#but it's flexible enough that he can take on other roles as he wishes
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I'm fairly certain that Loki's story in the MCU is done in terms of character evolution, but I do think he was situated in a way that means he can pop up effectively anytime as a plot device whenever writers need one (and I'm fairly certain Tom will always be down for a cameo). Which is interesting with Young Avengers obviously being lined up.
Like imagine Loki being somehow instrumental to forming a second team of Avengers, but this time the intent and context is completely different. Not a villain to rally against, but a god guide though time and space? The irony of it, the circularity.
#loki#loki series#marvel#young avengers#loki spoilers#loki season 2#Tom has been positioned for ultimate pop-in cameo opportunities and i love that for him#those Marvel cheques will put his and Zawe's adorable kiddo through Cambridge or whatever#but it's flexible enough that he can take on other roles as he wishes#he gets to eat cake occasionally and doesn't have to keep up a terrifying regiment if he doesn't want to#do long theatre stints as King Lear or something if he wants to#put the horns back on for a quick cameo to hug Chris Hemsworth in Thor 5 or something#it's all good.
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hi. im here to kamukoma ramble. ok so i reeaaly hate how all kamumeshi Fan Content (which is basically all kamukoma content) waters down izuru to being the dominant one and servant to being his cute little dog like i feel like its so much more complex then that.
izuru was created to be subservient, to be smart enough to see through manipulation tactics and yet not care enough about himself to do anything to stop them, always doing something to serve someone else’s interests - and even when he does do one thing in his own interest (the killing game), it was largely because of his obsession with junko, so we see her still pulling the strings on him from beyond the grave (emphasized by his convo with her in his udg cameo). he doesn’t have power and he’s been designed not to want it. he’s been robbed of his humanity over and over again and been taught to accept it. he even explicitly states all of this in talent dev plan with taka
komaeda, on the other hand, is always framed with such heavy control over the narrative - he heavily influences dr2’s ending and takes that same puppeteering role in udg too. although he has that inferiority complex, he still holds so much power over everyone else, manipulating them like chess pieces. he is just as dangerous as izuru is, considering he has not only the intelligence but the motivation to act out like this, something izuru lacks.
and so this creates a really cool complexity where servant believes he’s meant to be subservient to izuru but this may not be wholly reflected in the way he acts, and izuru most definitely does not care for/about controlling servant. and, if izuru does take a domineering role, it’s because that’s what servant wants (especially after junko’s death, when he has no one left to place himself beneath), and so izuru’s still letting himself go with whoever the people surrounding him want him to be. he’s not with servant for the power trip, that goes completely against everything he’s ever been - because, in reality, IZURU is the one who exists to serve. to serve his creators, and then junko afterwards, even after her death. his purpose has always been assigned to him, not created by him.
both characters are fucked up and morally grey. both characters are the man, both characters are the god.
this is what i wish people would focus more on when writing their general character development and the development of their relationship. because they barely get any screen time you get lots of creative freedom and you can take this concept in either a “they are going to heal and get better together” route or a “they are doomed to always hurt each other in their codependency” route or some weird thing in between; again, personal preference, and if you want to keep izuru and hajime separate postgame this opens a whole new plethora of dynamics and development to write about after komaeda becomes himself again. the flexibility of their dynamic is whats so intriguing to me - kamukoma is a very complex and fluid idea that i wish more people would mess around with like this join me and we can play with them like putty
#servant was willing to rig that entire death trap in udg. do u really think he is truly subservient in nature. do u really think hes not#possessive and weird about izuru. keep in mind he was despaired#also if u want me to add a read more somewhere let me know . she got beefy#anyways PLEASE feel free to add your thoughts i need to talk about them be4 i explode badly#ko’s danganronpa ramblings#long post#kamukoma#nagito komaeda#izuru kamukura#servant nagito#servant komaeda#kamumeshi#danganronpa spoilers
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I was hoping to get your opinion on this entire holivia situation. You seem very open and patient to anons and I enjoy reading your responses. Why do you think it is that Harry and his team seem to have less of a say or control when it comes to this particular stunt? I understand there is a hollywood movie involved but it still seems oddly excessive to me. In the past Harry has been able to put his foot down and even cut beards off when they've behaved a little OTT but not with this one. tbc.
Hi there!
Sorry this took a while, you guys always hit me with the interesting stuff when I have other things I really ought to be doing. Oops. 😅
So, I know that I maybe sound like a broken record with my disclaimers, but when we talk about topics like this, I think it’s really important to remind ourselves that all we’re capable of doing is inferring. We don’t actually have any concrete knowledge about what Harry and Olivia’s stunt contract stipulates, what the overarching goals of the stunt are, what their red lines are, how they negotiated things, how things have evolved and whether the contract is flexible, etc. and we’re not ever going to have access to that info. I say this because I think we as a fandom sometimes have the habit of talking about situations like we know things for certain, because we’re often looking to each other for guidance and to make sense of very complex professional and personal situations that, unfortunately, tend to weigh very heavily on us emotionally, and part of fandom “health” (at least for me) is getting comfortable with not knowing and never getting a definitive answer.
Another really important thing to note (that someone very smart pointed out in a tag on one of my posts, I wish I could tag you) is that personal and professional goals are very different. What someone wants to achieve professionally can be (and very often is) contradictory to what they may want for their personal life. Part of living in the real world is understanding that that tension and complexity is always going to exist, and it’s actually extremely rare for those two things to align, especially in a career where success is almost entirely dependent on public love and support. I don’t think that’s said often enough when we discuss closeting and Harry and Louis’ situations.
All that said, let’s get into your question. (This is going to get long, so I apologize.)
Firstly, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a situation where Harry/his team have ever “put their foot down” when it comes to a stunt, but more importantly, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen a stunt be “over the top” like this. So, when you say Olivia’s team says “jump” and Harry’s team says “how high?” I think that’s a bit of a misreading of the situation.
My guess is what you’re actually seeing is Olivia using the loopholes in their contract to her utmost advantage, which no other stunt has either thought to do, or had enough leverage to do in the past. We have to remember that these negotiations likely happened at the beginning of DWD, and at that time, Olivia was in a different professional situation than she is in now. She was his director, she was casting him, she was his professional superior, and negotiating something like a PR stunt with your professional superior is a delicate thing because, no matter how popular or accomplished Harry is or how much Olivia may have wanted his fan base for the movie, the power dynamics are still very much present. Compounded with the fact that Olivia herself was who they were pitching as his stunt partner, it would have been very easy to write something in the contract that she could take as a personal insult and that could’ve very easily jeopardized his role in the movie, their working relationship, his reputation as an up and coming actor… the list goes on.
That particular complexity has never existed with any of Harry’s other stunts (even the more high profile ones like Taylor and Kendall) because he’s never been directly beholden to them in a professional capacity. The worst thing that could’ve happened to him if he’d insulted those stunt partners somehow is calling the deal off and a few scathing rumors and songs here or there. With Taylor and Kendall, Harry was always an equal, not a subordinate. With the others, they had a vested interest in staying in Harry’s good graces by not pushing the boundaries, because he was a lot more famous than most of them. Olivia, however, seems not to care about pushing that boundary, mostly, I think, due to her personality, her “alpha-female” approach to her career goals, and the fact that Harry is likely to continue to conduct himself as professionally as he can even in a trying situation, so the backlash she gets from him, personally, is probably not enough to dissuade her.
Secondly, an important part of workplace politics is maintaining amicable business relationships. That means knowing how to choose your battles and always having professional reasoning (as opposed to personal) behind the battles you do choose to fight. So, I don’t actually think Harry’s more “on board than ever” but rather that he’s choosing his battles. And, if we’re honest, there’s no professional reasoning behind Olivia not being at multiple shows, or being papped in his merch, or them being papped together. “You’re annoying,” and “you annoy me,” and “my die hard fans can’t stand the sight of you” (and, also apparently for Olivia, “you’re having family issues that you need to deal with”) can’t really compete with consistent engagement with tabloids, Twitter trends, conversion rates (of GP to casual listeners to stans), Harry being placed on Hollywood’s radar, etc. However, it seems like when there is solid professional reasoning behind shutting down a decision, Harry and his team do take it. We’ve seen that in the social media and print media gag order (Olivia wasn’t allowed to mention him in her Vogue interview though she tried very hard to insinuate a confirmation) and the pivot in terms of the Harry’s House narrative (that I suspect largely had to do with how they plan to navigate My Policeman promo). I think our frustration as a fandom lies in that it’s not easy for us not to equate things that are annoying with things that are damaging to our relationship with Harry because when you’re as emotionally involved as we are, it all feels the same.
Lastly, I think we have to remember that the music industry and Hollywood are entirely different beasts, and I bring that up for two reasons:
1) Stunts serve different purposes, depending on the situation. For Harry Styles, singer-songwriter, it was meant to closet him, give an intriguing background to his love songs, make people interested in him, maybe even be used as a cover for why sex-symbol-rockstar-modern-day-Rolling Stone doesn’t ever take anyone back to his hotel room.
For Harry Styles, up and coming actor, it’s both to closet him and to keep people interested in him and his projects when he technically still has nothing to show for it. You can’t be interested in an actor from that one ensemble cast three years ago, even if it was a Nolan film. There needs to be a reason for him to be top of mind, especially when he technically has no body of work to give him credibility. Like it or not, a fauxmance is the way to do that, and at the end of the day, we have to remember that Harry does want to break into Hollywood. So, he has to play the game.
2) While we often joke about Larry being the music industry’s worst kept secret, it doesn’t necessarily follow that that would be the case in Hollywood. When Harry and Louis first got together, they were incredibly young (and not very good at hiding their feelings), and the people around them held relatively close ranks. They had the same bodyguards, their band was close, they worked with the same producers and song writers, they were in the same meetings, they used the same people as the crew over and over, and that level of environmental control made it much easier to mitigate the risk of them being outed while still allowing them to be “out” in their immediate environment (whether literally or through song writing). That seemed to carry over to their solo careers, where they seem to stay within the same professional circles of people as much as possible for, I suppose, many reasons, but also because I think they’ve built the kind of trust with these people that’s really hard to come by when you’re famous and closeted.
But, Harry doesn’t have that environmental control in Hollywood. He can’t call the shots on a movie set, or handpick the crew, or have time to develop that trust with all the people around him. And so, the answer to that is, if he can’t be fully out, he has to keep up some semblance of the closet by stunting, and that means, if Olivia wants to push the boundaries of their contract by being around all the damn time, then her inescapable presence, however annoying, at least serves to keep the narrative as consistent as possible with the least amount of Harry’s effort required.
TL;DR - It’s likely that Olivia is taking advantage of loopholes in a contract that was negotiated when she had professional leverage over Harry and his team, Harry and team need to choose their battles (and, I believe, have) with regards to the stunt and technically, however frustrating Olivia’s constant presence is, it’s not professionally damaging to Harry (so far) which makes it hard to draw lines for “smaller” nuisances, stunts in the music industry vs Hollywood have different goals, and unlike in the controlled circle of his professional environment in the music industry, in Hollywood, Harry likely still needs to keep up appearances because he doesn’t have the capacity to mitigate the risk of being officially outed in such a wide group of people.
Hope that was interesting to read and was at least halfway coherent!
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Koushiro Izumi Week 2023 Prompts
Koushiro week aims to offer flexibility and a variety of prompts, so that fans with different talents and amounts of free time can participate! This year, Koushiro and Tentomon took care to include folks who prefer to chat about their fandom experience or write short essays, as well as explicitly welcoming fans of Izzy <3
Entrants are free to select among the prompts on any day, or treat every day as a free day! You can post as many or as few times as you choose.
There is only one day with a set theme. Saturday October 14th will be Reblog Day! Entrants are encouraged to reblog their Koushiro and Tentomon content on that day, but please only reblog items that are not already on the Koushiro Week archive. I will make a special post on reblog day honoring our beautiful archive! Let’s share the Koushiro and Tentomon love, even if we are busy!
Event tag: izumikoushiroweek2023
Please find the prompts beneath the cut!
New Prompts for 2023
Crest of Knowledge
What does the crest of knowledge mean to you? What do you think it means to Koushiro and Tentomon? How about the people who love them?
It's lonely at the top
What is it like to be an outlier? Over the course of Adventure, Koushiro learns to use his gift to connect to others, rather than as a means to cope with lack of connection. This is beautiful, but still, being an outlier has to… complicate things. Do you think classmates or coworkers resent him and his success? Koushiro launches a business after high school. What is it like to have people relying on him for their livelihoods at such a young age? Do his older employees balk at having someone so young above them? Does he feel that he's missing out on higher education and fun college activities?
What are your Koushiro headcanons?
Alternate Universe
Do you have any AU Koushiro designs? Alternate haircuts? Show us your wildest Koushiro dreams, from mermaids to crossovers to epic fantasy!
Koushiro the mentor
Koushiro often takes on the role of mentor. He's a member of both the Adventure and the 02 teams and works hard to support everyone. Show us Koushiro offering support to the Chosen: younger, older, or both! Explore his unique role and what it means to him. Does he enjoy sharing knowledge? Does he want to remain as involved as possible with the Digital World, even when the 02 crew takes over?
So many Koushiros!
What is your favorite iteration of Koushiro? Adventure, 02, Tri, Kizuna, the reboot, the movies? Izzy and the various Koushiro dub iterations?
What is your favorite canon Koushiro outfit?
Show us a screenshot or draw it!
What is your favorite Koushiro or Izzy quote? How about Tentomon?
Screenshots/illustrations are encouraged, but not required.
Koushiro and Tentomon Screencap redraw
Koushiro memes!
Koushiro is Extremely Online, the boy has seen a meme in his day. Invent a Koushiro meme, or place him in an existing one! What memes do you think Koushiro would like?
Do you relate to Koushiro?
How so? Alternatively, what do you love about him and Tentomon?
What is something you wish we saw happen for Koushiro in canon?
I know we all have wish lists! Share yours!
Koushiro interacting with his parents
I cannot get enough of the Izumis!
Prodigious!
What is your favorite prodigious moment? What do you love about Izzy? What are your thoughts about Koushiro vs Izzy?
Emotion
As Koushiro grows more confident, perhaps he begins expressing his feelings more. Does he see this as a good thing (growth, trust that he is allowed to show how he feels), or regression (why can't I control myself like I used to)? How does Koushiro feel about personal expression and his emotions?
2022 Prompts
Feel free to use prompts from last year, or to re-interpret and explore ones you already used!
Koushiro and Tentomon
Wanna try your take on the classic Koushiro and Tentomon hug in the trolley? Or show us the boys being adorable, living their best lives together? The Koushiro and Tentomon relationship is so sweet, there is so much to explore here!
Adoption/family
Koushiro tells his friends about the adoption, visits the graves of his biological parents, meets his first ever biological relative when he has his daughter, spends time with his parents, etc. Also, Tentomon absolutely sobbing when he meets Koushiro’s kids, lol!
Friends/life outside of the Chosen
We don’t see much of Koushiro’s personal life throughout the Adventure content. What does this boy get up to? Who are his friends, both local and spread over the world? What are his hobbies? We know Koushiro is an incredible researcher/tech expert, but he is also a normal kiddo.
Confidence/the Chosen love you for you/everyone loves Koushiro
Koushiro struggles with self worth and confidence over Adventure. We see him find his way as the Digimon Tech Expert, but we know he’s so much more than that! Let’s explore Koushiro realizing that he’s needed and valued beyond his skills, and that he doesn’t need to be helpful to connect to and be loved by others- and that he very much is loved.
Confiding
Koushiro doesn’t discuss his personal life onscreen during Adventure, except to Tentomon and his parents. It would be amazing to explore him confiding in his friends.
Casual
Koushiro tries to speak more casually to his friends- this is inspired by this post.
Koushiro as the head of Chosen information/Koushiro’s company
What does Koushiro get up to in his company in Kizuna? How is he funding global Chosen activity and also researching and also having a life? How does he juggle everything? Does everyone look up to the guy who is making sure the global Chosen have the resources and information they need to operate? Are his friends concerned?
Plz help
Koushiro needs help, and the others rise up- whether he asks them to or not, lol! Maybe he’s stressed by work, juggling too much, or just in a research vortex and hasn’t come up for air in a while. Maybe a Chosen convinces him to lean on them and take a break. Or maybe someone pushes him to do “something fun,” and shenanigans ensue! Maybe Tentomon secretly calls the Chosen when Koushiro enters a Work Vortex or seems down.
Oolong tea
A classic, lol!
FASHUN
Koushiro explores fashion and style! Show us your best Koushiro Disaster Kouture ™, or show him growing out of that stage and settling into what you imagine his style might become. Does all the screen time result in glasses someday?
Eyebrows
Show us a range of Koushiro facial expressions! Dem brows are there for a reason >:3
Assistant Tentomon
Tentomon the mighty, making sure Koushiro remembers to Human (eat, sleep, call friends, etc). Tentomon, acting as Koushiro’s secretary/assistant. Tentomon learning how to research on his own! Tentomon sending an SOS when Koushiro needs some help, but is too polite to reach out.
Mochimon
HIM CUTE! HIM ROUND! SHOW US HIM!
Koushiro and Bugs
Koushiro sipping from a ladybug mug, Koushiro being gifted ladybug items, Koushiro finding ladybugs or beetles and thinking of Tentomon, Koushiro taking a bug outside when someone else wants to squish it, Koushiro casually revealing that he has an encyclopedic knowledge of beetles for Reasons.
Computer Club President Koushiro
Koushiro was the computer club president in 02 (hopefully this is true of both the English dub and original Japanese)! That would be so cute to explore!
Koushiro Playing Violin
Inspired by this.
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Happy Day 5 (Feelings Realization) of @sjmromanceweek!!!
Pairing’s mentioned: Itharion, Chaorian, Jassa
I couldn’t resist making a couch ad since SJM seems to love using chairs as a vehicle for love 😈
Dearest reader, this author has been fondly keeping up with the latest season of Fangs and Bangs. Especially now that Ithan Holstrom, famed Lunathion sunball player, has made his acting debut as a charming guitarist starring opposite a seductive singer, played by the handsome Tharion Ketos.
The chemistry between the wolf shifter and mer was off the charts during the first three episodes. Indeed, the two sparked dating rumors after being spotted strolling along the Istros riverwalk (well, Tharion was swimming, his coppery tail illustriously flashing in the sun) and eating lunch in the Moonwood district the last few weeks.
Such rumors were confirmed last night at the White Raven, where Ithan (drunkenly) shouted, "if my boyfriend wins this dance battle, next round of drinks are on me!" With the mer being known for their flexibility, it is no surprise that Ithan left the club with Tharion hand-in-hand and a sky high credit card charge.
One might argue that "Itharion" is a fake dating situation used to generate press for the new season. Others, like this author, firmly believe that the feelings developed as a result of long hours on set were simply realized after spending time together off camera.
With Fangs and Bangs being shot and aired on a weekly basis, the finale is not set in stone. But it has come to my attention that producers are planning a romance arc between Tharion and Miss Natalia Paloma, who plays a vampyr songwriter in the show. With Natalia and the general public being staunch Itharion fans, this author hopes the writers may be persuaded to change the season's course before it is too late.
King Dorian Havilliard and Lord Chaol Westfall have been two peas in a pod since the tender ages of 8 and 12—historians will call them close friends. But the chasm that often separates platonic and romantic love can thin to a fine line, and this author has become privy to information that implies such line has been finally crossed.
Gentle reader, you may recall how the flirtatious prince attended his fair share of courtly revels with the young Captain of the Guard in tow. Perhaps watching Dorian seduce all sorts of ladies had Chaol broodily wishing Dorian was flirting with him instead. Well, last month, the Hand of the King was in for a treat when he offered to organize his King's old paperwork, finding "Dorian Westfall" scribbled across several margins of palace tutoring notes. These precious records were dated to a decade prior, when Dorian was but 15 years old.
This author surmises that the court ladies were not the only ones ogling at a shirtless 18-year old Chaol Westfall as he trained with Theodus Brullo, Adarlan's Weapons Master. But whatever the cause for Dorian's affections, one cannot deny the prince has continuously prioritized Lord Westfall above himself over the years. Whether it be backing off Aelin Galathynius (nee Celaena Sardothien) or repeatedly saving his friend's life using magic, Dorian's love for Chaol is steadfastly unquestionable.
There is only one thing that comes to mind when mutual feelings are realized: "Now what?" The sensation is akin to reaching the crest of a hill, stomach tight with nerves and anticipation. It has come to my attention that the two will announce their engagement tomorrow at noon. King Dorian has been reviewing potential candidates to succeed Chaol in his role as the King's Hand, and Chaol has been busy settling into the royal chambers. Take that, historians!
Adarlan is not the only kingdom with citizens eager to see their ruler wed. This author does not consider itself impatient, but it certainly has had enough of Queen Vassa and General Jurian beating around the bush. I am sure their bickering is equally grating on their foxy roommate's poor nerves. My condolences to him, but what does one expect by throwing a mad general into the cauldron and adding a firebird queen to the mix? Passion, dear readers, passion. Well-mannered folk may believe the best relationships are maintained with agreeable manners, but this pair will have them considering otherwise. After all, we need partners who can keep our egos in check!
It is well known that the young queen has rejected multiple proposals from fair noblemen across the lands. After all, why settle for a pasty duke when you have a seasoned general always at your side? Before you accuse this author of being a hopeless romantic, consider: what is affection, if it is not scouring the markets for the queen's favorite birdseed and scratching all the hard-to-reach itches while she is stuck in her bird form (even if it is all done under a guise of teasing)? What is desire, if it is not peeping at the bathing general while perched on a tree branch, or nesting in his clothes (and thusly rolling around in his scent)?
Stubborn hearts may deny their feelings all they want, but this author wagers that forcing Queen Vassa and General Jurian in even closer proximity (a locked bedroom, perhaps?) will have them at each other's throats in a more sensual manner.
Dear Suriel, it has been centuries since the Valkyries have passed, so of course I had to drop in on the Valkyrie revival in my own court. My good friends roped me into the training session by pairing me with an Illyrian Valkyrie for a round of sparring. With her earthy brown eyes assessing me, her glossy hair fluttering in the wind, her full lips set with curiosity and determination...my heart was positively pounding! You can imagine that I tried to prolong the sparring session to the best of my ability.
To my surprise, the fierce Valkyrie became a blushing lady once we started conversing normally! I'll admit I was flustered, too. After learning how she enjoys drinking tea and reading smutty books, I plan to "drop in" again next week with a special edition novel. And maybe an invitation to high tea the following week, if all goes well. Oh, did you know that she also runs her own business? And it's a clothing store?!? Can this female get any more perfect? I think her wings are the loveliest out of all Illyrians. Actually, I think I may be in love. Help! All my love, Wine o'Clock
Dear Wine o'Clock, this is an advice column, not your personal diary! Help? It seems you are doing fine, when it comes to your courtship plan. But if you are in a tizzy over your newfound feelings...alas, there is no remedy to love sickness! But I am certain a delightful future is in store for both of you, if you catch my meaning. Cauldron bless you both, Suriel
Nolan’s Furnishings: couch BLOWOUT sale! Blow your back out on the hottest deals in Prythian! Pink couches, golden couches, red velvet fainting couches…you name it, we have it! Hear what our customers have to say about our couches: “plush enough for hours of lounging,” “sturdy enough to withstand sexual activities”
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Season of the Villains: The Forgotten One
Ok, going to admit it's pretty depressing that the idea I came up with to talk about villains all month and the series only has two posts. Will have to try again next year. Just, health has been a real struggle to do anything and most of the time I lay around just wishing the pain would stop.
But enough about real life things that suck. Time to get to fictional things that suck in a fun way!
So a bit of background before I introduce this villain. I'm a Forever GM when it comes to things like DnD and Pathfinder. Anyway after having run a lengthy Pathfinder campaign we were in the mood for something different. And not DnD of any edition cause it would be the same thing. Basically, we wanted to run a campaign in a setting that wasn't swords and sorcery. I wanted to run Mouse Guard, which I should have just used my GM override to say that's what they're playing. The rest of the party wanted to play Star Wars d20. So... Anyway, I bargained with them, and agreed to GM Star Wars under three conditions.
I got four sessions of Mouse Guard before we began Star Wars and they had to give it an honest chance. Lo and behold, even the guy who considered himself to manly to play Mouse Guard (lol at the fact that he's any kind of manly) admitted he enjoyed the game a lot and it was really good. So yay, if the game group had continued might have gotten a full campaign down the line but there were some problems with the group I can go over another time, mainly centering around two players who really hated each other that led to me just yeeting this group out the window eventually.
2. I would GM Star Wars, but I refused to set it in the modern era. If I was going to do Star Wars, I wanted to do the Old Republic. I found the setting infinitely more interesting than the modern era stuff and I really love that even the Sith Empire has a bit of nuance to it.
3. We're doing a primarily Sith campaign, because I wanted to do a campaign that involved Sith politics and power plays and not just 'You are destined to go defeat the bad guy.' I did say that after a certain point in the campaign they'd be given the freedom to leave the empire if they want and go see out the Republic to become jedi instead if that was what they wanted or become bounty hunters or anything, but the campaign was starting with all the force users as acolytes in the Sith Empire and the non-force users as mercs who had work in the Empire or were there for some other reason.
Anyway, that campaign is a heck of a story, but we're not here to recount the entire thing today, but instead talk about a villain meant to be a one off character who wound up taking the role of Main Villain for the entire campaign after a party member made some... Less than smart choices.
Introducing the Forgotten One
"I am the Forgotten One. My knowledge of the force and technology made me too dangerous to my people to be allowed to live but too valuable to kill. Instead, I was stripped of my name and identity and trapped in this prison for an eternity."
