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ashes-and-inks · 2 years

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A series of defining events in your relationship with Steve as friends with benefits, all while having a few more feelings than you bargained for.

(Angst, lack of communication, toxic relationship as a result)

Inspired by the track Maroon from Taylor Swift’s new Midnights album.

If someone told me I would be writing for Stranger Things six months ago I would probably be pretty puzzled.

But, since I am unable to consume media in a NORMAL way, it’s consumed me, and here we are. So, here, have this thing that’s been rotting my brain all day.

Find part 2 (Steve's perspective) here .

Nothing had ever been easy.

But that’s life, isn’t it? It isn’t supposed to be easy.

Maybe that’s why when you met him, it felt a lot like the wind had been knocked out of you.

He put you at ease. He moved and lived with such an air that was unfathomable to you. He was ease.

Sometimes you wondered if you weren’t viewing him through some sort of filter - often finding yourself blinking away the soft haze that settled around him whenever he smiled.

It was worse when that smile was directed at you - and for some reason, it had begun to be directed at you with a startling frequency.

“What’s so funny,” he had asked, that smile on his face (ease, ease, happiness, ease), one night while you were sprawled out across the hardwood floor of the living room in the apartment he shared with a friend.

You had been giggling sporadically, wondering if the cheap rosé the two of you pilfered from Robin’s side of the fridge had been bubbly after all - the fizzing in your chest inexplicable otherwise and certainly not the result of thinking about creating constellations on Steve’s skin with a golden sharpie: connecting the dots of his beauty marks you had, up to this point, only caught glimpses of.

“Nothin’,” You grinned up at him.

He had tilted his head in that infuriatingly lovely way that he often did when smiling down at you; hair falling forward just so, the corners of his lips curving up ever so slightly, warm eyes crinkling at the edges (home, home, happiness, home).

Later that night, after a long talk of being best friends and boundaries you realized, when Steve pressed his lips to yours for the first time, the fizzing in your chest was not, in fact, the result of Robin’s rose, or of the idea of drawing constellations on Steve’s skin, but a result of Steve himself. You knew it was much too late for you and your heart when you snuck from his room the next morning. The pleasant fizzing had permanently altered into an invisible tether that pulled at you, even as you pressed your lips to his cheek in a whispered farewell as you headed out for your 8:30 am class.

You had agreed to this.

You watched from down the bar, as Steve smiled down at another girl, another very pretty girl.

You had agreed to this.

“You know. You could always just… stop, right?”

Robin’s voice in your ear made you jump.

“W-what?”

She looked at you a little pityingly, and your skin crawled at the implication of her gaze.

“You can tell him you don’t want to do this anymore.”

Robin could be far too perceptive for her own good. It made it worse that you had grown to love her so much, knowing she was his friend, first.

“He might be a blind idiot, but I certainly don’t miss the way you look at him.”

You rounded on her, drink clenched tightly in one hand. “And how’s that?”

She was unphased, “lovingly. Longingly.”

You down the rest of your drink.

“Whatever. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A bright peal of laughter floated above the loud music. You cringed, unable to prevent your traitorous eyes from glancing over to where Steve was now leaning into the pretty girl, speaking lowly in her ear, words only meant for her. You wondered what he was saying to her. Something new? Or something he had practiced on you on the many nights you had fallen together, tangled and inextricable. She was blooming under his attention, the expression on her face, bashful and pleased; it was familiar to you, one your features had often worn, even as it became less and less common over the last few weeks.

“Right.” Robin’s voice brought you back to yourself. You scowled at her from the corner of your eye.

“Shut up.”

“I love Steve, but you deserve better than this.”

You sighed, the fight leaving you. You knew she was right.

Maybe that conversation with Robin was how you ended up here. Bewildered and lost, Steve staring at you, anger hanging over every part of his body in a way you had never seen before (Jealousy, stay, please, stay). You shook your head that couldn’t be right. What right did he have to be jealous?

“I don’t understand why you’re here, Steve?”

“Because he’s an ass, and you shouldn’t have even spoken to him, let alone actually agreeing to go on a date with him!”

You felt the anger rising in you with each passing moment that his form blocked the entrance of your apartment.

“I don’t remember asking your opinion.”

He looked as though he was fighting the urge to grab you. He crossed his arms across his chest, giving you an imperious look: as though he knew better.

“Well, you should have. I am your best friend, aren’t I?”

An incredulous laugh left you before you could stop it. It came out a little unhinged, and it was enough to stop Steve in his tracks. Some of his anger fell away for confusion to your reaction.

“Is that what I am, Steve? Your best friend, who you talk to about everything? Did you ask my opinion on all the women that you’ve flirted with? The women you’ve led to your bed on the nights you don’t call me?”

He almost looked surprised, before his brow settled further into a grimace.

“What the fuck do you know-” You didn’t wait for whatever tirade was about to fall from his parted lips; you’d been here too many times.

“Get out Steve.”

“ What?”

“Get. Out.”

“No!”

“Steve you are not welcome here right now, and I need to finish getting ready for my date.”

A flash of desperation flew across his features.

“Look, I’m sorry, I just, you know, worry about you and-”

You manage to maneuver your way around him to your front door, and open it, staring at him expectantly.

“Please leave, Steve.”

He stared a little helplessly before nodding his head, his eyes clouding. You knew that look meant he was internalizing, thinking hard about something. Those eyes you’d memorized met yours again as he moved past you (stay, stay, I’m sorry, please, stay), “I hope you have a good time.”

You didn’t have the time or energy to unpack all the layers of tone he placed so delicately behind those words.

It had taken some practice, but you learned to stop talking to each other.

Certainly, you still spoke, but nothing meant anything. Not anymore.

Steve Harrington no longer put you at ease.

The tether from that first night, despite it all, continued to grow tighter and tighter.

Seeing the small town in Indiana he’d grown up in, didn’t help loosen that tie.

Hawkins. Something about it, never having been there before yourself, felt familiar.

Perhaps it felt like Steve.

Felt like home.

You force yourself to look over at him from the passenger seat you’d spent hours in driving down to visit his parents for the weekend.

He’s already looking at you, a soft smile curving his mouth - a look in his eyes you hadn’t seen in a while (safe, safe, warmth, safe).

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

You feel your eyebrows raise, his gaze returns to the road, and you read the tension in his shoulders.

“For what?”

“For agreeing to come down with me; to be my human shield for the weekend.”

You blink, “of course.”

He had seemed so stressed about the weekend, that when the look of mischief dawned in his eyes when he proposed you come with him to hopefully redirect some of his parents' attention from him and his perceived failures, you could hardly deny him.

When could you ever?

“Of course. What are best friends for?”

You give him a half-hearted glare, “You’re literally only two months older than me.”

You hoped the bitterness you tasted didn’t bleed into the words.

“You’re the best best friend, kid.”

“Still makes me older, kid.”

There was the grin you hadn’t seen in a long time.

Maybe, you had thought to yourself, maybe this won’t be so bad.

It was much, much worse than you had prepared yourself for.

It was bad enough to watch Steve’s parents tear down his every accomplishment in their carefully practiced way, but then they turned their focus on you.

You had offered to help his mother after dinner, clearing the table and helping pack up the leftovers, and there in their perfectly arranged kitchen did she tell you what she really thought of you. How you’d never be good enough for her son; how he’d toss you aside like most things he found interest in. You swallowed it as gracefully as you could manage, not wanting to cause a scene and make things worse for Steve.

You bore, and you bore, and you bore until you couldn’t anymore.

It was really, just an offhand comment that hadn’t held much weight - his father, on Sunday morning, over breakfast asking Steve something or other about his “girlfriend,” (the man had avoided speaking directly to you the previous day as well - as though doing so would encourage you to stay longer. As though it might give you delusions of his approval of you for his son), and before his father had even finished his sentence, Steve made certain to correct him.

“She’s not my girlfriend; we’re just friends. I told you that on the phone when I said we’d be coming down.”

Steve had once again stolen your breath.

This time, in the absolute worst way.

You prevented yourself from clawing at your chest; from gasping aloud.

The tether was constricting.

You had been under the impression you were posing as his girlfriend; why were you there if not for that?

Perhaps you really were a human shield, not just for Steve against his parents, but for Steve to take practice swings at as well: to relieve his anger and frustrations of never being good enough.

You knew then, you’d never be good enough to Steve for Steve either.

You’d quietly excused yourself from the table, feigning illness, and packed your bag. You snuck out the back door without saying goodbye.

He had chased you down of course. You had taken a bus back from Hawkins to Chicago, and barricaded yourself in your apartment, nursing your bruised pride and swearing to yourself you were done with Steve Harrington.

You lasted a good while; you managed to continually dodge Steve anytime you might run into him, and avoided his phone calls for a good couple of weeks.

You didn’t know how to explain to him why you left.

You weren’t his girlfriend. But it didn’t mean it made hearing him say it, sounding so unbothered, hurt any less.

You hadn’t expected to nearly walk right into him when you left your apartment a little over two weeks after you ran.

He was leaning against the wall across from your unit, head snapping up at the sound of your door opening.

You blinked in surprise and felt heat rush to your cheeks, lips parting, as though to say something, anything to defend yourself. But nothing came out.

“Hi,” he said cautiously.

“Hi.”

“I miss you.”

You tried to ignore the tether’s pull at his confession.

“I… I missed you too.”

He straightened from the wall, relief clear across his features.

He moved quickly into your space, crowding you back into your apartment, shaping you to him, lips desperate against yours.

You let him guide you back into your space, fumbling to lock the door again, before leading you back between the sheets of your bed.

He had left a few hours later; the two of you had fallen back to speaking like you had before it felt like everything had shifted beneath your feet, and he stated he had to go get ready.

“For what?” You asked softly, playfully.

He hadn’t asked why you had left the weekend at his parents so suddenly.

You hadn’t offered an explanation.

“A date, actually,” he said as he slipped back into his shirt.

Your eyes fell shut. You cradled yourself against your pillow, the smell of him, enveloping you.

You felt yourself shatter, twice.

Once as he pressed his lips to your temple and said quietly, just for you to hear, “glad to have you back, kid.”

The second time at the sound of the front door shutting behind him as he went on to move through the world with ease like nothing was wrong.

“You were right, you know.”

You played with the straw in your drink, eyes tracking the condensation that rolled its way down the side of your glass, to find its home with the ring on the scarlet plastic table you sat at in the 24-hour fifties-styled diner you had met Robin at sometime shortly after midnight.

You were relieved when she answered the phone, and not Steve. You’re not sure what you would have done if Steve had answered.

“I’m right about a lot of things, you’re going to have to be more specific.” She spoke with a cheeky lilt, but her eyes were watching you carefully. It made you want to duck under the table.

You fought the urge to hide.

“About Steve.”

She stayed quiet, still looking at you, but with a look meant to comfort you. It encouraged you to keep talking.

“I think… I think I’m in love with him. I can’t keep doing this.”

“You know. For all the things I’d like to have been told I was right about, this was the last one I would have actually wanted.” She paused, looking thoughtful, before realization spread across her face.

“Are you friend-breaking-up with me right now?”

You wince, and look at her apologetically.

“Not permanently. I just… need some space from him right now.”

She groaned, “and we are, unfortunately, often a package deal, huh?” there was the briefest pause before Robin was speaking again, “I knew I should have stolen you away from that dingus the moment he introduced you to me.”

That surprised a laugh out of you.

Robin beamed, thankful to see you smile again. Lately it seemed like you had forgotten how to.

“Well, we can still hang out tonight, can’t we?”

You felt warmth grow in your chest for your friend.

“Tonight. Sure.”

If the only good thing you ever got from Steve Harrington was Robin Buckley, it was more than you could ever properly express your thanks for.

It had been three months, two weeks and four days since you had last spoken to Steve Harrington.

No, you weren’t counting.

(Yes you were).

You spent more nights in that time drowning in your sorrow, barely able to breathe at times, mourning the fading marks on your skin he had left behind that last time.

By this time they had completely gone, but you found yourself looking for them still in the mirror sometimes.

You had been dating.

You had been dating someone steadily.

He was nice. A little awkward, but his lack of ease, puts you at ease.

You were moving on. Moving forward. Moving away from him.

But he did always seem to be able to find you, even when you didn’t want to be found.

You looked down to escape the hollow feeling in your chest that rooted in his eyes. He held a bouquet of flowers in one hand, looking a little worse for wear. He noticed you looking, and held them out to you, voice hoarser than you think you’d ever heard him - "I saw them - roses - and thought of you."

It felt a little like deja vu, opening the door to find him, there, again.

He stood there in the doorway, light haloed around his head, drawing darker shadows beneath eyes you no longer recognized (sorry, sorry, please, sorry).

There was a pause.

He swallowed, then: "I'm so sorry."

You stared at the deep red flowers for a moment, wondering if you had it in you to tell him what he held weren't roses, but carnations.

But, you never had the strength to say no to him.

Never him.

You took them in hand feeling yourself being pulled back into his orbit once again. The tether you thought you had cut with communication made itself known once again, pulling, pulling, tearing you open until you were simply an exposed, sensitive, vulnerable nerve.

You realize, gazing back into his eyes and the fear and hope that mixed there, the gravity of him was far too strong to ever really tear yourself free.

You might have escaped once, but now, as you stood there, unable to tell him no, you had gotten far too close.

You wondered briefly who you'd be once this all burned to ash.

"Thank you. They're beautiful."

#Steve Harrington x Reader #Steve Harrington x you #Stranger Things #Steve Harrington #Robin Buckley #ambiguous ending #Stranger Things Fic #Angts #cw:angst #cw: toxic relationships

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heir-less · 1 year

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Sussex squad and Wales stans have extreme views on W&K marriage. On one hand the two hate each other and are barely able to tolerate each other and on the other hand two college sweethearts still in love after close to 20 years together, I don't think any of it true.

First I don't think the two were ever truly in love. I think they loved each other and William saw in Kate a woman who would conform and fit into his idea of a consort and Kate wanted the position. I don't think she was the last one standing or a default choice like some of her critics like to say. In the first few years you can see the complicity, the friendship between them.

At the same time William cold and snappy behavior that we see more of now has always been there but she would roll her eyes at him give him side eyes none of this now.

Something obviously happened I'm not sure it's about a specific affair ( because I don't think he's ever been really faithful to her). They're never been really lovey dovey but there was a warmth between them that's rare to see nowadays. They're more distant and cold and act like co workers.

I feel that both sides look to feel vindicated on the state of William and Kate's marriage. Waleses are constantly looking for PDA and signs of a fourth pregnancy because it would confirm that William and Kate are living a happy family life without the Sussexes, a future King with his adoring future Queen. On the other hand, I feel like people who resonate with the Sussexes really, really want the Waleses to "get theirs". The marriage is in trouble due to cheating or a mutual dislike would vindicate them by proving that Harry and Meghan's main detractors who are often touted as superior are actually misreable together.

I think William and Kate probably did love each other and got along well, but in a way that was savvier than most regular couples, where this is a transaction of status and desires between the two. I don't think William would have strung Kate along for almost a decade if he didn't care about her. People say that William was grooming her to make sure she was "Queen material" but there are hundreds of Sloane Ranger-types from high-born families who would have instantly understood the assignment and conformed, like you say. William probably would have had an easier time with someone born into the same class bracket as him. However, I think William specifically wanted Kate for the role and was willing to draw out the relationship until he felt she was ready. Kate, obviously spent a lot of time conforming to William and making herself presentable.

I'm personally not into body language analysis and I fully admit that my perspective is biased, but in recent years I think William has been really cold and neglectful towards Kate publicly. I'm not sure what has triggered this, if he wasn't faithful or what, but I get frustrated watching them as a couple nowadays because it feels so one-sided to me. Kate is always the one to wait for William, to look at him, to consider his presence, and she's given almost nothing in return. There have been moments where Kate shows attitude or distaste with him, but they seem like rare displays of frustration with William they seem unprovoked and constant. Like you said, there was a warmth and natural compatibility that was present in the earlier years of their marriage. Now, it's just gone.

Also, it's paired with this hint-hint-nudge-nudge style of reporting from the ROTA and other commentators that is very passive-aggressive and snarky about the state of the Wales's marriage. Not to mention, the response from the palace to rumours about marriage breakdowns has been anything but dignified silence, in fact they sort of botched the way these rumours have been handled by threatening legal action and demanding things mentioning Rose get edited/removed. It's this combination of things that raises my suspicions.

I don't really hope to see Wales's marriage fall apart (I don't hope that for anyone, really, it's just sad) because it will literally make things worse for everyone in the royal family, including three young children and even Meghan tangentially because she is blamed for literally everything that goes wrong (remember when Autumn left Peter Phillips and it was dubbed that she was "following Meghan's lead"?). Right now, however, things are just painful and I have no idea how Wales stans (especially the longtime pre-2015 girls) are getting the same satisfaction watching them. When you're not focusing on how stiff and lifeless they are as a couple, you're focusing on them sucking at acknowledging deeper social issues like racism and colonization and poverty. It's just painful.

#answered #anonymous #relationships and romance #william #kate

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quinnfebrey · 2 years

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Please I want ALL your thoughts from your initial stick season listen

omg okay it’s insanely long so i’m putting it under a read more but here you go!! a little bit of personal stuff a little bit of song parallels and just a lotta thoughts

also as a side note for anyone, azlyrics is way more accurate than genius

and above the cut i’ll just put my current top 5: she calls me back, strawberry wine, all my love, come over, orange juice

all my love:

ahh tears on song 1 ok so it’s like that

i needed this in late 2019/early 2020

no winter coat could keep out the cold of your atmosphere / and at the end of it all i just hope that your scars heal / we’d shake the frame of your car, now i know your name but not who you are / it’s okay, there ain’t a drop of bad blood / it’s still out here, you got all my love / i looked so confident babe i swear i was scared to death /

such a good song for having maybe a rough ending w someone but then getting older and realizing it was just the situation, had nothing to do with them, and being able to think abt them fondly

all my love & strawberry wine r holding hands <3

she calls me back:

oh the production picks upppp

the pre chorus FUCKS

if only i could wake you up / if only i could fall asleep /

two parallel lines / - it’s like that artist’s drawing of different lines to represent different relationships??? like an x for a one night stand, a something like -o- for losing someone and then finding therm again. but parallel?? i’m gonna puke !

this is so :)))))) me and my childhood best friend in another universe!! could’ve had it All, but i guess it wasn’t in the cards for us this time. i think we deserved to have things work out but that’s ok. should i send this to her? no def not

there was heaven in your eyes / i was not baptized / - this is so me projecting but i’m not christian and she is/it was v important to her mom so that Hits

also there’s something to be said for being a kid and loving someone so much that it almost feels reverent. i always just felt so lucky to be around her and spend time with her and sometimes it was good and made me feel special that she wanted to be my best friend & sometimes it was bad and just made me feel unworthy

lost for a long time, two parallel lines / everything’s alright when she calls me back /

come over:

i’m in the business of losing your interesting and i turn a profit each time we speak /

the guitar tab line is gorgeous

but i promise you, darling, with the view in the morning, you won't ever go back /

this is a song for the kids in school that were friends Everyone and therefore they were also friends with No One

somebody i’m gonna be somebody people want / - i hope so!!

new perspective:

oh oh oh

first of all this song fucks

second of all i’m Sure this is a song he meant is a continuation of cape elizabeth

glue myself shut + new perspective

you and all your new perspective / i stared at your packed bags and asked what the hell you were meaning

wish i could shut it in a closet / all of your old clothes are still in the hall of my building

and drag you back down / + and if i glued myself shut you’d find your way in

this song is making me v emotional i think i’d be a wreck if i grew up in a small town

everywhere everything:

slow build but mmfff

we didn’t know that the sun was collapsing til the seas rose and the buildings came crashing /

ahhhh

you ever have smth end bc neither of you paid enough attention to making sure the problems didn’t take over bc you didn’t expect there to be any problems and then suddenly there were So Many and it was just Over

and so now you will forever over compromise by finding problems that don’t exist just to make sure you have a solution so it never happens again

hozier vibes

orange juice:

intro tab reminds me of caves

mmm no thoughts

ahhh the bridge okay okay i have thoughts and they’re giving maine

you said ‘my heart has changed and my soul has changed’ / are we all just crows to you now? / are we all just pulling you down? / we’re just glad you could visit /

(now that you made your change was your soul rediscovered was your heart rearranged? / are you still taking pills in the morning, and did you lose that longing now for a walk through an ocean town / and i hope that we make you proud / cause this towns just an ocean now)

not to be a swiffer but this song is in the dorothea/ttds universe 😪

strawberry wine:

ok well one of my fav songs is called strawberry sunscreen so i kinda hoped this would be happy but i’m crying lol

will try to keep this brief but in high school and for a time after i had a really complicated relationship w a girl who struggled w really intense mental illness. but we met & got involved Before any of it. we started off best friends so it really caught us off guard because we were so young and didn’t understand how serious the diagnosis was until it Was

remember telling me that you thought you were cursed /

pretty sure she used that exact word once 🙃 as you can imagine it took a toll on me & i didn’t handle it well and obviously it took a major toll on her & she didn’t handle it well either

light a cigarette i’ll watch it as it burns / all the time we used to have / those things i miss but know are never coming back /

yeah

but!! go from this into all my love n it’s ok :’)

growing sideways:

i have been listening to this song on tiktok for monthsssss

why is pain so damn impatient? / but i ignore things and i move sideways / i know there are worse ways to stay alive / if the engine works perfect on empty i guess i’ll drive /

hm. that might be me. like. right now. 🥴 time for self reflection?? later tho 😗🤙🏽

halloween:

Not To Be A Swiffer But noah would have fit as a collab on coney island so much better than that dude wow

too much to say rn and also my head is empty

the lyrics are teleporting me back to high school agghh

homesick:

oh she fucks in the chorus

the lyrics are so strong and so is the production

i’m so glad i Don’t relate to this song at all bc if i did i’d probably have a fucking panic attack

still:

i have this fun talent where i can make any song about my dead mother so 🤙🏽 that’s all i have to say

the view between villages:

this gonna be a grower for me but when it hits it’s gonna Hit

great closing track to the album, couldn’t have picked a better one

production wise such a banger i need this song while i’m driving the stretch right after you cross the oregon border into california

lyrics wise reminds me of homesick in that i think the lyrics are gorgeous but i just can’t relate

#asks

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hugispuso-archive · 3 years

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"so amazed how you take me back,

each and every time our love collapsed."

it's july 10th!! which means it's my 2nd anniversary with jose, the absolute love of my life. 💕 last year, i wasn't able to make anything as i was fixated on a different f/o at the time. it's not much but i hope this suffices (and that he likes it ehe)!

jose is incredibly precious to me and my love for him probably exceeds than what i can express. no character, or rather, no one at all, has made me this happy before, and i love him so much for that. he came at a time when i was struggling (with school, specifically), but he came here and lifted me up to give me motivation. i just find it slightly sad that he often gets overlooked in the fanbase and doesn't get as much love as other characters do. but it's okay! i've been loving him since day one and will continue doing so. he's done so much things for me, which i am eternally grateful for. i feel like i'm just repeating my words from the past, but he truly makes me feel i am actually loved and that i don't have to worry about hiding myself from him. he makes me so, so happy. i cherish him, i adore him. he has a special place in my heart and it's probably going to take a while for somebody to replace him! :]

the drawings are actually a tiny portion of our lore — jose had to leave to search for his father (who suddenly disappeared without notice) and i was worried about his decision. but nevertheless, i respected it. the thing is, he didn't come back. at least, for ten years. i had to wait for that long, and never did i think of marrying another man (or woman, but idk if it was allowed in our timeline) because i was scared they would leave as well. :'] but when jose came back, it was the happiest day of my life. it's just like the actual reality — when i came back to, as i like to call it, "my jose brainrot", i've been happier everyday. it's like i and jose have known each other for a long time and we'd always come back to each other no matter what. maybe it's just bound to happen. maybe we are soulmates, after all. <3

anyway, happy anniversary to my beloved!! i love you jose!! 💞💞

tag list : @lovinggreeniehours, @usamey, @gentle-horrors, @holy-heck-i-love-my-fo, @lilacslovers, @softskiesahead, @jils-things, @haileyiscooldnfjdhd, @haileyiscooldnfjdhd, @recordplayershipping, @raakhs, @cxrpsedance, @thatslikesometaldude [ if you want to be added to/removed from the tag list, let me know via asks or dm! ]

ok hi sorry i needed to include this reaction picture because this is literally how i felt THREE DAYS before posting this hngk. every time i looked back at the drawing, i'd become emotional in seconds. i'd have to audibly stim. that's how big of an impact jose has implented on me, and although it's quite distracting sometimes, i actually feel sentimental thinking about it. jose can make me feel like this with so little effort. i love him so much and i'm so grateful for his existence. happy anniversary again darling, here's to more years of yearning and kisses every night. <3

#✏ ; oreki makes something #AAAAAAAAAA :)))))))))#im smiling so much hHhhhhfhj #i am very happy #anyways #i think this is the first time i drew jose properly #i'm sorry his uniform is just so detailed and i'm too lazy- /hj #also idk how to draw those shoulder pads of his #sorry if it looks weird #actually i'm sorry if anything looks weird at all #it's my first time drawing side view perspective ;w;#his uniform still looks tidy here bc it's before he goes to the manor (which happens ingame)!!#i'm rambling again oops. pardon me! jose has a must-speak-fancy-long-word disease and it has affected me #hehe #happy anniversary jose i love you so much <333 #romantic f/o ; jose ✰#s/i ; kryxelle baden ✰#long post

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cheri-translates · 3 years

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[CN] Victor’s Night Meeting Date (Eng Translation)

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 夜会之约, which has not been released in English servers! 🍒

Important references are made to Victor’s Return Home Date, which has not been released in EN. Do read that first before proceeding :>

[ This date was released in CN on 26 October 2020 ]

The red light makes its countdown from 99 seconds. Victor pulls on the handbrake, turning to look at me.

