#This is the longest one yet

[hermitscratch]

15 for gem/pearl?

Send me a pairing + a number! || Accepting

15. An underwater kiss, Gem/Pearl, 1295 words

Gem could forgive a lot of weird things. It was the nature of the server to remind her at every opportunity that normal was relative. It was normal for Zedaph to dedicate his time to pursuits unfathomable to his fellow hermits. It was normal for hermits to be as shaped by their bases as their bases are by them, like Tango in the Deep Frost Citadel last season. It was normal for Joe to be a puppet- a very new normal, but nonetheless nobody had batted a lash at it after the first five minutes, because of course Joe would be a puppet.

Gem reckoned she knew enough about this fisherwoman schtick by now to know that her catches going missing as she reeled them in was... less than normal.

It was the same, every time. She'd cast her hook, watch her bobber, and reel the moment she felt something, anything, pull her line taut with enough force to be more than a passing wave. She caught the junk just fine, a growing pile filling the space behind her, but whenever a proper bite came along, there'd be a quick tug on her line like the fish was fighting back, and then, the hook would come up empty.

After that happened for the fifth or sixth time, Gem flopped back on the dock with a groan. She didn't even need the fish! She had barrels full, but now she was annoyed on principle. She earned those catches fair and square.

"I thought I was the favorite!" Gem reprimanded in no particular direction as she sat back up. The ocean would hear her no matter where she was. "Getting bored playing keep-away with Grian's mending book, so now you've gotta take my fish? Look at me! Fish is my thing!" She wasn't about to let the ocean take it from her, either.

One more time, she tried. Kneeling at the very edge of the dock, she cast her line without its sinkers, purposely shallow. She needed a fish she could keep an eye on, no matter the size. When she got a bite, she reeled it in slowly, and just as it breached the water-

A scaly hand reached out and nabbed it off the hook.

Gem gasped, tossing her rod aside to grip the edge of the dock and peer under it. "I saw that! Where is it?!" Only the water's ripples answered her, a blur of distorted motion below that was gone before she could catch a proper glimpse.

There was a beat of silence. Gem sighed in exasperation, pressing her forehead to the weathered wood of the dock.

"I'll forgive you callin' me an it," A voice from behind Gem said, "'cause you look like you're havin' a rough go."

She knew that voice. Gem lifted her head fast enough that she almost tumbled off the dock's edge. Pearl was in the water, one arm propped on the dock to keep herself above it. She grinned, all teeth, and offered a lazy wave with her free hand- a hand that was still holding the fish she'd pulled from Gem's hook. "Thanks for the meal, by the way. This is way easier than hunting 'em myself!"

The fish wasn't large. Pearl tilted her head back, held the fish by its tail, and dropped it unceremoniously into her mouth. Suddenly Gem cared a lot less about her missing catch.

"You're welcome," Gem answered, fully distracted by the state of Pearl's body. She hadn't seen Pearl since the season's introduction, only hearing through the grapevine that she was based near Tango and Etho, but she's pretty sure the fish tail is new. "I should thank you, honestly, I've got more fish than I have space. Hey, speaking of fish, how long have you been one?"

Pearl's eyes shined, letting go of the dock to swim a circle, giving Gem a good view of her tail at work. "Pretty cool, right?" Her scales glittered a shade of maroon that flashed closer to purple in the sun, with accents of green around her chest, face, and down her arms. "I've still got my land legs, of course- oh, oh! And I can be backwards!"

"Backwards?" Gem tilted her head, intrigued, "You mean-?"

"You heard me," Pearl giggled, "Fish top and human bottom! Makes it harder to swim, but it makes for a great prank. Nailed Cleo with it earlier today," She sounded proud.

"That's amazing," Gem said, grinning with mischief, "Get Doc next."

Pearl cackled, "I'll see what I can do."

In time, Gem returned to fishing. Pearl stuck around to chat and catch up, and demonstrated that she was more than capable of fishing for herself. Gem lost a lot of bait to the distraction, watching Pearl's lithe silhouette dart through the water faster than the fish could escape her, but she can't say she minded.

"Here's the part that I don't get," Gem began, reeling in a hefty salmon that Pearl had chased onto her hook, "You were only wearing that salmon helmet for a little bit! How'd your code take to it so fast? Beef's been walking around in a salmonskin suit, and he's not a fish! Grian's practically drinking the ocean! And being a Mer would be so on-brand for me!"

"Oooh," Pearl teased, following Gem to the water's edge to watch her ice her latest catch. She sniffed, "Do I smell a little hint of jealousy, Gem?" "No," Gem replied wryly, "You smell a lot. I mean, look at you! You're big and fast and pretty, and think of how useful it'd be for building below sea level!" There were ways around it, of course. Conduits, potions, and the like, but it couldn't be the same. "I'd love to experience the underwater world the way you can."

"Do you want to?" Pearl asked suddenly, drifting back to the end of the dock.

Gem quirked a brow, closing the barrel and brushing scales from her hands as she followed, "I mean, of course I do, I just said-?" Pearl was gone. Gem leaned over the edge of the dock, looking for her.

A familiar hand shot up, grabbed a fistful of Gem's tunic, and pulled her into the water.

Gem had been in this water a thousand times before. Feet dangling off the dock, wading waist-deep to untangle equipment, swimming around to maintain the hull of her anchored tugboat, but it felt so much deeper when she didn't intend to be there. Briefly, she panicked, a flurry of bubbles that did more to disorient her. She wondered if she remembered to reset her spawn at her own home.

Familiar hands were holding her arms, holding her upright, and Gem opened her eyes against the salty sting to find Pearl's, mischievous and delighted. 'Relax,' Gem saw her mouth, 'I've gotcha.'

Familiar lips pressed to Gem's, and the gasp that followed was involuntary. The water burned, and Gem tried to cough, to move, but Pearl held her tight until, all at once, the discomfort went away.

Pearl pulled back. Gem watched her, confused by the kiss and the sensation of drowning that no longer felt like drowning. As if in answer, Pearl took Gem's hand and brought it to her own neck.

Gills fluttered under Gem's fingers.

"It won't last long," Pearl said, and Gem could hear her as easily as if they were above water. Pearl offered Gem her arm, "How's about I take you on a tour of that coral reef we saw on day one?"

"You better," Gem answered, holding Pearl's arm, "You owe me for that jumpscare."

Pearl's eyes wrinkled happily, "I bet I can make it up to you."

Laughing underwater was a strange feeling, but Gem could get used to it.

#GemPearl #PearlGem #Shiny Duo #GeminiTay #PearlescentMoon #Hermitshipping #Hermitcraft #MCYT #Hermitfic #Asks #Anonymous #Pearl #Gem #Astral Library #My Writing #This is the longest one yet #And it's for a couple I know nothing about asdfghjk #I really hope I did their dynamic justice #Also I'm sorry for triple tagging the ship #I couldn't get a clear answer on which to use so I used them all :'D

[terrainofheartfelt]

prompt- jenny finding out about dair and her reaction + her being happy for them

Dair + Jenny

After she hangs up the phone, Jenny stares into space for what must be twenty straight minutes. 

Her fingers twitch, needing something to do, something to keep them busy. It’s been her prime coping mechanism since, well, probably since she developed the fine motor skills necessary. If she was too hyper or bouncing off the walls, her mother put a crayon in her hand, or a pencil, or a paintbrush, and then later, fabric, thread, needles. The act of making something gave her a way to focus, to take all that ambition that had been born in her blood and do something with it. 

She grabs her sketchpad, starts on a figure and the shape of a dress without really looking at it. When she does, she realizes she doesn’t want to design anything at all, and tears the page out, a new blank one gaping up at her. 

Jenny sighs, slumping back against the wall of her dormitory, drumming her fingertips on the paper. 

She’s not…mad, not really. The way Dan talked, all cautious and careful and slow, like she was a feral cat he was trying to persuade to come out of the alley, he probably expected her to be angry, but she wasn’t. Or if she was, it feels different than the kind of anger that ate her alive back in New York. 

Not wanting to design but needing to draw something, she falls back on an old standby learned from her mother. She picks up a pen, and starts scrawling across the page, filling all the empty space, just random letters, well, maybe not so random, D-A-N, B-L-A-I-R, W-A-L-D-O-R-F, E-V-I-L S-P-A-W-N. When a sufficient amount of the page is covered, she starts connecting the lines, weaving the letters together until they’re unintelligible, a collected framework of lines, an abstract approximation of the iron outline of stained glass windows of the Anglican church down the street. 

Once satisfied with the skeletal structure, Jenny grabs her box of colored pencils. She’s meticulous, one color at a time, taking care not to use two similar hues next to each other. 

Her mom always made her own coloring sheets like this. In the evenings, after dinner but before bedtime, when Dan would disappear behind a book and Dad behind his guitar, her mom would sit in the armchair by the record player and just…color, just like this, filling an entire page with a riot of different hues and shades that did look like stained glass, so bright it reminded Jenny of the blown glass vases her parents displayed in the kitchen that she wasn’t allowed to touch.

Sometime, around the time Jenny was starting to think of herself as an artist too, she insisted that Mom show her how she made them, and she did. Jenny remembers being almost disappointed that there was no great secret to it. Scribble, connect the ends, color in the blank spaces. 

“It’s no genius work,” Alison told her, “but it’s meditative. Relaxes the mind.” 

Jenny could definitely do with that, she thinks as she picks up another pencil. Bright red, like cherry lip gloss. 

She didn’t yell. She didn’t give her blessing—because why should she—but she didn’t yell, didn’t make any accusations. She bit her tongue, and powered through the conversation best she could, sprinting to the end of the phone call. And now here she is. 

She knows what she wants to say, but she also knows that she can’t say it to Dan. 

You can’t badmouth the boyfriend. Another nugget of wisdom from her mom, delivered unto her last year, when one of her friends from show choir in Hudson started dating a grade-A douchebag, and that’s judging from Jenny’s rubric, which has a steep curve. 

Jenny couldn’t stand being around him, and more than that, didn’t want her friend giving her own time to someone who didn’t deserve it, all of which she told her mother. She and Alison undertook a thorough Full Disclosure policy when she moved to Hudson. It worked pretty well, even when Jenny didn’t like the advice she heard. 

“Honey, there’s nothing you can say that will sway her,” Alison told her. “All you can do is just love her, so when the bottom drops out she’ll know that you are there for her.”

Jenny kept her mouth shut, and, a week before senior prom, the douchebag showed his true, douchey colors, and Jenny was there for her friend. 

But what sucked is that Jenny would have been there regardless, so why should someone she cares about have to go through the wreckage of heartbreak to fall back on something they already had? 

Dan has a more resilient heart than she does. It’s just fact, they went to that school and went through their own dark forests of fucked-up shit, and while she broke down, Dan’s still there. Dan still believes, in true love, in finding the one, no matter how many times he gets hurt for the sake of the one. He’s so much like their mom, but on this, he’s his father’s son through and through.

Maybe that’s the problem. Sometimes Jenny imagines stretching her arm out over the Atlantic Ocean, plucking up her brothers by the shirt collar and carrying them over to London, to safer ground. 

But when everything got bad, she felt like she couldn’t turn to anyone, but even then Dan had been ready to punch out any one that wronged her, so long as he gave her the chance to talk and she gave him the chance to listen. So, she doesn’t want to cut him off. Even though she doesn’t know how not to, given what he’s just told her. 

So, she colors, she puts it onto the paper like her mother taught her, puts the words she couldn’t say into the phone into each swatch of color. 

She’s going to wreck you. She is going to wreck you and leave you in pieces and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to stop it. 

Half the page colored, she puts on her headphones, blasts music from her laptop. She cycles through most of Paramore’s discography by the time the page is filled.

Jenny lets out a deep breath as she examines her handiwork. Stained glass on paper. And, despite herself, it worked, like mac and cheese, like chocolate chip waffles, like any comfort from her childhood. 

On impulse, she grabs her phone, snaps a picture of her DIY coloring sheet, and sends it to Dan. She doesn’t know what to say to him, but words had always been more his thing anyway. 

Two minutes later, Dan sends a photo back, one of his own attempt, still in progress, on one of his legal pads he uses for outlining. 

Love you, she sends. 

Love you too, he texts back. 

Jenny’s still worried, but she thinks, or maybe hopes, that everything will turn out okay. 

3 years later…

Jenny and Nate stumble through the door of their Airbnb. Well, Jenny stumbles, she’s been in these heels too long. Wherever they go, no matter how fucked up they are, Nate always carries himself with an infuriating amount of athletic grace. It’s that damn pub football league. 

“Oh, couch,” Jenny sighs, collapsing onto the piece of furniture in question. It’s very comfy. They truly scored with this one, booked on a whim by Jenny while they were still on the train this morning. 