I sadly don't have any art for this guy.
BUT ANYWAY! When the party made a trip to Illum as part of their questline to build their lightsbabers. Or in the bounty hunter's case to get a crystal to power up his sniper rifle. They discover an old factory for mining crystals that has a strange structure built from force crystals, that turns out to be a powerful weapon that could be set to self-destruct and take out the planet. A bit of arguing here... See... The Star Wars party only had three people.
The Sith: Goal, become a Sith Lord, get a Dark Assembly set, master sith politics.
The Jedi: Despite being a sith campaign one person insisted no rolling a jedi. I allowed it under the condition he be flexible with his character since this was a sith campaign. After their original master is killed in the first section I also had them gain a new master through a holocron, someone who believed in balance in the force in life, and was willing to train them only under the condition they work together. His idea was that the light vs dark battles were tearing the article apart, and if he could train a jedi and a stih who could work as a team it would mean there was hope for peace for the galaxy if he could prove the two weren't incompatible. The Jedi will be the one ruining this guy's dreams and making all the bad decisions.
The Bounty Hunter: Non force user, wound up involved in the plot for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and having a kill order put out on them with the rest of the party's original mentor when he was killed off at the start of the game by a sith lord named Darth Umbra trying to make a power play for the Dark Council by eliminating "traitors" and "heretics" within the empire. Naturally said traitors and heretics were always found among the people who opposed her ascension.
Sith tried to set the thing to blow the planet up because knew about another research time that was researching force crystals and to see if there was a way to make force based technology that non force users could use. Jedi got super upset about this and wanted to undo it but I pointed out he didn't know in character the sith had sabotaged the Force Crystal Engine. Meanwhile unknown to them both the Bounty Hunter had witnessed the sabotage and already warned the researchers about it so they could fix it. Ah, such a healthy party dynamic this is.
But that's beside the point, on Illis, they found a Rakata Mind Prison. Now anyone familiar with the Rakata know that they're bad news, and Mind Prisons are bad. Anything inside a mind prison is SUPER BAD NEWS. Especially when the thing inside is a Rakata Force Ghost.
And so enter the Forgotten One. No one in the party is smart enough to pass their knowledge check to recognize what they're looking at so the Jedi touches it and his mind is ripped out of his body and transported inside where he meets the Forgotten One, who immediately assaults the Jedi's mental self so that he can try to steal his body. This ultimately fails because... And get this... The sith, despite how much he hated the jedi out of character realized something was wrong when the jedi completely stopped moving after touching the mind prison, and went inside the mind prison on purpose to back him up. Together they were able to stop the Forgotten One from taking over the jedi's body.
So... The Forgotten One changes his tone, talks about how he was robbed of his identity by the other rakata who feared him for his knowledge. Leaves out A LOT of information about the actual why and how he was imprisoned. It wouldn't fit the narrative of trying to make himself out as a victim. And claims that he's basically gone insane after being stuck in this void for years and that he knew it was wrong but tried to take the jedi's body because he was driven to desperation to get out of this void and see the world again.
And he makes an offer to both the sith and the jedi.
"I know secrets of the force that are all but forgotten to both the jedi and the sith." This should have been a red flag that he was already able to probe the jedi's mind for enough information to find out some things about the jedi and sith and current world that he should have had no way of knowing and show that he wasn't trustworthy as was literally already chowing down on the jedi's memories for information from the battle they had before the sith rescued him.
Anyway... The rakata offers a deal.
"Take me with you. Let me ride as a passenger in the back of your mind just so that I might see the galaxy again through your eyes. I just don't want to be stuck here. In exchange I'll grant you access to all the secrets of the force I know. I can make you more powerful that you dreamed possible."
NOW! Here's the fun part. This whole force ghost Rakata thing was intended as a trap for the sith. Tempt him with the dark power he wants to become a mighty sith lord and get him possessed.
But here's the thing about the Rakata. They went so hard dark side they basically made the sith look like cuddly puppies. Want to know why Tatooine is a desert and the Sand People hate outsiders and technology? Because the Sand People were slaves to the Rakata, tried to fight back with tech, and rather than come down to the planet in person and put the rebellion down, the Rakata decided to glass the entire planet turning it all into a desert and just leave. The Sand People now live in fear of the outsiders bringing in outside technology and bringing back the wrath of the Rakata who this time will not stop at just leaving the place a desert.
It's wroth noting, that all Rakata who were still alive and active and not ghosts or inside mind prisons also got severed from the force. It's unclear why at least from the old republic games. I'm sure there's a novel spin off that explains it. But it seems to be that they went so hard dark side they broke the balance of the force to the point the force just severed their entire species as a result to stop them from using those dark powers.
So... Rakata are bad news. Rakata in Mind Prisons are even worst news.
So anyway, the party fails their knowledge checks. Seriously, none of you invested points in Int? And don't recognize what a Rakata is and the level of threat they're facing. But the sith listens to this and recognizes this as a clear Faustian bargain. And is like, yeah I'm not letting a ghost into my body that's just asking trouble for down the line. And so he refuses and since the Forgotten One has already been defeated inside the Mind Prison and can't take their bodies by force now I'm like and that's the end of that character.
And then the jedi asks a stupid question.
"Will these powers make me stronger than the sith?"
Me Mentally Out of Character: Wait is he really considering this?
The Forgotten One In Character "Of course, you'd be the strongest force user alive."
Jedi "But is this going to be dark side stuff, I don't want to use the dark side."
The Forgotten One "Light and dark are such naive ways of looking at the Force. The Force is the Force. Light and dark are illusions you come up with. It is a tool and what matters is how you use the tool."
RED FLAG WARNING! Surely there's no way after the Forgotten One dodges the question about dark side powers that the jedi would
Jedi "I accept."
Me Mentally: *gears grinding to a halt as I realize I now have to rework the entire campaign storyline to deal with the jedi being possessed by an evil Rakata force ghost because he wants to be stronger than the sith character due to their out of character rivalry.
So... The Forgotten One enters the Jedi's mind and rides in the back of his head, and they all leave the Mind Prison. The Forgotten One is now free from his prison. The Sith checks out what the jedi looks like under Force Vision and discovers two auras... And the second one a super heavy dark side aura that something about it is wrong that it makes even the dark side heavy sith uncomfortable to examine it.
SO YAY! Mistakes have been made!
Now that we got to how the Forgotten One got released... Let's talk about his goals and abilities.
The Forgotten One was imprisoned instead of destroyed because his knowledge was considered too important too destroy and thus they couldn't just kill him. But there was also a secondary reason. They didn't want this guy returning to the force either. Also, it turns out that he tried to take over the Infinite Empire (The Rakata Empire that ruled the entire galaxy, same one that glassed Tatooine) through the use of forbidden force techniques and slaying all rivals. Through a great battle with many other Rakata and they finally managed to trap him in a mind prison and left it on Ilum where they thought no one would ever find it and hoped that the need ever arose to consult him about his knowledge because he was considered that dangerous.
Why is he dangerous? Well... KOTOR2 fans are going to appreciate this one. He ate people. Not their literal bodies. But like the Exile and Darth Nihilus he possessed the ability to consume people through the force, absorbing their power and making himself more powerful. This was how he became such a large scale threat by consuming more and more Rakata in the past.
And of course, he still has that power now. He's patient. He's waited thousands of years in his prison so he's patient enough to wait for the right time to tempt the jedi further. Waits for the jedi to be in a dire situation where the risk of character death exist. The player is kind of a wimp and freaks out anytime their character is actually challenged in combat, complaining about the CR being too high forgetting that combat is supposed to challenge them not be a cakewalk. I adjusted the CR to fit the strength of the party rather than their level. Anyway... When the jedi feels threatened and fears for his life in a battle against an apprentice of Darth Umbra (who you may remember as the original big bad at the start of the campaign) the ghost offers to save the jedi. Asks to be unleashed just for a few minutes so he can win the battle.
RED FLAG
The jedi agrees. The Force Ghost takes complete control of the jedi's body, makes a single gesture and the sith apprentice just falls to the ground and stops moving. Then the Forgotten One surrenders the body back to the Jedi, knowing now is not the time to make the power play to take control for real. And instead pretend he's keeping his part of the deal.
As for the body of the now defeated sith. It's still very much alive. It's breathing. Pulse is normal but slow as if they were asleep. They basically come off as asleep or comatose. Until the party sith checks out what the enemy sith looks like under force vision. And he learns two things. The enemy sith is just gone as far as the force is concerned. There's no aura at all. The body is alive, but the force that should run through all things is just gone. And the sith is naturally disturbed by the fact someone could basically just do the Star Wars equivalent of eating someone's soul, and do it so effortlessly. Then he checks force vision on the jedi and the Rakata again, and find that the Rakata aura has grown bigger. The Rakata didn't give the power he consumed to the jedi. He kept it for himself.
This would become a running theme, anytime the Forgotten One was allowed to let lose. His methods were cruel and the fates he gave arguably worse than death. When interrogating someone for information, he forcefully entered their mind and forced them to relive their worst most traumatic memories, with injuries from the day that traumatized then reappearing on their body as they rexperienced the memories till they broke and told him everything he wanted to know. And of course, he ate a lot more people, growing stronger and stronger... Until the Forgotten One's Aura looked like a massive dark aura surrounding the jedi with what appeared to resemble marinette strings as part of his aura running from his aura to the jedi's aura. It's pretty clear at this point he believes and treats the jedi as his puppet. Also every time the jedi unleashes the Forgotten One he gets a dark side point. You'd think this would be enough to make him realize the guy isn't his friend. BUT NOOOOOPE! And since the Forgotten One is inside of him he can't clearly examine its aura and see what is happening, and the Forgotten One has at this point began secretly influencing his mind with me making secret rolls for things so that the jedi would be blind to the darkness growing inside of him.
And here's the thing about how the Rakata worked manually. It could attempt to take over the jedi's body, manipulate his mind or force him to do something. If it did so the jedi got a will save. But the more people the Forgotten One consumed the higher the DC became to resist him. And... Each dark side point the jedi gained gave him a stacking -2 penalty to his will save. The Forgotten One is playing the long game, and allowing the jedi to think he's in control. When the Forgotten One tries to come out in a battle under the justification of 'self-defense' and the jedi doesn't want him to he makes a will save to suppress the rakata. He thinks he made his save because wisdom is his best stat and will his best save. In reality, the Rakata is pretending to lose to his willpower to give the jedi the illusion he's in control. By this point the Rakata has become so powerful because the jedi refuses to stop letting him off the leash, and as a result the jedi has been tainted by so many dark side points it's virtually impossible to make the save with anything other than a nat 20. All he had to do was STOP LETTING IT EAT PEOPLE and he wouldn't have had those dark side points or had the DC shoot so high up.
So we've talked a bit about the Forgotten One, and how he's gaining power and manipulating the jedi, but not his end goal. So what is it he wants? Well, he sees in the modern day (Well Old Republic era) that the Rakata are basically gone from the galaxy as a force. So, he wants to complete what he originally started. Become the ruler of the Infinite Empire that rules the entire galaxy. So his plans are basically to ride out the jedi until he's ready to take the body for himself so he has a body, infect others with a dark side mind control plague to become his followers, create a new Infinite Empire under his control and conquer the entire galaxy and become the sole all powerful rulers.
So world conquest. A basic, but always fun goal for a villain to have. And once he conquered the entire galaxy he would then turn his attention to outside the galaxy.
Also, I mentioned a Dark Side Mind Control Plague. So anyway, the sith and the bounty hunter recognize that this ghost is a problem and needs to be dealt with. And so outright tell the jedi this and that if he won't get rid of it they will. Which means the force ghost here this.
So what does the Forgotten One do? Well at this point he's powerfule enough to split his essence in two. Remember the body of the sith apprentice to Umbra? The party had it in their med bay for the entire campaign. One night while the party is asleep he splits a part of himself off and has it use the escape pod to run off in that sith's body since it's completely empty and nothing there to fight back. Doesn't need as much power to manipulate it so can basically keep it as a secondary body he can operate remotely while keeping the jedi as his main body. But if the jedi dies he has a secondary body with his essence installed in it to immediately travel to and make his main host.
Now... The Sith and Bounty Hunter are having none of this once they realize what happened. They track the escape pod and realize it was picked up by a space station. As they had been building a power base for a war with Umbra they had built up several pirate connections to use in place of lacking a proper Sith Empire Armada. So they sent their pirates to lock down the space station and make sure no one gets in or out until they can get there to deal with the escaped force ghost.
The jedi misses a session and we have an excuse he's gone for special training. So, the sith and the bounty hunter take this chance to go to the space station themselves while the jedi is away and they won't be observed by the Forgotten Run. Things are strange when they get there, and the station is literally on fire.
First off, they find the body of the sith apprentice. And this time it's not only empty but the body is dead again. They correctly deduce that it moved on to another host. But they run into a problem.
Force Zombies.
Basically a bunch of the random citizens of the colony act as if they're in a daze and don't understand anything said to them. But then all start trying to kill the party. And despite the fact they should have all been non force users, they were throwing out things like Force Lighting.
And when the party examines them on Force Vision, finds basically a little seed of darkness planted in them that matches the Forgotten One's Aura.
Dark Side Force Mind Control Plague.
The party meets up with the resistance inside the station still fighting back, and is told not to go to sleep. Because when you sleep is when it gets you and you change. The leader of the resistance helps them track down the current host body, who is inhabiting the body of a small girl and building some kind of antennae that the party figured out would actually allow him to extend his force powers to broadcast them to far away planets and influence them from afar to repeat what he's doing here.
Party kills the host body even though it's a little girl as basically learns the hard way these people are already dead. They're just hallowed out shells to be used as puppets by the Forgotten One. Then they destroy the antennae and make sure it's destroyed to a point it can never be rebuilt.
At that point, the Sith, who is now a Sith Lord with some political standing, forcefully recruits all the survivors of the event into his power base. To which there is surprisingly little push back from.
RED FLAG!
He thought it was because they were grateful. In reality, it was because the little girl was not the real host body. It was the leader of the resistance who was. But also knew they wouldn't leave till they thought they had destroyed the secondary Host Body and so created a cover story. In addition, the reason people change when they fall asleep is they've already been infected with the mind control plague. Once they're asleep they lose the ability to fight back being unconscious making it the opportune time to take over. So, the secondary Host Body AND a bunch of infected civilians join the Sith's power base.
And naturally, they start to secretly spread the infection among as many people as possible. Considering multiple stations on different planets each with their own population and them not limiting the plague to just the sith's power base. It's not long before they have millions or even billions infected. But, they keep the mind plague inert, waiting for the opportune time to activate it. After all, if they activate it right away, the party will realize they failed. Better to activate it when they have enough people to recreate the Infinite Empire in numbers. But this time, the empire shall become a single person who has complete control of all the bodies and minds of its members.
So how does this go for the jedi? Well the Forgotten One knows the sith and bounty hunter will tell the jedi what happened. So before that can happen, he tells the jedi that he needs to tell him something, about the atrocities committed by the rest of the party. He shows the party gunning and cutting down civilians at the colony including children. But edits the vision he shows the jedi to leave out the part they were all puppets to make it look like they just killed random innocent people. Something that would be even out of character for the sith but
Jedi: Ok I believe you.
Wow, I almost feel bad at this point cause he's making it too easy for this villain to just take over. The Forgotten One then explains that all he wanted to do was create a secondary host body and hide it somewhere away from the party and that's all he did. Just hide. A blatant lie. But he points out the party was planning to try to find a way to destroy him, which was true because he's freaking ridiculously over the top evil, and so he had only made a spare body as a safety measure and definitely hadn't done anything evil or questionable with it.
Jedi: Ok I believe you.
The party and the jedi meet up again, and the party tells the jedi what really happened. He refuses to listen to them because the party sith is a sith and therefore he can't trust him. No instead he's going to trust the obviously evil dark side force ghost inside his head. Even after at this point having caught it in a lie multiple times about various things it said it was doing or not doing.
So... Anyway the party encounters actual jedis at one point who freak out upon seeing the party jedi because they've never felt so much darkness before. The jedi insists he's light sided and a jedi. With the amount of dark side points he has being in the teens... That's laughable. Might have even hit twenty. Jedi demand if he's really a jedi that he disarm and come with them to be healed of whatever darkness is in them, ghost isn't having any of that, and fully take control of the jedi's body to defeat and consume all of the jedi.
So you know you'd think at this point it would be really obvious he needs to get rid of this thing. But no, that's not that makes him finally decide to get rid of it. It was the amount of darkside points. See, in order to be consider a fallen jedi your dark side points have to exceed your wisdom score. Since he had been pumping wisdom all campaign he was able to get like 20 dark side points without turning. That means 20 times he committed an evil action beyond redemption. This isn't even counting the times he did something screwed up like shoot an unarmed party member who he randomly decided was evil cause said party member killed an enemy unit that was fleeing to get reinforcements in which I let things slide and often with the "I'll withhold the dark point you should get with this action if you stop arguing about it." So he honestly should have already fallen but I was lenient when I really shouldn't have been.
But he finds himself in a troubling situation. His dark side points are now equal to his ridiculously high wisdom score. This means a single dark side will render him as fallen and block out all the light goodies he wanted. So... He finally... FINALLY! Considers that maybe it might be time to get rid of the ghost. Purely for meta reasons of not wanting to ruin his light side build instead of the 50 million in character reasons he has.
Luckily, I had a whole redemption plot planned where he could get rid of the ghost. The party was advised to go to Voss for healing. Now, he was told the ghost was so ingrained into him removing the Forgotten One would permanently de-power him. Chasing power is what got him into this mess. He had to be willing to take a loss of power in the form of -2 con in order to get rid of it. Then, he would have to do a ritual where he would enter his own mindscape, be confronted by his internal demons before finally facing off against the Force Ghost itself and trying to kill it in his mind to be rid of it.
There were a couple of fun twists planned here. One of them, was that if he killed the Forgotten One inside of him, the Forgotten One would survive by making Darth Umbra its main host. She was of course attacking the party's power base and occasionally capturing people and the backup body had used this as a chance to infect her. So the two villains competing for main villain would have become one.
The other twist, was I told the jedi he could get weaker for doing the ritual. What I didn't tell him is he would also get stronger. I had a reward for him, where he would learn a special Force Shield technique that would effectively make him immune to all mind effects. It was also going to be very important in the ending... Because he would have been able to use the Force Shield on the Forgotten One in whatever host body they were in, trapping it there and cutting it off from its connection to all the people it had mind controlled and made into part of him, saving them and trapping teh Forgotten One in a body he can't escape from thus killing the body would kill him.
Now it's very important I didn't tell him about this reward in advance. The point was he had to be willing to let go of power to complete the ritual and defeat the Forgotten One. He had to believe there was no reward beyond being free of the ghost. As a result, if I had told him about the Mind Shield in advance he would have known he was getting an awesome new power and had that be his motivation instead.
Anyway... This is where our Jedi's story ends. Because he's stupid.
He's told he will not survive his mindscape alone and quickly be overwhelmed by his personal demons unless he brings friends with him that he can trust. His other issue in this campaign is refusing to trust his fellow party members even when they're helping him despite him acting more evil than the sith. Also I'm not spending 6 hours running a solo adventure for him. The entire party gets to come.
He refuses to bring the party. Is told both in and out of character if he goes into the mindscape alone he will die. Literally told over ten times counting both in and out of characters being told.
But he says he can't trusts the party so goes in alone, and dies. And then gets mad at me for not balancing the encounters right and I'm like no the encounters for balanced fine. For the entire party to be there. You went in solo to take on a dungeon intended for the entire group despite being told it would get you killed.
So, the jedi's spirit is destroyed. The Forgotten One takes full control of his body and steals the party's starship and flies off to finish his plans.
He would later return as the final boss after Darth Umbra was defeated, revealing that he had been using Umbra as a pawn after her infection to rebuild the antennae on an old Rakata station after the party destroyed the last one.
The party and the Forgotten One fight, and with all the power it absorbed over the cmapaign while living in the jedi, and then even more power absorbed once it had the body to itself to be free to do what it wants it's a powerful foe that would put the entire dark council to shame. The party is now facing a threat that is on par with the Emperor itself.
Somehow, the party turns the tables, and starts to squeak out a win. But the Forgotten One then warns them. It's still connected to everyone that it infected including the ones that the mind plague is inert in. If the party strikes him down, his final actions will be to activate all the inert mind plagues joining everyone with him so that billions of people die, including people the party cares about and much of their own power base if they strike him down.
The party considers briefly, but decides that they have to do it despite the cost. Because those people are already basically dead if he lives as soon as he decides to activate the inert mind plague and chooses to strike him down. Sure enough, true to his word, billions throughout the galaxy instantly drop dead. But the nightmare is finally over.
The party blames the deaths on Darth Umbra, and the super weapon she was building. Which was only a half lie since the super weapon was the force antennae that would allow him to project his powers to a much greater range. And they are forced to dispose of the body of the jedi that the Forgotten One had been riding in, putting the body of their former friend to rest even if he never treated them like friends.
But though the Forgotten One is dead, the impact he left on the galaxy will never heal. Billions dead. Several traumatized, and entire worlds with their infrastructure in tatters things to the people in charge of running things dropping dead. The party has won a victory, but one that came at a heavy cost.
And all because a single jedi refused to turn away from power.
#Halloween#Season of the villains#Star Wars#StarWarsd20#DnD#Rakata#Forgotten One#Force Ghost#Mind Prison#Jedi#Sith#Bounty Hunter#Table Top RPG#RPG#Sometimes Players Make Really Stupid Choices And You Can Do Nothing But Let Them Play Out
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I saw you were taking asks? I have a few questions I'd love to hear your answers.
What is your favorite side ark in the fossil fighters games?
Favorite characters/character dynamics?
Not a question, but I would love to hear about your personal headcannons about characters and such.
Have you ever thought about Dinaurian lore?
I'd love to hear all your thoughts on this, it's so rare that anyone has anything to say about the games. If you don't answer all (or any of them) that's totally fine! ^^
Hiya!! This got a bit long so here's the cut-off:
Favorite side ark in the fossil fighters games?
Oh gosh it's hard to decide because two certain arks are my favorite: The Nick Nack ark in the original and the Princess Pooch ark in Champions.
I feel like they mix in just the right amount of zany with plot progression to feel both fun and important errands! Princess Pooch's helps with unlocking the Miraculous Fossils and keeps the weird lore of dogs being intelligent enough to Fossil Battle from the first game and Nick Nack's even ties in Dr. Diggin's lost sandals. Nick Nack also has one of the most memorable themes lol.
Favorite characters/character dynamics?
Dynamic-wise: Hands down, the BB Brigade in Champions. They play off of each other so well and (even though I think their writing with Don/Joe is flawed) I wish we could have seen them more with Joe after the main story!!! The Patrol Team even has a great dynamic that is very fleshed out by the end of the game. I'm even enjoying Becky and Sean's sibling relationship in Frontier at the moment. Also, I like Dynal's dynamics/interactions with EVERYONE in the original. The guy clearly brings a presence that makes you want to pick at him, especially with Dr. Diggins, Raptin, and Duna.
Characters: OBVIOUSLY Joe Wildwest!!!!!!! Other favorites include Duna, the BB Brigade, Patrol Team, Drake, Violet, and Sean and Becky are growing on me.
Headcannons?
TONS!!!! Oh god UUHHHHH WHERE TO BEGIN-
Stella is takes her job the most seriously but she also wouldn't she she's married to her job of being a Staff Leader. Joe can trust her with almost anything in the park. She's also a lesbian.
Terry and Kent are not as professional as Stella but they still take their job seriously. Terry tends to be more aloof while Kent would rather snowboard. They are Bi but don't really seem interested in dating as they are currently in positions that make it hard to date.
Dr. Diggins was probably really scared to see Dynal again after the Guhnash battle because Dynal is going to learn one way or another that he stole the Dinurian tech from that crashed ship. Dynal eventually is told the truth by him and just goes 'okay' since it's not much of a big deal anymore.
I have this very specific headcannon that curators and just fossil fighters in general who work in museums have to have an impressive cleaning record. The cleaning side quests in the first game and the Hare Club stuff in Champions helped fuel this.
Dino and Dina are fraternal twins! Dino even is Autistic and Dina has ADHD.
Vivosaur battles are really taught in school unlike much other monster collecting and battling games and other RPGs but rather it's treated much like a sport with scientific and historical roles as well. I much tend to think that Hunter and Rosie and other kids on Vivosaur Island are there since it's summer break. The Patrol Team each have their own reasons for getting to be at Caliosteo: Dina and Dino are home-schooled, Todd was able to tag along since he became friends with them for being home-schooled as well, Pauleen probably doesn't get public school and obviously ran off to join the tournament, and Rupert gets his schedule managed by someone else but he probably goes to a tight private school that's flexible with their students being absent for periods of time.
Frontier does make it canon that everything takes place on an Earth similar to our own with the same countries but I chose to believe France doesn't exist. That's Nomadistand now. They're separated far from other countries? Well I guess they have some wide rivers now for borders.
Vivosaurs can be kept as pets but there are many laws and risks that come with it. Smaller vivosaurs are easier to tame but larger ones are more challenging. They're treated much the same as exotic pets: Yeah, it's nice to own one, but it's not very safe.
Nevada and Joe have a rivalry going on that doesn't make much sense to everyone else but it does keep journalists busy whenever a fossil tourney is announced. Sean also ties into this but he's more of the mediator who was invited to eat pizza and watch a documentary with friends not sit awkwardly on the couch and watch as his two friends throw pillows at one another to try and counter-argument each other about the topics of the documentary.
Duna barely remembers much of her home planet but Raptin, being older, does. This is possibly why he was more enraged by Duna's betrayal.