Victor: What are you looking at - the rules of the competition?

MC: Nope. I’m checking to see who’s participating in the competition, and whether there’s anyone I recognise.

Half a year ago, Victor sent out invitations to small-and-medium enterprises - LFG’s investees - inviting them to participate in a simulation competition in Loveland City.

The winner of the competition will acquire a fifty million dollar investment from LFG.

A few companies politely declined, feeling that LFG was too lofty. But a few open-minded young CEOs were willing to participate.

And I am one of them.

Victor: Goldman is responsible for this competition, so you can look for him if you face any issues.

MC: Does this mean Goldman will have all the contact details of the participating CEOs?

I hold up the notebook laptop in my hands and show it to him, deliberately giving him a sincere smile.

MC: Do these business elites have good editing skills, or are they truly this handsome?

A sudden drizzle descends from the gloomy sky.

Victor taps on the steering wheel indifferently, his ring finger clicking the windshield wiper.

Victor: There isn’t a discrepancy between the actual people and the photographs.

MC: So they truly... have their merits.

Probably because my awe sounded too genuine, Victor’s eyelid twitches slightly.

Victor: You could look for them yourself to get their contact details. The reason why LFG is holding this competition is to allow for interaction among elite businessmen from different industries, and to expand their network.

MC: ...yes yes yes. A few days after interacting with them, we’ll be able to clarify what they are good at, what sort of personalities they have, and whether there’s a possibility of collaboration in the future. To a start-up company, financing channels that can provide these resources are even more important than the funds themselves. Victor... I know all this.

Victor: But?

MC: But according to the rules of the competition, I have to be locked in the hotel for a full seven days.

Victor turns a deaf ear to me. He pushes the handbrake, stepping on the accelerator.

In a soft voice, I continue sending out hints.

MC: Don’t you have anything else to warn me about? For example, to take care of my safety?

Victor turns the steering wheel to the right, casting his line of sight to the rearview mirror.

Victor: You’re very safe in LFG’s hotel. There’s nothing to be cautious about.

With this, the logo of LFG’s hotel comes into view.

I reach out to unbuckle my seatbelt, but Victor stops me.

Victor: I’m driving to the underground carpark.

MC: The rain isn’t that bad. Alighting me at the entrance will do.

Victor doesn’t respond. He has already passed the gate, and has entered the carpark.

After coursing through the familiar carpark, the car pulls up in front of the elevator.

Since it’s still early, only a sparse number of cars are in the carpark. The surroundings are quiet, and there’s not a single person around.

...I first glance at him out of the corner of my eyes.

MC: I’m off.

Victor: Mm.

Then, I unbuckle my seatbelt.

MC: Are you going back to LFG now?

Victor: Mm.

After a pause, I take my handbag.

MC: I’m... leaving now?

Victor lowers his eyes slightly, releasing a very soft chuckle.

He’s doing this on purpose! I immediately push the car door open--

A hand suddenly lands on the right side of my forehead. I subconsciously turn my face to the left. He leans forward, pressing his lips to my hair.

Victor: Be safe.

His low voice encapsulates a mildly teasing smile and breath. It’s as though he’s giving me a tiny, tangled compliment. Even his lowered voice is mixed with cheerful satisfaction.

I nuzzle my head into his palm. His sleeve and wristwatch slide downwards, revealing the edge of his palm and his long, slender fingers.

MC: You too. Drive safely.

After disembarking from the car, I turn around again and wave at him.

MC: I’ll strive to win the competition!

Goldman: Firstly, I’m grateful to all the participants for coming here despite your busy schedules.

Goldman: I trust that everyone has taken a cursory look through the rules of the competition before coming here.

Goldman: In this competition, you have to study an LFG acquisition case, and produce an analysis report from any perspective.

Goldman: The employees will be distributing the case study materials to the participants. According to the rules, the submission date for the report is the final day of the competition.

Goldman: In the meantime, everyone can use the leisure time in the evening to work on this task.

Without a lively atmosphere that other competitions have, Goldman informs everyone about the important topic of this competition the moment everyone takes their seats.

The meeting room is on the 32nd floor. The view outside the window features Loveland City’s financial centres and tall skyscrapers, the glass windows of every building refracting rational, cold light.

Enveloped by the overcast sky and light drizzle, the entire business district looks extremely serene.

Very soon, hardcopy versions of the case study materials, as well as a USB drive containing the files, are in my hands. The sound of paper can be heard as the people around me start reading.

After a while, the participants exchange glances, and start discussing softly.

??: Business plans, meeting minutes, financial statements, employee resumes... LFG is letting us look at every brick of SE.

??: It was worth making the trip here - this is all insider information! It’s such a waste that there aren’t contact numbers on the employee resumes, so I can’t tell who is who.

??: I like this topic. It’s in line with Victor’s style.

Out of all LFG investments, SE - a network video platform - was its worst.

When the information was first announced, every financial platform used phrases like “LFG’s Battle of Waterloo” or “Victor’s wrong decision” to attract attention.

Even though many people have already forgotten about this matter with the passage of time, Victor, without doubt, still remembers it.

In the evening, I read through the materials, which span over three hundred pages, seriously. Every day and night that Victor revisited SE’s business model flashes past my eyes.

Victor must have found a lead here, and clearly identified every minor detail resulting in SE’s collapse.

Now that I’m the one in his shoes, can I do it?

Feeling drowsy, I clip up my fringe and lean against the chair, staring at the ceiling.

My phone suddenly rings. It’s a certain someone’s special ringtone, and I’m so surprised that I jolt awake.

Victor: How was today?

MC: It was very enriching. I made so many new friends, and participated in the most difficult ERP Sand Table Simulation in my entire life. I even had a seafood buffet in LFG’s hotel, which is deserving of its reputation. What about you? Are you still in the office?

[Trivia] An ERP (Enterprise Resource Planning System) Sand Table Simulation (沙盘模拟 - “sha pan mo ni”) is a relatively new teaching mode of accounting in China, which cultivates one’s ability of business operation, coordination and interpersonal communication. It basically simulates the operation of an enterprise, which includes marketing, production, logistics, financial centres, etc.

Victor: Mm.

MC: Are you standing at the window looking at the scenery?

Victor: Mm, I just realised that the rain has stopped.

I draw back the curtains, looking at the night view beneath my feet. It’s already very late, but the lights from office buildings illuminate the night distinctly.

They even reveal the sharp and lonely colours of the cloudy night.

This is one representation of “business”.

Before the collapse of the magnificent SE, its building was often lit up - a starlight converging with the city’s night scene.

The same goes for LFG’s building.

MC: Once you’re done, head home early to rest.

Victor: Are you preparing to sleep?

Looking at the tiny mountain of materials on the table, I let out an anguished wail.

MC: CEO Victor, don’t you know how demanding the rules you set for the competition are? How could I be sleeping at this time!

At the other end of the line, Victor cannot help but laugh.

Victor: In that case, I’ll wish you the winning prize?

MC: Sure, I accept your blessings!

This is the fourth cup of coffee I’m having today.

Time is tight, so I’m unable to comb through every single one of SE’s business proposals and then formulate them into words. I need to go straight into the heart of the matter, and hit the nail on the head!

Even so, I stare at the file on my laptop which currently spans over thirty thousand words. There’s a sense of unease in my heart.

Did I include too much nonsense?

It’s already the evening of the fifth day, and I’ll have to submit the report in 37 hours...

Restless and anxious, I down the remaining half of my americano, then draw a bunch of squiggles on my draft.

The doorbell suddenly rings.

A possibility flashes in my mind. I run over frantically, looking through the peephole at the person standing outside.

MC: W-wait for a moment. Victor, wait for a while!

With fiery speed, I rush to the dressing table to tidy myself up, then rush back to open the door.

Victor: Did I come at the wrong time?

MC: No you didn’t...

Before I finish speaking, Victor reaches out to touch the pimple patch on my forehead.

Victor: What’s this?

MC: Worry, internal heat, loss of sleep, supper... The main reason could be the fried chicken I had for supper the day before yesterday.

Victor: You don’t know how to eat something better even with the competition funds from the company.

Without waiting for him to continue, I press him down onto the sofa in the living room.

MC: Let’s continue our chat later. Hold on, I’ll tidy up some things!

It becomes evident that I have some issues estimating how long “a moment” is.

By the time I finish combing through my outline and prepare to do a further refinement, more than an hour has passed. Victor remains seated on the sofa, waiting for me.

I blink at him guiltily.

Victor: Are you done?

MC: Not yet, but I can take a break~

I walk over, kneeling on the empty space on the sofa, leaning my entire body onto him.

Victor shifts closer, placing a hand on my waist in a habitual manner.

Victor: How’s the competition?

With a frown, I shake my head.

MC: As of now, I’m ranked in 13th place. Your fifty million dollar investment wouldn’t reach me.

Victor glances at the outline and the half-completed draft in my hand.

Victor: You still want to compete when you have no prospects?

MC: Of course. I’ve already worked on this for so long, so I should at least produce something.

I tilt my head on Victor’s shoulder, taking another look at the report I've spent days writing. The more I look at it, the more dissatisfied I am. So, I just heave several deep sighs.

MC: But some of the competitors are really formidable. I can tell that they’re treating this competition as a game - they don’t put much heart into it, and they aren’t very serious about it. Even so, they win very easily, and take the lead very easily.

I say excitedly, straightening up and facing Victor.

MC: For example, the CEO from Yao Yue, the media company, has won me over. During the ERP Sand Table Simulation on the first day, he actually went to other groups to poach members halfway through. And poaching other people was just the first step. Once their funding chain was in operation, they went around purchasing other production lines, and continuously expanded their scope.

Victor smiles faintly, his expression reflecting a tacit understanding.

Victor: You aren’t bad either. Goldman told me that among all the competitors, you were the first one who thought of capitalising on rent to construct the production line.

MC: You said it yourself - whatever isn’t prohibited in the rules is permissible.

Furthermore, Victor had prepared for numerous eventualities during the game, and arranged for Goldman to react accordingly. Nobody’s creativity can disrupt the process of the game.

Thinking about this, I once again feel disheartened, plopping myself back atop Victor’s chest, looking at the report that I have no idea how to amend.

MC: As compared to them, I’m still far behind... It’s so difficult to surpass you.

Victor suddenly lapses into silence, his hand on my back.

The air-con in the middle blows out rustling wind. It’s very soft, but I hear it very clearly because of how quiet the room is.

Accompanying the regulated white noise is the comfortable warmth from Victor’s arms. Four cups of coffee doesn’t seem to be of much use.

Drowsily, I stare at a sentence on the report, warning myself repeatedly: I can’t sleep yet.

Perhaps noticing that I haven’t spoken for a long time, and that I’m so tired that my eyes have drifted shut, Victor gently takes the file away from my hand.

MC: ...I’m not sleeping.

Hearing my indistinct mumble, he lets out a resigned chuckle.

Victor: Are you going to continue amending it?

So tired that I can no longer open my eyes, I give him a nod, rubbing the side of my face on his chest.

The scent of a fresh bath entwines with cologne, twirling around the tip of my nose. It’s such a pleasant scent that it makes one feel as though breathing is a kind of luxury.

Likely not knowing how to deal with me, Victor holds onto the file and doesn’t move.

It’s only until I hug his waist contentedly like a cat which has had its fill of being coquettish, that he flips through the file, probably wanting to have a quick look at what I’ve written.

After a while, he touches the ends of my hair.

Victor: The overall reasoning has no issues. But regarding the marketing strategy...

I reach out to cover his mouth. Because I’m not looking, my fingers fumble on his face for a moment.

MC: This is a competition, so you can't help. And this is my competition, so I can do it independently... Also, you specially came over at night just to comment on my report?

Victor: Why else do you think I’d be here?

I open my eyes lazily and look at his chin. With a hum, I bury my face into the crook of his neck, coquettishly blowing into his ear.

MC: Teacher Victor...

MC: I’m calling you ‘Teacher’ not because I want to talk about business methods and progress in work.

Victor doesn’t say anything. He places the file on the coffee table. After a pause, he speaks softly.

Victor: You never mentioned that your goal was to surpass me.

MC: I have, but you didn’t take me seriously...

I rise from his chest, giving him a firm look.

MC: I’m not that silly to think that just because I’ve won a few media-related prizes and produced a few good programs, I’m already on the same level as you. You’ve been taking care of me in a greenhouse, keeping out the wind and rain for me. All I can do is to make a few flowers bloom under your meticulous care.

The lenses of his thin spectacles reflect the warm and yellow ceiling lights. Behind the lenses, there are deep emotions in Victor’s eyes.

Victor: When did you have such a thought?

My line of sight falls onto the file on the coffee table. On the first page of the report, the words “SE” have been circled with a pencil.

MC: When SE got into trouble, you flew to France and were so busy that you didn’t sleep for days...

MC: And when you were back in the country, you spent half the year arranging for the sale of the property and didn’t tell me a single word about it. That’s when it started.

This has been a knot residing in my heart, and I've never brought it up to him.

I really wanted to help even a little, but I didn’t manage to do anything.

Unable to be needed by him, unable to become a person he can face difficulties with... A voice in my heart has always been reminding me of such a reality. And I'm not going to simply resign myself to it.

Victor: What happened with SE is just an example. We’re from different businesses and different fields. There’s no need to compare yourself with me. Also, I’m older than you. When you’ve reached my age, you might attain the achievements I have today.

Victor lifts his head to look at me, his eyes filled with his usual resoluteness.

Although I only said one thing, he seems to have understood everything.

Victor: You’ve never been a flower I’ve been raising in a greenhouse. At any point in time, I do need you very much. When SE was in trouble and the PR Department couldn’t communicate with the media, they talked to you about it. It’s not as if you weren’t of any help.

You tilt your head to look at him. Furrowing your brows, you bite your lip.

MC: Could we not talk about such general principles? I can understand them, but the things I can do are always limited... Which is why I’ll not give up on this goal.

Victor sits upright, closing the distance between us. His grip on my back tightens slightly, and his voice is even lower than before.

Victor: Who was the one who said she didn’t want to talk about business methods and progress in work?

Victor: Is the phrase “I need you” also considered a general principle?

I lower my head and chuckle, pushing at his chest lightly with my fingertips. He doesn’t pull back. Instead, he shifts forward even more.

Victor: What do you think I specially came over so late at night to do?

His voice carries with it his exhaled breath, reminiscent of a silk thread on my collarbone, causing a ticklish sensation to surface.

I have no choice but to lift myself up, cupping his cheeks in my hands.

MC: Teacher Victor, you look very good in spectacles.

[Note] AND THEN EVERYTHING FADES TO BLACK AND YOU KNOW THINGS ARE GETTING SPICY

Victor: Still amending your report?

MC: I will. I’ll amend it after you leave.

Victor: In that case, when do you want me to leave?

MC: ...

MC: I still have an entire day tomorrow.

Victor: Are you sure?

MC: ...don’t tempt me!

Victor: I’m seeking your opinion. The decision rests with you.

🌹 MOMENTS 🌹

Victor: Looks like the dishes in LFG’s hotel are passable. A certain someone actually put on weight after being locked in for seven days,

MC: Fried chicken! Five star recommendation! The breaded chicken thigh paired with plum sauce was so delicious that I was on the verge of tears!

Victor: I’ll give you an opportunity. Bring your proposal over and exchange it for the secret recipe for the dipping sauce.

Victor: Looks like the dishes in LFG’s hotel are passable. A certain someone actually put on weight after being locked in it for seven days,

MC: Not just the dishes - the wine was also very good!

Victor: When did you secretly drink wine?

Victor: Looks like the dishes in LFG’s hotel are passable. A certain someone actually put on weight after being locked in it for seven days,

MC: Every meal was a buffet, so it’s difficult not to gain weight...

Victor: A greedy cat always has many excuses.

Phone call: here

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc victor

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strandedcrow · 3 years

Note

ADDING TO MY OLD ASK BUT THE CONSISTENCY IS 👩‍🍳😘 like oh my G O D. First, from the first war, to the dram vs techno fight, to Dawn of the 16th and Hog hunt it's all just,,, SAD-ist took the story of the smp and fucking ETERNALIZED it and its W O N D E R F U L. On top of this, but the consistency of dream and his mask. In the first animation, he showed pretty much his entire faces but as the animations go further and further, his mask completely covers his face, showing his losing humanity and it wofksjfosjfkd I LOVE SAD-IST

YES YES YES

i wanted to practice drawing more punz so i literally just got done with another (my last for the hog hunt era don’t worry lol back to original stuff after this one) redraw but this time from the first animatic and it really drove home for me even further the way that SADist develops the characters through their designs ALONE. like you have techno whose hair was cut short in the duel and was left in a small ponytail during the fall and dawn of the 16th

and in his first two smp animatics, his hair is tied back for combat, but in hog hunt, as per the retirement arc, it’s NOT. he’s no longer fighting so his hair is let down finally. (not to mention the SBI all having the matching braids in hog hunt)

AND DONT GET ME STARTED ON THIS DAWN OF THE 16TH VS HOG HUNT PARALLEL

the secret room of supplies that techno intends to use to take down the government he views to be tyrannical, which he invites those he views as his allies into, trusting them, only for those very people to go on to “betray” him (from his perspective)

AND DREAM.

going from the first two animatics with his face visible at multiple points, allied with his friends before receiving schlatt’s resurrection book (also the scar from the duel YES)

to the dawn of the 16th where, after receiving the resurrection book and changing sides in the war, his face is covered by the mask up until lmanberg is destroyed and after schlatt dies

and then finally in hog hunt, where we don’t see his face a single time. the original dream we knew is gone now. he is not the character he once was in the slightest anymore

ITS SO GOOD

#ask #FUCK #AND THE CHEST THE ITEMS IN PHILS CHEST #THE DISC (tommy) THE SKULL (techno) BLUE (ghostbur) THE FRIENDSHIP EMERALDS. ITS SO !#delomaniaofficial #long post #OH AND TOMMY AND TUBBO BOTH WEARING THE COMPASSES ON THEIR PERSON

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jvnghxope · 4 years

Text

love sewn | final

final part;

◦ pairing: Jungkook | reader

◦ genre: boy next door au; fluff, angst

◦ word count: 9k

◦ warnings: angst, mentions of self-hatred, cheating, infidelity

◦ abstract: You’ve never cared about the thin-as-paper walls of your beloved apartment until Jeon Jungkook moved next door. You could hear everything –from his late-night parties on Saturday, to the quality time he spent with his girlfriend in the intimacy of his bedroom. One day, everything ceases. Days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months and you find yourself knocking his door before you can think it twice.

⇥ prologue | part one | part two | part three | final

◦ a/n: It took me a lot more than anticipated to edit it, but it is finally here! Thank you so much for all your love and support. I hope you have enjoyed this ride as much as I did.

A numb feeling spreads throughout your body as you stare dumbfounded to his cellphone.

You don't know if their conversation continues and you don't care. It's like your mind has shut down. You feel a giant knot inside your throat like you just swallowed a big-ass pill without water. This is awfully like that night two years ago and you feel the breath hitch in your throat.

“Hey," Jungkook says as he appears in the hallway, dressed in jeans and a naked torso as he slides inside a t-shirt. “I was thinking we could go to this park after breakfast. It has a majestic view and you can draw something and I could take some pics– What’s wrong?” He asks the moment he sees your expression and then, his eyes fall to the cellphone.

“You have, hmm, a new text,” you say as calm as you can and hand him his phone.

Maybe it's not a good idea that you stay here. Yes. You need to go. You move past him to walk to his bedroom but he stops you, taking your wrist.

"Did you read these texts?" He asks. A part of you expected him to be mad at you for invading his privacy, but he sounds more worried than anything.

"It was not my intention," you reply, your voice just above a whisper. "I wanted to check the hour…"

"Let me explain."

“There’s no need to explain.”

"It is not what you think."

You take a deep breath and turn around to face him.

"What I think is that you have unresolved feelings for your ex."

There, you said it. The confusion in Jungkook's eyes only confirms it. He has an internal struggle.

"It is complicated," he finally says.

At that, you smile. "I know."

You can assume by his expression that he feels genuinely torn.

“Jungkook," you murmur, taking the hand that was holding your wrist in yours and squeezing it tightly. "I am not your girlfriend. You don’t owe me anything.”

Words that are hard to pronounce but the truth behind them might give him some perspective.

He shakes his head, "Don't do that."

You frown, "Do what?"

"Minimize this," he points at you and him. "Come here." He tugs you by the hand and leads you to his couch.

"I hate to burst your bubble Kook, but we had one date."

He nods, "I know. We might not be a couple. But that was something I was hoping we could be in the future. That we've dated once doesn't change the way I feel about you."

The small layer of ice that was beginning to form around your heart warms at his words.

"What about Zoe? Do you still love her?"

He sits there, silently, pondering his answer carefully.

"I'm going to be honest with you," he starts and your heart clenches, already fearing his words. "I don't know. I haven't seen her or spoken to her for over a year. But she was a big part of my life. I just can't forget her completely."

You nod. You understand that. "I'm not asking you to do that. I just… I think we moved too fast. Last night–"

"I don't regret what happened between us," he snaps. "Not at all. I thought I made myself clear when I told you about my feelings. I know I am a mess, and yes, maybe it was too quick. But last night was genuine and beautiful. I would do it again."

The tears sting in your eyes. Jungkook caresses your cheek with his thumb when one of them falls.

"Last night was special for me too. But there's something you need to understand. I don't think I could be with you until you resolve this. I don't want to be insensitive or selfish, or anything. I just know that, if we continue this, if we continue living inside a bubble, one day it will burst and someone is going to get hurt. What if when you meet her again you realize your feelings for her haven't changed at all? The three of us will be in a more complicated situation than none of us want to be. Believe me."

