#you don’t get it you don’t get it the fucking sheer what humanity??? joy???? love???? in being in a music ensemble like an orchestra

[ezraphobicsoup]

ok but music is actually the most beautiful thing in every way i’m gonna turn into the sun. music and people and the world and oouyggghhhh

[dragonmuse]

How to be a Dirtbag Fic Writer

I got to do some talking about writing today and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so here are my full thoughts on the matter of being a dirtbag fic writer.

Being the disorganized thoughts of someone two and a half decades into the beautiful mess that is writing fanfic (and a few non-fanfic things too).

What is a dirtbag fic writer? 

 I am talking about someone who is not cleaning up anything. We show up filthy, fresh out of rooting around in the garden of our imaginations. We probably smell a little from work. We will hand you our hard grown fruits, but we have not washed them and we carried them in the bottom upturned parts of our t-shirts. The fruit is a little bruised. It’s not cut up or put in a bowl yet. But we got it in the house! It’s here. Someone can eat it.  

Why dirtbag it? Because the fruit gets in the house. If you’re hemming and hawing, if the idea you want to do seems to be big or you want it perfect and shiny. If you’re imagining a ten thousand step process, so you’re not taking the first step? Dirtbag it. 

How do I dirtbag? 

That’s the best part. You just write. Sit down. One word after the other. No outline, no plan, no destination. No thought of editing. Just word vomit. Every word is a good word. It’a word that wasn’t there before. Grammar sucks? Who cares. Can’t think of the perfect word? Fuck it, put in the simplest version of what you mean. 

Write the idea that you love. The one thing you want to say. Has it been done 3000000 times? WHO CARES human history is long, every idea has been done, probably more than twice. YOU have never written it before. It’s your grubby potato that you clawed out of the ground and guess what someone can still make it into delicious french fries. 

Now here’s the critical part. Write as much as you can squeeze out of your brain. One word in front of the other. 

And then I challenge you this: at most, read it over once and then put it into the world. Just as it is. AND THIS IS IMPORTANT: DO IT WITHOUT APOLOGY OR CAVEAT.  I challenge you, beautiful dirtbag to not pre-emptively apologize. Do not make your work lesser. THAT IS YOUR POTATO! It has eyes and roots and dirt clinging to it because that is what happens.  We are dirtbagging it today. Hell really confused people at do #dirtbagwriter on it.  

Dirtbag writes id, base, lizard brain. Dig in the fertile garden of your imagination. What is the story you tell yourself before you fall asleep? What’s your anxiety this week? Your fantasy? What is going well? What do you wish things looked like? Who is the feral imaginary character you’ve been crafting to take your frustrations and joys out on? 

But, VEE, I wish to have an editor and an outline, use a cool software like scrivener instead of retching up onto a google doc and making it look NICE and PRETTY!

COOL! DO THAT THEN! IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOING IT! You should have a process! That’s cool and healthy and necessary for sustainable writing. But if you’re not writing because all of that seems too much? THEN DON’T. 

Did you know fic is free? That we do this from love? From sheer desire? For the love of the game? If you have a process, and the words are flowing, amazing, I love that for you, you don’t need this essay.  If you don’t, let us continue. 

What does dirtbag writing look like? 

It’s messy. It’s a little raw and tatty around the edges sometimes. It’s weird.  It’s someone else’s first draft. Maybe it winds up being your first draft, Idek, that’s your business. 

It’s jokes that make YOU laugh. It’s drama that would make YOU cry if you read it. You are your first commenter. You are your first audience (and possibly continuing pleasure! If you don’t go back and reread your own work sometimes, you might be missing out on one of your favorite authors cause you wrote it for you! Wait until you’re not so close to it. Years sometimes. Then hey, maybe some of this is pretty dang good actually.) 

It has mistakes. 

Dirtbags make mistakes, but dirtbags have published pieces. They have things other people can read out there. 

What if I don’t get good feedback? 

Look, the most likely outcome of any new, untried fic writer (and even established writers trying something new-ish)  is that you get no feedback. That’s real. Silence. It’s eerie, it’s terrible, it sucks. I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t. But nothing is not negative. It’s a big fic-y ocean out there and we are all wee itty-bitty-sometimes-with-titty fishes.  

You should still do it all over again. And again. And again. You get better at writing by writing. You just do. Nothing else replaces it. If your well is dry? Fill it with new things. Go do something new, read a new kind of book, watch a new film,  (libraries have so much good shit, you don’t even have to spend money for so many things if you have a library card), just go for a walk in a new direction. Stimulate yourself. Got a cup of something hot and eavesdrop on conversations. Refill yourself with newness. 

And hey, speaking of, do you leave comments? Because you get what you give. You can build relationships with people by commenting and that builds community and community means places to get feedback in the end. Comments are gold. They are all we are paid in. Tip your writers with ‘extra kudos’ or ‘this made me laugh’. And hey, when you go back for a re-read so you can tell them your favorite part? Ask yourself how they made that favorite part? What do you like about it?  Tone? Metaphor? The structure? Reading teaches us how to write too! 

BUT, okay. Sometimes. Sometimes there is actual bad feedback and people suck. 

You know the best part about being a dirtbag? Unrepentant block, delete, goodbye. You don’t own anyone with a shitty opinion any of your precious time on this earth. You did it for free, you gave them your dirty, but still delicious fruit and they went ‘ew, this is a dirty strawberry, how could you not make a clean tomato?”  Because you didn’t plant fucking tomatoes, did you? Don’t fight, don’t engage. Block. Delete. Goodbye. 

If someone in person, looked you in the eye when you brought them a plate of food to share at a party and they said “Why didn’t you bring me MY favorite? This isn’t cooked well at all.” You would probably write up a Reddit AiTA question about it just to hear five thousand people say they were an asshole.   Fic is no different 

And hey, when you dirtbag it? You know you did. It’s not your most cleaned up perfect version. So who cares what they think? You might make it more shiny and polished next time! You might NOT. 

Ok, but what if I don’t finish it? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it’s bad? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it doesn’t make sense? 

That’s ART, baby. Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if what I want to write doesn’t work with current fandom norms? 

Then someone out there probably needs it!  And what the hell is this? The western canon? FUCK IT POST IT ANYWAY* 

*Basic human decency is not a ‘fandom norm’. Don’t be racist, sexist, ableist, fat shaming, classist or shitty about anyone's identity on main, okay? Dirtbag writers are KIND first and foremost. Someone saying you are stepping into shit about their identity is not the same as unsolicited crappy feedback about pairings. In the immortal words of Kurt Vonnegut: "God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

You’re being very flippant about something that’s scary. 

I know. I know I am. I know it can be scary. But no risk, no reward and hell, you aren’t using your goddamn legal name on the internet are you? (please for the love of fuck do not be using your legal name to write fic) You’ve got on a mask. You’re a superhero. With dirt on your cape. 

That niche thing that you think no one cares about? Guaranteed you will find someone else in the world who wants it. Maybe they won’t find it right away. Maybe they will be too shy to comment or even hit a button. But your dirty potato will stick with them. They will make french fries in their head.

You have an audience. But they can’t find you if you have nothing out there. 

Go forth. Make. 

You have some errors in this essay. 

PROBABLY CAUSE I DIRTBAGGED IT.  But I picked this strawberry for you out of my brain, so I hope you run it under some cold water and find the good bits and have a nice snack. Or throw it away. Or use it to plant more strawberries (I know that’s not how strawberries work, metaphors break when stretched).  

#dirtbagwriter 

Go forth and MAKE

[double-detonation]

Double Detonation Chapter 4

Using my quirk at my feet, I accelerated forward faster than I ever thought possible, screaming, "Katsuki!" I caught him before he could land face-first on the concrete. I sat on my knees, holding him up in a sitting position while he coughed up some gunk. I cringed at the sight, patting his back gently. I didn’t really know what to say, my body was shaking as pros closed in on us. Katsuki groaned and turned his head to look at me, a small smirk forming. I looked confused as he spoke, his voice a bit rough from the near suffocation he just endured. “T-told you, th-at, you could move faster.” I frowned in annoyance. “ARE YOU SERIOUSLY JOKING AROUND RIGHT NOW!” I shouted, smacking him gently on the back of his head. He hissed. “Oi, what the hell woman!”

The pro heroes start praising my brother’s quirk for the sheer power he showed when he was captured. No, please, stop encouraging him. His ego is already big enough as it is. I groaned to myself. I looked over, hoping to spot Midoriya. Once I spotted him, I got up and walked over to him, frowning at his expression. “You moron, do you have a death wish!” The walking twig shouted at him. OH HELL NAW. I quickly moved my way over. “There was absolutely no reason to-” I pushed the man with white hair to the side, standing in front of Izuku. I crossed my arms and glared at both of them.

“I don’t fucking think so. There is NO way in hell I’m going to let you talk to Izuku like that!” I growled, looking back at Midoriya with a small smile before scowling back at the two men. “He was the only fucking person who tried to help my brother in there!” I spat. “You should be ashamed of yourselves! You both are heroes. You should be setting an example rather than chastising someone who acted more like a hero than you lot today!” I finished, turning back to Midoriya, seeing him standing and fiddling with his fingers with a small blush on his cheeks.

I walked over to Midoriya, giving him a gentle hug. “Thank you Izuku, I owe ya one, okay?” I smiled at him, causing his blush to deepen, turning him into a human strawberry. “I-I didn't really do anything m-major, it's okay! You d-don't owe m-me anything!” He stutters, waving his hands around nervously. I chuckle softly at his antics. “Seriously though, if you need something, just call me.” I waved him goodbye, heading back towards my brother.

“C'mom, let's go home ‘Suki,” I said, starting the walk home. Katsuki looks at Midoriya with a fierce glare before following.

It has been about a week and a half since the incident. Also, the same amount of time when I decided I was going to fully train my quirk and my body like I was supposed to. The feeling of not being able to do anything when someone I loved was suffering…never again. I started using my allowance money to pay for a gym membership. I purposely chose one that was an hour away so I could get in a good run every other day. I didn't really work out in my past life due to health issues, but damn it felt nice being able to run without dying from exhaustion. 

My favorite part of the gym has to be the rock climbing course. I can't just go around parkouring things without getting into trouble, but here, I can do it as much as I want. Though the adults watching get mad at me if I try to do stupid shit, joy killers. I try to improve my time on the course every time I come but sometimes I rush a bit too much and fall, ruining the run. Speak of the devil. “Ahh shit!” I yelled as I missed my footing, and fell on the floor padding. “Damn it!” I shouted in frustration. Knew I should have gone for the closer stone. “That could have been my best time yet,” I grumbled into my hands.  

“Woah, dude you good? You fell from the top level.” A guy's voice spoke. A hand reached out towards me.

Hearing a voice next to me, I looked up towards them. My eyes widened at this guy's very familiar appearance. Crimson hair and eyes…oh shit. “O-oh um, yeah I'm good,” I replied, taking his hand. He pulls me up, giving me his signature toothy grin. “That's good, even with the padding it can be easy to sprain your ankle or something.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. Shit, am I seriously meeting one of my favorite comfort characters in person…BEFORE I EVEN ATTEND UA! Kazumi panic mode has been initiated, requesting backup.

I chuckled nervously, starting to pick at the skin on one of my arms subconsciously. “A-ah yeah, that would have sucked, my name's Bakugou K-Kazumi.” I stuttered, offering a slightly shaky hand to greet him properly. God damn it nerves, stop it, you're fine! I swear his eyes fucking sparkled at the gesture. Ugh, why is he such a fucking cinnamon roll in real life too!

“Sweet! I'm Kirishima Ejirirou. Are you new here? I haven't seen you at this gym until recently.”

Recently!? He's fucking been here and I haven't noticed! “N-no I'm not, I don't live near here, I live about an hour or so away. I just use this gym as an excuse to make me run.” I explained. 

Kirishima looked a bit shocked. “You run here for an hour!? Do you also run home?”

“Yup, though I don't go to the gym every day.” I'm too damn lazy to do that.

“Damn dude, I'd be too exhausted afterward to go running home, and I live nearby, respect man!” Kirishima laughs wholeheartedly with his sharp teeth showing, making me smile softly. “When do you normally leave?” He asked, tilting his head slightly.

“Eh, about 7:30. Gives me enough time to be home before curfew.”

Kirishima looks excited for a moment before calming himself down. “Would ya by any chance want to spar some? I- haven't really got many friends that would be willing to go to the gym with me- it's okay if that's a no tho!”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket for a second to check the time. I still have about an hour before I have to leave. I shrug, shoving the phone back down. “Sure why not.”

I regret agreeing to this.

I thought I was getting better at hand-to-hand combat fighting Katsuki. But God, he was kicking my ass, and that was without his quirk. Kirishima sent a quick, and hard kick to my side, making me kneel down, gasping for breath. I was on the floor panting, fuck. I almost wonder if Katsuki has been holding out on me, but I know he wouldn't do that. Fucker is too prideful to not go full strength. I held my hand up to signal a stop. “J-Jesus Christ red, what are you made out of.”

“S-sorry didn't mean for it to hurt that much.” He laughed nervously as he helped me up. “I got thick skin, even without my quirk.” 

I already knew what it was, but if I was going to build any friendships with anyone, I can't just be some weirdo who knows almost everything about them right away. “If you don't mind me asking, what's your quirk?” I asked gingerly, knowing it was a rather sensitive topic for him.

“Eh..my quirk is Hardening.” He replied with a voice that was a bit solemn, holding out his arm, turning the skin into a rock-like texture. “It's not very flashy but I'm aiming for the hero course of UA, which is why I'm here training.” He said, looking at me. “What about you?”

I frowned at his tone. Poor baby needs to build more confidence. “Mine is called Explosion. As the name suggests, I can make explosions with my hands and feet using my sweat.” Kazumi explained. “I would show you but…I would rather not accidentally blow anything up right now, sorry.”

“It's all good man, but I definitely want to see it one day, it must be pretty flashy if it's explosive!” Kirishima exclaims, his eyes widening slightly. “Oh shoot!” He pulled his phone out, unlocking the screen to the contact list page. “Mind if we swap numbers since you live far away? I'd love to keep in touch.” He asks, handing me his phone.

My face lights up at the thought as I make a new contact. I click the camera button, taking a quick selfie before typing in my phone number. This is exciting! The only people I have on my phone are my family and Midoriya. I finish up the information and hand the device back. “Text me and I'll save the number,” I said as I picked up my backpack. Kirishima and I walk towards the exit, the sliding glass doors open and we step onto the sidewalk.

“Bet, it was nice meeting you Bakugou!” Kirishima smiled, waving me goodbye as I walked off. I nodded, lazily raising my arm to wave it. “Yeah, you too,” I said, stepping up the pace into a sprint as I headed home.

I huffed as I made my way through the door. Hearing a notification from my phone, I threw myself on the living room couch and dug out my phone from my pocket. “Hey, it’s Kirishima! Thanks for the great day!” I smiled widely, instantly typing him back. “No problem man, I had fun even if you were kicking my ass.” I sent a message back with a laughing emoji. What I didn’t realize was that Katsuki heard me coming home and that he was currently behind me, watching.

“What the fuck, since when did you use emojis, and why are you smiling so goddamn much.” He demanded, throwing so many questions at me unexpectedly. Hearing his voice, I jumped, closing my phone with a slight blush. “N-none of your business! Stop stalking me!” I shouted.

Katsuki narrows his gaze at me, a shit-eating grin forming. “OLD HAG, KAZUMI HAS A BOYFRIEND.” I jumped again at the volume, my eyes widening. “Katsuki!” I yelled, jumping over the sofa to tackle him to the floor. A woman's voice from the floor above shouted. 

“WHAT!?”

Ending note: Hey everyone, sorry that this chapter took a bit longer to write than the others. I took a bit of a break last week since I was a bit tired from work and didn't have the motivation to write. I did start, but I never finished and I hated it for a while because I was unsure of what I wanted to do for it. I figured it out tho so I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!

[gffa]

I hope you don’t mind that I’m sending another ask about TriStamp (genuinely so happy to know that you like this series tbh 😭), but do you know that:

1) the website put “たった一人の兄弟であるヴァッシュを強く愛し、執着する” => “strongly in love and obsessed with his only brother, Vash” on Millions Knives character description

2) Kenji Muto (the director) & Yoshihiro Watanabe (the producer) said that this series is about “The song of two brothers, with magnitude to rumble a planet.”

and, 3) During episode 11 premiere, Nightow tweeted that, “世界が割れる程重い兄からのラヴ” => “Love from an older brother so heavy that it can split/break the world”

(I personally think those are beautiful)

Tristamp really brought out that all of their fighting hurts because they love each other, that all of this wouldn't hurt even a fraction as much if it were anyone else but them. And I am going HELL YEAH at every single quote you mentioned because it just PILES ON THE HURT. I laugh hysterically at how much this series really is playing up the twincest angle, but honestly even as strictly familial it's about love so strong that it breaks the world, that's exactly it. A love that means they can never fully let go of each other, everything they do becomes about what the other has done, about what they want for/from the other. It's not that Vash doesn't have other relationships, his dynamics with Meryl and Wolfwood and Roberto are important and mean so much to him, there's a part of Vash that will always need to be filled by multiple people, that's why he can't let go of Rem's memory, that's why Luida and Brad still have a place in his heart, but that's part of the conflict, too. That Vash loves and loves and loves, he loves so many people, even as I think he loves Nai more than any of them, he still loves those other people and that hurts Knives, that he isn't the only one that Vash loves, that he doesn't have all of Vash's love. But, honestly, if Vash weren't Vash, I'm not sure Knives would love him the way he does. And that's tragic! That hurts my heart! That Knives wants all of Vash, that he's willing to subsume everything Vash is to get all of Vash, but I think he would have regretted it, if he had won and Vash wasn't the same anymore, because all of this is for Vash. It's a conflict of pacifism vs retribution, but it's also a conflict of Knives loving Vash for being Vash, but Vash being Vash is what pulls him towards loving humans, too, and puts distance between him and Knives. That if either of them weren't who they were, this would be solvable, because they wouldn't love their twin the way they do because they know who the person is underneath all of it. But also the sheer id-pleasing joy of "Knives wouldn't just be willing to burn the world down for Vash, he's actively trying to do that to make a new one for his little brother", what a delicious, fucked up dynamic that is, I want 20 season of it immediately.