I think Joe and Rupert should get therapy animals/vivosaurs after Champions to help with the body-stealing trauma. As a treat. Rupert should get a fluffy white great pyrenees dog named Antionette and Joe should get a nine-banded armadillo named Sundance.
Rosie gets really into fossil battles to the point she goes pro and that's why she's at Caliosteo. She eventually finds out she'd Bi and dates Duna in the future (Duna finds herself identifying as a lesbian).
^The whole romance thing was kind of just brought on due to the amount of thrilling moments with Hunter so both Rosie and Duna kind of fall out of romantic love with him but still have a tight bond that borders on family.
Hunter also eventually goes pro with fossil battling but prefers to travel more. Rosie and Duna eventually get a quiet house on Vivosaur Island together and Hunter also lives there when he's not traveling. :)
I think Holt and Todd should meet up and be friends. :)
Pauleen would get really into fashion design when she's older. She's mostly inspired by fire type vivosaurs.
Rupert takes over his dad's company and even learns to ride a motorcycle.
Todd gets into rogue vivosaur wrangling since he finally found his courage during the events of Champions. :)
Dina takes over the park and Todd is her secretary.
Dino gets to go pro at fossil battles since he was better at making strategies and vivosaur teams (Dina's top strategy is 'hit everything with sharp claws and teeth really fast') and he gets a lot of trophies. He also gets to be Rupert's boyfriend/partner. :)
Cole gets to go back to school and gets back into his robotic engineering degree (he failed to earn all of his credits the first time around and just decided to drop out since he didn't like his professors anyway). He eventually finds work at FossilDig and Caliosteo making cleaning devices. Sometimes, when he's mad, he threatens to make Five Nights at Freddy's real.
Lola has a harder time deciding to go back to school since she failed her medical science classes. It takes some encouragement and inspiration from Cole and Lester to help her along.
Lester tries to follow his dream of being a musician again and gets to form his own rock band! They call themselves the 'B-0NES' in tribute to the BB Brigade.
Joe Wildwest is gay. :)
Zongazonga's corpse is stuck in eternity as a tourist attraction.
If you want more I leak headcannon stuff onto this workplace parody account on here that's also a bit RP-ish: @realjoewildwest
Have you ever thought about Dinaurian lore?
Actually I have!! I've seen some headcannons floating on here with Dinurians messing with Guhnash's origins. I also think that they also traded with other aliens before they came to Earth since running a huge ship does take a certain amount of supplies to manage. Unsurprisingly, I choose to also believe that nearly every Dinurian can have a battle hologram.
I also think that white-hair can also be a sign of aging but those with white hair and pale skin are usually linked in some way to the royal bloodline that is King Dynal's. It's only Dynal who carries on the royal bloodline these days, however.
When I say 'big space ship' I mean big enough that the Dinurians have a safe gene pool for repopulation methods. It was probably initially made for the purpose of escaping their home planet months in advance since their methods of destroying Guhnash kept failing.
#mvf responds#fossil fighters#fossil fighters champions#tyyyyy!!!!!!!#this one got away from me again lolllll#i also have a fic called 'Fly Away with Me' for more headcanons and stuff (mostly Joe stuff lol)
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EVALUATING A CONSUMER GOVERNMENT COURSE
In this posting, there is one more concern this blog addresses regarding a proposed approach to civics education. For interested readers, they are encouraged to look up the posting, “A Practical Turn” (March 19, 2024). It is there that one finds the beginning of this effort. It can be found through the citation here,[1] or, along with subsequent postings, by using the archive feature of this blog. In total, those postings provide a rationale for the course of study being proposed.
As for the remaining concern, i.e., what this posting addresses, that would be the evaluation of the course itself – curriculum evaluation. To evaluate this course of study several aspects are reviewed. This evaluation scheme categorizes those factors according to a procedural model of evaluation devised by Lawrence Halprin.[2] The model is entitled the RSVP Cycle and seems more appropriate here than usual curriculum models because what is needed is not the evaluation of a school wide curriculum, but of a course of study.
While dated, this model is still well regarded.[3] The letters R, S, V, P refer to the categories of concerns or criteria Halprin says are present in ideal procedural relationships during the performance of a multidisciplinary event. Because of the decision-making emphasis of this course, such a model promises to be useful and is open-ended to concerns of the environment in which this course of study would be utilized.
The categories are:
R = resources upon which a course can draw.
Does this course operate within and take advantage of physical limitations?
Does this course operate within financial constraints?
Does this course respect societal, institutional, cultural expectations?
S = sources evaluating preparation processes leading to implementation.
Are the roles of participants defined and sensitive to their needs and dispositions?
Are the curriculum goals and objectives accepted by significant others?
Are time allocations reasonable for completion of tasks?
Are communication preparations adequate for acquiring needed information?
V = valuaction (coined term) which analyzes the consequences of actions (decisions) taken.
Are all predicted outcomes accounted for in the progression of the course?
Are values incorporated at decision points clearly stated and understood?
Are the two above concerns given adequate priority in terms of their utility?
P = performance, that is evaluation of actual behaviors during the process.
Are specified behaviors appropriate to meet curricular and instructional objectives?
Are behaviors and processes efficient?
Are processes flexible enough to meet reasonable unplanned changes?
It is suggested here that if this course were to take on any level of implementation among schools, that, for each implementation, this model be considered to develop evaluative instrument specifically suitable to that implementation, both on a summative and formative basis. This process should be done by school site curricular administrators.
A couple of things should be kept in mind. One, this course is offered as a transition stage toward an approach that is communal, a course guided by a liberated federalism construct. And two, if this course, with administrative approval, is only being utilized by a particular teacher – not a school or school district –these ideas are suggested to assist that teacher. That is, they should not be considered a “must do” list of required criteria. And with that, the rationale for a consumer government course of study is complete.
[Note: Due to medical reasons, this blogger is ceasing the blog’s Tuesday-Friday posting schedule. He anticipates he will, from time to time, issue new postings. He also wishes to thank readers for their readership.]
[1] URL: https://gravitascivics.blogspot.com/2024_03_17_archive.html.
[2] Lawrence Halprin, The RSVP Cycles: Creative Processes in the Human Environment (New York, NY: George Braziller, Inc., 1970).
[3] Interested? See URL, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QbIi966lOLs.
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Ordeals for Elders: Creating the Suitable Practise Arrangement
Seniors name for authorities practice to assert muscularity tone, better stamina and get self-trust. In that respect are many other advantages that drill Sessions render, that assert the elder bread and butter for a longer flow and left over absent from wellness issues. You take to take out the everlasting breeding software system that adequately fits their mental ability and requires. Infra are just about tips to mystify your started verboten.
What They Commode Do
The tonality pattern is to hardly render ample physical exertion that bequeath push enough pedigree drive to all the determinative organs, in add-on to maintain muscleman Mass pot. Heftiness mickle has the tendency to withering altogether over the after stages of an individual's life-style. You sustain to get to keep crafty-gained tissues via both of those vessel routines, stretching routines and bodyweight instruction. In the start, it is important that you do a formula assessment of the elderly finical person first of all, to urinate absolutely certain that she or he tail end do wholly the strong-arm exercises without substantially problems.
Exceptionally arduous exercising crapper be negative to the basic discipline of elders. You have got to arrest KO'd their response by listening to their verbalizations and observing how they header. If you bring out or so inauspicious signs this form of as prominent metabolism, utmost sweaty, release of Balance, saggy eyelids and tone down to uttermost discomfort, straightaway kibosh the action.
Acquiring Flexible
Physical exercise regimens ought to be individualized, which implies that a someone lotion is simply instructed for a nonpareil case-by-case. The sure manoeuvre is incredibly suggested presented that it volition assume off well of the terror of overtraining. You stern as well mapping retired enhancement often Thomas More with efficiency by featuring the certain genial of routines, option of repetitions and sets and duration of every single forcible exercising. Do good from a backlog e-book and fulfill in totally the details of apiece play extinct.
Bring KO'd plans wish to be truly multipurpose, in the touch sensation that the routines and forms of motions neuter for each one 7 years approximately, depending on the reply of the patient role. Your goal is to maximize or observe flexibility, tycoon and speciality, if come-at-able, so the physical exertion Roger Sessions necessitate to be upped as the mortal gets practically improve and a great deal ranking.
Receiving Get SMS online
If you evident to be a interested Logos or granddaughter affectionate for an aged man beingness in your home, it is forever helpful to start out the vantage point of an dependent when generating your crop extinct approaching, so you ass pick come out the identical Best motley and stamina that meet the requirements of the node. Professionals arrest dieticians, wellness social club trainers, physiotherapists, Greco-Roman deity professionals, nurses and dietetic regime who bequeath visit if the system of rules is even off or FAR besides demanding.
All ended the to embark on with brace of periods, you tin can doubt the expert to help you in assisting the elder go through with the many actions. Right carrying out is critical to arrive at the several aims and aims. Master help oneself is necessity each and every at the clip in a although, specially all through the multiplication when you are by straightaway intended to appraise the senior's reaction to remedy.
Former Sources
When defining the practice session routine, you butt consult to study knocked out DVDs that accommodates seniors, go through online forums and construe picture clips online. You tin besides go to aged facilities to possess a scheme how a measure programme goes. Find approximately tips from academics and the pros most assessment and neutering the distinctive for the node. In prison term, you leave build up the electrical capacity in retention the fourth-year easy when provision them a by all odds philosophical doctrine forcible drill. Be reminded that dieting authorities and easiness are the early deuce factors that leave sufficiently attend to the physical exertion application program for elder citizens.
Elders necessitate authorities education to keep up muscular tissue heap tone, amend endurance and come upon self-trust. In the bug out away, it is critical that you do a wide-cut judgement of the fourth-year citizen in the first, to cook sure that he or she arse do entirely the work out routines with extinct practically problems.
Really vivid forcible work out seat be hazardous to the entirely circle make out of elderly citizens. When defining the exert modus operandi subroutine, you canful cite to execute come out of the closet DVDs that caters to elders, watch on the web community forums and construe movies on-descent. Be reminded that diet contrive and relief are the other 2 parts that volition adequately aid the work out programme for seniors.
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Internship Entry 8
Your overall reflections on the internship and your studies.
According to Moon (1999) and Deakin (2020), being able to reflect on experiences faced allows for a person to learn effectively on skills needed for particular scenarios and offers a significant benefit when experiencing similar events in the future.
Looking back on my journey at Holmesglen I really enjoyed every moment I was there! I created some quality friendships and relationships with a number of my peers, and I am hopeful that they will last into the future as we all share a passion for sport.
Reflecting on my classwork and time on campus however, I wish I had the opportunity to be in class more during my 1st and 2nd year (Covid affected), so I could ask more questions and have that extra level of exposure to industry opportunities. However, I am beyond happy and grateful with the opportunities that were presented to me in my 3rd and final year, and with the opportunity to intern at 2 incredibly generous organisations.
It is incredibly important to reflect wholly on an experience and as Purdue University (2021) alludes to, “putting multiple perspectives into play with each other in order to produce insight” is something I can effectively do given my time at the AGF and the Saints.
At the Amy Gillett Foundation I am really pleased with my time there, I learnt so much from both my fellow interns and from everyone at the organisation. Being at a workplace which worked so hard to provide a service in road safety, adds that extra level of satisfaction, and makes me feel like I was doing something that impacts people for generations, which I am proud of. Although I didn’t get to attend the Gran Fondo in person, I received compliments from everyone at the organisation as to how great and impactful my work was, and I am proud with that. Having the opportunity to work closely with Katie (Events) and Dan (CEO) allowed me to really strengthen my knowledge across multiple facets of event management and creating professional documentation for corporate partnerships and general professional sponsorship use. Having the guidance of someone like Dan Kneipp was incredible, and for him to be so generous with his time and trusting of me to do these important corporate partnership and presentation documents, I couldn’t be more grateful to him for taking a chance on me and providing me with a launchpad into the industry.
At the St Kilda Football Club, being able to experience what it was like being at a top tier sporting organisation was an incredible experience across the board. Heading into the internship I did have some experience and knowledge of HR as my mum is in that field however getting to work in contracts, awards, remunerations, and onboarding processes although somewhat repetitive, was extremely enjoyable and rewarding and I am now extremely confident with all of those processes. Also being in HR I got to work closely with majority of the organisation and created great relationships particularly with members of the marketing and finance teams. From my failed parking attempts in front of Ross Lyon to creating great relationships with my co-workers, I really enjoyed every second at the saints and I am extremely grateful to the organisation for welcoming me into such a well-respected and elite level organisation.
Something that will stick with me for a long time and something that I will reflect on, is what Dan from AGF said following my internship presentation, he said “its not about whether you think you deserve a job or if you would like to work somewhere, its whether you have done enough to impact on the organisation or workplace in a meaningful way and whether they would hire you.” This will be a constant reminder to work hard, and always challenge myself to push my capabilities further, especially in sport, where the everchanging landscapes demand flexibility and hard work in all aspects of the business.
I am also proud to say that I have been offered a role at both the Amy Gillett Foundation and the St Kilda Football club, and I can’t wait to get started in whichever role I choose in 2023!
It’s been a blast!
Kyle :)
Resources:
Deakin. (2020). Reflective Learning. https://www.deakin.edu.au/students/studying/study-support/academic-skills/reflective-learning#:~:text=Being%20a%20reflective%20learner%20allows,improving%20on%20your%20future%20performance.
Moon, J. (1999). Reflection in Learning and Professional Development. Routledge. Google Scholar.
Purdue University. (2021). The Purpose of Reflection - Why is reflection important in the writing classroom?. https://www.cla.purdue.edu/academic/english/icap/assessment/purpose.html
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PART 4
Description:
A detailed discussion about the regulations Islam has set in regards to dealing with crime in society. Part 4: The second and third types of punishments, retribution and discretionary punishments, the types of crimes for which they have been legislated, as well as the wisdom behind them.
2. Retribution
This is the second type of punishment in Islamic Law. This is where the perpetrator of the crime is punished with the same injury that he caused to the victim. If the criminal killed the victim, then he is killed. If he cut off or injured a limb of the victim, then his own limb will be cut off or injured if it is possible without killing the criminal. Specialists are used to make this determination.
Important Rules Regarding Retribution
1. Retribution is not lawful except where the killing or injury was done deliberately. There is no retribution for accidentally killing or injuring someone.
God says:
“O you who believe, retribution is prescribed for you in the case of murder...” (Quran 2:178)
And He says:
“…There is retribution in wounds...” (Quran 5:45)
2. In the crimes where the criminal directly transgresses against another, Islam has given the wish of the victim or his family an important role in deciding whether or not the punishment should be carried out. Islam permits the victim to pardon the perpetrator, because the punishment in these crimes is considered the right of the victim. Islam even encourages pardon, promising a reward in the hereafter for the one who does.
God says:
“If anyone waives the right to retaliation out of charity, it shall be an expiation for him.” (Quran 5:45)
The pardon can either be to the payment of blood money, a fixed, monetary compensation, or can be total, where no worldly compensation is demanded. God says:
“To forgive it is closer to piety...” (Quran 2:237)
3. The punishment must be carried out by the government. The family of the victim cannot carry it out.
The Wisdom behind Retribution:
With regard to Islamic punishments in general, and retribution in specific, we find that they have two complementary characteristics. The first of these is the severity of the punishment. This is in order to discourage the crime and limit its occurrence.
The second characteristic is the difficulty of establishing guilt, reducing the opportunities for carrying out the punishment, and protecting the accused. In this vein, we see the principle that punishments are waived in the presence of doubt, and that the benefit of the doubt is always given to the accused. Some prescribed punishments are even waived on the grounds of repentance, as we can see in the case of highway robbery. This is also seen in the permissibility of pardon in the case of retribution and the fact that pardon is encouraged and preferred.
These two elements complement each other in that crime is effectively discouraged, protecting society, and the rights of the accused are safeguarded by the fact that speculation and accusations cannot be grounds for punishment, and that the accused enjoys the greatest guarantee of justice and being spared the punishment whenever possible. Most people will abstain from committing crime, because of the severity of the punishment, and the punishments for these crimes will rarely be carried out. In this way, the general security of society and the rights of the individual are equally realized.
3. Discretionary Punishments
These are punishments that are not fixed by Islamic Law, for crimes that either infringe on the rights of God or the rights of an individual, but do not have a fixed punishment or a set expiation.
Discretionary punishments are the broadest category of punishments, because the crimes that have fixed punishments are few in number and all other crimes fall under the scope of this last category.
They are the most flexible type of punishment, because they take into consideration the needs of society and changing social conditions. Consequently, they are flexible enough to realize the maximum general benefit to society, effectively reform the criminal, and reduce the harm that he causes.
Islamic Law has defined different types of discretionary punishments starting from exhortations and reprimands to flogging, to fines, and to imprisonment. These discretionary measures are left to the decision of the legal authorities within the general framework of Islamic Law and the universal purposes of Islam that balance between the right of society to be protected from crime and the right of the individual to have his freedoms protected.
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The Quiet Room
- Chapter 6 - ao3 - (previous tumblr pt 1, pt 2, pt 3, pt 4, pt 5)
The Lan sect’s rules said Learning comes first, and that was because learning was the root of all things.
Humans were changeable and ever-changing, molded by their heritage and their environment; it was through careful education that they learned to comprehend goodness – it was only through constant learning that they could keep themselves walking on the path of righteousness.
Learning from books, learning from others, learning from one’s own mistakes; it didn’t matter.
What was important was that you couldn’t stop learning.
You had to keep moving forward.
Lan Wangji had for some time entertained the thought that his life had stopped when Wei Wuxian’s had. It had felt as though it had: it felt as if his heart had been irrevocably shattered, like a priceless vase that had once contained all his tender feelings – all those feelings that, lacking their container, would now slip through his fingers forever, leaving him as empty as a soulless puppet. He’d thought he was doomed never to love again, never to learn again, all his mind consumed with nothing by memories.
He’d been wrong, of course.
Even with Wei Wuxian gone, he was still learning.
There were his recent meditations on the subject of silence and noise, for one.
There were his wards, for another.
Lan Sizhui was a polite and thoughtful child, inquisitive but a little shy and hesitant, a little fearful to assert himself – a little too quiet, in a way that Lan Wangji was starting to be able to recognize as being not good, a silence and reticence born of concern and anxiety rather than genuine introversion. Luckily, there was also Lan Jingyi, who was and had always been the liveliest and most spirited of children, and yet he, too, was just a little bit too loud in a way that reflected his own method of displaying anxiety, another startling realization that was brand new.
Lan Wangji had always associated quiet with reserve and self-control, noise with carelessness and recklessness, but being in the controlled chaos of Qinghe and really sincerely listening to it, accepting it, came with its own set of revelations. He found that there were people who were naturally loud and those that made themselves be loud, just as there were those who were quiet and those who were forced into quietude. Lan Jingyi worried just as much as the next person, but he displaced those feelings through distraction rather than through the force of his willpower, taking on the role of clown or hero as suited each moment, unafraid to cast himself in the role of aggressor if it would allow Lan Sizhui the chance to play the mediator. The subconscious division of roles allowed Lan Sizhui to feel useful and in control, reducing his anxiety, while Lan Jingyi got to feel taken care of, which reduced his own – it was good, in a way, but after some consideration Lan Wangji carefully took them both in hand and told them that they would need to be more thoughtful about it.
Lan Sizhui could not, should not, always have to be the peacemaker, always yielding and kind and gentle and quiet: he deserved to be loud, too. He deserved to be assertive, to be heard, to feel entitled to take up space regardless of his utility to those around him. He should never feel like he had to pay in service for the right to exist.
And by the same token, Lan Jingyi shouldn’t feel burdened to always have to be the one to take the first step, always acting as the driving force, the loud and opinionated one. He should have the opportunity, and the obligation, to think through what he was doing or saying, to be thoughtful and careful, to sometimes yield if he wished; he should be granted space of his own to make sure that his actions were what he wished them to be rather than some impulse.
Lan Wangji only wished he’d had the wisdom to tell Wei Wuxian the same thing while he’d been alive.
He’d been so short-sighted when he was younger, at first unable to recognize how he felt about the man and then unable to figure out how to speak with him – he’d been unable to break his own habitual silence, and equally unable to see the depths concealed in Wei Wuxian’s brash arrogance, especially towards the end. Like Lan Jingyi, Wei Wuxian’s reckless courage was genuine, especially in the happy days of their youth; like Lan Jingyi, when things got bad, Wei Wuxian had taken refuge in more of the same, building himself walls made of noise that were designed to keep everyone out.
Wei Wuxian might have been noisy and loud, right to the very end, but in his own way he’d been just as alone as Lan Wangji in his excess of quiet.
The next generation, Lan Wangji thought fiercely, would do better.
He felt comforted by that thought.
The children were chewing over Lan Wangji’s words as they walked along the outmost ramparts of the Unclean Realm, already inured to the glittering barrier that hung in their sky, full of arrays and inscriptions – they were accompanying Lan Wangji on his daily walk.
The Nie sect’s doctors had a very different regimen for curing illnesses than the Lan sect’s, he’d found. Thirty-three strikes of the discipline whip: in both places he’d gotten stitched back up, but while the Lan sect doctors had allowed him to retreat into seclusion, prescribing medicine and rest and self-reflection, the Nie sect doctors insisted on coupling medicine and meditation with exercise. Intermittent and gradual exercise, meant to increase flexibility and reduce muscle atrophy – it wasn’t really that different from what Lan Wangji had been left to do on his own back at home, but he found that it was easier to struggle against his stubborn body when he had company to encourage him to take that extra step beyond his limits, their voices pushing him when his own willpower was insufficient. Even the silent presence of the two children, walking beside him, helped him find the reason to keep going.
Truly, there was much to consider on the subject of quiet and noise, of loud and soft, of loneliness and isolation and how no amount of either introversion nor extroversion could alone save you from them.
Lan Wangji was still thinking it over when he heard a new noise.
It was also an old noise, painfully familiar from all those days of war – before he even consciously identified what the sound was, his back had straightened, his legs sinking into a prepared pose, his mind already summoning his spiritual energy to the forefront in case he needed to defend himself.
Cultivators, flying on swords at speed.
Lan Wangji looked up and saw them: men and women both, a small group – a forward scouting troop, small enough to be subtle and sneak ahead to see what was happening but large enough to ensure someone would be able to return to the main force and warn them if they did find something.
They were dressed in the colors of Yunmeng Jiang, and it was Jiang Cheng leading them.
Lan Wangji’s back stiffened.
He had not seen Jiang Cheng since the massacre at the Nightless City, although he’d heard the stories of how he had turned against his own shixiong and led the greatest of the forces that besieged the Burial Mounds. He’d decided then that he’d never wanted to see Jiang Cheng ever again – he hadn’t been able to comprehend how Jiang Cheng could do a thing like that to Wei Wuxian, who he’d loved.
He still didn’t understand, but he thought, perhaps, that he ought to be a little less hasty in judging others by his own standards.
He’d done enough of that.
“Hanguang-jun!” Jiang Cheng called, seeing him, and pulled ahead of all the other Jiang sect cultivators, leaving them hanging back warily. Lan Wangji turned to face him, conscious of the two young children still clinging to his hands and now half-hiding behind his robes – conscious, too, of the shimmering but translucent barrier that divided them from Jiang Cheng, the barrier that had been raised to protect the Unclean Realm from Lan Wangji’s own brother and all the mistakes he had made, well-meaning as they were. “Hanguang-jun, good, you can tell me, what is the meaning of…”
Jiang Cheng trailed off, his eyes suddenly wide and almost bulging from the force of how hard he was staring at Lan Wangji.
“Jiang Wanyin,” Lan Wangji said politely in greeting – or, well, politely enough.
“Lan Wangji,” Jiang Cheng said in return, his voice sounding strangled. “What…happened?”
Far too much to explain, so Lan Wangji didn’t, just waited for Jiang Cheng to continue with a more specific question.
“I mean, uh. The beacon went off,” Jiang Cheng said. He was still gawking, looking as though he were about to fall off his sword any second. “The – you know the one, the one that shows when a sect’s barrier defenses have been activated. I thought...”
He’d assumed there was an invasion, Lan Wangji realized, and had rushed over at once to try to help forestall it. It was a reasonable assumption, and a noble response: having once lost everything without being able to rely on the help of others, Jiang Cheng now sought to be the help that he had not had.
It was the sort of thing a righteous person would do, and in line with what Lan Wangji thought he’d known of Jiang Cheng’s character.
And yet…Jiang Cheng had still turned his back on Wei Wuxian.
Time and time again, he’d turned away fro him.
“I came to find out what happened, why they put up the shield,” Jiang Cheng continued. “I brought people with me to help, though I left them back a ways so it wouldn’t be an insult. And now I’m here and – and you’re here – and you’re…just…it’s…Lan Wangji, what happened to your forehead ribbon?”
Lan Wangji arched his eyebrows. “Is that your primary concern?”
Jiang Cheng waved his hands around, almost flailing, and Lan Wangji couldn’t quite help but feel a sudden stab of amusement – and then of sorrow, because the flailing was almost painfully familiar. He had seen Wei Wuxian do much the same when he encountered something unexpected, whether some threat or some new maneuver by the Wen sect or, in one notable instance, the unanticipated appearance of a fish in a place where one would not normally expect fish to be.
“I have taken a leave of absence from the Lan sect,” Lan Wangji finally explained, deciding to be magnanimous and take pity on his former comrade in arms. “The Nie sect has permitted me to remain with them while I determine my next course of action. As for the shield, there is no imminent invasion. The situation is – complicated.”
Jiang Cheng huffed. “You don’t say!”