At this point, the tears are cascading freely down your cheeks.

"Don't you think that is a little pessimistic?"

You sniff and wipe your cheeks with the back of your hand, "It is realistic. I've been in the same position before. I've been the second choice and I don't want to be again. So, I think I should go."

You stand from the couch.

"Wait!" He stops you. "What does that mean for me? For us?"

"I think that's up to you. But, for now, maybe we should take some time to think and revalue our situation."

He chuckles dryly, "That sounds awful to 'I don't want to see you anymore'. I don't blame you. I wish things were different."

"Maybe right now it was not our time."

"I don't believe that. Everything happens for a reason."

Ugh. Even in times like this, he is so stubborn. He stands from the couch, too. His eyes are red and he looks defeated. It only makes your heart sink even more. You hate seeing him like that. You wish things were different, too.

Summoning all the courage you have, you take his face between your hands and raise on your tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his lips. Jungkook's arms find their way around your waist.

"Take care of yourself, Jungkook."

You murmur against his ear, hugging him. At that, his arms tighten around you.

"Is this goodbye?" He asks, his voice strained and face buried on your hair. You choose to not reply and give him one last kiss to his cheek.

After you've gathered all your stuff, you walk towards the door. But when your hand touches the doorknob, you hesitate.

Is this really the right choice?

It is, you tell yourself. And with that, you walk out of his apartment without looking back.

Seeing you walking away broke his heart in a million pieces.

He wanted to run after you so bad. Hug you and tell you everything was going to be okay. But he didn’t. He knew he needed to let you go. If seeing you walking was heartbreaking, seeing you cry because of him almost killed him.

Waking up the next day after your departure felt surreal. Like he was dreaming. For a moment, he forgot what happened the night prior. He stood up and made himself something to eat. As he was breeding some coffee, he was waiting for your arrival like every Monday morning. But of course, that didn’t happen. You didn’t come. And then it hit him. You didn’t swing his door open with that smile of yours he adores so much.

He wanted to call, even send a text. But every time he picked up his phone, his mind was blank. Would you pick up if he called? If so, what should he say? He wished things were different. He wished he met you in different circumstances.

He avoided all of Zoe’s attempts to approach him, too. Every call, every text since the last one. It has been a year. She had all those months to do it. Why was she contacting him now when his life was somewhat normal? She made everything more complicated than it already was.

“...so, that’s the reason why we should keep it casual,” Yoongi finishes the sentence and turns to his friend. “Are you even paying me attention?”

“W-what?” Jungkook blurts.

“That’s a no,” Yoongi giggles and punches him softly on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I logged out for a second." Jungkook rubs his temples and takes a sip of the coffee he left on the table. It is not even hot anymore, but the taste is enough to give him some comfort.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks. When Jungkook nods, he hums. "You don't seem okay."

Jungkook glares at his friend.

“Yeah. I was just… thinking,” he says. "I have a lot in my mind."

"Yeah, no wonder."

It is strange. He sometimes forgets how close to you he has become in the past few months. He is probably aware of the whole ordeal from both sides.

"Shut up."

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something snarky but gets interrupted by a newcomer: a cute redhead in a pretty business dress.

"Hello. My name is Lisa and I’m the assistant of miss Hyeri. She will receive you now," she greets them and urges them to follow her.

Then the realization hits him. Jungkook and Yoongi are about to have an important meeting with one of the curators of the most important museums in town. He doesn't have the time to be nervous because the next second the receptionist is opening one of the many wooden doors.

A gasp falls from his mouth at the sight of the meeting room. It is both mesmerizing and massive. Most of the space is occupied by an enormous table. A woman is waiting for them at the end of the table. Jungkook recognizes her from the gala.

"Min Yoongi, Jeon Jungkook" Hyeri greets them and shakes their hands. "Please, take a seat. Do you want something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Maybe something to eat?"

“I’ll have a cup of tea, thank you,” Yoongi says. Lisa nods and disappears through the door. Not much longer after that, she reappears with a cup of hot tea.

“I’m so glad you guys could meet us here with so short notice.”

“It is no problem,” Yoongi comments after taking a sip of his tea.

"We were wondering why we are here,” Jungkook adds.

“Oh, right,” she claps. “I have good news. One of my permanent artists recently decided to part ways with the museum and now that we have a free spot, we would like to offer it to you guys.”

For a moment, they just stare at her with wide eyes and mouth agape. Yoongi is the first one to jump into action.

“Seriously?”

Neither of them can believe it.

Hyeri nods with a smile. “The Museum is a big fan of your work. I've been following it for over a year. It is really impressive what you guys have accomplished.”

“Wow. That means a lot coming from you. Thank you,” Jungkook musters and then exchanges a look with Yoongi, slightly panicked. He has always admired Yoongi’s ability to hide his emotions. He is there, completely serious when Jungkook is freaking out. He is both excited and afraid. They have never had a boss. Never had to meet deadlines. To be honest, Jungkook is not very good with deadlines. He likes to work at his own pace.

“So, how would it work?” Yoongi asks.

“Unless there is a special occasion, we change the exhibitions every month or two months. If you agree to work with us, you’ll have a little over a month to work on your first one.”

“Will we have creative flexibility?” Jungkook interjects.

"Totally. Unless there is a special theme or it violates our politics, you are free to create what you want.” Then, she hands them a folder. "Everything is explained in the contract. You can check it out. There is a money offer too. If you want to change it, we are open to negotiation." As if in cue, Lisa opens the door and waits with a smile. “I apologize but I don’t have more time. Please, feel free to arrange another meeting with Lisa whenever you have an answer. I look forward to hearing from you guys.”

"No, it’s okay. We understand. Thank you again for receiving us," Yoongi says as he shakes the curator's hand. Jungkook does the same.

"Thank you so much for coming. Have a nice day," she has enough time to wave them goodbye before her phone starts to ring.

They follow Lisa out of the door with dumb smiles and full of hope.

Thirty minutes later, Jungkook opens the door of their gallery.

“I didn’t expect that,” he musters as Yoongi closes the door behind them.

“Then why did you expect?”

Jungkook shrugs, “I don’t know. A part of me thought she wanted to steal Vante from us.”

Yoongi snorts, “And why would she tell us?”

“Good manners?”

“Right.”

"Anyway. It sounds like a good offer, right?"

"Yeah," Yoongi answers. "I gave it a quick check. They are willing to pay us twice the money we earn in two months at the gallery. That sounds pretty good. But I want to call Taekwoon, first. Maybe he can come next week to check the contract before we make a decision."

"Good idea," Jungkook agrees.

“Why are we here, anyway?” Yoongi asks while scrolling down his contacts.

"I need to pick something up from the office. Do you want to go to grab something for lunch? I am starving and in the mood for Thai food.”

“Can I pick the restaurant?”

Jungkook chuckles. “Sure.”

He leaves Yoongi in the entrance as he makes his way to the office. It was Yoongi's idea to have the office behind a hidden door. More like an office is more like storage. They keep there all the photographs and paintings. Theirs and their artists. But Jungkook didn’t find what he was looking for there. So, he returns to his friend.

“Hey, Yoongs. Do you know where is the portfolio of my trip to Machu Picchu? I don't find it and I want to use some pictures in the next exhibition…"

Jungkook stops on his tracks and a gasp falls from his lips.

"Zoe…"

She is there, Jungkook's ex, standing in front of him with a very awkward Yoongi.

"What are you doing here?" He manages to ask after staring at her for a couple of awkward minutes.

"I came to see you,” she says and the sound of her voice moves something inside his chest.

"You can stand,” he blurts.

"Yeah,” she laughs, embarrassed. “We have a lot to talk about."

Jungkook's face turns to Yoongi. "Go," his friend says. "I'll wait at your apartment and I'm still picking the food."

Twenty minutes later, they are both in one of the cafes near the gallery.

Jungkook shifts awkwardly on his seat.

“So, about what you wanted to talk about?”

"Well, I don't know where to start." Zoe takes a sip of her latte nervously.

And that is what sets him off.

“Since when can you walk?” He tries so hard not to sound mad but that is an impossible task. All the anger that he has been holding back for a year is finally pouring off of him.

"Two weeks after the accident, I started to feel the tip of my toes. After a month, I could feel my legs completely. After a lot of physical therapy, I finally can walk without any type of help."

Her face lights up at the memory and Jungkook doesn't know if he feels relieved or still angry. Maybe a little bit of both.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He deadpans. "Picking up the phone was really that hard?”

Zoe gulps at that. “I wanted to reach you, but I was not in a good place. I was dealing with a lot and my body was getting used to the medication again…”

“A text would have been enough... “ he counters attacks. “Do you even realize how I lived the next months? How hard was it? I know is nowhere near what you have been through, but living with the guilt… almost broke me."

At this point, tears are running down Zoe's cheeks and his heart clenches.

"I know I'm late, but I am so sorry." She reaches out to grab his hand. He stiffens but doesn't pull away. "Jungkook, the accident was not your fault." Somehow, those words managed to lift some weight off Jungkook’s heart. He didn’t realize how much he needed to hear those words until now. Especially from her. It is like he can breathe properly again. “I know what I said. I regretted it the moment I said those words. You didn't ruin my life… You saved me.”

Jungkook can’t help but snort. “Saved you? How? I almost killed us!”

A soft smile spreads across her face. “That night, I was in the middle of a crisis. I was a danger to myself and others around me. You might not understand how much you helped me that night. Despite what happened.”

She uses one of the napkins to wipe her eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Maybe I could have done something more.”

“It was nothing personal,” Zoe replies, taking a sip of her already cold coffee. “I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder when I was 12. When I told my friends, they started to look at me weirdly. Like with pity. I couldn't bear the look in their eyes. It made me feel like there was something wrong with me. So, when I started high school, I decided to not tell anyone about it. Ever since then, only my family knew about it.”

Jungkook nods, understanding.

“I was feeling so good,” she continues. “In my stupidity, I stopped using the medication. I thought I didn’t need them anymore. The first month I was okay. Fine, actually. It was in the second month when the problems started. I guess it was around the time we started fighting over nonsense…”

Jungkook finds himself squeezing her hand in comfort. Of course, he remembers those fights. But right now, they don't seem important anymore.

“But, are you okay now?”

She sniffs. No matter how many times she wipes her eyes, the tears keep coming. “Yeah. The medication is working. These last two months are the first time I’ve been genuinely happy in the last year.”

A smile tugs the corner of Jungkook’s lips. “Who is he?”

Zoe looks at him with wide eyes, “What?”

Jungkook chuckles at the way she is looking at him. “I know you like the back of my hand. Who is he?”

Suddenly, Zoe’s cheeks turn slightly pink. “I met a guy in my support group three months ago. He is an athlete too, with an injury in recovery. We officially started dating a month ago. It's pretty new.”

“He makes you happy?”

“Yes," she says with a radiant smile enough to light up the entire cafe.

"Did you tell him about it?"

She chuckles, "Yes. I'm not going to make the same mistake again."

“Good. I am really happy for you.” He offers her a smile.

It is true. There is no jealousy. He really feels happy that Zoe found someone that understands her and what she's been going through.

“Thank you,” she smiles back. “What about you?”

“Me?” Jungkook can’t hide his surprise and a smirk appears in Zoe’s lips. She still looks beautiful with puffy eyes and smudged mascara.

"Come on. I know you too like the back of my hand. I know how your 'I'm sad because a girl' face looks like. What's up?"

"Do you remember my neighbor? ____?"

She nods. "She's really beautiful. What about her?"

“Well, we had one date," he confesses.

“And? How was it?” Zoe asks excitedly and Jungkook smiles shyly. Talking about you makes his heart flutter.

“Good. Really good, actually. I asked her to be my date at the gala.”

“That’s so cute. So, are you two a thing now?” She coos.

“No," he says and Zoe notices the change in his mood right away. "It is complicated."

"What happened?"

"There was a misunderstanding… I think… And you are involved.”

Zoe chokes on her coffee. “Me? Why?”

“She thinks I still have feelings for you and I was not much of a help either.”

"Do you still have feelings for me?"

"No."

"And why didn't you tell her that?" She accuses him.

"Because I was confused when she asked me!" He exclaims. Zoe frowns and he raises a hand before she starts to speak. "We didn't talk for a year. Our relationship ended literally out of nowhere. We didn't have the time or the will to talk about it. So, I buried my feelings. At the time, they were not worth dwelling on."

Zoe shifts on her seat. “It makes sense. I think we can both agree that we shared something magical, passionate and it didn't last that much. We never get the chance to celebrate our first anniversary."

Jungkook chuckles, sharing the nostalgia. "Yeah. We had a lot of plans for that day."

“Sometimes I think we were so stubborn and more in love with the idea of love rather than with each other. If the accident it would not have happened, maybe we would have broken up in the next couple of months.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. We need to admit we were not compatible enough,” Zoe shrugs with a smile. “Anyway. One of the reasons I contacted you, besides apologizing to you, of course…”

“Of course.”

She ignores him, “...is because I miss you and I want us to be friends.”

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“Really?”

Jungkook throws her a bag of sugar, “What do you mean ‘really’? You know my family abandoned me a long time ago. So I made a new one: Yoongi and you. For a while, we were only the three of us and everything was fine. One night, that changed. I lost a member of my family. Again. Of course, I want you in my life.”

“Owww, Jungkook…” She wipes fake tears. “I forgot you were such a corny.”

He snorts.

“I’m going to get another coffee and then you can tell me everything about her and we could come up with a plan because I didn’t raise you to be this stupid.”

And with that, she stands up and walks towards the bar.

Just like that, two old friends reunite. As the last months never happened.

The next day Jungkook wakes up feeling as light as a feather. It felt nice to talk with an old friend. He feels like Seokjin, Anna and the other guys are more friends of yours than his. It feels nice to have someone else by his side besides Yoongi. Finally, he feels he can breathe properly again. After a year of living full of guilt. Now, he can finally move on with his life. He spends the morning thinking about what he should do next.

He was looking for some of his old photos when he finds one of your sketchbooks. You must have left it here the last time you visited. He knows how important the sketchbooks are for you. They are like a window to your soul. He needs to return them. With that in mind, he takes the sketchbook and walks to your apartment.

If things were as they used to, he would enter unannounced and straight to your room. But things are different. Now, he knocks as any normal slash civil neighbor and waits. Some minutes pass before he realizes there's no one inside. Jungkook sighs disappointed. Part of him wanted to see you again.

"Jungkook?" Someone behind him calls his name. "What are you doing here?"

Seokjin is standing behind him with a lot of bags of groceries.

“Hey," he greets him. "____ forgot one of her sketchbooks at my place. I was wondering if I could leave it in her bedroom."

Seokjin nods, “Do you mind helping me first?”

"Ah, yes," he takes a couple of bags of Seokjin's arms.

“Thank you."

Seokjin opens the door and Jungkook follows him inside. Seokjin places the bags in the kitchen counter and throws the keys into the table.

“Wow, these are a lot of groceries.”

Seokjin smiles sheepishly, “Yeah. I want to perfect some recipes.”

“More than they already are?”

He chuckles, “Yes. I want everything ready when I open my new restaurant?”

“Wait a minute,” Jungkook gasps. “When did that happen?”

He suddenly feels bad for not keeping in touch with him after the little fight he shared with you. His friend only shrugs, keeping his hands busy as he places the ingredients he is not going to use at the moment in their respective cabinet.

“I bought a nice place downtown last week,” he confesses. “But I’ve been planning it for a while now. It seemed like the next step.”

“Wow, congratulations!” Jungkook beams and pats Seokjin’s shoulder over the counter.

“Thanks,” the older replies. “Actually, I may need your assistance with something.”

“What can I do for you?”

"Someone told me you are good at video editing."

A small blush appears on Jungkook’s cheeks, “I wouldn’t say good, but I am decent enough. What do you want to do?”

"I figured if Gordon Ramsay can teach cooking through videos, I can show my recipes too. Will you help me?"

"Of course."

The elder hums and a comfortable silence fall upon them. After a while, Jungkook’s gaze shifts toward the hallway that leads to your room. Seokjin notices, even when he is busy chopping some vegetables.

"___ is not here," he comments.

"Oh…" Jungkook already knows that but that doesn’t mean that he feels any less disappointed. "Is she out?"

Seokjin nods, "She went to visit her sister for the weekend. I thought she told you.”

“Well, we are not exactly in speaking terms,” Jungkook confesses, his eyes falling to his hands. "When is she coming back?"

"Possibly Monday after work,” Seokjin throws the vegetables he just chopped to a strainer. “What happened between you two?”

“She didn’t tell you?” Jungkook asks surprised.

He shrugs apologetically, “Kind of. But every story has two versions."

At that, he stays quiet. Seokjin doesn't push him to talk, which Jungkook is thankful for. The elder keeps doing his magic in the kitchen and soon it starts to smell really good.

“A year ago,” Jungkook starts. “I was in a car accident with my former girlfriend. I was driving. She was the most affected. She had several injuries. She blamed me for everything and I accepted that blame. We didn’t talk or saw each other for a while until she contacted me the night of the gala. She wanted to talk. ___ saw it. We had a little… argument about it.”

“What happened?”

Jungkook's face return to look at his friend.

"That night was our first date. I was so excited and nervous. I have never felt like that about someone before. The date went pretty well. Until she saw the text."

He can still see your face. Trying so desperately not to cry but failing nonetheless. It has been printed behind his eyelids.

“She told me that we couldn’t be together until I figured my feelings for my ex. She started to ask questions I couldn’t answer at the moment. I’ve been confused for a long time and denied it for a while.” Jungkook groans and buries his face inside his hands. "I think I ruined everything with her."

“No, you didn’t.” Jungkook raises to meet Seokjin’s gaze. "Is valid to have unresolved feelings when your relationship ended abruptly. Especially after a tragedy. You didn't get closure."

"You didn't see her face." Jungkook chuckles dryly when a shot of tequila appears in front of him. It reminds him of when things were less complicated.

"She is hiding."

"Why?"

Seokjin shrugs, "You know her. Her heart is bigger than her body. She is the type to help strangers when they are at their lowest. She is that selfless."

Jungkook blushes at that. He still feels bad at the way he treated you those first days.

“But when it comes to romantic feelings… She is scared."

"Why?" Jungkook finds himself asking. You never told him about his past relationships and he never asked.

"Someone broke her heart," Seokjin confesses with a sad smile. "It took her some time to recover from that."

"What happened?" He whispers.

"Well…"

Three years ago.

"So, when is the opening night?" You asked Seokjin over the phone. You searched inside your handbag for your key.

"Next week," he replied and then groaned. "I still haven't found the perfect hostess."

"Jinnie, everything is going to be fine. You are an amazing chef. Everyone in the city is going to love your food,” you tried to calm him. “You’ll find the perfect hostess before you know it.”

"Thank you," he replied gratefully, "You are coming, right?"

You tsked, "Of course."

You opened your front door and placed the keys over the small table near the entrance. You made your way towards the kitchen.

"Are you going to bring some of your stuff? Anna brought some boxes the last time she visited and she is going to move in next month. I found this cute apartment. It is kind of expensive, but considering we're four…"

"Yeah, about that…"

"You haven't spoken with Jimin, have you?" He interjected before you could continue. It was impressive how well he could read you even when he was a mile away.

"I will! Is just… Everything is moving so quickly. You moved to the city 6 months ago and you are going to open your restaurant in a week. Anna found a good job. What if I don't get the internship?"

You finally voiced your worries.

"You will," he assured you. "You are really talented. And if they don’t, there are other companies you can apply for."

"I know. Thank you, Jin. I really needed to hear that today," you said as you took your bag from the counter and walk to the mini-studio. "I promise I'll talk to Jimin and of course I will be on your opening night."

"Sounds good!" He chimed. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay? I left something in the oven."

And he hung up before you could say goodbye. You chuckled and placed your phone over your desk. With a sigh, you took your sketchbook out of your bag and opened it. You meant to work on your designs to finish your portfolio but your stomach suddenly growled.

"Jimin! Do you want to grab dinner?"

When it became apparent you were not going to get a reply, you left the studio and went to the bedroom. Till then, you didn't realize how quiet the apartment was. You frowned. You were 90% sure Jimin's car was at the parking lot. But then again, one of your neighbors had the same car.

The bedroom door was half-opened and you heard the faint sound of the shower. Entering the room, you were about to scroll through Uber Eats when you noticed someone lying on your bed and it was not Jimin.

"Hmmm, Who are you, and why are you lying in my bed?" The blond girl staring at you looked… worried. She opened her mouth but got interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening.

"Hey babe," Jimin murmured, a towel around his waist. "I think you should go. My girlfriend will arrive soon…" He stopped the moment he saw you, standing there, in your shared bedroom.

Every word felt like a dagger. Your suspicions were confirmed. Your boyfriend was cheating on you. You wanted to cry, scream, throw stuff, destroy everything around you. But you were frozen in the same spot, unable to do anything your aching heart craved to.

Maybe it was a dream. Yes. You were still sleeping and this was a nightmare. Your mind couldn't wrap around the fact of Jimin –your sweet and lovely Jimin– doing such thing as betray you.

The sound of your name brought you back to the painful reality. You gathered all the courage you could to look at him.

"What it this, Jimin?" You managed to whisper.

It was a dumb question to ask when the answer was right in front of you, but a part of you wanted to be a misunderstanding, still hoping this was a sick joke.

Jimin, the man you fell in love with, was looking at you with so much sadness that it made you sob.

"Please let me explain. I never meant to hurt you. You were not supposed to know like this."

What was he talking about?

"Know what? That you were cheating on me?" You said. "Is this the first time?"

"I wish I could say yes."

What?

Involuntarily, your eyes turned to the woman you found in your bed. At least she was dressed now, a pretty sundress hugging her body. You gulped. Did he found her prettier than you? At that moment, when you were using a sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, you definitely felt she was prettier than you. You hated to feel this way.

"Why?" You finally found the courage to ask him.

"Don't pretend you haven't felt how we've drifted apart."

Oh, you noticed. He had been weird the last couple of months. At first, you thought it was because of school. He gets really moody when it comes to exams. But he graduated and things were the same. There was less communication. He used to be your best friend… And now was like you lived with a stranger with whom you happened to have sex occasionally.

You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, but you didn’t want to push Jimin in to talk about something he was not ready to share. Who would know that something was him cheating on you?

“Is that enough reason?”

“My parents are getting divorced,” he confessed then, taking slow steps into your direction. Your whole body tensed. The last thing you needed was him to get closer. “My father started to drink again.” You opened your mouth to say something but Jimin raised a hand. “No, please. Let me finish.” You pursed your lips and let him continue. “I didn’t want to bother you with my problems. You were busy working at the cafe or working with your designs… They were not yours to handle, so I didn't tell you anything. Then, I met Hannah at one of my lectures. We clicked right away. I invited her for a coffee one day and it was like I could tell her anything."

"And you fell in love with her," you finished for him. You felt hot tears running down your cheeks. You couldn't hold them anymore.

"___, you need to understand…" he took another step closer. “I never meant to hurt you.”

"Well, you definitely did a great job. Why didn't you tell me when you realized that you had feelings for another woman?" You confronted him. By the look on his face, you guessed that was not a question he was expecting. Wiping your tears with the back of your hand, you looked at him expectantly.

“I-I tried… But I couldn’t find the right time…”

He was close enough to take your hands in his. You tried to pull away but he didn’t let you. “Really? In the six months, you’ve known her, you couldn’t mention something?”

“How am I supposed to tell the person who used to be the most important to me that I may have feelings for another woman?”

If you were not feeling like your whole world is crumbling down, you probably should’ve noticed the desolated expression in Jimin’s face.

“You are talking in past tense…” you murmured. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you repeated.