[queerregulusablack]

Okay initially yes I was going to make a long, carefully reasoned post about the ask Jude was sent and how it’s a symptom of a much large problem ie fandom entitlement and parasocial relationships with writers and the shoehorning of popular fanfic authors into the role of celebrity or ‘content creator’. I skeletoned it. It’s still sitting in my drafts.

But I’ve had a trying day and even after sitting on it for over six hours I’m still heated, so this is what we get instead.

This is the kind of thing that kills fandoms.

I like to joke that I am ‘old man yells at cloud’ in the Marauders fandom, because I’m closer to the top end of the age range here, and I’ve been doing the fandom thing for more than a decade. I’ve got buckets of experience; very little fandom nonsense is new to me, regardless of it’s twists and turns.

So when I say this, I say it with enough experience to know it to be true; this sense of entitlement, and this callous, uncaring treatment of the artists who create for this fandom, is exactly the kind of thing that kills fandoms.

It makes writers stop wanting to write. It makes artists stop drawing. It makes the people responsible for funny incorrect quotes blogs leave their pages for greener pastures. It’s not just rude, and arrogant, and honestly pretty damn cruel; it kills joy, and motivation, and it will drive this fandom into the ground.

Jude doesn’t owe you anything. Zar doesn’t, Yaz doesn’t, no artist, participating in any fandom, owes you a single thing. They create their art for free. You are lucky to get a word of it; you should be incredibly grateful they post anything at all, because for a lot of fandoms people just don’t. Off the top of my head I can think of two separate fandoms where I and a friend built a ship tag from the ground up, because no one else was writing for them, and so believe me when I say that you should be enormously grateful for every scrap of content you receive.

You should not be demanding more. You certainly shouldn’t be dictating when anyone shares their art, or talking to them like theirs is just ‘filler’ for the gaps between updates by a person you prefer.

I cannot put into words how rude that is. How awful that is. It is so, so entitled and unpleasant to think you have the right to do anything even close to that.

At the end of the day, these are people using up many hours of their limited personal lives to create art, for free, that they are under no obligation to share with you but do anyway out of the kindness of their hearts. It doesn’t matter what your personal preference is, it doesn’t matter how personable and willing to talk to you they are, it is still their creation. They decide when it comes out, and how it comes out, and every snippet is an absolute gift; and I do not know how to fully express how absurd it is to bite at the hand feeding you so generously, and for fucking FREE.

I do think the readiness of so many popular Marauders authors to interact with fandom the way they do, with their open askboxes - with anon on for some! - is a mind-boggling phenomenon. I think it’s wonderful.

If you keep this kind of behaviour up, it is another thing you are going to lose.

The writers you’re talking to are people. They’re not cleverly concealed AI churning out content for clicks; no one pays them. They are human beings, sacrificing their time to create, and offering up the stories they have lovingly crafted to you for no reason other than because they love what they’ve made and want to share it, because they think you might love it too.

I cannot physically comprehend the sheer audacity required to spit in the face of that.

Treat your authors better. Respect the fact that they have lives, remember that they don’t owe you shit, and if you cannot say anything to them that is not basic-level respectful and kind, don’t say anything at all.

Or you will lose all of this. And you’ll have no one to blame but yourselves.

[myriad-miscellaneous]

vignette dump

i’ve got all these brain worms that i want to share but will probably never be finished own full-fledged stories. the first one of these is already at 3.2k words and it doesnt feel remotely finished omg

i'm never going to get past my mental hurdle to actually write smut, am i?

"If a demon can achieve godhood like you, then tell me," he growls. "Is there a chance that, demon and monster that I am, could I be like you? Can I find purification in the wake of your vaunted flames, Professor? Will I find salvation if I were to follow your lead — as I so blindly did a lifetime before?"

  A sliver of his heart still capable of hope prays that her cold, soft-spoken voice tells him that he can, that he is deserving, that all his sins could be forgiven and swept away as easily as the clouds before the breeze. But, as always, his prayer is a useless gesture — a testament to his ineptitude that he dares to hope at all. She does not tell him any of those things. She does not tell him anything at all at first, meeting his plea with only silence.

  "...Dimitri," she says finally, as if that is her answer, and he bites his tongue to stop himself from shouting that the fool who once went by that name is dead.

  Her sea green hair rustles with a sad shake of her head, and she crouches down to meet him, searching for a gaze that turns fearfully away from hers. "I am neither, Dimitri," she whispers, and the sound is too loud, nearly deafening against the vast emptiness of the cathedral. Hearing her voice rattles him like thunder, shakes him like a Thoron cast through his racing heart.

  "I am and I have only ever been human," Byleth tells the walls behind him, averting her eyes to avoid spooking him any further. "I was your professor for a time, but now not even that. Now, I suppose, I am no one at all…"

  "Ha!" he barks. "Do you claim to be a ghost, then? Do not be so delusional, Professor." He spits the title like a swear, the title that he used to exclaim with such joy, such excitement, such — don't-say-it-don't-fucking-say-it-you-wretch — love — fuck — once upon a time. His voice grows harder, harsher, from his self-directed fury. "As long as that heart of yours beats, pumps blood within your whole, hale skin and bone, you cannot contend to be one of the many spectres that haunt me. You have said the same yourself."

  "Then take it."

  He lifts his aching head to behold the piercing glow of green in her eyes, searing with hurt and something that does not look like wrath, which would be what he rightfully deserves. Behind her beautiful, haunting visage is a blend of resignation and determination, and it bores into his soul more powerfully than even the memory of her bewitching smile.

  He is mesmerized all over again when she pledges herself, heart, body, and soul to him, as if he is the god and she, the believer.

  "If you need a heart, Dimitri, then I will give you my heart," she says. "If you need a sword, then I will be your sword. And when you need someone to show you the way, then I will become that person to guide you back. Ghosts and gods should not dictate the paths of the living."

  And he laughs, oh, how he laughs, cackling like the madman that he is — not from the sheer blasphemy of her words, though she would likely be put to the stake had she told anyone actually devout, but from the idiotic notion that she believes he deserves her help or anything at all. He is a man steeped in sin.

  …He is a man steeped in sin, he realizes, and the flash of greed that flickers to life in his mind seems like a mere speck against his mountains of misdeeds.

  "If—" And he stumbles over the words; he's indignant, outraged, in disbelief at what he's about to say, but that is Dimitri feeling all of those human foibles, and he is a savage beast.

  "I-if your words ring true, then kneel. Offer your body to your king."

  She leaves him.

  That is — she should be leaving him; that's what she's supposed to do, but, oh goddess, she's not; she's staying; she's kneeling, and what in the eternal flames was he expecting when he explicitly ordered her to do that?

  He curses himself, but the thought is drowned in the cacophony of screeches from his dearly departed. His step-mother hangs her head in despair, even as it hangs by a flap of skin to her neck. His father is all outrage, assaulting him with a flurry of questions: What do you think you're doing? Will doing this bring you any closer to our murderer's head? How could I raise this as my son? 

  Glenn clicks his tongue in disgust and doesn't even face him. I can't believe that I died just for you to get your dick wet.

  Glenn's comment stings most of all, and Dimitri prepares himself to send her away — tell her that it was just a tasteless joke, just like his joking not-joke at the Goddess tower.

  But then Byleth, obeying the spirit of his law but not the letter of it, begins to strip, and the words disappear with all his ability to think.

Bits of metal clang against the stone floor, and he swears that he can hear the goddess laughing cruelly at him through the echoes. Illuminated in the moonlight pouring down from the broken rooftop, her vessel looks every inch divine, soft curves and sinuous muscle, and he is helpless, pathetic, weak. He is a mortal, a man, and (he tells himself that) instinct possesses him the moment that she casts off her shirt. With only inches in between them, the hem of her clothing grazes against his gauntlet.

The new archbishop had brushed away the dust coating the headstone, plopped her bum onto the grass, and spoken aloud to the frigid air. In hindsight, a living confidant might have been better, but sharing the news with her parents first just seemed right.

  So she told them, or what she had left of them, about the proposal. About how her betrothed made her really, truly, happy, despite having every possible reason to languish in abject misery for eternity. About how he was the same, charming man who originally taught her what happiness was supposed to look and was supposed to feel like, a short lifetime ago. And about how he was to be crowned king of the United Kingdom of Fodlan in just a few hours' time.

  And only after she finished her impromptu briefing — for just a fleeting moment — Byleth had heard her father's gravelly chuckle, stretching all the way down from his space in the heavens.

  It is a preposterous thought, to be fair. Jeralt would've laughed and laughed and then drank himself into a stupor to cope once he realized that she was serious.

  After all, the lifelong mercenary Byleth Eisner AKA the life-shortening Ashen Demon doesn't know a damn thing about nobles and noble etiquette, much less royal etiquette. The daughter of the Blade Breaker grew up using knives as forks and her hands as spoons and only bothered learning otherwise after a scandalized Lorenz blockaded the door to her quarters with etiquette textbooks.

  Reading his disciplinary book report had been more punishment for her than it had been for him, come to think of it.

"Well, what are you waiting for, my king?" his beloved asked, cupping her breasts in a way that just barely — inadequately — protected her modesty. "Come and conquer me."

  Dimitri awoke with a start, falling off his bed in his panic. "Professor!"

  Sylvain awoke to the sound of a violent thump.

"It's not just revenge that I'm fighting for, Dimitri. I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I choose to fight for what I believe in."

  He scoffs. "And what might that be?"

  Her lips quirk in what resembles a rueful smile, but it can't be counted as a smile — not with the crushing, despondent pain that wells up behind her eyes. "It's for a wish that I made long ago. Our wish."

  He hasn't the patience for these games of vague words and masked intentions, but perhaps once upon a time he did, when he was still playing prince atop a stage of pretty words and ugly ambition. 

  "It's clear that you don't remember," she says, too quickly. "Maybe another time, then."

"I fight to create a world where no one will be unjustly taken from us again. That is my wish — to see yours brought to life."

"Even if you didn't remember it anymore; even if you didn't believe in it anymore — this has been the path that I've chosen for myself, Dimitri."

[starry-skies-116]

INCORRECT QUOTES:

Gregory: “I always have a plan for staying on top of things for this month. Seize control of every opportunity, get my grind on and work my hardest and absolute smartest to be my best self. Drink lots of coffee, eat lots of pastries, pet lots of cats when I’m on the verge of a crisis, and pray to whatever god is up there that the power of love, hope and faith can get me through it all. Even if my enemies are the gods I end up praying to, I will never lose sight of my goal. I’ll simply just work harder.”

Glamrock Freddy: “... It’s past your bedtime. Please, I beg of you, rest.”

Gregory: “I was comatose for fifty-seven years straight, brother dear. I can endure this delightful misery for a while lo-” *instantly collapses*

Glamrock Freddy: “...I rest my case.”

__________________________________

Elizabeth: “How do you think life would be if me and Michael weren’t your siblings?”

Evan: “For one thing, I would be sane.”

__________________________________

Gregory: “Lizzy, I’m sorry. I’m not allowing you into the kitchen for reasons I can’t say.”

Vanessa: “...Me and Bubba left you alone with Chica for three fucking minutes, how did you already cause such a ruckus within the span of three minutes.”

__________________________________

Gregory, opening a Fizzy Faz: “Oh, fine, then. I guess I’ll just drink my sorrows away.”

Sundrop, whose poor heart skipped a beat: “How does he know what that means!?”

Vanessa: *nervous whistling*

__________________________________

Gregory: “You know what the old saying is; go big, or go home!”

Freddy and Vanessa: “Dear god, please, I BEG of you, please, for just ONCE in your life, please, go HOME, PLEASE.”

Gregory, whispering so quietly he’s practically mouthing the words at this point: “I’m going big.”

__________________________________

Freddy: “You know, Liz, not every problem can be solved with a swiss army dagger.”

Vanessa: “I know. That’s why I carry two of them.”

__________________________________

Gregory: “I’ve had a coffee and a single oreo within the past two hours. I’ve got a Fazerblaster, I’m four foot seven, and I’m always ready to fight God on sheer adrenaline and rage alone.”

Vanessa: “Someone fix my poor big brother.”

__________________________________

Montgomery Gator: “Oi, little guy, ain’t it past yer’ bedtime?”

Gregory, filling out paperwork in scented glitter gel pen: “Isn’t it time you minded your own business?”

__________________________________

Elijah (Bonnie Mask Bully): “Oi, loser, isn’t it past your bedtime?”

Evan, filling out paperwork with a crayola marker: “Isn’t it time you shut up? Permanently?”

__________________________________

Michael, glaring incredulously at Evan: “You keep track of all the information you’ve ever learned and used in a bloody ledger?”

Evan, sipping his tea with extra milk and sugar nonchalantly: “Oh? And you don’t?”

__________________________________

Katrina Emily (Mrs. Emily): “Hypothetically, would you slap your older brother for 50,000 dollars?”

Evan: “I’d shatter all the bones his leg for two slices of piping hot Fredbear’s Pizza and a refreshingly cold beverage.”

Michael:

Evan: “And then I would hug him and drown him in apologies for the next two hours, and also sign his cast.”

Michael: “Oh.”

__________________________________

Evan (inspired by one Tumblr post): “The sexiest thing about me? Everything hurts my feelings.”

__________________________________

Gregory (Reincarnated Vessel) and Charlotte Emily (CharlieBot): *points at family love* “This one sparks joy.”

Gregory and Charlie turning to romance and pointing at it: “This one does not spark joy.”

__________________________________

Some random person: “Oh, but romance and love are what make us human!”

Gregory/Evan, Charlie, and Cassidy: *turn to each other* “It’s tough being a god, y’know?”

__________________________________

Susie, hanging out around Gregory with the other MCI gang: “What’s your ideal date?”

Gregory: “MM/DD/YYYY. Other formats tend to be confusing, such as the ones used in passports for traveling to other countries.”

Cassidy: “As one who speaks from personal experience, I can confirm the validity of such wisdom.”

Charlie: “Agreed.”

__________________________________

Gregory: “Do I feel romantic attraction or am I just lonely and depressed and love and touch-deprived?”

Freddy and Vanessa: “...Do you need a hug?”

__________________________________

[the-bees-patella]

AAAAAA i would like to know about all of these, but i’ll ask…

hhhh how do i choose

ok ok im closing my eyes and pointing—

untitled goose war game

(how do u feel about multiple asks? asking for a friend 👉👈)

(from this WIP post).

I'm sorry this is so horrifically long, but you ended up asking about one of my longest and long-standing projects! And please feel free to send as many asks as you like!

I don't even remember what I saw that reminded me of the concept of a Soulmate Goose (AO3 tag: "Alternate Universe - The Soulmate Goose of Enforcement"), wherein the premise is: one day, you wake up with a goose sitting on you and it leads you in some way or another to your soulmate, shenanigans ensue (it's often paired with the tag "Goose-typical violence"), and then you say oh and kiss and/or complete whatever other romantic rituals the author deems necessary, the goose disappears, and presumably, you continue to kiss and hold hands for eternity or whatever.

At around the same time, a friend informed me that Cody calls Anakin almost exclusively by his first name in the books and comics and the sheer disrespect necessary for that to happen absolutely killed me. I did not and will not be doing a fact-check because I believe we need whatever droplets of joy we can wring from this wretched washcloth of a timeline.

Looking at the dates, I'd just published my first Clone Wars fic and discovered two things in the process: 1) I needed to write more clone relationships immediately; 2) Cody's a right bastard.

Naturally, I decided it would be hilarious for Cody to get his goose and for it to run directly for Rex…only to be intercepted by one Anakin Skywalker. Anakin is, of course, enthralled with the idea of true love and building a home and a sense of belonging.

Cody would rather put own his eyes out with a spork. Hijinks ensue.

I started writing from Cody's perspective and got pretty well into it before I realized that in order for this rom-com scenario to work he'd have to: 1) realize that Rex likes him very much, 2) realize that, he, too likes Rex as a human person. At this point in the story they'd been fucking for months. Cody has been extremely chill and very relaxed about Rex in the CC groupchat. There was a whole thing with a grenade and a compass.

So I had to start over with someone who both had at least 50% of this mission-critical information, or at least the ability to stop playing 5D asshole chess with himself to figure it out, and also didn't make me want to do a little recreational enucleation.