Dan and Blair had their own suite at the Plaza Athénée; when Blair heard they were staying in the 5th, she’d rolled her eyes, but even she was too happy to spend any time berating Jenny and Nate’s choice of lodging on the “wrong” side of the Seine. 

“So,” Nate says lightly, toeing off his shoes and leaving them beside her discarded boots, “how are you feeling?” He bends to pick up the coat she’d dropped on the floor next, hanging it up along with his. He takes such good care of her. 

“Exhausted,” she answers, hanging her head over the back of the sofa, as Nate drops down next to her. “Can you believe we were in a different country this morning? And we took a train underwater?”

He laughs lightly, stretching out and putting his head in her lap. “That’s not what I meant. I meant: how are you doing? About today?”

She frowns down at him puzzledly, arching an eyebrow. “Don’t you have a conflict of interest asking that question?”

“My interest is you, babe,” he reaches up, tapping the back of his hand on her sternum. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I seem to recall already having this conversation with Eric after Dan proposed.”

“Yeah, well, I’m checking in again.”

Jenny sighs, tilting her head back to think. “I’m good. Really.” She clasps Nate’s outstretched hand in one of hers, and runs the other through his hair, soft between her fingers. “I’ve had enough time to get used to the idea. And while I don’t think I’m completely used to it…” she shrugs. “The more I see them together, the more it makes sense.”

Nate makes a small hum, his little nonverbal way of saying I’m listening, and Go on. 

“I don’t know,” she takes a breath, gathering her thoughts, trying to shape them into words, “Dan’s always been just…himself, but like, in soft lines, shaded in. But…now he’s more…sharper. Like the outline of him has finally been inked in, you know?”

Nate blinks up at her, crease forming between his eyebrows. “I think so?”

Jenny laughs, and he strokes his thumb over her knuckles. “I just mean, this is the most himself I’ve ever seen him be. And if you repeat this I’ll deny it, but I think a lot of it has to do with Blair. So…” she sighs, melodramatic, “for him, I’ll suffer through being legally related to her.”

Nate snorts, face breaking into that sunrise grin Jenny loves so much. He brings their joined hands down, settling them on his chest. She’s never historically been much of a hand holder, but Nate loves it, and she loves him. And, she loves that it’s her he’s reaching for. 

“I’m happy for him,” she declares. “And I’m happy he asked me to come. And I’m really happy that we won’t be anywhere near when he tells Dad.” 

Nate makes a noise of agreement. “Or Eleanor.” 

“Oh my god, yeah.”

They both laugh, out of not only amusement at the mental image of Rufus and Eleanor’s respective reactions, but also relief, that Jenny and Nate won’t be in the blast zone when the bomb drops. There are definite advantages to the ex-patriot life. 

“Is that something you want?” Nate asks softly. 

“Facing the wrath of an Eleanor scorned? Fuck no.” 

“No,” he says softly. “What Blair and Dan did.”

“Elope in Paris?”

“Well, yeah, I guess,” he qualifies with a tilt of his head. “But I was thinking…just – marriage in general.”

“Oh,” Jenny says bluntly. 

Nate nods, his normally open expression cautious. 

Jenny sits back, thinking it over.  When Nate asks a serious question, she knows it comes after a long time of thought, always seeking an honest answer, so she tries to give him the same level of consideration. 

She’s not a believer in forever like her brother is. She’s so like their dad in so many ways, but in this one, she is her mother’s child. 

“I don’t think I’m ready for that. Maybe later. Way, way later, but not now.”

Nate nods, understanding. “I don’t think I am either.”

She lets out a breath.  

“So…” he trails off, “glad we’re on the same page?” 

She laughs. “Yeah. Yeah we are.”

She may not believe in forever, but if she had to draw it, it would look a lot like Nate. 

“And, who knows, maybe we can revisit this conversation at a later time, like…when we’re forty.” 

Nate grins, and presses a kiss to the back of her hand. “Sounds good to me.”

One word prompts

#this is the longest one yet #i guess the fact that these are getting progressively more loquacious means I'm gettin my groove back #jenny humphrey #dair #jenate #my love this one is NOT on the list 😘 #but. I had bits and snatches of this idea languishing in the google docs for over a year #so this was a good excuse to finish it #but bc you did not follow the prompt I also bent it a lil so I could write more jenny/nate muahahahahahahhaaaaa #this could be a standalone minific #but i designed it to fit in to the fever dream high auverse #fun fact the stained glass coloring thing is something my mama does #it's her thing to do while she watches tv. that or sudoku #and she taught me how she does it #and now i'm nostalgic and want to color #maybe when I finally make time to watch house of the dragon I'll pick it up again #hey @ other fic writin friends #anytime you do a fade like 'X amount of time later' - do y'all hear the narrator voice from spongebob? #*prompts

[mamaito]

[Housamo] Hakumen Date Quest

[That's right, if we are to be laughed at by such a despicable woman then this better be between us only.] [Never will we ever meet such a despicable woman again. Still--] [There will never be such a similar, horrible woman again. No matter where I go, there wasn't anyone out there that could parallel her.]

Hakumen used to work for her former master, Nuwa, who was the younger sister of the world representative of Hourai, Fuxi.

If any of them were to get caught, Nuwa would be responsible for the eradication of this world and this troubling times would follow them all together.* *(This is referring to the fact there are three kitsune's in Nuwa's service and not just Hakumen.)

When the skies split, she brandished out her sacred artifact and advanced forward, it was then that it would be fated as the sign of war whenever she came out, exterminating anyone on sight.

[Hakumen] "Well, if her name is going to be sullied by these unpleasant guests then mayhap I should consider doing something upsetting." "But my mistress would rip the notion when I brought it to her, saying something along the lines of: [So what?] to each answer I relayed to her." "This may not have fully happened first hand, but you know what? Never before in my line of service has any of my former masters ever turned down my nonsense before!" "… I laughed, this mistress of mine was such a terrifying woman, there was no one like her." "I have never seen the face of her older brother, Lord Fuxi, either. But I sat there cross legged laughing." "Whenever the skies would rip itself each time, she would shout profanities out loud towards it." "As a result, world's would then be destroyed in the end. -- It was fine leaving these hopeless lands to it's lonesome." "One out of the many people there would yell out: [It's that horrible woman's fault.] and say every slander that they could, worsening her reputation further and feared even more." "Did she even understood what this meant for her, I wonder? The only thing I was able to understand was that excitement welling up inside this mistress of mine behind whatever motive she had." "And so her horrible reputation continued. [I don't care] she'd say, [I'm merely doing it for love.] she'd say." "I do wonder who was this individual that she loved so much for her to be instigating a war this long… Who was this ideal person for this horrible woman?" "Yes, that's right, in this story of her eventual banishment, just where was this supposed lover in question that she loved so much during this whole ordeal."

The entire population of Hourai wondered as to where has this despicable woman gone to, Hakumen also wondered where has that despicable woman gone to.

Regardless, no matter which world I go off to, I only knew of this horrible woman and nothing else.

Leaving her homeland, Hourai, she crossed over to Tokyo and there she met her horrible woman.

Legends of this seductress that has been documented is stated to have taken the form of a sixteen year old girl throughout the Tang Dynasty when she was first dispatched to ride into one of the boats.

From this point onwards, this was the beginning of Hakumen sailing across the world for this woman's existing reincarnation.

[Hakumen] "Yes, the world may laugh at me for pursuing her in moments of frightening journeys." "Even so, I will follow this former mistress of mine in the same road as she takes." "Let's not forget-- that I am merely doing this out of love and she has nothing to fear in regards to overthrowing her spot, for I have no intention in doing so." "It is too late to ridicule the notion that I am feigning jubilance by lonesome. I have only myself to fear now, ohohoh!"

Out of the twenty-three disctricts available in tokyo, she decided to reside in Minato Ward. There are six chosen individuals in this city, the former centralized themselves solely on this one specific place.

Those in the center of this city--

The Roppongi guild was shining quite brilliantly, and the six ruling world representatives have arrived.

Everyone was aware of what world they were representing and so they each ranked one another in their own way.

There would no doubt be infighting occurring every now and then amongst each other but they made sure they've supervised one another for the good of the company they represent, reigning over in the midst of trickery and ensure that it can blossom into an eventual flower.

For how to make fortune and power blossomed into their hands, each ruler would have an opinion differing from their own.

Sometimes a faction would act hostile towards their companion's faction and they in turn would do anything in capturing this said aggressor.

Sometimes a group of business men would show up with fresh inventions and they'd quickly battle it out for who gets to it first.

Sometimes Tokyo would be split between the old and the new ways, and two sides would eventually lead for the other person to becoming close to one another.

The former six made it their own and constructed around the Minato ward with only the finest that they can offer to out compete the other.

This was tokyo's casino. The very symbol of Hakumen's control.

The estate itself shimmers luxuriously into the night. The establishment's varied entertainments reaches even in the very depths of it's structure.

Hakumen flaunted her wealth and it became known to be the most frequent stop for tokyo's luxury class citizens.

-- During those times, she has acquired an abundance of acquaintances in Tokyo.

However, no matter how many there'd be, there would only be one person for her. For Hakumen, there will only be one special person for her.

Those countless battles that were overcomed, laughing together, crying together-- Slowly, that distance between them would fade, inching them even closer together.

Before they could notice the change, the two had shared a mutual affection for one another through the uttering of each other's name till this very day, where they have then decided to meet up.

Today, Ito is at Ginza, one of the most high class locations in Tokyo, where she waits for Hakumen's arrival.

You see her barking out a reservation for the very top floor of this store's cafe in good spirits and a smile along with it.

She strutted towards you elegantly, boasting about this tea and caked that's been prepared.

[Hakumen] "Ohohohoh! A-n-d y-e-t♡ Just as I expected, you'd arrive just at the right moment." "Hmm~ Such a nice face. Per usual, I'd look down on those lacking way behind, however, this time though…" "Wait no further for Hakumen's super ✩ deluxe afternoon. Come, do go in…"

Aware of her charming beauty, you watch this companion of yours politely hold out her hand.

Oh, to push yourself against those lips of hers and slurp it all up--

[(Whip up a smile.)] [(Immediately become nothing more but a lap dog to her demands.)] [(Say nothing and act coy to how much you're lapping her up.)]

[Hakumen] "Well, aren't you being obedient today. Still… It'd be even better once I tear it off of you." "For now, it'll only be the two of us. So slowly savor that tea and let the taste melt into your mouth in this blissful tea time of ours." "It's been a busy day, you see, and I wasn't able to find the right moment to come see your face. Aah, for this childish heart of mine wiles, I may only recover from it just from gazing into you…" "-- BUT THIS AIN'T IT!"

She lets out an ugly screech and her tails swish and strike in all directions. The elegant time you both we're having has come to an abrupt stop only for her to suddenly restrain her temper back into it's cocoon before it can do damage further.

[Hakumen] "It is our first outing in a long time since we've last meet up, but I do wonder if I was able to recreate the various love in those few moments we had!" "But non! I wanted an excellent, stress-free tea time, but this beautiful creature hungers for love, she is unsatisfied for not experiencing the freshness of it today no less!" "Excitement! There's not enough spicy love to go around! This urge to spill out this love can't be held in any longer!" "You think so, too, don't you? Right? Agree with me on this one! Okay?"

[(Be overwhelmed.)] [(You try to give your own opinion.)] [(Choke on your tea.)]

Whatever you were planning to say back in that moment was then shut down as Hakumen's graceful fingers close in to your lips.

[Hakumen] "Say no more! The two of us are of one mind! I already know what you were gonna say telepathically, through p-a-n-t-s… And breathing." "As for this beautiful Hakumen of yours, I'm afraid these nine tails of mine will stand out too much out in the public." "Come, let us date! After that, let us have a lover's rendezvous!" "Don't you find the harbor romantic? Or how about the shopping district? Too dangerous? Aah- Just imagining all those scenarios alone makes my chest stuffy and close to bursting out of me…!"

Hakumen turns around and bends over to sway her voluptuous figure in front of you, at that moment, the things that used to be out of reach and merely only in dreams just might come true.