Fresh tears fall down cheeks. You closed your eyes. Suddenly, something warm pressed against your skin. Jimin’s fingers. Your eyes slowly fluttered open. Fixed on his face, it was the first time you realized they were tears on his cheeks. Jimin was crying too. A pair of strong arms encircled your body and pushed you against him. You resisted at first, but he was holding you with so much force. Being between his arms for the last time was the last thing you could handle and you found yourself hugging him back tightly. Three years of your life were slipping between your fingers like water and there was nothing you could do about it.

It was over…

“I’m sorry, ___,” he chanted against your hair. “I am so sorry…”

That night, you drove all the way to the city and never looked back.

When Seokjin finishes the story, Jungkook is speechless.

His heart aches for you, for what happened to you.

“She was broken. It took her a while to recover. She is strong. She just needs some time.”

“I just miss her a lot…”

“I know.”

His friend offers him a smile and continues with his handiwork in the kitchen.

Jungkook stays silent in the next 20 minutes, lost inside his mind. It takes him some time to take everything in. Now, he understands why you reacted the way you did and wishes he handled the situation better. His trail of thought is interrupted when Seokjin places a bowl of homemade noodles in front of him. It smells delicious.

“Eat up. I want your opinion.”

“Thank you.”

The sound of a door being opened catches his attention and Anna appears in the hallway.

“Oh, Kook. You are here,” she greets him. “I haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?” She sits in the stool beside him and squeezes his shoulder affectionately.

“Good. How about you?”

“Full of work but I smell Jinnie’s special noddles and I realized I was starving,” she was and takes a mouthful of noddles.

“Where can I leave ____’s sketchbook?”

“You can leave it at the studio. I’ll tell her you left it there,” Anna says.

Jungkook nods.

The rest of the meal, they talk about random stuff. Jungkook tells them the news about his possible new partnership with a museum and Seokjin talks more about the plans he has for his new restaurant. Soon, the moon sets and Jungkook is full of deserts. Before leaving, he walks to the studio and places the sketchbook on your desk. He takes a blank sheet from Anna’s desk and a pen and he starts writing:

Dear ___…

"So, in conclusion, you ran away because you are scared," she murmurs softly.

“Did you even heard what I just said?”

“I did and you are an idiot,” she stands from the couch and walks to the kitchen. “Do you want more ice cream?”

“Yeah.” You follow after her. “Do you really think I am an idiot for leaving him there?”

“Yes, I do.” She notices your panic. “Look. I know you are afraid. But this is not the same situation. The story isn’t repeating.”

She serves two more balls of chocolate ice cream into the bowls.

"I don’t want to live that hell of self-hatred again. It took me a while to understand it was not because of me and even more to realize Jimin and I were not meant to be. So yeah, I ran. I thought Jungkook would have chosen his ex if he needed to choose. They have a long story."

She squeezes your hand, "And you removed yourself from the equation so he wouldn’t have to choose." You nod. “That’s why I think you are an idiot.”

“Hey!”

“I’m serious. He can choose you. There is a possibility. But you decided to run instead to fight for him.”

She takes the bowls and returns to the living room. Then, she turns Netflix off. You stopped paying attention to the movie anyway. You lay down and place your head on her lap with your bowl of ice cream over your stomach. You feel so tired.

"Let’s get this clear. For what you have told me, it looks like he likes you a lot. You were his muse at the gala!" She starts to pet your hair softly, "Listen. I know it hurts. Sometimes, you just need to take the risk. You can't hide here forever. Whatever that happens, you'll be fine. You have me and your friends."

You shift your body to face her, "Thank you. I really needed to hear that."

She grins, "What is family for?"

You stayed with your sister the whole weekend, eating tons and tons of ice cream and watching tons and tons of movies. It was soothing and calming. It helped you get your mind off the situation. And it gave you time to think.

You were back at your apartment morning-evening after work. You are finishing unpacking when Seokjin enters your room.

“How it went?” He sits at the end of your mattress.

“Pretty good! I missed my sister a lot.”

“Maybe you should visit her more often,” he jokes.

You giggle, "She told me the same thing. How was your weekend?"

Now that all your clothes are scattered all over your bed, you throw all the dirty ones into your laundry basket.

"Good. I tried a new noodle recipe... and Jungkook came looking for you."

He is playing with one of your jeans, folding and unfolding them.

You drop what you are doing immediately, "Really? What did he want?"

You try to keep a serene face but on the inside, you were going crazy. The tiny smile on Seokjin’s lips only confirms that you are not very good at hiding your emotions. You’ve lost your touch.

"He brought your sketchbook back," Seokjin says. "Apparently, you left it at his place. It is at your desk."

"Oh… Thank you."

"I’ll have dinner ready in 20 minutes." Seokjin smiles sweetly and walks out of your room.

You finish unpacking and tidying everything up before going to the studio. You left Jungkook’s place in such a rush that you forgot that your sketchbook was even at his place. You run your fingers over the leather cover. It is one of the fewest sketchbooks that you own that doesn’t have anything to do with your work or designs. It is more like a journal were you draw anything that came to your mind. Flipping through the pages, you remember that one time when Jungkook took you to his favorite park. According to him, the sunset looked majestic from there and he wanted to take some snaps. You were supposed to draw it but Jungkook's beauty was more enticing and you end up drawing him.

You keep going through the pages for a while. The sketchbook is full of memories of him… of memories of your times together. There is this one, where you draw the two of you. But before you arrive at that page, you receive a call from Anna. Dinner is ready. With a smile, you place your sketchbook with the others you’ve finished in the box under your desk unaware of the fact that there is a letter Jungkook wrote for you.

One year later.

It is Monday morning and you are at your office. It is surprising how much work can accumulate in one weekend. The workload helps you to ignore the curious glances Taehyung sends your way since you arrived at the office. It becomes pretty annoying at the meeting you both attend to check some details about the newest collection before sending it for approval.

Around 11 am, you go to the coffee station to make yourself some tea. Taehyung is there, too, taking some coffee. And there’s the stare again. “Some say a picture lasts longer.”

He chokes on his coffee. You take your favorite mug from the countertop and purr hot water. Today is chamomile day.

"Are you okay?" You ask him. He nods like he has not been acting weirdly all morning.

"Yeah. I am okay." He leaves his now empty cup in the sink. "Do you, by any chance, have received any texts or calls today?"

"From someone in particular?"

"You know what? Forget it. I'll see you at lunch."

And he walks out of the coffee station before you could ask him what he meant.

Yep. He is definitely acting really weird.

The rest of the morning passes quickly and you don't have the opportunity to confront Taehyung about his weird behavior. He is hiding something. That much is true.

Exactly one hour before lunch, your phone buzzes, and for a split second your heart rate increases until you see the caller ID. It is your sister.

"Hello?"

"Hey, stranger!" she chimes. "How are you?"

"I'm fine! A little busy. And you?"

"Good! At what time you leave your office?"

"At 5PM. Why?"

"I have a surprise for you: I am in the city! So, I was wondering if you want to have dinner with me today."

"Wait, is everything okay?" You sit straight. If something is wrong, she would have told you, right?

"Yeah, silly. Don't worry. I came to buy some stuff and, of course, visit you. So, do you want to go to dinner or what?"

You giggle, relieved. "Sure." You start to think of possible choices. It is the third time your sister comes to the city. You want to take her to somewhere special. "Do you want to go to Seokjin's new restaurant?"

"That sounds perfect."

"Good. Let me text you the address."

You put the phone on speaker to find the message with the address Seokjin sent to you a while ago. You know how to arrive there but you don't remember the street name.

You do small talk with your sister as you do your search, but your Skype goes crazy out of nowhere.

"Hey," you interject between her story. "I will text you the address later. My boss is looking for me."

"Ok. Don't worry. I'll see you tonight."

You arrive at 7:15pm at Seokjin's restaurant.

In less than 6 months, the restaurant is now one of the most exclusive restaurants and one of the best places to eat. That's why the place is at full capacity for Monday night and there are even more people outside waiting for a table or place at the bar.

Tonight Seokjin is the host. He receives you with a heartwarming smile.

"Your usual table?" he asks.

“Yes, please.”

He nods, “You are lucky you know the owner,” he adds with a smirk and you roll your eyes.

“Thanks, Jinnie.”

You walk through the restaurant. The table you like the most is located in one of the corners, near the kitchen. It is kind of hidden but you can see the whole restaurant from there. You’ve spent hours and hours there sketching the people that come by.

Your eyes scan the menu as you wait for your sister's arrival. Jin adds new recipes to the menu every once in a while.

"Does this sit is taken?"

You raise your head to look at the newcomer and you do not expect what you see...

"Jungkook?"

For a split second, you think you might be hallucinating. But no. He is really there. It is the first time you see him in a year. He smiles sheepishly and you remember that there's a question you haven't answered yet…

"I'm waiting for my sister…"

And then, it clicks.

Do you, by any chance, have received any texts or calls today?

"You planned this with my sister," his smile widening is your confirmation. "But, you don't know her. How?"

"We have a mutual friend."

"Taehyung and Seokjin knew about this," you accuse.

Jungkook nods, "The guys helped me to plan this. So, can I sit?"

"Yeah, I guess," you reply. "Is my sister even in the city?"

"Yes. She is waiting for you with Anna at your place."

You don’t know how to reply to that, so you stay silent. You take the opportunity to look at him. He looks… different. His hair is longer. He is wearing a plain grey shirt, jeans, and a leather jacket that fits him so well. He gained weight. The sharpness of his face is gone. His lips look more full in the way they stretch into a smirk. There’s a spark shining on his eyes. He knows you are checking him out.

You clear your throat.

"So, why did you take so much trouble when you just could have called me yourself?"

Jungkook shrugs, "I thought you wouldn't have come if I was the one who contacted you."

Before you could reply, one of the waitresses approaches the table.

"Are you ready to order?"

Jungkook gazes at the menu, "I'll have the Special Noodles, please."

She nods and turns to you, "And you, ___? The usual?"

"Yes. Thank you, Eli," you reply with a smile.

"Right away," she says and walks to the kitchen.

Once she is gone, the heavy atmosphere around you returns.

"Did you broke your phone?" You finally ask him the question you were dying to since he appeared.

"I know. I'm so sorry" he takes your hand in his. It feels so good to feel his warmth again. "You don't know how much I wanted to call. Or even go to your place to see you in person. But I made a promise to myself: I wouldn't contact you until I was in peace with myself."

It is selfish to feel this way. You know it. He did the right thing, but a part of you resents him. He disappeared. For one year, you didn’t know anything about him. Now, he appears out of nowhere and expects you’d receive him with open arms.

“Jungkook, why am I here?"

He seems confused, "What do you mean? I wanted to talk to you."

"About what?"

"About us?"

"Is there really an 'us' to talk about?"

"What?"

You shift in your seat. “You left without saying goodbye. With no type of explanation.”

He shakes his head, “What do you mean? I left the letter. Did you not read it?”

You frown, more confused by the minute. “What letter?”

“The one that I hid in your sketchbook. Do you really don’t know what am I talking about?” You shrug. “Well, that explains a lot,” he chuckles awkwardly.

“So, what was in that letter?”

He smiles over his glass of water. “It explained why I left, why I did it, and what happened with Zoe.”

“Yeah, about that… What happened? Because all this time I thought you ran away with her.”

A smirk appeared on his lips. It is not the type you like. It is the smug one. It makes you want to smack him on his pretty face.

“We talked. We resolved things. We stayed as friends,” he replies nonchalantly.

“G-good,” you manage to say and his smile widens. “Where were you staying, anyway?”

“I stayed a while with Yoongi and little with Zoe and her boyfriend. He is really cool.”

“That bastard!” you yelled and sank in your seat when a few customers turned to look at you. “When I asked him if he knew where did you go, he lied.”

Jungkook smiles apologetically, “He promised not to tell you.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you huff, a little annoyed at Yoongi. He is going to hear you out the next time you see him. “You could have texted me or something. Do you know how much time is one year? That means I spent 365 days wondering if I would ever see you again." Jungkook opens his mouth but you raise your hand, "Please, let me finish."

He nods.

"One year is enough to meet new people…" You finish what you wanted to say.

Jungkook's smile falters, eyes widening, "Ohhhh… Does that mean you met someone?"

"I had a couple of dates," you confess, watching carefully his reaction. "But the two of them went really wrong."

His face illuminates at your words, "Why?"

"Because they were not you, idiot!"

He starts to laugh at your outburst. Wow, you forgot how much you liked his smile. His eyes turn into beautiful crescendos and his nose scrunched. His laugh is contagious you start to laugh back.

"I'm really glad to hear that."

A comfortable silence falls between you two. At the same time, Eli arrives with the order.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook moans after his first bite. “They are better than the last ones I ate.”

“Well, Seokjin had a year to perfect the recipe,” you mock.

While you eat, you talk about random stuff: how the recent partnership with a museum went; the brand new collection you and Taehyung are designing from scratch. Stuff like that. It almost feels like time hasn’t passed at all.

“So, you didn’t answer my question,” you say once you have ordered the desert.

He takes a sip of his water. “What question?”

“Why am I here?”

“Oh, I wanted to see you and talk to you,” he says, suddenly shy. “I know you didn’t read the letter I left for you. But I want to explain to you, in person, why I left…”

It doesn’t make sense. How can someone who looks as good as Jungkook does can be shy?

“Go on.”

“I know it was selfish to leave. But I needed to do it. I was not myself when we met. I was lost. Even when you helped me to raise my feet again, I was not entirely okay. I left because I didn’t want to be emotionally codependent of you. If we are together, is because we want to, not because we need each other to survive. The time I spent away helped me to rediscover myself. Now, I am more me than I have ever been. I hope you will give me another chance.”

His beautiful words make your heart flutter. He is looking at you with so much intensity and hopes that you feel bad for being cold with him for the past hour. You stay silent for a moment, though. You suppress the smile that tugs the corner of your lips. Maybe you enjoy a little bit much the way his expression turns in panic.

“Well,” you finally speak up. His shoulders tense in anticipation. “Taehyung and I have an important dinner next week. Some important designers are coming to see our collection. Taehyung is taking his girlfriend. So… Would you like to come with me? You know… As my date?”

The end. ♡

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts scenarios #bts angst #bts fluff #bts fanfics #jungkook x reader #bts #story: love sewn #jvnghxope

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nightmaretyrantvantas · 4 years

Text

When tensions break too often- a dark side au story

So I got my ideas back for some angst and some tension in this au, and I just couldnt resist writing it. Plus its a good way to warm me back up into doing things for this au.

This is also a bit of a deeper dive into the dynamics of darkside! Virgil and the other dark sides and how they all bounce and thrive off each other, as well a some backstory and peeks at the full effects of Deceit leaving( jealousy is with the dark sides but is only mentioned, he currently doesnt make much of an appearance in this one in particular, he gets his own angst later)

This was fun to write, not gonna lie. Its been awhile an this is gonna be long so buckle up with me

I also got alot of inspiration to finally write this out(and revise parts of it) due in part to @aimasup ‘s recent comics and writings about their kid sides(which I love, like alot alot and I hope they dont mind me getting super inspired by it!)

ships: Past prinxiety, past anxciet, implied intruxiety, implied intrulogical, implied intruloxiety, implied one sided remus x wrath, implied past demus, implied current roceit

Im putting a trigger warning here for cussing, fighting(verbal and physical), descriptions of panic attacks and emotional breakdowns, violence, gross and inappropriate language, some body horror descriptions, as well as implied unsympathetic sides(all sides are morally grey but the perspective is biased towards the dark sides as its seen from Wrath’s view- keep that in mind)

Things are about to get angsty my friends but i promise it ends happy(for once in this au)