Sorry, Rex.

A couple other fun facts:

The goose is a manifestation of the Living Force and therefore cannot die. Cody discovers this and starts sending GT-0101 on air reconnaissance missions.

The goose will not be paid in kisses or revelations. The goose demands blood. The goose will only accept human sacrifice; that is, total emotional honesty and nothing less.

(Does Cody just end up dying with the goose still next to him? Who can say.)

What this means is that you could fuck in front of the goose all the livelong day and it would remain, with its beady eyes and horrible beak teeth.

Cody is the first clone to get a goose. Make of that what you will.

Snippet:

“All right, General Kenobi?” “What? Oh, yes. If anyone is up to the task of—er—wooing Cody, it’s Anakin, I suppose.” They look over to where Cody and Skywalker are engaged in a ferocious tug-of-war over the goose. Skywalker seems to have clasped Cody’s hands over his death grip on the bird, and Rex can practically smell the yearning as his general makes aggressively optimistic eye contact. Cody doesn’t break his glare because he’s always been braver than Rex. “Skywalker,” he says. “Don’t make me take your other hand.” Rex turns back to General Kenobi. “You want to put credits on that, sir?” “The Force works in mysterious ways,” Kenobi says, much too cheerful, and gives Rex a side hug, something he has never done before in his life. Everyone is being extremely normal about this.

[thoughts-of-walker]

Dust and Ashes

I don’t think she had ever been taller than 5’7. I can’t be sure, we never really got around to measuring each other or anything. However I do know she was always slightly shorter than me, and I’m 5’9 so that has to mean something. Nevertheless, she clearly won’t ever reach my height now, I mean, considering.

I look down at my hands. Well less at my hands and more at the grey-speckled urn they’re holding. It really is a pretty little piece of pottery; almost too pretty for what it holds, but to each their own I suppose. Maybe urns would be better if they matched the person inside, like a carved log of wood befitting a lumberjack. What would hers be like? Something bright, probably yellow. Before I think about it too much, my thoughts move back to the dullish grey one in my palms. Somehow, I convince myself that if I open it, some sort of sunshine would spill out. I suppose if it’s really true that an entire person can be packed into one of these, surely it had to resemble them, right?

Wrong. I pull the top towards me, and when that doesn’t work I twist it counter-clockwise. It opens. There’s no blinding light. Not even a faint shimmer or the impression of glow. It’s all quite underwhelming actually, just a ziplock bag of ashes. There she is. All of it. All of her. The urge to gag, or scream, or sob, or some sordid mix of all three overcomes me. Is this really all she amounts to? How could anyone think that she lived just to turn into a three pound bag of fucking soot? Right now, though, those three pounds are heavier than the weight of the world, so I set her remnants, along with her carrier, down in front of me. My hands make the slow drag up to my face. It’s wet. I don’t know when I started crying, but I’m also not sure it matters.

I’m helpless to do anything but stare at what they made her and really? Is this it? No, I refuse to believe that something so valuable as one's life can be reduced, to or by anything at all. Years made up of days made up of hours made up of moments. Ones I hope were filled to the utmost brim with art, and laughter, and joy, and god-willing; even love. But that’s not realistic. Because yes, there must’ve been beautiful moments, but there must've also had to have been hurt, heartbreak, and every horrible undertaking that teaches us what it is to be human. So truly, how can all of those moments add up to a pile of dust? Is it the sum of its parts? Did the good outweigh the bad? Or the other way around? Does any of this truly mean something?

Unnecessarily nihilistic thoughts aside, I have learned that if life is anything, it’s unexpected. Like the Ferris Bueller quote, you know the one. “Life moves at you fast,” or whatever. Sitting here looking at this bland eleven inch urn, I’m struck with the thought that I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. All the love she held, where does it go?

But as I look at her, or what’s left of “her” at least, I try to force the cogs in my head to turn and tell me what to do. It doesn’t work very well, as all that fills my mind is the sheer injustice laid before me, a full and all-encompassing soul that was turned into a decidedly empty and finished entity. She still had such a grand story to tell. We all do. So what becomes of my story now? I suppose I am going to have to move on. I’m going to have to get up every morning to tell my story without one of the main characters. I’m not sure if I’ve started crying again, but I’m also not sure I ever stopped.

I think they will stop, eventually. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not the day after that. But eventually. Maybe after that, in a week or so, I’ll start doing the dishes again. Maybe in a month I’ll learn how to say her name again. Maybe in a year I’ll be able to listen to her favorite song without my eyes watering. But I don’t think I’ll ever not be reminded of her in every sunset, on every bike ride, or whenever someone laughs so hard they snort, just a little bit. But that’s okay, I think. It’s okay to lose someone and learn from it, albeit slowly. And it’s okay to lose someone and learn from it and then feel guilty about learning from it. Maybe it’s even okay to forget them, just a little. Maybe it’s okay to let go. Because healing does not mean the pain never existed, it means the pain no longer controls you.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T+ for language and violence Warnings: Choking (kinda) Summary: Local feral human makes a friend, tries to sleep next to local mean vampire, then gets a taste of their own medicine Previous Chapters: 1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring; 2: Bloodbath, Baby!

3: Haunt Me Dearly

What a lovely crimson mess I’ve made, you think, watching as the last of the bloody water drained from the bathtub. There were still several splashes of red along the sides, where you had leaned on or otherwise touched. Frowning, you considered whether or not to clean up after yourself. Surely it wouldn’t be one of your captors doing the cleaning? In that case, you think, I don’t want to make any enemies out of the servants. First you had to finish binding your wounds. Wouldn’t want to risk getting them dirty so soon after washing them, after all. Except you weren’t even sure that you could properly wrap them on your own, considering the positioning of your injuries.

“Ah, fucking hell…” You muttered, scowling a little. Then you remembered that Cassandra had sent a maid to wait outside the bathroom for you. Maybe they could help? Nodding to yourself, you threw on your new undergarments and pair of trousers, deciding to save the shoes for later. Once you were ‘decent’, you slowly opened the door, peeking out from behind it. Before long you were making eye contact with an unfamiliar woman, who looked very confused. “Any chance you could help me bandage my shoulder? I can’t do it without help, and something tells me Cassandra’s not going to lend me a hand.” With that said, you gave her a friendly smile, hoping to make up for the awkwardness of the situation.

“Of course! It is my honor to serve a guest of my Lady,” the maid- servant, maybe- said, giving a short curtsy. Admittedly you’re a little confused by her response. Still, you gladly welcome her assistance, moving back into the bathroom to grab the gauze. Although you intend to do as much as you can on your own, the woman is quick to take over completely. “Please, allow me,” she continued, carefully beginning to wrap your wounds.

“Are all the workers here so polite? I can’t imagine anyone actually enjoys working here, all things considered,” you mused, squinting at the middle distance. At that, the servant tenses up, clearly not expecting you to speak ill of her employers. Well, she had called you a guest. “Don’t be surprised, friend. Less than an hour ago I was fit to be consumed by ‘your Lady Cassandra’. Only reason I’m not dead right now is because of a stupid blood bond,” you explained, tone dripping with irritation. This time the servant doesn’t flinch at all, instead nodding slowly, taking a moment to let your words sink in. During this pause, you decide to introduce yourself, just in case the two of you might see each other frequently.

“I… see. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, no matter the circumstances of your presence here. You can call me Daphne, though I must warn you that I am not one for, ahem, gossip about my masters,” she replied, finishing her binding of your shoulder wound. Next she searched through the cabinet by the sink, looking for a medicinal salve of some sort. Once she found it she was right back to work. The substance stung a tad on your skin, but you could hardly complain, seeing as it would help fight off possible infections.

“You sure about no gossip? What if we call it ‘helping me get acclimated to my new situation’? I’m a fish outta water here, Daphne,” you suggested, turning your head to look her in the eyes. At first she ignored you, focusing on rubbing the medicine into your skin. Eventually she meets your gaze, briefly, and releases a quiet sigh.

“You are free to ask questions-” you start to celebrate, though not for long- “just as I am free to withhold answers. Though I may be more responsive if you can tell me one thing… Why was Lady Cassandra’s dress wet?” Daphne asked, making you freeze in place. Of course she wanted the one answer you didn’t feel confident about giving. She’s quick to notice this, though, and laughs to herself. “Well, I suppose some things must remain a mystery. Now let’s get your face cleaned up…”

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

By the time you make it to Cassandra’s room, the sun is starting to rise, leaking in through the castle windows. Exhaustion weighs you down, making you want to fall immediately into the nearest bed. As it stands, that was none other than your soulmate’s, though it was currently occupied. For a moment you hover in her doorway, contemplating whether or not you should steal her blanket. Floor can’t be too bad, you think, right? Before you can decide you notice Cassandra stirring from her sleep.

“What took you so fucking long?” She asked groggily. Now she’s sitting up, blanket clinging loosely to her body, and you realize that she’s not wearing a shirt. Though a blush rishes up your cheeks, you’re certain it’s too dark for Cassandra to notice. Or at least you hope so. Wanting to think about something other than what she was (or was not) wearing, you focus your energy on responding.

“Isn’t it obvious? I got invited to a sick orgy on the way back, and I wasn’t about to turn that down, so…” You trailed off, gesturing idly with your hands. The movement stretches your shoulder more than you’d like, resulting in an ache that lasts several seconds. It distracts you to the point where you almost can’t catch the object Cassandra promptly throws at you. “What the hell…?” It’s a shoe, as far as you can tell, that definitely would have hurt, had it hit its intended target. “Such a lovely gift, babe. I will treasure it for the rest of my days, forever keeping it as a reminder that you-” your tone shifts from a false joy to deadpan- “are a piece of shit. Now, seriously, where am I supposed to sleep? Is there a walk-in closet I can camp in? Or do I get the bed, while you sleep in a fucking coffin or something?”

Before Cassandra has a chance to respond, you’re walking further into her room, wanting to take a quick look around. There’s a large dresser that you quickly toss her shoe inside, as well as a window sill with a built-in reading nook. Trading your tiredness for sheer dickery, you throw open the curtains, letting the light pour in (and nearly blind you in the process). Half of you expects your soulmate to screech in response. Maybe even turn to ash. Instead, you hear her moving, and you turn to find her laying back down, facing away from you.

“When you’re done fucking around, come over here and sleep. I will knock you out if I have to,” Cassandra muttered, still sounding half asleep. As much as you wanted to know if she’d go through with her threat, you are exhausted. Begrudgingly you approach the bed. It’s certainly large enough for two people, even having enough room for you to be completely separate from each other. When you start to climb in, you find yourself overwhelmed for a moment, surprised at the quality of the sheet fabric. Exactly how rich were these vampiric assholes? This room alone seemed to be worth more than you had ever known.

This was, perhaps, the one bright side to your situation: A comfortable state of existence. Well, as comfortable as one could get in a place like this. So lovely on the outside, a muse worthy of a thousand artists, yet hiding far darker horrors within… much like the woman you now found yourself laying beside. Why me? Why her? What could possibly bring the two of us together, you think, other than a cruel fate? There’s a pain in your chest, dishearteningly similar to heartache. Damning the universe, and your blood bond, and yourself, you think ‘fuck it’ before sliding closer to Cassandra. One arm drapes itself over her waist, while you slowly lean your head against her back.

In an instant she’s tense, not even breathing, waiting for you to reveal whatever trick hid up your sleeve. But no trick comes, just your hand meeting hers, squeezing softly. Suddenly the tension is gone. None remains, not even lingering in the air, and the two of you soon drift off to sleep...

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

Shaking, body made a wreck through tremors, tears staining her cheeks. Breathing comes hard, each shift of her lungs bringing with it a mighty ache. Someone’s holding her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, fingers tracing circles against her back. But she’s lost in her dream, eyes clenched shut. Visions flash before her gaze like lightning in a storm. There’s no time to process, no opportunity to prepare for the thunder that follows. Every strike is a punch to the gut she can’t ignore. When release finally comes, it is not a gentle kiss to her forehead, or a reassuring hand on her own, but rather an intense surge of pain that jolts her awake.

Cassandra nearly screams as she sits up, hands reflexively going to hold her head. One of them stings, bad, and she notices what look like bite marks on the side. For a moment her confusion acts as a welcome distraction. Then she’s looking next to her, and the puzzle practically puts itself together. There you are, one hand in your mouth, an eyebrow raised as you stare at her. Ignoring the lingering memories of her dream, she turns all of her rage towards you. Quickly she grabs ahold of your arm, forcefully yanking your hand out of your mouth, even though it makes your teeth dig in a little deeper. It takes more willpower than she wants to admit to stop herself from strangling you right then and there.

“I didn’t know monsters could even have nightmares,” you taunted. Before you know what’s happening, Cassandra is lunging towards you, pressing her forearm against your throat. There’s just enough pressure to make talking difficult. Both of her yellow eyes are filled with hatred, aimed right at you, but you can’t help but laugh. “Ya know, I did try to wake you up nicely. I should have known you only respond to violence. Next time, though, I’ll remember to stay a safe distance away.”

“You don’t know anything, dipshit. Anyone else would know better than to spout so much fucking ignorance, but nobody taught you how to behave, huh?” Cassandra growled, applying more pressure with her arm, leaving you unable to reply (for once). “You’re a goddamn mutt, aren’t you? Thrown to the street like the garbage you are, left to live in the gutter, feeding off of trash like a fucking cannibal. You should be honored to be allowed anywhere near me. You should be worshiping me, for fuck’s sake!” Black dots form in your vision, a dark halo edging into the corners of your eyes, as your lungs beg for air. But you’re grinning. You’re showing your teeth, bright and proud, knowing full well that you have won this round. As soon as realization dawns on Cassandra’s face she’s pulling herself off of you.

Still, you are left gasping, clutching at your neck as she hurriedly gets dressed for the day. By the time you can see properly again, she’s left without another word. Even as she stalks down the corridor, eagerly rushing away from you, she hears your laughter howling through the castle. It digs into her brain, taunting her. Soon enough you’ll stop, light headed, but she will still hear it echoing inside her mind. You’ll haunt her just as much as her wicked dreams. Hopefully more.

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hihihi this is may be a weird question but is your opinion on the main hypmic cast?

In brief:

(Spoiler alert: It was not brief. Stuck under a cut for length)

Ichirou: He's a good kid. I wasn’t super into him at first, as main protagonists very rarely hold my interest, but I appreciate him now for the struggles he goes through and the growth he’s experienced across the series.

Jirou: Jirou is also a good kid in his own way. I didn’t know what to do with him for a while, but now I feel like I understand him too. I don’t think he quite gets what makes Ichirou be as loved as he is, nor does he really understand what makes people love him for who he is. But that’s okay. He’ll get it someday.

Saburou: If you had tasked me as a fourteen year old to create an idealized anime boy sona, I would have come up with someone shockingly similar to Saburou. I’m fond of him. He can be a bit mean at times in a very fourteen way, but deep down, he’s a good kid too. All the BBs are good kids.

Samatoki: I just can’t not make fun of him. His posturing is so ridiculous to me that I am constantly filled with the urge to clown on him. Oh, you think you’re so tough? You think you’re a big tough guy? Well, I’m just a little bastard; what are you going to do about it? But underneath the posturing, I do feel sorry for him and admire his strengths a lot. He’s a good kid too under a very funny exterior.

Juuto: I’m enjoying learning more about him from the BB/MTC+ manga, but I’m a bit surprised at how much of a dick he is even deep down. Still, he has plenty of good qualities too, and I like him in a vague sort of way. I’d throw fruit at him over a fence but wouldn’t put any malice in it.

Riou: What a delightful individual he is. The BB/MTC chapter about him really resonated with me. For a character so outwardly obsessed with the military, Riou has an incredible understanding of the weight of his actions and such a deep appreciation for every living thing. There’s a lot of his depth to his simplicity, and the level of care he exhibits towards everyone is delightful to witness. An absolute favorite among the cast.

Ramuda: Self-recognition through the other (derogatory). In all seriousness, Ramuda’s story arc and actions are great narrative tools for me to examine some things about myself and grow to try to be a better, more considerate person towards myself and others. I want to see him achieve freedom and happiness.

Gentarou: I enjoy Gentarou quite a bit, although I think he gets overshadowed by the other members of Fling Posse at times due to my sheer passion for Dice and Ramuda. He’s my favorite character to translate at the moment, which is apparently heresy among Hypmic translators. More than the sheer fun of writing his witty banter, I find him to be a very intriguing individual, and I’m excited to learn more about him. I want his happiness too.

Dice: Oh, Dice... He’s a really good kid in a way that the BBs could never be. He’s deceptively good, and he does choose to hurt other people and himself in ways that characters like Ichirou don’t. But he also finds the goodness in the oddest places, like a person finding a coin in a cracked sidewalk, and that’s delightful. His narrative is one of the most compelling for me. What a champion of a character.

Jakurai: Wow, what a good foil for Ramuda. Let me bounce narratives off of you like a mirror. I’m slowly learning to find him compelling in his own right, however. This is also a self-recognition through the other (derogatory) scenario, but there’s more of an emphasis on the derogatory part.

Hifumi: A funny little individual bearing a lot of sadness and a whole lot more courage. Like most of Matenrou, I admire him a lot, but I think that Matenrou resonates much more strongly with other people than they do for me, so I prefer to sit back and let other people appreciate them. I think he’s very brave and very fun to read/write.