Still, the explanation seemed to help steady him, somewhat, and Lan Wangji observed that Jiang Cheng did not look his best: tired, with circles under his eyes and an unhealthy skin tone. Too much work, too little rest, and probably nightmares…because of what had happened to Wei Wuxian, perhaps? But if so, why had he done it in the first place?
“I cannot let you in,” Lan Wangji added, even though technically he had one of the only remaining guest tokens that still functioned. Jiang Cheng nodded, seemingly having expected that. “I can escort you to the sect leader’s quarters to have your request for admission approved.”
That the person approving the request would probably be Nie Huaisang, Lan Wangji did not say – not so much out of caution, which would probably be justified, but rather out of a completely inexplicable urge to see Jiang Cheng start flailing once again upon finding out.
Was this how Wei Wuxian felt all the time?
Interesting.
He began to walk again, the children at his sides slowly coming out, and Jiang Cheng did him the courtesy of not mentioning how slow and stiff he was, although Lan Wangji thought he remembered enough of Jiang Cheng’s mannerisms to interpret the twisted grimace on his face as he glanced over time and time again as a look of concern.
After a little while in which Lan Wangji walked and Jiang Cheng floated alongside him on his sword, the Jiang sect cultivators lagging behind by a respectable distance, the children getting over their fear to start looking around again, Jiang Cheng finally cleared his throat.
“There’s a medicinal blend of herbs that can counteract the anti-clotting effects of the discipline whip,” he said. Lan Wangji glanced at him: Jiang Cheng was staring forward, not looking at him at all any more. “It makes it heal faster. I can pass the prescription along to the Nie sect’s pharmacists, if you like.”
Jiang Cheng had also been struck by the discipline whip, Lan Wangji suddenly remembered. It had been a matter of deep embarrassment for him during the war, making him reluctant to remove clothing even when they were rancid with blood and poisonous fumes.
“Thank you,” he said, and for some reason the children took that as their cue that Jiang Cheng was actually all right and burst out in a flood of questions.
Lan Jingyi wanted to know how Jiang Cheng’s clothing had gotten to be such a vivid shade of purple, while Lan Sizhui was more curious about his sword and how shiny it was – the concerns of children, unburdened by the memories or concerns of adults. Their questions made Jiang Cheng smile, and Lan Wangji thought briefly of the orphaned Jin Ling, who had been temporarily given to Jiang Cheng’s custody to pick up some of the traditions of his maternal sect. A fancy way of saying that the Jin sect wanted him out of the way for a few years until he was worth teaching their own ways to, but Lan Wangji suspected Jiang Cheng would have taken any excuse at all to remain close to his kin.
“What, now children aren’t too noisy for you?” Jiang Cheng asked Lan Wangji, and for the first time it occurred to Lan Wangji that the tossed out words, broken off and abrupt, might be meant as a friendly tease.
“I am reevaluating my relationship with silence,” he said, and Jiang Cheng smirked, amused.
“I bet you are,” he said. “Nie Huaisang alone would drive a man to distraction…”
Lan Jingyi laughed and clapped and that, and, inspired, Lan Sizhui followed suit.
And then, suddenly, Jiang Cheng frowned.
“A-Yuan,” he said, and Lan Wangji was suddenly cold from head to toe, the chattering of the children suddenly too loud in his ears: he had forgotten that Jiang Cheng had also visited the Burial Mounds. “That’s – that’s A-Yuan, isn’t it?”
“Jiang Wanyin…” Lan Wangji started, his voice sticking in his throat, then trailed off. He did not know what he could say that would work to convince Jiang Cheng that he was wrong when he was right, but neither could he admit to the truth. Even if Nie Mingjue had been kind enough to allow Lan Wangji to come to the Nie sect to stay, and to bring the two children with him, that had been under the premise that they were Lan sect children. If he ever found out that Lan Sizhui had been born surnamed Wen…
Nie Mingjue would not hurt a child, he was too righteous for that. But he might not be inclined to let that child grow up in his sect, either.
Jiang Cheng’s face was twisted in a strange sort of way, as if he couldn’t decide to be angry or relieved. “I thought he’d died,” he murmured, more to himself. “I thought…what is that?”
Lan Wangji was momentarily confused by the question, focused as he was by the terrifying implications of Jiang Cheng’s discovery, but then he saw that Jiang Cheng’s gaze went further into the distance.
He turned to look, then felt twist of unpleasantness deep in his belly: there was his brother in the sky, flying to the main gate on Shuoyue, and beside him was Jin Guangyao.
Why did you have to bring him? Lan Wangji thought, unhappy, but he already knew the answer to that. His brother trusted Jin Guangyao. Why wouldn’t he bring him?
If only he would trust the rest of them as much as he trusted that liar.
“We can discuss Lan Sizhui later,” Lan Wangji said, careful to emphasize both the surname and the courtesy name he’d given him – painfully obvious now that he thought about it, though at the time it had seemed only appropriate, the only name he could bestow that fit – and quickened his steps. “Now that my brother has arrived, things will become difficult.”
He wondered, a little bitterly, if his brother had even noticed that he was gone, or if he had been so thoroughly forgotten in his enforced ‘seclusion’ that it hadn’t even been thought of as a possibility.
“Lan Wangji!”
Lan Wangji came to a stop at Jiang Cheng’s shout. Suddenly full of anger, he turned his head back – surely Jiang Cheng didn’t hate Wei Wuxian so much that he wouldn’t let the matter of a small child go, even in the midst of a crisis?
Jiang Cheng was pointing into the distance. Strangely enough, it was not in the direction of the main gate, where Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao were even now landing, but somewhere even further beyond.
“Do you see it?” Jiang Cheng demanded, and his eyes were suddenly wild, his breathing disordered; he seemed far more disturbed than he had when he’d recognized A-Yuan. “Lan Wangji, tell me that you see it!”
Utterly lost, Lan Wangji focused his gaze on the far horizon. It was the same scenery as he’d seen there the past few days, the interspersed richness of the low valleys that quickly arced up into the mountains that surrounded the Unclean Realm. There was nothing there that was unusual…
Lan Wangji spotted a very faint glimmer.
Sun, he thought, the reflection of sun – sun off steel.
All of a sudden, he wasn’t on the ramparts of the Unclean Realm but standing beside Jiang Cheng on a rough-hewn fortress barely worthy of the name, watching the horizon grimly as the damned Wen scout’s flare did its work and the amassed forces of Wen Chao’s troops began to move inexorably in their direction. They would come, he had known, and they would kill them all if they could; it would take everything they had to stop them, and to survive long enough just to retreat once again.
For some of them to survive.
“Invasion,” he heard someone say, their voice hoarse, and only a moment later realized it was himself who had spoken. “Invasion…it’s an army!”
“It’s the Jin sect,” Jiang Cheng said, staring blankly as if he couldn’t believe what his eyes were telling him. For once, Lan Wangji understood him completely; he was similarly shocked. “They’re wearing gold, you can see it from here…the Jin sect has sent their armies here? How could they even think to dare? Chifeng-zun will annihilate them!”
Lan Wangji’s throat worked, and for a moment he felt drowned in the quiet once more, his voice not wanting to cooperate with him, his entire being willing or even wanting to return to the solace of seclusion if it would only mean that he wouldn’t have to hear the horrible din of war once more. But he was not a coward, and would do what he must – even speak of things that felt impossible to be spoken.
“That complicated situation I mentioned,” he said, and Jiang Cheng turned to look at him. “My brother has either conspired with or was duped into assisting Lianfang-zun in an attempt on Chifeng-zun’s life through destabilizing his qi and inducing a qi deviation.”
Jiang Cheng’s jaw dropped. “They did what?!”
“Chifeng-zuns remains alive, but is confined to his bed,” Lan Wangji continued, ignoring the interjection. “Nie Huaisang was the one who ordered the shield raised, saying that there might be an attack – I thought he was overreacting, but apparently not.”
“If Jin Guangshan can take over the Unclean Realm while Nie Mingjue is incapacitated, he can say that the incapacitation is worse than it really is,” Jiang Cheng said, abruptly getting it. Lan Wangji had forgotten how much he enjoyed working alongside those from Yunmeng Jiang, Wei Wuxian most of all but also in his absence Jiang Cheng, who was smart and did not require too many words to understand. “Everyone knows Nie Huaisang’s a good-for-nothing – it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch for the Jin sect to claim that they came here at the invitation of the Nie sect to ‘rescue’ them, and remained in order to manage the sect on their behalf. Better that than have Chifeng-zun recover and come after you in vengeance!”
Lan Wangji nodded.
“But surely they didn’t think they’d be able to get away with it? Even if they could manage it for a while, as soon as the confusion cleared up, all the other sects would throw a fit…”
“Jin Ling,” Lan Wangji said, and Jiang Cheng blanched, seeming to realize the problem at once. His beloved nephew legally belonged to the Jin sect; if he dared to protest their actions, wouldn’t they be sure to take him away? As for the Lan sect, Lan Xichen would have been implicated through his actions – they could hold his participation over his head, forcing him to pick between supporting them and losing face for the whole sect, which would in turn weaken it. And that was assuming that Jin Guangyao didn’t somehow manage to talk Lan Xichen into thinking it was all for the best regardless…
There were only four Great Sects left, now. If the Lan and Jiang did nothing, who would be left to stand up for the Nie?
“I have to get inside. Nie Huaisang will need my support,” Lan Wangji said, but instead looked down at the children beside him.
“Go,” Lan Sizhui said, releasing his hand and stepping back away from him. “I’ll take Jingyi and hide in the room we’re staying in. You won’t need to worry about us – go, do what you need to!”
Jiang Cheng flinched as if he’d been struck.
Lan Wangji glanced at him. “The Jin sect army,” he said. “However unlikely, there’s still a chance that we are misinterpreting their motives.”
“I’ll go find out what I can,” Jiang Cheng agreed at once. “How many there are, what can be done…I’ll find out and report back.”
Lan Wangji tossed him the guest token he’d been given. “Be cautious,” he said. He still hadn’t forgiven Jiang Cheng for what he’d done in the Burial Mounds, but he was willing to wait until a better time to talk it over with him – now was not the time to try to gain understanding.
Jiang Cheng nodded and left at once, and Lan Wangji saw the children off, then hurried to do the same.
By the time he made it to the main hall, his brother and Jin Guangyao were already there, and Nie Huaisang was confronting them with nothing more than a fan gripped in white-knuckled hands and a glare.
“– dare you talk as if he’s gone mad, as if he can’t be trusted?” Nie Huaisang was shouting. “You should know how seriously we take such words here!”
“It is because of that that we are worried,” Lan Xichen said, and now it was Lan Wangji’s turn to flinch. His brother’s voice sounded just the way it always did, comforting in its familiarity: he sounded calm and patient, thoughtful and wise, sure of himself. He sounded as if he knew better than anyone else what was right and what was wrong. “Huaisang, you don’t know how much your brother has been worried about suffering the way your father did. He knows that qi deviations can be subtle as well as harsh – he understands that his reason might be the first to go –”
“And so you took it upon yourself to decide that for him?” Nie Huaisang sneered. “You keep saying that he understands, that he would understand, all that. But that’s a lie, isn’t it?”
“Huaisang, please,” Jin Guangyao said, his voice just as gentle as always. “You know we only want what’s best for your brother.”
“Do you?” Nie Huaisang said, but he was still looking at Lan Xichen. “You knew he hated the quiet room, er-ge. You knew that he’d never wanted anything to do with it – it’s not like that was anything new! That was something he’d said repeatedly, year after year, month after month, for his entire life. You knew how he felt about it, and you decided to ignore what he wanted in favor of what you wanted. How is that wanting what’s best for him?”
“I was only concerned for his health,” Lan Xichen said, sounding injured by the accusation. “I had nothing but good intentions…”
“Your intentions are immaterial compared to your actions,” Lan Wangji said, and they turned to look at him, both of them surprised – maybe they really hadn’t noticed he’d left the Cloud Recesses.
Well, he thought bitterly: they’d notice now.
He took a step into the room, then another.
“Your actions are this,” he said, ignoring the way his brother stared at his forehead, unadorned by the ribbon that had been there ever since he’d been a small child, receiving it for the first time from his uncle as a precious gift. “You did not trust or respect your elder brother’s word. You disregarded his decision, treating him like a child who can’t be trusted to make up his own mind – you put your own desires ahead of his, and in doing so, betrayed him. Did you really think he’d thank you for it?”
Did you think I’d thank you one day for authorizing our sect’s attack on the Burial Mounds without ever having to explain yourself? Even our uncle respected me enough to tell me at once what he had done and let me decide how I felt about it, accepting the consequences of his actions!
“Wangji,” Lan Xichen murmured. “You’re still healing, you shouldn’t be wandering around…where is your self-restraint?”
Where is your forehead ribbon, he meant, and Lan Wangji shook his head.
“Wangji, you don’t understand,” Jin Guangyao said, and Lan Wangji stiffened at the unasked-for intimacy of the address. “Whatever da-ge said to you, whatever he did, you cannot allow others to guide you by filling your heart with incomplete echoes of what you have lost. You will never forgive yourself.”
Lan Wangji was so furious that he could not speak. Was Jin Guangyao implying that Nie Mingjue had, what, seduced him? That Lan Wangji held his love for Wei Wuxian so cheap that he would have his head turned by the first person willing to make up to him in such a fashion?
“I should hope you know my da-ge better than that, er-ge,” Nie Huaisang said coldly, still speaking only to Lan Xichen. “Or is this something else where you will believe the words of that lying dog over everyone else and the evidence of your own reason to boot?”
“Huaisang, that is unwontedly cruel, and uncalled for,” Lan Xichen said, tearing his eyes away from Lan Wangji. “Whatever Wangji has decided, I do not blame Mingjue-xiong for it.”
Implying, Lan Wangji supposed, that it was Lan Wangji that was to blame for it.
“Put the blame where it belongs,” he said stiffly, staring at his brother as if looking at a stranger. “Was I to leave Chifeng-zun where I found him, half-dead and dying in our jingshi where you left him at Lianfang-zun’s incitement?”
“You think I don’t recognize that I’ve done wrong?” Lan Xichen demanded. “I will speak to Mingjue-xiong and apologize – I will explain my reasoning and let him decide how I can make it up to him. But please, there is no call for you to be cruel to A-Yao. Do not blame him for my mistakes.”
“What about for his lies?” Lan Wangji asked. He took a breath, sharp and unhappy, and suddenly it was desperately, urgently necessary to know the truth. “Brother, tell me you didn’t know. Tell me you weren’t in on it – that you didn’t try to kill Mingjue-xiong in order to cover up your affair.”
“What, kill, you think I would try to…Wangji! Affair?” Lan Xichen exclaimed, and he seemed genuinely shocked. “No, Wangji, you’ve misunderstood entirely! It’s not like that at all. Mingjue-xiong and A-Yao, they were once lovers –”
“No, we weren’t,” Nie Mingjue said.
They all turned at once. He was standing at the door, all but clinging to the doorframe to keep himself standing; he was swathed in bandages and still stuck with needles. None of them had heard him or seen him approach – he must have heard them shouting and dragged himself over.
He sounded tired. He sounded quiet.
He looked at Lan Xichen.
“I was never Meng Yao’s lover,” he said. “Not now, not before, not ever. And Xichen…you knew that, didn’t you?”
#mdzs#lan wangji#lan sizhui#lan jingyi#jiang cheng#lan xichen#jin guangyao#nie huaisang#nie mingjue#my fic#my fics#the quiet room#you may want to reread previous chapters to get caught up
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Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) - Jungkook
Summary: You miss him so much, but it seems like getting to spend time with Jungkook is going to take a Christmas miracle.
Ao3 Link: here
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader, side Namgi
Length: 17.6k
Rating: Mature
Genre: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort
Warnings: Suspicions of cheating, misunderstandings, panic attack, suggestive content, swearing
A/N: Oooof I am finally done my Secret Santa fic for @thebtswritersclub and only - *checks calendar* - too late. So sorry this is so late @jjeongukkie! It got so much longer than I had planned, and while I had a lot of fun writing it, I did not plan it quite well enough to finish in a timely fashion. Still, I hope you’re able to enjoy a last blast of Christmas vibes and fluff and angst as you slide into 2021! Thank you for your patience, and I hope you have an awesome new year!
I always appreciate all likes, reblogs and comments! If you enjoy reading this, send me an ask! Happy belated New Year to everyone!
---
“You’re not coming home now?”
Even as you say it, you’re vaguely surprised you manage to get the words out. Your lips are numb with shock and disappointment, and Jungkook’s wince on the screen of your phone just makes the feeling even more jarring. More painful.
“I’m sorry,” he says, half pleading and half desperate. “It’s just, this project is so important, and we need to have it ready for rollout…”
Throat tight, the fingers of your free hand pushing into your thigh, you adjust the phone with your other before saying thickly, “You said it would be a few hours in the morning, Jungkook. It’s – it’s Christmas."
"I know, I know, I just..."
He’s still speaking, quick and anxious words about necessity and pressure, and while you’re listening, you’re thinking about the cute lingerie sitting next to you on the bed. You'd been planning a little gift for him when he got home, and when he'd surprised you with a Facetime request, you'd pulled them out of the drawer, thinking it might be a fun little tease to give him a flash of the red and black set. Now, though...
"Hey, Y/N, I'm sorry. Really." Biting at his lip, Jungkook somehow manages to look a bit pitiful, even with the dress shirt he's wearing, ironed to sharp definition. The collar of the black shirt is open, sans a tie – he’d mentioned this morning no one cared about perfect business attire while working over Christmas – and the bare curve of his collarbone just adds to the disjointed clash of his clean outfit compared to his dejected expression.
The look has your throat closing even more, and you try to force a smile. You're well aware of how stressful the new position has been for your long time boyfriend, seen the casualties of the job; late night arrivals at the apartment, distracted eyes while making and eating dinner, forehead creased with frustration every time his phone vibrates, fatigue that throws him into sleep before you and he have really even had any time to talk together. He's also been hitting the gym almost religiously lately, another outlet for stress, and while you love Jungkook's enthusiasm for staying active, two sessions a day, every day, is excessive for him. It also eats into what little opportunity is left for you two to spend time with each other.
But he's doing his best. You know that. You're sure of it. And he promised it would get better, soon.
Soon. So, you swallow the disappointment, and the thing that’s more dangerous, simmering below it and too perilously close to anger. You hitch on a smile, and hope it doesn't look quite as forced as it feels. "I get it, Kookie. I'm just sorry you have to work for so long. Will you be back in time for dinner?"
He hesitates, teeth still sawing into his lower lip as he jiggles his head indecisively and the camera frame shifts a bit. "I'm not sure but – probably?" Your expression must sink just as much as your stomach does, despite your best efforts, because Jungkook immediately grimaces, his hands making desperate little waves of abortive denial. "I mean, I will. For sure. I'll be home, okay?"
When he flashes a thumbs up, deliberately and extravagantly enthusiastic, you can't help but smile, just a tentative lift of your lips. "Just – I love you, Kookie. I hope we get to spend some of Christmas together."
"We will! Promise." Both hands are up now, clenched into eager fists under his chin, and he really couldn't look more earnest if he tried.
The smile comes a bit easier now, and you nod, feeling some of that enthusiasm reaching through the screen. "Okay." Taking a deep breath, you try to redirect the conversation, too painfully aware that sulking isn't going to help at all. "Have you eaten lunch yet? Don't miss it just for your stupid boss!"
His grin is a small, toothy thing. "Nah, I haven't. I –"
"Jungkook!"
"I was saving room for when I got home!"
"Hah! You think there's going to be food on the table for you?" This bickering is so much easier than anything else that you might say, and you fall into it with something like relief.
His eyebrows fall, nose scrunching dramatically. "On the table? Y/N, that's so unsanitary."
"So unsanitary...?"
At your puzzled look, the grossed out expression whirls away, replaced with a smirk that's so abruptly suggestive that you find your breath catching. The way his voice drops, becoming a low hum, just concentrates the effect. "I was saving room for you, of course. But I'm not gonna eat you out on the table, baby."
You huff in scornful incredulity, but it can't take back the fact that you almost choked a second ago. It also doesn't really hide the way your cheeks have heated up into a patchy red, and besides, Jungkook knows you too well. If anything, his smirk just gets even sharper, and he adds playfully, "Unless you have it on your wish list. Then I might consider it."
Fucking around with Jungkook on any surface is absolutely on your wish list, but you're too proud and currently too annoyed to tell him that. "With my luck, it would break trying to hold up your inflated ego."
"My inflated muscles, you mean," he says, and flexes. Which is just so obnoxious, and also the long sleeve hides his arms too well to be truly impressive.
"Do that again when you get home," you order imperiously, and immediately he bows his head.
"You got it, boss," he agrees, and it's that easy, sudden switch, that flexibility, that's at least part of the reason you love him so much. Jungkook is what you need him to be; he's always been comfortable with that role, and your flighty ass needs him in so many different ways. He's never failed you in that respect. Well – not much. You need him with you right now, after all.
Want, you remind yourself sternly. You want him, that's all.
Abruptly he stiffens, turns slightly. You hear someone speaking off camera, high and strained, and Jungkook replies in a confident voice, talking about something you don't have enough information on to fully understand. They have a short conversation before Jungkook says, "I'll be over in a moment, okay?"
Then he's turning back to you, the by now familiar crease back between his eyes. "I've got to go now, Y/N. I'll get out of here as quickly as I can, okay?"
"Okay. Love you, Kookie. And try to eat something."
He nods, curter now, already turning away from the camera. "See you soon."
And you're left with a call ended screen and no reciprocal "love you". The flicker of warmth that had been blooming in your stomach wilts until there's nothing but a cold tightness left. For a few minutes you scroll aimlessly through your apps and messages, fingers restless for something the phone can't give. There are too many Merry Christmas posts, too many pics of friends and family having a good time together with gifts and food, and it grows the hurt in your gut. You and Jungkook had decided not to travel to any of your families' gatherings, to save some money this year after a big and expensive move, but that had been with the assumption that you would be able to take comfort in each other. Now...
Before too long, you give up, toss the phone aside. It lands next to the lingerie, and for the time being you leave them both alone, suddenly anxious to get away from the remote device and the painful reminder both. Your apartment isn't large, and it only takes you a few steps to leave the bedroom and head to the kitchen. You spend several moments milling around there, but you've already prepped everything for dinner tonight; the only thing left to do is the dishes from this morning's simple breakfast, eaten long after Jungkook had already bolted his and left. You clean them with desultory effort, trying not to remember that you and your boyfriend had planned to make something fancy together. The restless feeling doesn't leave with the dishes done, and you check, doublecheck and triplecheck everything before you're even halfway to feeling like this part of the apartment might not need anything else.
The living room, attached to the kitchen, has been decorated with reckless abandon. You've got at least an ounce of beauty aesthetic in your bones, and so does Jungkook, but for some reason when put together it equals a pound of ugly. The tinsel – red, gold, silver, and green – is flung about the room over pretty much any surface that will support it, along with red and green lights. The Christmas decorations are a hideous mash up of whatever you and Kookie have scrounged together from your families or garage sales or cheap outlet malls, plus a few modest clay additions of your own making. Several of the larger succulents and other plants are bowed morosely under the weight of ambitious ornaments, and the cactus on the windowsill looks positively garish with a star perched jauntily on its crown.
And you love it all so much.
Remembering the absolutely wild hour or so that you and Jungkook spent together decorating the apartment – such a rare and precious moment, since you moved here – makes your eyes start prickling with unbidden tears. Jungkook's staggering workload hadn't been so bad, while you were working; acting as a long distance design consultant for a large collection of homegrown companies tended to keep you busy, and you hadn't noticed his absence in a way that demanded you address it. Now, though, with Christmas an enforced break, since none of your suppliers or other contacts will reply to emails, your loneliness curls itself up in your chest, all barbs and agitation. You’re beginning to suspect that maybe the long absences have hurt you more than you thought.
One of your projects is on the coffee table, the spread of files and print outs of possible designs covering the worn surface. You've always preferred working with physical copies for the initial stages, moving to a tablet for more detailed work. You fling yourself onto the couch, telling yourself you might as well do something productive and hoping it might provide a distraction. That lasts for about half an hour, but it's a constant fight to keep your thoughts on the papers in front of you. The unhappiness is curdling your concentration, and more and more you're aware of a simmering resentment, sharp and insistent under your sadness.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. There'd been so little conflict about moving when Jungkook got the job offer. You were already working remotely, and while the pay increase at Jungkook's new company wasn't that much, it was the promise of what could come that made it nearly impossible to turn down. Saying goodbye to your family hadn't been an issue; you were already living in a different city than them, settled there after university. It had been harder for your boyfriend, but not impossible, and despite both of you leaving friends behind, you'd left with excitement. Hope. The future opening up before you two, together.
With a sigh, you shove the papers away. Leave the living room and take shelter on your bed. Send and reply to some Christmas messages. Make a face at the snap Jin sends you, a little blurry, his flushed cheeks matching the red reindeer antler headband he's wearing. He's holding the gifts you sent several weeks ago, an adorable pair of windup salt and pepper shakers shaped like teddy bears that can walk across the table, along with a few duck-shaped strainers. The caption makes you snort. I'm bearly making it without you, sis. I'm like a duck out of water. The next snap is clearer, of him and his two roommates, Jimin and Hoseok, all making heart signs. Thanks for the gifts! Hope you have a Merry Christmas!
He's in the same city as your parents, and you know he spent yesterday with them. Looks like he's having a great time with his roommates, too. Before the affection can sour, you save the photo and put your phone down again.