I hope you guys enjoy

~~~~~~~~~~

Wrath Sanders had a lot more patience then almost everyone gave him credit for. Most considered him the biggest hothead there was, going off at the first irritation. But, the truth was he was eerily patient...Sure he may simmer and seethe and hold onto things in unhealthy grudges, but he never lost his cool as often as some would want you to believe.

Wrath Sanders kept his cool during many things, even if that was the last thing he wanted to do.

He had sat back through many things, biting his tongue to hold back the venom and yelling and grinding his teeth together in anger and forced himself to sit through many many things that happened around him out of respect- out of a deep fucking respect- for Virgil’s Fear’s Anxiety’s authority. Instead, he watched shit go down over and over again and held himself back from reacting towards the problem, focusing his energy on the recovery.

But, the most recent event was his last fucking straw.

It had happened seemingly out of nowhere, Wrath had been slumped down on their shitty lumpy couch boredly watching some dumb movie. It was getting later in the night, around 10 maybe 11 and he had one of Remus’s crappy beers partially drank in his hand. He was just getting up to change the movie or turn it off all together when the whole house seemed to shift violently, the walls seeming to tremble. There was a moment of confusion before he heard it.

“ Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

His whole body jolted to its feet unsteadily as the sound of Anxiety’s pain wreaked scream filled the house to an almost deafening volume as it distorted and deepened. His body moved before his mind, lurching over the couch and running for the source of the scream as another one wailed out even louder than the first, the sound muffling the breaking bottle and violently shaking the walls with their reverb. He heard other sounds too underneath, glass shattering heavy objects banging and wood splintering, wallpaper shredding. A third screech rang out, cutting itself in half with echoing high pitched sobs.

He hadnt been the first to make it to his room.

Wrath watched as he turned the corner in time to see Remus destroy Anxiety’s door with his morning star, a wild and desperately freaked out look to his glowing eyes as wood splintered and gave out under the weapon, some sending cuts into his cheeks. The creative side was then out of sight in a flash, forcing his way into the room yelling as to be heard over the screams.

Remembering the pain, the fear the absolute panic in Remus’s normally confident voice sent a deeper chill down his spine than the screams had.

“ Virgy??!! Fuck fuck fuck fUCK!! Virgy no no! Its me dammit!! Fuck FUCK FUCK!! No no NO! Virgy virgy virgy storm cloud creepy cryptid no no nnonononono look at me no no look at me cmon honey look at me not those at me. me me me me..” His voice continued, shaky and softening as the screams faded into heart wrenching sobs and high pitched hyperventilating gasps. Remus continued to speak, morning star thudding against carpet and a softer thud sounding.

“ Hey hey hey hey hey hey...hey hey hey I got you I got you I’m here im still here....i’m always here for ya honey...I got you now I got you see? Yeah yeah thats me....just focus on me....cmon cmon stormy cant pass out on me now...follow my breathing lets breathe together...in...out...in out...now....tell me five things you can see....cmon honey you got this just look up im here right here...”

The sight through the broken door haunted him, made his chest throb hard and bile burn his throat.

The bedroom before him was completely trashed. It was as if something feral and destructive had ripped it from its very foundation. Every piece of furniture, big or small, was broken and smashed apart, the anxious side’s bed and couch ripped into multiple pieces. Every shelf or flat surface had faced an even worse fate, thrown around and shattered into various pieces that had been strewn around the room along with glass fragments from anything unfortunate enough to have been made of glass. Papers and books were severed and torn apart viciously, and the wallpaper was slashed in huge wide cute, some of the slashes cutting deep into the wall underneath. And in the middle of the disaster was Remus and Anxiety. Long, protruding limb like dark shapes sprouted from the purple side’s back, twitching and trembling with adrenaline along with his heaving, hunched over shaking form. Remus was there in front of him, knelt down to the balled up figure and slowly but surely coaxing him up enough to pull him into his arms and rock him back and forth as he kept speaking to him. It took Wrath a few seconds of his vision adjusting to the room’s darkness to realize Remus had more cuts on him, and why.

Strings.

Millions of purple tinted, tautly pulled strings, like a tightly woven and intricate sickening spider web filled the room from top to bottom as if trying to shield the two in its depths. He could see parts of them hanging limp, likely from Remus forcing his way through to the other. He watched in a horrified shock as Anxiety’s body lurched and jerked with his piercing sobs, hand harshly digging into his scalp through his hood and shadowy claws threatening to rip said hood open. He could see many of the strings connected directly to various parts of his body and to the eight extra things on his back and it made him shudder. The room radiated a sort of fear and panic that was infectious, suffocating even. But he refused to leave the doorway and abandon the two there, in that too dense darkness.

He watched Remus manage to gather up the shorter side into his chest and rock him more, practically curling into a ball over him. He was still talking, his voice softening to the point he couldnt make it out anymore from the door. But he could see his expression. God his expression mightve been what pushed him past his bullshit accepting limit.

Remus’s face was grim, any traces of his grins and normal attitude gone. His eyes were glowing in a dark, dangerously violent fury but the way they stayed trained on Anxiety kept them, for the time being at least, soft and remorseful. There was so much pain there in that focused gaze, pain regret sorrow a disturbing amount of fear and understanding. His mouth moved with words not meant for Wrath to hear, soft gentle coos and reassurances too intimate to be heard by anyone else but the one trembling harshly in his strong arms. Brows furrowed and it made Wrath feel even colder to realize his hands, hands that were holding the other up and petting his hair through that black hood and rubbing between the spidery appendages, were trembling.

Remus was trembling.

After awhile the strings seem to fade away into nothing, those shadowy limbs following them scarily slow. Once that happened and the worst of the darkeness seemed to dissipate was when Wrath dared to take a few stiff steps into the room, debris crunching too loudly under his boots. He saw Remus stiffen and his eyes flicker up like a cornered, ready to attack animal before relaxing, glow never leaving.

“ W...wh..r...R-remus...”

“ Des...Dessy brat...h-hey spitfire do me a solid and go open my door ok? Dont worry itll lead to my bedroom...just...go open it for me...will you...?” Wrath’s voice failed him after that and he nodded, backing out of that suffocation and away into the brighter lit hall rushing from the room to push open the dark stained door further down. He turned around to go back, to try to help somehow...anyway he could, when he watched Remus instead picking his way out of the mess and into the hall, their leader cradled in his arms limply like a small sleeping child. Not a sound came from either of them as he stalked through the hall and into his room, a single nod dismissing Wrath before the door swung shut in front of him...

That was where he was drawing a line. Enough had been enough.

Wrath had sat back through many things, too many fucking things than he should have. He held back his doubts when Virgil and Roman had first started seeing each other when they were younger and dumber, had held himself and barely held Remus back from mauling the so called “good” creativity when things had gone awry and he had broken Virgil’s heart and left him in bitter, resentful pieces for them to pick up and help mend back together. He held back every time Thomas had, intentionally or unintentionally, slighted and undermined their jobs as a part of him, of their importance, of Virgil’s and Remus’s importance to him. He had sat back through the aftermath of ever fight with the “light” sides and with thomas, through every dismissal and banishment and arguement and accusation. He had helped and been there through countless sleepless nights and previous breakdowns and panic attacks between all four three of them, and he had been here, had been forced not to retaliate as per Virgil’s simple request.

“ Dont Des....dont go after them...Im forbidding it got it? Dont do it. it isnt going to be worth it...please...”

It had always been the please, soft and defeated that made him obey. Not the angry snaps and lashing out, not the cruel words and push and shove they all did for so long, but the plea in that word...the vulnerability it revealed.

He had sat through Deceit’s slow distancing from the rest of them...and his eventually leaving them for the light sides and the ensuing pain and breakdown that his leaving left behind.

It had splintered them, had struck both Virgil and Remus harder and more painfully than either side would verbally admit. Wrath had been forced to do nothing but helplessly watch it break them and break himself too, and try to clean up the aftermath best he could.

But this breakdown, seeing the side that had always stubbornly refused to buckle or back down reduced to a screaming sobbing wreck on the floor, seeing the other side he had always seen be nothing but strong and indifferent to everything thrown with a grin shaking in fear and softly pleading was too much.

He had stayed down, seething, resentment festering for years. too many years without an outlet.

He remembered the hand that had been held out to him all those years ago. Remembered coming along a little bit before Deceit ever did...and looking up from where he was angrily crying on the floor to see two figures before him. One was shorter, with two sets of brightly glowing purple and green eyes and a big black hoodie that was too big for him and messy hair that fell into his face. Behind him was someone much taller, with wild hair and a single streak of white in it, eyes feral and gleeful i a way that made him tense and made him mad through his tears. He was dressed extravagantly, like a prince or even a king grinning unnaturally wide. But his focus narrowed on the purple one, whose dark claw tipped hand stretched out in front of him in an offering. When Anger had put his head back in his knees to cry more he felt an arm drape over him. His head snapped up and he saw the princely one next to him with a softer expression, hand rubbing his back a little.

“ Hey....hey its ok Anger. Whatcha crying for? You did your job! Pretty damn well too! You were amazing the way you had Thomas screaming at that bully!” A clawed hand smacked him making him yelp and he looked in front of him to see Fear knelt in front of him with a look of understanding, a bitter smile on his face.

“ He’s right you know? You were only doing your job...you didnt realize how out of hand things would spiral and thats ok. How they reacted isnt your fault...”

They offered him a place to go, a place to thrive. Screw the others that refused to understand and stay with them. And Fear led them both deeper down the halls by the hand, making sure he didnt get lost

He was done standing down.

Someone needed to pay.

~ ~ ~

If he was honest, Wrath wasnt sure how long he sat outside the intrusive side’s shut door, sitting slumped against the opposing wall in a thick, deafening silence. It mustve been long enough for him to drift into an uneasy, restless sleep. His dreams filled up with memories of younger years, of pranks and scuffles and violent roughhousing the three of them got up to being on their own, of Remus making meals and running around frantic to keep both Anger and Fear from accidentally killing themselves or each other on something. Of Deceit hazily joining their trio, hesitant and quiet but able to snap back just as viciously and able to rough house back just as good as the rest of them after awhile. Of days filled with shrieks, squeals, bickering and shrilly laughter, of restless nights where they all broke into Remus’s room and dog piled on his bed to sleep. Of slowly growing up and watching Virgil come out of his quiet observance and transition from Fear to Anxiety and taking charge as a leader among them, of Remus stepping back and letting him with full confidence as his right hand and partner in crime in most cases. Of seeing Deceit come out of his terrified shell and blossom into a belovedly bitchy and...supposedly self assured side...of Virgil’s echoing screams that seem to reverberate through his very core...

He jolted awake at the sound of a door creaking, and sluggishly lifted his head to see a pair of familiar scuffled riding boots, laces fraying if you looked close enough. He lifted his gaze higher and soon locked onto tired green eyes that were dark and dull from exhaustion. Lifeless was a term he could describe those eyes with and that fact made him briefly queasy and cold. He looked tired, so very tired, and older. He was older than them both....but right now he looked much older than he was...There was a silence between them for a few moments that allowed Wrath to rouse himself up a little more.

“ Dessy....for all thats unholy...what’re you still doin out here dumbass? Did you stay there all night?”

‘Dessy’...‘ Des’ the nickname eased some of his shot nerves. Ever since they were kids they had joked that his name shouldve been “ Despair” instead of “ Daniel Williams” because of his very present pessimism and negative outlook. And soon it became so much more fitting that his nickname became “ Des” short for despair...or in Remus’s case “ Dessy” as he oh so enjoyed calling him. The annoying nickname was familiar though, and it helped him relax enough to speak. His voice was rough and awkwardly quiet in the small hallway, as if he’d been the one screaming.

“ I....wanted to make sure he’d be ok...” He trailed off, voice faltering with a clear shake. It sounded pathetic and weak to him.

But maybe, just this once pathetic and weak wasnt a bad thing. Because at the sound of his voice, and his dumb reason, Wrath saw some life flicker back into the older side’s eyes, some of their glow returning. Remus let out a tired, exasperated sigh and gave him a small sad smile, his expression softened into something sorrowful yet fond. That fondness, that softness sent warm tingling butterflies fluttering through his chest like it always did despite the grim circumstances. Remus let out a strained chuckle and shook his head, pulling his door shut with a quiet click.

“ He’s asleep now ya little Tasmanian devil...let him rest and we’ll check on him in a bit...now cmon, lets go make some breakfast and watch some movies or something....lets go up up.” With a grunt Des allowed himself to be heaved up by the armpits to his feet and didnt protest Remus wrapping an arm around him and guiding him down to the living room. He didnt want to see that pained exhaustion on his face...he needed to do something

and had a problem he was finally going to get rid of.

“ No Des you cant.”

There was that feeling as familiar to him as breathing bubbling in his chest, that hot smoldering feeling of anger or irritation igniting. It flushed out the cold he had been feeling in an unpleasant way but he ignored that part, pressing his palms flat on the table with a bit of force as he narrowed his orange eyes at the one across from him. He felt something like acid stinging his mouth and begging to be spilled free but he did as he usually did and grit his teeth to hold the worst of it at bay. Pushing it down. Holding back again.

“ Not again Remus. I refuse to just fucking sit back and do nothing again. They need to be taught a lesson! This is all their fault- all his fault--”

“ Even if it is so fucking what?! You blindly lashing out at them is only going to make things worse I can promise you that--”

“ Like hell it will!! They act like they can just walk all over us and treat us like fucking trash and cause things like last night and you think im lashing out blindly when--”

“ --When youre temper is as violent as a fucking feral mongoose--” “ Dont call me a fucking mongoose beetlejuice reject!!” “ Oh shut up and sit back down you twerp!!”

They went back and forth across the table, both their tempers and volumes raising as they fought. That bubbling feeling was twisting into a boiling, growing burning that began filling his chest and core. Why was Remus not agreeing with him for fucks sake--

His vision started tinging red.

“ Look brat you think I fucking like this?! You think im not pissed the fuck off?! Because I am! I’m beyond pissed off about this!! About the fact I know exact who and what caused Virgy’s breakdown and about the fact it happened at all!! I fucking get it!! But even I know you shouldnt just storm in there to take off trying to take off their fucking heads when youre too upset! Youre not thinking clearly enough for that kind of confrontation dammit im trying to protect you in this too!!” Remus’s words were loud, ruthless, and hard hitting. There were angry and forceful and made sense.

Plenty of sense.

And somehow that made him even angrier.

“ Oh? Ooooh! I get it, I fucking get it! Now that youve been sweetening up fucking logic youre suddenly the first to fucking defend them hurting our fucking best friend--”

“--oh for fucks sake bitch Logan has nothing to fucking do with this!! Im not fucking defending them either!! I swear to god im just trying to--” “ --to what huh?! Keep on his good side so you can get in his fucking pants?! Or so you can fucking push it aside and laugh about it later like one of them?!--” “ Goddammit you fucking stubborn brat you dont know what youre even talking about--” “ I dont know what im talking about?! I DONT KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT?!?!” His voice rose much louder, his own trembling distortion coming out and getting spat at the side who had helped fucking raise him like venom.

“ I dont know what im talking about?!! You mean like how I NEVER seem to know what the fuck im talking about?! Like how Virgil never knows what hes talking about or how you never seem to know what youre fucking talking about when your talking to them?! God now youre even starting to sound like those pretentious bastards!! Dont know what im talking about?! What part do I not know what im talking about Intrusive Thoughts?! huh??!!” His breath was coming out in ragged, squeaking pants as his eyes began to burn “Which fucking part do I not fucking know?! The part where ive had to sit back and bottle up my rage at being pushed aside and degraded and judged and dismissed or having to sit back for fucking years and watch you and virgil get hurt and hurt and ignored and dismissed and talked down and insulted and broken and having to swallow my protests of it?! Or of knowing last night fucking happened because Deceit decided to fully live up to his fucking name and abandoned us for those bastards and left us alone without a second thought and got away with it?! Or the fucking fact youre too busy trying to bone down logic to even fucking care--!!”

Smack!

It came so fast he hadnt had time to prepare for it before his head was snapped to the side and pain exploding in his face, on the cheek near the jaw in particular as he staggered to the ground a good foot and his eyes eerily slow dragged themselves from looking at the kitchen cabinets to Remus, who still had his fist outstretched near where it had collided with his face, his chest heaving almost like his own was, eyes wild and just as angry before a flash of realization went through them.

“ ....Des....fuck...i...you...” Nothing too coherent came babbling out Remus’s mouth, he was still way too hoped up on anger fueled adrenaline. His fist was starting to tremble and Wrath watched his pupils dilate a few times in his attempt to calm down.

And then there was something like an explosion as that burning feeling warped into a raging fire and Wrath let out a infuriated, inhuman shriek and lunged for Remus with a full intent to rip out his stupid fucking throat as his rage consumed him.

The two fighting sides went crashing into the living room loudly nearly knocking over the couch in their wake, both of them screaming and Wrath inhumanly screeching in an almost reptilian manner as he clawed and punched wherever he could reach. Remus wasnt just lying down and taking it either, yelling in loud angry spats of soon unraveling nonsense as he fought back mercilessly, throwing the other into walls, into furniture, throwing punches and kicks of his own. But nothing seemed to slow the orange side down and he struck back with slowly growing claws and fangs and something sharp growing out of his hair, angry tears burning his eyes and his voice too warbled and distorted to even be understood anymore, both their forms twitching and subtly shifting and glowing as they tried to rip each other to shreds, things fluid dripping and twisting lashing out from Remus’s back. Remus was stronger, he always had been, but Wrath had a seemingly endless stream of fury and adrenaline that kept him getting back up and charging in for more, the room being wrecked between them. Maybe things would have gone too far if it hadnt been brought to a hard, screeching halt.

By the time they could both blink they were ripped away from each other, both now uselessly struggling as they were entangled in roughly restraining strings that glowed a eye straining, furious purple color and seemed to tighten and wrap around them more the more they fought and struggled for freedom. Their indecipherable words and incoherent screams where just as ruthlessly cut short as strings wrapped warningly around their throats, not tight enough to actually choke or hurt them, but firm enough to be very present and felt, their voices being quite literally silenced the moment it touched looped once and touched the spot over their vocal cords. There was a horrifically tense silence as their mouths moved in spat insults and screams that never made a sound.

“......that....that is enough out of both of you.”

Virgil’s voice cut through the room like a cleaver, the tone dead, cold, and just as pissed off as they were. At first they couldnt see him, manic eyes darting around until Wrath saw the Duke’s eyes trained on top of the stairs near the hallway, pupils down to small pinpricks. When he glared over in that direction he fully understood and felt all that anger draining and quickly turning into a queasy, cold dread that made him want to cower.

That radiation of fury, or bone chilling fear and a kind of suffocating anxiety that made it hard to breathe and a panic that made them both feel like they were perpetually falling and simultaneously drowning swept over the living room like a flood, the corners and ceilings slowly developing intricate pulsing webs or strings that seem to absorb the rooms light as Virgil stepped, no, half crawled down the stairs and into view. Both sets of eyes were visibly, the whites dyed a void like inky black where his brightly burning purple and green irises cut into them coldly. Something sharp and gleaming poked from his scowl and revealed themselves as fangs as his snarl curled his lips. His hood was up hiding most of his pale skin but couldnt hide the flecks and scatterings of void like, inky and purple spots dusting parts of his slowly purple tinging skin. His hands, snapping out from his sleeves to grip the stair railing were fully blotched in that void, fingers curling into razor sharp claws that strings hung stickily too. The eight dark appendages, opaque and gangly half carried him down faster than usual, the ends digging into the carpet as if for stability. A shrill hiss whistled through Anxiety’s teeth and the panic inducing feeling of being stared at at being excruciatingly examined came from every corner, growing worse and worse as he stalked closer with silent movements.

“ What....the actual fuck are you two doing.” The words with sharp edged and cold, tone flat and tired. They both just stared helplessly, unable to move or speak and both beginning to mindlessly panic. Virgil blinked and a gust of air like an exhale swepted through the room and....left no traces of those fearful horrified feelings in its wake. Both of their feet thudded mutedly against the carpeted floor as the strings released them and retreated back into nothing, disappearing from all around them as if they had never been there to begin with...the room never dimmer than it had started in the morning light and the three of them stood there in silence. Any hints of inhumanity were gone from Anxiety’s form, leaving his two still glowing eyes losing their luster and leaving dull annoyance behind, no fangs, no extra limbs, no claws, no void dotting his skin. When he spoke he took a slow breath, as if unable to breathe just like them.

“....I...I mean it you two...what. the actual fuck did you two wake me up with.” Even his voice had returned to normal, if not for a bit shaky and hoarse from last nights screaming. Wrath saw his eyes were bloodshot, and his face was tinged with blotchy pink and was puffy from crying and something clenched in his chest, thudding hard. He looked at Remus, who was panting from lack of breath, eyes dull and exhausted and pain filled again, injuries from their fight blaring from the blood decorating his body and clothes.

He had done that....he’d lost control again...

“ Im dont want to repeat myself a third fucking time. What the fuck did you--”

“ I...This is my fault I started it...” Both of them looked at him, gazes drilling into him. But he let his head drop as shame took over, choking him a little. This was his family and they were already hurting and look what he’d done-

“Oh piss off Dessperato. It aint only your fault I fucked up too. Look virgy we were both tired and coming off that dumb worry adrenaline shit and we started arguing...and we got waaaaaay too heated and decided to beat the living shit out of each other...sorry we woke you you were suppose to sleep later.” Virgil let out a sigh and rubbed his temples, pulling off his hood and shaking out his messy bedhead.

“ Is that all that happened? Im not deaf and the doors arent sound blockers...” “ Then why are you asking.” Virgil and Remus as a bit of a stare off before finally, for the first time that morning all the life slowly returned to his eyes and he gave a toothy, blood streaked grin and started to laugh. The other two looked at him like he had fully lost it. Then Virgil’s lips twitched up and Des rolled his eyes and failed to stop the grin spreading across his face or the chuckles that he managed to choke out. Within a few minutes all three of them were laughing on the messy living room floor half sprawled over each other and Jealously bemusedly deciding they werent capable of making breakfast and making it for them all instead. Des watched half delerious from his exhaustion as Remus cackled and kicked his leg, just to laugh more when he kicked back.

“ I swear to god no more violence out of you two or I swear I’ll...” Remus let out a snort and gripped the other’s chin between his fingers sensually tugging their faces closer with a smug grin

“ You’ll what Hot Topic? Lock me in the closet again? Or send me reeling with nightmares and hallucinations~ Oh please virgy baby I dare you too~” His tone was light and suggestive, quirking his eyebrows up teasingly for added effect. Virgil snorted and and grinned back leaning close as well.

“ Oh dont start teeempting me with those sweet talkins about hallucinations dr. Hideous~ I might just take you up on that...” Then he flicked his nose and shove him away, both of them laughing. Des was about to try to give them the time to themselves when Remus yanked him between them waggling his finger disapprovingly, making him whack the other’s shoulder with a affectionate “ fuck RIGHT off” and for awhile, in that growing morning light, things felt ok.

It had taken alot of talking, and another arguement almost breaking out between himself and virgil to convince him to back down from confronting the light sides violently. Virgil brought a surprising amount of identical points to remus, while also reminding him that reacting to violently will only make them ignore and dismiss him further. Des was very reluctant, and stubborn, but ultimately he trusted Virgil’s and Remus’s judgement. He trusted Virgil’s reasoning and that he was looking out for him- protecting him. So when he asked him, softly, to refrain from trying to handle it on my own and let him deal with it Des had agreed, obeying his request.

And then a real tipping point pushed him back over the edge.

It was a few weeks later. He remembered distinctly because the mindscape was abuzz with excitement, even the dark sides were effected by Thomas’s unbridled joy. But Virgil had said he was getting a bad feeling...and headed off to the main part of the mindscape that morning. Things were quiet after, calm even. At some point him and Remus had started playing cards, though Remus was blatantly cheating and they were bickering.

Things were fine...things were calm...

Then Virgil crashing into the living room breathing harshly and in the midst of a bad panic attack.

They both jumped up and Remus caught the other in his arms, trying to calm him down and figure out what happened. It took a long time and for awhile they only got bits and pieces out

Thomas

A callback, a big important one he and Roman were thrilled for

Patton, something with both Patton and Deceit

Neither of them agreeing but both of them fighting Virgil

some kind of important friend event on the same day

they had argued, they had fought, there had been yelling by the climax of it

Him and Roman went at each others throat despite the fact he had been trying to help roman’s cause

Deceit fought him alot too, trying to cut him off at every chance in a form of fear response, out of defense

Him and patton argued and fought badly for the first time since Thomas’s last breakup

He thought logan would try to see his side and be a neutral party

Logan was getting tug of warred into agreeing to arguments to push him out

They kept trying to shut him down and dismiss him, they stopped listening fairly

Virgil had to pull out a form shift in front of thomas

He had to use his influences and fear to get them to stop talking over him and twisting his words

it only made things worse, and arguments harsher

They rejected him and his attempts to help more

He started having a panic attack mid argument

He thought logan and patton tried to help but they were getting drowned out by Roman and Dee

There was so much yelling, things that should never be said got thrown

They told Virgil he never does anything but make Thomas worse

Thomas finally nearly screamed for them all to stop and half asked half pleaded for Virgil to just leave until everyone calmed down

He lashed out and hit someone, he wasnt even sure who before he fled, not hearing them yell after him. It mightve been patton, or thomas, or maybe logan

And then his panic attack got worse and neither of them could get another understandable word from him.

In the end Remus eventually got him called down, after a good couple hours of trying, and it took everything in Wrath not to scream and destroy the room.

All Virgil did was try to help, and look what their....their bullshit left him. He was beyond seething at this point, he was fuming he was downright practically breathing fire and shaking from the effort to keep himself still. Remus gave him a cautious warning look, as if he was sizing up one of his many monsters in the imagination and debating if it would kill him or not and Virgil lifted his head to choke out for him to stand down, and to not do anything. Wrath had nodded silently and waited, watching Remus help him upstairs to his room to grab his headphones, and hopefully calm down more. Once they were out of sight he made a decision. He knew the consequences of it, knew theyd both be furious and Virgil would make hell for him for it. But none of that mattered to him

For the first time in many many years...he disobeyed Anxiety’s direct request.

It took a few days to find an opening, but once he saw one he took it, rising up in the big main living room, unknowingly in the middle of a video brainstorm.

Wrath always seemed to appear near the couch, between Roman and Thomas. Just seeing them made his blood boil more than it had been.

It was easy to say he scared the shit out of most of them by just appearing, his entire presence sucking the air from the room and making it hot and tense, a cracked dam waiting to break. Itd been months since he’d seen them face to face, and for a moment his senses got overwhelmed by everything.

But he let that fuel his anger further and he growled for them to fess up. Which one had said it. Roman had of course jumped to the defensive of his friends and that was all Wrath needed.

He lost it, pointing and yelling and accusing Roman. Blaming him for it. Roman didnt back down and fought back, and the fight only seemed to worsen. The others tried to interject, and maybe if Wrath’s vision hadnt been blood red from his fury he wouldve seen they were trying to diffuse the situation and calm things down, talk things out. But he ignored that, whipping around and lashing out at them too

“ Wrath you need to step back and take a deep breath! Youre getting irrational!”

“ Wrath kiddo please we dont have to yell and scream about this Logan’s right lets all take a deep breath ok?”

“ Like hell! Im not going to just let him force his way in here and yell and scream and pretend its ok and we can talk!”

“ Roman please!” “ro stop getting angry back is just making all of it worse the others are right we need to be calm or we’ll never get through to him.”

That voice. Silken and soaked with caution. He whirled around on Deceit and snarled pinning him to the wall without thinking.

“ This is all your fucking fault! Youre the reason they keeping hurting and virgil has breakdowns that put him out of commission for days!! Youre part of the reason Remus locks himself away beating himself up. they trusted you!! We all trusted you and you decided to fuck us over and throw us out like trash!! Was it worth it?!?! Was being here worth breaking the people you grew up with you and loved you?! Well?!” There was yelling around them, and he thought briefly he heard Remus’s and Virgil’s voices behind him as well. But now all that anger, that pushed down bitterness and resentment finally had a target and he couldnt focus on anything else. He didnt even heard Deceits struggling answer as he tried to claw him off, his different eyes wide and his mouth moving in words that werent registering.

“ -youre right ok?! Fuck youre not right at all--fuck fuck I get it youre angry and I fucked up with this, this isnt my fault and I havent been trying to figure out ways to fix it! I totally havent been beating myself up for what happened a few days ago with virgil and I dont regret it ok--” THe words blended together in his head, there were hands on his shoulders ripping him away the the freaked out snake and shoving him into the couch. He snarled but froze when he realized He was staring at the very formal business end of Remus’s morning star, inched from his nose and Remus standing over him with a dark look over his face...dark and upset The red faded from his vision and he blinked rapidly, eyes burning again and jaw aching from how hard he’d been clenching it or from yelling he honestly couldnt even tell anymore. From behind Remus stood both Logan and Virgil, side by side speaking in rapid low voices he couldnt decipher. Behind them he caught of glimpse of Roman and Patton both kneeling on the floor, fretting over a still freaked out Deceit as Jealously offered to help him up. Wrath was struggling to breathe, his body twitching and shaky from the quickly fading adrenaline. Soon he was left feeling cold and sick of himself, staring at Remus with just as wide and wild eyes.

“ Easy....easy spitfire....youre...just breathe for me ok?” He couldnt even nod, he couldnt move. He vageuely noticed Virgil and Logan both looking at him before the morning star was gone and Logan was in front of him, hands palm up in a non-threatening manner.

“ Wrath can you hear me? Good...just listen to my voice...I need you to name me five things you can see.” He blinked rapidly and barely heard Remus’s and Virgil’s murmurs of reassurance. Or maybe Virgil’s was more quiet talking, as he was standing at Patton’ side like the normally bubbly side’s shadow.

“u...uuh....y..youre tie...r-remus’s outfit....the stairs...the others...and the Roman’s s-sword...” Logan gave a nod, slowly kneeling in front of him with a calm, leveled expression that helped him focus more.

“ Good, now four things you can touch. Take your time Wrath.” He flexed his fingers, more of a twitch really as his breathing began to even out slowly. “ Um...My jacket...the couch...my jeans...uh...t..the carpet?” He nodded again through his faltered stammering as the deepness faded.

“ Three things you can hear?” He blinked again and listened for a moment.

“ .....your voice...Remus’s voice...the others...” “ Two things you can smell, remember take your time.” “ Bacon...from breakfast...and someones cologne..” A small smile came to his face as he adjusted his glasses in slow noticeable motions.

“ Just just 1 thing you can taste.” He managed to smack his lips once and his face screwed up at the taste lingering in his mouth.

“ ....acidic bile...” Both their brows furrowed a little but when Logan looked over his shoulder Remus shrugged at the silent question.

“Probably needs to puke Dr. Maywhoo.” Logan sighed at the nickname and turned back to him, holding up his hands a little.

“ Now, Wrath Id life for you to unclench your jaw, roll and relax your shoulders, loosen your posture if you can, uncurl your fingers and exhale please.” He blinked and slowly did as instructed, not realizing until then that he was wound up like a jack in the box. His jaw ached as he unclenched it and his shoulders slumped heavily as he relaxed, fingers sore from apparently being curled into firsts for so long, small red lines in his palms from his nails. He felt calmer, drained and upset, but calm.

“ Logan, Remus.” He looked past them to see virgil standing up tall, if not awkwardly, besides Roman and watching them with a hard to read look.

“ I...think sitting down and calmly talking...is now long overdue.”