Doppo: The biggest fucking mood in existence. When you move past the stereotypical aspects, you end up with another character who has a lot of deep flaws but also an incredible amount of courage. I’m excited to see where they go with him, but again, I’ll sit back and let others take the first row here.

Kuukou: Having already drafted Saburou, if you came back to me at age eighteen and asked me to make an idealized anime boy sona, you would probably have ended up with a character astonishingly like Kuukou. He brings me sheer joy. Astonishingly, I feel like Kuukou has exhibited the least growth out of any of the cast, and yet I do not mind a bit. He is the closest to the perfect man I have ever met. I would drop everything to be this dude’s homie if he existed in real life. Just a champion individual.

Juushi: Juushi’s a good kid. I’m very fond of him and like writing him, but much like Matenrou, I feel like he does a lot more for other people than he does for me. Therefore, much of how I work with him is less, “How do I enjoy this character as a reader?” and more “How do I nurture the traits about him that other people love?”

Hitoya: Hitoya strikes me as a damn good person with a lot of heart who sometimes lets his anger drive him a bit too much. He’s also utterly ridiculous, of course, but I try to write him with as much strength as possible to be present behind his words. He honestly seems like a great person to know in real life, not simply as a fictional character, as well.

Sasara: I have to clown on him to assert dominance. Joking aside, I admire the depths of his character and the growth he’s shown over the series. He can be pretty callous at times and goes to odd lengths to get what he wants, but I think he’s now starting to realize how much his actions affect other people. For a while I was really in his camp as a hardcore Sasara lover (back before he was a main cast member - I love writing quirky minor characters), but now I approach him with the idea mentioned above, ie how I can present him for other people.

Roshou: Whenever he’s around the rest of Dotsu Hon, I think he’s kind of an idiot. I mean that in the best way possible. It’s very endearing. Yet moments when he’s on his own are where I think he best shines, and I would love to see more solo material for him. He’s an incredibly good support character, and I admire his passion for his students.

Rei: I really enjoy asshole antagonists, which is why I liked Ramuda for a while before the clone story came up behind me and struck me into the ground with its mighty fists. Now Rei fills this role. I would love to learn more about him and team up with the Buster Bros to pelt him with rotten eggs in a fun bonding activity. I’m sure there is some strong backstory that will absolve him of at least some of his shittiness, but until now, I’m still not excusing his whole abandoning his children thing, not to mention the human trafficking thing he pulled with Ramuda.

Otome: I hate translating her, if only because she and Rei frequently talk about things in extremely vague terms that I have no context for. It’s hard to make her sound idiomatic in English while also not shooting myself in the foot by accidentally filling in the wrong information. But with that aside, she’s okay. I like her, I guess. Her motivations are pretty interesting.

Ichijiku: Ichijiku was written for people who are sexually attracted to women, and I’m not at all, so I 100% approach her in terms of her pull on other people. She’s fun on her own, though, and I’m impressed at her ability to walk in high heels. Her complete disrespect for everyone but Otome brings me no end of entertainment in reading and writing.

Nemu: YOU. Maybe this is some stupid toxic masculinity thing, but I always feel embarrassed speaking affectionately about male characters but not at all about female characters. Therefore Nemu gets all of my loveposting. She’s a wonderful girl! She has such a strong spirit, and I’m completely overjoyed that she’s making her own decisions and becoming her own character defined on her own terms. I want to watch her grow up big and strong. Fuck yes, baby girl! Fuck it up! I’m very proud of her.

[amatchinwater]

Pairing: Steo

Warnings: None

Words: 1234 (I can't express the sheer joy this number gives me)

@steodiscord prompt: Mistletoe

---

“Leave those alone, we agreed to open them together,” Theo says, watching Corey try to sneak closer to the tree and reach for his presents and his Beta is pulled back by Mason. “I’m just saying, you should put a little cinnamon or nutmeg in it.” The Alpha calls over his shoulder, “it makes the rum less noticeable and just makes it taste better period.”

“When you make it, you can decide what goes in it,” Stiles snips from the kitchen where he’s making himself another glass.

It’s a stupid argument, but Theo really loves to rile the other boy up. It makes him turn this delicious shade of red even on his neck that the chimera just wants to bite. So he pushes Stiles as much as he can because it’s fun and he reacts so beautifully. Can anyone really blame him? Everyone teases their crush at one point or another.

Liam whines, “come on, it’s Christmas, can’t you two get along for one day?”

The chimera crosses his arms with a smirk as he leans against the wall of the archway. Ready as ever for a quip at the wolf, but Lydia purses her lips, “or you could just sleep together and put us all at ease.”

Theo blanches, can’t even deny it really, he’s been doing a pretty good job of not showing his feelings for Stiles. No need to scare him away with all of that, they’re barely even friends right now. You’re not gonna catch him making shit worse by admitting a goddamn word. Stiles squawks from the kitchen, there’s some clanking before he meets Theo in the archway, “I don’t want to fuck Theo!”

The chimera writes off the blip to his heart from the panic of clambering into the room not as a lie. Ready again to tease, but Lydia is quicker.

“Interesting, I said nothing about fucking him,” the banshee flashes what can only be described as an evil genius smirk. Theo drops his head to hide his laugh and Stiles’ jaw all but hits the floor. The chimera now understands why she’s one of the few people the human is actually afraid of. She’s too smart for her own fucking good. “Look up, boys,” she says all too sweetly.

Doing as told, the chimera lifts his head and sees a sprig of mistletoe hanging directly over their heads. It makes Theo stand stalk straight, eyes never leaving the plant as he audibly gulps. So much for not showing his feelings, right? This is what happens when you gain a level head and a conscience, you turn into a mess of a person with feelings and a stupid heart that doesn’t know how to control itself.

Who the fuck even hung the damn thing?

He doesn’t even notice the scent of nerves that definitely aren’t his own until Stiles starts sputtering beside him. When Theo looks back at him, he has a pretty blush burning all the way down his neck- far too dark to be from the once again drained spiked eggnog in his hand- and it takes everything in him to stifle a growl at the sight. Maybe, just maybe, the human is using snark and attitude to mask his own feelings just like the Alpha does. Interesting. He used to be able to read Stiles so well, but once he started to more than like- he won’t say that other L word unprompted if he can help it- the guy, the chimera has become something akin to an idiot.

It’d be annoying and aggravating if he wasn’t so fucking enraptured by Stiles. Completely head over heels for who knows how long now. He’s painfully in love with the human, there, he said it!

“You don’t have to. N-not i-if you don’t want to,” amber eyes shine at him with a flicker of hope. Probably the only person’s hope in the world that Theo wouldn’t want to crush, rather feed.

The Alpha opens his mouth to speak. But is once again cut off.

“That’s not how mistletoe works,” Josh reminds him from the couch with Tracy. Both of his Betas seem to thoroughly enjoy the exchange.

The kanima grins at them, “yeah, Stiles. So pucker up and get it over with finally.”

Finally? Does everyone know something that Theo doesn’t? Stiles doesn’t like him, as much as the chimera would love to change that. But when the Alpha turns back to the human, the blush has impossibly darkened, mouth caught in an open frown. Stiles collects himself mostly, muttering a small, “you really don’t have to.”

No better time like the present, right?

Theo wraps an arm around Stiles, splaying his hand at the small of the other boy’s back, pulling their chests flush. Wide bambi eyes and the small squeak makes the Alpha smirk and growl softly. Cupping Stiles’ cheek, Theo leans in and kisses Stiles with everything he’s got. Sliding their tongues together when the other boy opens his mouth in a gasp. Allowing himself this chance to take what he wants.

What he needs.

When they part, they’re breathless and both have beautifully swollen lips. “I didn’t think you liked me,” Stiles breathes out, eyes barely open, hands still resting on the Alpha’s chest.

“I don’t,” Theo smirks at the panic in the human’s eyes. Fuck keeping it bottled up, time to put himself out there for once. “I’ve loved you for a long time now,” before the other boy can do much more than widen his eyes at the admission, Theo cups the nape of his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. Easily forgetting that they’re surrounded by the pack and not alone.

“Okay, okay,” Liam groans, “I love you both, but can you do that somewhere I can’t see it? It’s time for presents.”

“Whatever you say, Liam,” Theo pulls back, staring into Stiles’ eyes as he says it. “Go play Santa, I know you want to.”

The human lights up and dashes towards the tree, distributing presents as Theo takes his spot on the armchair. Spreading his legs and propping an elbow on the armrest, just watching Stiles hand out the gifts, noticing two piles in front of his feet. Everyone looks to him when the last gift is given, “go nuts, you don’t have to wait for me.” Stiles tries to sit on the floor in front of him, but the chimera grabs his arm and pulls the other boy into his lap. “You sit here from now on,” Theo kisses the crook of his neck, wrapping an arm around his middle. “Good?”

“Definitely,” Stiles smiles warmly, turning his head enough to catch the Alpha’s mouth when he tries to kiss his neck again. “Open mine first,” the human bends down to pick up a small box wrapped in shiny black paper.

With a small smile, Theo tears the wrapping off and opens the little box. Written in Stiles’ erratic scribble are three words, ‘I love you,’ placed over a black and purple corded bracelet with a white lily.

“For Tara,” the other boy smiles sheepishly. “And I couldn’t think of a way to tell you that didn’t make me cringe, so somehow a note seemed better.”

Theo puts the bracelet on, leaning in to brush their noses together, “I love it, thank you.” Looking into gorgeous amber eyes he says, “and I love you, too.”

[chaozsilhouette]

Moonlit Musings

The night is such a perfect time to face one’s darkest truths. Shrouded in the moon’s light what can one do but admit to their flaws. It can be a time of rejuvenation and rebirth, only if you let it.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

It was a quiet night.

The full moon hung high in the heavens accompanied by millions of stars. Not a cloud to be seen, an ideal night for passions to run wild. Normally people would be taking out their telescopes or arranging romantic picnics.

Sadly, nights like these only filled Sun Wukong with dread. It was a night like this when he was finally able to return after the Journey. That was the night he learned he had lost a precious treasure.

When he returned, he expected to be greeted by his subjects until Macaque showed himself. He expected to be strangled as the pale furred monkie admonished him for his recklessness. He expected to watch as fury transformed into tearful joy as they embraced one another for the first time in over five hundred years.

But that wasn’t what happened.

The moment he set foot back onto Flower Fruit Mountain, he sensed something was very wrong. Like his previous return trips, his subjects greeted him with loud celebrations. The new mothers showed off their infants. The young ones wasted no time climbing all over him, taking in the scent of their king.

The immortal elders, however, looked concerned.

That was when he realized Macaque’s scent on the mountain was far too faint. Even the magical signature of his clones no longer felt fresh.

Macaque was nowhere to be found. The monkeys reported Macaque had returned a few years after he stopped by the mountain earlier in the Journey but not as his usual self. He didn’t respond to any of their questions. He didn’t even take time to check in on the infants. He didn’t say a word.

He just entered the mansion, but no one saw him leave.

Entering the mansion, Wukong dashed to their room desperate for answers. Opening the doors, he saw the room was horribly empty, sure all of his belonging were exactly as he remembered them, but all of Macaque’s stuff was gone. Macaque’s closet was empty and all his books had vanished. Despite his desperate hopes, there wasn’t any signs of a struggle or hidden messages to be found.

Macaque left of his own free will, but why?

He couldn’t bring himself to sleep in the bed they shared so many nights together. Every time he dared, he awoke expect to be greeted with the comforting warmth of familiar presence, instead he opened his eyes to a cold emptiness.

The lack of answers broke his heart, but he didn’t have time to start tearing the landscape apart trying to find him. Now that he was back for good, he had so many responsibilities to catch up on. He was determined to be a good king for his subjects and that meant ughthinking things through. Plus, he wanted to spend as much time with his master and brothers as possible.

Then there was the concerning fact all his previous allies had severed their alliance with him.

Apparently after all the fuss with the Demon Bull King, word had spread that Wukong broke their alliance by disrespecting protocol and attacking the royal family. Plus, his new position as a defender of humanity annoyed more than a few respectable demons. Combined with the sheer number of powerful demons he killed on the Journey cemented the idea that having an alliance with him would only end poorly.

He was banned from court meetings and the other kings in the surrounding areas wanted nothing to do with him. The chaotic nature of his past had finally caught up to him and in the worst possible way.

He was still recognized as the Monkey King of the Sun Court but was effectively blacklisted. No one wanted to mess with him, but they also didn’t want to interact with him. Not good for his mental health to say the least.

Simians are naturally social creatures. Wukong was used to constantly being around other people and learning new things. His time imprisoned was not kind. His first year of freedom had him constantly climbing over his brothers and master just to reassure himself that this was real.

And now that he couldn’t reconnect with old faces unless it was through a battle to the death…It forced him to delve into old memories. Memories that while sweet only made the emptiness more pronounced.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

Sun Wukong smiled as he watched Macaque’s reaction.

The six-eared monkie was furiously pinching the bridge between his eyebrows after he shattered a boulder with a careless headbutt as though it would make his life mercifully easier. “You’ll have to explain it to me again. What did you mean by ‘no longer under Yama’s jurisdiction’?”

“Exactly what I said. I was napping. Having some time to myself, when out of nowhere some idiots tried to take my soul to the afterlife.” Wukong explained as though having entities of death rip out your soul to drag it to the underworld was no big deal.

“Bet you weren’t happy.” Macaque couldn’t help but smirk at the flippant tone. He just made it so difficult to stay mad.

“Not in the slightest. I barged my way to the top brass, bunch of cowards called the Ten Kings (totally undeserved titles by the way) and demanded what the fuck was going on.” He was still ticked off even if the payoff was sweet. Seriously! Did immortality mean nothing to these cowards? They couldn’t even play it off as him dying in battle. He was in the peak of his youth! “Can you believe they tried to play it off as a misunderstanding? Should have smacked the loudmouth when I was there.”

“So, through a series of ridiculous events, you erased your name from the records of the dead.” Macaque could easily piece together the rest from there. No matter how ridiculous the odds. He learned never to bet against his friend when a problem could be handled with brute strength or intimidation. If it didn’t look like such an answer was possible, clearly, they hadn’t experienced the force of a determined Wukong. Something about facing a ticked off monkie of practically infinite strength and invulnerability left harden conquerors pissing themselves.

It was hilarious.

“Not just mine. In my infinite wisdom, I erased the names of several of the monkey inhabitants of esteemed Flower Fruit Mountain, including yours.” Wukong playfully booped Macaque’s nose.

Turning away to hide a light blush, Macaque scoffed to cover his embarrassing response. “Typical. I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without you doing something insane.”

“I know. I’m just that awesome.”

“So what? Are we now double immortal?” That was the question wasn’t it. Due to their master’s instructions, they were immortal and ageless, so what exactly would this give them? He didn’t feel any different. He couldn’t sense any new powers or changes in his instincts.

His counterpart, however, had other things on his mind. “Who cares. All I know is that those idiots have no control over our souls anymore.” And with that the King took his rightful place across Macaque’s lap as the other returned to his scrolls.

Wukong instead took the time to examine his friend, who finally gained enough confidence to fully drop his glamour and embrace his true appearance.

He still couldn’t believe Macaque actually had six ears. The weird part was how natural they looked, almost as if seeing him with only two was bizarre. The coolest part was how each pair softly glowed a different color. Blue. Purple. Red. Sometimes Wukong would just stare at them, imagining that he could see glittering stars emanating from that glow.

Suddenly those magnificent ears twitched. Macaque didn’t bother looking up from the bamboo scroll. “A trespasser...multiple, boar and vulture demon. Another hunting party”.

“Again. Ugh. Don’t these idiots ever give up!” Don’t get him wrong, Wukong loved a good fight. What better way to prove how superior you are to others than to steal what’s most precious to them? But even he was starting to grow bored with the sheer number of hunters that thought kidnapping his subjects was a quick cash grab.

After the fifth army he returned in pieces to the surrounding upstart lords, you’d think they’d take a hint.

Thankfully he wasn’t the only powerhouse on the mountain. “I haven’t tasted blood in a while. Why don’t I defend the kingdom while your highness enjoys a show?” Macaque set aside his reading material, eyes glittering with bloodlust.

Wukong returned the smirk with one of his own. “I’m always up for a good thrashing. One request: make it glorious.”

“Don’t I always.” Macaque joked as he retrieved his spear from his own shadow.

Wukong summoned his cloud and claimed a good vantage point. Once again, he marveled at his friend’s hearing. Judging by the distance it would have been at least three hours before he would have detected their presence.

Kicking back, he transformed some hair into a fruit platter and waited for the screams.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

To this day, Wukong knew Macaque was alive. Thanks to his efforts combined with the intense training, the monkie was double immortal. Besides, that monkkie was way too stubborn to die. He would survive purely on spite if he had to.

Macaque left, but why?

While he may have effectively isolated himself, that didn’t mean he didn’t hear about the other courts. A few centuries ago, he heard rumors about the formation of a new court by someone under the title of the Macaque King. Supposedly they were a powerful monkie who knew way more than he had the right to. For a brief moment, Wukong dared to hope it was his old friend, but it didn’t last. The few recounts he caught described him with black fur. Besides, he knew how much Macaque hated the title of King. Even when Wukong offered him the position as co-ruler of his kingdom, the pale monkie adamantly refused.