Kitchen, living room, bedroom. A discontented circuit you don't know how to break yourself out of. It feels so dumb to be making yourself even more miserable like this. You should phone one of the few friends who aren't with their families, or maybe your parents – hell, you could even phone Jin, he and his roommates would be sure to talk with you for an hour or two. But the thought of admitting you're alone, Jungkook having chosen work over spending the holiday with you, has your shame rising to scalding levels. The mere prospect of hearing and seeing everyone happy while you’re alone is another hurt, one that makes you curl up more tightly on the bed, clutching his pillow to your chest like it could fill up the hollowness settled in your lungs. Just like all of the sheets, it has his scent, light and flowery and soft, and it inspires an aching, cloying feeling that isn't really close enough to comfort, but you hold it tighter anyways.
The day drags on like that, swamps of self-pity drained by bursts of frantic activity. You clean up a bit more, work on a project, watch some TV. And then the rush of drowning loneliness fills up your lungs again and you're reduced to more aimless pining.
By three, with no texts from Jungkook and the need to start cooking soon looming large on the horizon, you send him a message. Hey. Gonna be home soon?
About half an hour later, you add a ? that still gets no immediate reply, and agitated tension has you wondering if you should call him. But what if you interrupt something? Get him in trouble? Worrying the thoughts ragged in your head, you resolve to give it just a little more time. Hell, for all you know, maybe he’s on his way home now.
At around four, your phone starts vibrating. Not a Facetime request, this time, but the name that pops up is welcome all the same. You answer almost breathlessly. "Hey Kookie!"
"Hey Y/N."
Right away you know this isn't the kind of phone call you were hoping for. Jungkook's voice is gravelly and tired, more like a bruise than a sound. Your shoulders slump, and you can't find it in yourself to say anything.
Your boyfriend tentatively breaks the silence a moment later. "Y/N, I'm sorry. Things are spilling over and I'm not going to be able to leave for awhile longer."
"..."
"Y/N? Are you -"
"How much longer?"
You can practically hear the wince. "I'm not sure yet."
"Jungkook..." But once again, the words catch in your throat, trapped by just how ungrateful and immature you feel.
"Look, Y/N, I was thinking. Maybe, if I come home too late, we can move dinner to tomorrow? I'm definitely going to be home all day, so we can have a nice breakfast and dinner and maybe open our presents and..." There's nothing in the quiet between you two. Certainly not your agreement. "I know I messed up and that this isn't fair to you, Y/N, and I'm sorry. Maybe – couldn't we just... reset? Start Christmas for real tomorrow?"
"Reset?" you repeat. "Like – what, like one of your video games?" The swampy depression is bubbling now, surging with the outrage that's been building all day.
"No, that's not -"
"We can't just reset, Jungkook. This isn't a level you get to just do over!"
"I know that, that isn't what I meant, you're -"
"I've been waiting here all day, Jungkook! By myself! Just waiting here for you! Do you get how bad that makes me feel?"
Jungkook sounds choked when he replies, though it's hard to tell if it's from guilt or anger. "I know I've made you wait, and I'm sorry. But the project -"
"I don't care about the fucking project! You should have told them to fuck off when they asked you to work!" You're full on shouting now, eyes stinging with tears, the sound tearing from your throat. "This has been the worst Christmas I've ever had, and you just want me to forget about it?"
His voice doesn't get louder. If anything, it gets quieter, smaller, coiling in on itself into a tight mass. "Do you think I'm having a good time? I've been working since 8:00 on Christmas day! It's not like I asked to come in, and they barely gave me a choice! I'm the junior here, do you think they would have been okay with me shrugging today off?"
"Today? Today?" Your laugh sounds too cruel, even to your own ears. "It hasn't just been today, Jungkook! This is just – more of the same! More ditching me – ditching us – for work. For some stupid reason I thought that you might consider Christmas an important enough day to knock it off for just one fucking second. But I guess not."
"I'm doing this for us! For – I told you how much work it was going to be! I thought you'd be okay with it!"
"And I thought there might be a tiny little exception made for Christmas. I guess we were both wrong!" you spit furiously.
There's a pause, heavy with the sound of both of your staggered breathing. You're too angry to regret what you've said – or at least, to acknowledge how much you regret it – and the bewildered hurt is travelling straight to your head, leaving you dazed and disconnected. Could Jungkook really have thought you were okay with what's been happening? Okay with being left alone for what feels like months now? How can you be listening to his tense exhales and still not understand the person on the other end of this call?
"I'm sorry, Y/N." Too polite, too gentle by far. Where the hell did he get off sounding like that? You know that's Jungkook – that he's far more likely to shutdown during an argument, to close off – but it leaves you clashing against air. No opposing force to clamp down on your own anger.
Heaving in a sharp exhale, shaking your head even though he can't see it, you say, "Do what you want, Jungkook. I'm not making the dinner if you're not leaving right now."
"Y/N..."
"Merry Christmas." You hang up.
It feels horrible. The phone is a dead weight in your hand, the anger an even heavier weight in your heart. You make a fractured noise, a frustrated scream that quickly trails into a barely checked sob. If you felt bad before talking to Jungkook, it's nothing compared to the mix of self-recriminations and resentment assaulting you now. He was just - why did he have to - why couldn't he -
Why did I have to say that to him?
You know Jungkook. How hard working he is, how dedicated, how keenly he wants to do well in front of and for others. He isn't working late because he doesn't want to see you; you're sure of that. It's just an inability to say no to his superiors. And... and you really haven't told him how unhappy you are with how often he's away.
But still. Couldn't he figure it out? Did you need to spell out your misery for him to get it? Is that really what your relationship amounts to?
Another aggravated exhale parts your lips, and you start pacing faster, needing the release. The next few hours stretch in front of you with wretched promise. What do you do now? Just wait by yourself until he gets home? Have to see his ashamed, hurt, averted eyes, the way he would creep into the apartment with a shield set between you and him? And then what? Go to bed with that block between you two, wake up and somehow try to pretend it doesn't exist tomorrow?
The tears flow down your cheeks despite your hands’ furious attempts to press them away and there's no way to stop them once they've begun. You cry, the way people often cry when they’re lonely, like silence is their only companion and they're afraid of scaring even that friend away. Quietly, then, no longer trying to hold the tears back but unable to give voice to the magnitude of your pain, either. The wet, soft sobbing quickly sends you back to bed, where you curl up once again, struggling for some kind of self-control.
God, you just miss him so much. Not today, not now, not – it's a void of the little things. The snicker when you berate him for being messy. His warm, gentle hands on your neck after a day hunched over a project, massaging out the pain. A little giggle as you watch a Ghibli film together. The shoving matches when you're out shopping and competing for who can get the most stuff on the list. The quick kisses and the slow kisses and the deep, hungry kisses that always lead to you waking up in his arms the next day, far later into the morning than usual.
You miss him so much, and you just pushed him away even more.
With a muffled sob you push your face further into the pillow, hating how pitiful this is, how much you're struggling to get your emotions under control. This is so – it's ridiculous, that's what it is. Childish. It's not as if you've lost Jungkook forever, and you haven't lost all of the things you love about him, either. It's not like you never goof off anymore, or cuddle, or talk. It's just – it's just that everything has been so much more frantic, hurried, and stressful since the move. It seems like there's never a moment where you can just sit together and love each other and think of nothing else.
The anger, remorse and dejection feed off each other, first growing and prolonging the wrenching feeling choking your throat, and you cry until time doesn’t mean much anymore. The grief is so horribly thick it’s like you can’t even breathe through it, let alone do anything but lie in bed. It goes on and on and – and then exhaustion overtakes your convulsive crying. Eventually, without ever actually being filled, the hollow ache contracts into a hard pit, the tears all forced out. Nothing else, though. The guilt and resentment and sadness are still there, dulled to a grey, insubstantial mass.
But at least you can think a bit. Listlessly, with all the colours drained out of it, but you can do more than sob. Wiping at your clogged nose and tear-streaked face, you find you can actually breathe, something of an improvement. You sit up, gently set the pillow back on Jungkook's side of the bed, giving the soft material one last swipe, trying to rid it of the wet evidence of your meltdown. No luck there, but it'll probably be dry before your boyfriend gets home.
If he gets home.
The bitterness of that thought is too tired to summon more tears from the hole in your heart or your head. You shake it away, more because you're just too drained to cling to the heavy emotion than because of some angelic impulse to forgive.
You know you have to do something. Anything. Literally anything will be better than just sitting here, waiting for Jungkook to come in, getting pricklier with each passing minute. With the Christmas dinner off the table, you suppose you could just pick up something to eat. Fast-food or something... have it ready for him to heat up when he was done work... like you're some trophy girlfriend.
Once again you need to stop yourself, biting back the wave of resentment. God, this isn't doing you any good, and it's so, so unfair to Jungkook. Yeah, maybe he shouldn't have agreed to work on Christmas. Maybe he should have been more sensitive to how far you've been drifting apart because of his long work hours. But at the same time, yelling at him over the phone wasn't the answer, either. He's probably having as bad of a time as you are, and with no private room to cry in, either. He'll be totally repressing the argument now, shoving it into a locker and subconsciously telling himself he's to blame, that he's a horrible boyfriend. Trying to listen to his coworkers and do his work with those harsh criticisms running low and dark through his head. That's how Jungkook is. He takes everything onto himself, especially if you give it to him.
Running your hands through your hair at the thought, pity clenching your chest, you abruptly get up. You and Jungkook definitely need to talk, and soon. But – but there's no reason to close out this shitty day with an even more horrible evening of strained silence and brittle rebuttals. Neither of you are particularly good at apologizing, even though you're both great at feeling guilty. You just don't have the words for it. So, unless you do something – make some gesture – this is just going to stretch into an awful, prolonged fight that isn't a fight at all, both of you retreating from each other.
It's unbearable. You can't stand it. So… you're going to do something about it.
Resolved, as resolved as you can be, you change out of your PJs. The weather's been quite warm, with no snow to speak of, so it's not like you need to bundle up much. After a moment of hesitation, you choose to snag the ugly Christmas sweater. It's got a comically drawn pink bunny on the front, absurdly muscular, with a red Santa hat settled firmly between its ears, and a myriad of red and green patterns crammed into the background. It was the rabbit's expression and the accompanying phrase that had got Jungkook to laughing until he was doubled over when he'd seen it at the mall last year. A challenging, almost intimidating grin is plastered on the rabbit's face, with the words This Bun Don't Want None in cheerfully bedazzled white underneath. Your boyfriend had quite literally begged to get two and wear them to the upcoming Christmas party, and he'd been too imploring for you to say no.
Slipping it on, with the accompanying memory of his hysterical amusement, crinkled nose, and bunny grin every time he caught a glimpse of you at the party, is the closest you've felt to peace in the last few hours.
You throw on some dark jeans and apply your makeup with a thoroughness that's a little much, given that you're not going anywhere for long. You don't care; it feels good to dim the red-rimmed eyes and splotchy cheeks your breakdown has gifted you, to cover it over with something prettier. Finishing with the last of the mascara, you grab your transit pass and head out, closing the door behind you with a finality that could almost be a goodbye.
The air outside is cool, a relief compared to the stuffy apartment, at least for now. You inhale deeply, the mild cold burning your sinuses and clearing your clogged head a bit. In a while, you might regret not having a warmer layer on, but for now it’s a relief to begin to walk, to stretch both your legs and your mind from the cramped defensiveness the apartment had been inspiring. This is – this is a good idea. You’re positive about it now, and can feel your shoulders loosening, steps becoming brisker.
If Jungkook can’t come to you – well, you’ll just go to him. At least for now.
Your building isn't too far from Jungkook's work; you only have a short train ride and a shorter bus ahead of you, according to your phone. You’ve been to his work three times before, but always in your shared car, and you walk with eyes fixed on your screen, calculating the time schedules. Part of you wants to text him, send a little olive branch to smooth the way and let him know you’re coming, but a larger part longs for something romantic and cute to happen today. Fast-food might not quite cut it, but surely a surprise visit might? You won’t stay long, won’t interrupt his work, but just to see his face, confused and then quietly grateful and loudly gleeful when he realizes why you’ve come –
It seems like that shouldn’t be too much to ask.
The trip flies by; you're too anxious in your own head to notice much outside of it, and besides, there aren't many people out and about today. Probably busy celebrating with their families.
You bite your lip at the thought, and violently yank your attention away.
At this rate, you should sign up for a game of Olympic tag. Surely nothing can run as agilely as you've been doing, avoiding every uncomfortable idea.
Jungkook's work is downtown, and there are tons of fast-food options nearby. You pick a smaller chain, KTown Fried Chicken, that both you and Jungkook enjoy. It's hard to convince yourself the cashier isn't judging you at least a little bit for your weird presence on Christmas night. Or maybe she's just eyeing the sweater. That’s another possibility.
With only one other person in line, the food comes quickly, and then you're on your way. Somewhere between stepping off the bus and smiling awkwardly at the girl behind the counter, it occurred to you that you didn't know when Jungkook was actually leaving work. He obviously didn't pack up right away after your argument – he would have made it home before you left – but that doesn't mean he isn't going to be heading home some time soon.
What if you show up and he's not there? What if he shows up and you're not there? What would he think? It is entirely too much to ask your wrung out brain to decide if it would be hilarious, infuriating, or some kind of karmic justice, but you do know that you'd rather just catch him at work with this peace offering. Much simpler that way, so you hurry your steps, snugging your sweater a little tighter around your frame as you do so.
You make it to the imposing office building of Projeck at around six, which is, as it happens, when two of Jungkook’s coworkers are leaving the building. Jungkook talks about them quite a bit – actually, gushes might be a better word – and you’d met them at the office Christmas party a couple of weeks ago. Namjoon, a tall, elegant man with blonde hair currently dressed in a black turtleneck, is one of the lead game designers, and he holds the door open for Yoongi, an audio engineer. The older of the two, in an oversized, comfy hoodie markedly at odds with his companion’s attire, slouches through with a tired smile of thanks.
Both had made a good impression on you at the party (it helped that they were obviously fond of Jungkook and appreciative of his talents) and you’re a little relieved to see them. Solved the awkwardness of trying to get into the building without letting Jungkook know you were here. Both pause at the sight of you, confusion creasing their features, before a grin flashes across Namjoon’s face.
“Hey, Y/N! Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas,” offers Yoongi as well, shoving his hands into the pockets of the hoodie he’s wearing. His eyes are on your chest, a little furrow across his brow, and it takes you a second to realize it’s the bunny again. After a moment his lips quirk, quiet amusement in the expression, and it makes it easier for you to reply brightly.
“Hey Namjoon, Yoongi. Merry Christmas! Are you heading home?” The prospect makes you a little excited. If they’re leaving, surely Jungkook won’t be far behind?
“Yup,” Namjoon agrees easily. His head tilts a little, scouring over you quizzically, before his gaze finds the bag in your hand. “Are you bringing something for Kookie?”
“Yeah… He, uh, was working so late I thought it might be nice to surprise him with some food.” You say it more like a confession, shoulders tight with the knowledge that this is making you sound way better than you actually are.
Namjoon whistles, eyes widening. “Wow, that’s really nice of you.”
“I mean, I haven’t done much today so –”
“He’s not here.” Yoongi states it so bluntly that it takes you a second to process what he said.
“…not here?” you ask, dismayed.
“Nah.” As your stunned eyes fall on him, giving him your full attention, he shrugs uncomfortably. “I’m sorry. He left like… twenty minutes ago?”
“He did?” Namjoon demands, and Yoongi just shrugs again.
Clutching at the paper bag that suddenly feels pathetic and cheap, a stupid idea, you say weakly, “Oh.” You don’t know what else to say, and both of the men’s expressions are soft with a sympathy that doesn’t make you feel any less stupid. “I guess… I’ll go home, then.”
Shifting again, a movement that has him brushing briefly against Namjoon, Yoongi trails a hand up to his ear. “Uh, I don’t think he was going home? Or at least, not right away?”
"What do you mean?" Maybe he'd mentioned he was stopping to pick up dinner, too? Maybe the fast-food you're lugging around is even more useless than you'd thought? Why hadn't you texted him? Why hadn't you -
"He was asking me about the fastest way to get to, uh, the Golden Closet Gallery. I think he was dropping by there first."
"Did - did he say why?"
"Meeting someone? Maybe? I dunno, he's been quiet almost all day, and he rushed away pretty quick."
You stare at him, tired and confused and more than a little guilty at the mention of Jungkook’s withdrawn state. What are you supposed to make of all this? You know about the Golden Closet Gallery – of course you do. You and he went a couple times, early on after your move here, both of you taking a lot of enjoyment from the art displays. But – it couldn't be open now, could it? And even if it were, why would he be going? Who could he possibly be meeting? Was he trying to take a late tour to calm down? Something else entirely? And – it didn't even matter. It wasn't as though you could reach him in a timely manner.
You were just going to have to go back home, and – you weren’t sure. Certainly not eat. The thought of trying to swallow any food right now, with your stomach tearing itself into pieces of shivering disappointment, is too much. Maybe Jungkook would already be at the apartment by the time you got there. Maybe you two could just – sit together. Just be together.
You’re not sure what’s sadder; how much happiness that simple picture gives you, or how sad you are that it makes you happy.
Trying to straighten your crumpled expression, you smile. "Well – thank you for letting me know. Guess I get all of this for myself." Your laugh as you heft the fast-food bag is a small and lost thing. "Sorry to keep you guys. I hope you have a good night!"
You've just begun to turn away, aching to end the conversation before you start bawling in front of these two men, when Namjoon clears his throat, his gaze shifting to Yoongi for a moment. The other man jerks a shoulder, bobs his head, and Namjoon looks back at you. You shuffle a little, desperate to be away but not wanting to be rude to two of the few people at this company who actually seem to be lessening Jungkook's stress.
"Did you take the bus to get here? We could give you a ride if you wanted."
Your throat tightens, and you're already shaking your head before you've even thoroughly processed the offer. "No, thanks, I don't want to take you out of your way."
"Well, if you wanted to drop by the Gallery and see if Kookie is there, it wouldn't be out of our way at all. We live pretty close by." Yoongi nods in agreement, his round face scrunching reassuringly with something that's not – quite – a smile.
When you waver, Namjoon says with studied nonchalance, "Even if he's not there, Yoongi and I don't have any plans for tonight. We don't mind dropping you off."
Still, the thought of inconveniencing them because of your stupid planning – not to mention that you don't know them that well – makes awkward turmoil roil in your stomach. Reading your reluctant expression and apparently hesitant to press you, Namjoon relents. “Well, if you’re sure…”
“Y/N. Come on. We’ll save you a lot of time, and I’m sure Jungkookie would be mad if we didn’t give you the ride. He already throws stuff at me when he thinks I’m not looking; I don’t want him to start chucking shit that actually hurts.” Yoongi’s eyebrow is lifted, an inviting gesture accompanied by a smile with just a hint of gums, and you can’t help but respond, a rueful chuckle that slips out at the picture his comment puts in your head.
Jungkook had mentioned there were a few people he liked to mess around with at work, but somehow it hadn’t crossed your mind that the quiet and slightly intimidating man would be one of his targets.
It decides you.
With a sharp dip of your head, you assent. "Okay, okay. Yeah, sure, and thank you guys. It means a lot to me, and, umm, if you need gas money or something..."
Namjoon throws back his head and utters a loud, barking laugh while Yoongi chuckles. "The company doesn't pay us enough, sure, but I think we can afford to cover this trip, Y/N. Besides, Jungkook's been working overtime so often, I feel like we practically owe you for stealing him so much."
That leaves a sour taste in your mouth that you're quick to swallow. Grinning weakly, you follow the two to their car, a compact grey Honda that's seen better days. Namjoon tries to insist you take shotgun next to Yoongi, but you're far too flustered at the thought of taking his spot and practically dive into the backseat. The first few minutes are a little strained, the fast-food bag on your lap rustling every time you move. Namjoon shuffles through a bunch of Christmas songs on his phone and Yoongi hums to them under his breath, seemingly unperturbed every time his companion switches mid-note.
Eventually, though, Namjoon finds a song he likes enough to leave on, and you find yourself drawn into a relaxed talk with them. Yoongi throws in a comment here and there, and together the two of them are so – easy. They add teasing remarks about each other without pausing for breath, Yoongi praises an arching plotline Namjoon had finished storyboarding today, and when a particularly loud Christmas jangle comes on, Namjoon's already changing it before Yoongi has time to huff in displeasure. You know they're roommates – more than that Jungkook hasn't said – and there's something uplifting about listening to their comfortable conversation.
They don't leave you out of it, either. You talk about your home city. You talk about how you met Jungkook in university, when you both arrived late to a morning Intro to Computer Animation course and were locked out of the classroom as a result. (You'd whispered furiously at each other about who should knock first until another hectic student had come charging up, bleary with sleep, and literally ran into the door when it failed to open. That had pretty much dissolved the tension between you two.) On a wave of laughter from that story, you tentatively ask how the job has been for Jungkook so far.
He's always so keen to hide his stress, so anxious not to talk about it and burden you. It seems like these two coworkers might be a good way to get a better picture, rather than the stitched together portrait you've gotten from the late nights and short, hesitant answers he gives you. At the thought, you pull out your phone to see if he’s sent you anything, but you have no texts.
The laughter dwindles, and you hear Yoongi rattling the spit in his mouth loudly enough to be heard over the music as he makes a lane change. In the other seat, Namjoon runs a hand through his blonde hair. Their silence immediately winds you up, and your hand, holding the phone, falls to the side. Had Jungkook not been telling you something? Was it worse than the late hours? Was –
"This isn't a great company," Yoongi states flatly, when it becomes obvious Namjoon is still groping for something more tactful to say. "They make you feel like you owe them your finger bones just because they pay a bit above average, and if those aren't showing from hitting the keyboards enough, you're some kind of failure."
"Yeah..." Namjoon sighs. "They tried that with me, but Yoongi's been there for several years, he's the best they've got in the audio department, and he made it clear that if I left, he would too. So they pulled back a little. Jungkook, though..."
"He doesn't say no. I've told him to – told him I'll throw in for him – but he's really afraid he's gonna get tossed. Can't blame him. People get fired too easily at Projeck." His voice is disinterested, but Yoongi makes another lane change, too abruptly this time, and that, plus his tight grip on the steering wheel, is a hint that he’s not quite as untouched as he sounds.
You press your back into the seat, trying to give yourself a semblance of a spine as your whole body threatens to fold. You'd had an inkling that Jungkook was maybe conceding too easily to upper management, but it sounds like he's having way more than a little pressure to work late put on him. This – actually this sounds toxic. Crippling. And Jungkook hadn't said anything about it.
And you barely asked.
Gnawing on your cheek, you lapse into silence, struggling for something to say.
Namjoon looks back, brows pulling together at whatever he sees on your face. "He's trying to get ahead of his workload, Y/N," he says gently. "I know after today he doesn't plan on going in until after New Years. He said he really wants to spend time with you."
"He was literally moping all over the office today," Yoongi adds. "Was surprised he didn't break his computer screen, he was sighing on it so much."
They're trying to make you feel better, reassure you that Jungkook had missed you and hated being separated on today of all days. They are accomplishing the exact opposite of what they intend, but that's not their fault. After all, they don't know what you'd said to Jungkook over the phone. Part of you wonders if they'd even have been willing to give you a ride if they did know. You're pretty sure you wouldn't have been if you were them.
You might also have tried to run yourself over on the way out of the parking lot, if you were them.
Before you can pull anything resembling words from the mire of rabid guilt curdling in your throat, the car pulls into the Gallery's small parking lot. It's almost surprising to find that there are two other vehicles already parked, and with the way the night is going, it's even more surprising that you recognize one of them as Jungkook's.
"He's here!" you cry out, relief and something heavier saturating your voice.
With a pleased exclamation, Namjoon gestures excitedly, smashing his hand into the roof of the car with a loud thud in the process.
"If you fucking dent my car..." Yoongi begins, but their mild bickering slips by you.
Your eyes are straining for some sign of Jungkook. The parking lot is empty of people, and the big sign above the building isn't lit up. However, it looks like there are some lights on in the Gallery, spilling out into the dimly lit lot, and as you fix your anxious gaze on the interior through the wide glass windows, you think you see the dim form of at least one person moving inside.
He’s here. You’re literally lightheaded with the joy of that certainty. This day has stretched out with excruciating discord, but now, everything is drawing tighter, shorter, focusing into a promise of reprieve. Finally, finally, something’s going right. The blissful expectation of getting to see Jungkook is almost enough for you to forget about everything else. For this moment, you think you’d forego everything Christmas – the gifts, the dinner, the decorations, everything – just to press your face against his chest and feel him holding you.
Hand on the door handle, you keep yourself from leaping out and dashing to the building only with difficulty. “Thank you so much for driving me. I almost can’t believe we caught him.”
“It’s Christmas, isn’t it?” Namjoon replies. “Escaping from Projeck before eight was our miracle – looks like this gets to be yours.”
The three of you chuckle at that, and then you’re opening the door. “I’ll let Jungkook know you helped me. Maybe he’ll stop throwing things.”
“And maybe Santa exists,” Yoongi grumbles, but there’s no annoyance in his rasping voice. “’Sides, that’s not what I want from him. Tell him to think about what we’ve said, ‘kay?”
Assuming he means saying no to the boss more, you nod, emotional with how lucky both you and Jungkook are to have run into such kind people. ‘Thank you’ doesn’t really cover the gratitude their thoughtfulness has inspired in you, and on top of everything else you’ve been through today, it’s almost enough to set you to crying again.
Namjoon seems to sense you’re at a loss for words; at any rate, he fills in the space. “If things change for the better in the new year, we’ll see more of you, Y/N. In the meantime, take care! I hope you and Jungkook have a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!”
Your voice comes out husky with gratitude. “Thank you. Thank you. I – Hope you both have a Merry Christmas, too! And a Happy New Year!”
