pretend his little stint with you in the Isles was nothing more than a trip for princely activities, if she ever asked. "No, of course not. I could never lie to you about that, Y/N." You scoff, rolling your eyes. "Oh please." You say, having had enough. "You didn't want me to come here because you were scared I'd see her. You only let me come here because you thought you could somehow keep her a secret, have your fun with her and then come back to me and lie to my face. You didn't leave me to talk to your parents. You left me to go and find her. Because you don't care about me, Jeno. You never did." You push past him at that, heading for the door, ignoring his cries after you. "Y/N, will you just wait! Please," He grabs your wrist, forcing you to a stop. "Jeno." You warn, "I want nothing to do with you." At that, he lets you go, and you storm off, through the hallways into your own room, wincing as you bark at a handmaid to begin packing your things, readying to leave. You were over the Southern Mainland. You just wanted to go home.

A crash and a scream break you out of your sombre mood. Opening the door a sliver, you peek out of your room to see absolute chaos - members of the royal guard shouting and yelling at people to be calm, gentry, nobility, and everyone else running to find an exit in panic, and men you don't recognize in familiar uniforms locked in battle with knights clad in the white and grey of the Southern Mainland. Creaking the door wider, as you watched more and more southern mainland knights fall one by one, you realised why the uniform seemed so familiar; because it belonged to the Empire. They'd disregarded your agreement and come to attack anyway - and there's a sinking feeling at the pit of your stomach as you consider the implications of it.

Opening the door wider, you break into a run, heading back to Jeno's room, despite your mind screaming at you not to. Irrespective of how much you hated him right now though, you needed to know if he was okay - if there was anyway you could both try and fix this mess. You find him before you get there, sword in hand, locked in battle with an Empire knight, and you wish you had a weapon of your own to fight with. There - peeking out amongst the mix of the fallen and injured, you grab a sword from a fallen enemy and slam it's pommel into the head of someone behind Jeno, the thud of their collapse alerting him to your presence. "…You saved me," he says, voice heavy with gratitude. "Don't mention it. Where are your parents?" You demand. "I don't know," he admits, "Haven't seen them since I left the ball." A pregnant silence falls. "…I haven't seen her either, if that's what you were gonna ask." "I wasn't." You grit out, picking up the sword again and swinging at another attacker with it. The knight meets the blow with a shield - he stumbles with the impact, but the blow isn't hard enough as he moves to attack again. This time it's Jeno who saves you, subduing the attacker permanently. He looks at you expectantly, but you brush him off, dropping the sword, and break into a light run, signalling him to come along. "We should keep moving. Find your parents and figure out what to do," He nods. You don't say anything else. He doesn't either. Both your minds are too preoccupied with the growing destruction around you - the yells and battle cries, the groans of pain, the screams of civilians -- it almost gets too much, but you shove those feelings away. You can't afford to be weak right now - you have people to protect damnit and you'd sooner die than let anything get in your way. The two of you check a multitude of places in the palace as you look for Jeno's parents - the ballroom, the study, the library- all empty. Its when you check the throne room, however, that you find what you seek. Surrounded by countless soldiers all bearing the northern empire  emblem, there Jeno's parents knelt, unable to move. Luckily, you hadn't been discovered just yet, but you could tell from the corner of your eye that Jeno was going to ruin it. Digging your nails into his wrist, you shoot him a look - his eyes burn with protest at first, but he submits as you strain your ears to listen in. The voice you do hear, spitting venom, sends a visible chill down Jeno's spine.  The previous bubbly lilt had gone, replaced with a hard, rough growl. Uncomfortable, in disgust, you watched as she kicked, pushed, and laughed at jeno's parents, and you felt Jeno himself shake in anger, ears getting red as he tried to hold it in. Angrier and angrier you felt him become; until he just... stopped shaking. Like a heavy calm overtook him, like he was on the border of extreme anger and extreme apathy. There was no question that you were a hair's breadth away from saying you despised Jeno right about now, but the sight of Seoyoung, someone he obviously trusted, blatantly disrespect his parents made your own blood boil - but so far you'd managed to stay composed. It was only when she asked - no - demanded the king and queen kiss her feet that you broke your silence. "That's enough." Your heart leaps into your throat as you say it, a sliver of regret already entering your mind, and you gulp as she languidly turns to look at you. "Oh? Looks like we have guests." She makes some kind of signal to her guards, you don't know what, but you do know it results in the king and queen being removed from the area, through doors and into a room you don't know the contents of. Your arm begins to ache with how hard you have to grip Jeno to stop him from going any closer to Seoyoung, and it gets worse as he speaks. "Lay a hand on them Seoyoung and I swear-" "-Oh I won't do anything to them," she grins, catlike. "As long as you do something for me." Eyes narrowing, you step back, apprehensive.  Seoyoung looks at Jeno stepping in front of you, hand on his hilt, and laughs - quite familiarly, you note, to the figure that greeted you when you went to the Empire's camp a few weeks prior. "Why so afraid? It's fairly simple…. I should hope." "All you have to do," she continues, voice lowering to an unsettling purr, the contrast to her earlier persona still throwing you off, "Is kneel before your queen," she preens, ascending the steps and positioning herself comfortably on the queen's throne. Jeno grunts in frustration, Seoyoung simply grins in satisfaction. "What is it that you want?" He pleads, strained. As slowly as she sat down, Seoyoung rises, making her way to and around Jeno, her movements serpentine. "Oh, I just want what every young girl wants," she sighs, dreamily, trailing a finger down his arm as she circles the room, "True love and a reckoning, blood, fire, a pony…" She stepped closer, lips brushing his ear, "the precious little crown you're going to inherit."

Eyes aflame with anger you shoved between them, "The people would never accept you as their queen." You spat, and with an unnerving tilt of her head, Seoyoung's gaze met yours, lips curved into a half smile. The next second, as she continued to stare, you saw a flash of something flare up in her gaze. You realised what it was as your legs were suddenly screaming in agony, a sharp pain forcing you to kneel and a dark aura radiated from her. Looking to Jeno for help, you tried to get his attention, only hearing his grunts of pain to tell you he was in the same boat. "With all due respect, darling," she purred, bending to your height, her half smile widening into a complacent simper, "I think they will." She nodded at her guards, and together they left with a flourish, the slam shut of the door you and Jeno had entered through finally allowing the pain to stop. Bodies exhausted, dregs of agony still refusing to leave your bones, you help each other up and set off to find Jeno's parents. The walk is rightfully silent, the clack of your shoes against the floor the only sound permeating the air. You find them, thankfully okay, just unconscious and tied up, and the two of get to work undoing the ties. "We should wake them up," you grunt, back towards Jeno, "Tell them to get somewhere safe." "I think we should leave them here. Let them rest and wake up in their own time." "There are people dying as we speak, Jeno, and you want to leave your parents here? To rest?" "At least I'll know where they are. I can send a guard to stay with them-" "Every guard is in battle with the Empire's forces right now! And if we leave them here, you forget that Seoyoung will know where they are as well." You pinch the bridge of your nose, progress to rubbing a thumb back and forth across your brow. "Do you- do you want her to find them?" Jeno is silent as you turn around, looking directly at him. "Are you working with her?" "Y/N, no. No, I would never do that, ever, not in a million years! You know me, Y/N," You give him a long look, taking a deep breath. "No, Jeno. I don't." A part of you feels like you shouldn't have doubted him that much, but a larger part of you knows you were right. You don't know Jeno. At least, not anymore. Once you get both parents awake, you give a brief summary of what went on and warn them to leave - and they do, albeit sceptically. Jeno's worry shows clear on his face, but you say nothing of it as the both of you continue to go through the palace, trying to find an exit that isn't barred by enemies, avoid Seoyoung and at the very least, find Jaemin and Renjun to regroup with all at the same time. Thankfully, you arrive at the palace courtyard in one piece, and find Jaemin and Renjun messily defending themselves against 4 other knights, who's swords kept dangerously close to Renjun's arm and Jaemin's neck. Exasperated, you huff, find another sword to use, and ram it into the nearest soldier - his choked out groans of pain combined with the coppery tang of his blood as it leaked out was enough to make bile rise in your throat, but you force it back down as you and Jeno join the battle to help take the weight off of Jaemin and Renjun. After subduing all of them, plus some extra who had appeared, the four of you leave the palace courtyard, running continuously until you're sure you're safe, and there's another awkward silence, everyone pointedly avoiding your gaze. You feel Jeno's hand still clasping yours, and shake it off, his touch uncomfortable. "So…where do we go from here?" Jaemin's the first to break the quietude. "We go home," you state. Renjun looks at you and then in the direction of the castle, confused. You huff, rubbing your temples. "My home." -- The four of you board a boat to the Isles early the next morning - after barely getting any sleep in the palace stables you'd had to take refuge in the night before - to avoid detection. You'd had no idea whether the Empire's forces had overrun the whole kingdom yet, and didn't want to take any chances by leaving later on when there was currently a bounty on the heads of those travelling with you. You all arrive home in one piece, and go your separate ways upon arrival; you and Jeno towards the palace, and Jaemin and Renjun towards the city to find a place to stay. You blatantly ignore Jeno for the first few days back -  you return to sitting across from him at breakfast, you barely reply to his questions most times, and generally act  like he doesn't exist. It works - but you know you can't keep it up for long. You conveniently hid the piece of information about Jeno practically cheating on you from your parents,so you knew you couldn't keep ignoring him forever without them noticing at some point and asking questions. It seemed that Jeno had come to this realisation also, as he cornered you in your room on one day that you'd been especially ignoring him, brushing him off whenever he even so much as breathed in your direction. "Jeno, get out of my--" "We need to talk. And I'm not leaving until you hear me out." You folded your arms. "There's nothing to talk about. You led me on, I fell for it, I found out, and now I hate you. What more is there to say?" His face fell. "You really hate me?" You sighed. Of course you didn't. But every time you closed your eyes, you saw the image of him kissing her again - so would it really be such a lie if you said you did? "…Just get out of my room, Jeno." He turned to leave, looking at you one last time, before going, shutting the door behind him as he went. Sighing, you threw yourself back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling, happy to be alone, when the door opened once more. It was Jeno again. "I'm sorry I just--I can't leave without telling you the truth,"

"What truth? That you loved her all along and now that she's shown herself to be some evil villain you think you can just come in here and- and use my feelings as some way to make yourself feel better?" Your voice began to shake, the lump in your throat appeared again, and your eyes watered and you hated that you were crying in front of him, that he'd made you like this because it wasn't fair, Goddamnit.

It wasn't fair that you still hurt so bad, while he didn't seem that hurt at all. If anything he seemed inconvenienced. Inconvenienced that everything had to come out like this. "I'm--I'm sorry, Y/N." His voice was a little rougher, a little choked up, and you could tell he was on the verge of breaking. He sat down at the edge of your bed, placing a hand on yours, tentatively. You don't pull away. "I met Seoyoung a year after I left. My parents didn't tell me when I would see you again; I didn't even think this would happen this soon," You nod, signalling him to continue. "I was lonely, and I found it hard to adjust to the way I used to be when you'd shown me so much more. Nobody but her really understood how I felt. She gave me an escape." A little smile graces his features, and your heart chips at the fact that if you weren't sure he loved you before, you could be certain he didn't love you now. Either way, you were finding this all a little hard to process - some girl he'd barely met when he moved home became his only friend due to his weird relationship with his parents. "I guess I just wanted to live as freely as I could before I was tied down forever." Tied down? Is that really what he thought being married to you would be like? Had he forgotten how close you were as children? "What about the ball," you whisper. "Huh?" his eyes flick over to yours and you meet his gaze. "I said. What about the ball. When I saw you," you struggle to get the final two words out, coming out as a reluctant mumble "….kissing her." He stiffens at that. "I didn't mean to kiss her," You cock a brow, heaving an exaggerated sigh. "Not in there, at least!" "So you meant to kiss her somewhere else? So I'd never find out?" You exclaim, scandalised. "No, no, that's not what I meant-- just listen to me--" "--I am, Jeno. And I'm struggling to see the point." He runs a hand through his hair, trying to find the right words. "I was going to tell her then. That we couldn't be together, that I was betrothed. But she kissed me and I--I don't know. I don't know anymore," "Then why lead me on? Why kiss me, why make me think that you wanted this, why use me?" "Because," he breathes, leaning towards you, "I love you, Y/N. I always have," For a moment you felt as though your heart could explode with joy. Your childhood friend-turned-crush-turned-lover confessing his love for you. If this was a different situation, it would've been everything you'd ever wanted. But you knew better. "Oh, save it. You're just saying that to make me feel better. You don't love me, Jeno. You just think you do." "I meant it, Y/N. I really do love--," You hold up a hand, cutting him off. "You love Seoyoung. Not me. We need to focus on stopping her anyways," The two of you make eye contact, Jeno's intense gaze meeting your stubborn one. Wordlessly, he goes to the door once more, saying one sentence before leaving. "I meant what I said. I'll prove it to you." You knew he didn't,at least you thought so.  You thought you knew him better than anyone and you were clearly wrong about that so maybe, just maybe, you were wrong about this. But you had enough faith in yourself to know you were right. You avoided Jeno for the rest of the day aside from dinner when you absolutely had to be around him, and all through that he'd smile at you and pretend everything was okay. It made you sick to smile back, but you pushed through, determined not to let your parents suspect anything. Events in the Mainland and the issue of trying to protect the Isles already commanded most of their attention - letting them know that the practically lifelong betrothal they'd arranged had gone horribly wrong wasn't something you wanted to disclose just yet. Besides, if staying with Jeno meant the safety of your people, a little sacrifice of your happiness wouldn't be too much of a price to pay, you thought. The knights quarters had always been a second home to you - it was where you first met Haechan, where you made friends with Chenle, where you gave advice, got advice, told stories, played pranks, shared secrets - and now you were going there to share the biggest secret of all. You find Haechan's door, and you're about to enter when you pause. You can hear Chenle's signature laugh, Haechan's teasing lilt; that was fine - but why were Renjun and Jaemin's voices mixed in with them? You wouldn't call yourself childish, and you wouldn't call yourself petty either, but hell, you couldn't care less if people called you those things and more because the idea of Jaemin and Renjun making friends with your best friends made you feel more than slightly ill. Your parents had insisted Renjun and Jaemin stay in the palace once you'd told them all that had happened back on the Mainland - at first you'd been somewhat indifferent about it, but seeing them through the crack of the door - heads thrown back in laughter, eyes turned into crescents from their wide smiles - makes you suddenly wish you hadn't told your parents about them at all. You stand at the doorway, swing the door fully open, and wait for them to notice your presence. It's almost laughable, really, how fast Haechan and Chenle brighten even more when they see you, and how fast Renjun and Jaemin lose the smiles and clear their throats, trying to make a quick exit as Chenle grabs your wrist and drags you further in. "Y/N!" He beams, his smile easing the suffering in your heart a little. "Come sit!" You stand, uncomfortable, as Renjun and Jaemin's eyes are both suddenly pinned to the stone tiles of the floor. The grin slowly falls off of Chenle's face as he notices the cooling of the room's mood. "...Uh, guys?" He says, hoping someone other than him breaks the silence and soon.  "I think we should go," Renjun suggests, sheepish, him and Jaemin both leaving before Chenle can even ask why. Throwing yourself onto Haechan's bed, just like you used to, you let out a defeated sigh. "Something you need to tell me about?" He jokes, lying next to you. "There are many things I need to talk to you about," you reply. "Hey, what about me?" Chenle chimes in, standing over the two of you. "The both of you," you correct, "There are many, many things I need to talk to the both of you about." And so you vent. You tell them everything, from beginning to end, and by the time you're done, it's a struggle trying to get the two of them not to go and give Jeno a piece of their minds. Chenle can do nothing but sink to a crouch, mouth open in disbelief. "I just don't get it," Haechan breathes. "You seemed so close, how could he- do something like that?" He grabs your hands and pulls you into his arms. "Y/N, I'm so sorry." Face half smushed into his chest, half not, you smile to the best of your ability. "It's ok," you mumble, defeated, "Well it isn't, but it's ok as it's going to be. I guess." Haechan's embrace is warm, tight, reassuring. As his hand rubs circles into your back, slightly rocking back and forth, you wonder if life would've been easier if you'd never been betrothed. If you'd somehow, by some weird stroke of fate, fallen for him instead of Jeno. At the very least, the biggest thing you'd have to worry about when marrying Haechan would be getting him to shut up. Being talkative was one of the traits the both of you shared, to a fault. You untangle yourself from him and meet his confused gaze. "Haechan, I need you to promise me something." "Of course." He nods along, wary. "Please, please don't bring this up to him," you wince as you say it because you can feel his judgement. "Y/N, you can't be serious." "Please, Haechan. I don't- I don't really want to hear about my husband cheating on me any more than necessary, you know?" The way your voice trails off in the latter part of that sentence loosens Haechan's resolve. "Fine," he grumbles, folding his arms. Chenle puts an awkward hand on your shoulder - he'd never really been one for physical contact - finally gathering some words to say. "No matter what happens, Y/N, we'll support you." The two of you nod at each other, and for once, the plague of Jeno on your mind is lifted, as you appreciate just how lucky you are to have friends as priceless as these. The reprieve is temporary, though, as two knocks in quick succession and a push at the door reveal Jeno, looking a little more exhausted than the last time you'd seen him. Chenle moves in front of you, and Haechan stands, the both of them stony-faced. "Is it okay if I come in?" Jeno asks, still standing at the threshold of the door. "I don't know," says Haechan. "Is it okay if I let a liar into my room?" You try to get his attention, to tell him to relax, but his focus is firmly fixed onto Jeno. "You can come in," whispers Chenle, and Haechan's head whips round to glare at him in shock. Chenle ignores it, and continues speaking. "Why did you come here?"