[Hakumen] "It's been decided then at this very moment just by that smile of yours, how stimulating!" [Hakumen's Bodyguards] "Please hold on a moment, Miss Hakumen! This is a huge mistake!!" [Hakumen] "I'm eloping out of love from now own. As for you fools, do not dare butt in and utter nonsense ever again, you hear me?" "No matter how many of you guards are here, I'll be sure to give a reasonable 150% punishment with every one of you, understand!?" [Gangster] "B-but.. Even if it's nonsensical to you, punish us if you will, we are all prepared either way! Just at what scale do you wish for us to commit back?" "We've continuously protected you for up to two years ever since we've been appointed, and after all that hardship we've endured, fifteen of us decided to conjure a secret meeting with one another!" "We would not want to miss this opportunity. So we beg of you, Miss Hakumen! Please, please reconsider!" [Hakumen] "My, my, you're all submitting down while desperately pleading to me… Aah, my tails are smiling from all this excitement." "I understand. For today, I'll go on ahead and speak privately with this companion of mine and that I must prioritize this family that I cherish so much in this organization." "To sully this family that I have conjured by myself within this organization, I wouldn't wish to make an enemy of myself within the six of this original guild." "-- Is what you'd want me to say, didn't you?" [Hakumen's Bodyguards] (Mm-Hmm.) [Hakumen] "But still, my answer is still [Non]. To my intelligent and cute associates and alike, I refuse." "When I say it's a date, I say that it's a DATE! Even if this country goes to ruin, let's get to it!" [Hakumen's Bodyguards] "T-to go to this extent just for a date!"

The bodyguards in question let's Hakumen by herself with a daring smile showing through.

[Hakumen] "Oh my. How about that, for I, to be on my lonesome? Are you insinuating this burning love of mine should remain?" "This adorable, beautiful and dazzling me to be on this fine evening, my tails and curves are just radiating with all this love to give! My talents cannot be subdued! I'll be able to attend to your every need even! From cooking, washing to cleaning!" "There is only one thing left that can be taken away from all this absurdities. It's expected to laugh from all this. at any rate, well.. That is to say, uh--" "Ridicule not for my entire motive is love! In other words, YOU are my one and only love! Understand?"

[[Nod for now.)] [(Clap by instinct.)] [(Retort back on her argument.)]

[Hakumen] "Huhuh, just as what I would expect from the woman I've fallen in love for. Otherwise, I would've turned down this meeting for nothing." [Gangster] "Then, I take it that this business talk is therefore cancelled, yes?" [Hakumen] "Non! We've yet to decide where to go! I suppose no matter what country we go in, it'd dissipate anyway! Anyway, Let's go! To the business talk it is!" [Gangster] "Wah. I am so confused, miss Hakumen! But still, you're still so lovely… (I shall take responsibility.)" [Hakumen] "Fufuh, I have yet to make a mistake. Today, I shall match my date time AND business time together."

Just as Hakumen says it out loud, Ito gives out a charming smile in her direction.

[Hakumen] "I do want that smile of yours directed at me always… Go ahead and look as much as you want to your hearts content, yes?"

With a bold and loud declaration, Hakumen hold's out her elegant hand towards you.

[Hakumen] "Now, let us be off. This is just the beginning of our private love talks!"

Arriving at the stairs of Tokyo's Casino, only a few knows of this particular room that exist within it.

This room was a place for conversing love of the privatized kind. There are many reasons as to why, but in here, you can make close contact and conversations with your partner that's far away from the prying eyes of the public.

[Mafia] "Hakumen. This wasn't part of the promise. Mind explaining what you plan on hoping to achieve by this?"

In this room, there was someone already waiting, wanting to speak against the fact she came as a pair no less. The irritation well received based on the tone he spoke on.

He glances towards your direction, assessing from top to bottom before casting his gaze elsewhere. It is clear the person is on guard and tension of the room's atmosphere worsens by the added anger.

[(Bow down.)] [(Unconsciously shrug your shoulders.)] [(Glare back.)]

[Hakumen] "Oh my, it's reenacting how a kitsune would look at a small animal before them. That look just now, why don't you gaze it back and show it to me…" "You don't mind that I lean myself against you in the midst of this business time slash date and enjoy ourselves to our hearts content, do you?" "Oh yes, this really is a date! I wish to add some spice and excitement in the ol' business type of meetings so I silently agreed to a date while at it!" "LET'S GO ☆ OPEN STAGE!" [Mafia] "You mean a companion? Well… It is fine, I suppose. But more importantly, I would like an explanation at least!" "I was made to assume that these secret meetings we had were suppose to have no one knowing, and that it was important that those coming were zero to none when I agreed to it." "Even more, the person in question isn't even on the list. So-- Just what were you--"

His voice began to grow a higher volume, vibrating within the confines of the room itself. But the woman next to you on the other hand, has already said the piece.

[Hakumen] "That is right, I did invite someone in abruptly. As an apology, I shall be attentive when I come and contact you henceforth." "Aaah… How beautiful you are." "This one is affiliated with our organization, you see. He comes from a great and important family so I ought to do and listen to what he has to say." [Mafia] "That attitude again with you. It is that reason alone! I have done nothing but receive insults in this family, doing the same thing as they do to me!" "And--!?" [Hakumen] "Oh dear, pardon me. Today is sunday, my tail just happen to interrupt us now." "I understand. How wonderful. I should reconsider the feelings and relationships I have with the family." "That is why for this reason alone I brought company over. It's a shame, really. Dear guest, by all means, why don't I introduce her myself…" [Mafia] "Pardon…!?" [Hakumen] "I'll say it louder! Say it directly to this person here--" "This person here is my fiancee. My one and only precious lover. That's why… This person is also part of my precious family now!"

[(Take it in with utmost pride and smile back.)] [(Be surprised and look back blankly.)] [(Be rude and lie back comfortably with legs outstretched and feet placed on top of a counter)]

[Hakumen] (The atmosphere between us has broken in little steps. How can I possibly surprise you in this moment, I wonder? I was sure that this was the perfect time to pressure my partner in revealing my intentions.) [Mafia] "What. Did you just say…?" "The citizens of this city, Roppongi, is in the hands of those in position. Are you meaning to tell me there will be another new candidate for leadership for all of tokyo…?" [Hakumen] "Erase---!" "I, by no means plan on having a substitute and use this person. This one is my one special family member--" "I won't allow disgrace by those in the family towards her as though she's something to be passed around, you hear me?" "PAKKYUN--* *(Kiss and heart noises) [Mafia] "[SUKYUUN.]* *(Love and heart noises)

[(Fall backwards… From the impact.)] [(Be surprised again.)] [(Sigh exasperatedly and gaze down.)]

The atmosphere of the room then freezes over. As of now, the place was in Hakumen's full control, completely spreading all over.

[Hakumen] "Well then, let us do our private talk somewhere else. Somewhere my family won't come, yeah?" "Worry not, it is an excellent location where we can do whatever to our hearts content, ain't that nice? It is as you thought, I'll give to you… Alone♡"

The sound of a whip has bends from afar. And this private talk with Hakumen is soon coming to a close.

And so there the two of you were, once again descending down the tokyo's casino. The vast ocean in full view through the window door like a portal to another world. Above you was the blue seas's gentle breeze and the clear view of scope to the horizon.

[Hakumen] "(Soon.)" "It is somewhat quick for dinner to be arriving. We've already had tea not long ago, so how about you and I make some light conversation--" "This is a handmade tea that I just conjured. I am using this to affectionately appeal before you once it all ends." "It is the taste that I hold dear from by hometown, I would be grateful if it could also suit to your tastes."

[(Hear more about her hometown.)] [(Tell her to make it quick so you can admire the silence.)]

[Hakumen] "…"

Hakumen then bursts into laughter before staring at Ito motionlessly.

[Hakumen] "The world that I was from has already died. Before coming here, I was in another world called Hourai, the land of the gods." "From the land of the gods to tokyo, I'm telling you this now that I've travelled all over the world… Though it was a bit idiotic on my part, I admit." "Whenever near land, I would often say to myself [Hey, this time, surely, this could be it.]… Ah, pardon, I seem to have forgotten to tell you my favorite part." "The pleasant smell of the tea leaves that were cooked via steam passed us by that I interrupted myself." "I've had this place blockaded for two hours. So let us take this time for ourselves, I have more stories to tell you." "How about it? This feelings I harbor is rather prohibited when it comes to a private matter." "Grace, refinement, and an excellent figure atop of it. These eyes of mine could never mistaken." "Of course, you've been watching over me all this time with your blessing. I know full well since the very first day, I can tell when you've been observing very intently behind me."

[(Say that you were trying to at least be somewhat helpful in a way.)] [(Admire the fact that time just passes by so quick.)] [(Say you were glad that you manage to make her smile in spite of it.)]

[Hakumen] "Fufuh, you're still the same as ever. No matter how detestable it is… You are amazing."

Hakumen sips the tea, acting coy as she straightens herself out.

The air changes between the two of you. The roar of the waves getting louder and violent against your ears.

[Hakumen] "Love, too, is just business to me. There is, after all, various ways to bargain for it." "I shall continue to be a powerful backer. Mm Hmm, it is successful and effective way." "However, I no longer wish to sit cross legged in front of you. Nor do I want to be used by you, I'm afraid that I am more suited in other fields where my abilities is befitting." "Now, there are things I must learn. An eye for an eye, the appropriate years for the other's age. And most important, family--" "And look here. I have done so much that I've risen myself above my own master who I was employed to back then." "Has the end result of everything I've worked so hard for be classified as good enough, I wonder, fufuh."

Her nine tails swishes elegantly in spite of it's dubious intentions. From the way this woman stares at you with those blue eyes, it was as though she was about to soak up your entire being.

There is no artifact around her with the exception of her alluring and natural ability.

[(Your insides aflame, your heart beats faster.)] [(Be unsettled and tilt your head at her.)] [(Gulp thickly and return the gaze back at her.)]

[Hakumen] ".. You're also behaving in the same way as I was when I was sitting in front of you cross legged."

Akin to someone spellbound at the way the woman looks at you with those eyes. The color of it carrying a mellow feel to it, her words spin around you.

[Hakumen] "You're the one who taught me all of this, after all. Oh you, you really are such a horrible woman, you know that?" "You were such a greedy woman. Fame, riches, and status, you had all of it, you've obtained it all even." "Even so, if you still favor me… And wish to seize me for that reason alone, then I have no qualms in throwing all of this away for you."

[(Ask what she means by that.)] [(Respond back by saying you're fully aware of it.)] [(Say nothing and continue to wait.)]

[Hakuman] "I have everything that anyone could ever think of except your heart." "I may have done everything even before you even arrived in tokyo." "I've even managed to experience what it feels like to have an audience awaiting me."

[(Get mad at the thought of being thought of as an object.)] [(Even so, it might be interesting to reciprocate back.)] [(Say nothing and continue to wait.)]

[Hakumen] "… Fufufuh. I happen to find it the best." "All for the sake of love that she managed to destroy a world for it, the world that woman lived in." "Ordering it in the name of another, I did as she asked." "Numerous worlds were eradicated in the name of her love that she wishes to be equals with… How many were there exactly?"

The woman's blue eyes starts to waver in the dim light.

[Hakumen] "If you were born as nothing more but a mistress to someone, would you be willing to do it?" "If I were to go through that again, do stop me." "Well, whichever I land on, I'd rather have a bigger and greater aspiration than that."

Hakumen recollects the days with that horrible woman that she speaks about, looking back at the woman opposite to her.

The person that she yearns for… The despicable woman that she would often dream about.

No one else ran after her, but there were days that horrible woman would dream of it.

[(Respond back.)] [(Lean over for a kiss.)] [(Roughly hold her in your arms.)]

[Hakumen] "Master, no matter how much the day passes, you're still the same as ever, cold and intimidating…" "Fufufuh… Ohohohoh!"

[(Express your worry.)] [(Wait and see what happens.)] [(Be at ease and smile.)]

[Hakumen] "That resolve of yours, I love it! I'll certainly make these dreams into a reality." "From now on, this'll be the start of what's to come. I shall make you my courtesan, will you take me as yours also?"

[Hakumen] "Oh my. It's become quite serious, hasn't it? I've become serious about it…!" "It's fine, right..? -- Let's go! Lean on me!"

Hakumen's array of tails becomes disorganized. Gazing back at you with those deep blue eyes of hers.

Nevertheless--

[Hakumen] "Oh! Be quiet, you. It's still not night yet and the dusk is still around." "Ohohohoh! Pardon me. For me to show you this shameful side of me at such a place." "There's still a long way we need to climb after this. For now, how about we go and have dinner." "Ah, at least lend me this mouth of yours. By all means, offer me this as if I am a inari shrine--"* *(Kitsune shrine.)

[(Relish in her.)] [(Restrain yourself.)]

[Hakumen] "Fufuh, am I finally suited to your taste? My, my, there seems to be a grain of rice on that cheek of yours--"

The woman gently lends you by the hand, personally taking the lead in removing it off of you.

And without a second thought, Hakumen casually picks it off and lands it directly onto her mouth.