Still, he was curious.

For a few weeks he could have sworn he detected a familiar scent hiding underneath Mk’s. And he wasn’t the only one who noticed. A few of the immortal monkeys questioned him on the mango infused scent and what his plans were. It was almost too much to take in.

To think he returned to teach his student instead of showing his face. It hurt just to think about it. He chose to ignore the beckoning scent until it became impossible to ignore MK’s leap in progress. Then it just vanished like it hadn’t been testing his patience. Like it hadn’t brought him to the brink of shaking the kid upside down until he confessed where his old friend was hiding. The kid probably grew wise, or someone told him to change his bathing habits, and by the next training session it was all but gone.

Dragging his hand down his face, Wukong tried to reevaluate his thoughts.

Getting mad at the kid wasn’t going to solve anything. He knew he hadn’t been the most attentive master. Hell, the whole hammer exercise at its core was a desperate attempt to remove a painful reminder of better times. His master would be disappointed in how he was running away from his problems, but would encourage him to take the steps to be better. Zhu Bajie would be a sarcastic little shit, trying to get him riled up so the monkie would prove him wrong. Sha Wujing would sit him down and wouldn’t let him leave until they talked everything through.

He had to make things right with the kid. He deserved a better master. And this New Years he was gonna get one.

He spoke, praying the winds would carry his voice to his Warrior.

“Macaque. I know it’s been a while, but…I-I want to talk. I know you’re out there, somewhere I can’t reach. I miss sparring with you. I miss lazy days napping in the shade by your side. I miss defending the mountain as we held contests to see who could take out the most trespassers before their common sense kicked in. I miss you. Please come home.”

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

The moon was high in the sky. Stars danced in the heavens as the faintest hints of vibrations pulsed through the concrete from the late-night dance clubs. MK lay awake, his mind struggling to make sense of it all.

Ever since Macaque disappeared in order to remain undetected, he kept thinking about his relationship with the Monkey King. Sure, he was being trained and he was definitely making progress. The monkie was still on his case for supposedly cheating on him with another mentor. Nothing MK said or did could make the monkie think otherwise. Thankfully, he was no longer shooting him suspicious glares, but the underlying tension remained.

The sad truth is they just weren’t that close.

He would have expected to learn more about the Monkey King on a personal and emotional level, but he just couldn’t get past that wall. Their training sessions felt more like just the Monkey King arranged just to get it over with. There was no passion at all.

Okay, perhaps that last bit was an exaggeration.

When you peered past the arrogance and pride, you found one socially awkward monkie. It was similar to Red Son the more he thought about it, both seemed to find it difficult to talk to or relate to others in a friendly setting. Sure, Monkey King projected a friendly demeanor and called him “bud”, but if he didn’t know any better he could have sworn the monkie was afraid to take that final step.

The last few sessions had taken a bit of a turn in a positive direction as Sandy would say. Maybe Monkey King decided it was time to make a change? Maybe this was all a trick so MK would lower his guard and reveal Macaque’s identity? Maybe he was just tired and should have conked out an hour ago?

Maybe.

Reality was so different from the legends. When Tang first introduced him to the Monkey stories, he was hooked. He loved listening to the tales of the infamous trickster that flipped off every major religious figure with unbridled confidence. Meeting the Great Sage in the flesh was like a dream come true until he was exposed to the King’s less pleasant tendencies.

Mk couldn’t help but wonder just how much confidence the Monkey King had in his training skills. Did he ever train someone before? Could MK talk to someone about this without appearing even more ungrateful than he already looked? Why didn’t he stop Red Son from unsealing his father when he was there? Why didn’t he simply seal the entire family when they were reunited? Why did the five times immortal sage decide that now he needed to train a disciple? Was Monkey King not telling him something important?

He had so many questions and not even the foggiest idea of where to start looking. Or perhaps he did?

The truth was he missed Macaque. The dark-furred monkie may have only taught him for a month, but the progress he made and the level of care he was exposed to made him feel as though he had finally unlocked the ability to fly.

He missed the regular grooming. He missed learning about the demon community. He missed learning new ways to mess with Red Son through appropriate court manners.

Watching the fire user freeze up at the term “honorable prince of the Iron Bull Court” just made him laugh, when his hair combusted it really matched his face. Now that he thought about it, were those horns starting to peek out of his forehead? And maybe the slightest hint of a tufted tail swiping the bottom of his coat? Seeing the demon frantically compose himself was a treat he didn’t know he needed. He still had the video saved as one of his favorites, didn’t hurt that Mei caught it at the perfect angle.

Oh yeah, he missed that.

With any luck, New Years would be the start of something better.

§~~~~§~~~~§~~~~§

On an island that remained surrounded by unquenchable storms, a single black-furred monkie sat cross-legged in a secluded part attached to the palace. All around him fruit trees and bushes bore a hefty bounty releasing an intoxicating scent of life.

Ears twitched.

Macaque opened his eyes, aroused from his meditation. It was odd. He had the faintest sensation that someone had been talking about him. Now that wasn’t exactly unusual, he made plenty of allies and enemies across the centuries. What was odd was that the voice sounded like someone he once cherished.

But that couldn’t be right.

The deceptive silence of his personal orchard gave him no answers. Not that he really expected it to.

For some reason he refused to identify, Macaque turned to the single peach tree in the grove. A tribute from his past and a reminder of his mistakes. But it was also a valuable resource once he learned the truth about the peach’s properties. He used its powers to protect many happy relationships, if only it could have helped him so long ago.

No matter.

He still had many projects to work on, including one successor just rife with insecurities. He honestly felt bad ducking out as he did. If things were different, he would have offered him a new life. His Stars were always happy to welcome a new member into their budding community.

As a bonus, his presence would have interrupted their constant attempts to set him up with new dates. He adored their efforts but being paired with partners who only wanted power or he would view only as friends was not something he enjoyed. Although watching them mentally destroy those they didn’t find suitable for him was quite entertaining.

Either way, New Years was coming up fast and he still needed to approve a few changes. His Stars were determined to make sure this event topped last years in every way possible, but they had to make sure they didn’t set the orchard on fire again. Or worse, they could launch the fireworks into the storm barrier. He wasn’t sure why or how, but the tornadoes and clouds turned different colors as explosions rang throughout the night.

It was beautiful but lost its charm after the third day.

[astaroth1357]

Long Distance Longing with the Brothers

Want a little angst and sweetness? I love how this turned out and I think it’s a new favorite for me. I honestly should wait to post it... But I have no patience, I love it too much. Weirdly enough, thank Taylor Swift’s new album for giving me this idea. Go figure. 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: Angst, implied starvation

Intro:

The brothers knew it was going to happen eventually. The year can't last forever, and at some point they were going to have to say goodbye to their human for the break… But that didn't make the situation any easier. Nobody likes being so far from the one they love. It was only a matter of time before our boys are reaching a breaking point...

Lucifer

Lucifer has never really had a reason to not to work before… Like, yeah there are those days where things get stressful and he takes a step back, but actually taking an extended period of time to just... not work? A "vacation" if you will? He’s never had the desire. What would he even do with himself?

Well, for the first time in literal God knows how many centuries, he had an answer for that question. He was going to be with MC.

And that's exactly what he told Diavolo when he finally accepted that missing the MC was negatively affecting his work. 

He wanted a… "vacation."

Diavolo had never once thought Lucifer would ever ask, and to be fair the man never thought he would either, but he's more than happy to give his friend a few days off to visit his dear human.

Whatever brief hit that his pride took by having to admit that he needed a break was more than made up for by finally seeing the MC again. He knew he missed them, painfully aware of that fact, but just the sight of them waiting to meet him outside the portal was enough to nearly take his breath away…

His first vacation was sure to be paradise. 

Mammon 

Oh, the distance was killing this poor boy. Any day where he can’t have the MC on his arm feels worse than when he's on a losing streak…

Speaking of a losing streak, he's been stuck in one for a whole month without his beloved partner in crime with him. Did he lose his lucky charm or was he just too down in the dumps to gamble well? Anyone's guess.

Well he got fucking sick of it. He wanted to see the MC, ASAP. But how would he get to the human world…?

It takes a week but he gets an idea. It took another for it to actually trigger.

Like clockwork one of the witches he's regularly in debt to, one that just happens to be a bad gambler herself, summoned him out to give her a little extra luck. Usually, he'd just kick whatever slot machine she’s parked herself at and be done with it but this time he's got to ask… How long does that summon spell last, eh?

He made a new sort of bargain. She gets to take Goldie out for a spin if she gave him some time in exchange… 24 hours to be exact.

He didn't waste a second after striking the deal because he had a lot of flying to do.

The MC probably didn't expect to hear frantic knocking on their door at the break of dawn, nor to find a beat tired and disheveled Mammon leaning outside it….

But he embraced them for all it's worth anyway. If it meant feeling them in his arms again, he'd trade away the whole world if he had to...

Leviathan 

He… didn’t do so well with the distance. Like at all. He'd mope around the house, constantly bemoaning how unfair things were. Not even his favorite games can give him any joy because those were the games he used to play with MC…

Sneaking in the occasional video call was pretty much the only thing that could make him smile anymore. Just seeing their face felt like getting a cold drink in the middle of a scorching desert… But he wanted more.

Thankfully, the MC themselves gave him a really, really good idea…

For two weeks straight, Levi seemed to get out of whatever funk he was in to help out around the House… Like, really help out. Suck-up levels of help out. It creeped everybody out...

After a time he finally approached Lucifer and made a simple request. There was an anime convention going on in the human world soon and he'd like to attend…

The ulterior motive for this little visit is practically written on the wall, but he'd been acting so damn unnerving for the past two weeks Lucifer just gave him permission to make him stop.

When the MC agreed to meet him on the opening day, they said they'd be dressed up as someone he'd recognize. Frankly, he was expecting Henry or maybe Ruri-chan but he was completely floored to see them waiting for him dressed in a familiar black hoodie with coral-like horns on their head and a carefully crafted serpent's tail behind them.

To this day he still can't decide what made him happier: seeing the love of his life so adoringly dressed as him or finally feeling their body collide with his after they came running to each other outside the convention hall...

In the end it probably doesn't matter because for that whole day alone, he finally felt like he had everything he could of ever wanted right there with him.

Satan 

Satan's not one for idle moping so when he felt that yearning in his chest finally hit a tipping point, he didn't whine. He didn't complain. He got up and did something about it.

Teleportation magic is tricky to master and dangerous to perform even with sufficient skill. One wrong move and you could end up smearing yourself across three different continents…

But like that would stop him.

He pulled out every book he could find on the subject, researched for days, then practiced for weeks. First on books and apples, then on some of Lucifer’s belongings.

He had to keep making new excuses to throw Lucifer off the scent (especially after he started sending some of his shirts away to different parts of the house) but after some time, it finally paid off.

Satan was probably the last person the MC would have expected to see show up in their room randomly one night, sitting casually by a lamp and reading a book like he didn't just master time and space just to come say hi.

But who was going to be all that picky when they could finally shower their nerdy cat-lover in all the love and kisses they've both been missing for months now?

Asmodeus 

If you took Asmo at his word, then the sheer depths of longing and despair he was experiencing while the MC was away could far outweigh that of anyone else to ever have existed in the history of all time.

He was the Avatar of Lust, desire was in his nature. Couple that with a burning need to have his lover as close to him as he possibly could and it was safe to say he was losing his mind!

This might have been the reason Solomon finally gave in after his 16th-ish time trying to beg the sorcerer to help him. He really was quite pitiful in this state...

When Solomon told Asmo that he could smuggle him out of the teleportation gate between the Devildom and human world ONLY if he could magically disguised his appearance, he was kind of expecting Asmo to refuse. This was Asmo he was talking about. He honestly thought that he'd rather die than deprive the world of his beauty so selfishly…

The world is full of surprises, ain't it?

No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, the MC was suddenly mowed over by a "stranger" running at them at top speed like an Olympic sprinter. It’d probably have been pretty scary before Solomon lifted the enchantment shortly after to reveal their demon’s gorgeously familiar face.

Solomon wasn't going to let him stay too long, lest he incur the wrath of Lucifer, but Asmo couldn't care less. Be it a thousand hours or a few short seconds, he could always find a way to make his time with the MC last a lifetime...

Beelzebub

Fun fact, Hell freezes over a little every time Beel says "I'm not hungry…" No. Seriously. A freezing wind blasts across the entire Devildom like the realm itself gets a sudden chill...

So imagine the levels of panic that went through pretty much everyone there when his appetite started to fail him.

It's not like the poor baby could help it, food just tasted so much better when the MC was there that eating without them was like trying to digest actual disappointment… He got tired of trying after a while.

A few days of this behavior were worrying, but when he started to get a little thinner the family went into an uproar, starting with Belphie but soon spreading to the rest of the House as well.

Lucifer's soft spot for the twins may have influenced his decision. I mean, it was awfully generous of him to get Diavolo to approve of an fully sanctioned, planned meeting between Beel and the MC. He probably wouldn’t have offered that to anyone else...

Not that Beel cared about all that background favoritism anyway. Hell, on the day that he was finally allowed to see them, he couldn't be bothered by anything other than holding the MC close and hoping they'd never let him go again.

His appetite did return to him eventually, of course, but as long as he had his human with him even the cheapest street taco tasted like a fine five star-meal.

Belphegor 

Frankly, Belphegor was sick and tired of missing people.

Ever since the Celestial War he missed Lilith. When he was stuck in the attic, he missed Beel. And now that the MC was away he was supposed to just sit patiently and miss them too? No way. Not happening. Something about that had to change.

It wasn’t the first time he'd gone to Lucifer in an angry huff, but admittedly he had more ammo than usual...

There was a… discussion between the two. It went on for a couple hours… There may have been some words to the effect of, "Don't you think you owe me?" exchanged… 

Honestly, it was kind of amazing Belphie didn't end up in another attic "timeout" by the end of it. But he got what he wanted, so what's to complain about?

With a little persuasion on his part, Lucifer managed to get Diavolo to approve of a weekly visit for the two, SO LONG as Belphie stayed on his best behavior in the human world.

There wasn’t really much worry about him acting up, though, since he'd have his nap buddy back. It would be pretty hard to be a threat to humanity when he was too busy staying snuggled up to his favorite person until well past noon...

[rouiyan]

𝘚𝘖𝘔𝘌𝘖𝘕𝘌 𝘛𝘖 𝘉𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎 𝘏𝘖𝘔𝘌 [ 𝘫.𝘫𝘩 ]

⧏ part of the 2020 home for the holidays collective ⧐

synopsis — “if you’ve been waiting for fallin’ in love, babe, you don’t have to wait on me.” (sanctuary - joji)

✧ medstudent!jaehyun x (fem.) reader (featuring older brother and medstudent!johnny) ✧ college au, strangers to lovers, brother’s best friend au, home for thanksgiving au

✧ genres : fluff, romcom, slowburn ✧ word count : 10.2k ✧ disclaimers : swearing, a few heated makeout sessions.

author’s note — had to add slow burn because this shit fucking crawls. y/n's characterization is mostly based off of that song (sanctuary - joji). also, to the anon that requested this, what seems like so long ago, thank you. thank you for being patient, and thank you for giving me a shitload of inspiration from that one ask. i can say with a full heart that this was truly such a joy to write.

out of either sheer luck, or perhaps the notion that it was really meant to be, your parents were best friends with your best friend's parents, long before the two of you were conceived in the same year, and also around the same time of year. and though it's a feat in itself for that to even happen, for your parents, best friends themselves, to have given birth at an approximated time to each other, for the two of you to get along in actuality after the birth, and for the two of you to get along for so long, on top of all that your two families happened to move right next door to each other. at least that wasn't a coincidence. 

jieun was only two weeks younger than you, fetus you was in a hurry. and though the two of you were raised attached by the hip, always seen with the same hairdos, pencil cases and later hair colors, phone cases, she would've still been attached to your hip, had you not parted ways in college. not that that could even remotely stop the two of you from facetiming at each opportunity and calling each other while completing assignments and studying. hectic as college life could be, your lifelong friendship with jieun held strong, there was no other person you'd rather your best friend be.

but if there was anyone else that could rank in your top three closest confidantes besides jieun, jieun, and jieun, it'd be johnny, your older brother by a few years. 

granted that he always left your memes on read and never bothered to reply in the family chat, he still called, maybe once a week or so, to let you ramble on about some exciting happening at some party you went to last week or how your apartment started housing trails of ants that freaked you out to the core. he'd listen and when you'd finish, you'd in turn ask about his week, only to be met with the same old, same old, "just busy studying, that's all," not that you were expecting much from a fourth year medical student. you'd never, not once, asked him to elaborate, already knowing that the slew of words would be too much for your comparatively lacking intellect, also known as your humanities major. though in your last call with him, he had let slip that he took up on this medical volunteer program that happened to be a lot nearer to your hometown than either of your schools which meant, for the first time in nearly two and a half years, he'd be home for thanksgiving. 

your spinny chair, pink and plastic, acted as a dentists' stool as you maneuvered atop it effortlessly, going from one side of the room to another, armfuls of clothes in hand and right shoulder craned upwards your ear to jab your phone in place. "yeah no shit i'm packing, i have to leave in like," you grit your teeth and allow a moment to glance at the clock on the wall opposite of you, "negative three minutes, it seems."

jieun's voice is slightly muffled by the sound of your chair wheels scraping against the wood floor, "ugh, don't tell me you're leaving this early because of that stupid 'fear.'" despite your distracted, busy, fazed-out state, you still manage to clap back with the same thing you say every time she brings up how irrational she thinks this 'fear' to be. "it's perfectly valid, being scared of driving in the dark is like the equivalent to, i don't know, oh- it's the same as you being scared of watching horror movies."