"Because," Jeno begins, "Because I wanted to know if I could make things right. If she'd let me." He tries to meet your eyes, and you can feel him looking at you, but you ignore it. He'd done enough damage, and you didn't even want to give him the time of day. Haechan seems to notice this, and speaks for you. "You want to know how to make things right? Get out of here," Jeno's expression goes from hopeful to crushed - you're glad he hasn't noticed you started looking at him. "Stop walking around here as though everything is fine, and go fix the mess in your own kingdom- a kingdom you're supposed to be future king of - before trying to save a marriage you ruined. What kind of king abandons his country in need?" The ire in Haechan's voice is so palpable you've never been more thankful that you weren't on the receiving end of it. There is a long silence after his speech of sorts, and all you hear from Jeno is a simple "Thank you," before he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him. "Before you get all angry at me, you never said I couldn't say anything about him, right Chenle?" Haechan begs, looking back and forth between you and Chenle, looking at you to make sure you don't kill him, and at Chenle for moral support. "He is kind of right there, Y/N." You groan at the both of them, rolling your eyes. -- You couldn't be angry at Haechan - because you agreed with what he said. He was right in what he said to Jeno, which was why you were angry at yourself for  the fact that you were currently chasing Jeno down the hallway, for reasons you'd probably address when you were alone in your room at night - or any other time that wasn't right now. "Jeno!" You call, and chuckle, mirthlessly, at the irony of how it was now you doing the chasing and not him. His hair flutters and settles beautifully as he turns abruptly, and you almost, almost, forget you're supposed to be angry at him when you see the innocent widening of his eyes and slight opening of his mouth as he turns to your calling of his name. You catch up with him, taking a minute to catch your breath, and cursing yourself as you still have trouble comfortably speaking. "I just," you wheeze, "I just wanted to tell you...not to listen to Haechan...he's angry for me," For all that tree climbing you did as a child, it was crazy how you wouldn't be at least somewhat more fit than you were now. "He's right," he replies, and you raise an eyebrow, still trying to catch your breath. "I have a plan - Haechan said I needed to fix things, and I will." Before you can even get out a 'How?', he cuts you off. "Just trust me." He doesn't give you any more information than that, and goes back to borderline running through the hallways, leaving you alone, having caught your breath too late to call after him. -- You're greeted at breakfast the next morning by an empty seat across from you and questions from your parents that you can only make just about believable answers to. A quick search and some asking around leads you to find that Jeno is gone, having only left a note for Jaemin and Renjun notifying them of his departure - meaning if you wanted to know where he'd gone and what he'd gone to do (though you already had a pretty solid idea), you'd have to talk to the two people you most definitely had more of a dislike for than anything else. It's Jaemin who notices you first, unsure of what to do or whether to go as it becomes clear that you're actually approaching the two of them, and not just taking a walk around the palace courtyard. "Y/N," he smiles, and you can tell he's just trying to be polite by the way the smile doesn't reach his eyes and his smile looks more and more like a grimace the longer he holds it. "Is there anything we can help you with?" A corner of your lips quirks a little as Jaemin nudges Renjun to turn around. "Did Jeno tell either of you where he went? I can't find him," Its Renjun who tells you that all Jeno left for them was a note with five words: I'm going to fix it. And with that, your suspicions are confirmed; Jeno had most likely gone back to the Mainland, to 'fix' the problems that plagued it there. However now, and only now, was when you felt angry at Haechan for his outburst a day earlier - because now Jeno was gone, and you still had questions that only he could answer, whether you liked what you would've heard or not. "Um...while you're here," says Renjun, breaking you out of your reverie, "I-" a sharper nudge from Jaemin, one that actually looks painful, causes him to correct himself. "We, wanted to apologise. For the ball. As Jeno's friends, we should've stopped him as soon as it started." You disliked Renjun and Jaemin for their role in the whole Jeno being a cheater debacle, but truth-be-told, you weren't all that angry at them, because they had no real loyalty to you. Jeno was supposed to be your best friend. By principle, he would've been the last person you'd expect to ever betray you. And yet, he did. So you weren't angry at Jaemin and Renjun for siding with their own friend. You felt hurt, by Jeno. "It wasn't your fault." You mutter to the pair of them, before turning to leave. -- It was sickening. Sickening, Jeno thought, how easily he'd let himself be fooled for so long, by someone he trusted so much. As he mounted the steps two at a time into the palace, he wonders if that's how you had felt, when everything had fallen apart just over a week prior. He still felt a pang in his chest every time he pictured the look on your face from that day; hurt, betrayed, disbelieving. As he entered and saw the Empire's flags strewn all over the previously pristine castle interior, he wondered just when he'd lost himself this much. Haechan was right - what kind of king was he? He'd barely any idea of where his parents had gone after that night; if Seoyoung had taken them again, if they were safe; he hadn't even bothered to find a way to check up on his kingdom, which was already beginning to lose its shine and lustre at the occupation draining the life out of its veins. He felt like a waste of a king - no, he was one. But at the very least, the least he could do as a king in its own right was save his kingdom from the invaders that plagued it - he had a plan, and it was going to work. It had to; he had no other choice. Seeing the door of the throne room again brought back memories Jeno didn't really want to think about; it simply reminded him of his own horrible, horrible mistake - but he steeled his resolve and pushed open the door. It's entirely too laughable how Seoyoung is sat in the same place she was when he left - perched on the queen's throne, red hair tied back, and eyes that looked dull and soulless. Was that what he'd allowed himself to fall for? "Jeno!" She croons, beckoning her guards to bring him closer. "I missed you," Her patronising manner of speech, like a mother to its child, felt like nails scratching down a chalkboard to his ears. But he pushed through it, put on the best smile he could muster, and began to execute the first step of his plan. "Really?" He asks, eyes coy. "I thought you would've wanted me gone." He's directly in front of her now, can see in detail just how much the old Seoyoung, the one he used to know, was gone. But was she ever really there? That was a question Jeno had been asking himself since he'd arrived at this place. "Oh Jen," she purrs, and its a struggle not to narrow his eyes at the old nickname, "I wanted everyone else gone," She rises off of the throne to meet him face to face, slinking around him to put her hands on his shoulders, lips brushing his ear as she speaks. "But you and I, you with your crown and I with my power," It's somewhat frightening how absorbed she sounds, "Jen, we could rule the world! You and me," How stupid did she think he was? It was all too clear to Jeno what she was doing; the nickname to soften his resolve, the enthusiasm in her words, the closeness to try and distract him from what she was really saying - that she wanted him to give up his throne to let her rule the world, not them together - but just her. So he agreed. "We can rule the world," he breathes, realisation tinging the edges of his voice. "Together," he half asks, half states. "Yes," she sighs, "Together." -- There are a lot of things Jeno comes to find out, the longer he stays with Seoyoung. One; He was right - ever since he'd agreed to joining Seoyoung's side, she'd taken the lead in everything, and had gotten strangely irritated whenever Jeno tried giving his input (not that he did often, of course). Two; His parents, thankfully, were still safe. From keeping his ear to the ground and bits and pieces of information he'd managed to scrape from the servants of the palace, he'd found out that they were in hiding, and that Seoyoung already had guards looking for them. "To bring them home and keep them safe," she said when he'd asked. But he knew what she really wanted to do with them. Three: You were right - when you said she'd never be accepted as Queen. Jeno soon learns that the only guards who truly respect her are the ones left from the crew she stormed the palace with - and that the original palace guards were still loyal to him. --. They're in the throne room when it all comes together; the planning and secret preparation he'd been working towards for the past 3 weeks. This time he would put Seoyoung away, once and for all - especially now that he'd learned that his parents had been found and that they were locked in the dungeons, courtesy of Seoyoung, of course. "Promise me you'll stay with me forever," she whispers, and Jeno's stomach turns as her lips graze his. "I promise," he says, opening his eyes to find Seoyoung's still shut. It's in this moment where his chance arrives - he clicks his fingers 3 times, and lets out a low whistle; the code he'd devised with the guards a few days prior to summon them. As the guards file in, coming closer and closer towards the two, Jeno's hands rise from her clasp to cup her face - which, from this angle, Jeno thinks, almost looks innocent. He offhandedly wonders what may have happened to make Seoyoung such a contrast to her features. "Jeno." She mumbles, eyes still shut, forehead still leaning against his, a hand rising up to cup his. "What are the guards doing here?" He hums, voice low. "Just trust me," A sliver of a smirk graces his features as he continues, "I have a surprise." He takes her hands and lowers them, still holding them - trying to make it as easy as possible for the guards to slam the restraints on as fast as they can. Slowly, delicately, he steps away from Seoyoung;  a tilt of his head signalling one guard to come forward and do the act - and, like a cliché flash, it happens. He lets go, the shackles come down, and Seoyoung's eyes finally snap wide open; the same flash from that night occurs again in her gaze, but it does nothing. The shackles were made of iron - specifically to block her from using any of her tricks to get away. At her inability to inflict harm the way she desired, Seoyoung's expression crumples into a horrid mix of anger and shock. "Jeno," she calls, tone shaky, uncertain. "What are you doing?" He says nothing - simply allows himself to giggle loud enough for her to hear as the guards drag her down to the dungeons. As she should be. As she should've been all those months ago. -- "I'll give you whatever - money, power, control - freedom from your parents I know you hate so much - all you have to do is join me, Jeno." She'd been down here for over a week, allowed no contact with anyone while he tried to restore order in the kingdom above. It seemed, from the borderline feral look in her eyes and the fatigue that plagued her very being, that being in the dungeons was taking its toll. No, it didn't seem so; the longer she spoke, Jeno knew it was so. "What happened to ruling the world, together?" She pleads. Trying to appeal to him using his own words, he notes. He says nothing, simply keeps eye contact with her and lets her continue. A guard barks at her to keep quiet - she glares at them, grunting as the shackles on her wrists prevent her from doing what she so desires, and returns her gaze to Jeno. "Jen, stop being stupid and tell them to let me out, please." Again with the nickname, he thinks. Before, long ago, when he'd first met her, his heart would've fluttered, cheeks would've reddened at her use of the name. Now, though, all it did was send an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. "Jen? Jeno, tell them to let me out." She's less desperate and more irritated now, his silence, his blank, uncaring, stare making her ever angrier. He wonders, as he's done so many times he's had to be around her, as she nags and scolds and patronises, just who Seoyoung even was. If he ever knew her. He wonders, for the second time, if this was how you felt. She's gone back to being desperate now, but with some emotional guilt-tripping to really try and pull at his heartstrings. "If you love me, Jeno - if you ever loved me - you'd let me out. Please," He's silent. "If you love me, you'll do the right thing! Jen, please!" If he loved her. He inwardly scoffs at the thought. What he had for Seoyoung, he realised, wasn't love. No - maybe it was love, at one point. But now, now he realised that it had turned into infatuation. And after her big reveal, that infatuation had quickly left, leaving nothing but disgust in its wake. "You don't get to call me that name. Not anymore," He says, brows furrowed, lips curled into a sneer, as Seoyoung grips the bars of the cell, tears rimming her eyes.  "I never loved you, Seoyoung. And I am doing the right thing," he spat, leaving her to rot in her cell, her calls and shouts sounding like static the further away he got. -- With Seoyoung out of action, Jeno uses her as ransom to get the Empire troops to leave - and they do this time. Once they're gone, he stays in the mainland for a while, working on re-establishing the monarchy. For once, he thinks, maybe the title of king truly belonged to him. His parents, since being freed, had done nothing but pull Jeno into a tight embrace, and had then kept mostly to themselves. The embrace was probably the most amount of affection Jeno had ever received, but it was a start. At last, he felt, things were beginning to change. -- You were anxious. More than anxious, you were worried. You'd heard a little here and there of the events that had happened, of Jeno supposedly joining forces with Seoyoung to betray her in the end, and safe to say, your own feelings about him were now a mess of emotions. On the one hand, a part of you was still angry at him for leaving, for putting you through all this, for practically breaking your heart - on the other hand, you had to respect his diligence; he said he was going to fix things, and he did. He also showed that he was done with Seoyoung; he'd had the girl imprisoned, for goodness sake. But still... were you really ready to forgive him? It's these thoughts that have you deep in the trenches of your mind before the doors to the throne room, where you're so nervously pacing, open and shut. You look up, suspicious of who it may be; maybe a handmaid, maybe Jaemin or Renjun wanting to have a chat, maybe- "I fixed it," he breathes. It's him. You're speechless, lost for words, can barely function as Jeno's arms engulf you, as vanilla and nutmeg overpower your senses, as his grip on you becomes just a little tighter, like he couldn't ever bear to let you go. You pull away, putting some distance between you. You missed him, *yes*, but there were things you needed to discuss. You almost rush back into his arms at the flash of hurt that graces his features, but steel yourself. There were things you needed to say, this you knew - so why was it so hard for you to speak? There's a weird silence between you both; Jeno clearing his throat, you fiddling with your dress - you're almost there, have almost found the right words to say, but as usual, Jeno seems to beat you to it. "I wanted to give you a proper apology," he starts. His hands are shaking, and he balls them into fists. "There's no excuse for what I did, at all. And-" he stutters, "And if you've decided you don't want to be with me anymore, then I understand. I'll tell our parents everything. You deserve a lot better than me, Y/N." Your heart finally feels somewhat at peace. All the turmoil, all the heartbreak; It was only an apology, but you felt like you could start to build something with Jeno again. "I do deserve better," you acknowledge, and Jeno swears his heart chips a little at the thought that he really had lost you forever. "But I don't want better." You breathe slow. "I want to give us another try." Jeno  grins so wide his cheeks ache, then takes a step towards you. "Also," you continue, "I need to apologise. I shouldn't have doubted you, that time with your parents. I went too far, and I shouldn't have." Jeno shakes his head vigorously, "No, no! I deserved everything I got. If anything, I'm happy you're even willing to have me," He takes your hands in his, leans his forehead against yours, and feels the tension in his shoulders that had been there for who knows how long, finally release. "Could I- Would I be able to-" He sighs in annoyance at himself, and you feel a genuine smile begin to form for the first time in what seems like a long time. "Can I kiss you?" He asks, hesitant to overstep a boundary. You close your eyes, look into his, and see no secrets there. "Yes," you whisper. Jeno kisses with emotion - like you're a fragile thing he simply mustn't break, but also like he'll never see you again. Jeno puts everything he couldn't put into words into this kiss, as though its your own secret language - a language you had no difficulty understanding. As he cups your cheeks, leans back a little, and simply looks, deeply, into your eyes, you catch the second of his unspoken  messages. I love you, his eyes say. I love you, say yours.

[playernumberv]

An introduction!

Hello to my likely-imaginary audience! If you’ve somehow stumbled upon this tumblr blog and are wondering what this place is all about, this post should get you all settled in. :)

Where the hell is this?

The short answer is that it’s a personal gaming blog, where I write about gaming to my heart’s content. The long answer is... well, the rest of this post. 

Who the hell am I?

I’m a random Internet person who really loves video-games, who has a strong passion about gaming, and who loves talking about games and sharing his views about games. That about sums it up. I’m a very private person in my personal life (which is why I opted for a blog and not a YouTube channel), so I won’t be talking about myself much, if at all. This is a blog purely dedicated to gaming, so I’d primarily focus on talking about gaming. :)

Let me share a little bit about who I am as a gamer. In general, my favourite genre of gaming is JRPGs (e.g. Final Fantasy, Tales of, Persona) - the recent Persona 5 Royal is my personal favourite JRPG. I also have a strong preference for narrative-focused games, which is why The Last Of Us is my absolute favourite video-game ever. I own a PS4 Pro and a Nintendo Switch, and these are the consoles on which I actively play games on at the moment. I also own a PS3, a PS Vita, a PSP, and all the Nintendo handhelds in existence all the way back to the Game Boy, but these have been retired for some time now. I also intend to buy a PS5 at launch, or shortly after launch. Hence, the gaming content on this blog will overwhelmingly be focused on these consoles - it’s difficult for me to have an informed opinion of games or consoles that I don’t own or have no interest in (such as the Xbox), after all.

I’ve got a Twitter account too (@PlayerNumberV).

At this point, I haven’t decided if I’d be actively using the Twitter account, but tentatively, properly-thought out and longer text posts go here, while immediate short reactions and thoughts will go on Twitter. I’ll work out the specifics along the way.

How did this blog come about?

I’ve been playing video-games for about two decades now (I’m currently in my late 20s), and I’ve always enjoyed writing about games and talking about games, but never really had a proper platform to do so with. I sometimes imagine that I should have pursued a career in the gaming industry, for example as a games’ journalist or even as a games’ writer, but I wasn’t gutsy enough to do so (at least in my country, it’s a pretty risky career to go for). I still enjoy writing about games as a hobby, either way, so why not do it as a hobby? I don’t know why it took me so long to actually make myself a platform, but here it is. 

Also, an interesting bit of trivia: what finally triggered the action of actually making this blog was The Last Of Us Part II. Of the hundreds of games I’ve played in my life, I’ve never loved a game as much as I loved The Last Of Us (2013). Needless to say, I was intensely and incredulously passionate about its sequel. To put things lightly, I was so thoroughly disappointed by The Last Of Us Part II that I felt an overwhelming urge to air my views somewhere, which led me to decide to finally create a gaming blog. That said, I’ve ended up talking about TLOU2 on Reddit (note: click this link at your own risk, I spoil major story details here) instead, so I’ve decided that I do not wish to start off this blog with the kind of negativity I’d inevitably have when talking about TLOU2.