Then you’re out of the car, shutting the door carefully behind you, your jaw tight to keep back the ridiculous tears. Yoongi and Namjoon wave, you wave back, and then Yoongi pulls away, leaving you standing and waving in the parking lot until the car turns and is gone. You take a couple of deep breaths, a smile easing the urge to cry. The excitement hasn’t dimmed at all, and, clutching the fast-food bag tightly, you pivot towards the Gallery, little shivers of anticipation darting under your skin.
You practically run to the doors, and nearly commit the same mistake that student had, years ago, when they don’t open at your touch. The thought of smacking into them and announcing your presence to Jungkook that way has a low laugh bubbling in your throat. Yanking yourself to a halt, you try pulling and pushing on the doors, to no avail; they’re locked. You give them one last jerk, just to be sure, but they remain stubbornly shut. It’s not enough of a deterrent to dampen your spirits, though you find yourself bouncing impatiently on the soles of your feet, unable to get rid of the fizzy energy coursing through your veins.
You’re okay to wait outside until Jungkook comes out – it’s still not that cold out, and how much longer could he really be? – but nonetheless you start heading to the right, circling around the building, peering into the windows on the off-chance you can catch sight of your boyfriend and get his attention. The lights are off in some of the areas, but a few are flooded in a soft glow, and you skim your eyes over all that you can see. The more you look, the more confused you are about why Jungkook would be here. There are no other customers that you can see, so clearly, it’s not some sort of special Christmas showing. You literally can’t think of another reason he might be here. And hadn’t Yoongi said he was meeting someone?
It’s a mystery you can’t solve yourself, and you keep up your roaming examination. Most of the building has glass walls, except for an area near the back, and you can see inside fairly easily, where the lights are on. The Gallery is pretty typical, all open spaces and white, dismantlable walls, the better to more starkly exhibit the art pieces scattered across the wooden floors. There are paintings and sculptures, a few more abstract works, little plaques beside most of them –
But no Jungkook.
Lips pursued, you make your way further around, until you’re on the other side of the building, ears keen for any sound of a door opening. Wouldn’t that just be typical? While you’re wandering around out here, he comes out and leaves…
You should text him. A surprise visit is one thing, but at this point you being outside is going to be surprise enough. With that thought in mind, you begin fumbling in your pockets, awkwardly cradling the fast-food in one hand as you search for your phone. Not in your back jean pockets. A horrified panic starts building, and by the time you’ve clawed all the lint out of your sweater’s pockets, you’re certain. You don’t have it.
A memory, stilted and strained, of your hand falling to your side when you’d been talking about Jungkook’s stress in Yoongi’s car. In your anguish, it suddenly becomes clear to you; you’d dropped it. Forgotten to pick it up again. It was in the car!
For a second, you think that’s going to be the breaking point. The straw on the camel’s back. Your frustration peaks, eyes stinging, hands balled into fists as your excitement is drowned in self-reproach and an overwhelming sense of despair. Why were you so stupid? Fighting with Jungkook, sulking around the apartment, this dumb idea to get fast-food that’s definitely cold by now, and now – now this. You start walking again, barely looking, just planning to get to the front of the building and maybe collapse on the pavement. The crushing unhappiness doesn’t let up. Were you cursed? Was the world out to get you? Had you kicked a puppy in a past life? Why did you end up –
Your raging internal soliloquy is interrupted by movement within the Gallery. Someone is moving inside. Someone tall and muscular, with his black shirt rolled up to the elbows, long, shaggy black hair tucked behind his ears as he lounges against one of the white walls. He’s partially turned; you can only see half of his face, and even that not perfectly because of the narrow angle, but the sharp definition of his jaw is obvious, even from here. There’s something rectangular leaning against the wall next to him, wrapped in brown packaging paper, but you barely notice it. He’s talking to someone equally as tall, their back turned to you, but you barely register them.
Jungkook. It’s Jungkook!
It is not an exaggeration to say that for a second you doubt your eyes. Everything has just been so, so shitty today that you’d almost believe he’s a hologram or a figment of your imagination before buying that your flesh and blood boyfriend is standing some twenty feet away and that all it will take to end this horrible experience will be to catch his attention.
The person he’s talking to must say something funny, because his nose crinkles, lips rising as he tilts his head back and laughs. It’s just a giggle, quickly stifled, but it’s also a needle; the second you see that laugh, your bubble of disbelief pops with a force that’s almost audible. You can’t hear him, but at the same time, you can, fully aware of the way his snicker of amusement started out low and then pitched higher in tandem with his head being thrown back. The sound that isn’t a sound but a memory and a gift and a promise altogether gives rise to something hot and aching in your chest.
“Jungkook,” you say, barely aware of the name slipping between your tingling lips. There’s a rushing sensation in your ears, through your veins, like your blood has just remembered that it’s alive and is eager to prove it. The misery of moments and minutes and hours ago doesn’t disappear, but the sight of your boyfriend is enough to lift you out of it, to buoy you above the churning waves and set you, heart alight, in the clouds.
“Jungkook!” you call, a shout this time, and start waving. He doesn’t hear or notice you, attention fixed on the man he’s with. You still don’t recognize whoever it is, but then again, with his back to you all you can see is the vibrantly patterned orange shirt stretching over his shoulders and a fluffy bit of brown hair. However, whatever he’s saying has sobered Jungkook; from what you can see of his face, his lips have tightened, and he shakes his head now and again.
Who the hell is that, anyways? More vigorous gestures still don’t pull Jungkook’s gaze away from the other person. You know that any second now he’s going to look over and see you, break into a silly, bemused grin, rush over to the window, if only you could just– You’re about to tap on the glass when whoever it is abruptly steps closer to Jungkook. From what you can see, the guy’s large hands are moving passionately, persuasively, and a moment later he grabs Jungkook’s wrist, other hand rising up towards his face. You can’t quite tell what’s happening, except that Jungkook doesn’t shake him off or push him away. Doesn’t push him away, even when he leans closer, their faces inches apart, and the way they’re standing, you still don’t know who it is.
Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind that his personal space is being invaded. There’s an attempt at a scowl on his lips, but you can tell it’s fake, a laugh on the verge of breaking through. You realize your hand is still raised to knock on the window, and let it fall. Brows pulling together, you try to make sense of what you’re seeing. The other man leans in even more, and when their lips are about to touch you wrench your eyes away.
For a long moment you stare at the pavement at your feet, mouth moving silently, like you’re searching for a word that fits what you just saw happen. It couldn’t be what you thought. Any second now, a reasonable explanation is going to come to mind. You’re going to find some frame of reference that makes this understandable. There’s going to be something that changes your point of view, makes reality into fiction. Because this can’t be true. This can’t be happening.
Jungkook could not have just kissed someone else in an empty art gallery while he thought you were waiting for him at home.
Except that’s exactly what happened. You feel yourself change. You’re not a person anymore, not a human; you’re a wound, red and open and weeping. With a strangled sob, you suddenly find your feet moving to match your reeling thoughts, and you stagger away from the warmly lit building. The disbelief is like novocaine, numbing the screaming pain of the betrayal, but it’s not strong enough to force your gaze back through the window. Back to your boyfriend and whoever he’s with. Who knows what they’re doing now?
Stopping yourself from crumpling to your knees and curling into a ball takes almost all of your strength, and you can’t keep yourself from doubling over slightly, one hand across your middle as you stumble blindly down the sidewalk and away from the Gallery. You press on your eyes to keep back the tears, cover your mouth to stifle the high, anguished gasps you’re making, but it does little to fool anyone, least of all yourself. Each sob rips from somewhere deep inside you, opens up the injury even further, until it feels like you might very well be tearing your chest apart.
He couldn’t have. He just– he couldn’t have. You can’t reconcile what you saw with what you know, but how can they be two different things? How can your boyfriend – loving, loyal, protective – exist in the same place as that man who hadn’t mentioned he was meeting anyone, who snuck around on Christmas day to see someone else? How can Jungkook be a cheater? How? How?
How could I not have known?
Bewildered, you scrabble through your memories like they’re a pack of spilled cards, struggling to piece them together, to pick them up and put them in order after they’ve fluttered to the ground in a chaos of white and black and red. At first you can’t find a hint. Can’t find a reason. There’s warmth and laughter and closeness in your memories together, with only spots of friction and hurt. What could the memory of you throwing tinsel around Jungkook’s neck and him parading around the living room teach you about this moment? What could the recollection of Jungkook’s arms wrapped around your shaking form when you’d received news of your grandmother’s passing tell you that you should have already known? What could the shadow of his quiet admiration as you showed him your most recent design reveal to your befuddled mind?
Was the staying late the only clue? The only ace card that trumped every other moment together? Or had there been others? Did you confuse his withdrawal from you as stress when it was really guilt? Had the silence been resentment? Boredom? Was he really going to the gym? Or into someone else’s arms? Did you do something wrong? Say something wrong?
Is this your fault?
You don’t know what to do, and as your steps slow, tears still going strong, you realize you barely know where you are. It’s fully dark now, and people are passing infrequently, with the streetlights only vaguely reassuring as they spill over faces. You haven’t taken any side streets, just followed this main road passed gas stations and boutiques, offices and fast-food joints, so you’re not lost, exactly. But you don’t have your phone. How are you supposed to get home?
Home. Suddenly the ache is more real. Present. Demanding. How are you supposed to go home when you thought home was Jungkook?
What do you say to him? What can you say? The thought of facing him has you trembling with something approaching nausea. Or maybe it’s the cold. It’s late enough now that the temperature is dropping, your heaving breath misting from your mouth, and you hadn’t planned to be out so late. The sweater is doing nothing to keep you warm. The sweater…
“Oh, God…” you mumble, your fingers digging into the tacky material, creasing the bunny that had made Jungkook so happy. “What do I do?”
What do I do?
---
With a grunt, Jungkook shoves Taehyung away using a hand against his stomach, the other man’s breath spilling across his face as he huffs in surprise. The push is strong enough to send Taehyung staggering back several paces, and he nearly trips and falls. Even as he catches himself, Jungkook is regretting the violence of the motion. It’s just – he’s feeling so vulnerable right now, so strained, and his friend acting like a clown doesn’t help matters.
Rubbing at his stomach, the other man complains reproachfully, “I was just trying to show you what to do!”
Jungkook sighs, rubbing at his face. “I don’t remember saying I needed help with how to make out,” he points out.
Taehyung throws up his hands. “You’ve missed the point!” he exclaims in disgust. “Didn’t you see the concern in my eyes? The tenderness? Dude, I was stroking your face. That’s how it’s done!”
He snorts but the irritation is already fading, replaced by the amusement he’d had when Tae first started his shenanigans. Jungkook shakes his head, clearing his hair from his eyes, and relents a little. “Do you really think I should do it like that?” A beat. “Well, I mean, not like that. Better.”
With a grand gesture at their surroundings, Taehyung ignores the insult (or misses it, it’s hard to tell with Tae sometimes) and tells him, “You’re already doing better. You’ve got her a painting from an artist she loves.” He stops, points to himself. “Courtesy of your friendly neighbourhood art dealer, who sacrificed his Christmas night and drove all this way to make sure you got it. Plus, there’s the big news – she’s going to lose her mind when you tell her. Anyways, yeah, Koo, I’m pretty sure she’s gonna forgive you, even if you don’t use my sweet moves.”
“But I still don’t know what to say.” Jungkook hates how whiny his voice sounds, how uncertain. At the same time, it feels… good, to admit how he hasn’t got a clue how to make up with you. Or– That isn’t quite right. He does know, somewhere in his gut, in the palms of his hands, in the way his lips ache to skim along your skin. It’s just turning that feeling into words that’s struck him dumb.
“Dude, say what’s in your heart.” There is no one in the world but Taehyung who could say that earnestly and not sound like a weirdo, yet there the other man is, mouth set solemnly, somehow almost making sense. “You love her, you’re sorry for what’s happened, you want to hear her opinion, you’re working to make it better… Koo, you’ve told me all of that in the last half an hour. Now you just need to say it to her.”
“But what if…” He can’t even put it into words, the fear and uncertainty and guilt. Is he asking too much of you? Does he even deserve to ask anything? And what if… what if…
Reading him like a book, Taehyung smiles, simple and brilliant. “She’s going to forgive you. You’ve already forgiven her, so what else is there? Just the getting it done.” Still Jungkook hesitates, and his childhood friend says, a little more gently, “You’re a good person, Koo. I know that, and she does too. Talk to her. You won’t regret it.”
He hangs his head, slowly running his fingers against each other, exploring their lines like they might lead him to the courage he’s searching for. The call with you this afternoon had – shaken him. Although Jungkook had been aware – painfully so – that the two of you weren’t spending enough time together, he hadn’t realized how much it was harming you, and your anger had been both shocking and hurtful. Work had just sucked, so much, and to have you yelling at him…
But after the initial defensive reaction, he couldn’t get the thought of you sitting alone out of his head. It was never his intention to leave you for the whole day, but when he broached the subject of leaving with the boss, the look he got on his face, the way he said, “Well, of course, since I assume you’re done everything you were assigned,” had just been…
You still shouldn’t have left her. Jungkook knows that, knows equally that he didn’t have all that much of a choice if he didn’t want to get fired. It was the balancing act between those understandings that had his shoulders hunched, his cheek fair game to be chewed on. He was working on changing the situation – Namjoon and Yoongi were helping – but what if you thought it wasn’t fast enough? What if you decided you had enough? How can he bear to face you with that possibility on the horizon?
Taehyung gives him space, just hums under his breath and wanders a little, examining the various pieces on display. The Golden Closet Gallery isn’t one of his usual haunts – he tends to deal with artists further up north – but he’d come at Jungkook’s hesitant request, with an alacrity that still has Jungkook wondering what he’d done to deserve such a friend.
He’d had his eye on your favourite local artist’s website, and when the painting went on sale, he’d known he had to get it. However, Projeck employees didn’t get paid until the 20th, and by the time he had enough money to comfortably purchase it, the artist wasn’t available on short notice and wouldn’t have been around to give it to him until after New Year’s Eve. Taehyung is well known in the community, though, and the painter had had no qualms letting him deal with establishing the price and then handing the piece over. It was practically a miracle, even if Tae had only been able to slip away from his family on Christmas afternoon.
Eventually, with Taehyung’s deep baritone hum a soothing presence, Jungkook tamps his fear down. Gets it to a manageable level. At the end of the day – Taehyung is right. He loves you, more than anything, more than he thought he could love anyone. That’s enough. It has to be enough.
He looks up, clears his throat. “Thanks, TaeTae,” Jungkook says quietly. “I really couldn’t have done this without you.”
His friend beams. “Nah, you couldn’t have. But what else are friends for, right?”
“I’ll get you an early release copy of Urban Anonymous. I think you’ll like it,” he promises. “But in the meantime… I think I’ve got someone to, uh, speak my heart to.” For half a second Jungkook thinks he’s about to die from the sheer cringe of saying that, a blush flooding across his cheeks, but at the same time – it feels kinda good to say. Goofily so, and very embarrassing, but still.
If anything, Taehyung’s beam intensifies. “Then my job here is done! I should hit the road anyways, I wanna get back home. I promised my parents I’d make them something nice for breakfast tomorrow.”
“Sure you don’t wanna stay over?” Glancing out the window, taking in how dark it is, Jungkook feels bad to be sending Taehyung out on the road at this time.
The other man snickers. “And get in the way of a beautiful thing? Nah. Besides, you know I like driving at night, and it’s only a little over three hours. I’ll be fine.”
“If you say so…” Jungkook snags the painting off of the floor, and together they walk through the Gallery, to the doors Taehyung had locked behind them when they entered. He unlocks them now, and they leave the aesthetically pleasing space, spilling out into the chilly night air. As Taehyung locks up, Jungkook glances around, breathing in deeply. Now that he’s resolved himself, he actually feels – a little better. Steadier, as though his world isn’t about to jerk out from underneath his feet.
Their cars are parked together, and once there Taehyung flings himself at Jungkook – scrupulously avoiding hitting into the painting, of course – and they hug, Jungkook staggering under the weight of his friend. The fond affection is a fluffy, sleepy thing, and, with one hand wrapped around Taehyung’s shoulders, Jungkook repeats, “Thank you, TaeTae.” It’s not eloquent, but with Taehyung, it’s enough.
They break apart, and Taehyung is grinning, a wide, boxy affair that has the nostalgia and warmth growing. “I’ve missed you, Koo. I’m glad we got to meet up. Tell Y/N that I miss her too, okay? And that I wish her a Merry Christmas.”
“We’ll have to get together again soon; Y/N will be disappointed she missed you. Although I know she loved your blue hair, so she’ll probably be sad you changed it.” It had even surprised Jungkook a bit when Tae had first ducked out of his car. The blue had just been so… riveting, and compared to that, the darker tone really changes how he looks. Not to mention that Tae went with a curlier style this time around.
Taehyung runs a hand through his fluffy brown locks before shrugging. “I got bored. Besides, I haven’t had brown in, what? Five years? It was a nice change.”
“It’s a good look. Almost as good as mine,” Jungkook teases, and Taehyung laughs in his deep, rolling way. “Okay. Merry Christmas, TaeTae. And have a Happy New Year! Don’t drive into a ditch, but if you do, call me.”
“I’ll get you to drag the car out by yourself,” Taehyung agrees amiably. “You look like you could manage it these days, and it’d save me the cost of the tow-truck.”
He gives Jungkook’s upper arm a cheerful poke, whistles in exaggerated admiration and then dodges Jungkook’s swipe at him. “See you soon, Koo! I’ll send you a text when I get home. Hopefully you’ll be too busy to read it until tomorrow.” And with a wicked little giggle, he gets into his car.
“Bye, Tae! See you! Thank you!” Jungkook waves until the other man has pulled away, blasting an R&B version of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, and then he gets into his own car. Being with Tae is like inhaling a warmer version of helium, all uplift and expansion. It suddenly occurs to Jungkook, with a little jolt, that he’s excited to get home.
No matter how scared he is, scared of the future and scared of the conversation ahead, picturing you, thinking of walking into the apartment and seeing your face, is enough to drive a sharp spike of joy through his trepidation. You are the best thing in his life, and even with this fight, even with the hurt still nestled against his ribs, he wouldn’t have drawn it any other way.
It’s as he’s starting the car that he realizes he got a text from Namjoon and didn’t notice. Hey Jungkookie. Can you let Y/N know we have her phone? She left it in the car.
He stares at the words, waiting for the moment when they’ll make sense. When sense is not forthcoming despite scrambling his brains for what it could mean, Jungkook types out a reply, his fingers sweaty with sudden anxiety.
what car? you saw Y/N today?
…Yeah? We dropped her off at the Gallery. Did she not mention it?
at the gallery?? when?
His heart is in his throat, the unease ricocheting to unprecedented levels, and Jungkook shoves open the car door, begins looking desperately around like you two could have possibly missed each other in the empty lot. When his phone vibrates thirty seconds later, he almost drops it in his haste to unlock it.
Thirty minutes ago. Around there. Is she not there? Is everything okay?
Jungkook rips his eyes from the screen to the empty parking lot and back to the screen, a bewildered trek that gives him no hints, and he doesn’t know the answer.
---
When you finally get back to the apartment, your hurt has become a cramped, flattened pressure at the back of your throat, and every breath scrapes painfully on the way out. It’s taken you close to two hours to get back. The first person you’d asked for directions had given you the wrong bus number, and while you’d realized it eventually, you’d been going the wrong way for a significant period of time.
Usually, you and Jungkook laugh at how bad your sense of direction is, but this is just more humiliation to stoke an already raging fire of shame. Your steps literally drag – you almost trip on your way up the stairs – and your fingers are tingling, almost numb. It’s gotten progressively colder as the night wore on, and by now the icy feeling has sunk deep into your bones, passed the hard exterior until its wrapped around the marrow.
You’d thought about checking into a hotel. You at least hadn’t forgotten or lost your credit card. There was something tempting about postponing the moment when you had to see Jungkook. But at the same time… If you didn’t answer your phone and didn’t come back, he might worry (would he worry?) and worse, he might get other people involved. What if he talked to Namjoon and Yoongi? Or phoned your parents or brother? You can’t stand the thought of having to explain to them what happened without any preparation – without even knowing what happened yourself.
So here you are, facing the door, empty-handed. You’d thrown out the fast-food at the first trashcan you’d come to after deciding to return. Would Jungkook be home by now? Had he finished with – was he done? Or was he still out there, still… You have to say it eventually, you try to tell yourself firmly, but your whole being cringes from making that acknowledgement, from putting it into syllables that might somehow trap it in reality. It’s not something you can manage tonight. You really don’t know what will be worse, him being inside or not, but you can’t just stand outside forever.
Forcing the key to the lock is no harder than flinging yourself off a cliff, and you approach it with the same amount of dry-mouth apprehension. Your hands are shaking so bad it’s hard to get them to align, but when you finally do, the click of the key sliding in is too loud, like its announcing that you’ve slunk back in shame to all of the apartment building inhabitants. A ridiculous notion, but you flinch anyways, heart seizing as your stiff fingers fumble with the little jiggle required to get the door to open. It takes you three attempts, your anxiety growing, and when you finally manage it, you’re so strung out with tension that you don’t hesitate. You just fling the door open and stumble through.
Straight into Jungkook.
For just a second, it feels like the magnetism you learned about in school. For just a second you fall into him like there’s nothing else in the world more natural than falling, and for just a second you press against his chest and feel dizzy with the light, clean scent that surrounds you. For just a second, as he catches your weight and closes his arms around you, calling your name with a voice of choked relief, you let yourself forget.
For just a second.
And then reality floods back in, a tainted torrent of regret and grief, strewn with rage and humiliation that drifts just below the surface. Though you’re so unsteady you can barely see, your lungs blocked and battling to heave in enough air just to keep breathing, you struggle to get away from him.
“Let go of me,” you say, dry and curt, and when his arms only tighten – more, you suspect, to keep you from pitching over than in denial of your demand – your efforts become harsher, more violent. Without room you can’t get any momentum to really push away from him, but your motions are frantic with the desire to do just that. There’s a panicked, screaming need to get away from him, to get enough space, like he’s the reason your lungs are crumpling in on themselves. “Let go, Jungkook!” you cry, your voice spiking up into shrillness, shattering the syllables of his name.
Like he’s been electrified, Jungkook jerks, his arms flying open. Instantly, let loose, you scramble away, down the entrance hallway. Just as off balance as he’d feared, you nearly trip over something long and cumbersome leaning against the wall that you’re too distraught to look at, and you have to windmill to catch your balance. A moment later you slam your shoulder into the corner of the wall as you try to take the turn too sharply. “Y/N, please, stop!” you hear, and wish you hadn’t. Barely registering the sharp throb in your shoulder, you catch yourself and keep going. Seconds later you’re in the bedroom, and you slam the door shut.
It doesn’t have a lock. Putting your back to the door, your air rattling hollowly out of your mouth – too fast, too shallow, but you can’t seem to calm down – you slide down the solid surface. Pulling your knees to your chest, you rest your forehead against them, eyes tightly closed, still gasping. Your eyes are aching, but you can’t cry against the immense pressure of overwhelming panic. There’s just a stinging sensation and a pulsing rigidity in your face, like each and every muscle there has chosen to stage a personal rebellion at the exact same time.
I can’t, I can’t, oh God, please, I can’t do this I can’t look at him I can’t I –
“Y/N?” Jungkook sounds like he’s directly on the other side of the door, but he makes no attempt to open it. “Baby, please, are you okay?”
His voice is so raw with worry that it’s red. The colour blooms across your closed eyelids, swathes of crimson and scarlet, and you imagine that it’s blood, trickling from the wound inside of you. You can barely tell where your back ends and the door begins, like any moment you might slide through it, or maybe through the floor, or through the ground, or maybe you’re already there, floating in nothing, and the red breaks into jagged pieces of black and orange and you still can’t breathe.
“Y/N? Can you talk to me? Just – say something, okay? Just so I know you’re okay.”
You can’t even manage that. Even if you wanted to. Even if he deserved to know. Throat moving convulsively, you choke out a sob but nothing else comes after. Just wheezing breaths, and you think you’re shaking but you’re somewhere outside of your skin so it’s hard to tell.
“Okay, okay. I’m – I’m gonna be here, okay? Right here. If you need me, I’m here.” Even through the hazy distortion swamping you, Jungkook’s clear, resonant voice comes through. Maybe it’s the concern, too heavy to be swept away by the raging panic. Maybe it’s the compassion, too anchored in you to be broken away by the tremendous pressure.
Or maybe you just know Jungkook’s voice so well that even your disassociation can’t make it unfamiliar to you.
“You’re doing good, Y/N. I’m still here. Just on the other side of this door.” A pause, a deep chasm of silence, and then he continues. “I think it’s a panic attack. I know it’s scary, but it’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
Later, you will be both annoyed and touched that Jungkook realized you were having a panic attack before you did. You’ve had a few throughout university, but none within the past year or two, and in the moment, you’d been too overwhelmed to identify what’s going on. The insight is helpful though, something to cling to and repeat to yourself. A grounding. It’s a panic attack. You’re going to be okay.
Jungkook keeps talking, slow and steady. Nothing serious. Just words. You lean on his voice just as hard as you’re leaning on the door, and, slowly but surely, in a stretch of time that doesn’t mean anything to you, the constrictive bands across your chest loosen. You sink back into yourself. The tips of your fingers make sense again.
And you start crying.
“Y/N? How’re you feeling?”