~~~~~

Hours later Wrath Des found himself on the mindscapes main couch tiredly nestled besides a dozed off Jealousy Jacob and a cheerfully talking Patton. They had spent hours haphazardly strewn around the very room, just...talking and discussing and airing years worth of grievences. It wasnt easy, and things were no where near fixed or completely repaired. But, there were many small positive steps taken in that direction...and things were lighter and better as they stood at a better understanding of each other. Things werent perfect, and in the back of his mind he could list everything that could fuck up and send them back spiraling. Yet he didnt want to ruin what...whatever it was happening as dinner was cooked. Logan, Remus, and Virgil all sat together on the other side of the couch chatting among themselves and with Patton as they tried to decide on a movie and played candyland. In the kitchen he could hear Roman and Deceit cooking and giggling with each other, trying to outdo each other with some dumb food based pick up lines. But they sounded happy, so many it wasnt that dumb...Des watched them play candyland, staying relatively quiet aside from answering questions and jabs sent his way. It was comfortable and relaxed, and Des couldnt help but yawn. Without noticing , he ended up resting his head on Patton’s clearly unoccupied and underutilized shoulder as his eyes drooped shut. He felt Patton jump a little before slowly relaxing, and he didnt even need to open his eyes to flip Remus off as he let out an overly exaggerated coo at the motion letting himself relax. Patton smelled good he decided. Like fabric softener and baked goods and some kind of spice...Des also decided that the blurry sight of the trio next to them, with Remus’s legs draped across Logan and Virgil’s laps and one hand playing with Virgils messy hair as he sat on Logan’s right and Virgil contently and fully relaxed into Logan’s left side, head resting in the crook of his neck and his hand laced with the logical side’s unused hand as they played was also good. The sound of Jacobs soft snores was soothing and the joyful flirty voices in the kitchen blended into it well when combined with Pattons soft humming. If this was how things would be more often....he’d learn to add a little more patience to his supply of the stuff....

And maybe for once he didnt have to be negative, with no more tension for now to be broken.

The end.

Ok holy shit its finally finished!! This was over 7k goddamn words of emotion and holy shit was it a rollercoaster to write

THis is what happened when I wake up before 5 in the morning after not being able to sleep much...I apparently bust out 15 whole pages worth of words

Now....to go do my chores real quick and go pass the fuck out for an hour or two of sleep

I hope you guys liked it!!!

taglist

@phantommoonpeople @sweetsweetemo @leesacrakon @amazable01 @strawberryjellystuff @heyhelloitsk @jemthebookworm @max-is-tired @seriously-a-dragon @sar-kasstic @soupspam @riarities @yalltookmyurlideas @unsocialchapeau @hyperions-stallion @aqua-mazing @pancakewithamace @dee-ree-vee @sensibleghost @ro-roowo @baby-duck-boy @wack-ismygender

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explosionshark · 5 years

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Thanks for recommending Gideon the Ninth! It was so good! Do you have a book rec tag I could check out? :)

honestly i should, huh? i’ve read more books than probably ever before this year and i’ve talked about ‘em intermittently, but not with a consistent tag. i’ll recommend some right now, though, with a healthy dose of recency bias!

sf/f

the priory of the orange tree by samantha shannon - a truly epic fantasy novel with one of the most beautiful, satisfying f/f romances i’ve ever read. the novel takes account nearly everything i hate about fantasy as a genre (overwhelmingly straight, white, and male centric, bland medieval European settings, tired tropes) and subverts them. incredible world-building, diverse fantasy cultures, really cool arthrurian legend influence. one of my favorite books i’ve ever read tbh.

gideon the ninth by tamsyn muir - which you’ve read, obviously, but for posterity’s sake i’m keeping it here! sci-fi + murder mystery + gothic horror. genuinely funny while still having a super strong emotional core and more than enough gnarly necromantic to satisfy the horror nerd in me. makes use of some of my favorite tropes in fiction, namely the slowburn childhood enemies to reluctant allies to friends to ??? progression between gideon and harrow. absolutely frothing at the mouth for a sequel.

the broken earth trilogy by nk jemisin - really the first book that helped me realize i don’t hate fantasy, i just hate the mainstream ‘medieval europe but with magic’ version of fantasy that dominates the genre. EXTREMELY cool worldbuilding. i’ve definitely described it as like, a GOOD version of what the mage-vs-templar conflict in dragon age could have been, with a storyline particularly reminiscent of “what if someone got Anders right?”

this is how you lose the time war by amal el-mohtar and max gladstone - i’m not usually big on epistolary novels, but this one really worked for me. spy vs spy but it’s gay and takes place between time traveling agents of two opposing sides of a war. the letter writing format really plays to el-mohtar’s strengths as a poet, the unfolding love story is weird and beautiful. it’s a really quick read, too, if you’re short on time or attention.

empress of forever by max gladstone - i just finished this one this week! if you’re in the mood for a space opera, look no further. imagine if steve jobs was an asian lesbian and also like not a shitty person. this is where you start with vivian liao. you get the classic putting-the-band-together arc with beings from all across the universe, your romances and enemies-turned-friends and uneasy alliances all over the place. really satisfying character development and some extremely cool twists along the way. it’s just a fun good time.

the luminous dead by caitlin starling - this one rides the line of horror so it’s closest to that part of the list. it reminds me of the most inventive low budget horror/sci-fi films i’ve loved in the best way possible because it makes use of the barest narrative resources. it’s a book that takes place in one primary setting, featuring interactions between two characters that only meet each other face-to-face for the briefest period. the tension between the two characters is the most compelling part of the story, with competing and increasingly unreliable narratives and an eerie backdrop to ratchet things up even higher. the author described it as “queer trust kink” at one point which is, uh, super apt actually and totally my jam. the relationship at the center of the book is complicated to say the least, outright combative at points, but super compelling. plus there’s lost of gnarly sci-fi spelunking if you like stories about people wandering around in caves.

horror

the ballad of black tom by victor lavalle - we all agree that while lovecraft introduced/popularized some cool elements into horror and kind of defined what cosmic horror would come to mean, he was a racist sack of shit. which is why my favorite type of ‘lovecraftian horror’ is the type that openly challenges his abhorrent views. the ballad of black tom is a retelling of the horror at redhook that flips the narrative by centering the action around a black protagonist.

lovecraft country by matt ruff - more of what i just described. again, lovecraftian themes centered around black protagonists. this one’s especially cool because it’s a series of interconnected short stories following related characters. it’s getting a tv adaptation i believe, but the book is definitely not to be missed

rolling in the deep / into the drowning deep by mira grant - mermaids are real and they’re the ultimate deep sea predators! that’s really the whole premise. if for some reason that’s not enough for you, let me add this: diverse cast, a romance between a bi woman who’s not afraid to use the word and an autistic lesbian, really cool speculative science tangents about mermaid biology and myth.

the haunting of hill house by shirley jackson - it’s halloween month so i’m thinking about hill house again. one of the greatest american ghost stories ever written. especially worth the read if you follow it up w the 1964 film adaptation (the haunting) and then the 2018 netflix series.

the hunger by alma katsu - i’ve always been fascinated by the donner party even though we now know the popular narrative is largely falsehoods. still, this highly fictionalized version of events scratched an itch for me and ended up surprising me with its resistance from the most expected and toxic racist tropes associated with donner party myth.

wounds / north american lake monsters by nathan ballingrud - nathan ballingrud is my favorite horror writer of all time. one of my favorite writers period regardless of genre. in ballingrud’s work the horror is right in front of you. you can look directly at it, it’s right there. but what permeates it, what draws your attention instead, what makes it hurt is the brutally honest emotional core of everything surrounding the horror. the human tragedy that’s’ reflected by the more fantastic horror elements is the heart of his work. it’s always deeply, profoundly moving for me. both of these collections are technically short stories, but they’re in the horror section of the recs because delineations are totally arbitrary and made solely at my discretion.

short stories

her body and other parties by carmen maria machado - tbh i almost put this in w horror but there’s enough weird fiction here for me to be willing to straddle the line. it was really refreshing to read horror that centered queer women’s perspectives. the stories in this collection are really diverse and super powerful. there’s an incredible weird fiction piece that’s like prompt-based law and order svu micro fiction (go with me here) that ends up going to some incredible places. there’s the husband stitch, a story that devastated me in ways i’m still unraveling. the final story reminded me of a more contemporary haunting of hill house in the best way possible. machado is a writer i’m really excited about.

vampires in the lemon grove by karen russell - my friend zach recommended this to me when we were swapping book recs earlier this year and i went wild for it! mostly weird fiction, but i’m not really interested in getting hung up on genres. i don’t know what to say about this really other than i really loved it and it got me excited about reading in a way i haven’t been in a while.

the tenth of december by george saunders - i really like saunders’ work and i feel like the tenth of december is a great place to start reading him. quirky without being cloying, weird without being unrelatable.

misc

the seven husbands of evelyn hugo by taylor jenkins reid - there’s something really compelling to me about the glamour of old hollywood. this story is framed as a young journalist interviewing a famously reclusive former starlet at the end of her life. the story of how evelyn hugo goes from being the dirt-poor daughter of cuban immigrants to one of the biggest names in hollywood to an old woman facing the end of her life alone is by turns beautiful, inspiring, infuriating and desperately sad. by far the heart of the book is in evelyn finally coming out as bisexual, detailing her decades-long on/off relationship with celia st. james, another actress. evelyn’s life was turbulent, fraught with abuse and the kind of exploitation you can expect from the hollywood machine, but the story is compelling and engaging and i loved reading it.

smoke gets in your eyes by caitlin doughty - a memoir by caitlin doughty, the woman behind the popular ‘ask a mortician’ youtube series. it was a super insightful look into the american death industry and its many flaws as well as an interesting, often moving look at the human relationship with death through the eyes of someone touched by it early and deeply.

love and rockets by los bros hernandez (jaime and gilbert and mario) - this was a big alt comic in the 80s with some series within running on and off through the present. i’m not current, but this book was so important for me as a kid. in particular the locas series, which centered around two queer latina girls coming up in the punk scene in a fictional california town. the beginning starts of a little sci-fi-ish but over time becomes more concerned with slice-of-life personal dramas.

#book recs #long post #SORRY IF THIS IS MORE THAN YOU WANTED #obviouslyending #book tag

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lemongogo · 4 years

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hey im the anon abt gyutaro/ume and i dont remember what happens to demons after they die ?? did i miss smth ? regardless i wanna ask what do you think their fate should be ? cause on one hand i think they're just victims of a cruel world who took the first way out they could find but on the other hand it doesnt rlly justify all the slaughter, and i also think abt the demon slayers who also suffered horrible fates and used it to fuel their determination to save other people from that pain

hi !! i don’t think kny ever explicitly mentions what happens to demons after they die (as in we never have concrete evidence of where they go or how their lives after are spent), but i think the general consensus is that the demons go to hell.

in some cases, the family can decide to go with them (ex: rui and i think akaza? if i remember correctly?) but their fate is pretty much sealed from that point forward i believe.

heres a pic of gyuutarou and ume, actually, in chapter 97 !!

but yeah !! thats something i think about a lot tbh. as you mentioned, many of the demons we’ve seen have either been groomed into demonhood (rui, ume, susamaru, etc.) or had their pain and suffering exploited (akaza, gyuutarou) for the sake of advancing other demons’ plans (muzan, douma, etc). so i agree ! a lot of these characters are unfortunate victims in themselves and its impossible to view their stories without incorporating the struggles they’ve had to face as both humans AND demons. especially considering that lots of these individuals experience muzan’s abuse regardless of their status relative to him (such as with the upper and lower moons). i think this is best explained through akaza’s relationship with muzan,

(ch. 67)

(ch.156)

and further explored though tanjiro’s observation of rui’s death. he notes that being a demon, for most, is an existence punctuated by extreme grief and despair, and that’s equally supported, i think, by the humanization of these demons following death. that their original conscious is restored (albeit with knowledge of everything they’ve done) and are oftentimes plagued by the guilt of what’s happened.

(ch.43)

what he says here is probably what sums it up for me. that while it’s important to condemn these demons and hold them accountable for the truly awful things they’ve done, it’s also important to consider the suffering they've experienced through existence alone. its so !! complex !! and thats what i love about kny. i love how .. you have some demons who are entirely despicable and bask in the carnage they create, but you also have some for whom demonhood was simply what appeared to be the only answer towards living a healthier life or righting the wrongs that’ve been done to them (usually with false promises and manipulation unbeknownst to them). and .. its so hard to figure out where to.. draw that line. or view these characters at least. because you sympathize with their pain, but you also realize that their actions have caused endless pain for many hundreds of people. tanjiro losing his entire family, giyuu losing his. shinobu watching her sister die before her very eyes, and kanao the same. the ubuyashiki family’s curse or the slaughter of himejima’s children. you look at characters like sanemi, shinobu, or giyuu and understand that you cannot invalidate their view of demons either. while kanae and tanjiro may find hope and humanity in demons, they exist as monsters who feast on pain to everyone else. its important not to discredit their perspective when making a personal choice to observe the demons’ hardships yknow. shinobu’s anger is just as warranted as tanjiro’s optimism and that neither are wrong for how they personally feel demons should be handled after death.

im like. AAAAAAAA theres so much to it , its really hard for me to condense into a few sentences AHAHA im so sry for making u read this if u still are. but . i guess i’m not too sure. i think maybe, had i experienced the same pain as those above, it would be easy for me to say the demons deserve to go to the worst hell imaginable regardless of what they’ve gone through because that history isn’t accessible to everyone like it has been the audience (or that they’ve seemingly made the conscious decision to cause harm w/o understanding the ways in which demonhood obscures their original conscious/morality). but at the same time, you have those like tanjiro whose world view is shaped by positive encounters with demons like nezuko, tamayo, yushirou, etc. where it seems very evident that . theres more to it than what meets the eye.

one of my friends ive talked to about this had a rly good perspective on it thats kinda stuck with me since !! she said she likes to view their conclusion as some . separation of identity?? if that makes sense?? that the demon side of them goes to hell while their human form goes to heaven (or division into whichever afterlife). and !! i think thats a really neat interpretation because there’s obvious descrepancy between demon personas and human personas. that the demon personas are like. exaggerations of their flaws, almost (akaza becoming hellbent on battle spirits and physical victories when hajuki’s fury & determination was fueled by love in a sense) while their human personas are the truest sense of self. and depending on which influence there is (muzan vs the appearance of loved ones), their identity changes accordingly. so ! idk ! thats one nice way of looking at it. holding their demon personas accountable while also recognizing that many of these characters deserve some form of healing after many hundreds of years of abuse. its hard because ofc i don’t want to negate the harms they’ve caused but its also? not cut and dry given the environment they were placed in and the fact that muzan’s blood essentially removes their humanity against their will you know. so in this way at least you have both forms of self receiving the proper conclusion.

whwhwhw so im. !!!!!!!!!!!! ah !! i can’t say i have a definite answer but i think the one above is smth thats comforting to me. i think the story settles with sending them to hell once they’ve regained their past self but also .. “softens” it by providing them company by their loved ones who are willing to go w them?? so thats rly cool to look at too. because it holds them accountable for all that’s happened but also.. recognizes that they’re not wholly responsible for it either and that .. even in hell they’re able to keep their connections and human emotions/experiences . its tragic yet oddly. fitting, i think, of the kny narrative. while i like the aforementioned interpretation, i also really.. appreciate the way its set up in canon too. like yeah i want the best for them but also. it fits in with the tragic nature of demonhood and what it meant for them all. oddly enough.

u make a good point too !! about demon slayers experiencing the same hardships but using their pain to help others. i think a lot of it is plainly chalked up to luck in terms of.. what they were exposed to following tragedy. how shinobu and kanae were saved by himejima, tanjiro saved by giyuu, kanao picked up by shinobu and kanae, sanemi given the guidance of kagaya while akaza was killed by muzan during his lowest moment, ume and gyuutarou were cornered by douma, rui misled by muzan, etc. i think circumstance is definitely a large factor in determining the paths that were taken. such as sanemi’s anger being validated and heard by ubuyashiki vs, say, akaza’s same anger being intentionally exploited for muzan’s gain.

aaa anyways. theres a lot 2 be said about this. like. SO much on my mind and obviously the extent of muzan’s abuse goes far deeper than what’s briefly mentioned here but. i love talking about the complexities of kny . and how i view the demons vs the corps and how each of them have grown into their respective stories . AA but ill end it here THNK U >> also so sry for making u read thru all of this i get so excited i could talk abt kny all day long if i had the chance AAA

#Anonymous #asktag #tldr: UH im a sympathetic bitch who wishes for some form of recovery for Some demons while also #finding it necessary to hold them accountable.#and easy way to do that is to split identities between human and demon persona but thats mighty convenient for such #a large issue so . the current narrative is probably the one i still oddly like #just bc the little peace they get before descent into hell is. really big #and their support by loved ones following them thru is also. really big #anyways. ya viri i thot of what u said bc its so good #its been a while so idk if its the exact version of how u view it but thts how it stuck w me JSBFSKBFSBJF #naywaysb I LOVE KNY AAAAAAAAAAAAA screams #kny #kny spoilers #kny manga #save for later

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grelleswife · 4 years

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rejoining-tumblr anon here, thanks for responding w such thoughtful advice! this site is Hellish and it sucks you have to keep so much in mind to protect yourself from Weirdos. anyway! i’ll definitely consider your advice, and truthfully, i’m not fantastic at setting boundaries bc i don’t always know what i want. i just Feel Things but sometimes i’m not great at doing what intuition tells me, especially since fandom is close to people’s hearts, you know? would you have any recs for that?

You’re welcome! ☺️ I agree; it’s a shame there are so many nasties in fandom, but I suppose there’s no escaping them. 😔

If I’m understanding correctly, it’s sometimes hard for you to say no to people or to trust your intuition? My general advice would be, “Err on the side of caution.” People can be sneaky, and even if you do a little investigating, it might not immediately be apparent whether they’re involved with the fandom’s unsavory elements. However, 9 times out of 10, listen to your gut. If the person’s vibe seems “off” somehow, even if you can’t quite articulate why, consider that a red flag. It’s also a bad sign if the blogger overshares extremely personal information (especially if you just met them), demands you devote large swathes of your time solely to them, guilt-trips you into doing favors for them (i.e. writing a fic or drawing something for free), etc.

Regardless, if someone is making you uncomfortable in any way, there are a couple of tactics you could try. I respect your desire to be considerate of other people’s feelings (you’re right; fandom is near and dear to many of our hearts), but you need to focus on protecting yourself first and foremost. One approach is to politely ignore the other person to see if they leave you alone. If they start harassing you in retaliation, block them outright. This may seem harsh, but you have to take a stand when people are disrespecting your comfort zone.

If the person is more reasonable, you could trying talking it out. Calmly explain what they’re doing that unsettles you, as well as proposing possible solutions to the issue. If they listen and modify their behavior appropriately, well and good. If not, back to ye olde block button.

When in doubt, consult with friends, or any reliable outside party who can give you a fresh perspective. It’s often difficult to view a situation objectively when you’re trapped in the middle of it. A neutral individual can confirm that the weirdness isn’t just in your head, or give you their two cents on whether they think the person is toxic.

I hope at least some of this advice is helpful to you!

#advice #rejoining tumblr anon

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unsympathetic-virgil · 4 years

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What do you think of Logan? Is he problematic too?

[I.D. Start: Mod Snake, haphazardly drawn in a passionate rage inhales in the first picture, then in the second picture takes a moment to pause amd gather his thoughts. In the third picture, there are various layers of hos drawing with red beaming out of his eyes in pure outrage. In sky blue text (possibly, don't ask me, I'm colourblind), he is screaming in all caps "All sides are inherently flawed! Everyone's fucking problematic if you really want to be fucking technical! Don't be fucking butthurt because I'm exploring a different perspective on a character! Don't come on anon asking me about my opinions in a bullshit passive aggressive way! All sides are components of a singular person therefore they're all problematic! Wow!!! End I.D.]

SO. RANT CONTD.

The sides are nowhere near as problematic as the sides stans in this fucking fandom.

Yeah, this blog is dedicated solely to unsympathetic! Sides content, but do you know WHY? Because passive aggressive little shits like you attack people and make them feel unsafe to explore any sort of idea that doesn't fall into the "owo poor baby got angst my cinnamon roll noooooo" or the "uwu hes my boi looky looky so precious muah muah muah owo uwu such beanie boooooo" categories of angst/fluff and it's fucking ridiculous.

The average fander just wants to have a good fucking time and BE CREATIVE GOD DAMN IT, LOOK, THERE'S TWO FUCKING CREATIVITIES, ONE OF THEM IS THE LITERAL GOD DAMN EMBODIMENT OF CANCELLED CULTURE TO BE QUITE FUCKING HONEST.

So IN THE FUTURE. IF YOU REALLY WANNA KNOW MY OPINIONS, FUCK OFF WITH YOUR GOD DAMN "MY SON IS BETTER THAN YOURS" WHITE SOCCER MOM KAREN PASSIVE AGGRESSIVE BULLSHIT ATTITUDE, and I will be more than happy to answer your questions darling! ^w^ so!!!!

Tdlr; fuck off stans who can't cope with the fact that their favs may be problematic, if you're genuinely interested in my content and views, don't talk like a beta cuck Karen, and let's all have fun and tag our content properly! If you can't handle that then maybe you should buy an enema kit to alleviate all the bullshit stuck inside your lonely, decrepit soul and come back when you're not about to have a god damn brain hemorrhage over the fact that people can have different views on characters <3

#anon #mod snake #rant #passive aggressive asks #all caps #tw all caps #tw rant #tw passive aggressive speech

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isakblu · 3 years

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The Takeaway from The Plague by Camus

2020 has hit people with a myriad of dreadful events, and COVID-19 is one of them. The pandemic first was announced in January and started from Wuhan, China, and then the virus spread later on around the world and became a massive crisis from March till now. COVID-19 not only purloined thousands of lives of people, taken away their ordinary day and replaced it with lots of requirements such as mask out on the street, and quarantine with social distancing lifestyle. It also questions people based on their actions and thought with multiple themes that have to deal with their status where they still try to figure things out from physically to mentally and emotionally their existence in this pandemic. However, the idea that most connect people together is the acceptance and revolt in the face of absurdity. It’s phenomenal in what manner the novel The Plague by Camus sketched a magnificent deep volume of the epidemic raging the characters in the books and the obstacles they have to face. I believe Dr. Rieux, one of the essential roles from the book, has been expressing his perception of absurd in these chapters of the book. Through this novel, people are going to find themselves being aware of humanity, and both The Plague and COVID-19 remind them that in the universe they are living in, death can be the last stop, but it can’t deny the fact that the dedication and enthusiasm people have for this life .

The idea of absurdity reflects the perspective of how people looking through the rumination on the parallel view between the side of living and dying. The Plague by Camus took place in Oran, Algeria, along a coastal town in North Africa, somewhere in the 90s. The author starts the novel before the bubonic plague even happening and becomes a critical event in the story where following by lots of narratives and character involved like the doctor, Rieux, the journalist, Rambert, the wanderer, Tarrou, and many more that show their characteristics and define the absurd and revolt in their term. From my perspective, Camus and the character Rieux both retain a strong relationship in their descriptions of the absurdity, and the readers can find out that Rieux has represented some part of Camus's thoughts all over the novel, even showing the opposite. Keith Nelson has distinguished the face of absurdity through Camus's point of view by the following quote: “Human beings are absurd because they have neither metaphysical justification nor essential connection to the universe. They are not part of any divine scheme and, being mortal, all of their actions, individual and collective, eventually, come to nothing.” Camus finds the meaning of life is bound to the words death, and worthless where he describes why people have to work so hard with all the blood, sweat, and tears they pour out while in the end, all left is grass, ground, and grave. Humans must lose and sooner or later die in nothingness behind their loved one's grief or no one, but some say difference. The rebellion, the people with hopes and dreams carry the actions, thoughts which make life more meaningful, revolting against the face of absurdity. People who believe that their darkest hour comes before their dawn, the one who enjoys the yellow come from life and the red they receive even if it turns blue, and nobody can symbolize both the acceptance and revolt of absurdity than Rieux, the luminary.