Why Player Number Five? Why not 1, 2 or 3? WHY NOT 69????

I’ve got terrible naming sense, so when I had to come up with an alias, I couldn’t be bothered to give it too much thought. My name starts with ‘V’ (that’s as much as I’d be saying about my personal life here). ‘V’ in roman numerals is the number 5. Hence, PlayerNumberV gives me a convenient alias that incorporates the fact that this is a gaming blog with my own name. It also kind of makes sense that I’m player “five” and not “one” or “two”, because I’m not a professional games’ journalist or some important bigwig who is directly involved with the gaming industry. I’m just a person who really loves games, and I’m writing this blog purely to indulge in my own interests.

Maybe PlayerNumberLXIX (nice) would have been better though (please indulge my terrible sense of humor for a bit, will ya?). 

What kind of content will be posted here?

I’m a text kinda person, so most of my own original content will come in the form of text posts, such as opinion pieces, game reviews, and the like. Full-length posts will likely be in the minority - I haven’t written a full-length game review in 3 years; it’s simply too much effort, and as a working adult, it’s difficult to find the time. Similarly, full-length opinion pieces will probably be written only if there’s a subject I feel extremely strongly about. I will, however, commit to posting mini-reviews (i.e. of length around 200 words or so, where I summarize my overall opinions) of all the games I play, complete with review scores too - if it matters, I generally rate games on a 0 to 100 scale (PSA: all review scores are inevitably subjective, and mine will be too, so don’t get mad if you don’t agree with my rating). 

Occasionally, I may post other types of gaming-related content, such as concepts and ideas I have for video-games, personal wishes for an upcoming video-game, and other such content. I also do enjoy memes (seriously, memes helped me cope with my disappointment in TLOU2 so much), so if I come across a gaming-related meme which I particularly enjoy, I may post them here too! Hell, if I have a great meme idea, I may even make my own memes and post them occasionally. Some images would probably help break the monotony of a text-only blog, after all. :D

Since this is a gaming blog, I will overwhelmingly post only about gaming. I do enjoy movies and animes very much as well, however, though it is less common for me to have anything passionate or important to say about these. Still, on the rare occasion that I do have something to say about an anime or movie I watched, it’s entirely possible that I may post about them here too. 

How will I handle spoilers in my posts?

Tumblr is a public platform, and while I’m no professional writer and I don’t expect much traffic on this blog, if at all, there’s always a chance that someone may randomly stumble upon this blog. I’d hate to be the guy who posts a spoiler for a game that someone is still halfway through. In general, my policy is that reviews will be completely spoiler-free, save for information already divulged in pre-release official marketing. Other text posts, if they include spoilers, will be prefaced with spoiler warnings. As for image posts, that’s a little more difficult, but I’d generally try to avoid images with spoilers for recently-released games. At this point I haven’t decided if there’s an embargo period before I start posting freely about spoilers on this blog, but the above will be my general policy for now. I’ve gotten spoiled by the Internet before, so I absolutely understand how frustrating it is and I’d like to be a good denizen of the gaming community by not spoiling games unnecessarily.

Should you care about my opinion?

Honestly? Probably not. I’m quite literally a random Internet stranger, and as should be common wisdom by now, the words of an Internet rando don’t mean much. Still, it’s up to you, really. If you read something here that you agree with, or that helps you with thinking about games or making a decision about games, good for you! If you read something you don’t agree with, that’s fine too - as I’ve said, I’m just a random person on the Internet, and my opinion isn’t important. I’ve listed (or intend to list) my favourite games on various pages of this blog - if you find that my tastes in games coincide well with yours, by all means heed my opinion if it helps. If you think I have terrible taste in games and you disagree with almost everything I say, then clearly my opinions are not going to be of much value to you. That’s fine too - to each their own! I’m sure there’s no need to get mad at the opinions of an Internet rando, is there? ;)

Upcoming Posts

As a start, I have two posts I intend to work on in the coming week(s) or so.

First is a list of ‘upcoming games’ that I’m personally interested in. These may include games that I’m actively excited for and intend to pre-order, or may simply be games that I find intriguing and am looking out for more information on before I decide if I’d play them. I think there’s no better way to start a gaming blog than a joyful discussion of the games that I’m excited for. :)

Second is a more formal discussion I’d like to embark on in some detail: Are Metacritic scores accurate or useful? As a hobby, I’ve kept a log of subjective review scores I’ve given to many of the games I’ve played over the past 10 years or so (unfortunately, I didn’t properly keep track of scores for every single game, so I’ve lost the records for quite a number). Still, this gives me the opportunity to actually do statistical comparisons between the scores I’ve given and review scores based on Metacritic (with some caveats that I’d discuss more about in the post itself). I think it’d be quite an interesting and informative discussion of a pretty relevant topic in gaming.

More distantly, I’d likely write mini-reviews of Story of Seasons: Friends of Mineral Town (Nintendo Switch) and Ghosts of Tsushima (PS4) when I play them in July! Looking forward to these!

That’ll be all for my first post! 

-V

[blackasteriia]

Xion in Re:Mind

So, today I’m going to go through all scenes that are Xion relevant and do some basic analysis. I’ll also talk about her data fight.

Spoilers under cut, obviously.

Keyblade Graveyard-- Counting with Saïx

In this scene, Saïx, Xigbar, and Xehanort, gather together to learn how to count-- AKA they’re filling out the ranks of the Organization. They come-up two short. Xehanort reveals that Terra-Nort is still up his sleeve. I don’t understand, and don’t ask me. Alright, lets get onto Xion:

Vexen creates 20 original puppets. The first twelve were the original set of the Replica Program from CO. It is of these twelve that the Organization is pulling from to put people into. They get-up to Ansem, Xemnas, Vanitas, Repliku, and Young Xehanort, to make five, and then + Xion.

Repliku is referred to as the ‘prototype,’ and then Xion is of course, No. i. 

“The plan for the last replica is to give it a heart that is connected to Sora.”

Cool. Cool. Cool. Why not Roxas? Literally, why not Roxas?

Xion doesn’t have a heart. That is the entire point of Days, if Xion had a heart, then why did she die? How does she have a heart Nomura, you’re skipping right over the question I want answered. 

FURTHERMORE, the only memory that exists of Xion is of the No. i, notes. Xion as in the girl that is in Sora’s heart, is not No. i. They don’t know about Xion because they can’t remember her. So why would Saïx mention ‘someone connected to Sora?’ As far as Vexen is concerned, his creation never attained sentience. Vexen was dead before Sora’s memories were put into Xion. Sora had not lost his memories until the end of Chain of Memories, so it’s just-- very confusing. 

This throws such a gear in the machine because Saïx doesn’t remember Xion. Why would they bother to resurrect a dead replica that was obviously an abject failure, instead of Roxas, the nobody of Sora? How do they know about Xion?

“No. i, an imaginary number, how fitting.” Thank you for the exposition Xigbar.

Then Saïx goes and gets Vexen. 

No one should give a shit about No. i, because No. i was just an empty, insentient replica that followed orders. Xion was the person that formed from No. i. There’s an argument that Vexen would return for Repliku, but as far as he’s aware, No. i was a shell. 

AKA this entire thing threw a wrench in character motivations, raises more questions, failed to answer old questions, and tells me nothing new about Xion. All of the information in this scene is in supplemental material, now it’s just in the main game. 

Cool.

The return of my Salt. 

This is the Seasalt trio reunion with some extra pizz-zazz and playable Roxas. We get a little more exposition on No. i and Xion. Kairi is also here.

Reunion of the old Organization members with Axel, Xemnas, and Saïx + No. i. Axel asks who Xion is. 

“This ‘guest’ of ours has an old score to settle with you.”

Okay, Xemnas, you said you can’t remember Xion. First, of all, you don’t know that Axel and Xion ever fought. You don’t know that they were friends. You don’t know anything about Xion beyond the notes Vexen left of No. i. What are you talking about?

Literally five seconds later: “It is a being of whom we have no memory.”

Still misgendering Xion, nice.

“A true nobody, hailing from the edge of oblivion.”

This means nothing and is just a cool line, but you know I’m going to run with it.

So, if No. i, was recreated from the notes left by Vexen, then it is not Xion. That is not Xion. Xion is still inside Sora. No. i is a completely different thing than Xion. Xion developed a personality, memories, and ‘heart,’ supposedly over time. So Xemnas alluding to ‘it has no memories of what it truly is,’ is bogus and dumb. Never mind that Xemnas wouldn’t know that. 

He can’t even remember why Xion was destroyed in the first place and even why he has no memory of it. 

Saïx is acting like he knows something when it comes to Xion and even encourages her to remember Axel and Roxas-- for no apparent reason. 

Because he doesn’t remember the friendship between Axel, Roxas, and Xion, why would he even think to prompt her on this.

Xion remembers Axel and immediately goes for Lea’s throat-- this is canon and valid. 

Okay then we get the usual scene with Xion getting.... her memory back? More on this in a bit. 

This is also good and valid. 

E N R A G E D  S C R E A M I N G

The only assumption I have is that Xion begins to remember Axel and Roxas. Then that starts to return pieces of memory to Xemnas. This is not at all implied in the text but it’s the only rational explanation for his behavior in this scene. 

I wanna use a few more images for this because it’s all visual through this part. 

Sora’s Station of Awakening peels back to reveal Roxas’. Roxas’ station now has an image of Xion in it. 

Then, these leaflets type thing start to float away and Sora calls them, ‘the memories.’ So, my previous theory that Xemnas was beginning to remember is dashed out of the water because, according to this scenes the memories had not been released yet. After this, Axel remember Xion. 

(This would be a great time to reveal Xion’s station of awakening and cement her as a unique person, even have her interact with Sora-- but no that would be too much to ask from Nomura).

This scene is also really dumb because it basically just stops the original scene, has Sora make an obvious statement to explain what’s going on, and then continues the original scene. Roxas’ returns, with a brief break into the void for exposition, and lets get into the meat of this.

Roxas and Xion fight Xemnas. So on and so forth--

This crap.

What is this.

Where did it come from? Why is it important? Axel says, ‘get what’s ours,’ and they get this. Which is the recusant symbol that is in all of their names. That’s, easy to figure out. It is then implied that this is the... symbol of their connection. AKA, the symbol of their membership in the Organization is also the symbol of their connection. Okay. Except, Xemnas was the character who brainwashed and assaulted Xion; The character that lead to Roxas and Axel’s death. The Organization is why their friendship fell apart in the first place. I could get deep into like, the psychological implications of the symbol it’s just--

Why use it for this reading. In this way. 

Ugh. 

Whatever. Kairi gets kidnapped and the scene continues as usual. Xion has no new dialogue. We learn nothing about her character. She just has the blank, default female character. The sole personality that Nomura can write for women. 

Xion is shown fighting wth the keyblade wielders. Nothing, really, to see here. She’s just in the climax, she doesn’t do anything unique. Heck, Roxas even has to save her at one point. So, lets move onto her data fight. 

Xion’s Data Fight

When I heard Xion was going to get a data fight I was very excited for the potential of that fight. Perusing the internet netted potential fights pulling on her replica abilities or the final forms from 358/2 Days. Imagine fighting a boss that can pull at least one move from all other bosses previously fought. Which was my first hope. My second hope was for the form changes from her previous final battle, different movesets, different abilities and powers. A wide challenge.

My worst fear was that she would be a copy of Roxas’ fight from KH2. 

Well, never underestimate Nomua’s ability to disappoint because that is exactly what we got. I suppose, looking at the previous content of Re:Mind I could have seen this coming. Xion did not receive any new dialogue. We did not learn anything about her character. All we learned was a few chunks of lore information that... we basically already knew. Anything new was confusing, useless, and irrelevant. I knew that Xion’s power mimicked Roxas’, that’s obvious.

 The addition of her using Saïx claymore in the graveyard was interesting because it implied something new about her powers. She could copy someone other than Sora or Roxas. In Re:Mind however, Xion shows-up in the graveyard without ever encountering Sora or Roxas, with the kingdom key. There is no, from a story or lore standpoint, for her to have that. She has had no chance to copy it. The keyblade is not inherent to Xion. So, really, we fight Roxas in Re:Mind, dressed-up as Xion. 

Nomura isn’t creative enough, or cares enough, to take Xion’s character in any new direction. He brings her back in KH3 not because he has a character arc for her, or anything to do for her. But only for fanservice, for Roxas’ and Axel’ character arcs. He won’t give her a unique moveset because he doesn’t consider her a unique enough character to warrant one. Light is Roxas’ element, not Xion’s, she doesn’t have an element. She doesn’t have a keyblade. Her face is Kairi’s face. Her value is rooted in her connection to Sora. 

On the other hand, she has, what I’ve seen and been told, is one of the hardest fights in the game. She will wood chipper Sora if the player is not on their toes. Through her teleportation trick she’s fast and has extended invincibility frames. Unlike Saïx, she is pointed and aggressive, with seconds between assaults. I will gladly keep the headcanon that Xion is an aggressive, hard-hitting, and fast fighter.

[btsybrkr]

2020 Vision: What To Expect From The Next Decade (By Someone Who Has No Idea, Obviously.)

Happy New Year, all!! I had planned to do a little run-down last week of everything that happened in the 2010s, but instead succumbed to the existential struggle that comes with the week that follows Christmas Day, in which your time becomes largely swallowed up by asking yourself ‘what day is it?’ and ‘at what point am I supposed to stop living on a diet of alcohol and Quality Street?’. It’s festive purgatory, and you’re literally powerless to do anything other than sleep, eat, and moan that the shops are still playing Christmas music. That’s my excuse, anyway.

So, instead, I thought we’d say a collective “cinnabit, lad” to 2019 and a collective “what is UP, dude?” to the Roaring 20s 2.0, the only sequel that humanity has waited a whole 100 years for. Apart from Avatar 2, which I imagine will come out at some point in the 3020s.  What do we know so far about what the 2020s have in store for us? Obviously, not a lot, but as someone who successfully predicted the outcome of the last election, and the UK’s last four Eurovision losses - two things which I’m sure absolutely nobody ever saw coming - I thought I’d give out my own valuable speculation. Here’s what the 2020s might look like, according to me.

Politics

Let’s get it out of the way - we’re in a terrible state. At this point, every important issue is so divisive, that the nation is divided over everything, including whether we’re actually divided or not. Do I think we’ll become any less divided in the coming years, in a United Kingdom where the conversation is so often dominated by things we can absolutely never seem to agree on? Yes. We will have no choice. Why? 

All-out war.

Yes, I said it. In 2021, there will be all-out war. With America, probably. I don’t know why. Maybe Trump will get into an argument with Boris Johnson over who can manage to effortlessly look the most like a Viz caricature of themselves - they both already do somehow, I’m just saying they might disagree on which one of them is the best at it. Could be that, or possibly a more serious cause, to do with nuclear weapons or something, but I’d rather not think about that, because it’s not as funny as the Viz thing. And it’s more likely. So, we’ll pretend for now that we’re on the verge of the first pantomime, slapstick war the world has ever seen.

Anyway, while Trump and Johnson are beefing up a storm - picture Punch and Judy, except the puppets are in suits and have thinning, bright yellow hair - previously all-encompassing issues like Brexit will fall by the wayside, until Boris Johnson eventually decides to hand his notice in to focus on more important things, like beating Trump with a wooden spoon and chasing after the dog that stole all his sausages. After this, we’ll all come together to realise that if actual elected officials can’t do the job, then maybe we, the people, deserve our chance to test our political metal. Obviously, we can’t let just anybody have a go, but at the end of the year, Cosmopolitan magazine puts the traditional democratic process at number one on its ‘Leave It In 2021’ list, so we have absolutely no choice but to come up with something else, which brings me to...

Television And Film

2022 will start with a bang, with the debut of Simon Cowell’s new talent show format, So You Think You Can Be The Prime Minister?, hosted of course by Ant and Dec, with the aftershow on ITV2 being hosted by Jeremy Paxman. Contestants will line up in huge crowds to give judges Russell Brand, Susanna Reid, and, of course, Jesus S. Cowell himself (forgot to mention, Simon Cowell has been elected as the new Christ in this completely non-hypothetical universe, alright?) their opinions on hot political topics such as Brexit, the NHS, and, of course, whether a Jaffa Cake can really be classed as a biscuit or not. Each episode, contestants will take part in a live debate, themed around a different issue with every passing week. The two least popular contestants after the weekly phone vote will go head-to-head giving their own rendition of Running The World by Jarvis Cocker, with the worst performer being eliminated. I know a sing-off isn’t exactly relevant in a politics programme, but it’s Saturday night primetime so it’s still got to be at least somewhat entertaining, yeah?

Love Island will be back, of course - and not just with a Summer and Winter edition, but with an additional Spring and Autumn one for the 2024 schedule! This will be a win-win situation for the series producers, and for its viewers, as by 2027, ITV will run out of attractive under-35s to appear on the show, and members of the public will begin getting called up to appear - like with jury duty, except that ITV pay for you to have extensive cosmetic surgery first, so that you’re aesthetically pleasing enough for people to want to tune in, and so that you can maintain a successful career selling Bootea on Instagram afterwards. 