[Hakumen] "Hm, you seem appetizing enough. However, this love that I harbor, are you even able to keep up with it?" "Yours ambitions are also mine. So I shall be taking this important matter seriously-- Fufufuh."

With those parting words, the wind then ceases. Whatever they could've spoken about further, only this woman would know.

[(Tell her that the two of you should go home today.)] [(Tell her that the two of you shouldn't go home today.)] [(Ask what she wants to do today.)]

[Hakumen] ".. Would you really listen to what I have to say? You're so mean, master, I wonder if you're feigning innocence on purpose at such a time." "I've already waited this long for this former master of mine already… I am quite serious about this, so please, why don't you come and play with me further?"

The day grows ever longer, with Hakumen and her other companion exchanging expressions that they cannot show to others.

Little by little, the lingering scent of the salty breeze is dipped further on her nine tails swaying.

[END]

#translation #tokyo afterschool summoners #housamo #housamo hakumen #this is the longest one yet

[giantkillerjack]

Today my therapist introduced me to a concept surrounding disability that she called "hLep".

Which is when you - in this case, you are a disabled person - ask someone for help ("I can't drink almond milk so can you get me some whole milk?", or "Please call Donna and ask her to pick up the car for me."), and they say yes, and then they do something that is not what you asked for but is what they think you should have asked for ("I know you said you wanted whole, but I got you skim milk because it's better for you!", "I didn't want to ruin Donna's day by asking her that, so I spent your money on an expensive towing service!") And then if you get annoyed at them for ignoring what you actually asked for - and often it has already happened repeatedly - they get angry because they "were just helping you! You should be grateful!!"

And my therapist pointed out that this is not "help", it's "hLep".

Sure, it looks like help; it kind of sounds like help too; and if it was adjusted just a little bit, it could be help. But it's not help. It's hLep.

At its best, it is patronizing and makes a person feel unvalued and un-listened-to. Always, it reinforces the false idea that disabled people can't be trusted with our own care. And at its worst, it results in disabled people losing our freedom and control over our lives, and also being unable to actually access what we need to survive.

So please, when a disabled person asks you for help on something, don't be a hLeper, be a helper! In other words: they know better than you what they need, and the best way you can honor the trust they've put in you is to believe that!

Also, I want to be very clear that the "getting angry at a disabled person's attempts to point out harmful behavior" part of this makes the whole thing WAY worse. Like it'd be one thing if my roommate bought me some passive-aggressive skim milk, but then they heard what I had to say, and they apologized and did better in the future - our relationship could bounce back from that. But it is very much another thing to have a crying shouting match with someone who is furious at you for saying something they did was ableist. Like, Christ, Jessica, remind me to never ask for your support ever again! You make me feel like if I asked you to call 911, you'd order a pizza because you know I'll feel better once I eat something!!

Edit: crediting my therapist by name with her permission - this term was coined by Nahime Aguirre Mtanous!

Edit again: I made an optional follow-up to this post after seeing the responses. Might help somebody. CW for me frankly talking about how dangerous hLep really is.

#hlep #original #mental health #my sympathies and empathies to anyone who has to rely on this kind of hlep to get what they need. #the people in my life who most need to see this post are my family but even if they did I sincerely doubt they would internalize it #i've tried to break thru to them so many times it makes my head hurt. so i am focusing on boundaries and on finding other forms of support #and this thing i learned today helps me validate those boundaries. the example with the milk was from my therapist. #the example with the towing company was a real thing that happened with my parents a few months ago while I was age 28. 28! #a full adult age! it is so infantilizing as a disabled adult to seek assistance and support from ableist parents. #they were real mad i was mad tho. and the spoons i spent trying to explain it were only the latest in a long line of #huge family-related spoon expenditures. distance and the ability to enforce boundaries helps. haven't talked to sisters for literally the #longest period of my whole life. people really believe that if they love you and try to help you they can do no wrong. #and those people are NOT great allies to the chronically sick folks in their lives. #you can adore someone and still fuck up and hurt them so bad. will your pride refuse to accept what you've done and lash out instead? #or will you have courage and be kind? will you learn and grow? all of us have prejudices and practices we are not yet aware of. #no one is pure. but will you be kind? will you be a good friend? will you grow? i hope i grow. i hope i always make the choice to grow. #i hope with every year i age i get better and better at making people feel the opposite of how my family's ableism has made me feel #i will see them seen and hear them heard and smile at their smiles. make them feel smart and held and strong. #just like i do now but even better! i am always learning better ways to be kind so i don't see why i would stop

[franeridart]

The Housecat Philosophy - Ep 38

Ep 00 || < Prev || Next >

Read the next four episodes on Patreon || support me on ko-fi~✨

#artists on tumblr #the housecat philosophy #original comic #original art #webcomic #my sketches #my longest strip yet #we're also adding two new characters cause why not #with this we're only missing one of dave's friends #she's appeared in the strips right now available on patreon already actually #but that's for another time #sorry about just how long some of these images are btw i hope they won't be too blurry ;;;; #i might have cut them in half but that was more work than i was willing to do at the time................................... #ha ha

[theghostshost]

Effigy AU- WIP SNEAK PEAK!

#lego monkie kid #lmk #digital art #lego monkie kid fanart #lmk mk #lego monkie kid au #sun wukong #digital illustration #digital drawing #I've been putting this oneshot comic off #for months #its the “longest” one i've made yet #but theres content to be made for my own au

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

OMG I’m so excited for this!!! Can I request Vil with the prompt rainy nights?? Can it be fluffy and romantic? Anyway I hope you have a wonderful day!! :)

Rainy Nights; Vil Schoenheit

Content; Fluff, gender-neutral reader, established romantic relationship

Content Warning; Reader cries because of a movie, death (movie)

Word Count; 700+

Author's Note; I had a vision; watching old movies with Vil as the rain came down. I had a lot of fun writing this, and this is also my first solo Vil piece, so I hope I did him justice here.

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You were rummaging around the TV console, going through the numerous DVDs and VHS tapes that were just sitting around and collecting dust. Tonight was your night for movie night, as yesterday was Vil’s, so you were weighing your options. Sure, there were streaming services, but there’s just something that hits differently with a physical copy, flaws and all. Plus it’s not like you could go out since it was raining like no tomorrow outside. So, movie night.

“Having any luck,” Vil gently called from the washroom, still doing his nightly routine.

Your eyes still scoured the various cases, trying to find the perfect one. “Not yet. Just give me a minute, m’kay?”

Vil gave you a hum as an answer, leaving you be.

Horror movie? No, he wouldn’t like that. Mystery? Too predictable… And then you found what looked like the most faded cases, colour worn away from age and a hand going back time and time again. That one.

Pulling it out, you dusted off the case, inspecting the title. Of the smudged-out words, you could make out The, some kind of smudged-out word, Blossom. It looked like a black-and-white movie, and on the front were the protagonists with their backs together, flower petals surrounding them, and a dagger above them. This, this is perfect.

Vil came out of the washroom, wearing his matching royal purple pyjamas and house robe, and glowing from the various skin products that he used. He looked curiously over your shoulder. “Hmm, The Bitter Blossom,” he mused, turning his gaze to you. “Is that your pick, Schatz?” His tone was light, a sign that he approved, and was mildly surprised at your pick.

“Mhm,” you hummed, placing the VHS tape into the VCR player. Whoever had played it last had saved you the trouble of rewinding it. “Have you watched it before?”

“Surprisingly, no. Copies of it are extremely hard to come by.” He got the sofa ready, adjusting the pillows, grabbing one of the many quilts, and a box of tissues, just in case. He noticed the look you were giving him, “I haven’t watched it, but I have heard about how it ends.”

You raised a brow, but shrugged. You pressed play and scrambled over to your spot next to Vil, getting comfy and pulling that handy quilt over the both of you — the rain had made it a little bit chilly.

The Bitter Blossom started playing. Not only was it in black-and-white, but it was also a silent film. The protagonists were two lovers who met by chance, their relationship going from cold strangers to a budding romance. 

But why had Vil grabbed the tissues? The movie was almost over, it couldn’t possibly—

But then the antagonist, a jealous ex of one of the main protagonists, stabbed the love interest in the back with a dagger. The movie ended with the protagonist hugging their love interest, flower blossoms falling down around them.

“Do not let the bitter blossom of hatred and vengeance bloom in your heart or mind, my love. Do not let it ruin the happiness which we fleetingly had.” The words flashed on the screen before the movie ended with the screen fading into black.

That, that was why Vil had grabbed the tissues. Wait, were you crying? That would explain why Vil was gently dabbing away the stray tears as they rolled down your face.

“A lovely film, love,” he whispered, “I should have warned you about the ending—”

You stopped him by grabbing softly at his hand, bringing it up to cup your face. “No, it’s alright. It was a beautiful movie,” you hiccuped, leaning into his touch. 

Vil caressed calming strokes on your cheek, the slow movements helping you focus on him. He placed a kiss on your forehead, a gentle hum escaping as the kiss lingered. “Oh potato,” your old nickname from when the two of you were still just only acquaintances, “what am I going to do with you?”

You grabbed a tissue and loudly blew your nose, “Cuddles?”