No one is perfect, and they can be fallible, but learning to change and fight for what right and wrong make the mortals human. In the town full of negativity, the soulless people, and the sorrow sky, Rieux seems to be the only one who sees as the days pass with the views as another painting and sound as another orchestra when he draws out his canvas “ The doctor was still looking out of the window. Beyond it lay the tranquil radiance of a cool spring sky; inside the room, a word was echoing still, the word "plague." A word that conjured up in the doctor's mind not only what science chose to put into it, but a whole series of fantastic possibilities utterly out of keeping with that gray and yellow town under his eyes, from which were rising the sounds of mild activity characteristic of the hour; a drone rather than a bustling, the noises of a happy town, in short, if it's possible to be at once so dull and happy.”(Camus 124) The meticulous details he gives showing how he is amused by the being, the existence of life, and acknowledging it. It's fascinating by the virtue of Rieux seeing things as it speaks to him, although the calamities have not come yet, came, and gone, he still finds the beauty and delight in each event as his vivid description passes on. The readers can figure out the point where Rieux shows the revolt in most of the parts in the novel, which explains how he loves to be pleased by seeing the world. He is also the first man in the frontline when the plague starts to hit Oran and spread all over the town. Announcing the news, organizing groups of sanitary, experiment vaccines, influencing others, treating and helping the patients, Rieux doing his best to be the cure against this deadly epidemic where it took so many lives from this place. He is the doctor where he can think that the death of people is a must thing and what moral is, but the facts that he tries to battling this disease exhibit that Rieux is a rebellion against what absurdity all about and a faith denier.

The acceptance is not always easy especially death, but before the eyes start to close and the heart stops to beat, the flashback of every moment and memory oozing back letting the person who listens to the last sound seeing how all the splendid things they do or give as happiness lies down with them. For the few left pages, before the final period place the last dot, Rieux has altered and become more aware of the reality where he accepts the absurdity as the suffering, the sadness he went through as the quote illustrates “But there was at least one of our townsfolk for whom Dr. Rieux could not speak, the man of whom Tarrou said one day to Rieux: "His only real crime is that of having in his heart approved of something that killed off men, women, and children. I can understand the rest, but for that, I am obliged to pardon him." It is fitting that this chronicle should end with some reference to that man, who had an ignorance, that is to say lonely, heart.” (Camus 302) Imagine after Rieux loses his best friend, Tarrou, he then receives news that his wife has also passed away, the ultraviolence he got is hard to compare. It’s unpredictable and how ironic is through this bubonic plague gave him the hero definition since the myriad of lives he had saved, but, at the same time, when calamity dies down, he left nothing but just a person with blackbirds on both his shoulders. The reality when he sees that all the stamina he works so hard for his people, friends, and beloved one, all vanish in the last breath. He accepts it, but the readers can’t contradict how Rieux knows that people will have to take an eternity sleep, he still hauls his body and mind to face the pandemic until it is all gone. I think that is the lesson I learn from this novel about how people should never giving up and put effort into their life. COVID-19 is a horrendous mess, but so many people have been doing the best to make the worst seem better, such as all the nurse and doctor wrestling their life to help patients. I think no matter how small the action is like just wearing a mask, it still contributes to my community and my family health as revolting against the face of absurdity rather than waiting for the death to come.

COVID-19 seems to be an unreal event, as shown in the pandemic from The Plague by Camus portrait. People tend to have hope in the pitch-black time of how many times it strikes them just to make the actions stronger where the victory they celebrate lies among the falls of the dead one. All things will have the last stop, and it's the same rule with humans and the plague in which the cure is going to found, where life describes the moment people have, and death is the proof of people's existence. The takeaway I found in the novel through the character Rieux is always battling for my life even though it short, I can make it meaningful. Absurdity is something someday I have to accept, but before that, I will keep seeking purpose, meaning, and happiness in this universe.

Work Cited

Camus, Albert. The plague. Vintage, 1948.

Website:

https://books.google.com/books?hl=en&lr=&id=a8LBjVImeO4C&oi=fnd&pg=PA2&dq=the+plague+camus&ots=DZh_dqjcDA&sig=JXM5oavWf83xNB9Sgjis6sVoJfc#v=onepage&q=the%20plague%20camus&f=false

Neilson, Keith. "The Plague." Masterplots, Fourth Edition, edited by Laurence W. Mazzeno, Salem, 2010. Salem Online.

Website:

https://online.salempress.com

Thank you for reading <3333333

Khang V Sun

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astralaffairs · 5 years

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freedom of the press 01 | thomas jefferson

title: freedom of the press

pairing: thomas jefferson x reader

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8@assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers lmk if you want to be added to tags

words: 5.8k

warnings: thomas jefferson

desc: you’d just moved to d.c. full time, a promotion at your publication leading to a transfer to another district chapter, and you were more than thrilled to be there, more than ready to immerse yourself in the world of politics. what you weren’t ready for, though, was how the campaign trail you were following made your heart flutter and your stomach turn. you also hadn’t expected it to be so... gaudy? magenta? — or perhaps, though you wouldn’t hear of it, that wasn’t the campaign’s effect at all.

THOMAS JEFFERSON WAS an arrogant, pompous prick. Holding an entire press conference just so he could make a big, extraneous speech on "making the world a better place" was just about the most conceited thing a person could do — the fact that he expected people to show up was another thing entirely. The worst part was that so many people did.

And that was how one Y/N L/N found herself at the press conference of a man whose political views she absolutely despised, who she'd heard nothing but malice about from one of her best friends, and who she'd hated; his presence didn't make hate seem like a strong enough word.

At that particular moment in time, as she could feel the skin of her feet blistering in the heels she'd shoved them into early that morning, as she was fighting not to be pressed flush against the scratchy blazers of reporters within inches of her every side, as she could feel her thighs beginning to chafe under her pencil skirt, she was seriously regretting her decision to be a political journalist.

Yes, we get it, world peace, reducing poverty, bullshitting your way through a speech you wrote not twenty-four hours ago, she thought, but when can we get to the questions?

She huffed as he continued to his next point, frantically scribbling down his every last word despite the knowledge that every line was drawing her closer to insanity. She had a bottle of wine and a family-size bag of Takis waiting for her in her pantry upon her arrival back at her apartment. However, it wasn't long before she found that the brink of insanity was almost worth it. And it only took seven words.

Secretary Jefferson was nearing what sounded akin to a conclusion. While Y/N hadn't perhaps understood the purpose of the public address (if there was one at all), she was itching to get to questions so she could finally gain the material needed for her article. For her first serious article.

But that was when he said it.

"So, with these noble goals in mind, I find that it is in our nation's best interest that I step down from my position as Secretary of State." He cleared his throat, closing his eyes as though gathering his wits before flashing a confident smile, his gaze sweeping through the expanse of the crowd. "I'm stepping down to run for president."

A collective gasp ran over the crowd. Stepping down to run for president?

There was a skip as everyone jotted the words down, a moment marked only by a quiet buzzing of reporters before all hell broke loose, and everyone around Y/N started pushing toward the stage, demanding answers to their countless questions. (All she wanted was not to get trampled.)

She clutched her camera tightly and hunched her shoulders to shield herself as Jefferson called for order, though he could hardly be heard over the cacophony of a crowd. It didn't take long the man snapped, for better or for worse. Y/N couldn't complain; it stopped the journalist beside her who'd begun to storm the stage, and she was already bracing herself for impact.

"Hey!" he yelled, an annoyed expression painting his face, before the cacophony faded, and Y/N finally found herself able to stand straight up without fear of being KOed by another writer channeling their inner MMA star. "No questions will be taken today," —Y/N's eyes widened— "as we feel that the public should be given time to process the news. However, a full statement will be released from my office later this evening."

That was what elicited the rising discord from the sea of reporters, that time including Y/N.

"What?!" she breathed before pursing her lips. If she'd thought she'd resented the Secretary of State before, it was nothing to how she felt now. A press conference, as defined in all its exactitude, invariably included a period of time dedicated solely to taking questions from the press. Whatever Mr. Jefferson was trying to pull was not that.

She heard him yelling for order, urging the journalists to calm down, but the words seemed to be from a degree of removal; she'd begun to spiral in her thoughts, mind racing as she deliberated how in the world to turn the little she'd gained that afternoon into a real article. And all around her, Jefferson's call for harmony was the furthest thing from what manifested.

"You'll all have time to get a more extensive story throughout my campaign." Somehow, the man didn't look distraught, but simply annoyed as he exited the stage (which was, of course, met with outrage) and climbed into his car.

Y/N wanted to scream. She'd been transferred to D.C. to cover gritty, dramatic, headline politics; it was supposed to be a promotion. But, of course, if she blew the first assignment she was given, she wouldn't exactly be at the top of the list in the future, especially as the race for the presidency began. From her perspective, Thomas Jefferson was single-handedly ruining her career as a political journalist. She was thoroughly convinced that he was Beelzebub incarnate.

Despite her fury, as everyone around her rushed the stage, Y/N began trying to push her way out — if Thomas Jefferson said he wasn't taking questions, he meant it, regardless of how many people he'd spent hours inconveniencing with it. As she emerged onto the sidewalk from the mass of bourgie young-adults who reeked of cheap cologne, all she could think of was how the secretary had wasted her beautiful day. She could've been relaxing in her apartment with her roommate. Perhaps her sister could've been over, too, if she wasn't too busy with her kids. The lost possibilities were all she could focus on as she made her way down the street.

She'd worked with her roommate Angelica since they both started at the Washington Post, and they'd grown close quickly, not wasting much time before splitting rent on an apartment. Over the years, she'd become nearly as familiar with Angelica's sister, Eliza, as well as her husband, Alex — that is, her husband who conveniently happened to be the Secretary of the Treasury. The connection had proved helpful, as his network had pushed her career forward on more than one occasion. However, she couldn't claim that his constant bad-mouthing hadn't soured her opinion of Secretary Jefferson.

Y/N wasn't far from the building she and Angelica lived in, but in her tall heels with the weather bleak, the walk was considerably unpleasant. As she put in earbuds to drown out the din of the masses, her train of thought was only spiraling closer and closer to Dante's Inferno of partisan resentment — she couldn't pinpoint exactly where her emotions lie; she was torn between needing to scream until her throat was raw and wanting to curl into herself and softly weep. If this was her big, exciting, breakout article, she wasn't feeling too optimistic about the rest of her career.

It was only when the crowd thinned and she turned down an alley, taking a shortcut home, that she was torn from her mental soliloquy. As she turned right, venturing to throw herself onto her couch and bury herself in blankets as soon as possible, a black van turned into the other side of the lane, headed directly towards her at breakneck speed. Her eyes widened, cold panic shooting through her veins, and she stood frozen much like a deer in unfortunately-literal headlights, unable to do more than cover her head and brace for impact in the milliseconds she could only assume she had left.

She didn't hear the car screeching to a halt in front of her. It was ten seconds later when she realized that she wasn't splattered against the pavement, and tentatively, she opened her eyes, brow knit tightly in confusion.

As Y/N saw the motionless van, she sighed, her shoulders relaxing as she bit her lip, as her heart thumped in her chest. Her moment of relief passed nearly as soon as it arrived, the accumulation of anger that the afternoon had left her with now radiating from her in waves. Her eyes narrowed and her upper lip curled as she began walking toward the van, fists tightly clenched as she yanked out her earbuds, stuffed them into her pocket.

"Hey, asshat!" she yelled, "Maybe next time consider not trying to drive down the alleys meant for people to pile their trash in?" She let out a bitter laugh as her face twisted into a sardonic smile. "Actually, my deepest apologies; I retract that. I suppose having no regard for the lives of pedestrians does make you trash, so maybe you do belong here. Forgive my oversight."

By then, she was nearly leaning over the hood of the car, directing her sneer and accusatory glare to whoever sat behind the tinted windshield at the driver's seat. It was then that a door began to open in the periphery of her vision, but she didn't notice, consumed wholly by her furious rant.

"Oh, and what's more—"

A man off to her left cleared his throat, and the sight before her as her gaze snapped to the sound nearly felt like a physical blow. Her words caught in her throat; her eyes grew wide. Thomas Jefferson folded his arms across his chest, clad in a burgundy three-piece suit, raising an annoyed eyebrow.

"What, exactly, is more?" He furrowed his dark brow, offering her his mocking interest, and Y/N's jaw ticked as she narrowed her eyes.

"Of course, it's you. Isn't that just perfect?" she huffed, and he raised his eyebrows, taken aback.

"Excuse me?"

"Please, you can't expect me to be feeling great about you right now," she scoffed, staring daggers into his expression of surprise, "You literally just held a press conference where you refused to take a single question. In the future, go waste someone else's time whose career doesn't depend on it."

"I just gave you the week's biggest news to report on. You should be thankin' me." His jaw hung slack as she shook her head in indignation.

"Don't flatter yourself; the fact that you're resigning from office doesn't mean that speech had even a fragment of substance. Instead, now all we know is that Thomas Jefferson wants world peace and enjoys kissing babies!"

"I was layin' out goals for the world when I'm elected!"

"'When'? When you're elected?" She scoffed. "Please. You won't get the nomination."

"I—" Jefferson scowled, cutting himself off before he could retaliate. He took a deep breath. "Look, can you just move? I've gotta be at the capitol of our country, and I don't have time to be arguin' with you."

Y/N raised her eyebrows, plastering on an expression of contrived surprise. "Oh? The capitol? Y'know, I seem to remember you issuing a very public resignation, like, less than an hour ago, no?"

He sighed. "C'mon, ma'am, I'm not kidding."

"I'll move," —His face lit up, and she crossed her arms— "if you give me an interview."

He let out a soft groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. Finally, he shrugged. "Fine. Whatever."

"See, this is exactly what I—" Y/N stopped herself short, her eyebrows shooting up as she processed his words. "Wait, really?"

"I mean, you're not goin' anywhere." A grin flitted across his face, and he added, "And I mean, I could always have Secret Service move you outta the way, but I don't think that'd be great for public relations."

She smiled in spite of herself, pursing her lips in a weak effort to smother it. "Alright, Mr. Secretary. If nothing else, I appreciate that."

"Oh, so now you're bein' nice to me?"

"You are giving me what I want."

"I'm a man of the people, Miss... ?" He raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"... Just Y/N," she supplied with a soft smile.

"Then call me Thomas."

She nodded, withdrawing her notepad with a cheeky smile playing at her lips. "Well, who knew it'd be this easy to get on a first name basis with the Secretary of State?"

"Are you gonna interview me or not, Y/N?" He raised a playful eyebrow, and she rolled her eyes.

"I can assure you, I'm not letting an exclusive go." She flipped to an empty page in her notepad, clicked her pen, and pulled out her phone before hesitating. "Do you mind if I record this?"

"So, I'm an exclusive now?" His smirk only grew, and she had to suppress a laugh.

"If you'll let me record this, you're whatever you want to be."

"Have at it, sweetheart." He leaned back on the hood of the van, arms crossed with a smile that was smug without a cause. She smiled as she tucked her phone into her pocket, having pressed record, and began asking questions.

"So, when exactly does your resignation go into effect?" She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow, ready to start writing.

"Well, that was the public announcement, but it's been known in the capitol for a month now. Just now, that was me officially issuin' my one month's notice, 'cause it's a little harder to fill a federal government position than it is to fill a desk job." He chuckled lightly at his own words, but he cleared his throat when Y/N looked less than impressed.

"Alright, and if elected, what policies of the current administration would you see to protecting?"

"Well, our relationship with France has been rocky at times, but I think our maritime alliance is gonna continue to serve us well, considerin' how isolationism has been spreadin' overseas, and..."

As he began to drone on about foreign policy, the pair went on like that for several more minutes, Y/N's pen scratching furiously on her paper as Thomas just stood there, occasionally raking a bored hand through his hair. And soon, she was out of questions, and soon, he had no more answers to give.

"Well, thank you, Secretary Jefferson," she said, tucking her notebook and pen back into her purse and ending the recording on her phone. "I'll get out of your way, now."

He raised a teasing eyebrow. "Didn't I ask you to call me Thomas?"

She rolled her eyes. "Forgive me, but I'm not used to being on a first-name basis with presidential candidates."

"Better get used to it." He shot her a quick wink, pushing himself off the hood of the car before walking back around to the door. "Nice meetin' you, Y/N."

She hummed her agreement, wearing a knowing smile. "We'll see whether you're singing a different tune by the time you actually see my article."

"That a threat?"

"Just thinking out loud." She shrugged, hardly sparing him a glance where he stood by the passenger seat of the car, appearingly amused. "If you're that concerned about it, maybe your next close call with vehicular manslaughter shouldn't involve a journalist."

"Can't make any promises. I do seem to have a hard time avoidin' the press."

She was glad he couldn't see the egoistic smile she wore at hearing the skepticism that drenched his tone as she walked off. "Then maybe this won't be the last you see of me, Thomas."

She looked back over her shoulder to see the bemused look he wore, eyes narrowed in the slightest, arms folded as he leaned against the side of the van. Of all the ways to cheat death, she decided this one wasn't so bad.

_______________

"OH MY GOD, Angelica, I'm freaking out." Y/N rushed into her apartment with her heart pounding, all her movements erratic as she dropped her bag, nearly tripped as she ran to her laptop. Her roommate's eyes widened as she met her where she stood.

"What? What happened?" When Y/N ignored her, she grabbed her arms, pulling her to a stop. "Talk to me."

She took a deep breath. "I just got the first interview with Thomas Jefferson after he announced he was running for president, and I need to get the article out within the hour."

Angelica's eyes widened. "Oh god, what? How did you— I only saw the live broadcast, but he didn't take any questions, did he?"

Y/N shrugged, ego pervading her smile. "Perks of the Secretary of State almost hitting you with his car, I guess."

By then, Angelica's eyes were bugged out. "He what?!"

"Well, technically it was his driver's fault, but still." Y/N finally found where her laptop had been charging and surged toward it, breaking from her roommate's grasp. Angelica could only watch in horror as she frantically slammed the power button, urging the computer to go faster as she emptied the contents of her bag onto the kitchen counter.

As the computer turned on, they both let out sighs of relief, though for different reasons. Angelica was just glad Y/N hadn't quite Hulk-smashed her own keyboard.

The remainder of the night was a blur, with Y/N hardly aware of the time that flew by as Angelica nearly had to force-feed her any sort of dinner (it was ultimately several individually-packaged bags of chips and a few glasses of gas-station alcohol, really) and Y/N proceeding to push just a few yards past the medically-advised limit of coffee in her bloodstream, just to the point where she was shaking, her fingers a blur as they glided across the keys of her laptop.

The article was finished by 7:30 pm, hardly proofread in her eager haste, and forwarded to her editor the moment the last word was typed. Y/N's eyes widened as she sent the email, and she proceeded to close the laptop, taking a deep breath as a grin played at her lips.

"Guess who just sent in her article?" she sang as Angelica glanced back from the living room. She snorted.

"Finally. Maybe now I can stop hearing Thomas Jefferson's voice played on repeat from your phone."

Y/N only shrugged. "Internalizing what was said is part of the creative process, Angelica."

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, whatever. Just go eat some actual dinner, and do your very best not to pass out from the caffeine in your system."

"No promises." Y/N walked over to the fridge, rolling her shoulders after she pulled the doors open. "Damn, I feel like I could run a marathon."

"But it might be just a bit better for you to take a nap," Angelica interrupted, and Y/N pursed her lips.

"I mean, either way," she agreed, and Angelica rolled her eyes. "Alright, now I've just gotta wait for my editor to read it, and I'm golden."

"Or, you have to make several edits and accept thorough draft feedback, and then you're golden," Angelica pointed out, and Y/N rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair as she rummaged through the fridge.

"Always a cynic." Her eyes widened slightly, and a moment later, she withdrew a bottle of champagne. "Hey, can we crack this open to celebrate my first exclusive?"

"Hmm?" Angelica craned her neck back from the couch, and smiled when she saw what her friend was holding. "I mean, sure, but I think you'd be obligated to invite Alex and Eliza over."

Y/N scowled. "You're right; you're right."

The pair had been gifted the bottle by Angelica's sister and her husband, but only on the condition that they opened it only when it really merited the celebration (it's an excellent vintage bubbly; 1920 was a long time ago, as Alex had lectured them) and that Alex and Eliza were there. It was a strange choice of housewarming gift, but Angelica and Y/N appreciated it nonetheless.

But in that regard, there was nothing left to do with the evening except drop herself onto the couch and wait for the green light to publish (in extreme apprehension, of course).

And Y/N was far from aware of the fuse she'd just lit.

_______________

@Y/N_L/N: My new article is up now, direct from the Washington Post! First hand news not only about the future of our government, but about the 2020 presidential race.

The First Steps Into the Race

https://washingtonpost.com/veryreallink/presidentialrace

Replying to @Y/N_L/N:

@Thomas_Jefferson: Just so you don't have to read the article, here's a spoiler: I'm running for president 🎉

Replying to @Thomas_Jefferson:

@Y/N_L/N: why can't you just let me do my job

Replying to @Y/N_L/N:

@Thomas_Jefferson: Where's the fun in that?

Replying to @Thomas_Jefferson:

@Y/N_L/N: The fun is that people read the article I worked hard on????

Replying to @Y/N_L/N:

@Thomas_Jefferson: So should I assume I can't count on your vote?

Replying to @Thomas_Jefferson:

@Y/N_L/N: why are you like this

Replying to @Y/N_L/N:

@A_Hamilton: See this is what I've been telling you

Replying to @A_Hamilton:

@Y/N_L/N: can't you stay out of this

Replying to @Y/N_L/N:

@A_Hamilton: Ok but where's the fun in that

Replying to @A_Hamilton:

@Y/N_L/N: God, you're just like him

Replying to @Y/N_L/N:

@AngelicaSchuy: 👀 that's serious shade, considering who you're talking to

Replying to @AngelicaSchuy:

@Thomas_Jefferson: call him out

Replying to @Thomas_Jefferson:

@Y/N_L/N: You're literally a politician, why are you part of this

Replying to @Y/N_L/N:

@Thomas_Jefferson: This is called public relations, last I checked

Replying to @Thomas_Jefferson:

@Y/N_L/N: this literally started with you telling people not to read my article; you're awful at public relations

Replying to @Y/N_L/N:

@Thomas_Jefferson: I was just saving people time. I haven't even been elected yet and I'm already making steps for the public interest

Replying to @Thomas_Jefferson:

@Y/N_L/N: Spoiler alert: Thomas Jefferson's election will cause unemployment rates to spike because he thinks he's better than everyone at their jobs

Replying to @Y/N_L/N:

@AngelicaSchuy: oh shit

Replying to @Y/N_L/N:

@A_Hamilton: can i sponsor your feud with him yet

Replying to @Y/N_L/N:

@Thomas_Jefferson: yeah, I'm definitely counting on your vote :)

Replying to @Thomas_Jefferson:

@Y/N_L/N: leave

...

@Thomas_Jefferson started following you.

________________

AFTER THAT FRIDAY, life itself quickly began to escalate.

Her 79 twitter followers became 150, which soon became 300, and it wasn't long before she hit 1000. Her inbox was flooded with messages about her article (something which had never used to happen before). She had blown up—-to the extent that a political journalist could, of course. But regardless, she was a hit.

So the scattered congratulations and pats on the back she received when she arrived at work that Monday shouldn't have come as a shock. In fact, she'd nearly grown accustomed to it by the end of the day. What did come as a shock, though, was her boss approaching her as she was finishing up in the afternoon.

"L/N, you did some good work on the Jefferson article."

She looked up from her laptop to see Ashley, her editor, standing in front of her at the entrance to her office, hands folded across her chest and a small, proud smile resting on her lips. Y/N matched her stance, giving a self-satisfied grin.

"Why, thank you. Maybe there are advantages to nearly being hit by the Secretary of State's car." Y/N shrugged, and Ashley pushed herself off the doorframe, walking further into the office with an eyebrow raised.

"You're kidding, right? Are you— Can you explain?" she asked, and Y/N just grinned at her.