Films will also go through a renaissance in the 2020s, as the Hollywood big boys come to a conclusion that everything has just become a little too… blockbuster. To remedy this, they make the joint decision that, 100 years on, we should take ourselves back to the silent film era, which will surely create hundreds of jobs for mute people, therefore solving Hollywood’s problems with a lack of diversity in film. It’ll also give well-known TikTok creators a chance to make the leap into mainstream entertainment, as they’ll have spent so long lip-synching over the years that they’ll now be more qualified to star in these new golden age pictures than actual trained actors. Obviously, that sounds absolutely beyond comprehension, but look at Count Orlok in 1922’s Nosferatu. See his slender limbs, blank stare, gothic dress sense - in a way, he’s the original e-boy, and there’s plenty of them out there on TikTok now that could play the titular vampire just as well in a 100th anniversary remake, just with less neck-biting and more lip-biting. Trust me, it’ll be a hit.

Technology

Throughout the 2010s, there’s been a lot of talk about everyone spending too much time on their bloody phones, so, in 2024, Apple will try to combat this issue when they unveil perhaps their most innovative product to date - the iPhone XZ+, a phone which exists solely in the mind of its users. Not in a Black Mirror, chip-inside-your-brain sort of way, either. It is literally imaginary. It’s a phone that, instead of being a phone, is actually just the concept of a phone. Yes, for the small cost of £1,500 and six units of your own soul, you, too, can block the rest of the world out. How amazing is that? No more wasting hours of your day keeping in touch with friends and family. No more accessing a wealth of information, wherever you are, with a quick Google. No more blocking out the sound of cackling pre-teens on the bus by putting in your earphones and listening to music. These things are bad and must be stopped, before we become an entire species of communicating, bopping, learning zombies.

I think those must be bad things anyway, since you can rarely go a few seconds scrolling through social media without stumbling across a ‘woke’ meme about how the use of smartphones is destroying us, one notification at a time - memes which I’m absolutely sure were created and posted from a book or a potato or something. Otherwise they’d just be hypocritical, wouldn’t they?

Anyway, the iPhone XZ+. It’s the only thing you need inside your head this decade. Apart from a very real ever-growing sense of fear and doom, which you can get for free.

Sport

The next decade will see the Olympics and Paralympics take place in 2020, 2024 and 2028, as well as the Winter equivalents to both in 2022 and 2026. You’d think we’d be all Olympic-ed out with that, but in the absence of anything else that gets people feeling remotely patriotic in a purely nice way, the world will decide to come together to throw scaled-down, low-budget Olympic games in all the off-years this decade. 

Summer 2021 will see the start of the first ever Not-The-Actual-Olympics. Marked by a glamourous opening ceremony in a field in Loughborough, the opening will feature a series of performances from stars such as H from Steps, and will be attended by some people who aren’t the royal family, but really do look like them. Taking place over the 10-week long games will be thumb wars, arm wrestling, staring contests, and an exciting event in which competitors try to eat the most HobNobs they possibly can without the help of a glass of water to combat the extreme dry-mouth they end up with. It might sound underwhelming now, but if there turns out to be any truth in the other predictions I’ve made here, it might be just what you need to restore your faith in the everyday.

Happy New Year, Everyone

In all seriousness - not that the rest of this isn’t serious, because it is, and is definitely all going to happen - whatever the coming years bring, it’s important to remember that we have to take the good with the bad, to look after ourselves and each other, and to enjoy each day as much as we possibly can, even during the bits of life that leave us feeling a little less Gangnam Style than we did way back in 2012. Thanks, everyone, for reading my blog. I’ll be back again in a week or so to talk absolute arse about something else. Until then, I hope you all had a great 2019, and have an even better start to 2020. Cheers!

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Thirsty Tweets

Hello! Happy Monday! I had a job that it turns out I can’t take because the hours are piss poor and unreasonable. But I hit 190 followers so sweet! I’m also a tad feverish so forgive the rambles. Below you’ll find the first of six requests I’ve taken off of the lovely @loki-the-fox. It says reader but so sorry- I typically write for OC’s and when it comes to RPF I refuse to write reader inserts- it’s my line. Sorry! 

Masterlist

Request by Anon on 11/15/18 Hello! I had this sorta funny idea that I wanted to request? But basically Tom and the reader are both on the set for “reading thirst tweets” and while they both read them out loud they get shocked, flustered and possessive over each other as each one goes. The reader even agrees with some of them. I was either thinking that they could do a joint interview, like Kevin Hart and his wife, or they could watch each other read em out loud behind the camera ??? idk, I just thought how funny it would be to see Tom react to all the thirsty tweets he gets. If you can’t incorporate everything though, that’s completely okay!!

Thirsty Tweets

“Monica,Tom! Set in ten!” A crew member yelled after popping her head into the room I was currently pacing. Interviews and such were always hard for me. I had never really thought I would get to a place where I’d be doing interviews on live telly. I’d never thought I’d get this far at all to be honest, yet here I am.

“Your hands are shaking.”

Tom came out of nowhere or so it seemed. His footsteps always seemed soft and it never made any sense to me. The way he moved and walked showed his confidence. His steps would echo on solid floors but in here, the carpet silenced his movements letting him sneak up on me. I hated it. I hated how he would catch me off guard.

“I’m fine.”

I hated him. Or at least, I wanted to. He was tall and lean and beautiful. His kindness was remarkable. I could swear his voice, accent and all could melt butter fresh out of the fridge. And I had to spend the last year working with him. It wasn’t fair.

Before I would have sworn men like him were imaginary. Nope, turns out that’s not the case. They just are never interested in girls like me. That’s why I got the role of ‘Mary’. I was plain compared to the actresses he was used to working with but could clean up pretty. That was just what they needed.

Now I know the sad truth, men like him exist. I want one and can’t have one. Well, that’s not true, I had one. Well almost. I got to make friends with one while he pretended not to be one.

I know it’s a part of the job but after some of the scenes we’ve filmed together it’s hard not to get flustered around the man. He’s just so perfect and then knowing first hand what it feels like to have him almost naked and rutting against me- it’s just too much. I know what the man’s ass feels like for god’s sake. You grab that ass while hearing him moan in your ear and not feel anything. I’m an actress yes but I’m not immune to him.

I didn’t think it would be a problem. Don’t catch feelings for your coworkers. It seems like an easy enough rule and he played a bit of an asshole in his part. It should have been easy.

If it was so easy why was having him even in the same room as me making me turn into a freaking mess. It was honestly annoying. It wasn’t like me to be a flustered mess because of a man.

Filming is one thing. It’s my thing. It’s what I do. I always felt in my element. Getting on that stage where I’m just me was different. And being just me next to Him? Oh no, that’s a whole different ballgame and I suck at ball.

“You two are up.” The same woman popped her head in again and waved us on. Yay!

“It will be okay.” The sound of his voice drew my eyes to him and I hated it how the sound of it relaxed me. “I’ll take care of you.” He promised me and my mind went right to the gutter.

Rather than say the not so professional thought that ran through my head I just nodded mutely and went to follow him out. Tom however wouldn’t have that and instead he took my hand and tucked it around his arm. This man, I can’t even begin to deal with him. If only he wasn’t so nice. That would make it easier.

“Welcome! I’m so glad to have you both!” Neil stood from behind his desk on the bright stage as they stepped on. “I’ve got Tom Hiddleston and Monica Martin from the new film ‘Before Dawn’ here with me today. Gosh, it’s so good to have you both here.”

Neil shook Tom’s hand and pulled him into a quick hug, clapping him on the back before turning his attention to me with a whistle. I always hated how I felt like a piece of meat on these type of shows.

“You look amazing, Monica. Doesn’t she look great, Tom?”

“Thank you.” I hated how my face felt warm as Tom took a moment to eye me as if he hadn’t seen me pacing around the room for the last 20 minutes or so. He was such a good actor that he could almost convince me that he was impressed with the little blue dress I wore when he agreed.

After being pulled into a hug I took my place on the couch next to Tom. Heat radiated off of him and I tried to ignore it. I really did. It was just as hard to try and ignore how good he smelled. But I had to try. I had to somehow survive this interview and the rest of the press tour.

“Now, Monica- You’ve made a bit of a splash with your role as Mary. This is your first major break, isn’t that right?”

I nodded but Tom answered before I could find my voice. “She’s amazing in it.”

“Thank you.” Don’t blush. Don’t blush. I’m blushing.

“Now you’ve both been working very close during filming. What’s it like working with someone as well known as Tom?” There was no way to avoid answering that question myself. When the weight of Tom’s hand settled on my knee I took a deep breath to try and steady my voice. He gave what I’m sure he thought was a reassuring squeeze. All it did was send butterflies into a frenzy inside my stomach.

“Tom’s been amazing to work with.” I freaking gush and it’s hard not to cringe at how fan girl I sound. “He’s been so kind and patient with me.”

“Such glowing praise.” Neil opened two envelops of and pulled out stacks of cards as Tom laughed and fidgeted in his seat. Even when he is fidgeting he looks good and I hate him for it. Or at least, I want to.

“We’re going to play a game.” Neil announces to us and frankly I hate games.

“A game?” I parrot back dumbly and instantly wish I could just keep my mouth closed. Games on shows like this were never a good thing.

“I’m going to give you a stack of cards with tweets on them about Tom.” Neil reached out with a stack of cards over his desk and reluctantly I take them.

“Oh gosh.” As I take the cards I can’t help but laugh. I don’t want to play this game.

“After he’s going to read some about you.” Tom snags his envelop with his stack of cards still inside.

“This will be fun.” He says as he laughs and it’s not fair that his laugh sounds that good.

“Go on, let’s get started!” Neil sits back in his office chair behind his desk to enjoy the show.

“They could make a movie of Tom Hiddleston just drinking tea and I’d fucking watch it.” I couldn’t help but laugh after I finished reading the tweet. “You wouldn’t be alone.” I admit.

“Would you watch it?” Tom nudged my shoulder with his as he laughed.

“I’ve seen you drink plenty of tea already, thank you.” He pouted and I laughed harder at him because what else can you do? “Okay next one. ‘Tom Hiddleston could run me over on his run and I’d suck his dick.’ Well that escalated.” I laugh and look to Tom. “Please never run me over during your morning runs?”

“I promise not to!” We both seemed to be working hard to ignore the fact that I just had to say ‘I’d suck his dick’. I mean- that’s what the tweet said but still. There was a blush on his face and I’m sure I looked no better.

“Oh god.” I laugh before reading the next one. “Tom could not shower for six months and I’d still let him fuck me.”

“What?” He couldn’t stop laughing. “I’m worried about this person. Value yourself. Know your worth. Insist on regular showering.”

“I’d not let you near me if you haven’t showered in even a few days. I know how you sweat after your runs.”

“They are just getting worse and worse.” Tom was fidgeting more and more. He took his glasses off and cleaned them at least three times since we have started and in general he was simply not sitting still.

“Tom could-” my laughter cut off the words. “Tom could bend me over and.. I can’t read this. I- Nope.” I tapped out as Tom snagged the last paper from me.

“Oh dear.” He said sternly. “I think I’d like to try this.”

I could have died when he winked at me and slipped the paper into his pocket. What the hell did that even mean!? Who did he want to try that with? Why did I care? Oh right, because he’s fucking beautiful and sweet and sexy and the idea of him doing what was written on that paper was so out of left field.

I mean really, Handcuffs? Bent over a counter? Mirrors? That’s not exactly light weight naughty in my book and while it totally would fit the character he played in ‘Before Dawn’ I didn’t expect that out of him. And why for the love of god and all that is holy did he wink at me?! Why the hell did I feel like I was on fire? Am I on fire?

“You still with us Monica?” Neil’s voice cut through my thoughts and oh fuck, I zoned out thinking about Tom and handcuffs. It’s a good thing I’m not a man because there would be some damning evidence on cable TV of where my thoughts went.

“Yeah sorry!” This could be easily brushed off, right?

“Where did you go?” Tom asked and I wanted to kill him, I really did.

“Oh, just you know.” Great. Classy. Good job Monica. Way to go. Could I make it any more obvious? Someone stop me.

“Well you’re done for now. I’ll let you off the hook. See, that wasn’t such a bad game!” Neil laughs as he motions to Tom. “Tom’s turn to start reading.”

“Oh god.” The groan comes out before I could stop it as he pulls out the cards.

“Monica’s got that girl next door you’d like to bone thing going on.” Tom reads before laughing. “None of the girls next door looked half as good as she does. Where did this fellow grow up? I should have lived there.”

I try not to blush. It’s just an act and it’s what’s expected of him. Still, it’s hard not to have butterflies when someone like him agrees with something like that.

“Whatever.” The word is mumbled and I did mean to say it.

“Whatever?” There is a hint of challenge in Tom’s voice. “I’m serious.”

I try and deflect with fidgeting and laughing. It works for him, it could work for me, right? Yeah, no. I’m pretty sure I’m not selling the fidget look like he does. He had to plan his fidgeting. That’s the only way it could come off so well for him. That made sense, right?

“Next up! We’ll do a few more then switch again. They get better and better.” Neil urged and I was worried.

“Okay, okay.” Tom relented and I could feel the seat of the couch shift as he moved to try and get comfortable. “’I’d like to put Monica up on that counter and eat her like a sweet potato pie.’ Wow.” It was weird seeing Tom as a loss for words. His cheeks burned and the blush looked good on him.

“That’s… I’m never going to eat sweet potato pie again.” I force out as I tried to act like I was okay with strangers saying that to me. As if they hadn’t been screaming those things at me since I was 13.

“I’ve never had sweet potato pie and now I…” Shaking his head, Tom fidgeted more, loosening his tie as Neil laughed. It was entertaining for him and for the masses. Our ‘fans’ would eat up our discomfort and we’d play it off as if it was nothing because we are ‘actors’ and we’re ‘public commodities’.

“Next, next.” Neil urged.

“Monica could take a strap on and wreck my ass and I’d thank her.” Tom cleared his throat. “Well now. Perhaps these thoughts are better kept to oneself.”

I tried to laugh and something managed to come out of me. The look Tom gave me made me think he didn’t believe I found it funny at all. He’d be right about that. I wanted nothing more than for this interview to be over.

“Moving on.” I was thankful he didn’t want to dwell on that one. I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye after him reading these things about me. “Monica is so hot I’d like to...”

“What?” Tom’s voice trailed off and his whole body seemed to stiffen next to me. It was confusing and I couldn’t understand what was going on.

“I’m not reading this filth.” Tom ripped the stack of papers in half before stacking them and ripping them again.

“Hey now, don’t be like that. It’s just a game.” Neil was clearly caught off guard by Tom’s reaction. I was as well, to be honest.

“Actually, no. I will be like this. I laughed and played along while you made her read inappropriate things said about me but I’ll not subject her to hearing such filth about her. Further, the things I am being asked to read about her are significantly worse than what you asked her to read of me.” Waving the stack of ripped papers at the desk. “This game is bloody disgusting. No one should be spoken about by strangers in such a way as they are speaking of her. No one.”

“Now, we didn’t mean any offense. It was just a fun little game.” Neil back peddled as Tom stood. His back was straight and his shoulders back. It was an impressive sight that made my breath catch in my lungs.

This wasn’t in the plan. We knew what sort of games Neil liked to play on his show. The only surprising thing was Tom’s reaction. It made no sense to me. Why was he acting like a noble and why the hell am I picturing him on a white horse sweeping in to save me.

My internal rambling is cut short when he reached back and plucked my hand up. With a firm tug he pulls me to my feet and I go willingly enough. What the hell is going on?

His grip was warm and firm and good god was his hand large. I wanted him to always hold my hand like this. Looking back, Neil was protesting and trying to salvage the situation but it was clear our interview was over. Tom pulled the microphone off and snagged mine off as well before tossing them both onto the couch behind us.

“Don’t worry, the fallout will land mostly on me.” Tom’s blue eyes turned back on me as he marched forward, pulling me along behind him even still by the hand.

“Tom?” Finally I was able to get control over my feet and plant them on the linoleum in the hall. He’d managed to make it a good ways dragging me behind him. “Why did you do that? What the hell?”

“I...” His voice tapered off and I was stuck watching as he fidgeted more. It really wasn’t fair how good he looked as he raked his fingers through his disheveled curls.

“You what?” I didn’t mean to snap at him, honest.

“I won’t act like I’m okay with people saying those things about you.” That made no sense. It comes with the job. Hell, it comes with being a damn woman.

“Why?” A sigh rips itself through my chest. “It’s not like you have a reason to care.”

“I beg your pardon?” The look in his eyes gave me pause. It was fierce and strong and sharp. He still had my hand in his iron tight grip. “I have every bloody reason to care.”

“I don’t understand?” Look at me, I’m clearly following what is going on here. Actually no, no I’m not. Because what it seems like is going on here is that I’ve lost my damn mind. Either that or Tom-

Never did he let go of my hand. That sticks out in my mind. Don’t judge me, it all happened so fast. One moment he was looking at me with that fierce look and the next his other hand was resting on my neck and pulling me toward him. I came willingly enough. How could I not? My whole brain seemed to stop working as he leaned down.

“Maybe you’ll understand this.” What does that even mean? Oh- Oh that’s what he means.

His lips were warm and soft. I could feel the scratch of his stubble against my face as his warm breath fanned out over me. He stepped forward and I blindly allowed him to lead me. How could I not? Part of me was scared that if I dared to open my eyes this would have been some crazy dream.

My back met the wall and that snapped me back to reality. When the hell did I put my hand on his chest? Why the hell am I running it up and wrapping it around his neck? What the fuck is going on? He pulled back, giving us some space between us and I gasped for air.