Vil sighed softly, but put his arm around you, resting his head against yours and placing a kiss to your temple. “Alright,” he hummed and continued humming a gentle tune until you were falling asleep. While he would prefer sleeping in bed, he supposed he could stand to cuddle with you on the sofa as the rain eased up outside.

~~~~~~~

Schatz; German for treasure, a common term of endearment

Tags; @azulashengrottospiano [I've seen the Vil brain rot and gushing], @eynnwwyjth, @xxoomiii

#dove does events #follower event #twst #twst x reader #twst x gn reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x gn reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #vil schoenheit x gn reader #also i decided to go with a VHS tape since i wanted them to watch an old OLD movie; plus i miss my VCR player #soft vil content to heal the soul #he also cried a bit but was very subtle in wiping away the lone tear #hopefully i wrote vil with some justice as I'm still trying to characterize him right #potato; said with love #sofia! #i also think this is the longest one as of yet ; just checked and yup! it is #that might change though as i write the others #thought about having reader call vil their 'schnucki' [sweetie-pie] but decided against it #but it does live rent free in my head #i wonder how many people read through all of my tags; cuz i do hide some gems in there as little easter eggs of sorts

[scarapanna]

I've cooked once again!! Sprinkled in a teeny tiny bit of lore too/silly

This took me 3-4 days but I'm really really proud of this so it was worth it

[I kept the video unlisted as I dunno if I'm comfty with making it public at the moment, but on the archive account there's a public playlist with the this day aria animatic and this one!]

#cookie run kingdom #beetle's art #intertwined opposites au #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #crk au #tw eyestrain #tw flashing #tw bright colors #possibly one of my longest pmvs hdfnjd #the last one I made with this style was around the same length #anyway colorful frames the beloved mwamwamwa/silly #idk why some frames imploded at some point around 1:40 something hsbfsb #still really happy w it tho #also I havent played the episode 2 of beast yeast yet sbfhdb #gonna fact check the amount of things I got wromg tomorrow lmao #beast yeast

[luvknow]

sanguine satellite | lee minho

Summary: The last time you saw Minho was five years ago when you rejected him to live out the rest of your twenties in the city. The next time you see him is on your birthday with another woman in his arms, and it sparked everything that was good, bad, and ugly. Now, after years of not being in each other’s lives, Minho tries to repair the friendship he broke while you fight your changing feelings. As you struggle navigating your friendship with him, you struggle more to navigate being single in this next stage of your life. Characters: Lee Minho x fem!Reader, feat. other idols Genre: friends-to-strangers-to-lovers, romance, angst, emotional hurt with comfort, happy ending, slice of life Additional warnings: cheating, alcohol consumption, food, aged up a bit and in turn age insecurity, a lot of mentions of a best friend with another idol WC: 18.1k

Today was a pivotal day in the office. Quarter two earnings were released to the public and other divisions of the company and, well, let’s just say with the increasing rise in inflation and the impending recession that everyone refuses to acknowledge, no one wants to buy anything. As a result, the earnings reported negative and stocks dipped, morale was low, and to top it off, it was only Monday.

In a way, this was a metaphor for your life; a tumbleweed of all things that could go wrong did go wrong and formed into an amalgamation of nothing to show for. Some people found value in the mundane, but this was supposed to be the peak of your career, your magnum opus, before progress plateaued and you couldn’t stand the idea of not feeling enriched. To wake up, leave, work, and go home was the reason you wanted to leave your home in the first place for something richer in the heart of the city. But you felt defeated after clocking out at 8:30 PM and slumped on the seat in an empty train cart.

The view of the lively apartment high rises and the warm light of slow brick-and-mortars made the late night train rides worth the twenty minutes. Work wasn’t always this draining, but after climbing the corporate ladder, more money meant more responsibilities and it quickly drained the light from your eyes as it did with many of your peers and friends. Youth was fleeting and today you felt like Ponce de Leon searching for the fountain to no avail, but at least the train would take you as close to it as it possibly could.

After packing up your life from home five years ago to move with your friends, the only plans twenty-something-year-olds ever had in place were reservations at 9:00 PM because you called the hottest spot the day-of and drinks at the bar next door after clocking out at 5:00 PM. You were young, excited, and hungry for life, barely sober most days and experiencing what it meant to be young; but what must be given, something must also be taken. Now, rent was rising, salary increases were few and far in between, and instead of deciding what martini you should be ordering, you were stuck wondering if being a worker bee individual contributor was worth the lull schedule or if taking the path to management and telling whiny subordinates what to do was worth the salary bump.

You and your friends once joked that stuff like this was what people in their thirties worry about. Today is your thirtieth birthday.

You didn’t have time for dinner and once again thanked the real estate Gods who put a restaurant so greasy at the corner of your block that you practically slid on a snail trail to the front door of your loft. So, here you were; eating under-salted french fries, chugging a crispy diet cola, with oil stains on your white button-up, ready to spend the rest of your birthday and probably the rest of your life alone on your overpriced and uncomfortable couch watching the latest drama you’d sob your eyes out to. All you needed now was a pet as your companion and you’d be the whole single-in-your-thirties package. Maybe you’d use that as leverage in your dating apps: looking for a partner, a pet, or both.

After fumbling with the keys, you sighed into your dark, cavernous home and dropped your bag at the door. When you turned on the lights, you saw the ghost of your soul leave your mouth in a loud gasp.

“Surprise!!”

You were greeted with streamers, glitter, balloons, and your closest friends wearing little party hats with their beautiful smiles. You never doubted they remembered, and most wished you happy birthday at midnight, but you should have sensed something was wrong when Chaeryoung asked for your door passcode because she ‘forgot her chapstick on your coffee table.’

She was the first to tackle you in a tight hug. “Happy birthday, mi amor!”

“Let the woman take her shoes off first, damn,” Jisung scolded.

“Wow, there’s certainly a lot of you,” you giggled after prying her off. “You guys shouldn’t have. Really! It’s Monday.”

“All the more to celebrate something worthwhile,” Chan grinned, handing you a glass of wine. “Welcome to the club.”

“Ugh, thanks.” Chaeryoung yanked away the oily bag of fries while you were distracted with the happy juice. “Hey, I’m hungry!”

“Don’t fret! We are having a dinner party because that’s what thirty-year-olds do.”

“Except we ate already because we thought you were coming home well before 9:00 PM,” Hyunjin grinned sheepishly.

“No, yeah, I love when my friends watch me stuff my face.”

The dining table was decorated with burgundy candle sticks, red roses, and black bows. It was definitely a step-up from your twenty-first bubblegum pink and pastel confetti birthday, but this almost seemed… meek? Romantic, sure, but a little dark for a birthday. As Chaeryoung scrambled to fill your plate with take-out and prepare the cake, everyone took their place back at the table. The lights dimmed and out came a jet black cake with a toy knife and red frosting that read, ‘Happy Deathday to Your 20s!’

“A bit dark, but accurate,” you mused.

“Make a wish-!” A knock came at the door. “Shit.”

Everyone looked at each other awkwardly. Chaeryoung, Chan, Hyunjin, Jisung, and their partners were present and those were the only people you regularly hung out with. Who could be left?

“Are people still coming?” you asked.

The boys collectively shot a look at a wide-eyed and frozen Chaeryoung, none of them willing to break the news or catch a stray. “Um…”

“What did you do?” you accused. “You didn’t invite that one guy I told you about last month, did you?”

“No, but I wish I had.” Another knock. “Coming!”

“It’s not a coworker, is it?”

“Worse,” Jisung mumbled. “For you, at least.”

“Minho!” Chaeryoung exclaimed happily. “You’re just in time!”

“What -” you hissed at the boys, “- the hell?!”

They all held their hands up in defense. Minho passed the threshold and your twenties flashed before your eyes. The once blondish short and styled middle part now hung loose in soft chocolate strands; eyes that once held the universe were dark and doe-like; and arms that once moved freely in his sleeves now tightened around them. He was a completely different man who you hadn’t seen in five years and here he was at a pivotal moment of your life, about to celebrate you and the life you’ve lived without him for the better half of the last decade. It took all your might to lift your sore legs to walk over to greet your guest and restrain from strangling your best friend. He wore clothes appropriate for a casual dinner party that didn’t spill into the blues of corporate-wear, clearly aware of this occasion, and a small gift bag. His appearance was intentional, not upon happenstance, which made this whole ordeal a lot weirder.

Following him in, hand-in-hand, was a woman. A stranger. Two strangers in your home.

He pulled away from Chaeryoung’s death grip and you locked eyes. It’s awkward, to put it politely; to put it rudely, it was horrifying. Your nervous system certainly felt nervous, firing fight-or-flight responses the way he drank you in like the first sip of a bitter negroni. How someone could evolve and change to the point of being unrecognizable should be studied by Darwin.

He’s the first to break with a small smile to ease the tension. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you breathed.

“Happy birthday, _____.”

The bag is small and neatly wrapped with care in your favorite colors. The woman behind him smiled sweetly. “Thank you. You really shouldn’t have. And thank you…?”

“Oh, right. This is Karina, my girlfriend of two years.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said. “I’ve heard a lot about you. And happy birthday!”

You brain buffered when she bowed. How awkward, because you haven’t heard anything about her other than her existence. You never thought he’d have someone so beautiful. Minho blocked you on social media a long time ago, so you wouldn’t have recognized her. Chaeryoung had to kick you back to life. “Ah, it’s nice to meet you, too! Welcome to my home.”

“There’s wax on the cake!” Jisung warned.

“Oh, hurry in! _____ was about to make a wish!” Chaeryoung pushed the three of you to the dining area.

There’s a bitter taste on your tongue watching him dap up the boys and watching her hug them so warmly. You never faulted them for being neutral. They were just as much as his friends as they were yours but having him here created a thick glass wall on your side of the table, like he was icing you out in your own home; that you paid with your own hard-earned money, mind you! This was as close to a defense mechanism you could build.

Nine people were watching you, all of whom were paired with another in the room except Chaeryoung, in your home. There’s a heavy shroud of dread that’s draped over your makeshift invisible box you struggled to keep upright. This was supposed to feel like a celebration of you, but it quickly turned rotten when you realized you were the only single person on your own side of the table, being made a spectacle as the couples moved closer and watched more intently. It was like they were watching a ghost of singles-past, feeling more appreciative of the life they procured together as you watched their hold on each other tighten ever so slightly.

“Make a wish,” Jisung sang.

You stared blankly at the three sparkling candles. What was there to wish for? You had a good career, a warm home, food on the table, and loved ones who kept you up on your feet. You supposed a better work-life balance would be feasible, but that was something within reach and in your control. To wish is to pray and to pray is to beg, and you weren’t one to beg for anything except for the pickles Chaeryoung picked out of her sandwiches. What was something that even you couldn’t control, something you had to ask some spirit dwelling in the ether for?

A flash of Minho’s eyes boring into yours made your face hot. Maybe you’d just let this wish go to waste instead.

You blew out the candles and applause erupted with Chan eager to cut into the cake. It was your favorite flavor from your favorite local baker whom you trusted every birthday and holiday to deliver the finest treats. At least this part of your birthday was perfect.

“So, what does thirty feel like?” Hyunjin asked. “Do you want the number of the senior home down the street from me?”

“Ha ha,” you drawled. “Aren’t you next, Hwang?”

“Actually, Minho’s next – ow!”

Chaeryong didn’t hide how she elbowed his ribs. She then gave a wide smile and her fingers danced. “Do you feel more mature?”

“As mature as a dry-age steak.”

“Well, you pair well with red wine, at least.” Chan raised his glass. “Here’s to you and to all of us, our priceless friendship!”

Most of us, you wanted to correct, but decided against being uncouth. “Cheers!”

When you were all in the younger halves of the twenties, conversations were about memes, pop culture, and the new hottest bar that just opened. Now, as you were ranting about quarter one earnings and the Windows 11 update, the others doubled down on the corporate jargon. Even Karina, who revealed she was a consultant in tech, participated in the conversations. Minho was the only one who remained quiet, but he was simply enjoying the company, leaning back in the chair with his arm around his woman. For someone who had never visited or even wished well on past birthdays, he was making himself quite at home.

Your birthday dinner lasted long enough to finish off three bottles of wine between everyone and for all the food to disappear, making clean-up much easier. As everyone scrambled around your home clouded in buzzed-up nonsense, Jisung was the one to tour your apartment with Minho and Karina, telling the tale of every picture you hung on a wall or framed on a credenza.

“This was when we went to London one summer after my graduation,” he said. “I’m the youngest, so I was the last one and we decided to make it a big celebration. I think this was the day Minho and _____ got lost and almost hopped on a train to Edinburgh by accident. This one was from Chaeryoung’s twenty-fourth birthday. I think Minho took this picture, actually.”

“Where are you in these pictures, Minho?” Karina wondered innocently.

There’s a breath of silence in the loft aside from you who didn’t pay any mind to his girlfriend’s ignorance. Not like you expect your fallout to be a topic of conversation over a candle-lit dinner date, anyway. You also didn’t expect that look on Minho’s face when he realized that to be true.

“He’s usually the one behind the camera!” Jisung answered, not exactly lying. “You’ve seen his Instagram and how he composes his cat pictures.”

Minho didn’t try to correct him, and they quickly moved on.