Funny. Now, with your throat something other than a fist and pain, you still struggle to say anything. This is a softer kind of crying, not quite quiet, with little, hiccupping gasps as the tears run down your face. Possible to speak through. You just don’t know what to say to the man who just talked you, with kindness and compassion, through a panic attack. Who cheated on you. Your fingertips might make sense, but nothing else does.
“I – Y/N, baby, I get that you’re upset, but I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me.” So anguished. Why did he have to sound like that? What right did he have?
You don’t know if it’s outrage or bewilderment or grief or pity that has you answering. Is it possible to have all of them in your mouth, gritty across your tongue? At any rate, your tone is as washed out as you feel, fatigued and grey. “I saw, Jungkook,” you whisper to your knees.
There’s silence on the other side of the door. Denial? Guilt? His reply is sluggish, thick with confusion. “You saw what?”
That makes you laugh – or not really, though the tortured sound was supposed to be one. “I was there. At the Golden Closet Gallery.” Will he really keep pretending after he knows you were there? Could he really be that brazen? The Jungkook you know couldn’t. There’s no way he could carry a lie like that, holding it effortlessly in the face of the truth. The Jungkook you know would blush, shuffle, collapse like a house of cards. He’s really not good at lying.
The answer isn’t a lie, but it confuses you all the same. “I know you were. Namjoon texted me to say he’d dropped you off, but – Where did you go? I – I drove around for like an hour trying to find you, and I couldn’t and when I got home you weren’t here…” The stream of words dies out like Jungkook can’t quite find any more to say, or maybe he’s embarrassed to say them.
When your reply isn’t forthcoming, confusion churning up anything you might spit out, he continues, more subdued. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to push you after what you just went through, I just– Are– How are you feeling? Was it – did something happen while you were getting here? Is that what took so long?” Another pause that you can’t fill, that stretches on and on as you try to understand what he’s talking about. How he can apologize for that and not the actual offense.
Abruptly his voice bursts out. “Why won’t you talk to me!?” Tighter and more uncertain than you’ve heard tonight. Maybe more afraid than you’ve ever heard him.
It rips at your heart, and you realize in a swell of furious sorrow that you can’t stand to hear him sound like that. With a sudden, unstable surge, you get to your feet. Immediately your vision falters a bit, and you stagger, but catch yourself before you fall, clinging to the doorknob. You take a deep breath, fighting away the residual nausea and light-headedness. It clears within a few seconds, and your hand tightens on the knob as you take a deep breath. You can’t just leave him standing out there. You can’t just leave this incomprehensible thing hanging in the frame between your two lives.
You open the door. Slowly. Reluctantly. But you open it.
His long black hair is a wild mess, pushed back from his forehead, strands sticking up here and there. Even as you inch the door open, he runs his hand through it, ruffling it even further. His shirt is wrinkled, only partially tucked in, one sleeve rolled to bare his forearm, the other slipped down almost all the way. With his jaw so tense it’s a wonder he’s not cracking his teeth, Jungkook stares at you, lips set and pale. He doesn’t look like someone who committed a betrayal only hours before; if anything, the anguished panes of his face speak to a betrayal committed against him.
You’re so, so tired. Too tired to grasp at the outrage that wisps at the edge of your consciousness. Sniffling to clear your throat, you wipe at your face, trying make yourself a little less pitiful. “I was at the Gallery, Jungkook. I saw you,” you repeat because it’s still so hard to think of anything to say. When his expression doesn’t change – unless his eyebrows furrow, just a little, in innocent perplexity – you exhale. “I saw you with that guy. I saw you…”
“That guy? Who do you–” Jungkook breaks off, examines you more closely, like you’ve given him something to be concerned about. “Are you talking about Taehyung?”
The name is startling in its sheer unexpectedness. What the hell did Jungkook’s best friend have to do with any of this? “Taehyung? No, I’m not talking about Taehyung. I’m talking about that guy you were with tonight, in the Gallery. The guy you–” The words catch, but only for a second. You push them through with a surge of vehement exasperation for the blank expression he’s wearing. “The guy you kissed!”
In another place, the nonplused spasm across his face would have been hilarious. As it is, it just heightens your frustration, and the way he starts sputtering does absolutely nothing to reduce it. Even when he finally gets himself together and manages to talk, your aggravation is here to stay.
Right next to your mortification, as it happens.
“I didn’t– Y/N, that guy at the Gallery was Tae! Could you not tell it was him? I know he has brown hair now, but…” Jungkook shakes his head, flipping his own hair back. The tension seems to have slipped from his jaw, at least a little, and it might very well have crept into yours. “Is that– Is that what this whole thing has been about? You thought I did something with some random guy?” His lips twitch, and it doesn’t seem like he can decide if he wants to smile or scowl, and you feel the beginning of a flush heating up your face.
“It was Taehyung! And I didn’t kiss him. I mean, he tried to kiss me but it was just to–” Abruptly there’s a wash of faint scarlet crawling up his cheeks – cheeks that are rounder than they were a second ago, as he looks down and away, gaze slipping from you for the first time since you opened the door.
“Just to what?” you demand, the challenge extra belligerent to make up for the belated shock of suspended relief that hangs like smoke over your head. Too intangible for you to catch with your hands right now, though present enough to burn your throat with its sooty possibility.
He’s still looking at the ground, the blush becoming more prominent, and he begins to shift, the rustle of his dress pants loud in the fraught silence. “Um,” Jungkook begins awkwardly, head ticking to the side the way it always does when he regrets saying something or doubts his ability to do something. “It’s just, uh… he was helping me.”
“Helping you.”
Jungkook winces at your deadpan echo. “Yeah. I, um, asked him to…” Hands drumming on his thighs, drawing your attention for a second before you snap back to his flushed face, Jungkook bounces on the balls of his feet. “Uh… This is totally not how I planned this,” he mumbles, before hauling his gaze up to meet your own. “Hold on for a sec, okay? I just want to grab something.” For all that he’s definitely lightened a bit, the request is tinged with urgent appeal, his eyes scouring your face hesitantly like he’s afraid you’re going to retreat back to the room the moment he loses sight of you.
You’re not entirely sure that isn’t going to happen, but there have been so many emotional upheavals today you’ve just about exhausted your ability to feel more defensiveness. The more Jungkook speaks – the longer you’re in his presence – the more the sheer impossibility of what you’d believed is sinking in. He’s just – he’s Jungkook. Such a focal point of light and energy, such a reserve of easily offered comfort in a form so much more substantial than words. Somehow – maybe because of his prolonged absences, maybe because of your staggeringly challenging day – you’d managed to forget just what he is, but it’s in front of you now, demanding to be seen and acknowledged against the backdrop of what you’d thought. What had seemed so possible, even an hour ago, suddenly seems ridiculous when set next to the quiet solidity of him, of everything he is.
Wiping again at eyes that haven’t ceased watering yet, you nod.
He hurries away, down the short hallway and back towards the front entrance. You hear a thump, a muttered curse, a short dragging noise, and then Jungkook rounds the corner, hefting a rectangular object covered in brown paper. When you examine it more closely, you’re pretty sure it’s what you almost fell over when you ran inside. By the time he’s standing in front of you, the unwieldy item put on the ground and balanced against his knee, you’re pretty sure you know what it is by the shape and packaging alone.
And somewhere, in the back of your mind, you’re beginning to make connections. About Taehyung and the art gallery and the thing on the ground in front of you.
Jungkook just speeds up the process. “I was gonna wrap it in something nicer,” he offers apologetically, “but I was… Baby, I was so scared when Namjoon said you should have been at the gallery and I couldn’t find you and you weren’t at home. I thought – hell, I didn’t know what to think. That you got kidnapped or something.” He laughs, that shaky sound of amusement reserved for disasters that are absurd to imagine until they actually happen, and you shift, the heat crowding your face growing.
With a slight roll of his shoulders, he nudges the brown-wrapped object. “Anyways… Tae was helping me get this. For, um, you. Because I thought you might like it.” When you make no move to grab it, his eyebrows knit together. “Y/N? I swear, I didn’t do anything with anyone else. I wouldn’t do anything with–”
“I know.” You cut him off, unable to bear the imploring tone. It’s impossible to meet his beseeching gaze with the burden of your stupidity weighing on you, and you keep your eyes on your fingers. “I know you didn’t. Jungkook, I’m…” The winded feeling is still lingering, a hollowness in your lungs, and you have to inhale deeply just to remind yourself you can. Your anger at being abandoned by Jungkook for work died out so long ago it might as well be a relic, and with the betrayed grief swept so thoroughly out of your stomach, you’re left feeling strangely empty of anything but guilt.
“I’m so sorry. I – God, I’m so stupid. I saw you two and I thought – I assumed…” All of the logic that had founded your incorrect assumption is trickling through your grasping fingers, and you don’t know how to explain in a way that makes sense. In a way that justifies how you’d leapt to conclusions.
“I’m sorry,” you continue unevenly. “I just…”
“It’s okay.” When you keep staring down, Jungkook moves closer, reaches out, tentatively puts his arm around you. Light enough that you could break away if you wanted to. You don’t. You absolutely don’t.
The contact feels like an anchor, pulling you ever closer to reality. Making the trembling relief that much more real. The embarrassment, too. “Really Y/N, it’s – I know today has been…” After a moment he sighs, faint and low, shaking his head. “Today has sucked so bad, and Christmas isn’t supposed to be like this. I get why you thought what you did. After everything that’s been happening, after I’ve – I haven’t been around.”
“That doesn’t make it okay,” is your whispered protest, still unable to look at him. “I should have just talked to you.”
“Yeah. Yeah, that would have saved us both a bit of panic. But Y/N…” He waits, waits longer, until you’re forced to bring your eyes up. Meeting the dark softness of his gaze summons up more guilt, more regret – but also a clear, undeniable relief. Light at the end of a pitch black tunnel. You’re not out of the darkness, but with those sympathetic eyes on you, you have a sense of striving. Like taking a step, and then another, is possible. And might just be worth it.
“Y/N, baby, it’s not all your fault. It’s on me too.” His arms are resting lightly on your shoulders, fingers gently rubbing across the nape of your neck. “I haven’t talked with you enough. Kept just pushing it off, pretending it’s okay.” When he laughs softly, his breath tickles your face. “Not quite okay, hey?”
Your strained giggle isn’t heartfelt, and it fades quickly. “In the car, when Namjoon and Yoongi gave me a ride, they said – It seems like work has really, really sucked. More than I thought it did.” You lean back, just a bit, his arms a steady support against your back, and search his face. He’s biting his cheek, little lines skittering across his forehead. This close, the dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced, his skin sallower than it should be. He looks tired, but he doesn’t look away from you.
“Jungkook,” you say quietly. “How bad is it?”
Something flickers behind his eyes, a shadow of his normal reserve. You can feel the tightness in his body, the slight tremor that suggests he’s about to move away. The protective distance he clings to when he doesn’t want to worry you rears up – and you kill it with your hand, trembling only slightly as you tenderly trace your fingers along his temple, down his cheekbone, to cup the strong lines of his jaw. “Please, Jungkook. Tell me.”
The admission comes, fast and breathless, like he needs to get the words out before his teeth clench over them. “Bad. It’s bad. I hate it there.”
“Oh. I–” This is a different kind of pain from most of what you’ve been feeling today. More selfless, an anguish that extends and expands outward instead of curling up. “I’m so sorry. Kookie, I didn’t know. I should have but–”
“I didn’t tell you. How could you know?”
“I should have,” you insist.
His mouth quirks, a flash of teeth showing in mild amusement. “You can’t expect me to know you’re upset, but you should know when I am? I don’t think it works that way, babe.” When your mouth opens to object, Jungkook pulls you to his chest, cutting off your protest. You sink into his embrace, boneless and aching and grateful for the support, and if the gift’s hard frame weren’t digging into your leg, it would almost be perfect.
Perfect enough.
Pressing your face against his shirt, you feel him kiss the top of your head, arms still wrapped firmly around your shoulders. “I’m glad you’re safe,” he whispers.
“I’m glad you told me about work,” you mumble into his chest, reluctant to draw away. “If I told you to quit today, would you?” You’re not really joking, even though you know what the immediate answer has to be. You don’t have enough savings for one of you to quit without any other prospects lined up.
“Actually…” There’s something restrained in his voice, teetering on the edge of anxiety, or maybe excitement.
Shock has you looking up, resisting the comforting pull of his warmth for a moment. “You did!?”
“Oh, uh, no,” Jungkook says hurriedly, biting at his lower lip. Far from pleasure, the reassurance has disappointment funneling into your heart, funds be damned. To say that Jungkook’s job was the mother of all evils would probably be both unfair and exaggerated, but if it’s making him (and you) as miserable as he says...
“It sounds really bad, Jungkook. Killing yourself trying to please a bunch of jerks isn’t worth it.”
“You’re right.” He’s smiling now, smiling completely, showing off his teeth. “I don’t know if I can keep working for them for much longer, but… Ah, I was so scared to talk about this, and here you are, making it easy!” In his excitement, he’s playing with your hair, hands restless as they dance around. For once, the mystery isn’t extended. “Namjoon wants to break off. Start a new company, one that’s not an absolute dumpster fire to work for. He’s got several other people lined up who are happy to go, and Yoongi, obviously, and he asked me if I would join, too!”
“Is that why they gave me a ride?” Even as you demand it, you can feel yourself picking up on Jungkook’s energy. Not too much – the exhaustion sucking at your bones won’t allow it – but still, the lightness in your chest is a far cry from the sodden despair that’s taken up space there for most of the day.
Your boyfriend jiggles his head back and forth. “I dunno. Maybe. But I think mostly they did it because they’re pretty nice people.” He sounds a bit awed as he continues. “We can’t start for a couple more months – Namjoon said something about getting funding from some rich guy, Bang Sihyuk – but I still can’t believe they want me to come along. I mean, some of the people are, like, the best there are, Y/N.” You can almost see stars shining in his eyes.
Your response is firm, albeit playful. “So, it makes perfect sense that they’re having you join! Kookie, you’re gonna fit in so well, because you’re one of the best, too.” And honestly, you’re not even just shovelling empty praise; Jungkook is a truly talented artist in his medium.
His smile grows, eyes thinning with happiness. “And – you’re okay with it? There aren’t any guarantees that it will work out, with it being a new company.”
The trials of the day – mostly made from your own mind, though no less difficult for all of that – pass through your head. The loneliness and anger and sadness. All of it dimmed if not gone entirely, simply because here you are in his arms, speaking to each other instead of covering your hurt up. “Jungkook, one of the few guarantees I have of anything is that I love you, and you love me. If you’ll be happy working with Namjoon, with moving companies, then that’s all I need to hear.”
With a low hum, Jungkook sweeps you into another hug, and you’re glad to give up what space is between you two. Enfolded in his arms, listening to his steady heartbeat, is about the securest place you can imagine being. “I love you,” he says, voice thick with the truth of what he’s saying.
“I love you, too. Thank you. Thank you so much for everything.”
“I haven’t even given you your presents yet. Here –” And you’re breaking apart again – although not really, because you can still feel the connection as a thin warmth snuggled beneath your ribs – and Jungkook bends down, picks up the item sandwiched between you two. “Feel up to opening it?”
“The mystery gift that almost broke our relationship? Yeah, I’m up to it.”
Nose scrunching, he hands it over, and in your haste to see what’s inside, you make short work of the brown packaging. You can’t honestly say you’re surprised with the first glimpse of the mahogany frame – you expected a painting – but as more of the brown rips away, you feel shivery awe cascading down your spine. Once the painting is completely uncovered, you clutch it with sweaty palms, well aware of how precious a gift you’ve been given. You’d recognize the style anywhere.
“Jungkook,” you breathe, “oh my God, Jungkook, this is one of Ayeong’s, isn’t it? You – you actually got one of her paintings!?”
The quality is unmistakable. It’s a detailed piece, zoomed in on a small, dilapidated house. Almost everything about the house is bleak; the colours are all dull greys, blacks and browns, the porch is crumbling, and the shutters over the windows are chipped and cracked in places. However, right in the center of the house, taking up a good portion of the painting, is a door flung wide open, and the inside is flooded with warm colours and details in stark contrast with the exterior. There are people inside, crowded around the entrance, laughing and vibrant, and they dominate the doorway with their collective presence. One person, the only one who is looking outward, has her hand raised in greeting, as though inviting the viewers in.
“It’s called Homecoming.”
Soft and reverent, the name feels like an echo, a reverberation of your hopes and fears, and against a suddenly blurry vision, you smile. “It’s beautiful! It’s so, so beautiful. Thank you, Jungkook.”
“Do you feel like opening the rest of our presents? Or should we wait until tomorrow? We can grab your phone in the morning, too.”
Your fatigue drags at you, overwhelming even your hunger, but you try to rally, lifting your chin up. “What do you want to do? Do you want to open a present?”
His head tilts as he looks you over, a quick assessment. “I don’t have to. It’ll be nice to look forward to it later.” You’re absolutely positive he’s saying that for your sake, and it makes you just that closer to crying in gratitude for what’s in front of you.
Swallowing hard, you suggest, “How about tomorrow, then? We can…” You pause, scrambling for the memory, and then grin tiredly. “We can reset. Start over tomorrow.”
Jungkook’s laugh washes over you in cozy tides of amusement. “Now there’s a great idea. Whoever thought of it is a genius.”
With a chuckle, you carefully set the painting to the side, planning on figuring out where to put it tomorrow. As soon as it leaves your hands, Jungkook is there again, claiming the free territory. His grip firm and warm, he asks you, “Do you wanna eat? Or maybe nap for a bit?”
Your panic attacks always leave you drained, and the fact that Jungkook remembers is just another fond ache to add to the collection in your chest. “Nap,” you reply gratefully. “But… do you wanna lie down with me? Just for a bit?”
He couldn’t have looked any more solemn, or any more beautiful, if he’d tried. Squeezing your hand, he says, “I’d lie with you forever, if I could get away with it.” A second later the somber façade breaks apart, leaving a blush and a squirming, quietly giggly Jungkook.
With a snort, you pull him along with you, into the bedroom, a tightness across your chest that has everything to do with just how much you love the man next to you. “Now I know you were with Taehyung.” That makes you remember, and as you both walk to the bed, you glance at him, narrowing your eyes. “Are you going to tell me what Taehyung almost kissing you had to do with helping you out?”
As expected, his blush grows, painting his cheeks with a pale pink, but he surprises you by pulling you closer. With a hand under your chin, the other arm wrapped around your waist, he tilts your head up. Meeting your eyes with a tenderness that floods you with reassurance, he brushes a thumb along your lips, leaving a tingling trail. When it comes, his voice is hoarser than before, firmer. “He was trying to teach me something I already know.”
And then his mouth is on yours, steady and certain. Your lips soften against him, and time becomes languid, moving by the count of each breath that flutters against your lips. Jungkook isn’t demanding, not tonight; he kisses you sweetly, gently, conveying everything that he hasn’t managed to put into words. His body has a gravitational pull all its own, drawing you closer, and you skim your hands against his back, relishing the powerful certainty of his shoulders and the intimate confidence of his mouth on yours.
A second later, he sweeps you off your feet, and you gasp in surprise, breaking off the kiss. Jungkook places you on the bed, stands looking down at you with unmasked adoration. You open your arms, a wordless invitation that unwittingly bares the front of your top. His eyes fix on it, and if anything, they soften.
“I like your sweater,” he comments quietly, and as you laugh, he climbs onto the bed with you.
You take off the sweater in question, and your jeans and bra, easy and unhesitant in his presence. He follows suit, and then grabs your pajamas, placed as they always are at the foot of the bed. You wiggle into them, and for his part, Jungkook just throws on a pair of loose pants. The feeling of familiarity sinks into your system like a sigh of contentment, and when he pulls you against his chest, you snuggle into the embrace.
Wrapped in his arms, the smooth warmth of his skin pressed against your cheek, you let the drowsy bliss sweep over your body, and you relax, sinking against the sheets even as you curl closer to him.
Jungkook’s voice ripples against your mind, a soothing undercurrent taking you closer to sleep. “Merry Christmas, baby.”
“Merry Christmas,” you mumble. With one last faltering effort, you say, “Jungkook?”
“Hmm?” You feel the inquiring murmur just as much as you hear it, a smooth hum on your cheek.
“Thank you for coming home.”
#thebtswritersclub#networkbangtan#jungkook x reader#jungkook#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#bts fic#bts fanfiction#my fic
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we’re not engaged T.H.
wc: 1.5k
ariana grande!reader tells the world tom and her aren’t engaged
(fluff)
She couldn't have been happier. She was practically glowing, only she wasn't pregnant. Just married.
Y/N and Tom had dated for two and a half years before Tom proposed. Announcing it on their social medias months later had erupted in millions of 'congrats!' and 'very happy for you two!"'s. The couple had announced their big step a few months after Tom popped the question, so the wedding was well on its way already.
It wasn't a stereotypical wedding. On the contrary, it was quite small; only their closest friends & family members attended the private wedding venue. Paparazzi hadn't suspected a thing, and neither had the fans.
It had been three months since the wedding, and Y/N was attending her first interview since before it. She was releasing an album in about a month, so there was much to catch up on.
Tom and her agreed that if they were asked about marriage, then they would be honest, but they hoped to not go purposefully raise attention.
"Y/N, welcome back! It's been what- a year?" Zach, the host, said.
There was a group of fans sitting on the floor in bean bags and big cushions, right in front of the couch that Y/N and Zach were seated on, microphones propped up in front of them.
"Uh-" she laughed. "Yeah, yeah I think so." She was sitting cross-legged, her hands in her lap and underneath the blanket that was covering her. She wasn't really hiding the ring sitting on her left hand, but she wore an over-sized hoodie (which was really just Tom's) so she would have sweater-paws in case.
Y/N went on to answer each question, her answers three times as long as what was asked. The fans had respectable comments and questions as well -- joining in only when it was appropriate.
"What was the hardest song to write?"
"I think.." Y/N's right pointer finger was pointed out as she leaned on her hand in thought. "I think "ghostin.'"
"Why's that?" Zach asked.
Instead of answering, Y/N used both her hands to gesture a pushing motion, her palms facing towards the audience as she made a soft facial expression. Zach laughed slightly in understanding, changing the topic to something a little less sensitive.
"Did Tom help you write any of it?" he asked.
Y/N smiled at the mention of Tom, her heart rate increasing. She knew Tom was watching (and listening), live with the rest of the world, so she tried not to give him anything to tease her about.
"For sure," she laughed.
"What's so funny?" Zach asked, laughing along.
"Nothing-!" Y/N blushed. "If I tell you the song, listening to it will- oh god," she put her face in her hands in pure embarrassment.
"What's the song about?" Zach laughed.
"We're.. open to interpretation?" Y/N stated, though it came out as more of a question.
"What's the song?" Someone from the audience asked.
"Track.. seven," Y/N laughed. "Track titles out in a week," she grinned slyly. Everyone grunted playfully in result, knowing they'd have to wait to find out.
"So he helped you write it?' Zach continued. "Or did he like-"
"Well he was the inspiration," she answered, "and when I started writing it he came in and helped me write it like- halfway through, maybe three-fourths of the way through."
a / n : the song is called 'make up' and its about really filthy make up sex, so there's that
"So," Zach smiled and eyed her knowingly. "You and Tom. You're still engaged?"
At this, everyone's ears perked up, their mouths shutting as they waited for her response. Y/N's mouth was open and about to say something, but nothing came out for the first few seconds.
"Uhm," she glanced around the room, eyes moving but face stilled in it's position. "No- no we're not engaged anymore."
At this, she heard quiet gasps and small murmurs erupt throughout the room, and the phone that had questions from fans who were live-tweeting started blowing up.
Tom, who was actually watching from the studio building, was also wide eyed, mouth open slightly. Harrison punched his arm lightly, removing Tom from his trance as both of them continued watching Y/N.
"What-" Zach followed-up immediately. "What happened? Did you call it off or di-"
"Well," Y/N was trying to suppress a smile. "When people get engaged, they have to get married at some point," she said, showing off her ring.
Zach had put a hand over his chest in relief, the audience breathing out sighs of relief as the room exploded with joy and congratulatory messages.
"The wedding," Zach started after things quieted down. "It never surfaced online from the paps or anything."
"Yeah," Y/N said. "Tom and I are so fucking thankful for that. It was a private venue -- only family and close friends attended."
"Where was the honeymoon?" Someone sitting in front of her asked.
"Uhm- Venice. Venice, Italy," Y/N blushed at the thought of it.
"Where's Tom now?" The fans went on. "Is he filming? Or taking a break for the beginning of the marriage? Or-"
Y/N's laugh interrupted him, her smile finally showing. "He's, uh- he's in the building," she admitted.
At this, noise grew wildly in excitement, multiple requests to get Tom in the interview being proposed. Y/N turned to Zach, silently asking him if he would allow it.
"As long as it's okay with the two of you," Zach smiled. "We have more than enough microphones."
Y/N laughed, pulling her phone out of her pocket and ringing up Tom.
"Hey, sweets," he said. The phone was on speaker, and the audience awed at the pet name.
"Hi," Y/N replied timidly. "I'm not sure if you saw, but the-"
"I'm on my way. Harrison's giving me directions, so he'll probably be coming too," Tom said into the phone.
Everyone was watching (listening to) the couple intently, awing again at them.
"Okay," Y/N smiled. "I'll see you inna bit."
"Mhmm," Tom hummed, Harrison's voice lightly speaking in the background. "See you in five, angel. Love you."
"Love you too, Tommy," Y/N said, hanging up the phone and looking at it, a little lost in thought and forgetting about the current interview she was in.
"You two seem so happy," Zach interrupted her daydream.