“Forgive me, that was very forward. I just-”

“Do it again.” I demanded even as I pulled him to me. “Do it again if you meant it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. As his lips molded themselves against mine again I took a quick moment to mentally thank god and Neil for the Thirsty Tweets game.

Tag list for Tom: @dangertoozmanykids101, @alexakeyloveloki, @theoneanna, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-7, @j-u-s-t-4, @winterisakiller, @wegingerangelica

Want in on future tags? Drop me a line and let me know what type of stories you’d like to be tagged in and I’ll add you to the list. I write for Tom and marvel. 

[hellostarseed]

Witchy Tag - Part 1

1. Are you solitary or in a coven?

Solitary. A coven sounds nice though as at present I don't have any witchy friends.

2. Do you consider yourself Wiccan, Pagan, witch, or other?

Eclectic witch, as I don't follow any specific set of beliefs but pull from many different beliefs and cultures to form my own path.

3. What is your zodiac sign?

Sun and Moon in Pisces, and Ascending in Gemini.

4. Do you have a Patron God/dess?

I don't, but being raised Christian, I still believe I'm the God I was raised up with. However, I don't see him at all in the same way that I used to. I don't even think he had a gender - despite me calling God a 'he' out of habit. I see him now as loving, intelligent energy that is within and around all of us.

5. Do you work with a Pantheon?

I do not.

6. Do you use tarot, palmistry, or 
any other kind of divination?

Currently I use Tarot and Oracle. I have tried using a pendulum but have not really had any accurate results with it. I'm interested in expanding my knowledge though to be able to read runes, palmistry, and perhaps crystal ball scrying down the road. We'll see!

7. What are some of your favorite herbs to use in your practice? (if any)

Being a new witch still, I haven't really dove in too deep on herb knowledge yet, however I have made a sleep pillow with lavendar to enhance sleep and added sage and many different essential oils for protection. It's worked well for me but I haven't done much else.

8. How would you define your craft?

Being a Pisces, I'm very go-with-the-flow. I feel that same mentality goes with my craft. When I see something I feel pulled to, I incorporate it in my practice.

9. Do you curse? If not, do you accept others who do?

I do not, because I believe what I put out into the world will be reflected back onto me. I've been hurt many times by people and truthfully don't have many friends because of it, but I believe the treatment they have shown me will be reflected back to them in other ways throughout their life. I know from my own experience with my own wrong actions, I have also learned many lessons. So I don't see cursing in a positive light, but I also don't frown on it so long as those who curse do it under extreme circumstances (ex. Someone raped you, killed your friends, etc). Those who curse someone simply because they got their feelings hurt or broke their heart, I am strongly against that. But to each their own.

10. How long have you been practicing?

Just a little over a year.

11. Do you currently or have you ever had any familiars?

I'm not really sure to be honest. Does my dog count? Once I had a vision of a baby dragon hatching which may very well have been my familiar as I was entering spirituality, but I haven't perused discovering it because I don't fully understand it, so I'm unsure if it is still there.

12. Do you believe in Karma or
Reincarnation?

I believe in both. However, I believe reincarnation is optional. I think we come to this earth to gain experiences and learn things, and when we're done we can continue to grow in the astral realms but it may not be as quick as we would grow here on earth - or we can choose to come back for another lifetime. I feel like I kind of have a glimpse now that I've awoken of what I had planned to do here. But I'm still figuring it out as well as I go.

13. Do you have a magical name?

Aevis. I started going by Polaris for awhile recently for personal reasons, but Aevis has been a name that has resonated with me for quite a long time. I had actually thought I made it up, but it appears to be a Latin noun which means time/eternity. Perhaps it's no coincidence I thought of this ancient word. :)

14. Are you “out of the broom closet”?

Nope, and I don't know that I ever will be.. though I've left hints and I'm pretty sure my husband suspects it. I've left a few hints for my mom as she follows a similar path, but I don't think she suspects it.

15. What was the last spell you performed?

I've never consciously created a spell, but I did once by writing down the man of my dreams down to the very last detail. When I turned 21, this man came into my life and matched about 95% of everything I had written down. Words are powerful. We've been married for 4 years this coming October. ❤

16. Would you consider yourself knowledgeable?

In some areas, but I also feel a strong connection to my higher self which often ends up answering many of my own questions. 😊 Although my conscious self feels like a constant beginner, I feel my subconscious is filled with ancient wisdom that peeks out from time to time.

17. Do you write your own spells?

When I do start spell work, I will be using all my own spells. So yes.

18. Do you have a book of shadows?
If so, how is it written and/or set up?

I do! I have it organized into sections and once I finish it, I'll have a table of contents.

19. Do you worship nature?

Not as much as I wish I did, but I do feel a connection to it. I am very solitary and I feel a bit clustered where I live because of all the people surrounding. But once our finances are in order and we can move, I want to buy a little house out in the countryside where we have privacy. I want to be outside all the time and have my own garden oasis.

20. What is your favorite gemstone?

Probably Moldavite. Within the first few weeks I received it, I had a brief but amazing out of body experience. It has made me feel so much safer as well being a stone that protects you from negative energy and entities latching onto you. I also just love that it is quite literally stardust.

21. Do you use feathers, claws, fur, pelt, skeletons/bones, or any other animal body part for magical work?

I do love feathers! Peacock and ostrich feathers are my favorite. I have an ostrich feather attached to a pen I use for my BOS and my BOS is decorated with peacock feathers.

22. Do you have an altar?

A portable one, but where we live at the moment we don't really have the space for a full set up. Once we move though I would like to. ❤

23. What is your preferred element?

Water 🐳

24. Do you consider yourself an Alchemist?

I don't. I was interested in it for awhile, but when I tried to learn about it, it was a bit too complicated for me.

25. Are you any other type of magical practitioner besides a witch?

I'm hugely interested in astral projection and spirit work. I have had so many experiences with those unseen, and I feel like as humans we've become so disconnected with the beings around us. We've pretty well spoken them out of our existence saying they aren't real and are just in our imaginations.. it saddens me because as a whole, we've lost out on so many incredible experiences and relationships with them.. and how different our world would be if only the vast majority of us were aware.

26. What got you interested in witchcraft?

I've been drawn to it ever since I was a child (like many of us!) but I was never able to practice or get into it because of my Christian family. But I remember on Ebay back in the day I was looking at spells and spirit vessels and I was just SO intrigued. I almost bought a vessel with a djinn spirit, but never did because I was afraid of my parents would discover I brought someone into the house and I knew they would think he was evil because of their beliefs. So I waited until I lived on my own to delve into it again.

27. Have you ever performed a spell or ritual with the company of anyone who was not a witch?

Never.

28. Have you ever used ouija?

I haven't, and I probably never will to be honest unless I am very experienced in spirit work and astral travel and know how to handle unwanted entities. But until then, there's just too much surrounding it that I can't dive into right now.

29. Do you consider yourself a psychic?

I think everyone is psychic. We all have abilities. Whether we choose to pursue and develop them is really what determines that question. But yes, I do consider myself psychic, like I believe everyone else is in their own way.

30. Do you have a spirit guide? If so, what is it?

I believe I have two - a male and a female. The male I think may be a twin flame who's been watching over me, and the female I've seen in dreams several times that I feel was a best friend of mine at one time or perhaps even a sister. I just recently invited a Pegasus spirit to come live with me - I'm just waiting for her vessel to arrive but I am so excited to build a great relationship with her as well. ❤

31. What is something you wish someone had told you when you first started?

Protect yourself!! When I first dove into this, I got so excited and I could feel so much energy and I heard spirits talking all the time and I was having incredible dreams, but I feel like because I opened myself up SO much and didn't think to set up any kind of protection, negative entities also came in. Last year I had to battle them for months and I literally thought they were trying to possess me. They never did thankfully but it took a lot of help from my guides and archangels to get them out. I've found it a bit more difficult to hear spirits and connect, but I feel that's because I've been set up with protection until I can properly protect myself. So I am thankful for that.

32. Do you celebrate the Sabbats? If so which one is your favorite?

I don't, but I think in the future I would like to. Especially if I can find some witchy friends nearby to celebrate with.

33. Would you ever teach witchcraft to your children?

Absolutely. I wouldn't force it on them, but I also wouldn't let them live a life oblivious to the magick and spirits around them that most people are taught are imaginary.

34. Do you meditate?

I do.

35. What is your favorite season?

Autumn. Just when it is warm enough that you don't have to wear a heavy coat, but cold enough that the leaves turn into vibrant shades or yellow, red and orange.

36. What is your favorite type of magick to preform?

Currently, I don't perform any magic really, but I am focusing my energy on learning astral projection. I believe once I can learn that, everything I want to learn will come much easier. I would like to be a healer and learn to work with spirits.

37. How do you incorporate your spirituality into your daily life?

I do exercises to increase my focus. I also write in my book of shadows almost daily. I am always thanking the universe and my guides and angels for little surprises they leave me throughout the day, or messages they send me.

38. What is your favorite witchy movie?

I don't know of many to be honest. Does Harry Potter count? 😂 I'm a huge fan of the Chronicles of Narnia which I feel has many truths about magick, however it is unfortunate the villain is a witch.

39. What is your favorite witchy book, both fiction and non-fiction. Why?

Because I am still closeted, I don't have any witchy books but I do have many spiritual books. The Secret and The Magic by Rhonda Byrne are amazing and I think would help many witches understand manifestations your desires on a deeper level. The Celestial Prophesy is another amazing read for those who want to learn about energy work and how to become more intuitive.

40. What is the first spell you ever preformed? Successful or not.

The one I mentioned previously about how I unknowingly wrote a spell that manifested my husband.

41. What’s the craziest witchcraft-related thing that’s happened to you?

Literally manifesting my husband LOL. It's like he was customer ordered honestly. 😂

42. What is your favourite type of candle to use?

I LOVE scented candles, but realizing their toxic effects over the years, I've pulled away from using them. As for using candles in spells and rituals, I currently don't at the moment as fire makes me nervous.

43. What is your favorite witchy tool?

My Tarot and Oracle decks. ❤ I feel most of the time they give answers that really make sense and hit close to home.

44. Do you or have you ever made your own witchy tools?

Yes! I made my own rune set. 😄 I also started making a wand, but it's been a work in progress for awhile and I'm thinking now that it's a bit too large. I'm still figuring out what to do with it.

45. Have you ever worked with any magical creatures such as the fea or spirits?

I have not, but I hope to work with my Pegasus companion in the future through astral and dream work.

46. Do you practice color magic?

I'm not really sure what that is to be honest! *goes to look it up*

47. Do you or have you ever had a witchy teacher or mentor of any kind?

I don't sadly. Part of me wishes I did or at least have a friend to share experiences and exchange tips to for different things, but I think once I become well trained in astral travel, I will connect with my guides and hopefully they will help me develop more. What better mentor to have than someone who lives and breathes magick? :)

48. What is your preferred way of shopping for witchcraft supplies?

Online shopping is my best friend. 😉 That's not to say I don't support my local metaphysical shops. However, I've found over the years that the things I can buy online are 100 times cheaper than buying from anywhere near me. So I will usually shop online because of the value - even if it takes a month or two to arrive which has happened in some circumstances.

[seeksstaronmewni]

Saving the Day before Bedtime in Style: The Powerpuff Girls Then vs. Now

THE CITY OF TOWNSVILLE!

I remember growing up a little with The Powerpuff Girls, namely the pre-2002 episodes on CN and a promo for the show on my VHS of Animaniacs: Wakko’s Wish. That show is a part of my childhood. My sister had an Easy-Bake Powerpuff Girls “Cookie Makin’ Bake Set” and a Burger King 2002 figure of Bubbles. The length of the series’ run is now 20 years old, though the franchise as a whole is over 25 years old, if you count A Sticky Situation.

In the past, I watched little of PPG because I neither understood nor appreciated action at a very young age; the same went for Samurai Jack & Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003), though I did watch Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008), which included a former PPG writer, Brian Larsen. Now, “Cartoon Cartoons” like @crackmccraigen‘s Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, Dexter’s Laboratory, Grim & Evil, Courage the Cowardly Dog, The Marvelous Misadventures of Flapjack, Ed Edd ‘n Eddy, Chowder... I grew up on those. I remember little about 2 Stupid Dogs (now officially available on MOD Disc DVD) and Captain Planet. I didn’t see the PPG marathon in 2009 with the final McCracken-produced episode so far, The Powerpuff Girls Rule!!! (my sister watched it, though). I began to return to PPG as I saw excerpts from the show on Netflix in late 2015, prior to the reboot. Tara Strong’s tweet of dismay, I think, was how I heard of the new PPG episodes.

The first time “Painbow” was encored (that is 2nd airing), during like 6 in the morning, I began to love Ms. Keane, their teacher, who’s voiced by Jennifer Hale (I knew her best for voicing Gladys, Billy’s Mom, in Grim & Evil / The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy, whose voice is nearly identical to Keane’s). What I love about Keane is that she’s sweet, somewhat perky but usually mellow, and kind, in addition to her voice, big blue eyes, and hair style, that I find to be attractive, but ultimately she is very nurturing to her students, like a mommy. Ms. Keane is why, in 2016, I became really into The Powerpuff Girls... and, including regard for the former CN Studios team, hyped for the return of Genndy Tartakovsky’s Samurai Jack (season 5, which featured Craig Kellman and other familiar creatives). However, though The Powerpuff Girls is my personal favorite of Craig McCracken and I grew up somewhat more on Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends, I do feel that Wander Over Yonder is Craig’s greatest achievement as it excels at not only humor--both slapstick and... well... “modern”--but also some very important life lessons and ultimately the heart.

Now, many PPG fans were upset with the new episodes for many reasons that were, in my opinion, nostalgically incorrect. Personally, like many fans, I mostly prefer the former art styles of the series (specifically the 2002 movie and episodes, as well as the following designs by art director Paul Stec and character designers Carey Yost & Stef Choi) but I also highly admire @cheyennecurtisart for adding more defining details to our favorite crime-fighting and now ex-kindergarten students (and also for designing my other favorite woman, Star Butterfly, whose title show @crackmccraigen, creator of The Powerpuff Girls, wanted to produce for CN). The main reason for the hate is apparently that the new actresses replaced the former ones for the title characters. They are fairly good voices, but I still prefer the former, namely Tara Strong as Bubbles (No offense, Kristin Li, but, to me, it feels impossible to turn down Tara’s acting). Natalie Palamides as Buttercup is probably the closest-resembling to the original voices, but she still stands out differently; likewise Ms. Keane’s voice, though akin to the voice direction of Jennifer Hale by Craig McCracken and later Colette Sunderman, also has an accent that stands out, while Tom Kane is generally true to the nature of Utonium’s voice. Of course, once the casting and/or voice direction changes, maybe Cavadini, Daily and Strong will return. Also, E.G. Daily said in an interview that Cavadini, Daily & Strong originally did record for, I believe, Escape from Monster Island, until someone else replaced them; if bonus features exist on future season releases of the Jennings-Boyle PPG episodes, then an original dialogue recording track for the episode should totally be on it.

WHAT LOOKS DIFFERENT ABOUT THE POWERPUFF GIRLS?

Another reason for dislike from PPG fans is all about the art direction. Although @eusong Lee worked with Craig Kellman on Storybots and current art director Roman Laney designed and painted backgrounds for Craig McCracken’s Wander Over Yonder, their art direction resembles that of a more streamline, smooth, round, futuristic, not-so-cartoony look contrasting with the simplistic, storybook-like art direction of Craig Kellman, the cartoony but simple art direction of @donshank​, and the defining and Hanna-Babera like art direction of Mike Moon, Paul Stec and Sue Mondt. The buildings in the Jennings-Boyle episodes are more straight, detailed and lineless, whereas the former designs were more extreme and exaggerated with building shapes.

Comparing the designs above of Andy Bialk & Stef Choi (whose designs were of many shapes and sizes; former monsters had sometimes simple but also very wild designs)...

...with those of Alan Stewart & Steve Lambe and Dean Heezen & Carlos Nunez reveals great contrast. The character design of current Townies, like the backgrounds, are more round-edged and of more simplistic, specific shapes and sizes. The monsters are different too; props are more realistic and explosions usually look simpler and more streamlined, round-edged, etc. Also, character & prop outlines aren’t really thick, which many CN/H-B cartoons are know for having. As the current designs from Memory Lane of Pain show, the Mayor and Robin Schneider are seen, along with an elderly woman who looks similar to the usual one in former episodes and a kid who somewhat resembles Mitch; next to those 2, there’s also a big guy whose model appears... shrunk for some reason.

Now, some Season 8-9 designs look a little more familiar, like the disguise character of an alien in Never Been Blissed, Locan Logan. He looks fairly akin to the works of Craig McCracken. Could the alien be disguising himself as Mac (from Foster’s) at an older age?

Not belittling @cheyennecurtisart‘s contributions, character designs developed for The Powerpuff Girls Movie are some of the finest ever done for the series, lead by Carey Yost; these designs were eventually implemented into the series, supervised by @andybialk and Chris Reccardi and designed by Stef Choi. Ultimately, though, @cheyennecurtisart and Carey Yost plus Andy Bialk (2002-2004 only for the latter two), did my favorites.

As you can see here, Man Up 2: Still Man-ing was the one of the few current episodes where the Mayor’s mouth is visible... but it wasn’t the first time. Paul Rudish storyboarded the Mayor with his mouth for transition in Boogie Frights; some official models of him (as well as a comic book cover) show the mouth as well. It’s unorthodox, but honestly I’m not hating on the new creatives for that. In most of the episodes excluding Man Up 2, it’s probably a mistake, since in those episodes he also does the mustache lip-sync thing he tends to do.