As it was the first day of the working week, Chan, Hyunjin, Jisung, and their partners were the first to leave. For whatever reason, Minho and Karina decided to stay back. Karina’s motive was unclear; either she was really bad at reading the room or the effort to be friends was genuine, but even when Minho asked if she wanted to leave with everyone, she decided against it.

“Let me help you take the garbage out,” she offered Chaeryoung.

“I can do it,” you and Minho said in unison.

“Nonsense! It’s your birthday and this one had a little too much to drink before coming here and when we got here.”

Chaeryoung gave you a sympathetic look as they carried several bags out to the ground floor. What a convenient day for the chute to be broken! They’d take the five-to-ten minutes of traveling to the ground floor out to the back where the bins were.

And then there were two, standing on opposite sides of the kitchen island, unable to look each other in the eyes after five years of abandonment.

“Hi,” he greeted again, lips flat-lined and unsure of how to move this conversation forward.

You beat around the bush. “What are you doing here?”

His tongue poked his cheek. “I ran into Chaeryoung last weekend at the bar I work at and asked what she was doing for your birthday.”

“Why would you ask that?” you asked coldly.

“I… just knew she'd be doing something for you. Maybe she took it as me asking to get invited, but that wasn’t my intention. I think she panicked, invited me anyway, and here I am.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“I could’ve,” he agreed, and there’s a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that asked, ‘but why would I?’

You looked away. “Isn’t this a far drive for you?”

“I live here now. Well, not here; on the other side, closer to downtown and near that bar.”

“Oh. How long have you been a city dweller?”

“About two years now.”

That lined up with his relationship status. It was a fact that it was easier to find partners in the metropolitan, yet somehow you were the only one to remain alone after being one of the first to move here. How was it that Minho managed that in under a month? And if he’s been here for two years, how have you not realized that?

You swallowed the rest of the wine in your glass. “How do you like it?”

“I love it.” He ran a hand through his tired head of hair, creating a split down the middle. The redness on his face had spread from his nose to his cheeks, as it always did when alcohol invaded his bloodstream. “I see why you wanted to move here.”

He, too, must have seen how time was of the essence, and with what little time you have in your young lives, the highest quality of life would be to live where your peers were thriving. If only he understood this years ago.

You nodded sourly, feeling the loneliness resurface after having to repress it for so long. “I’m happy for you.”

“Your mother once told us, ‘mean what you say and say what you mean.’ You don’t have to lie.”

“Don’t tell me what my mother says.”

Tension as thick as jell-o separated you from him. There’s a brief stare down after your threat, or what sounded like a threat, and you swear there’s hurt behind those big eyes of his, but he wouldn’t be the victim here; not when he was the one who left your life and blocked you out of his. He didn’t have the right to be offended by your unwelcoming attitude when he was never welcome to begin with. On your birthday, at that.

Chaeryoung saved the evening and rushed back inside, afraid of the damage you’d tell her later.

“Ready?” Karina asked, squeezing Minho’s bicep.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, being the first to break contact. You didn’t help him see his way out, but he said over his shoulder once more, “Happy birthday, _____.”

“Thank you for coming,” you called out sharply.

“It was nice meeting you!” Karina said cheerfully.

“You, too.”

Chaeryoung, the kind woman and hostess as she is, hugged them both and hastened to lock the door. She rushed back, clinging to you and holding your arms inside, likely afraid that you’d break something or chug the rest of the fourth bottle.

“I’m so~o sorry!”

“He told me how it happened. Tell me why I’m not surprised?”

“It was at the bar near your work that I told you about. You didn’t come because you had some reports to submit before midnight. And who do I see behind the bar? Minho, of all people! He was running that shit like the navy! It was hard to talk long over the music, but we said our hellos and he quickly brought up the fact you were turning thirty and asked what I was doing because he knows how much I love you and I’m the bestest friend ever – Anyway, I told him about the surprise, and he looked so damn sad! Jesus Christ, so you know me, an empath, I had to at least offer him an invite. I didn’t think he’d take it, nor did I think he’d ask to bring a plus one, like, yesterday!”

In the midst of her ramblings, you squirmed free from her grip and pulled the poor pouty girl into a tight hug. “I will not let him ruin what you’ve done for me. I love you and appreciate you.”

“It was so hard!” she whined. “The boys are so unreliable! I ask them to buy something for decorations, they don’t answer, and when I ask a few days later they’re like, ‘I got it a while ago,’ and I’m like, ‘why didn’t you say something?!’ and they’re like, ‘I didn’t think I’d need to as long as I brought it the day-of.’ Can you believe that?!”

“After over ten years of friendship, yes, yes I can.”

After cleaning up the remaining crumbs and dishes, Chaeryoung found the gift that Minho and Karina left on one of the chairs. “Did you open it?”

“No. What if it’s a bomb? Can you do it?”

She tossed out the tissue paper and peered inside fearlessly. “Oh!”

“What is it?”

“A gift card and a perfume bottle; a pricey one. Ooh, it smells good!”

The gift card was to a new bar that was opening on the same block as your office. Your boss was excited to finally have a happy hour location so close that you haven’t gone a day without hearing about it since its announcement. The name on the card said ‘DAHLIA’ and the amount it held was five hundred dollars.

“Huh,” Chaeryoung mused, “isn’t this address very close to where you work? And you like dahlias. Scary coincidence.”

“Do you think he’s stalking me?”

“Maybe it’s Karina.”

The perfume was in a sleek clear bottle with a white face and gold cap. It smelled of marshmallows, orange blossoms, and neroli. It would be the most expensive thing you’d own, cosmetics wise.

“They open on Friday,” she said giddily. “We should go!”

The projected menu on their social media did look really good… and they had variations of your favorite drink and ones you’ve never heard of.

“Think of it as a ‘celebration’ to the start of a new quarter! Since it’ll be slower now, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, accepting that poor-quality reasoning for a twenty dollar cocktail. “Ok, let’s go!”

Your best friend squealed happily and dug through your closet, plucking out the shortest skirt in your wardrobe.

--

On Thursday, Chaeryoung canceled on you to go on a third date with the guy she’s been seriously interested in. She was hoping to finally become an exclusive dating couple; not exactly boyfriend-and-girlfriend, but they’re not allowed to see other people since they’re exclusive, so it’s a label-without-the-label situation that you struggled too hard to grasp. If the majority of your peers thought that way about dating, maybe it was a good thing you remained single.

When you exited your office’s high-rise that day, on your way to the train, you passed by an alley in between the Italian place and the coffee shop you and your co-workers frequented. There was an inconspicuous red ‘OPEN’ light at the end above a black door that caught your attention. In a small serif font, the letters ‘DAHLIA’ was stamped on the door. Friday was supposed to be the official opening day according to their social media pages, but there was no mistake it was open as indicated by the bouncer standing guard.

You did have the gift card in your wallet, and you were craving that crispy green tea highball they had in one of their posts. It was only 6:00 PM, maybe they’d have some happy hour deals going on and you could report back to Chaeryoung with your findings.

You walked up to the doorman. “Hi, are you open –”

“I.D.”

Well, that answers that. He allowed you to pass into the low-lit glowing bar. It wasn’t busy like a Friday evening, but almost all of the tufted couches and chairs were filled, leaving a semi-vacant bar up for grabs. The aura of the bar is what one might describe as ‘vibey and chill’, as the low hum of the bass from the hip-hop song in the background vibrated your heart. This was as soft as a soft-opening could get.

On the menu, there was a special on the drink you were looking forward to and a snack pairing: rice paper and seaweed chips with a salt and togarashi seasoning. You knew all those words separately but couldn’t comprehend them together.

“I.D., please,” the bartender asked.

You fumbled for your wallet and mumbled, “Why bother carding at the door if you’re just –”

You dropped your wallet when you saw Minho at the other side of the bar in a white button-down that was buttoned barely half-way. His lips curled teasingly.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you gasped, popping your head up after picking up your wallet. “What are you doing here?”

“Is that the only way you’ll greet me from now on?”

You felt your face burn even before any alcohol entered your system. “Chaeryoung mentioned you worked at the other bar nearby.”

“I own that one, too. This one I just opened.”

“Oh, well, that makes more sense. Wait, ‘own’?” He nodded sheepishly. “But that bar has been there forever. I thought that old guy owned it?”

“He was looking to retire, so I jumped the gun and bought it. Kept it mostly the same, added some things I thought would pick up a trend, and it did so well that I was able to open ‘DAHLIA’.”

“That’s incredible,” you congratulated. “I guess I shouldn’t feel so bad that the gift card is so expensive.”

He smiled, but it didn’t translate to his eyes. “Do you work nearby?”

“At the tall building down the street.”

He’s just as taken back as you are. Maybe he wasn’t stalking you. “Crazy coincidence. But it’s late already. Long day?”

You sighed. “Most days are this long.”

“Yikes. Can I get you a drink?”

“The green tea highball looks good.”

“Coming right up.”

Minho rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and did his witchcraft. In a highball glass, a ludicrously elongated ice cube was placed. Then, two shots of Japanese whiskey from the mid-shelf (never mind the overpour), an ounce of cold brew jasmine green tea, and what little space was left was topped with club soda. Using a long bar spoon, Minho mixed its contents and offered it to you with a stainless steel straw.

You hummed happily. “Whoa.”

“I agree.”

“Where was this on my twenty-first?”

“I dare you to Google the whiskey I used and see if you think we could have afforded that at twenty-one.”

“I see your point.”

There’s a long pause of waiting for the other to say what they mean and to mean what they say. You thought about how coldly you displayed yourself to Minho and it ate up your thoughts the whole week. Even when he was the one who wanted you out of his life, he was the one to find you and it seemed he was here to stay, to be next to where you worked, and to be a part of your everyday life as you’d think about him every time you passed this alley between the office and the train. Was this a gift or a curse?

The wound was still fresh, but he was not the only one to blame.

You cleared your throat. “Listen, I –”

“I think –”

You both paused again. After all these years, your wavelengths were still in sync.

“Go ahead,” you offered.

“I think…” …We shouldn’t talk when we see each other? I shouldn’t have given you a gift? We should unpack the trauma we gave each other over coffee some time? “You should try the snack pairing.”

Possibly the best words to leave his lips. “Please.”

“One sec,” he said before running to the kitchen.

Your palms were sweaty, but if anyone asked, you’d feign it was from the condensation on the glass. Your first real conversation with Minho in five years was more stressful than presenting to upper management. Any courage of apologizing had fizzled and the fear of being vulnerable was chilling. You hoped the rest of the drink would give you that push.

Minho came back slightly breathless with a bowl of curly seaweed and rice chips with red seasoning. He stared at the glass that was almost full just a second ago.

“Would you like another one?”

Your vision was already swirly. “No, thank you. But these look delicious.”

The crunch from the fried rice paper was loud enough to make some heads turn. It was salty and the seaweed flavor shined through. The punch from the togarashi made you wish you had taken up the offer on another drink.

You let out another happy hum, and your sinuses cleared. “Wasabi!”

“Really sobers you up, huh?”

“I can smell colors.”

He let out a genuine laugh and you got a glance of his little bunny teeth. You wondered if he’d still have them when he was sixty.

The shy bartender fiddled with the kitchen towel. “You were going to say something?”

“Right. I’m –”

“Excuse me!” a customer approached the bar. “Can I have an espresso martini?”

“Absolutely!” Minho said in his customer service voice.

Espresso martinis were all the craze these days, especially with the ladies. You understood why, they were delicious and reminded everyone of a sweet little treat before the work day. You watched as Minho threw in his Boston shaker ice, vodka, coffee liqueur, and cold brew, and shook with all his might. The muscles you noticed on your birthday shined through, as the veins on his forearms and biceps were put to work. Your eyes traveled shamefully to his open chest, focusing on the groove in between. He poured the creamy drink into a martini glass and added it to her tab.

You drank the complimentary ice-cold water before he returned.

“Sorry about that.”

“No, no, I’m the one interrupting your work.” Despite drinking a multitude of fluids, your throat was dry and sharp, like the words were scraping skin on their way out. Just say it, dammit! “I’m sorry how I treated you on Monday.”

He shook his head. “I shouldn’t have ambushed you like that after so long.”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have.”

“For that, I’m sorry. But I’m not sorry for attending.”

“You should have chosen another time to meet.”

“Your thirtieth birthday is important. It’s a huge milestone. I couldn’t dream of missing it.”

“I don’t think that’s for you to decide.”

He hung his head in a way that a puppy would when being punished. “I know.”

“You –” you choked. “I don’t know. I don’t know what or how to feel.”

“Maybe we could start over.”

“Start over?”

“Hi,” he held out his hand for you to shake. “I’m Minho, I’m a bartender and chef, and we met when we were nineteen.”

“Minho –”

“Would you like to get coffee next door some time?”

“You are ridiculous.”

The rush of after-work over timers hit the bar like a thirsty school of fish. Two other bartenders jumped in, but they needed Minho to keep up a good speed. From his navy pants pocket, he pulled out his business card and slid it over.

“My number’s on the card.”

It was different from the one you had saved on your phone and he knew that. “Wait, I need to close out my tab.”

“It’s on me. Let me make up for Monday.”

He didn’t allow you to get a word in before taking the next customer. His mannerisms made every customer smile or blush. ‘Come closer’ he’d gesture with his finger, leaning in to hear their order, and winking after handing off the final product; rinse and repeat.