"Oh, for sure," Y/N said. "It's like a never-ending honeymoon phase, yanno?" She smiled again. Zach nodded along, the rest of the audience doing the same, and then a producer from behind the camera informed them that both Tom and Harrison had arrived. Two microphones, both with wires coming out from the bottom of them, were placed on the open space on the couch, between the host and Y/N. And then, both boys were sitting down, smiles adorning their faces.
Tom had kissed her cheek, a simple gesture that had Y/N blushing wildly.
"Hello, boys," Zach greeted them.
Both replied with a simple 'hi,' and the interview went on, only this time, the questions were more open for each person to answer.
"What is it liked being in a relationship with someone who's schedule is all over the place?" Zach asked, glancing between Tom and Y/N. "Actors and artists have it pretty rough. I- I can imagine it being.. pretty difficult to fully commit to a relationship and not see each other for months at a time."
"Of course," Tom replied first, his accent thick as his chocolate curls fell on part of his face. "There's always rough patches, but for me, the peak of my career had really just, 'ended' you could say, and being with Y/N was like the first step to settling down. It was like I could fully support her from the front row, instead of on the sidelines like I always have." Tom blindly grabbed her hand and held it in his lap, linking their fingers together as he smiled softly. Both boys turned to her to see if she would respond.
"Uhm," she laughed quietly. "Not that his career his totally over, because his schedule gets more flexible the older he gets as an actor, but it's pretty much that. It's hard to support somebody else and do your job one hundred percent. When Tom was at his 'peak,' my music was kind of.. on hold for awhile," Y/N smiled. "It was a bit rough at times, but I think it's better to give your all to one thing, rather than trying to satisfy everybody at once. I was with Tom during filming, attending premieres and press tours too, and now I think the roles have just reversed."
"You guys really have your shit together," Zach commented. The couple laughed, looking at each other because they knew he was right. "Well, I hope you two are really happy together, and I wish you both long & wonderful lives."
"Oh, thank you Zach. God, don't make me cry," Y/N said, jokingly wiping her eyes with a smile on her face.
Tom laughed at her too before replying. "Really, though. Thank you, mate," Tom smiled.
"I think all the fans can agree that we need more [ your ship name ] content!" Zach exclaimed.
"We're playing 'Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts' on the Late Late Show tomorrow, so keep an eye out for that," Tom said nonchalantly.
"What?" Y/N said, bewildered. "I never signed up for that!" She laughed.
Tom smirked, "Surprise?"
#tom holland#tom holland fluff#tom holland x famous reader#tom holland x celebrity!reader#tom holland x singer!reader#tom holland x arianagrande!reader#tom holland fanfic#tom holland fic#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland oneshot#tom holland imagine#tom holland blurb#tom holland fluffy#tom holland hc#tom holland angst#tom holland smut#peter parker#peter parker x reader#ariana grande#thank u next#harrison osterfield#tom x reader#tom holland x fem!reader#tom holland and you#tom
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Wip Re-Introduction: War of Wrath
❛The war you cannot win is the only one worth fighting.❜
♧ Title: War of Wrath [WoW]
♧ Status: First Drafting
♧ Point of View: Third Person, flexible between a few
♧ Genre: Fantasy, Action, Drama, Epic, LGBTQ+
♧ Warnings: This story revolves around injustice and genocide. In this story, there is going to be a long-lasting war and the consequences of ancestral actions. This isn't about the genocide and injustice in itself, but a story of the oppressed fighting back and reclaiming what they're due. There will be toxic and abusive relationships, particularly family; finding an escape from them, and healing from the trauma. There will be homophobia, transphobia, misogyny, and colonization. There will be a glorification of genocide, colonization, torture, racism, abuse, and maintaining a cycle of oppression; there will be demonization of fighting back and speaking against the oppression. This is a story of ethics vs morals. It is not for their faint of heart. It is going to be dark, but there will be a happy ending.
♧ Featuring: The majority of the characters will be LGBTQ+, from pansexual, homosexual, to asexual; genderfluid, agender/nonbinary, and transgender. Each character is complex and morally grey. Yes, they will do things that are blatantly terrible, or actively good. Overall, they will be morally grey and questionable at best; every character will suffer from having to decide what is more important: ethics or morals. There will be complex world-building, from both the universe it takes place in, and the religious pantheons brought up. The religions brought up will be polytheistic and animism-themed. The romance between the major characters will be slow-burn enemies to friends to lovers, and them learning to love themselves through one another; they will be forming a found family. There will be an exploration on generational healing, and unlearning toxic, and bias believes. There are going to be dragons, humans, and a few other fantasy-inspired races.
♧ Setting: there will be encompassing of territories and areas explored. Few inspirations are Mongolia, The Incan Empire, Viking Scandinavia, Ancient Greece.
♧ Synopsis:
In Gri'lian, the gods have vanished and the mortals overstep their boundaries.
Long have been the years of war between humans and dragekind. Humans kill the dragons for territory and control; the drage kill the humans in self-defense. As time goes on, history proves the humans will not stop. They revel in the war they have instigated, they thrive on the power and authority they have taken by force.
It has been proven the gods have abandoned their creation, they are nowhere to be found. If they will not stop the humans… who will? Who will place the world back into natural balance?
What happens when a single dragon decides enough is enough? He makes the call, if the gods will not intervene, new gods need to be born. He alone begins a collection of misfits, the most qualified to end the terror of humans and reinstate the drages; those he can trust to bring a new era.
They make their peace and take on their new role. They carve into their skin their sacred oath and adorn themself in the paint of their ancestors. Together, they go to war against the human. They go to war and fight like no one has before. They turn the tides of war and make a name for themself.
They have won every battle, but the war isn’t won.
The only way to win the war, they come to realize in time, is not through violence, but through peace. By living in harmony with the human, not in war. They have to learn to live with the humans, to share the world and their lives with one another.
♧ Tease
Faith through fire, peace through power; our souls bear written this vernacular. Our intentions we laid bare, yet all still cower in fear. To absent gods you make your prayers…. when we answer, you acclaim we give scare? If the help you wish to shun, why should we give chance upon chance to you anymore?
We fight for family, for it is our duty and sacred honor; with blood and fire, we will show you the price of war.
A battle you wished for, know a war you shall now pay for. The natural order we shall restore. Know, although bound to be ignored, our actions are only sincere. This war, by your hand, was it made so severe… For pride, a glut of greed, you were made a whore. Nay, your life we will not spare.
Why?
Why of your lives will we not spare?
Perhaps a reminder is required.
The waters have turned red, from the blood we have bled. Of you, we pled, yet our mothers and fathers and our brothers and our sisters you behead. Of daughters and sons, you have killed.
Your acts you dare to justify, lacking a shred of dignity?!
You have denied us as your friend, with caution you should have tread… for now? You are dead.
A warning:
They say, the red sun marks death, signal bloodshed beneath the light of its brothers and sisters in the passing darkness… know, for you it is coming.
♧ Excerpt:
“… Father.” With only respect, Svihar greeted.
Violkoa shifted his hold onto his fan, blowing a light gust with it. “Svihar.” He greets back, in a tone that was less than kind. “You are a rare one to come, what is it?”
It was no lie. He paid more respect to Kallai, sharing in her beliefs. But still… Here he was, kneeling before his father. “I seek your blessings, Father.”
That scowl so neatly woven upon Violkoa’s features nearly lightened. Bemused. He cocked an eyebrow and closed his fan. “What do you seek blessings for?”
“An honour battle.” Svihar drew his head forward, daring his eyes from the floor to meet Violkoa’s.
Now that scowl faltered, the rare smirk pulled onto that stoic and weathered face. “An honour battle?” Violkoa’s repeated. “With whom?”
“Whomever I desire.” It is a bite, with fangs drawn. Realizing his mistake, Svihar lowers his head and draws in a breath through his nose. “All that have broken their oaths to you, those that cannot adhere to order, the ones who know no law…”
Violkoa unfurled his fan. He shifts the arm he holds around himself and stands, fanning himself.
Silence.
Svihar keeps his head low, awaiting a response. He knows better than to raise his head and tempt a response. He waits. He waits.
He waits until the fan snaps shut in harshness, a gust of wind sent through the chambers. The fan disappears into Violkoa’s sleeve as his arm raises, he plucks the center spine from the bun he wears and strides forward. He does not drop to his knees, but he lowers himself so he may spin his son’s hair into a similar bun and tuck the spine into it.
To his feet, Violkoa rises. He turns upon his heels, his quilled tail dragging behind him as he disappears back into the temple. He gives a simple command, as Svihar rises to his feet, only when Violkoa no longer is in sight: “Go to war, My Son.”
♧ Characters:
— The Lovers
Kaithrine Eve Flora; The First Dragonlord
Female • She/Her • Human • Pansexual • Demiromantic
The young woman that rules Virta'Niliq. Ruler from a young age, Kaithrine has matured faster than she should have. She understands the way of the world more than the adults around her do. As she ages, she meets her future husband, and she becomes the heroine of a story as old as time when she joins forces with the league of dragons that plague the humans. She leads by example and creates history as its known.
Eoin'fynil Sirenheart; The Blood Taint
Amab • Agender • He/They • Water Dragon • Pansexual • Demiromantic
A man with a legacy to uphold: his grandmother is the refined ruler of a sea with a ruthless reputation, his father is an enigma with a merciless reputation…. Eoin'fynil is a nomad, trying to put a distance with his family to raise his son. He puts distance with his family, but he can’t outrun a young girl with high ambitions, and his role in history.
— The Order
Intersex • Genderqueer • He/They • Rainbow Dragon • Asexual • Aromantic
Svihar Hopebringer; The Father of the Order
The drage who has brought on a revolution. Although he carries a ruthless reputation to his name- demonized by the humans- he’s a very compassionate man. He cares immensely and expresses deeply. He’s faithful till the end to his kindred and protective of the family he has created.
Ryltar Flametongue; The Cinder King
Transmasc • Agender • He/They • Fire Dragon • Grey-Asexual • Demi-Homoromantic
The one Svihar trusts the must, and the drage all know stand as his favorite child. He’s a drage without compassion that will raze everything before his eyes to ashes, if it means winning the war. He is one the humans fear, as they know he has no mercy to give to them for their crimes.
Dyiare Seawraith; The Wraith of the Sea
Transfem • She/Her • Water Drage • Grey-Asexual • Demi-Homoromantic
The grandmother of Eoin'fynil, known as one of the Sages of the Sea. She’s a woman that doesn’t smile, her mind fixed only on her responsibilities. She’s serious and stern, she has no room to relax and laugh.
Syvtnr Venomtongue; The Enchantress of Reckoning
Afab • Nonbinary • She/They • Nature Dragon • Polyamorous Pansexual • Aromatic
A drage known to masquerade as a human. Famed for her beauty, she is a seductress who uses that weapon to bring humans to their knees. Apathetic, she does not regret using her tacts of manipulation to secure victory for her kindred. And yet, it’s her price to bear few see beyond her beauty, she’s not seen as a individual, but often only as a tool.
Ayros Golden-Father; The Heart of the Order
Amab • Agender • He/They • Light Dragon • Polyamorous Pansexual • Polyamorous Demiromantic
The trusted advisor, the one Svihar will most frequently turn to when he needs the truth, or advice. A quiet man, Ayros will keep to himself and not offer his unsolicited advice. He will most frequently stand back and observe; he will make himself known, his authority acknowledged, when necessary.
My'fel Frigidbane; The White Shadow
Amab • Demiboy • He/They • Snow Dragon • Bisexual • Aromantic
Simple-minded compared to the rest, My'fel is a drage with a one-track mind. He cares for his basic needs: food, sleep, reproduction, and the art of hunting. He’s ill-tempered and reclusive, he doesn’t care for companionship, and nothing seems to be able to make him change his ways.
Nyhmar Bronze-Heart; The Righteousheart
Afab • Nonbinary • They/Them • Earth Dragon • Demisexual • Demiromantic
Viewed as Benevolent, Nyhmar is anything as. Perhaps the most bloodthirsty of their family, they have earned a reputation for being amicable and approachable. History forgets how they reigned as a warlord before they joined Svihar, and they demand the blood of all humans, deeming no one innocent of their ancestors’ crimes.
Rauor Savage-Heart; The Heartless Beast
Amab • Agender • They/He • Fang Dragon • Pansexual • Aromantic
The youngest of the family and it shows. He follows closely in the footsteps of his more heartless siblings, particularly My'fel. Known for his sadistic streak and apathetic nature, Rauor is an individual that never quite learned that you don’t play with your food.
Za-Ylviar Nightstalker; The Eternal Nightmare
Afab • Agender • They/Them • Energy Dragon • Asexual • Aromantic
The most revered of their family by the humans. They favor the terror Rauor instills, the flavor of death Ryltar enjoys, and the dread Zivaryz embodies. They are brutal, erratic, dangerous. No one believes they are capable of compassion and thread with caution when their name is evoked.
Clyte Starforger; He Who Lights The Way
Male • He/Him • Star Dragon • Asexual • Aromantic
Compared to his siblings, Clyte is harmless. He’s not violent, nor does he care for blood. He enjoys mischief, causing problems and reveling in watching others trip over their own feet. He’s a trickster, to put it plain.
Zivaryz Endbringer; He Who Will Destroy The World
Intersex • Agender • They/He • Bone Dragon • Asexual • Aromantic
Viewed as an object, a weapon, Zivaryz is not viewed as a living and breathing individual. Although a dragon, both human and dragekind will vy to possess the weapon that is Zivaryz. Known to destory everything they touch, they will wither and drain the life of all things they can. A valuable weapon to have in a war.
L'ymra Spiritwalker; They Who Know All
Afab • Genderfluid • They/She/He • Spirit Dragon • Asexual • Aromantic
Perhaps the most soft of their family, L'myra is not a fighter, they do not care for blood and war. They desire peace, harmony. They wish to see the land heal, and the mistakes and crimes of the past be acknowledged. There is a long way to recovery, but they are adamant it will happen one day.
Blym Serenescales; The Guardian Beneath the Skies
Intersex • Genderqueer • They/Them • Air Dragon • Demisexual • Demiromantic
The most akin to their father, Blym puts family and responsibilities before all else. They hold the goals Svihar has set out for them. They aspire to be honorable and never be swayed, no matter the trouble they face for keeping a positive outlook on life.
Taglist:
WOW: @lend-your-lungs-to-me, @wannabeauthorzofija, @northernrosewritings, @shadeshadow234, @necros-writings, @rhikasa, @nyctophobiaandroses
BOTH: @cecilsstorycorner, @little-boats-on-a-lake, @hazard-writes, @egg-shark
GENERAL: @endlesshourglass, @writerray, @poore-choice-of-words, @primusesgiantmetalballbearings, @alexwritesfiction
#wip intro#wip introduction#my writing#fantasy#fantasy writer#writeblr#writing community#writer community#writeblr community#original writing#writers of tumblr#writers on tumblr#original story#dragons#epic fantasy#lgbtq+#my wips#morri's collection#wip: WoW#in the midst of chaos there is queue#fantasy author#it requires a trigger warning on its own#i'm not here to gloss over the repercussions of colonization#found family#dark fantasy
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Let's Dance (part 1)
Charecters : Jake and fem (mc) pairing. The DW group and a few imaginative Charecters.
Genre: Romance, fluff and comedy
Summary: It's an AU, where everyone from the group are high school students. They all are members of a dance group who are practicing for the annual function competition. The DW couple dance group.
Author's note at the end.
*music plays in the background*
- Ok, let's start 1..2..3.....1..2...3.....1...2-
- aaaahh!..... *Alex falls down on the floor*
-oh my God Alex! Are you okay?!
You ask visibly shocked and panicked after seeing your dance partner twisting his leg, falling to the ground the next moment and wincing in pain.
- Hannah! Call the teachers now. I think he's got a sprain.
You say crouching beside him and helping him to his legs.
* The teachers arrive and carry Alex to the medical room*
- oh my God. I just hope he is fine and not badly injured.
You say
- I hope so too. Hannah says.
You and all your friends in the group wait outside the medical room to hear from your teachers.
After a few minutes of waiting, your dance teacher finally arrives and mentions that, He's got a sprain and he won't be able to dance properly for the next few days.
You all go to his room to check his condition.
- Hey guys. He says with a sad smile.
I'm sorry Mc but I don't think I would be able to dance with you. You'll have to look for a new partner.
You crouch next to him saying
-It's okay. I'm just glad the injury is not severe and that you'll recover soon.
After chatting and gossiping with him for half an hour, you and your friends leave him to get some rest.
- what are we gonna do now? You ask Hannah and the group.
- we don't have anyone else to replace Alex. All other boys are already in some other group and the few who are left are either too blunt or too rough. Says Jessy.
Everyone starts thinking as of what to do now. You were about to say that you'll quit when suddenly Hannah speaks loudly clapping her hands.
- I've got an idea, as of who will partner up with Mc.
Everyone stare at Hannah questioning.
- I think my brother will perfectly fit in the role. He doesn't know much about couple dance but I'm sure Mc will teach him. Hannah says giving a wink to you.
You blush at the mention of Jake. Everyone in the group knows that you have crush on Hannah and Lilly's half-brother Jake.
- uh... that computer nerd. Really?
Dan grumbles visibly annoyed.
- so what? He's good at what he does. His dance partner Lilly says while nudging him with her elbow.
- so?? What do you think Mc? Hannah asks.
- umm.... I think...If Jake will agree.., then why not.
You stutter shyly.
- OK then. Let's ask Jake. He won't be able to deny me.
Hannah says while pulling you with her to Jake's classroom.
You both enter the class to see Jake focused on his computer and typing something.
-Hey big bro! Hannah says with a bright smile.
He turns his head to greet Hannah. But when his eyes meet yours, you both just stare at each other. You both break your gaze blushing when Hannah coughs to get his attention.
- Enough staring guys. Now let's come to the topic. Hannah says with a teasing smile on her face.
-uh... ummm... Hi Hannah. You wanted something? Jake says in embarrassment that he was caught staring at you.
- Actually yes. We want you to pair up with Mc for our upcoming annual function. Her dance partner Alex got a sprain this morning and so he won't be able to dance. Hannah said.
- but I don't know how to dance. Argues Jake.
- Please big Bro. I beg you. Mc is a good dancer but she won't be allowed to dance without a partner. It's a couple dance, she can't dance alone.
-But Hann-
- Please Jake... You speak looking him in the eyes.
He huffs but then finally agrees to it.
- yay!! Hannah cheers and leaves the room to you two.
- Thanks Jake. It really means a lot. But if you are not comfortable with it you can tell me. There's no pressure. You say to him in an understanding tone.
- No, it's okay. I'll pair up with you. It's just that I don't know much about dance. Jake says blushing.
- Hey, I'll teach you, don't worry. We'll be a great partner.
You wink at him. You both chat for a little while then you leave him to his work after telling him about the schedule of the dance practice.
______________
*In the practice room*
You were stretching and doing a little workout before practicing to warm yourself a little and become more flexible.
When you turned around you saw Jake standing at the doorway staring at you. You cough a little make him come out of his little daydreaming.
- Hey! I'm here. I hope I'm not late. He says.
- No, of course not. I just came a little early for warm up.
So...um..... Why don't you change into something comfortable. Some clothes are kept over there, in the closet.
Jake glances down at his black hoodie and jeans then nods and leave the room to change.
When he comes back, you both start practicing.
You both were dance practicing. But from what it looked from outside it was more of him stumbling and falling over you and stepping on your toes.
-aah! Ouch!...
- I'm so sorry again Mc. I suck at dancing. He mumbles before moving away.
-Hey, it's okay. It's your first time. Everyone stumbles when they do this for the first time. In fact I think you are better than others. You assure him.
- Really? He asks.
- Yes really. When I first started dancing I was really bad at it. I stumbled over and fell on the floor for God knows how many times. Atleast you are better than me.
- OK OK. ... enough flattery let's continue. He says.
He holds your one hand and the other snakes behind your back on your waist. You hold his one hand and keep the other on his shoulder and continue practicing.
*music plays in the background *
- OK, 1... 2....3......1....2...3....1- aaahhh!!
He steps on your toes so hard that you wince in pain and fall behind pulling him over you. What happens next is you lying on the floor with him on top of you. You both just stare into each other's eyes.
*Everyone in the room turns around at the sound and stares at you both surprised.*
Jessy covers her and her partner, Richy's eyes. Lily, Hannah and her boyfriend blush
You both only come to senses and realize what's happening when Dan grumbles - get yourself a room.
Jake awkwardly removes himself from you and mumbles sorry, with you following him in the aplogy process. You both look around and see some of your friends staring. Before you could explain the situation everyone starts laughing.
Jake and you just blush brightly and both look at the floor to avoid further embarrassment.
- Our computer boy knows romance too. Dan grumbles.
You give him a death stare and tell him to shut up
- uh...ummm.... I think our practice for today is over. We can meet tomorrow to continue. You mumble in embarrassment.
Jake just nods and then you both leave the dance room.
From the next day you both decide to practice somewhere more private so you both won't have to feel embarrassed with others staring at you.
Both of yours practice continued for the next few weeks before the annual function. Of course stumbling and falling over one another wasn't just a one time thing. You both made mistakes at starting but then you both became perfect in swinging your hips and moving your legs on the rhythm. The dance practice together brought you two closer to one another. You started spending more and more time with him.
You both would leave the class together chatting and smiling, go to the nearby cafe together and sometime you both just hold each other's hands and stroll in the park.
This dance practice definitely brought you two closer. You sometimes even wished to be his girlfriend. The others of course noticed your behaviour and would often tease you about this.
____________________
The day finally came. The day of annual function. Several competitions were held. Group dance competition, solo dance, singing, drama, dance drama and many more.
All the members of your group collected on the backstage. Everyone were holding their partner's hand.
They all were nicely dressed. Girl's were in knee length dress and boys wore shirts paired up with trousers or jeans.
Your eyes kept on drifting on Jake's. He was wearing a deep blue shirt with black jeans . Jake was also just staring at your beauty. You wore a shimmery red dress which reached just a bit above your knee. You had a pearl necklace around your neck and a silver bracelet around your wrist.
- Now our next group of dancers are requested to come on the stage and enthrall us with their performance. This is a couple dance which will fill our atmosphere with love and romance. Please welcome them with a huge round of applause. The host announces.
* followed by a huge applause*
- looks like it's our turn. Let's go. Hannah says.
Everyone nods in agreement and moves to the direction of stage.
- I'm nervous. Jake says.
- It's okay. You don't have to be nervous. We are the best team. You squeeze his hand a little to reassure him.
Everyone in the group takes their respective position to start performing. The music plays in the background and everyone starts their dance.
After a few minutes,
*music plays in the background *
- I'm getting nervous again. Jake whispers when you both were swinging your hips and moving to the rhythm.
- It's okay. Just look me in the eyes and forget the rest of the world. Just focus on us and the music. Your body will automatically move. You say him sweetly.
You yourself were nervous but then you both just followed your advice and stared into each other's eyes.
You both don't know when the time passed. You both were so focused on each other that you didn't even realize that the music was coming to it's end.
You only realized it when you heard applause and cheering from the background.
The ending song played..... you all swiftly performed the ending steps, bowed and left the dance stage when the music came to an end.
The anchor continued
* followed by a huge round of applause*
- wow that was indeed a mesmerising performance. It filled the air with love and roma-....
The background chatter continues when you all come back stage.
Everyone just starts chatting hysterically with their partners about their performance. They laugh, chat and even worries whether their performance was good enough to win. Jessy even starts arguing with Dan, Richy and Thomas. Hannah and lily are in their own world chatting and giggling like kids.
When everyone is busy with their own stuff, Jake suddenly hugs you mumbling - I was so scared and nervous. I was sure that I would stumble and ruin our performance but you really helped. I can't believe that it's over and I didn't got a heart attack. Jake says laughing in your arms.
You return his hug pressing your head on his shoulder saying
- We were really good. I don't care if we win or lose, I'm happy that we gave our best.
- But I would prefer winning this competition than losing. You say laughing.
You both separate from each other and join the group in their non stop rambling.
-------------
Your whole group waits in the audience room desperately waiting for the results to be announced.
- Jessy will you please stop tapping your feet on the ground. Don't you know nervousnes and anxiety are contagious..... Richy grumps.
After about half an hour, the host stands on the stage announcing the winners.
- That moment has come for which everyone were waiting for. Our judges have decided the winners from all categories of performances.
* The host opens the envelope, taking out a glossy sheet of paper*
- So..... from solo singing we have two winners. The first one is ........ Amalya from 'rock n roll' and the second one is Mark from 'slow tides'. Give a huge round of applause for our winners.....
The award giving session continues untill it finally comes to dances performances.
- Now it's for our dancers to get their awards. From solo dancers we have again two winners. They are............Leslie smith and Maria Blake.
- Now comes the announcement of winners from group dancers. We have seven groups from which only one group would be the winner. So, are you all ready??? The host shouts creating an atmosphere of suspense.
* The audience cheers and whistles*
- So, from group dancers the winner group is.............. The couple dancers of DW group......
* the audience shouts, whistles and clap their hands in approval and excitement*
You and your group rushes to the stage when you all hear that your group has won the dance competition. None of you are able to control your excitement. You all happily recieve the award enjoying the moment. When you all finally get off the stage, there's a big round of happy chattering and body crushing hugs.
Jake still looks surprised. He still can't believe that they have won the competition.
A/n:I wanted to post it as a one shot. But it exceeded the word limits, so I'll have post it in two parts. The second part will be posted as soon as I have completed it's editing.😉😅
And please let me know how it is. I have changed my style of writing. This fiction really took a lot of my time and effort. Please let me know😅.
Advices for improvement are always acceptable and appreciated.💕
#duskwood#duskwood everbyte#jake and mc#duskwood mc#everbyte studios#i am jake#too long😅#duskwood group
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