On the bright side regarding nostalgically correct art direction, the Pokey Oaks flashback in The Wrinklegruff Gals (art direction by Eusong Lee) was very true to that of Paul Stec (I’d think that Ms. Keane’s in the first shot, but these shots are 1.78:1 and not “letterbox” widescreen like the DVD covers of most CN shows in the last decade claim them to be in). They included students Mitch Mitchelson, Elmer Sglue, Robin Schneider, Harry Pitt, Suzie Jenkins, and Clara (the African girl in purple dress, called by Ms. Keane in ’Twas the Fight Before Christmas; in other episodes Jennifer Hale voiced her and the other dark-skinned girl in a pink dress). The new art creatives were so good at that, that I wondered if they’d contribute to season 5 of Samurai Jack. Speaking of that, the series finale of Samurai Jack, EPISODE CI (as did EPISODE II and Comic Issue 19), referenced The City of Townsville with the city of dogs that Jack saved! I also recently noticed a background from The Powerpuff Girls Meat Fuzzy Lumpkins in Aqua Teen Hunger Force, cleverly called “Powerpuff Mall” (tweeted here), and the episode “Universal Remonster” features a PPG with a mohawk on a Spring Break Cancun shirt!

Also, there’s the reference to Abracadaver in Memory Lane of Pain, where Blossom realizes how different she looked then and a re-orchestration of the PPG’s theme plays in the background, as in the new intro itself. The shot in reference is a digitally traced, cleaned-up version of a shot with models by Andy Bialk & Chris Battle.

Relatively, former character designer @chrisbattleart​ designed for the PPGs in the Teen Titans GO! episode “TTG vs PPG” which were true to the improved designs of @cheyennecurtisart​...

...though they sometimes resemble the pre-2002 models, which he reflected in the last Craig McCracken-produced episode, The Powerpuff Girls Rule!!! As with both specials, the PPGs have thick outlines & black-colored mouths and are in model-rigged or “puppet-ed” animation.

Also relatively, Wander Over Yonder, which referenced both PPGs & Samurai Jack, featured @lambebeardo, who storyboarded the PPG-referencing episode The Boy Wander, who did some character design on season 8 PPG episodes.

The new theme song implements the general PPG theme within, as I said before, but there’s more nostalgia than that: the extended version of the current intro/theme song, “Who’s Got the Power?”, opens up like the original intro, with the original Tom Kenny narration, score and certain sounds. “Sugar, Spice, and Everything Nice. These were the ingredients chosen to create the perfect little girl, but Professor Utonium accidentally added an extra ingredient to the concoction...” Yes, except that Utonium didn’t break the bottle of CHEMICAL X by throwing his fist in success, though; Mojo rammed him into it. That is an error of continuity, which some episodes have, namely The Power of Four (regarding a rival of Utonium, Netronium, creating the perfect little boy)... though there is one thing that that episode did right...

TV PUPPET PALS PUPPETS! These character originally appeared in a few episodes like Mommy Fearest, and were created by either Genndy Tartakovsky and/or @crackmccraigen for The Justice Friends, whose pilot was about TV Puppet Pals. Once again, some nostalgia is preserved; thanks to Prop Designer Nathan Alexander Rico (and/or the act’s character designers/storyboard artists)!

In case no one noticed: I refer to the current seasons of The Powerpuff Girls, produced and directed by Nick Jennings & Bob Boyle, as the 7th, 8th, and 9th seasons, since, to me, it’s still the same show; despite different art direction and other styles. The other reason is that some episodes did call back to former events, like I said about Memory Lane of Pain.

Another thing that seems to be lacking in The Powerpuff Girls is the visually cartoony stuff. Memory Lane of Pain is the only episode to use a “pow” cloud as the Rubber Bandit streaks out of a shot. This was common in earlier episodes, often accented visually with words like “POW”, “ZIP”, etc. In most current episodes, characters run out of a shot more realistically.

WHAT’S WITH THE ANIMATION?

Additionally, most of the animation direction, though still with Robert Alvarez, Randy Myers and Richard Collado, is pervasively slow-paced, compared to the pre-2016 episodes, namely those of seasons 5-6 and, of course, The Powerpuff Girls Movie, on which Genndy Tartakovsky was the main animation director. Unlike most current CN Studios programs, however, Samurai Jack season 5 did its “sheet timing” very well, particularly in EPISODE XCVIII and its scene of Ashi owning a whole army of orcs (Sheet Timing by Rob Renzetti & Robert Alvarez; storyboarded & written by Bryan Andrews & Genndy Tartakovsky).

As with that and most CN Studios programs, both Samurai Jack and The Powerpuff Girls have animation that is checked by CN’s Sandy & Julie Benenati. Speaking of creatives still involved, there’re at least 25 people still working on The Powerpuff Girls just as they did decades ago... including @joltumblingart​, a former BG/Prop designer! At least us nostalgia-craving fans can appreciate that! (By the way, if you crave classic CN Studios projects, you can watch the ENTIRE series of Samurai Jack here!)

WHAT OF THE NEW GIRLS AND GUYS ON THE SHOW?

Now, I can say that some of the new creatives could serve The Powerpuff Girls well:

Character designer @cheyennecurtisart did designs for Star vs. the Forces of Evil; the show’s art direction (namely season 1/Joshua & Justin Parpan, but also including Israel Sanchez, who all worked on Wander Over Yonder) is similar to the works of @crackmccraigen and closer to the Mike Moon / Paul Stec styles I prefer, specifically elements of background/location design and character design. Some designs of Princess Bluebelle in the Emmy-winning episode Once Upon a Townsville seem to resemble the looks of Star Butterfly. Also, SvTFOE location designer Larry Murphy did background design for PPG episodes “Save Mojo” and “Substitute Creature”. A number of creatives from SvTFOE should work on current PPGs too, regarding art direction/design/storyboarding action, in addition to former creatives involved with Samurai Jack (including season 5) and Paul Rudish’s Mickey Mouse, including clean-up artist king Robert Lacko. Relatively, SvTFOE location designer @peteremmerich served as the art director on Netflix’s Harvey Street Kids, whose background design is very much like the PPG locations under Paul Stec’s art direction.

Character designer @lambebeardo did storyboards for Disney’s Wander Over Yonder, created and executively produced by @crackmccraigen, as mentioned before, including “The Boy Wander”, which ends ala “The Day is Saved!” segment. There’re 2 specific creatives for a season 7 (or, in reboot terms, season 1) PPG episode...

Power Up Puff features storyboard artist Roque Ballesteros, who storyboards for Star Wars: Forces of Destiny and did animation/layout on CN’s Enter Mode 5 at Ghostbot. One could compare that to Bryan Andrews who did storyboards for Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003-2005) at Cartoon Network Studios, where Power Up Puff was produced; Brian Larsen, who worked with Bryan Andrews, also did storyboards for PPG and Samurai Jack, as well as (the non-Cartoon Network Studios) Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008-2019)...

...and then there’s animation director Shaun Cashman, who did animation/sheet timing for another CN Studios original, Genndy Tartakovsky’s Sym-Bionic Titan. Cashman also supervised the timing on Disney’s Star vs. the Forces of Evil and produced Grim & Evil AKA The Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy for CN. I think that there’s some good animation timing in Power Up Puff, which’s rare due to the way CN Studios and SMIP do the animation these days.

One episode I intend to note here is Save the Date, which’s about Ms. Keane, as was Keen on Keane. A few aspects on design are covered below. One is about the title cards as shown above (which uses props/characters to reflect the episode’s subject/theme) and below.

These cards swipe to the right, rather than having the PPGs beam by and then reveal the storyboard artist/writer and art director. Originally the text was still, until after the movie and they’d zoom in slowly, not italicized and even glowing the tiniest bit. Also, some of the writers aren’t storyboarding, and the art director’s listed on the credits.

Lastly, of course, every single episode is directed just by Nick Jennings and Bob Boyle, aside from a supervising director. Can’t someone from Samurai Jack, Wander Over Yonder, Star vs. the Forces of Evil direct instead? Often, an animation director like Robert Alvarez or Randy Myers would direct The Powerpuff Girls, Samurai Jack, Grim & Evil, etc. For that matter, someone on the show should get, like, Genndy Tartakovsky (currently at Sony Pictures Animation) to direct. High-octane action and slapstick are a big part of his direction.

Since the Season 7 episode People Pleaser, @deanheezen is the main character designer, in place of @cheyennecurtisart​; @carlosluisnunez​ still contributes, but usually Dean Heezen or Gordon Hammond (and sometimes Steve Lambe and Alan Lambe) are the only designers for an episode. From the episode Save the Date onward, Ms. Keane has only one bang, when she usually has 2, though there is one shot in Keen on Keane where she has one bang, (in various shots of the episode, she has 3 bangs).

In Save the Date, Ms. Keane’s fashion is different from hers in Keen on Keane, which was modified in Octi-Gone. Also, Keane didn’t walk well in high heels in Save the Date, unlike Keen on Keane.

Pertaining to certain fashion, like Keen on Keane, more of Ms. Keane’s body shape is exercised, namely on her legs. Unlike Keen on Keane Ms. Keane’s calves aren’t as obvious if [one of] her legs are straight. Usually, her legs appear shorter as well... kind of stubby, which I think is cute. In some shots in Save the Date, Ms. Keane’s hands are sharper-looking, as were the designs by Carey Yost and Stef Choi.

Relative to both animation and design, compare Ms. Keane fighting the giant, radioactive ant in Save the Date with the aforementioned sequences in Samurai Jack EPISODE XCVIII:

Now, in these 2 shots, you can see more detail to the design/form of the legs in action. If Carey Yost did the designs of Ms. Keane like those they did in Keen on Keane, the look and form to Keane’s legs in action would appear maybe somewhat stylized, but far more realistic.

In the fight in Save the Date, there’re a few pieces of fast-paced animation, but only a few as, like I said before, animation in CN shows these days are usually slow-paced. In Samurai Jack, of course, there’s much balance between both fast and slow-paced animation which helps convey more realistic (and intense) action. Robert Alvarez was an animation director with Sherri Wheeler (supervising) & Randy Myers for Save the Date and did sheet timing with Rob Renzetti for Samurai Jack EPISODE XCVIII.

Now, like Samurai Jack, Ms. Keane here shows good form in an action pose. The lines in the PPG shot are similar to the shot of a falling catapulted rock in Samurai Jack EPISODE III, too.

Relative to Samurai Jack EPISODE XCVIII, the Dexter’s Laboratory episode Dexter Dodgeball has a very nice sequence of well-timed, balanced traditional animation including much fast-paced animation; Dexter’s hair animates somewhat as well. In addition to being filmed and animated with cels, the timing/animation direction gives to moments of this scene movie-level quality of traditional animation. “Additional Animation Direction” is claimed to be done by Robert Alvarez, @crackmccraigen and Rob Renzetti.

Ms. Keane’s homes vary in the series: Dave Dunnet designed 74A in Keen on Keane and another house in ‘Twas the Fight Before Christmas, while Santino Lascano & Clark Snyder revealed a much bigger home for her in Save the Date.

Speaking of location, current episodes have new places like The Snooty Rose and Penguin Pete’s...

...but what about Pete’s-a Pizza, Malph’s and La Donut King Donut?

One interesting thing to note about Save the Date is a matter of size (this’s also the first time in the entire series that sweet Ms. Keane cries). Of course, she’s not the only one with concerns of size.

The PPGs themselves were made to be giant by Mojo Jojo, too, in What’s the Big Idea?, one of the last McCracken-produced episodes (and starring @donshank as a protest leader. He’s the Townie in that fallen building).

The other thing notable about this episode... “WHAT ABOUT THE GIANT ANT” in Bubblevision? Of course, that was a different ant that looked more realistic and just gnawed on stuff at random, but I like that more. The giant radioactive ant in Save the Date was only pushed back by the heat ray of the PPGs, but in Bubblevision the giant ant totally burned up.

One thing I don’t like about the credits--aside from lacking BiS’s popular hit, The Super Secret City of Soundsville Song, which’s the PPGs’ End Title [Theme] Song--is that they don’t specify the voice of the episode’s lesser characters (such as “Todd”, who kind of sounds like Tom Kenny... just a hint of Commander Peepers in his voice). Of course, Samurai Jack season 5 sometimes did this too. Typically, they don’t credit sound designers or foley artists/recordists, either; at least The Powerpuff Girls Movie gave credit to Joel Valentine and his team for Sound Creation and Design and foley.

Now, there’re approaches to character design in current episode that I do enjoy. In this shot from Buttercup vs. Math, Blossom recoils from intense emotion with a very funny yet simple face.

Prior to that, of course, the former emotions are also very wild and creative...

...but that doesn’t mean that Andy Bialk, Carey Yost & @chrisbattleart​ didn’t do that either (though rarely), as this shot from A Very Special Blossom proves. Art Director @donshank​ and Models guy Carey Yost, like many great CN Studios creatives, were formerly involved with Spumco, particularly on The Ren & Stimpy Show, which could account for this wild, somewhat detailed design.

Unlike most of Craig McCracken’s former works, except for Wander Over Yonder, character reactions in design weren’t usually as exaggerated as they are in the new PPG episodes. Such design extremes tend not to apply to Ms. Keane as she’s rather mellow and more realistic with emotional reactions, and usually not in grave danger or needful otherwise, compared to another woman designed by Cheyenne Curtis, Star Butterfly, who tends to be highly poignant with emotion (in most ways I love her more than Ms. Keane because Star’s been through a lot, needful and emotional).

In very rare cases, though, like these shots in Keen on Keane and Speed Demon, Ms. Keane shows catchlights in a closeup, which may contribute to either intensely poignant emotion and/or close-up detail (including lighting). Her look in Keen on Keane (Carey Yost) does suggest a needful emotion, but not too exaggerated.

As I said before, I don’t care for the current art direction as much, except for @cheyennecurtisart‘s part; eventually Dean Heezen took over until Gordon Hammond started doing all of the character design, which aren’t really much different. Some others don’t like the designs currently with The Powerpuff Girls, including one artist who decided to re-design and re-animate the promoted scene from Man Up. The designs of the PPGs look very much like the SSN 1-4 models, and the rest vary; some resemble Andy Bialk/Stef Choi or Stephanie Ramirez. The backgrounds are very detailed but similar to the original art direction.

Tom Kenny’s famous, lovable narration that began and ended all pre-2016 episodes has been absent in most current PPG episodes (except for a few, like Painbow, Little Octi Lost, and Fashion Forward). Even worse is a talking snowman voiced by Maurice LaMarche narrating instead--and on-screen--which is one of the major crimes to The Powerpuff Girls in their second Christmas episode, You’re a Good Man, Mojo Jojo. “I BEGIN AND END EACH EPISODE OF POWERPUFF GIRLS, ME, THE NARRATOR!” he claimed at the end of Los Dos Mojos. Next to Scaramouche, Spongebob and Commander Peepers, his narration on The Powerpuff Girls is one of his finest and most memorable roles.

Also missing are more familiar and specific Townies like the Chief of Police, the Pokey Oaks students (excluding the flashback scene), Floyd & Llyod... Also, since Chuck McCann died, I wonder who’d voice the Amoeba Boys now. Perhaps former creative Lou Romano could, since he was their original voice in the pilot/Craig’s student film A Sticky Situation. Some creatives and production staff on the show made cameos, namely @donshank (voiced first by Tom Kenny and then Shank himself), who, himself, served as a supportive character in What’s The Big Idea? leading a protestant group against the PPGs. This Easter egg is rare in cartoons these days (though a recent Teen Titans Go! episode put @chrisbattleart and other creatives in a city crowd), but the episode Electric Buttercup implemented creatives like @cheyennecurtisart, Nick Jennings & Bob Boyle, Kyle Neswald, and others in “THE ROCK & ROLL HALL OF SHAME”.

In general, the approach to sound design on the show is a bit quieter but uses more Disney sound effects and other typical Hacienda Post sound design, as well as aural gags thematically associated with noting a certain subject (e.g. a cash register opening and ringing accents a thematic element pertaining to the Monopoly-esq game in Rainy Day, as money is a relative/thematic element). Although Hacienda Post (namely the team) has always been involved with the series since 1998, the original “Sound Creation and Design”, debuting on the episode Crime 101, was by Joel Valentine (Samurai Jack, Big City Greens, Wander Over Yonder), one of my favorite sound designers, who was only credited on The Powerpuff Girls Movie; episode credits would mention only Twenty-First Century Entertainment, Inc. for “Sound Editing”, though they obviously did sound design and foley too. Whether or Joel or all Hacienda, foley members are usually uncredited on the show, yet they bring our favorite Townies to aural life. Joel used his funny little castanet sound to accent many emotions, and the “SINGLE MAGIC WAND HIT” among other sfx to accent the PPGs beaming away. The classic H-B/Universal explosion often accented big feet, impacts and explosions, as well as the original title reveal in the intro; Joel would use some more tweaked variants of that sound too, and, next to Skywalker Sound, Joel is the only one whose consistent use of that sound excuses the general cheesy nature of that sound. Of course, in my opinion “ROCKET LAND SPEEDER: START AND AWAY”, which often accented the PPGs flying (usually for relatively fast/increasing speeds), seemed particularly exaggerated, but Hacienda Post seems to avoid overusing that.