You left a hefty tip under your glass and slipped away from the crowd. At home, you spent half an hour rubbing your cheeks, unaware of how sore they were after the train ride.

--

The business card hung on your fridge under a London magnet. Every day, you’d wake up, stare at it while filling your water bottle, leave for work, come home, and stare at it some more as you prepared dinner. In the same serif font in black ink, in the center of the card was his full name. Under it said ‘Restauranteur’, followed by ‘DAHLIA’, the Japanese flavors-inspired bar, and ‘RED LIGHT’, the one with American flavors. His phone number and email were in small print, all information embossed on an off-white business card. ‘Classy’ was the most appropriate description of such a card, while yours was so plain in comparison. Technology products didn’t need that kind of pizazz, to be fair.

The next time you saw Chaeryoung was for a girls’ night-in on a Wednesday to gush about her new exclusive not-boyfriend. She noticed the business card while putting the dishes in the sink and plucked it from the fridge, already aware of what transpired on Thursday before.

“‘Restauranteur’,” she scoffed. “Ok, Minho.”

“I know, right? Can you believe he bought out that sleazy old man?”

“I always wondered why the quality went up all of a sudden. I can’t believe he hid that from everyone else, too! We’ve all been meeting around that area for months! Why did he give you this, though?”

“I guess he changed his number.”

“What? He’s had this number for a while now.” You shot her a deadpanned look. “Oh, right. You wouldn’t have known whether he changed it or not. Did you hit him up?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Why would I? It feels… too soon.”

“Five years feels too soon?”

“No,” you sighed, unable to form the words in the right sentence. “We’re already on awkward footing after my birthday. And seeing and talking to him made my blood pressure spike to an unhealthy degree.”

“So, you’re nervous?”

Nervous wasn’t right. It felt much deeper than that. “Afraid.”

If anyone knew the degree of pain and confusion you held for Minho, it was Chaeryoung. She always did her best to understand, but there are some things one must experience to understand, and this was one of them. She held you firm by the shoulders and knitted her brows.

“Give me your phone.”

“What?”

The music streaming on your phone paused as your best friend moved swiftly to the couch, already propping her feet up on the chaise before you could register what happened. The clicking of your phone keyboard over the bluetooth speaker snapped you back and you ran to join her.

“Wait, don’t!” you warned.

“‘Hey, bro’,” she said as she typed, “Too casual?”

“I’m thirty. I don’t say ‘bro’.”

“All right, jeez. ‘Hello, Minho. I hope this text finds you well. Per our last meeting – ’”

“Now you’re just being a dick.”

“I’m kidding, relax! ‘Hi, it’s _____. It was nice seeing you on Thursday.’”

“I wouldn’t say it was a ‘nice’ meeting.”

“Oh, my God, shut up. ‘Good to see you on Thursday,’ happy? ‘Would you like to get coffee some time?’ And send. This is fun, it’s like when we used to project our dating app DMs on the TV! Oh, wow he’s typing already. Asshole, he never answers any of us in the group chats until the next day.”

Texting a boy and sweating, waiting for his response… Were you thirteen again? The notification ding made your heart jump.

Your brows furrowed, matching Chaeryoung’s. “‘Hey! Of course I would. Just tell me when.’ Um. Tell him sometime next week?”

“‘Tomorrow at 11:00AM?’”

“Chaer!”

“‘See you then.’ You’re welcome!” she cheered, tossing your phone on your lap.

“Now he’ll think I’m excited…”

“Whether you are nervous, excited, or afraid, shouldn’t that mean something? That maybe you still have him in your cold, dead heart somewhere?”

“It took years of therapy to heal what was wounded. I don’t know if this will feel like closure or if I’m opening up my stitches.”

“And I’ll be here to help suture if it comes to it; again and again!” she encouraged, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I just want our friend group back together, you know? This is a start, sort of.”

“I know. Don’t get your hopes up, though.”

“Too late.”

--

The day it happened, the clouds were grey, and they cried and cried, pouring down the heaviest rain of the year. It rattled Minho’s windows like bullets made from hail, drowning the silence and filling the room with nothing but sorrow.

Tonight, you were celebrating your new job and the big move. After the plates were emptied, the music that played over his speakers slowed, and filled with wine and tenderness, you two swayed to the rhythm in each other’s arms. First, he had your hand in his and lightly hovered over your waist, leading the waltz across the living room with ease. As the songs progressed, his hold on you tightened. He laced his fingers with yours, traveled his hand to your lower back, then placed the other there, too, after wrapping your arm around his neck. He pressed his forehead to yours, the tips of your noses touching and nuzzling so sweetly it made your heart soar.

He sighed happily, shoulders relaxing under your arms. “Should we be doing this?”

“Hm, I don’t know,” you replied light heartedly, “you are just a friend, after all.”

“Do friends do this? Should we ask Chaeryoung and Jisung?”

“Not if you want to hear them gagging all night.”

His breathy laughs hit your lips and his eyes fluttered closed. “I want to kiss you.”

You’ve wanted to kiss him for five years. “Then kiss me.”

“And I want you to stay.”

“Stay?” You took a step back, hating the cold air that replaced his space. “What do you mean ‘stay’?”

“Don’t leave,” he begged.

“Minho –”

“Stay here with me.”

“No,” you said firmly. “This is the biggest thing to happen to my career, and I’m not throwing away this grand opportunity. Won’t you come with me instead?”

“You know I can’t leave my family right now.”

“Then,” you sighed, “do I wait for you?”

“Wait? We have options; what about long distance?”

“You know how vigorous my career is. I work long days and long nights. I can’t call you or text you the way that other people do.”

“So what?” he argued, throwing his hands up in frustration.

This was the first time you were having this talk. Never before had either of you revealed the feelings that mingled in the air whenever you were in the same room together. For years, you repressed them, too scared to cross the thin line that separated friendship from lovers and unwilling to feel vulnerable and reveal the true feelings of your heart. Because truthfully, you wouldn’t have time. You wouldn’t have time to drain and pour your heart into something – someone – that wasn’t the projects that laid out on your office desk, and how was that fair to someone you loved so dearly? As much as you wanted to love and to give, you couldn’t.

“I can’t,” you repeated. “That’s not fair to either of us. We deserve one hundred percent of each other, not fifty, or even ninety.”

“You’re not even willing to try?” he mumbled.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “How could you spring this on me the weekend before I leave?”

“This was my only chance –”

“No, it wasn’t. You had five years. Five years! And you know how important my career is to me!”

“What about me? Aren’t I important to you, too?”

“Don’t,” you stuttered.

“No, it’s not that I’m not important, it’s that your career is more important. Is that it?” When you couldn’t answer, he nodded his head, accepting the poor answer. “All I wanted was for us to try.”

“I can’t give you one hundred percent of me.”

“Then I’ll give more! One hundred ten percent; one hundred fifty!”

“How long can you last like that when you don’t know when we’ll be together again?”

“I won’t know unless we try.”

“I don’t want to try. Trying means uncertainty. For five years, I have been certain about you. But I’m certain it won’t work when we are not present.”

“We’re going in circles.” Minho turned and ran a hand through his fluffy, light bronze hair. This color on him, you remembered, made him look so young.

“I can wait,” you whispered. “We can be friends still, and –”

“I don’t want to be friends.”

You couldn’t decide if your mouth should hang open or sew it shut forever. Still, you managed to slip out, “What?”

“It’s all or nothing for me, _____.” His eyes mirrored your glossy ones and the tip of his nose that was just on yours a second ago was reddening. “I don’t want friendship with you. I want love and passion, and I want you to tell me you want it, too. We aren’t friends; we never were really just friends, you know that, don’t you?”

“I know.”

He closed the gap and his hands found yours, squeezing so tightly it was almost painful. “Then show me that you know! Tell me you want this! Tell me you don’t want to be just friends! Tell me you want me, desire me, that you can’t go a day without having me, the way I would for you!”

You shook your head. Long distance relationships never worked. You witnessed it through your coworkers, through friends, and bosses, and even old classmates who had deleted every existence of their past love and left no digital footprint on their timeline. Every relationship you ever knew to be long distance had never worked out, and you knew this one wouldn’t be any different.

He let go and stepped away. “I wish you a fulfilling life in the city –”

“Don’t do this.”

“– and I’m sorry, but I can’t be friends with you –”

“Minho, please…”

“– I can’t be just friends with someone who has my heart and doesn’t know what to do with it.”

Instead of rescinding, instead of apologizing and taking the leap of faith, taking the risk that came with being vulnerable and open and raw so you could see what it meant to be loved and cherished by someone who wanted to love and cherish, you decided to lock your heart away and to never reveal it to anyone ever again.

That was the last time you saw Minho. On your thirtieth birthday, he broke every layer you built to protect yourself in a matter of seconds.

--

“Earth to _____!”

In between ‘DAHLIA’ and your office, there was a coffee shop with outside seating. As you waited at one of the tables, the record player in your head had recalled that night, and once it started, it wouldn’t stop until it finished. Just as you finished, Minho arrived and waved a hand in front of your face and you wondered how long it took for you to notice.

“Sorry! Daydreaming.”

“About work?”

Did he truly think your mind was entirely consumed about work? “Yeah. Work.”

“Well, you keep daydreaming, and I’ll get us coffee. What would you like?”

“No, it’s my turn to get you something!”

“Nonsense! You also tipped me way too much. You still order the usual?”

If you were one thing, you were consistent. “The usual.”

Minho would do this finger-gun thing when he was feeling awkward, and he did so as he walked to the counter. His outfit wasn’t as formal as the night you saw him at the bar. His jeans were black and his sweater a bright cobalt; a color that allowed him to be the center of attention when he wasn’t asking for it.

You were the one to ask him to meet - or rather Chaeryoung was - but you didn’t consider what you’d talk about.

He came back with your usual and his usual, which was an iced americano. At least he, too, was consistent, and that hadn’t changed.

“Busy at work?” he asked, clearly not sure what to talk about, either.

“Yeah. Always busy, sadly.”

“You weren’t kidding when you said your hours would be long.”

“No,” you confirmed, “I wasn’t. What about you? What’s your work day like as the city’s coolest restaurateur?”

“You flatter me. I work at ‘RED LIGHT’ during the day, and head to ‘DAHLIA’ at night.”

You tried to estimate his work hours in your head. “Back-to-back?”

“Yup.”

“Everyday?”

“Kind of. If it’s slow on like, a Monday or Tuesday, I’ll head out early and let the closers handle it. Otherwise, my day off is whenever I feel like it, but it’s not a real day-off. I use those days to answer emails and organize the budget or the inventory. Takes every waking moment to run a restaurant or bar, you know?”

“I don’t know. How do you balance everything?”

“Well, I love my job. It’s hard, but I don’t find it draining. I guess that helps. I don’t mind waking up at five in the morning, working, and going to sleep, at least not yet. I’m sure I’ll hit a wall someday, but I’m doing my best to not let that happen.”

You’re afraid to ask the next question. “How do you balance your relationship with Karina when you’re so busy?”

“Phone calls, Facetime, designated nights for dates, surprise visits, little gifts and flowers here and there,” he nodded, looking at the table. “It’s hard, but we’re trying. That’s what’s important.”

Your coffee’s bitter and you didn’t want to bother with it after a couple of sips, but you keep at it to keep your lips occupied and to hide the way your teeth grit at the underlying accusation. “That takes a lot of patience. Some people struggle with that.”

He caught your drift and it appeared he realized he deserved that. “And you? Seeing anyone?”

“No.”

“Not even casually?”

“No. Some dates here and there, but they never stick.”

“Why is that?”

“Either they’re boring, too intimidated by a strong female corporate supplicant, or I’m the problem.”

“Isn’t it -” he began but stopped himself. “Never mind.”

“Say what you mean,” you pushed light heartedly.

“Isn’t it lonely?”

It’s true that it seemed like Cupid made his way around your friend group and you were the last to get hit. When your friends came home at night, they’d be welcomed into open arms and warm bodies. You came home to snacks and warmth was in the form of a fuzzy blanket you kept on the couch. At the height of your career, you once believed that love could wait, that it would find you at the right time and you’d know right then you were ready. As Minho sat across from you picking your brain about the emptiness that came with climbing the corporate ladder, the fear of feeling incomplete was imminent.

You wouldn’t let him see that part of you.

“I like my alone time.”

“But you have so much love in your heart.” He cleared his throat, regretting the arrangement of those words when he saw how your face twisted. What would he know about what’s in your heart? “Who do you give your affections to?”

“Must it be romantic?” you retorted. “My love is given to those you saw on my birthday.”

“I guess not. You’ve always been a romantic, though.”

“Five years is more than enough time to change who I was the last time you saw me.”

“Is that change good?” he asked nervously.

‘Is the result of feeling loveless from rejection and isolation a good change? Are you an idiot?’ you wanted to ask. But that would put the blame on him and blaming him meant acknowledging how much he affected you after all these years.

“Is that change good,” you repeated thoughtfully. “Neutral.”

“Neutral?”

“I think the decision we made five years ago put us where we are today; we’re both successful young adults thriving in a beautiful city. But I lost you as a result. So, the good must come with some bad. That’s neutral, no?”

His lips formed a smile, but again, it did not travel to his eyes. “You know, I was scared to come here today.”

“I’m not that terrifying, am I?”

“At first I thought, ‘wow, Chaeryoung did not try hard to pretend to be you at all.’”

You giggled. “No; no, she didn’t.”

“And then I thought, ‘we’ll be in public. She won’t kill me in front of people, right?’”

“Kill you!”

“But I know that wouldn’t have stopped you either way,” he grinned. “You haven’t killed me yet. Is it crazy of me to think of this as a good sign?”

“A sign! Is there something you’re looking to gain out of this meeting?” you teased.

“Yes,” he admitted, “a friend.”

Your mouth hung open slightly, unsure of what to say, but your face twisted in a way that mimicked your thoughts. “A friend?”