"hey," she whines, "those are two very different things." completely disagreeing, you fold the last shirt into its rightful spot before dragging the zipper shut on your suitcase. jieun picks up on this, "you done? leaving soon?" you straighten yourself, dusting off the flint on your left sleeve, "leaving right now actually."

"right, then. i really wish we could drive back together, it sucks driving alone." mindlessly agreeing with her, you shuffle your suitcase out the threshold of your apartment. she perks up again whilst you board the elevator, "next time you better find someone to drive with you." you pat down your hair in the contorted reflection of the elevator doors, the number on the screen above it steadily decreasing, "who though? no one even lives near us." her eye roll is as apparent in your head as it is in real life, "i know that, why do you think we've been driving alone all these years. i'm saying like, you should find someone to bring home."

"someone to...oh, you mean like a boyfriend?"

"yeah." you're quiet for a bit, either because you've just reached the lobby floor or because you don't quite have the words to respond to her. you find them just as you exit the complex, the cold air nipping at the skin of the rips in your jeans, "i'm not sure how plausible that is, for you maybe, i don't know about me."

with a grunt, you lift the trunk of your car, another grunt is given as you heave your behemoth suitcase into its place. jieun speaks just as you slam the compartment shut, you almost miss her words, "y/n, you have to be honest with yourself. avoiding relationships isn't going to answer your questions. you just have to get on out there again and see for yourself. it's been years, things have changed, you've changed." you click your tongue at that. she'd touched on a touchy topic that she knew would irk you. jieun doesn't bother to press any further, both of you know well enough. instead, she brings the conversation to a close with a, "right, i have to get going on packing now, i'll see you tonight."

she hangs up and you're left teetering on the fine line between driving normally, humming along to the music, and driving with the morbid thoughts that are on the precipice of infiltrating your bright mindset on returning home. you don't pay them much mind, after all, your best friend is right when she says it's been years and over those years, you've had an abundance of time to master the art of either succumbing to those feelings or ignoring them entirely. so you choose to ignore them, driving normally, humming along to the music as you pull into the nearest highway entrance.

an hour or so passes, you haven't been paying attention to any of the directional signs, when a slowed love song (read: falling in love by sex after cigarettes) plays just as you offhandedly begin to doze off, a very dangerous prospect that you're sure your luck wouldn't have been as lenient with were you not the only vehicle on the highway for as far as your sights could span.

you guess that it's around then that your mind starts sputtering back the nonsense of your past, of lovers, boyfriends, almost-boyfriends. to be fair, your track record is verily clean, nothing notable as to how many you've dated, how many times you've been in love, no serious breakups to count. perhaps that's why it's difficult to stomach the idea of a putting yourself out there. you don't prefer to think of it much but every once in awhile you deem it okay to accept the fact that you are simply not one of the crowd. where before in high school everyone seemed so eager to stick their faces into one another, you stuck your face in books. where even now in college, everyone seemed all too eager to find the love of their life, someone to settle down with. and while a part of you was glad to see that drunken hookups were now frowned upon in your year of college, you've never ventured into the territory of flirting, even in the times you were subjected to it yourself.

you've dated, but even then, you're not sure if dating is for you, if being someone's other half is the way you want to end up. and you're even more unsure if that's because of the lack of excitement you received from your past relationships or just because you aren't one for love. the possibilities of being aromantic have crossed your mind a handful of times but you would really love to chalk it up to the fact that you just haven't met someone that has yet to bring out that side of you. for some reason, your really hope that's the case.

the sun is fast setting when you realize that returning home is possibly the one escape you have from yourself, the one place where all your cherished and valued memories are tethered to. some of your friends, either from your childhood or those that you've gotten to know, would say that your mediocre love life was the trade off for your blessed childhood. you grew up with parents that were prepared to be parents, that understood the complexities that came with your generation, parents that weren't afraid to teach you why things are done instead of just how they are done. you don't mind the trade off, you don't think.

you don't mind it one bit, especially when you round the corner of your block, just as the sun is two minutes away from escaping to the night, and you see your parents in the driveway, jieun's parents in her own, all beaming and smiling, visible even from a distance. your mom's hands are frantic in the air where your dad's are crossed, face gruff and pulled into a tight smile. your heart wishes for nothing more, when you pull into the driveway, your mother running dangerously at the car door, just to envelope you in a warm hug the second you retrieved your keys from the ignition and propped the door open, your dad in tow despite the rigid look on his face.

jieun's parents are on their way over as well as your mother exclaims, "to think we'd have all four of us under the same roof this year!"

your father is shaking his head, the taut line of his lips now drawing into a smile, "your mother cried when she first got the call from your brother." your mother pulls away from you for a split second, enough for you to reach over to your dad for a one-armed hug. her hand is stroking down the back of your head when she next speaks, "and he's bringing someone, jaehyun i think, poor boy couldn't fly home this year."

your arm falls from your dad's shoulder, absentmindedly in response, "jaehyun? who?"

the sneaky smile your mom gives reminds you of jieun’s, except you wouldn't tell your mom to 'go eat shit.' you smile back in confusion as she supplies, "jaehyun, johnny's friend from the volunteer program. smart and he's got the looks, at least that's what your brother's facebook is telling me."

jieun's mom is crossing to the back of your car to get your luggage for you and you hurry over in haste to reassure her you could do it on your own, thankful. the trunk slams down and the wheels of your suitcase are scraping across the paved stone of your driveway as the parents make small talk. "i'll have to remember to make an extra batch of cranberry sauce for tonight, we'll have eight whole people to feed." your mom hits her with an amused yet disbelieving scowl on her face, "i doubt you'll have to, it's really only two more people than usual."

"two whole men at that."

chuckling, you prop your luggage at the doorway, hand slipping a hair tie from your wrist and pulling back your hair from your face, "let's get started then."

it's a thanksgiving ritual to begin prepping hours, and sometimes even days, prior to the definite day and while your mother and jieun's had taken it upon themselves to get everything all ready to be cooked, the act of cooking was still needed and all hands were required. the turkey had to be in and out of the oven within the next three hours, much of the premade mashed (and unmashed) potatoes had to be reheated, as well as the gravy. english muffins were waiting to be toasted over, and the green bean casserole was far from completed. you got to work on the pumpkin pie, however, your usual dedication over the past few years and ever since your mother had taught you her flawless family recipe. 

the doorbell rings just as you finish drying off your hands on the kitchen towel beneath the sink. your mom calls for you to go get the door, she's busy with the crust of your pumpkin pie. hands rubbing along the fabric of your black-washed jeans in a hurry to capture any excess water, you make your way to the front door with quickened steps. the air is biting cold when you open up, the skies are dark and the moon is at large, but that isn't the first thing you notice. who you had thought would be your best friend, bags under her eyes from driving hours upon hours, was actually two very tall guys. so tall that you took two steps back before realizing that one was your older brother and one was certainly not in your registry of people you knew.

you clear your throat, taking a step forwards as the two of them busy with slipping their shoes off, heads turned down. "so i'm assuming that you're jaehyun?"

the unrecognized man's head upturns, and you note that good god, he's good looking. "that'd be me, yes." good god, his voice is bone-chilling. "right." your hands gesticulate with the oddest of motions. johnny gives you a weird look before stepping past you and speaking over his shoulder to his friend, "come on in, jae." good god, even his nickname rings in your head.

you shut the door behind him and press your back onto the cold front, watching as the two of them meander down the hall and into the kitchen, engrossed in conversation. you watch as jaehyun retreats into your house and you're relieved to see that he had one thing that kept him from being too perfect.

good god, he had one hell of a flat ass.

shifting your weight back onto both feet, you shake your head from any leftover thoughts and move on, as you should, back to tending to your duties in the kitchen. in the short moments you were absent, your mother had finished prepping the pumpkin pie. you found your mouth watering at the sight of it, though it was still very much raw. thanksgiving foods have always had some effect on you, or maybe it was just this time of year in general that made you jittery and excited at every turn of a corner. 

thirty minutes later, too much has changed. those who weren't assigned a role in the kitchen, namely your brother and his friend, were relocated from milling about the living room to the dining area which, as time progressed, only got more hectic, platters of food coming hot and steaming from the stoves and ovens. also within the short time frame, jieun had made her grand entrance, scaring the shits out of everyone by using her own key (the one you'd given her in the fifth grade) instead of ringing the doorbell to announce her presence.

you plop yourself next to her with a huff that escapes your lips. there's nothing like the adrenaline that comes with preparing a big dinner and there's nothing like the satisfaction that comes with sitting right before it. the turkey is the last to come by the hands of your father. cheers and ushers of safety are voiced as the piping hot slab of meat completes the spread of the table, the oven mitts discarded to the side and finishing touches of garnish are added atop. even jieun, who is almost always known for her picture perfect instagram stories, is suffice with only thirty seconds of point and shoot before letting everyone dig in. you guess that it's the aromatic scent from the turkey that overcomes her imposing social media duties, it's overcome you as well.

no one pays a mind to pleasantries and small talk for the duration of the first twenty or so minutes, the only thing that sounds aloud being the clinking of cutlery against plates, the busy chewing, and occasional 'mms' and 'oohs.' it stays that way until another scent is introduced, this time from the kitchen, presumably the pumpkin pie in the oven. scurrying, you leave the serviette on your seat as you brush between the wall and the chairs to get to the kitchen, mumbling small apologies in your rush. the oven light is flicked on and you let out a sigh of relief when the pastry looks to still have a ways to go. not wanting to have to go back and forth from the dining room to the kitchen, you take a seat on the ground before the oven window, opting to stare and let your mouth do its habitual watering. 

maybe two minutes into your little daze, a soft something is pressed into the side of your right thigh. you give a quick glance and a smile as your full grown, though still tiny, corgi nudges the fabric of your jeans. soon enough, lucy's snuggled in your lap and the two of you simply stare into the abyss of the oven, waiting. with a hand fondling the fur of her ear, you suspect you might be on the verge of slipping into a light slumber when you feel a hand, plausibly not your own, on your shoulder.

you whip around, ducking for no apparent reason, in surprise. the man, jaehyun, crouches beside you. he holds it out the oven mitts in your direction, a kind smile adorning his features, "here, thought you might need these." an apprehensive smile of your own begins to form as you take the mitts from him. "thanks," you muse in response, gaze returning first down to your family dog, and then back to the oven window. to even more of your surprise, jaehyun takes a seat next to you on the floor, legs crossed and hands folded neatly. a glance over and you see that his eyes are also trained on the pie, though his mind is working double speed at how to set forth a conversation.

"so," he starts, effectively transitioning your attention onto him, "how long have you known johnny?" your eyes narrow in on him and your brows furrow, "i- what? i'm his sister though, so like...since i was born?"

"oh, you?" you nod, "oh i thought," a hand darts to the scruff of his neck then moves in a vague gesture towards the dining room, "i thought she-"

"no, that's jieun," you're sidetracked with a small yelp as lucy clambers out of your lap, retracing your sights, "i'm sorry, i just realized i haven't really introduced myself." you lick your lips, the smile on your face only growing wider to compensate for the growing awkwardness, "i'm y/n, johnny's little sister." lucy's sniffing at jaehyun's feet and you tug on her hind legs, you'd think such a friendly dog would be more courteous with guests. you're trying to get her to back up a bit before she can follow through with her licking. jaehyun only chuckles at the slew of apologies that leave your mouth, his hand even coming to rub at the fur of her chin, "look at this cutie."

"she's a bit rude to be a cutie, don't you think?" struggling, you move to your knees to get better leverage on her, "lucy, no- lucy be a dear and stop hounding on him, please." the anxiety in your system rockets when her tongue makes an appearance. your nose scrunches at the thought of socks wet with dog salivation. the more frantic you become, the more amused jaehyun becomes, seeming unbothered by the dog eating away at his foot. 

"i'm so sorry, gosh i wish she'd-" 

just then, the kitchen timer rings from the counter and you're almost screeching at this point, your attention bring divided across fifty different things all at once. "fuck, okay. can you get a hold of her? i needa get this thing out of the oven."

"yeah, yeah i got her," jaehyun hoists lucy by her sides into his arms, not the best course of action, he thinks, as the dog begins to lick at his neck. yes, delectable, from his foot to his neck. you want to bury yourself within the folds of your embarrassment but instead, you power off the oven, slip on the mitts, and draw the door open. catching a whiff of the pumpkin and spice, a sigh escapes your lips. jaehyun's eyes are lit when he trails behind you back into the dining room, like a puppy himself. 

lucy joins the commotion as everyone settles down with their slices, her paw barely grasping onto the table as she perches atop jaehyun's lap. you want to maybe rein her back into your own with the possibility that she could completely ravage the table setting at any given moment, but she looks content. jaehyun looks content.

"so what's this volunteer program? that you and johnny are doing, i mean." you sit up in curiosity as jieun speaks from besides you. both your parents are, as of now, far too drunk to be allowed to involve with the guest. jieun takes it upon herself, an act of graciousness you suppose. his fork is set on the napkin beside as he swallows the bite, "we're just helping some preliminary research right now, working with some kids coping with autism."

you chime in, "that's really sweet. how long are you guys gonna be here?" johnny notes the way you talk, the voice you use with people you don't know all too well. he eyes jaehyun, who replies in that one voice, the deep one that he knows girls fall for all the damn time. "our research head is pretty generous this time so we've been given a week. that should be enough time to get to know you guys better, i hope." johnny dismisses it and instead supplies, "yeah, of course, he's only just a door away anyways."

you take a pause from your drink, thankful you weren't in the middle of a sip for you were sure to have spit it out, "what? what do you mean ‘a door away’?" your brother appears nonchalant as ever, slipping forkful of cream into his mouth and halfway gurgling, "he's staying with us, didn't mom tell you?"

you try to keep your expression in check, you're confused as to why you even have to in the first place, "for the week?"

"yeah, the week."

jieun gives you a look, perhaps she knew but figured you knew as well, perhaps she's just as confused at your reaction as yourself. "oh." the tension in the air is indecipherable to you, and you only, while johnny reads it well. a wiggle of his eyebrows is given, "excited?"

there's no audible response that comes from you, a few soft nods and a tight-lipped smile pointed at jaehyun is given. the man himself looks to be thinking about something as well.

you stir around until the arm of the couch holds you securely. trying not to mind the fact that jaehyun was moving to sit in the spot to your right, again, you shove your hands under your thighs to garner warmth in the aftermath of the cold water you'd used to wash the buttload of dishes. jieun sits on the ground in front of you and on the other side of jaehyun is johnny, whom you direct your question to, "so are we doing movie night or game night?"

both a common activity after holiday gatherings and while movie night was more or less reserved for christmas with the tiring but somehow addictive marathon of cheesy hallmark films, thanksgiving often rendered the party too tired to be engaged in any screaming matches or fists thrown at the characters on screen, or rather the tv. jieun's the one that answers you with a roll of her eyes and a chip half crunched in her mouth, "movie night, obviously, don't wanna scare the new kid away on the first night.”

jaehyun's confused even as the movie turns on, johnny's choice. unmistakably johnny's choice because it's twilight and the worst one of the saga too: new moon. turns out, there isn't much of a difference between game night and movie night because jieun is screaming, absolutely emptying her lungs out, at edward's stupidity, and though you're safely seated on the couch, position unchanged, the way you're seething at every scene he's in says enough. 

the movie's drawing to a close, there's perhaps half an hour left of it and even though the cullen never relents in his manipulative schemes, you and jieun are far too out of it to be riled up any further, evident in the way your best friend is now slumped on the floor, her head propped up by the foot of the couch, and how your position on top of the couch has now receded into itself, limbs drawn into your chest. your eyes flutter shut numerous times, but the next time edward appears on screen, they're shut for good. they're shut and you can feel your conscious thoughts slip from your grasp of understanding, the audio from the movie being drowned out and more in tune with your own breathing. you relinquish yourself for a nap.

you aren't disturbed, or even mildly startled, when a fabric is draped over your figure. it's the warm, fuzzy kind of fabric like the plush throws that sell at costco during the holiday season. you're only startled, internally at least, when you slit your eyes open in the slightest to catch a glimpse of who you suspect to be jieun, or even your brother, but turns out to be jaehyun. his hands are fussing with the far end of the blanket, tucking it under your feet to ensure all the warmth you crave. his eyes, trained on the blanket, flick up momentarily but you're quick to close your own in haste, hopeful that you avoided any ungainly eye contact.

his hands give a last pat to your blanketed shin, effectively sending bouts of shivers up to your spine and an eruptious feeling of effervescence in the pit of your stomach. and you're not sure if you love it or if you fucking hate it here, still under his gaze, while the bare lights from the tv can be perceived through your closed lids. you're not sure about much at all, especially during the times, the few albeit meaningful times, of the night when you were the object of this man's attention. there are things you aren't willing to confront within yourself but as always, those are the very things that jieun is more than eager to bring up later when in your bedroom, right before the two of you actually call it a night.