"A lady never tells," she taunted, though her tone erased any possibility that it might not have been in jest. Ashley rolled her eyes as she reached her desk.

"You've gotta be kidding me," she said, "And to think, I was coming in here to give you quite the enviable long-term assignment."

She perked up at that, eyes widening as she looked up to her from her desk chair. "Wait, seriously? What is it?"

"A lady never tells," Ashley mocked her in an overly-dramatic voice, and Y/N just scowled.

"Oh, c'mon, I don't talk like that," she complained, "Don't be like this."

"Just following suit," Ashley shot her a wink, and she rolled her eyes. "Anyway, the first article you published in D.C. was an exclusive with the Secretary of State announcing that he was running for president. That was the first time people saw your name around here. So, their knee-jerk reaction next time they see it will be to believe what you're saying, especially if you're talking about the same thing."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, and Ashley grinned. "What I'm saying, Y/N, is that, because this is how you started your career, people trust you, especially about the presidential race, especially about Secretary Jefferson."

"I like the sound of that," Y/N said, and Ashley laughed.

"So do I. Trust me when I say it's good for business."

"I can imagine." Y/N hesitated, flipping her pen about her thumb, her brow furrowed, before asking, "So what, then? What's this 'enviable assignment'?"

"I want you to cover the Jefferson campaign through to the election." Y/N's eyes widened, and Ashley was quick to continue, "Now before you say anything, I want to elaborate. This would be a primary assignment. You'd have to build a network exclusively for information on the campaign. You'd have to spend your time digging up dirt on Jefferson and staying updated on his campaign, ideally from near to the source. Essentially, you'll have to structure your life around paying attention to his."

Y/N wrinkled her nose; she agreed with neither his rhetoric nor his policy, so being paid to think about him every waking moment wasn't the most appealing idea.

"But on the other hand, you'll quickly become the person that sources reach out to with pertinent information, your name will become known in our field, and you'll be able to get... well, just about whatever role you want as a journalist after the election, assuming you do the job well. It'd be something of a shortcut to the top."

Y/N sighed, her eyes wide, and pursed her lips. "Sounds like... a lot. It'd be a lot."

"I know," Ashley said, "but I want you to consider it. It'd be good for the Post and for you."

She let out a dry chuckle, raking a hand through her hair and looking back up at Ashley. "It would be good for me, wouldn't it?" Y/N said softly, a small smile resting on her lips. Ashley nodded.

"It'd be more than good."

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line, dropping her gaze to the floor wordlessly. Ashley folded her arms. She recognized Y/N's blank expression — as stunned as she herself had been when promoted to manager of the Washington sector. She knew she'd need time.

"Just... think on it. You have until Friday," she said softly, tapping on Y/N's desk as she turned to leave.

__________________

"SO HOW LONG did she give you to decide?" Angelica stuffed another chopstick-full of takeout noodles into her mouth as Eliza struggled to get Netflix running on their TV. Y/N sighed.

"Only the next four days. I have to tell her on Friday."

"You shouldn't do it. Can you imagine having to spend a whole year dealing with that dick?" Alex asked, scrunching up his nose as he entered, popcorn and glasses in hand. Eliza shot him a glare as Y/N groaned.

"Language!" she hissed, and Alex rolled his eyes.

"C'mon, Philip's with the sitter," he whined, "It's, like, not that deep."

"That doesn't mean you should make it a habit of cursing about Jefferson! Our son is impressionable," she huffed, whacking his knee as he reached the couch. He pursed his lips.

"Also, for the last time, Alex, you hating him isn't an argument for me not to do this." Y/N yanked the dumplings out of his hands, angrily stuffing the entirety of one into her mouth as she glared at him. "Anyway, ar'n't you a politician? Ishn't talking about your coworkersh like that, like, illegal?"

"You're lucky we understood any of that with how much food you're eating." Eliza sat down next to Y/N, stealing the takeout container from her lap as Y/N whined in protest. Alex scoffed.

"I can talk about that asshole any way I want. He's resigning, anyway." Alex took a seat next to Eliza, absentmindedly draping an arm over her shoulders. "Besides, you hate him just as much as I do; don't even pretend."

"Hate's a strong word for it," she protested, "How could I hate him? I don't even know him."

"Sure, but you hate what he stands for," Alex said reasonably. Y/N huffed.

He was far from wrong; that was the exact thing that'd left her with such heavy reservations, but she couldn't give him the satisfaction of saying it. At that point, Angelica rolled her eyes, chucking a chopstick at him.

"Can you think about the positives for a half second?" she asked, turning to Y/N, "This would be such a good career move for you—"

"But at what cost?" Alex interjected.

"Don't start," Eliza scolded, whacking his chest lightly.

"And almost anyone else would jump at an opportunity like this. I know I would," Angelica continued, ignoring him, "And Alex could get you great connections and sources for your articles. Your networking is just about done for you."

Alex narrowed his eyes at that. "I am so not going to—"

"Yes, you are." Eliza narrowed her eyes right back. Alex scowled.

"Anyway," Angelica continued, "I think you should do it. Don't let Jefferson's horrible personality get in the way of your success."

Y/N scrunched up her nose. "I dunno; his horrible personality is a pretty big factor."

"Y/N, just know that I support your decision either way. It's your career, not these two's," Eliza said, giving Y/N a comforting smile as she reached over to squeeze her hand. Y/N met her expression with a soft smile of her own, though it didn't quite meet her eyes.

"Thanks, Lize," she sighed, "I just feel like, y'know... I might regret it if I take the job, but I'll always wonder if I don't."

"There's no good option, honey; we know," Angelica said sympathetically, "But look at the pros and cons, alright? What's the worst that happens if you take the job, hm?" She raised her eyebrows, and Y/N pursed her lips, holding back a scowl.

"I spend over a year miserable while tracking Jefferson's every move," she grumbled. Eliza sighed.

"And what's the realistic worst outcome?" she asked, "Because first, you really oughta think about whether this is honestly something that's gonna hold your interest for over a year."

Angelica nodded her agreement, her lips pursed at Y/N's sullen expression. "If you really think you're gonna be miserable, then by all means, don't do it. But if the assignment sounds like it could really be appealing..." She shrugged. "I think it's worth it."

Y/N sighed, raking a hand through her hair. Angelica's words were reasonable; they always were. And really, did she think she'd be miserable?

"For what it's worth," Alex added, interrupting her train of thought, "I still think it's a bad idea. Jefferson's trouble; you don't wanna spend that much time around him and his life."

Eliza whacked him, eyes wide and scolding, and Y/N huffed. "Thanks, Alex, real productive," she said bitterly, as both her friends glared at him. He held his hands up in defense, eyes wide.

"Hey, I'm just saying!" he protested, "If you take it, you have to be careful with him, alright? If he doesn't like what you report, I wouldn't put it past him to pull some underhanded bullshit."

Y/N scoffed, raising her eyebrows at Alex in disbelief. "What's he gonna do, set a hitman on me? Make me 'mysteriously disappear'?"

"I'm just saying!" he defended, and they all shared a laugh, Angelica rolling her eyes at Alex.

Y/N sighed, gave him a patronizing smile and patted his knee. "Alright, I'll keep it in mind." He scowled in response.

"But really, Y/N, Angelica's right," Eliza said, circling back, "You really need to think about whether you'll enjoy covering this. 'Cause if you won't, the career benefits shouldn't be the biggest factor, okay?"

She drew in a shaky breath, nodding. Would she enjoy it? She wasn't sure, and really, she had no way to be. But she couldn't deny the thrill that ran down her spine when he broke the news, when she had run into him, when she was writing the article, every time she thought of it. Was that enough to know?

She wasn't sure. She couldn't have been; she couldn't have known everything it would spiral into, how tangled her life would become into his. But she knew very well that, even so, there wouldn't be a single dull moment if she took the assignment. The past few days had already served to prove that.

She hoped that it would turn out to be enough.

_________________

"I'LL TAKE THE project," Y/N announced on Friday as she marched up to her boss's desk, surprisingly confident for having spent all week tearing her hair out over the decision. Ashley raised her eyebrows, not overly surprised, but entirely pleased.

"Oh really?" she asked, her expression only showing hints of conceit. "And just what made you decide that?"

Y/N gave a small smile, shrugged. "Couldn't throw away an opportunity like this on the off-chance that I got bored with Jefferson," she said, "Wouldn't be worth it."

Ashley grinned up at her. "Well, Y/N, I'm glad you think so. And I agree with you, for what it's worth."

"Well, good. Makes me feel like I'm making the right decision." She matched Ashley's expression, committing herself to optimism.

"And even so," Ashley added, folding her hands atop her desk. "You will not be getting bored over the time between now and the inauguration. I promise."

Y/N cocked a brow. "You sound like you speak from experience." Ashley only shrugged, a sigh escaping her lips.

"Yeah, I've had a few projects not too far off from this in my day," she admitted, "And the one thing they always are is interesting. Especially with politics."

"So I should strap in for a wild two years?" Y/N quipped, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Ashley grinned.

"Just know that you won't be surviving it standing up."

372 notes · View notes

jjmaybankx · 4 years

Text

WHY DO I STILL » STILES STILINSKI » EIGHT

masterlist

trailer

< five

< six

< seven

✧☾✧

HAVEN RACED TO THE HOSPITAL, SLIGHTLY ANNOYED WITH STILES.

When Jackson had called her in the dead of the night saying he was at the hospital, she really didn't care. It was when he said it was because he was dropping off Lydia that she sprung out of bed.

"Stiles told me not to tell you," he had told her over the phone when she asked why she was just hearing about it. "But I couldn't get ahold of Allison, and you're definitely more liked by Lydia right now than I am."

"Is she okay?" Haven asked as she grabbed her helmet to her bike, running into the garage.

"They're going to assume it's an animal attack, but we both know it wasn't," replied Jackson.

"Is she bitten?" Haven asked, her heartbeat quickening. Everyone around her was changing.

"Yeah."

✧☾✧

She looked around, seeing an elevator opening and Jackson walking out with a few deputies behind him.

She walked towards him hurriedly, calling out, "Jackson!"

The normally hotheaded jock turned to face her, panic stricken across his face. He rushed to her and surprisingly pulled her into a hug.

He pulled away from her, holding onto the back of his neck as he looked around frantically.

"Where's Lydia? Where is she?' he asked.

"Hey, hey!" Sheriff Stilinski called, grabbing Jackson's shoulder and making him face him. "What the hell happened to that girl?"

"I-I don't know," Jackson replied, his voice shaking. "I went out looking for her."

"W-what, you just happened to wander into the middle of that field, and you just found her there like that?" Sheriff asked, getting agitated. "Don't lie to me son."

"No, I—"

Noah grabbed his collar, angry, and Haven moved between them until the sheriff let go.

"Dad..." Haven said softly, keeping herself in the middle of them. "He's not lying to you. Lydia came by and told me she was going outside to look for him, and he passed me later, not outside so I told him Lydia was looking for. Whatever happened to her, he wasn't there."

"She's his girlfriend, it's his responsibility."

"No, she's not, okay!" Jackson replied. "She didn't go to the formal with me."

"Then who'd she go with?" Noah asked.

"Do you really wanna know?" Jackson asked, looking at Haven, who looked down.

This wasn't going to look good for Stiles.

"She went with Stiles," Jackson admitted.

Noah looked at Haven, his facial expression falling, "He didn't go with you?"

"Stiles took her," she replied, not being able to meet his eyes. It wasn't like she could tell her what she knew: Peter had done this.

"Somebody better find my son," Noah muttered, looking specifically at Haven as he said it.

✧☾✧

"Stiles!"

She peddled faster when they came into view at a parking lot structure. She wasn't even sure how she had found them, but she just thought about it, and there she was, making her way to a specific location. She left Jackson with Lydia, telling him to text her updates.

Peter rolled his eyes when he saw her while Stiles looked worried, eyes full of concern.

"How did you—" Stiles asked as she got off her bike, unclipping her helmet.

"Jackson told me about Lydia," she said, walking over to him, and he pulled her into his side.

"I told him—"

"Not to? I know," she finished for him, pulling away from him.

"Don't tell me your username and password is Haven," Peter said to Stiles.

"Excuse me?" Haven asked, bewildered.

"Ignore him," Stiles said. "Why are you here?"

"Your dad has the whole sheriff's department looking for you," she replied, crossing her arms. "Thought it'd be better I found you first."

"Are you a werewolf?" Peter asked her, and she shook her head. "Peculiar than you knew just where to find us."

There was howling, and Peter told Stiles, "Give me your keys."

Stiles sighed, tossing over the keys to Roscoe. "Careful, she grinds in second."

Stiles asked, "So, you're not gonna kill us?"

Peter turned around, and Stiles stepped back, making sure to keep himself placed in front of Haven. She snaked her arms around his, holding herself to his side.

"Don't you understand yet?" Peter asked him. "I'm not the bad guy here."

"You turn into a giant monster and bite my friends," replied Haven, shaking her head.

"With red eyes and fangs," added Stiles.

"Are you sure you're not the bad guy here?" added Haven.

"The finishing sentences thing you two do," Peter said, pointing between the two of them. "It's so... adorable it's disgusting. But I like you, two, Stiles, Haven. Since Stiles has helped me... and Haven seems to be smart enough to randomly find you... I'm going to give you guys something in return. Do you want the bite?"

There was a silence as both teens processed what the alpha was offering them.

"What?" asked Stiles.

"Do you want the bite?" Peter repeated. "If it doesn't kill you—and it could—you'll become like us."

"Like you?" Haven said warily, and she looked down at Stiles's hand, intertwining it with one of hers as she kept the other arm wrapped around his arm.

"Yes, a werewolf," replied Peter. "Would you like me to draw you a picture? That first night in the woods, I took Scott because I needed a new pack. It could've easily been you, Stiles. You'd be every bit as powerful as him. No more standing by his side, watching him become stronger, and quicker, more popular, watching him get the girl. You'd be equals. Maybe more."

Stiles looked down at Haven, gulping. She tried to silently tell him to say no, but she had a feeling he wanted to say yes. Peter grabbed Stiles's hand, bringing it up to his face.

"Yes or no?"

When Stiles didn't answer, Peter opened his mouth to bite it. Haven closed her eyes, squeezing Stiles's hand, but when she opened it, Stiles had pulled away from Peter.

"I don't wanna be like you," Stiles said.

"Do you know what I heard just then?" Peter asked. "Your heart beating slightly faster over the word 'I don't want.' You may believe that you're telling me the truth, or maybe you're just saying it for her sake, but you are lying to yourself. Goodbye, lovebirds."

When Peter walked away, Haven let go of Stiles's hand and pulled her entire body into him, the boy wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, running his hands through her hair. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" she asked, pulling way.

"I wanted tonight to be the night you get to be normal," Stiles admitted, placing his hands on her face, stroking it endearingly. "You looked so happy with Isaac... I... I just... I didn't want to ruin it for you."

"We're in this shit together," she replied. "C'mon, let's go figure out what to say to your father when we get to the hospital. And I need to call Allison again, she's still not answering any of my calls."

✧☾✧

They stormed into the hospital and Sheriff Stilinski pushed his son back.

"You know what? It's good that we're in a hospital because I am going to kill you," Noah said to his son.

"I'm-I'm sorry," Stiles scrambled, scratching the back of his head. "I lost the keys to my Jeep. I had to run all the way here," he lied.

"Stiles, I don't care!" Noah yelled.

"Is she going to be okay?" he asked, peering over his father at Lydia's room.

Mrs. Martin was brushing her daughter's hair.

Noah sighed, "They don't know, partially because they don't know what happened. She lost a lot of blood, but there's something else going on with her."

"W-what do you mean?" Stiles asked.

"The doctor's say it's like she's having an allergic reaction. Her body keeps going into shock."

Stiles started to breath heavily at the information, and Haven rubbed his back.

"Did you see anything?"

Mrs. Martin looked out her daughter's window and saw Haven, sending her a smile and beaconing her forward. She had recognized her from the few times Lydia had her over.

"I'll be back," Haven told them, squeezing Stiles's arm before she apprehensively entered the room.

"Hey," she said to Mrs. Martin, her voice small.

"Hi, sweetie," Lydia's mom said to her.

"I... I saw her go outside... I didn't..." Haven tried to form a sentence, but she couldn't, tears forming in her eyes as she looked at her friend. "She's only ever been such a good friend... I should've gone after her..."

Mrs. Martin stood up and pulled Haven into a hug, and said, "It's not your fault you didn't go outside with her. I'm glad you didn't. I wouldn't want both of you hurt."

Haven walked outside and stood next to Jackson while Stiles talked to his dad.

"Hey, I know I'm mean to your idiots a lot..." Jackson started, looking down at the shorter girl. "And that you don't exactly like me..."

"Jackson..."

"But I hate feeling this helpless for her, while your nerds are the only ones who can help her," he admitted. "And maybe if I hadn't gone outside looking for the Alpha, Lydia wouldn't have came outside, too."

She rubbed his back, surprised at this new perspective on him as he looked inside the window at the strawberry blonde, fear written on his face.

"I thought that if I had the bite, I wouldn't have to count on McCall to be the only one who can protect any of us. I was helpless at the high school... even Lydia was a bigger help than I was."

"Trust me, everyone around me seems to be trying to keep me out of this world," Haven admitted. "I know how you feel."

"They're not trying to keep you out," Jackson shook his head. "Stiles is trying to keep you from ending up like that."

They both looked forward at the unconscious strawberry blonde, and she leaned her head against Jackson's arm.

"So... you and Cemetery boy? You know he's my neighbor?" Jackson asked, causing Haven to laugh for the first time she he had called her, and she shook his head at him. "C'mon, let's go get coffee from the cafeteria. We might be here a while."

She nodded and he extended his elbow out for her. She looped her arm with his, peering over her shoulder at Stiles as they left. He looked at them with furrowed eyebrows, his lips tight, but she just smiled at him before looking in front of her.

✧☾✧

"Where are you going?" Jackson called after Stiles.

Both boys had now loosened their lies and untucked their button ups. Haven was rushing behind them, still in her sweatpants and t-shirt, glad she had the chance to shower and change before Jackson called her. She moved furiously, trying not to spills her coffee as she trailed behind the two boys.

"To find Scott," Stiles replied.

"You don't have a car," reasoned Jackson. "What are you gonna do? Find him on Salazar's bike?"

"I'm aware of that. Thank you."

"Here, I'll drive," Jackson offered, grabbing Stiles's shoulder. "Come on—"

Stiles smacked his hand away and said, "Just because you feel guilty all of a sudden doesn't make it okay, all right? Half of this is still your fault."

"Look, I have a car, you don't. Do you want my help or not?" Jackson asked.

Stiles looked at the pleading expression on Haven's face then back to Jackson.

"All right, did you bring the Porsche?" he asked.

"Yeah," Jackson said, pulling his keys out.

"Okay, I'll drive," Stiles said, snatching the keys from him.

Before they could take another step, Chris Argent was in front of them with two men behind him. Stiles and Jackson both stepped closer to one another, shielding off Haven.

"Kids, I was wondering if you can tell me where Scott McCall is," he asked.

"Scott McCall?" Stiles questioned. "Um... haven't seen him since the dance."

"Hmm," Argent said, obviously not believing Stiles, even though it was the truth.

"Jackson, you?" Stiles asked.

"Uh... I uh..." Jackson shook his head.

"Oh, for the love of God," muttered Stiles.

"How about you, Haven?" Argent asked, looking past the boys at her.

She put her hands up and shrugged, letting them fall back down to her sides. "As you can tell from my attire, I was about ready to fall asleep before I heard one of my best friends was in the hospital. I didn't even have the chance to change, let alone go see Scott."

✧☾✧

"Watch it!" Jackson and Stiles both yelled at Argent's men when the three of them were thrown into a hotel room, glaring at them for how they handled Haven.

"Is that really how you treat a girl?" Jackson scowled as Stiles wrapped an arm around her shoulder, bringing her closer to him.

"Let's try this again," was all Argent said. "Where is Scott McCall?"

"You really think it's a good idea to hold minors against their will?" Haven asked, crossing her arms and glaring. "Especially the Sheriff's kid? Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"Haven, I love you, but shut the fuck up," Jackson mumbled to her.

Stiles scowled at Jackson's statement.

Chris grabbed Stiles by his collar, slamming him into the wall while Jackson grabbed onto Haven protectively.

"Let go of him!" she yelled, and when Argent's men turned to look at her, Jackson stood in front of her, shaking his head at them.

"Let me ask you a question, Stiles," Argent said. "Have you ever seen a rabid dog?"

"No," Stiles replied. "I could put it on my to-do list if you just let me go."

"Well, I have, and the only thing I've ever been able to compare it to is seeing a friend of mine turn on a full moon. Do you want to know what happened?"

"Not really. No offense to your storytelling skills."

"He tried to kill me," Argent continued with his story anyways. "And I was forced to put a bullet in his head."

He hit Stiles's forehead as he said that, which irritated Haven.

"The whole while that he lay there dying, he was still trying to claw his way toward me, still trying to kill me, like it was the most important thing he could do with his last breath. Can you imagine that?"

"Obviously you guys weren't that close of friends," snarked Haven. "If you weren't able to help to an anchor to him, your connection just wasn't strong enough. And it's probably because you're the type of person to hold three teenagers hostage and practically assault one."

Argent glared at her while his goons stepped closer to her. Jackson, who was scared out of his own mine, stepped to be in front of her more, trying to shield her.

"Can you imagine that?" he asked again, directing it back to Stiles.

"No. And it sounds like you need a little bit more select—"

Argent was irritated with the snarky commented from the kids, and he smacked the wall behind Stiles. "Did Scott try to kill you on the full moon? Did you have to lock him up?"

"Yeah, I did. I had to handcuff him to a radiator. Why? Would you prefer I locked him in the basement and burned the whole house down around me?"

There were tears forming in Stiles's eyes and Haven tried to move forward, but Jackson was content in keeping her safe behind him.

"I hate to dispel a popular rumor, Stiles, but we never did that," Argent said, finally moving a bit away from Stiles, but keeping a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, right," Stiles said. "Derek said you guys had a code. I guess no one ever breaks it."

"Never," Argent replied.

"And what does your code say about holding three teenagers hostage?" added Haven, still on the topic of the fact that three grown men wouldn't let three teenagers go, which was probably illegal.

"What if someone does break your code?" Stiles asked, and Haven rolled her eyes as her question was ignored again.

"Someone like who?" Argent asked.

"Your sister," Stiles replied.

✧☾✧

"Seriously?!" Haven yelled down the street, watching as Stiles sped away in Jackson's porsche, dropping her off at her house before going to find Scott.

The door to her house opened, her mom stepping outside with crossed arms. "You have some explaining to do."

✧☾✧

She had finally fallen asleep when there was a ruffling in her sheets. Her eyes opened and her breath became heavy as she felt panic kick in, but it was overridden by the familiar smell of the deodorant on the person next to her.

"Stiles?" she said, calming down as she looked up at him. Both of them kept their arms to their own sides. "What're you doing here?"

"I, um... well I woke up your mom, first off," he said. "And then I told her I had a rough night and wanted to see, and she said you told her about Lydia being in the hospital, so I could stay here if I wanted."

"She said that?" Haven asked, confused.

"Well... she said for me to stay on the floor," Stiles said. "But... after the night we've had... I just... I want to be right here, if that's okay."

She nodded. She turned around so that they weren't facing each other, a blush on her face.

"What happened after you dropped me off?"

"Derek's the alpha now," he said solemnly.

"That's good, right? W-we like him?"

"I mean... yeah... but... the cure for Scott would've came from the one who turned him," Stiles said.

"So we're never going to be normal again?" she asked, her voice small.

"No," Stiles said from behind her. "But I promise to do whatever I can to keep you safe. We'll figure this out."

"Goodnight, Stilinski," she said softly.

"Goodnight, Hav."

next chapter?

NINE >

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