Also, the music style often is more pervasive compared to former episodes, and Mike Reagan did some very nice cartoon-y music, like in the beginning of Rainy Day, though the style feels different from that of Thomas Chase & Steve Rucker in episodes like Pet Feud. The stylized sound of horn sections and strong techno beats in the score by James L. Venable (AKA “DJ Avalanche”) are very cool but aren’t so common in the current episodes, though respectively the action doesn’t live up as well as former episodes, like Live and Let Dynamo.

Near the end of this post, I note that I found great value in The Ren & Stimpy Show as many creatives on it/at Spumco worked on The Powerpuff Girls, Star vs. the Forces of Evil, Samurai Jack, Spongebob Squarepants, The Iron Giant, The Twisted Tales of Felix the Cat, Adventures of Sonic the Hedgehog, and many other great animation, including a gem of a Cartoon Network “Minisode”, Buy One, Get One Free*. My love for the work of John Kricfalusi/Spumco boosted with [adult swim]’s airing of the Yogi Bear/Ranger Smith episode “Boo Boo Runs Wild” on August 13th, 2016 A.D.

To conclude: The Powerpuff Girls is an iconic show that deserves to still have some design that feels signature to it, over 25 years after the pilot, @crackmccraigen​‘s CalArts student film A Sticky Situation (originally with a mildly profane name for the trio, though Paul Rudish came up with their official name). In my honest opinion, there’re 5 original people whom I wish and pray would contribute to The Powerpuff Girls again: Carey Yost (with or without @chrisbattleart​), Tara Strong, Dave Dunnet (with or without @shinypinkbottle​), and at least Joel Valentine. Honestly, regarding Star vs. the Forces of Evil, I hope and pray that Joel Valentine, Genndy Tartakovsky’s band of excellent writers/storyboard artists, and even @crackmccraigen​ could/would contribute to that franchise’s future media. Additionally, the new creatives in season 5 of Samurai Jack, like Dustin d’Arnault, David Krentz, @stephendestefano and Amanda Qian Li, should contribute to these shows too. Again, I also suggest that the former voice of The Amoeba Boys, Lou Romano (in A Sticky Situation), should replace the late Chuck McCann. While Craig’s first words to me suggest that he may not return, more or less, to PPGs, still at least members of his team deserve to, and who wouldn’t want to come back? Meanwhile, at least Craig’s working on new stuff to be announced, including Kid Cosmic for Netflix.

I leave you with not only a petition image to suggest ways to bring nostalgia back to our favorite kindergarten crime-fighters, but also IMDb lists of appropriate creatives for future media of PPG, future media of Dexter’s Laboratory, and even future media of Samurai Jack (pre-Season 5 events to fill a more or less “50-year” story gap). Spread the petition (and/or IMDb lists), and perhaps our childhood days will be saved--thanks to fans like you! GO, POWERPUFF! [z, z, z-z-z-zuuu...] *cue H-B swirling star* (also a Tumblr post)

[purplesurveys]

1211

A

Art: When was the last time you painted something? I don’t remember; maybe about a few weeks before the breakup. I haven’t really been into painting since, but now that I’m over it I should probably dabble in it again soon.

Adventure: When was the last time you really felt alive, and what were you doing? Last Sunday! Watched the Sowoozoo show with Angela and Hans. We set up a huge tent at the rooftop and had fairy lights all around and so much beer and soju and so. much. food. She and Hans ended up bringing most of the food we got home. It really felt like throwing a party with a million other people and it was SO so ridiculously fucking fun.

Allergies: What is one thing that you are allergic to? Slightly allergic to grass.

Answers: What is one question you would like an answer to? If I’ll ever have a family of my own.

Age: What has been your favorite age so far? Hmm, maybe 16. 23 has also been a blast so far; I hope it stays the same.

B

What month is your birthday? April.

Have you ever played house inside a big box? Possibly as a kid. It doesn’t stick out in my memory though.

Are you boisterous? I can, especially if I feel enthusiastic about the situation.

Have you ever dated a bad boy? Nope.

Name one thing you like that is blue: The ocean. Not being in it, but being near it at the beach. < Ooh same.

C

Cinnamon--yay or nay? Yay, I guess. As long as it’s not excessive.

Chocolate: do you love it? I like chocolate-flavored things. Chocolate bars themselves not so much.

Name one favorite type of candy. Gummy bears or worms.

Children: Name one favorite thing to do with kids while babysitting. I only ever ‘babysat’ my much younger cousins; and when I did that more than a decade ago I just enjoyed playing games and toys with them since I too had been a kid who just had to babysit them.

Carefree: Are you carefree? I know how to let go when I want to, but I think most of the time I prefer to be careful and cautious about most things.

D

When was the last time you danced like no one was watching? LOL last Sunday when I drank too much and danced to Boy With Luv, and apparently Angela got it on tape as well. I haven’t checked the video yet and probably never will.

Do you daydream? Quite a lot, yeah.

Dreams: What is one of your dreams? To learn how to cook is one, hahahaha.

What is one thing you are currently dreading? We have an event tomorrow and my team is going to have to host it, so I’ll have to go over my script tonight so that I don’t end up sputtering and stuttering.

Name something delicious. Brownies!

E

Would you ride an elephant if given the opportunity? I have before. I’d do it again but make sure it’s done in an ethical environment.

Do you live life on the edge? Nah. I mean I’m bad at saving and VERY GOOD at spending my money, but that’s probably the most reckless I’ll ever get. Playing safe might as well be my middle name.

Name something you like to eat: French fries.

Do you believe in everlasting life? No.

Name something that comes easy to you. Continued from sometime this week, idek when. Anything that has to do with my reflexes. I can respond pretty quickly.

F

Name a fragrance you like. I like fruity, summery scents, for one.

Are you a free spirit? Eh, not so much.

Are you fickle? I wouldn’t say so.

Are you hiding your feelings from someone? Nope.

Name one flavor you like. Cookies and cream.

G

Are you gentle? This is too vague for me to answer.

Are you generous? I feel like I can say that, yeah.

Name something green. Eyes can be green.

Name a famous giant. My mom was watching something recently about a wrestler named Andre the Giant. He really was. < That’s a good answer :D I’ll just borrow it lol.

Are you a girl? Yessss.

H

Are you generally a happy person? I think more so these days, yeah!

Do you honor the holiness of the day? Idk what this means but if it’s supposed to be related to religion, I don’t really practice.

Do you believe in Heaven? Not the way the Bible describes it but the idea of reuniting with my loved ones when I die is pretty comforting, if that’s what ‘heaven’ is supposed to be, if it exists.

Name one thing you are hoping for. I’d like to be able to go to concerts again soon.

Name one thing you hate. That weekends are only two days long.

I

Imagination: Write the name of one of your imaginary friends from when you were younger. Katrina. Issues: Name one magazine you subscribe to, if there is any. I never did that.

Internet: Name one website you visit often. These days, Facebook.

Itinerary: List one place you would like to visit. Malta.

Interest: Name one thing that interests you. Cooking.

J

Are you joyful? Again, I think I am generally happier these days so yeah.

When was the last time you were filled with joy? Last Thursday when I finally got the BTS Meal from McDonald’s, lollllll.

Can you jump high? As a kid, yeah. We had a childhood garter game that kind of made it a requirement for you to be good at jumping, so that served as practice for me. Idk if I’m still as good, though.

Name one girl's name that starts with a J that you like. Julia.

Name one boy's name that starts with a J that you like. Jacob.

K

Have you ever been kissed? Sure.

Have you ever feared that you would be killed? Yup.

Are you kind? I wanna think so, but idk. This is a question you’ll have to ask other people about, not for me to answer for myself.

Who is your kindred spirit? Angela.

Name one thing you liked as a kid. Chewing gum.

L

Do you love someone? My close friends.

Do you live out loud? I try to make the most out of everything life hands me and enjoy life as long as I can, if that’s what you’re asking.

Do you read food labels? Only when I’m bored and have nothing to do at the dining table. I never read it to actually know the nutritional value of what I’m eating.

Name something local that you like. Balut.

List one thing you like to do at the lake. I don’t think I’ve even been at a lake before...I’ve seen ones, but haven’t been up close.

M

Do you like...

monkeys: Sure.

music: More so these days.

musicals: I never liked them.

mansions: I mean...I guess? I love house tours so if I can get to go around a big ass mansion I feel like I’d have a good time.

miracles: Not so sure I believe in those.

N

Do you want something....

new: I’m well aware that I can be quite materialistic, so yeah I’m always wanting something new.

nice: Too vague.

neat: Vague again.

never-before-seen: As long as it doesn’t hurt anyone, sure.

nature-inspired: Idk.

O

How old are you? 23.

What is the last great opportunity you missed? Erm...my 20s? Because of Covid? if it counts lol.

Name one thing you like that's orange (besides oranges). I don’t like oranges, but I do like Hayley Williams’ Riot! era orange hair.

Are you open? In surveys I definitely am. < Agreed.

Name something odd. Can’t really think of any at the moment.

P

Are you...

patient: Too much for my own good.

perky: With the right people, yeah.

pale: Far from it. I live in a place with sunny weather all year round.

peaceful: For the most part but I can provoke people if the need be.

passionate: Not always, but sure it shows up occasionally.

Q

Do you own a...

quilt

quail

queen-size bed

quill pen

book of questions ^ I don’t have any of those things.

R

Do you like to...

run

rave

riddle

rhyme

rap: If I memorize a verse/song, then yes.

S

Are you ever...

shy

sensitive

secretive

sure

stable

T

Are you...

ticklish

trouble

tall

thankful

tactful

U

Have you ever...

ridden a unicyle

used an umbrella

visited an uncle

been undecided

played a ukelele

V

Do you own a...

violin

vehicle

violet dress

vampire cape

veil for a wedding dress

W

What is something you wish for? Longer weekends.

Wonder: When was the last time you opened your eyes in wonder? I guess this morning? When I realized it was finally the weekend and I could stay in bed and relax and sleep in if I wanted.

Name five words you like. Let’s just go with poignant, which is what I always answer. I don’t feel like thinking of four other words.

What is something you wonder? What my own place would look like.

Name someone who thinks you are worthless. I hope there isn’t anyone; but my mom did make me feel like this for a long time. Either she’s stopped it or I’ve grown completely immune to it – I can’t really tell the difference.

X

Have you ever...

played a xylophone

had an x-ray

enjoyed exercise

had excision surgery

been excluded

Y

Are you young? I think 23 is still quite young, yeah.

Are you youthful? Idk lol my stress level these days makes me feel like I’m 35.

Did you have a big yard growing up? No.

What did you do yesterday? Had what was probably my busiest day at work yet.

Do you like yams? I mean I like ube cheesecake, but that’s as far as I’ll go when it comes to yam.

Z

Zeal: What are you passionate about? My work, to an extent.

Zing: Do you like raspberry lemonade? I’ve never tried it. I think.

What's your favorite zoo animal? I don’t go to zoos.

Do you own anything from Zales? No and idk what that is.

List a name that starts with a Z. Zia.

[leukocytosis-lives]

if you wanna play games - NSFWish - (3/3)

NSFW bc f u c k

SEXYTIMES EXPERIENCES

1. How many people have you had sex with? 8.

2. Can you remember the names of everyone you've slept with? Yes.

3. With whom did you first do the sexytimes? Was it good? He had a three letter name and no, it wasn't good, BC he put all his weight on my chest til I struggled to breathe and he made me do all the work. Wouldn't even try to get me off.

4. What's the best sex you've ever had? Hm... I dunno I’ve had some good times.

5. What's the worst sex you've ever had? See question 3 of this set.

7. Where's the most unusual place you've had sex? A car probably. 8. Where's the most unusual place you've masturbated? Also a car. 9. Have you ever been caught doing the sexytimes? Yeah. 10. If you masturbate, when did you start, and how? I can’t remember. So fucking long ago. ~trauma~ caused hypersexuality VERY early and I’m uncomfortable discussing that. 11. Have you ever been caught masturbating? yes. QUEER SHIT

11. How would you describe your sexuality using only adjectives (describing words-busy, fluffy, squishy, etc.)? fluid. 12. Have you ever been in a queer relationship? i mean, yeah? 13. Have you ever been in a straight relationship? IF we go by how i used to identify before i realized being trans is a thing, then yeah? 14. How and when did you realise you weren't straight? i was crushing on a chick and a dude at the same time. 15. Are you out to everyone you know? not everyone, no. 16. Where do you meet queer folks to date? Do you find it difficult?| Never sought that specifically. But if this relationship falls through, then yeah I’m absolutely going to focus on queer spaces because uhhhhh it’ll feel safer. 17. If your parents know about your sexuality, how did they react I don’t think i ever came out about my sexuality to them, just gender... and they were VERY upset about that and blamed the US????

18. Does your best friend know about your sexuality? How did they react? my best friend is my partner and he hasn’t really given a shit about *what* i’m into. 19. Describe your first queer kiss. i was 13, it was spin the bottle. i still thought i was a girl and i missed her face. but i met my mark on the guy.

20. What's the queerest shit you've ever done? I don’t know - exist?

LET'S GET PHYSICAL

21. Are you happy with your body? Nah. Phantom dick syndrome is a bitch. Dysphoria is a bitch. 22. What's the raddest part of your bod, and why? I have a nice face. A nice mouth, perfect for pleasing others. 23. What do you do with your body hair (pubes, underarms, legs, etc.)? I’m lazy so not enough.

24. Do you have stretch marks? Where? Chest, hips, stomach, ass.

25. Describe your nipples in too much detail. One is inverted and they feel next to nothing.

26. (Vagina-owners) Do you have an "innie" (small, tucked-in inner labia), or an "outie" (more visible/larger inner labia)? uh. the former.

27. (Vagina-owners) Is it very obvious when you're turned on (swelling, wetness etc.)? VERY obvious. idk i’m wet literally always.

28. (Penis-owners) Describe the size and shape of your penis. Are you happy with it? n/a

29. (Penis-owners) Have you tasted your own cum? Did you like it? n/a

30. (Breast-owners) How does the size of your breasts compare? Is one bigger than the other? they’re... not quite the same? SEXUAL FANTASY LAND

31. Describe your most unusual/taboo fantasy. I don’t really know? knifeplay/bloodplay? I want to feel alive.

32. Do you fantasise more about real situations, or imaginary/ impossible ones? impossible only in as far as i’m in a monogamous relationship.

33. Who's the oddest person you've fantasised about? only just people who’s sexualities I don’t know, i guess?

34. Do you ever find yourself fantasising absent-mindedly, or is it something you do on purpose? absentmindedly, often.

35. Do you always fantasise while you masturbate? yes.

36. When you fantasise, does it usually lead to masturbation? yes.

37. Have you ever had sex with someone while fantasising about someone else? yes.

38. Do you have any celebrity crushes that you fantasise about? no. those are too unattainable.

39. Have you ever fantasised about something by accident, and felt weird about it after? not really.

40. Describe your most sexy fantasy. i just want to be pinned between two hot people pls.

KINKTOWN USA

41. How do you feel about BDSM? as long as it’s safe, sane and consentual.

42. What's your most unusual kink? i don’t know what’s usual or unusual bc no one talks about it.

43. In an SM context, do you prefer giving pain, or receiving it? receive.

44. Do you consider yourself to be dominant, submissive, both, or neither? i am everything.

45. Describe your most recent bondage experience. i haven’t had a recent one that i can recall.

46. In a BDSM context, have you ever referred to anyone as "daddy," "mommy," or any similar term? NO. NEVER.

47. Do you have a kink for any bodily fluids (pee, saliva, blood, tears, cum, etc.)? cum, yes. very much so. please give it all to me.

48. Have you ever revealed a kink to someone and had them react negatively? yeah! and now i’m afraid to tell partners!

49. Do you have any kinks that you're ashamed of? yes. CNC for example.

50. How much money have you spent on equipment for your kinks (toys, whips, chains, etc.)? Not much, $200 at most.

COME FOR THE QUESTIONS, STAY FOR THE SUBHEADINGS

51. (Vagina-owners) Do you ever squirt when you come? no.

52. Have you ever come solely from penetration (anal or vaginal)? No. :(

53. Can you have an orgasm without your genitals being touched? Used to, not sure if i still can.

54. Describe how you like your genitals to be touched. very directly. 

55. How sensitive are your nipples? Does nipple play turn you on? they aren’t. at all. if you’re rough enough, i will slightly feel it.

56. Do you find it easier to orgasm with another person, or through masturbation? masturbation typically, but it’s always nice to have someone helping.

57. Have you ever had an orgasm that you weren't expecting? No.

58. Do you get off easier from rough contact, or gentle? depends on my mood.

59. What's the best orgasm you've ever had? idk last night’s was pretty good. fuck. but that might be bc i hadn’t orgasmed in a fortnight.

60. Did it take you a while to have your first orgasm, or were you an early starter? early. don’t want to talk about ti.

ORAL FIXATION

61. Do you enjoy giving oral sex? Why? i love it. i live to please. 

62. What's your favourite position in which to receive oral? on my knees while they’re sitting on something.

63. Describe your oral sex technique. I’ve only sucked dick so from that perspective. I intially like to go a bit slow. circle my tongue around the head slowly, before taking it deeper and deeper, while rolling my tongue around the head. idk.

64. Do you find it easier to give oral to someone with the same genital configuration as you (eg., you both own vaginas/both own penises), or different? I have only done one of these.