"ji, i wanna fucking duct tape your mouth shut."

her position on the mattress on the floor makes it easy for you to glare down at her from your spot on the bed. she doesn't take a word of what you say to heart, "you'll need more than duct tape to-"

the door from your bathroom cracks open and jaehyun's head pops in. "do i get a toothbrush?" you're a sliver of patience away from replying with a, 'use you fingers,' when you realize just who's at the door. giving jieun a final glare, you're up and crossing the room to where he is, pushing past him to get to the bottom drawer under the sink. from his room, johnny gives you a look that just screams he set you up to this, maybe even heard snippets of the conversation you were just having with your best friend.

as much as you loved it as a little girl, the 'jack and jill' configuration of your rooms was terribly inconvenient at times, considering you had a sibling of the opposite gender plus the fact that both of you were now full grown adults. you can count, on many more than the number of fingers you possessed, how many times you've wandered into the bathroom that connected your rooms in the middle of the night to relieve yourself only to find a drunk and naked johnny trying to grope at the shower dial and aimlessly missing each time. you hope a situation like that with jaehyun never arises.

standing up, you hand him a packaged toothbrush in a color that looked red under your shadow but now pink under the light. a silly grin lights your face despite not being one to confine colors to genders. jaehyun, who had come dressed in a black turtle neck, under a black hoodie, under a black coat, and was now donned in a black shirt with his hair pushed back with a black hairband, held the pink toothbrush with a fist and a small smile that pushed his dimples wide and into view. stifling a giggle, you pat his elbow, "you're welcome," before ducking out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind you without looking back to see the daziness in his eyes and his mouth that was only now forming a late, "thank you."

jieun dons a similar expression to johnny and right as the door is safely closed, she continues the conversation as if the interruption had never occurred in the first place, "you see what i mean?"

"no, i don't," you deadpan right back at her, fishing your phone from under the pillow and unlocking it to four messages, all from your brother. she rambles in the background of your processing thoughts, "he's so obviously into you, y/n." you wonder why, and not even in any comical sense, that the last of johnny's four texts reads almost the exact same thing: i think he has a thing for you negl. grumbling, you set aside the device and sprawl onto your back, kicking your legs out and heaving a sigh, "so what though? it's not like i'm going to do anything about it." jieun claps back not a second after with the same 'hot take' that you always shake your head at, "why not though? is this not like the perfect opportunity?"

you're not nearly annoyed but this topic is almost always brought up whenever a new guy 'seems into you,' so nothing that she says could really strike a chord within you, not yet. you run along with the conversation anyways, "why is this specific one the perfect opportunity? why not the guy from before, hm? that barista."

jieun is far too lazy but if she wasn't she'd be strangling you by now, "gosh, do i really have to spell it out for you-"

"-yes-"

"-he's literally the perfect man and i-"

"-then why don't you go after him-"

"-i was just about to say, can you shut the fuck up?" you let a giggle into the air, without even looking, the exasperation on her face is as clear as day. she waits for you to stop laughing, her lips pressed into a taut smile, either out of annoyance or out of the possibility that she would burst into giggles herself. the banter that bounces between the two of you is something so familiar, so playful and welcome. shaking her head, she continues as your laughter dies down and another round of speaking in half sentences ensues, "why would i go after him when he's literally thirsting after you? like that'd just be dumb of me-"

"okay, i think 'thirsting' is a little too far-"

"fine, let's just say that he's whipped-"

"the fuck? he just met me?"

"bitch, let me speak. and have you never heard of whipped at first sight?"

"yeah, but like that's unheard of for me." 

a silence follows, jieun knows you've never been put in a situation like this, or you have, you've just never felt the willingness to reciprocate. her tongue jutting into the left of her cheek and her voice has a tone of finality when she next speaks.

"okay who cares, it's happening."

as if on cue, you let the conversation play out, "what's happening?"

"i swear i'm not manifesting anything this time because i just know," jieun leaves a pause for a sign of objection, even she herself knows she says that same phrase too often, and in the context of you and your love life. reiterating, "like i know."

what she means is already within your knowledge, but you still ask, "know what?"

without a hitch, she replies, "that this is it, your first love. he literally showed up right at your doorstep, like a gift from christ."

"ji, it's thanksgiving."

"oh please, the clock says it's 3 in the morning the day after thanksgiving, it's practically christmas now."

you don't say anything in opposition because the both of you can already imagine your mom dragging your asses to the home decor store the next day to prepare for the upcoming holiday, the more important of the two, you think. unimportant as that is, you can't help but agree with her, though not aloud. there isn't one thing you find disagreeable about jaehyun and the little that you know of him. you also doubt that you'd be able to pinpoint what exactly was a feeling of attraction in your books since not much had ever been recorded under that title. there are things that you know and things that you don't, that you hope to uncover in the following week to see for yourself. so to cap it all off, you say the one thing you find most fitting for your situation.

"we'll see."

a deep gasp comes from just below, "holy shit, did i hear that right?" you can hear the sheets ruffle as she sits up straight and abruptly, "did you just say 'we'll see'? like no 'he's just not for me' and no 'i don't feel anything for him’?" the breath she sucks in, again, is gargantuan and by the sound of the sheets now rubbing together like she's trying to start a fire, you can tell that your best friend is losing her shit. her hands press into the side of the bed and her head peeps up just enough for you to see. 

"y/n, you're done for."

with two fingers, you push her off by the forehead but a little smile plays at your lips because a part of you, this little unimaginably tiny part, is telling you that she's correct. and if there's one thing that rightfully solidifies that little feeling, that urges it to grow in size, to consume your whole being until the only thing you're aware of is that one little feeling, it's the text that lights your phone first thing in the morning, right when you awake. it’s another text from your brother, right under the four that you hadn't bothered to reply to the night before. your heart speeds in ways it's never dared to until recently and your mind is reeling because that one text, that one damned text spells out: so, first love huh?

they had heard it all.

your one-track mind, eyes on the wreath about twenty feet down and hands firm on pushing the cart, is disrupted when jaehyun nears your side. you step to the right to allow him space as he takes the other half of the cart handle in both hands. now, your one-track mind is split into two, wreath tossed aside, on if you should step away from the cart entirely or just keeping on pushing side by side with him. more tracks are added as your mind wanders off to think, what if he wants to turn right and i want to turn left? then what? what if he suddenly stops and i keep pushing? awkward much? but if i just abandon him wouldn't that be even more awkward? should-

"y/n," your eyes snap to his, wide. he chuckles and you realize that you've stopped, the two of you have stopped. the cart is now aligned with the side of the soap aisle, hand soap in particular. jaehyun gives a little shake to his hand, the one with his phone in it, in conjunction with his continuation, "the list your mom sent me says scented hand soap. is there like, a specific scent that she usually gets? do you know?"

you stutter out an, "uhh," before getting a hold of your bearings and placing your hands on your hips, surveying the wall before you. "well, there's this brand, which if i remember," you take one from the shelf and give the aisle a once-over for any employees before screwing the pump off and bringing the bottle to your nose for a quick whiff, "smells nice." you then raise your hands to his nose and he repeats your actions, a sniff that scrunches his nose, a sight you wish to never forget, before he draws back with an agreeable nod. you shake your mind from the thought and finish your thought, "but mom hates this brand because there's always a ton of glitter in theirs. we can get it if you like-" you check the label, "stuffing and cranberry sauce? what the fuck kinda scent is that?"

"they really be wildin with these," he replies, holding out another bottle for you to see. it reads stockings, you burst into laughter and the awkwardness that you and him started the day off with dissipates in seconds at the hands of...well, hand soap. the two of you take turns tossing the oddest of scented soap and holding up bottles for each other to smell until the happenings of last night are a mere passing dream to you. it becomes a mess, so much so that you end up laughing solely in reaction to jaehyun's own laugh and he does the same, a seemingly never-ending cycle that repeats itself until the two of you are panting hard with your hands on yours knees and his whole body weight on the cart. you look over at him for the smallest fraction of a second and he's on the verge of bursting at the sight of your smiling face. you beam up at him, in your own state of suppressed laughter. there's no way to tell, but it takes quite a period of time for either of you to break the stare. maybe it's time to stomach that whatever you are feeling for jaehyun is certainly, in some way, shape, or form, attraction.

what you do see is the way the corners of his eyes crinkle when he laughs, the occasional scrunches of his nose, the pink tint at the tip of his ears, the dimples that squeeze on the sides of his face, how a hand sometimes comes to cover his laughs when they get a little too loud. you think you see a lot but what you, and him, don't see, is jieun's head poking out at the far end of the aisle, observing with the fondest of smiles on her face. you don't see the way johnny's head appears as well, above your best friend's. you don't see, much less hear her say, "i called it." and you don't hear your brother's response that comes in a, "surprisingly, i'm not mad."

"why would you be? your little sister just found the love of her life. god, i wish someone would look at me that way."

johnny looks down at the crown of jieun's head, not the most flattering angle but still, he swears he's looking at her in that way. he looks back up at the two of them and it's like he can read your best friend's thoughts, "married before 25, i call it."

and with the way his little sister is giggling as his best friend's pulls the silliest faces, and the way his best friend's face lights up with his own special kind of joy every time you reciprocate the same silly face, it's safe to say that johnny's right.

candles are lit in your room, the ones that smell like balsam firs as a substitute to the actual tree that johnny and jieun are road tripping to retrieve right now. it's been three days since the thanksgiving dinner and well, nothing much has happened except the added tension between you and jaehyun, the weird looks that jieun sends johnny and vice versa, and of course, the fifty or so santa plushies that sit at the foot of the fireplace in the living room. you hadn't offered to go with the two on their one hour drive to the early bird christmas tree business that your family frequented exactly once a year, thinking to stay under the safe space of your heated room and out of the blistering cold of late november.

your mom had other plans for you, however, calling you from your room not an hour into the period you'd designated as 'alone time.' she'd asked if you could make a quick trip to the local grocery store to buy some eggs, yogurt, and possibly some milk if the organic gallon was in stock. good-naturedly, you'd agreed, until she brought up that you should probably ask jaehyun to go with you. the man himself had stayed behind with, not to spend time with you but to spend time with his studies. it seems that med students weren't ever really on a break, even if that's what was advised. you agree to that as well, thinking that he most likely would appreciate a short break from the books as well. 

which leaves you to your current predicament, situated just outside the open door to your bathroom, of which the door on the other side was split open as well. you know that if you so much as take a quick peek, jaehyun would be there, hunched over the desk and facing that very doorway. you gamble the chances, figuring that a fleeting half second peek couldn't do any harm, after all, the probability that he'd look up at the exact same fleeting half second seemed pretty slim. that's what sophomore year high school you said, as she flunked ap statistics. 

you pop your head in for not even half of the fleeting half second. you swear that you'd been discreet but lo and behold, his eyes catch yours as if he was expecting them to, as if he knew that your head would appear right then and there. you draw back instantaneously fast, shivers bouncing up and down your spine as you press it hard into the wall. somewhere along the way you had started panting. for what reason, you have no idea.

there's sounds of shuffling from the room behind you, a book clapping shut perhaps, papers being moved around, the click of a pen, the pen being set down upon the table. you don't register much in terms of sound but your ears pick up, they perk up, at the sound of jaehyun's voice, low with an added lilt, "y/n?" you don't dare answer, sure that whatever would fall from your mouth once unhinged would horrify yourself. the silence deafens the two of you as he moves across the room and another utterance graces your ears, "y/n, are you there?"

you don't trust your voice, especially in moments like these however rare they occur. you don't trust the shakiness, the unsure tone, the words itself that could give it all away. and especially in this specific moment, you're unsure of what 'it' is. but if there's one thing of yours that you trust, it's your body. and the tug that jaehyun has on you is unreal, it's something akin to gravity, or maybe a little more than that. so you trust in your steps when you move to round the corner into the bathroom, the space that divides the two of you. except, it's doesn't anymore.

there is nothing that divides the two of you as your steps collide with jaehyun's in the doorway of the bathroom that serves as a hallway at this point. you would've lost your balance completely, had he not set a hand on your waist. and you wouldn't kept your train of thought going, had he not set another hand on your neck. his eyes bore into yours, down into the depth of your irises, and you wish that he could understand the sheer magnitude even that has on your alerted state. 

jaehyun raises his eyebrows in the slightest fashion and in question. you don't need him to say anything for you to understand. and you don't need to be asked twice for you to nod in confirmation. 

his lips are hot on yours, his breath tingles, his chapstick smears, and his fingers do their part in curling into your locks, the sensations on your scalp almost coaxing a moan from you. you steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder and another on his neck, dragging your thumb along the ridge of his jawline. he hums in response to that and lifts your head with a light thumb of his own, deepening the kiss and reemerging with the appearance of his tongue, playful and sweet. you can't help the smile that spreads across your lips as he shifts both hands to your waist and swivels you back to the wall, caging you in effectively and also effectively making it so the only thing you can feel is his lips on your skin, the only thing you can hear is his ragged breaths, the only thing you can smell is the scent of his aftershave, and the only thing you can taste is his tongue entwining and untwining with your own.

you pull away after what seems to be a lifetime and the look in his eyes, clouded over in sheer adoration, is enough to tell you all you need to know. you've never met a man as fucking gorgeous as jung jaehyun. you've never known of a man as kind, attentive, doting. you've never held a man with such high esteem. you've never wanted to badly to be a special someone to anyone in particular. you certainly have never dared to crave a love for someone like him.

and now you have.

"it's been five years since i last rode a bike, would you shush it?"

"oh, i don't think i'd be able to shush it with all two dozen eggs cracked and on the pavement." you don't have enough hand-eye coordination to be able to look aside and give him a glare, "why didn't you take the eggs then?"

the laugh that bellows from him beside you subsides, "nothing like a good laugh." jaehyun watches as your eyes never leave the path ahead, eyebrows drawn in to a point as you muster up enough of your brainpower to quip back, "at the cost of my struggles? really?"

"hey, don't blame me. you're the one that looks cute when you're concentrated."

the only response he gets is a click of your tongue but he doesn't think too much of it because your side profile, namely your cheeks, are positively boasting a fervid blush. he's upset at the chill bite of winter wind for washing it out all too quickly, the few seconds it bloomed insufficient for his satisfaction. the short trip to the grocery store also proves insufficient as the two of you pull up to your driveway in the span of five or so minutes. 

jaehyun is off his bike before you are, the kickstand propping it up as he crosses over into your space. he waits until you're off and you're attention is on him to press his lips to the bridge of your nose, hands on the seat of your bike that's separating you two. he waits until the surefire blush spreads across your cheeks and he waits until it subsides to give yet another kiss, this time to your left cheek. the process repeats itself and jaehyun's amazed to see that it works each time. the same kiss and blush, subside and repeat. it's the sixth time when you catch on to his antics, given away by the pleased little smirk that rests on his face after each peck. shaking your head, lightly with merriment, you take the intact eggs from your basket and begin to make your way inside.

you're four steps closer to the front door when a hand pulls at your left wrist, the one without the eggs, and you're spun around until the eggs are on the verge of slipping from the hold your right hand has on it against your chest. jaehyun, the culprit of the eggs' near demise and also of your mindless daydreams, takes a final step to close the distance. it's brief but you hear it anyways, his, "one more," that's susurrated in the quickly diminishing distance between your lips.

this time, it's him who blushes hard when you kiss back with a sudden and unforeseen fervor. and it's you who pulls away when the egg cartons start to make the situation unpleasant by making their presence known, jammed between both your chests. still, it stays that way, even when his hands come to clasp around the small of your back and even when he lets his voice dip to a bare minimum when he asks, "will you go out with me?"

that has you mumbling against his lips, "i will."

apparently 'out' meant the grocery store, again, since you forgot about the yogurt.

"oh my god, please shove your head back up your ass!"

"jieun-" you try, but she's already past her limit, ten minutes after settling down for a nice night of bonding by means of gaming. "who even uses sonic anymore? no scratch that, who, in the history of smash has ever used sonic?"

your older brother tries as well, "jieun, it's just a cpu-" but to no avail.

"fuck, holy jesuscakes, the audacity," she yells into her controller, "i fucking pressed the down button! i did! ask god, i really did!" the stricken beam obliterates her character for the third time in the round and she's forced to wait until she can rejoin.

jieun's quick to point a finger at any and everything, "y/n, you! how are you even still alive? you suck at this more than i do!" if she could ever piece one and one together to make two, she'd see your character in the corner of the screen, blocked off and essentially guarded by jaehyun's. luckily for her, and unluckily for you, johnny notices.

"by the looks of it, jaehyun's hard carrying her ass through this round." the corner of jaehyun's lips quirk up at that, proud that his efforts have been realized and voiced aloud. johnny goes on, musing while focusing mostly on the game itself, "while i'm here hard carrying all your asses put together." that holds true, seen in how your team does in fact win and how he snatches the spot for the most KO's.

still, it holds true in the next round and the many ones after that. and as jieun's emotions trail from anger to angrier to slightly less angry to bummed out to tired and exhausted. johnny still clutches the win each time and jaehyun still stands guard by your side each time. in any given round, you haven't died more than two times, a feat for your track record. and each time that you do die, jaehyun lets a slew of swears escape his pretty lips.

with jieun almost knocked out at this point (though her character is still in the game being mauled to death after she spawns back in, consecutively), your older brother has enough headspace to draw conclusions from tonight's mini events he'd picked up from his peripheral vision. one, jaehyun's hand on your thigh in between rounds, subtle but not completely covert either. two, how you'd hand fed him his favorite chips, from the plethora on the table, as you waited for your character to rejoin, definitely on the overt side. and lastly, three, jaehyun wiping your cheek with his sweater paws after he accidentally spit on you, so fucking obvious.

all that paired with his best friend's unexplainable, and frankly protective, aid in your gameplay tonight, and johnny was convinced he was equipped with all the information he needed to question, one break between rounds, "so, you two...mind telling me what's going on?"

jaehyun's hand retracts from your thigh, slowly in contrast to how quickly his eyes widen at the words. you're not nearly as surprised, neither of you had really bothered to keep it on the low, just low enough so that jieun wouldn't notice off the bat and torture you with her onslaught of 'i told you so's' for the remaining days you were here. his hand returns to your thigh to give you a nudge, a cue for you to speak.

"i- we, it's just that we- you know, things have been happening and we kinda just- well, i feel like it's not something that- yeah, fuck." jaehyun, sensing that urging you to reply might not have worked out in either of your best interests, supplies with a surprising confident tone, "we're dating, that's what she's trying to say."

johnny creates suspense, for his own entertainment, really, by adding, "you? and her? like my best friend and my little sister?" jaehyun's hand starts to knead up and down your thigh and you're not sure if you're just imagining things at this point but you swear that his hands are getting clammy through the thin sweats you’re wearing. his shaky voice only adds to your conviction, "y-yeah, i mean, if you have a problem with it then maybe we could talk things out, i don't know, i never really thought that you'd mind though."

the two of you watch with bated breath as the fate of your relationship lies in the hands of your brother. his eyes rove about the room, in reality it's because he'd start his own gigglefest if he were to even glance at the looks on your faces. they land on jieun, the girl who's only now just coming to her senses, complexion glazed in mild interest and mild confusion. johnny decides to revel in the stance of power for a few more seconds, finally willing his eyes onto the pair. he's at the precipice of laughing out loud at what he sees.

your eyes are blown wide and planted into the ground while jaehyun's are planted on him, both of you are unblinking. the hand that's on your thigh is rubbing harshly now, so harsh that in the silence, it's the only thing that resounds. johnny scrunches his nose, as his friend so often does, and bites his down on his lip, but there's only so much he can do to suppress the smile that comes first and then the peals of laughter that follow. 

even then, you're not sure whether you should be feeling worried or relieved. your brother is absolutely wheezing and you have no idea at what. glancing at jaehyun, he seems to have loosened up enough to give you a shrug before you both draw your sights back to your brother. and he only speaks when he's fully calmed down, "i don't mind."

you guess that jieun's habitual mood swings have rubbed off on you over the years because you're more than ready to throw hands, "what?! so you fucking sat there for like five minutes just to get us all antsy? and then you pull this face," enter inscrutability, "and let us suffer here thinking that you were gonna say no and ew, my best friend and my sister, or some kinda shit." all eyes are on you know, although in amusement and good-nature, as you stand abruptly from the couch, eyebrows cocked. you know exactly what you're getting yourself into when you taunt, "and you think you're gonna get away with it?"

okay, maybe launching yourself at a six foot man wasn't the best idea you've had all night but jieun gets her quality entertainment, jaehyun is forced to forcefully yank you back by the hips, and your brother is, well, he's been laughing the entire time. and you're convinced that he'll still be laughing, a day, a month, a year down the line. johnny's convinced he'll still be laughing two years later, at your wedding.

jaehyun gives you a pointed look. 

"fine."

he holds out a pinky, "promise?"

you link your finger with his, an exasperated sigh toppling past your lips, "i promise i won't sleep and drive," he joins your thumbs together as you mumble your protests at his very safe proposition, "it's not like i did that on purpose, i was just tired and there was like no cars around." he pretends not to hear you and props open your bedroom door with a foot as you shove your suitcase out into the hall.

"wish i could drive you back."

you stand straight, speaking over your shoulder, "it's fine, it's not like it's dark outside or anything. and plus, i've done this a hundred times." jaehyun clicks the door shut behind the two of you, his head making out a small shake, "a hundred more reasons to worry."

jieun joins you at the top of the steps as your boyfriend takes the suitcase from you and tucks it under an arm as if it weighed next to nothing. he saunters down with ease.

"look at him go, he's really taking you seriously, huh," she nudges your sides with an elbow, twice for double the effect. one hand on the rail and another smacking back at her, you retort with no need for sarcasm, "ji, he's literally just carrying something down the stairs."

she's a car without breaks, a megaphone taped to her mouth, and a vending machine that never fails to regurgitate every cent you put into it. "yeah, and? doesn't change the fact that he's carrying something of yours."

"that doesn't even make a diff-"

"it makes all the difference in the world, y/n. look, it's been one fucking week and wouldja look at that? you have a love life. a more eventful one than me even." she catches the front door that's almost shut in the wake of your said 'love life.' your sandals are at the front door, the lazy ones you always wear for long drives just so you can take them off midway. you slip them on while jieun exits your house barefoot in the freezing cold. she's waiting until later in the day to leave because, unlike you, she doesn't exhibit a fear for driving in the dark.

"that's him," you bring your attention back to her as she gestures meekly in the direction of jaehyun, who was just now loading your suitcase into your trunk. you remove your gaze from him and train it on her instead, "that's who?"

a smile plays on her lips, as if she's glad you asked. she's also glad in reiterating and elaborating, "that's him, your someone."

and it dawns on you just then, exactly what she means. fate must have had it so you were only given a short period of time to get to know him. but it seems like that was all you needed to understand that he might be the real you've been waiting for, your one call away, the something you've been aching to feel. it dawns on you, and it dawns on you then, that jung jaehyun is simply your someone to bring home.

extra follow up scene: especially yours 

copyright © 2020 rouiyan all rights reserved.

✧ end note — truly a romcom, may i add, there's the main plot that moves way too fast, the unrealistically hot love interest, the comedic relief best friend (that ends up with the second male lead), and the trademark american thanksgiving. i'm aware that not all of you celebrate thanksgiving but i think that on any given day, we all have things to be thankful for. i, for one, am thankful for you. <333, rouiyan.

[obeymeluv]

You Steal the Boys’ Clothes

Something I’ve been thinking of for a while.

Lucifer

It was rare the eldest was without his cape, as everything seemed to be a formal event and he must be dressed to impress. Being dressed to impress, however, means being clean so he gets it cleaned from time to time

Lucifer is a very organized, practical man. Constantly towing the line of obsessive for the sake of orderliness.

He knows where his cape should be, and that it’s not there

With a demon’s-only screech that warns Mammon to stretch his calves and run, Lucifer hunts down the three most likely suspects to interrogate them (Mammon, Satan, and Belphegor).

He tries to get a two-for-one by dragging Mammon into the study where Satan sits smugly with a book (because he knows he didn’t do it but MAN is he enjoying this!)

Imagine surprising not one, but THREE demons when you come shuffling down the hall with a Lucifer’s cape wrapped around you like a blanket.

It whispers and it drags and it absolutely DROWNS you.

Very charming. Ethereal, almost like some sort of wedding wear

Lucifer would’ve never imagined you’d be the culprit, and now his poor brain is trying to save and process the idea of you looking so sleepy-happy in his clothes

And the ex-angel falls all over again.

He catches the little cheek nuzzle and way you bunch it around your body, a foot poking out not to get tangled

Satan and Mammon will probably die laughing instead of at his hands, but Lucifer could really care less

Lucifer idly wonders where you’d curled up that he totally missed you, and escorts you gently but red-faced to your room

Satan and Mammon tag along, and when they see Lucifer come out with his cape they can only deduce he put you to bed.

Mammon

With no homework to do and some money in the bank, Mammon was ready to spend the weekend tearing up the town with you!

He was fresh out of the shower and mostly dressed, searching feverishly for his beloved white and brown jacket

Mammon wasn’t the cleanest person by nature (hello, money hoarder and collector of interesting/valuable things) so he tidied up as he went

As he started to suspect one of his little brothers was holding the jacket for ransom, he sent out a group text asking about it

There were several typical smart-ass responses (Lucifer, Asmo, and Satan) and he was in the middle of a snark fight when you showed up at his door somewhere between bashful and chill

In HIS jacket

Mammon’s brain shuts down.

HIS baby in HIS jacket? HELL YEAH! OH GOD, IT’S TOO PERFECT!

FIEND, TAKING HIS HEART!

“It’s kind of a human thing,” you explain. “There is a one-jacket fee among couples. Usually it’s a hoodie.” you tease, reluctant to shrug it off, “But this seems to be your only jacket so I guess I could give it back.”

It’s very subtle, but he’s worn that jacket for centuries and no amount of detergent can disguise the scent that makes his heart skip a beat

Something about the smell of your skin and a hint of his has him purring

You hold the jacket out to him. Mammon wraps his fingers around it and swings it around until he’s holding it over one shoulder

The yellow takes over in his eyes a little more. Gets a little brighter and intense.

“You want to take anything else off?” he husks playfully

Your day out turns into staying in and Mammon is happy to trade his jacket for a shirt you can sleep in (like, forever. It’s fine. Whatever, dummy.)

Leviathan

It was actually really hard to steal Levi’s clothes because he lived in his hoodie and turtleneck. His RAD uniform was really just for show and that wasn’t what you were looking for, anyways. You didn’t want to chill in uniform.

He was very particular about his merch because certain shirts were collector’s items and he didn’t like people messing with his folding patterns

You went to Asmo with your dilemma and he found it absolutely ADORABLE. It was almost enough to make him jealous, really

Somehow (Asmo being Asmo?), the fifth- born was able to swipe one of the green button-ups Levi wore under his RAD uniform

His first thought was to alter the garment to make it fit you (matching outfits? YES!) but Levi would probably kill him. His big bro hated shopping for clothes unless he HAD to have them.

Asmo gets the bright idea to magically/temporarily alter the fabric to fit you. Maybe Levi will like it so much he’ll just give you a shirt! 💖 (Or get some fucking outside time and go buy more shirts!)

Levi catches his own scent somewhere outside of the door and his brain goes off. He hits the pause button at lightning speed.

No one else smells like him! They haven’t shared bath products in centuries! He already finished his laundry so what’s happening?!

His first thought is: Mammon broke into my room while I was in the bathroom and stole something to pawn!

Levi doesn’t even think to take inventory of his stuff, barging out of his room to hunt down his big brother

He’s yelling and whining before he even sees him. Then he sees you. In his shirt.

All the angry words die in his throat as the absolute mortification and adoration sets his face on fire

SO KAWAII! It basically makes up for your normie-ness.

Levi’s stuck standing there, blushing his head off and unable to say anything as his fists shake with joy and nervousness

He gets a nosebleed. One of his brothers are laughing at him.

You guide him back to his room to take care of him, Levi lets you and becomes very fascinated with the idea of you in his clothes .Lots of petting and figuring out you look DOUBLY MEGA CUTE when the magic wears off and you’re just in a pool of fabric.

He’s totally down for matching clothes and definitely lets you keep the one you’re wearing.

Satan

His wardrobe is very...interesting...to say the least

Colors and personal combinations aside, Satan actually has a very smart wardrobe. Lots of basics and easy layers.

You can’t steal his signature green sweater or the blazer he seems to live in, so you settle for an emerald knit sweater that has a bit of a v-neck/university feel to it

It takes Satan a while to notice, as he’s buried in a book. You two tend to gravitate towards each other and just enjoy a cozy, companionable silence

He’s just finished a book and is debating cracking open one from the stack to his left when the color catches his eye

The smooth, sly comment dies on his lips when he realizes he likes the damn thing because IT’S HIS

You look very cozy and warm. It’s a very ‘cuddle me’ kind of look.

Perhaps you could warm his lap? Or give his poor hands a rest under the hem?

Very cheeky and clever. Grabs you by the sleeve of it just to ‘answer his curiosity about whether it matched his nails’.

Does he have a cute university student kink? If he didn’t, he does now?

There’s a 50-50 chance of you guys having sex.

Will definitely want to hold you and cuddle you close, petting the fabric and whispering compliments into it.

If you don’t already have a business/academic attire, Satan will definitely suggest a few pieces because YES. This is a thing he loves and it DOES things to him.

Asmodeus

He’s the type to let you think you stole something

Probably stages what he wants you to steal just so you take it

Honestly, I could just see him dumping some of his clothes on you because you’re dating now and this is a cute thing he read about!

It’s super likely he’s into couple outfits or coordinating outfits, so he’s either spent time in his closet pre-planning or asked you to try on a million things just because

This cutie pie purposely orders THE BIGGEST thing he can find so you can both fit in it at the same time

Asmo loves you to pieces no matter what, but seeing you in his clothes makes him squeal and hit a note Mammon has threatened to murder him over

Ever dramatic, this is like, THE BEST THING EVER

A MILLION Devilgram posts about it (safe ones, of course)

Do you guys spark a couple’s trend and spade of lover’s stealing each other’s clothes to snap a victory pic? Maybe

Probably fake faints at the sheer glory of you in HIS bomb ass clothes. Definitely fans himself

Spoils you rotten with compliments

This man is weak. “Gorgeous! Smother me.” as he falls back on the bed and gestures to his face

He won’t turn down the idea of sexy times (depends on your libido, comfort, etc.) but sometimes he makes raunchy jokes just to be funny. Smothering could also mean using him like a body pillow (which he’s totally okay with).

You get max cuddles and WILL be the envy of Devilgram

Beelzebub

Beel felt a little guilty for leaving you at the House of Lamentation with his brothers

You guys were supposed to hang out after school but there was an emergency practice. The coach always got pre-game jitters and demanded a few last runs. He showered and ran back to the House, hoping you still had time for him.

He tiptoed quietly into his shared room, unsurprised to find you waiting there for him. You’d been caught in Belphie’s sleepy little aura by the looks of it,

Beelzebub couldn’t help the grin or little hum that made it past his lips. Your eyes were open but he didn’t know if you actually saw him. You looked super cute in his humongous bed though

You were getting sleepier and sleepier, your eyelids getting heavier and heavier. Beel pulled the sheets over you and gentle untangled the arm you managed to latch on to

Maybe waking up to a bit of food would make up for everything! Beel toiled away in the kitchen, making a cute little snack tray for the two of you.

In reality, it could probably feed at least twenty, and he ate at least half of what he prepped.

Beel returned to the room with what he considered a decent amount (scraps, kind of, but enough variety! He tried! It’s the thought that counts!) and was surprised to see his sheets all tangled and half-kicked from the bed

You were wearing his jacket now, passed out and turned into the furry lining that usually went across his shoulders and neck

DId you sleep walk? He was trying to understand how you’d gotten into his jacket

Beel realized it was the first time you’d been in his clothes and it was enough to make his heart melt

Super huge on you, obviously (extra fabric everywhere), but so cute! He could basically swaddle you in his jacket

“They’re a restless sleeper,” Belphie yawned. “I thought it would help them calm down.”

It used to work on Belphie, so Beel could see why he resorted to it

Beel offered his twin some food, sitting carefully on your other side.

He shifted some of the parka fur away from your face, trying to fix your hair and nudge your chin up so your nose wasn’t buried in anything. He stroked your cheek a little, mesmerized by the sight of you and how you felt.

Belphie declined, muttering something about, ‘Stop looking like that and eat your food! Gross!’ before Beel settled for patting your head one last time and eating quietly

Belphegor

He’s another one that’s hard to steal from

You’d think it’d be easy since he sleeps all the time, but Belphie really only wears 10% of the clothes he buys

Yes, he’s a pajama snob and has all things comfy and cozy, but hardly any of them smell like him because he falls asleep anywhere with little issue (no special clothes required!)

You thought about stealing his blue cardigan with the pocket, but he’s always sleeping in it!

Belphie picks up on your train of thought, and the frustration, because you fall asleep thinking about it. Dreaming about coyly stealing his cardigan and being all cute and snuggly in bed

It’s enough to wake him up, shuffle to you, and break your sleep. He flops down on your bed with his cardigan unbuttoned and says ‘climb on’ while patting his chest

You’re obviously sleepy and confused and he loves it. Belphie slides you onto his chest and wraps his arms around you, resting bits of the fabric on your back as you settle into him

It’s not the same but it’s close enough

Would you be offended if he got you cow pajamas so he could snuggle you like his favorite pillow? He falls asleep wondering about the answer

He wakes up to see that Beel has covered the two of you with his favorite blanket.

You in his blanket? Against him? Slowly smelling of him and his clothes? It’s the best thing to fall asleep to.

Makes a joke out of your clothes-stealing quest by stripping one of his pillowcases off and putting you in it like a little sack. You have to stay on his bed now because you’re his pillow and all pillows stay on the bed.

“What? You wanted to smell like me! It’s something I use!“ Belphie defends as you wonder whether or not you like this human pillow thing while he snuggles you.