65. Describe the worst oral sex you've ever received. god i can’t even remember it because it wasn’t worth remembering beyond “he was VERY bad at it thanks straight men”

66. Describe the best oral sex you've ever received. idk as long as my partner is enthusiastic.

67. Do you ever simulate oral sex while masturbating (sucking on dildos etc.)? yes. sometimes. 

68. How sensitive is your mouth? Is it an erogenous zone, for you? pretty sensitive, but also VERY easy to become ticklish.

69. Do you like 69ing? not particularly, but I assume that’s because I don’t have a cock as i imagine that would make it easier.

70. Can you deep-throat? yes, depending on the other person’s size. I think I can go up to 6″ ish?

EVERYTHING BUTT

71. Do you like it in the butt? yes.

72. What's the strangest object you've had in your butt? nothing particularly strange.

73. Do you enjoy being rimmed? yes.

74. Can vou take a lot in vour butt or iust a little? i don’t know it’s been fucking years.

75. Describe your most recent experience with buttsex. i don’t know, it’s been fucking years.

76. Do you like doing stuff to other people's butts? I would like an opportunity to try.

77. (Prostate-owners) Have you ever received a prostate massage? n/a, wish i had one.

78. Do you own any buttplugs? No but i am in the market.

79. Have you ever had an embarrassing buttsex experience? No, because they were only accidental. :(

80. Have you ever pegged someone (ie., worn a strapon and fucked them in the butt)? Once but I would love to again... but not strapless bc i get too wet for it to stay in *me* to be able to actually penetrate.

SHARING IS CARING

All questions assume you've done group sex of some kind

81. Describe your most recent group sex experience. We didn’t end up actually fucking but I came while both just rubbed my wrists and licked them for like an hour.

82. Have you ever had sex with more than two people at once (eg., foursome, moresome)? No, it’s only ever been 3... and never “proper” sex.

83. Have you ever had an orgy? Would you? No, but I would.

84. Do you enjoy watching your partner(s) having sex with others? I would like to see that.

85. Do you prefer to arrange group sex beforehand, or allow it to happen organically? I’ve never had it happen organically beyond the one time it happened online.

86. Have you ever felt left out during group sex? no.

87. Have you ever done a gangbang (ie., lots of people have sex with one person, but not each other)? No, but please.

88. Have you ever teamed up with someone and given a double blowjob/double cunnilingus? No, but this is my goal eventually. 89. Have you ever been penetrated by more than one person at the same time? No. :(

90. Have you ever been ejaculated on by more than one person at the same time? No. :( 

**BONUS DARES**

91. Post a selfie. Not today.

92. Post a naked selfie. No.

93. Tag your biggest tumblr crush. hah, no. 

94. Post your follower count 462

95. Press ctrl-v, and post whatever comes up. https://archiveofourown.org/works/26560330/chapters/70706364

96. Tag your top five followers. I don’t remember what this means.

97. Post your most recent Facebook status here. “Got my hair cut and am trying masc contouring? I have no idea what I'm doing when contouring to amend my facial structure.” plus a pic of my haircut.

98. Post the last SMS you received. “haha I bet”

99. Post the last SMS you sent. “Yeah! But it feels VERY weird to wear a hood.”

100. Send me $500. no thanks

[stepdownonhell]

Questions, questions

1: How tall or short do you wish you were? A:I’m fine with my height:) 2: What’s your dream pet? (Real or not) A: A ferret  3: Do you have a favorite clothing style? A: Grunge/Indie. Or basic white bitch 4: What was your favorite video game growing up? A:Can’t remember  5: What three things/people do you think of most each day: My hawt bf, a certain amazing, gorgeous girl that’s my cute lil rabbit ♥, and my future. 6: If you had a warning label, what would yours say? A: “Warning asshole” 7: What is your opinion on Trump]? A: Kill it.  8: What is your Greek personality type? [Sanguine, Phlegmatic, Choleric, or Melancholic] A: Sometimes Sanguine (Rarely tho lmao. working on it sh) But Phlegmatic mostly.  9: Are you ticklish? A: Uhhhh..no? 10: Are you allergic to anything? A: Cute rats. sad.

11: What’s your sexuality? A: Pansexual (save the pan jokes) 12: Do you prefer tea, coffee, or cocoa? A: Coffee  13: Are you a cat or dog person? A: Dog 14: Would you rather be a vampire, elf, or merperson? A: A very tall elf. 15: Do you have a favorite Youtuber? A: Zane Hijazi 16: How tall are you? A: 5′10 17: If you had to change your name, what would you change it to? A: Octavia 18: How much do you weigh? A: Too much. 19: Do you believe in ghosts/spirits? A: Yes 20: Do you like space or the ocean more? A: Space. 21: Are you religious? A: Religion? What’s that? 22: Pet peeves? A: Everything a human can do with their nails. flick flick  23: Would you rather be nocturnal or diurnal? A: Who doesn’t wanna be a vampire? 24: Favorite constellation? A: Aquarius  25: Favorite star?  A: Sirius 26: Do you like ball-jointed dolls? A: No 27: Any phobias or fears? A: Spiders 28: Do you think global warming is real? A: Maybe? 29: Do you believe in reincarnation? A: Depends 30: Favorite movie? A: Love, Simon 31: Do you get scared easily? A: Naaah 32: How many pets have you own in your lifetime? A: 15 33: Who do you hate most? A: Um, trump and a certain some one. 34: What is a color that calms you? A: Yellow 35: Where would you like to travel and/or live? A: I would like to travel to the UK(And live there but..) I would wanna live in Cali.  36: Where were you born? A: A very cold place. 37: What is your eye color? A: Dark brown 38: Introvert or extrovert? A: Introvert. Why do you think I’m on tumblr? 39: Do you believe in horoscopes and zodiacs? A: Yeah boy. 40: Hugs or kisses? A: Um neither, gross. 41: Who is someone you would like to see/visit right now? A: My love 42: Who is someone you love deeply? A: My sweet boi 43: Any piercings you want? A: My septum plz. I need her back in my life 44: Do you like tattoos and piercings? A: Yes 45: Do you smoke or have you ever done so? A: I don’t smoke, but I have ew. 46: Talk about your crush, if you have one! A: I gots a mans honey 47: What is a sound you really hate? A: NAIL FLICKING 48: A sound you really love? A: My mans voice ;) 49: Can you do a backflip? A: no but how rad would that be? 50: Can you do the splits? A: ^ 51: Favorite actor and/or actress? A: Idkkk 52: Favorite movie? A: You asked me this already 53: How are you feeling right now? A: Nostalgic  54: What color would you like your hair to be right now? A: Blue 55: When did you feel happiest? A: When I went to Florida. 56: Something that calms you down? A: Talking  57: Have any mental disorders? A: Um 58: What does your URL mean? A: That’s a secret ;) 59: What three words describe you the most? A: Nostalgic, Lonely, unproductive.  60: Do you believe in evolution? A: Yes 61: What makes you unfollow a blog? A: If they’re a douche 62: What makes you follow a blog? A: If they’re rad 63: Favorite kind of person: The nice kind. Only in stores. 64: Favorite animal(s): Rats :) N snakes 65: Name three of your favorite blogs. I follow noone;) 66: Favorite emoticon: Emojis r gross 67: Favorite meme: Whats a me me  68: What is your MBTI personality type? A: Whut 69: What is your star sign? A: Sagittarius  70: Can your dog roll over on command, if you have a dog? A: Yes 71: What outfit out of all your clothes do you like to wear the most? A: Red and white adorable, soft ass crop top, with my black skinnies. 72: Post a selfie or two? A: Neither  73: Do you have platform shoes? A: Wishing 74: What is one random but interesting fact about yourself? A: I wanted to be a ballet dancer or a scientist.   75: Can you do a front flip? A: No 76: Do you like birds? A: Yes 77: Do you like to swim? A: ofc 78: Is swimming or ice skating more fun to you? A: Swimming 79: Something you wish didn’t exist: Anti lgbt + trump 80: Some thing you wish did exist: Teleportation my dear 81: Piercings you have? A: First+second lobe, nose. 82: Something you really enjoy doing: Makeup 83: Favorite person to talk to: My boiii 84: What was your first impression of Tumblr? A: gey  85: How many followers do you have? A: 0 86: Can you run a mile within ten minutes? A: 10:01 87: Do your socks always match? A: Not a chance 88: Can you touch your toes and keep your legs straight completely? A: Nope 89: What are your birthstones? A: Tealllll? 90: If you were an animal, which one would you be? A: a birb 91: If a flower could aesthetically represent you, what kind would it be? A: A white rose 92: A store you hate? A:  Hyvee? 93: How many cups of coffee can you drink in one day? A: 6 lmao  94: Would you rather be able to fly or read minds? A: read minds 95: Do you like to wear camo? A: Depends 96: Winter or summer? A: Summer 97: How long can you hold your breath for? A: 57 seconds 98: Least favorite person? A: a certain person 99: Someone you look up to: My boiii 100: A store you love? A: Spencers 101: Favorite type of shoes A: Converse 102: Where do you live? A: not ur biz 103: Are you a vegetarian or vegan? If so, why? A: No 104: What is your favorite mineral or gem? A: Um idk 105: Do you drink milk? A: No i think it’s gross 106: Do you like bugs? A: no 107: Do you like spiders? A: do u even have to ask? n O 108: Something you get paranoid about? A: Everything 109: Can you draw: No lol 110: Nosiest question you have ever been asked? A: do yOU PLAY BASKETBALL??????????? 111: A question you hate being asked? A: ^ 112: Ever been bitten by a spider? A: probably 113: Do you like the sound of waves at the beach? A: yes 114: Do you prefer cloudy or sunny days? A: Cloudy  115: Someone you’d like to kiss or cuddle right now: the boi :( 116: Favorite cloud type:  Arcus cloud 117: What color do you wish the sky was?  A: Yellow 118: Do you have freckles? A: I wish 119: Favorite thing about a person: Smile or humor 120: Fruits or vegetables? A: Fruits 121: Something you want to do right now: dieieieeie 122: Is the ocean or sky prettier? A: Both are endless  123: Sweet or sour foods? A: Sour 124: Bright or dim lights? A: Dim 125: Do you believe in a certain magical creature? A: No 126: Something you hate about Tumblr: The “I think murders are cute” Side. 127: Something you love about Tumblr: Pretty photos  128: What do you think about the least? A: Responsibilities ;))  129: What would you want written on your tombstone? A: “Dance on me”  130: Who would you like to punch in the face right now? A: A lot of people 131: What is something you love but also hate about yourself? A: My face 132: Do you smile with your teeth showing for pictures? A: Maybe 133: Computer or TV? A: Comp. 134: Do you like roller coasters? A: YEEES

135: Do you get motion sickness or seasickness? A: Motion sickness sometimes :((

136: Are your ears lobed or attached? A: Lobed 137: Do you believe in karma? A: A little 138: On a scale of 1-10, how attractive would you say you are? A: 3 139: What nicknames do you have/have had? A: Princess, hoe, rikku 140: Did you have any pretend or imaginary friends? A: When I was younger I thought Danny phantom was my bf.  141: Have you ever seen a therapist/shrink? A: Never 142: Would you say you are a good or bad influence to others? a: Bad.woops 143: Do you prefer giving or receiving gifts? A: Giving  144: What makes you angry? A: Homophobs  145: How many languages do you speak fluently? A: 2 Engrish n jibberish 146: Do you prefer boys, girls, and/or non-binaries? A: All of the beautiful people ♥ 147: Are you androgynous? A: Too much so 148: Favorite physical thing about yourself: My brows n hair 149: Favorite thing about your personality: Too tough to answer  150: Name three people you would like to talk to right now in person. A: My love, A rabbit n Hobo Johnson.  151: If you could go back into time and live in one era, which would you choose? A: Stone age my dudes 152: Do you like BuzzFeed? A: Ew no 153: How did you meet your spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/partner? A: A game 

154: Do you like to kiss others’ foreheads or hands for platonic reasons? A: umno

155: Do you like to play with others’ hair? A: Yea 156: What embarrasses you? A: My mother 157: Something that makes you nervous/anxious: Too many peoples 158: Biggest lie you have ever told: Lets not bring that up 159: How many people are you following? A: Dunno 160: How many posts do you have on your blog(s)? A: Like 2 161: How many drafts do you have on your blog(s)? A: none 162: How many likes do you have on your blog(s)? a: nONE 163: Last time you cried and why: A few days ago for reasons  164: Do you have long or short hair? A: Shoulder length 165: Longest your hair has ever been: To the bum 166: Why do you like, dislike, or have neutral feelings about religon? A: Because religion scares people into thinking if they do something bad, they’ll go to an imaginary place called hell. If your God loved you so much he would never do such a thing ;/// + Many other reasons 167: Do you really care how the universe and world was created? A: I really do 168: Do you like to wear makeup? A: too much 169: Can you stand on your hands or head for more than thirty seconds? A: No 170: Did you answer the questions you were asked truthfully? A: Yuh

[black-is-no-colour]

The Dress That Changed My Life

Linda Evangelista recalls the dress that she’ll never forget.

Harper's Bazaar US November 2017 Issue. By Linda Evangelista, on 23 October 2017

I wore this John Galliano dress on the January 1995 cover of Harper's Bazaar. The cover was shot by Patrick Demarchelier at his studio in New York, and we pretty much replicated the look from the Galliano show in Paris but without the veil. At the time I was modeling full-time, living between L.A. and New York, and traveling a lot to Europe, so it was hectic. But I loved my life���loved it. I absolutely adored my job, and I’ve always said that it’s a dream to do what I do for a living. I don’t remember that much from back then; everything is fuzzy. The best person to speak to about those days is Naomi [Campbell]. She remembers everything right down to the detail. Call her.

But I do remember the fitting for the Galliano show. When I saw this dress on the rack being wheeled in, I started hyperventilating. Early on I learned not to have any expectations, as you don’t always get the best dress or the best look in the show. And you don’t always get to open or close the show, so closing was an honor. I couldn’t have imagined a more beautiful dress. I’m not even a yellow person, but wearing this was one of the most sensational things that has ever happened to me. I loved everything about it. It was sophisticated, it was flirty, it was fun. It was retro, it was modern. I do love a full-on gown where you get to see the ankle. It had every element for me. I also loved the show and the energy. It was a very exciting moment in fashion, and the audience was just as excited. I didn’t know it was going to be like that, but when I walked out and felt that energy it was magical.          

It was so nice when Bazaar asked me to do the cover, as I did feel like this was my dress. I would’ve been sad to see someone else wearing it. I see girls now, if they go to Disneyland or at Halloween, they want to be a princess or dress as the fairy-tale movie heroine of the moment; for me, this was like, “Oh, my God, this is a fairy-tale dress, and I get to wear it on the cover of and take it to the next level.”

Before this dress I had never owned any couture. Karl [Lagerfeld] had given me some Chanel things, but I never had a couture gown. John gave it to me. I don’t remember exactly how it went down, but it was shipped to me. The thing took up a lot of square footage. It was tremendous, and I never knew where to put it, so it ended up in my bedroom on a mannequin. But it made me so happy because every morning when I woke up, the first thing I saw was this joyful, sunshiny-yellow dress. I had it for years, and then it started to look like maybe it was too fragile to be exposed. I thought, “Okay, I’m going to box it up,” and then I thought, “What am I going to do with it?” So I gave it to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It’ll find its show one day.

That’s the thing about John—he goes full-on, full force, and I find his vision entertaining. I always look forward to discovering whatever trip he’s on. He always has a story for you. When you go to your fitting, he explains to you who you are, where you’ve been, and how you’ve ended up where you are wearing this dress.

I remember this cover shoot being the easiest shoot in the world. Whenever I was told, “You’re shooting with Patrick,” I would always be like, “Yes!” I can’t imagine a more pleasant, fun, and wonderful environment to be in for work. He doesn’t have to do much because he’s Patrick. He doesn’t torture you. It’s not a struggle. Sometimes one has to go through a lot of pain to get their photos, but Patrick just makes everything easy.

But then I’ve always adored fashion. I don’t have a favorite; I love it all, from beautiful gowns to vintage dresses to men’s suits and androgynous stuff. And I love super-feminine pieces. But I don’t have as many clothes as one might imagine, as I wear my things more than once. I don’t wear them as a photo opportunity; I don’t wear them for my followers. I wear them because that’s how I dress in life.

What I love most about fashion, especially when it comes to a heavenly gown like this one, is that it can touch you emotionally and transport you back to a place in time. It means so much more than just something on a hanger.

John Galliano on That Dress

The iconic Linda Evangelista is the muse for all seasons. She closed the show in this dress, one of my favorite moments ever. She owned it, she slayed it, and I have since been told it was a “fashion moment”—my first! This collection was inspired by the exotic exploits of Misia Sert [the Russian-born pianist and close friend of Coco Chanel who held lavish parties at her Paris salon at the height of the Roaring ’20s], and as Linda carved her way through the crowds, no one else existed. Jaws dropped. The audience looked on in awe, but they could only dream. Linda commanded her space like no other. The creative process spontaneously kicked in as it always does with Evangelista. She was in character, melting onto a rusty soldier’s unmade bed surrounded by salty sailors from an imaginary port, and there you have it, the image, captured forever for all to see. The feathers on the bustier were hand-dyed to match the early-morning dew on buttercups, a golden glow only she can work, and she did. Her freshly peroxided hair was a platinum memory of a bygone glamour. Linda, a dear and caring friend, owns this dress. She slept with it at the end of her bed, and I cannot begin to tell you what this means to me.

Taken from Harpersbazaar.com

Photograph by Patrick Demarchelier