“I know you and I have said and done some unkind things back then that we may not be able to forgive each other for, but after seeing you on your birthday, I couldn’t stop thinking of you. You may not believe me, but I miss you.”

Your head and your heart were in conflict. You had spent all this time trying not to miss him. Your mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, unwilling to say the truth. “I… I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t be. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you all of a sudden. But… do you think it’s possible? That we could be friends again?”

How quickly would you lose him a second time? “I think we shouldn’t force it.”

“Friendships bloom naturally, of course.”

A flash of pink blurred your peripherals before it became the center of your attention. Karina held a finger to her lips as she approached Minho from behind, covering his eyes with her slender fingers. He took her hand and kissed it, leaning back to look at his glittering diamond with hearts in his eyes. They were a beautiful couple and it was as clear as day how much they adored each other. Witnessing love was supposed to be like looking at a garden of roses, but as you sat across in a front-row seat, you thought to yourself how much you disliked the smell of roses, anyway.

“Hi!” she greeted happily. “Sorry to interrupt, but we have lunch plans.”

You shook your head, dismissing the tightness in your gut. “No, please interrupt. I’m sorry for keeping him.”

“Would you like to join?”

You would rather jump off the roof of your fifty-floor office building. “Thank you, but I made plans with my co-workers already.”

“Then, we’ll have to get dinner some time!”

It pained you how much you disliked her. She didn’t deserve it. “Dinner some time sounds great.”

As Minho got up to leave, he leaned over the table and in a hushed tone said, “I just want you to know that you still cannot hide your feelings on your face.”

“My boss thinks it’s my killing charm.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Minho’s wink was like a button that set off every alarm in your body. As he walked away, hand-in-hand with the love of his life, you tortured yourself watching them recede until they rounded the corner.

–

Unfortunately, it was common workplace etiquette to have drinks with your coworkers after hours now that your schedules had slowed down. How convenient it was that ‘DAHLIA’ was open and even more so that your coworkers were eager to go. Initially, you tried to wiggle out of going, but your close comrade Choi San wouldn’t allow it.

He slammed his veiny hand on your desk, and you jumped. “Jesus -”

“_____ _____,” he boomed, loudly announcing your government name.

“No.”

“Come on! You haven’t joined us in, like, forever!”

“Forever will continue.”

“And if I bribe you with free drinks?”

You paused typing. “I’m listening.”

“You, me, and the forty-fifth floor at ‘DAHLIA’ in ten minutes.”

“‘DAHLIA’?” you repeated. “Does it have to be that bar?”

“Mingi already called the place to reserve. Why, is it not good?”

“No, quite the opposite.”

“Then make haste, my lady!”

The whole way across the street, San had his arm around your shoulder in a tight grip, too afraid to let you slip at the slightest chance of hesitancy. The smooth skin of his forearms touched your neck and it was close enough to smell the cologne he dabbed just minutes before leaving the building, which you now realized to be on purpose.

Inside, a bunch of young corporate acolytes gathered all throughout the bar, all of whom you worked and were familiar with. Minho, though busy taking their orders, saw you and San come in. He did a double take, eyebrow twitching upwards at the arm suffocating your neck. Your lips formed the words, ‘kill me’, as San guided you forward to the line to order.

Small talk with San was never small when he easily filled you in on his latest interests and hobbies. The other women in the office who were nearby engaged with him enthusiastically. Admittedly, there were a multitude of reasons why San was popular around the office. He was intelligent, always willing to lend a helping hand, had a positive attitude even when days were long and tough, and most importantly, he was so hot that your boss had to jokingly warn him several times to tone it down. His argument was it wasn’t his fault that button-downs were tight on his back and arms.

Minho was the one to usher you forward with his index and middle fingers. 

San wrapped his arm around your shoulder again for no apparent reason. “Hello!” he greeted enthusiastically.

“Hi. _____,” he addressed to you informally.

“‘Sup, Minho,” you sighed.

“You two know each other?” San inquired. “Is that why you didn’t want to come?”

San’s only flaw was that he talked too much. Your jaw ticked. “Old friends. And no, that’s not why.”

“Oh!”

“What can I get you two?” You thought you heard ice in Minho’s voice, but you must be mistaken.

You needed something strong. “A negroni, please.”

“Double that,” San said.

Minho neither confirmed nor denied hearing the order before starting on it. Finally, you’re able to breathe easier when the weight of San’s muscly arm lets you go, confident that you wouldn’t book it out the bar. He instead turned his body to you, creating a wall and making you feel like you were under a microscope.

“Your presentation to the team yesterday was, um, amazing,” he stuttered.

Calling a weekly work presentation amazing was odd; he’s heard you lead them probably a hundred times by now. “Yeah? Thanks.”

“And the way you were able to answer all of the questions Boss Man fired at you? It’s no wonder you’re his favorite.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m his favorite.”

“Well, you’re my favorite.” As soon as those words left his lips, he pursed them together and shut his eyes. “I-I mean the team’s favorite.”

You nearly snorted, though your smile was hard to hide. “That’s… certainly an honor -”

“Two negronis,” Minho interrupted as he pushed the glasses forward.

“I got it,” San reiterated.

“Thanks. I’ll get the next one. I’ll meet you over in a bit; gonna talk to my good ol’ friend here,” you forced a grin. Like an obedient dog, San joined the others at the reserved tables.

“Wow, he’s…” Minho trailed off. “A lot.”

“Mother always said not to say mean things.”

“That was me being nice. Don’t tell me that’s your type.”

“Minho! That would be highly inappropriate workplace behavior,” you teased, though he didn’t seem amused. “Besides, what do you know about my type?”

He smirked. “I think I would know better than anyone.”

The twinge in your chest was crushing. Had Cupid returned with sturdier arrows? “Remember, things can change.”

“Did they, though?”

Why did that matter? “I’ll see you later, Minho.”

The whole night, San hovered over you like a shadow, more than he ever had before. Maybe he saw Minho as competition after your coworkers prodded for the story behind you and the hot bartender. He wouldn’t have to worry, though, as he was highly mistaken about both Minho and having interest in someone you worked with.

You would thank San in the morning for dragging you out that night because he reminded you the importance of camaraderie. It was nice to be surrounded by people who shared the same professional struggles as you and it was freeing for everyone to let their walls down. Many of your co-workers were also single and struggling, filling the bar with chatter about failed dates and competing to see who had the worst one as of late. This was the first night in a long while that you had fun, and even though the man that haunted your thoughts was less than twenty feet away, you wouldn’t let him ruin this one night out of many.

But you felt it; that burn in the back of your head like twin cigarettes had bore themselves into your skull; the piercing eyes of an onlooker who couldn’t look away from you and the buff man next to you all night. Each time you tried to catch him in the act, he had anticipated it, busying himself with a customer or peeling orange twists, and when you looked away, you’d feel it again.

Like a worm eating its way through an apple, the fire in Minho’s eyes consumed you.

–

‘Wya?’

On a random weeknight, Minho texted you this just as you were leaving the office. You looked around outside looking for a sniper or an inconspicuous spy but did not see anything suspicious or sensed any danger. To that, you replied with, ‘Leaving the office. Why?’

‘Don’t move.’

If you weren’t panicking before, you were now. Then, from around the alley where ‘DAHLIA’ was, Minho popped up with a tote bag on his arm and an apron slung over his shoulder. He waved and flashed his feline smile, unaware of how cryptic his texts were.

“You didn’t literally have to not move,” he teased.

“Maybe you should normalize giving context.”

“Context is: do you have dinner plans tonight?”

Your plan was to pick up grocery store sushi and binge watch TV, if you’d call that a plan. “Not really. Why?”

He gestured to his tote bag. “I was going to my test kitchen. Do you want to be my guinea pig?”

You considered saying no, but free food was involved. Plus, this is what friends would do, right? “Where’s this test kitchen of yours?”

“In my townhome. ‘Test kitchen’ just sounds cooler.”

The train ride to Minho’s place was the same distance as yours, just in the opposite direction. There wasn’t a ‘nice’ or a ‘bad’ side of the city, but you definitely wouldn’t classify this as the ‘bad’ side. Rows and rows of townhomes occupied endless streets in this neighborhood and each one had its own charm. Minho’s was right in the middle and the reddest, brickiest one on the block while the others had conformed to a more modern grey stucco-style.

The inside was anything but traditional though, with touches of modern style and technology. The first floor was similar to your loft, with an open floor plan combining the kitchen and living room meant for a true host and entertainer. The kitchen, of course, was the most updated, with a fancy six-burner stove, a magnetic display of different knives, and a giant white-granite island.

Soonie, Doongie, and Dori greeted Minho first by rubbing up against his calves and then greeted you second, unaware of the time that passed and recognizing your scent like you were only gone on a short trip.

You gasped happily, scratching their little heads and ears. “My fat ‘n furry step-children!”

“Looks like they missed you,” Minho chuckled.

“Oh, I missed you, too!” you cooed. “Can I help with any prep?”

“Can you help wash the produce?”

“Yes, chef.”

You tried not to stare too long at Minho while he tied the apron around his waist and rolled up his sleeves. There were vegetables in his tote bag you’ve never seen before, like the bulbous onion-like thing that smelled of licorice and a variation of a mushroom that looked like it would turn you into a zombie.

“Everything’s a vegetable or a fruit,” you noted.

“I’m attempting some vegetarian and vegan options outside of a salad and some dessert. If it doesn’t work out, the Thai place down the street is really good.”

Minho instructed you to cut vegetables in ways that you didn’t even know had a name to the technique. You had to tell him to talk to you like a five-year-old because you were not someone who knew what it meant to julienne a carrot or prepare the mise en place.

The first dish was a seared cabbage wedge. Cut the head into wedges; sear on the pan; make a soy-sugar-rice-vinegar saucy thing; shave a potato and toast it like a breadcrumb; retrieve the soy-and-smoke-cured egg yolk and… shave it?

“What do you mean ‘shave it’?” you muttered, holding the hardened yellow orb of congealed something in one hand and a sharp sword-like thingamabob in the other. “Isn’t it going to burst?”

Minho, bless his heart, stood behind you and guided your hands together. His hands, despite going through hundreds of washes and touching all things hot and cold, were soft and warm on top of yours. He had you shave one quarter of the solid egg yolk over the dressed cabbage wedge.

“The yolk is cured, so it’s solid all the way through,” he said.

His breath tickled the shell of your ear and it turned hot. Was the oven set to a thousand degrees? “O-Oh! Wow, that’s cool. Is it done?”

It was only then that Minho released his hold. “Yup. Try it.”

Cooking was a hidden form of sorcery. It was one of the most complex and delicious dishes you’ve ever eaten. Salty from the potato breadcrumb, savory from the egg yolk, and sweet from the soy sauce, feeling different textures and flavors so good you had to stop yourself from moaning.

“Good?” he asked. All you could do was nod vigorously with eyes wide and glittering. He smiled genuinely and his eyes sparkled, too. He opened his mouth and said, “Ah~”

That was your cue to feed him a bite. You gathered the perfect amount of everything onto a fork for him. As he chewed, his brows knitted together thoughtfully and you’re unsure of what that expression meant. From his pocket, he took out a small field notes book and scribbled something quickly.

“You don’t like it?”

He shook his head. “No, I like it a lot.”

“Why is your face like that?”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

“You look so angry.”

“That’s just how my face looks.”

Next was a vegetarian bone marrow. Nothing about bones or marrows sounded remotely vegetarian, but Minho handed you two fat king oyster mushrooms to halve and remove the centers while he sautéed a medley of other mushrooms in salted butter, garlic, and thyme. There was a comfortable silence in the kitchen as you both worked. Nothing felt awkward, or forced, or as bitter as your last meetings were.

As you waited for Minho’s further instructions, you toured the living space and observed all the pictures. You were in about half of them. Most were of your entire friend group, but many were significant moments in your lives, like graduation, birthdays, talent shows, or candid solo pictures. After all these years, when you kept any evidence of him hidden in a shoe box in your closet, he displayed you loud and proud. You glossed over the number of pictures of Karina for your own sake but seeing her face that many times made you stop looking.

When you turned back, Minho was staring at you so intently, he forgot to pretend he wasn’t watching.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he cleared his throat. “Um, the next step is ready.”

Under an immersive blender (“Immersion blender, silly.”) was the sautéed medley and the guts of the king oyster mushroom, softened cream cheese, and olive oil. The paste was bagged and piped back into the charred and seasoned center of the cut-out king oyster mushroom. With a flame torch, Minho darkened the paste, creating a bruleed outer layer, and topped it off with pink peppercorns, pecorino, and chives. Triangles of buttered toast were the vehicle.

Minho took a spoon and scooped out the center. “A little bit of ‘marrow’ and voila. And the ‘bone’ is edible, too, obviously.”

Your eyes teared up at the fireworks of umami. “Will you cater for my next birthday?”

“For you, I will.”

After course upon course of seared and leafy bites of savory and salty goodness, you greenlit practically all of them to Minho’s dismay (“Guinea pig means to critique, not suck up to.”). Dessert was the final leg of courses. From preserved lemon sorbets to chocolatey bites of flourless cake, you would fall into a deep sleep tonight on a cloud of spun sugar.

“I’m drunk on life,” you sighed happily.

“I like you best that way.”

“Seriously, Minho, you have something really good here. I’m no expert, but I think –”

“Wait!” he interrupted. “Chocolate on your lip.”

“Huh? Here?” you licked once.

“Not even close.”

“Here?”

“No.”

“Where’s a napkin?”

“Hold still, will you?”

Minho held your chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted up. Like a surgeon, he meticulously wiped away all evidence of your inner chocolate-devouring goblin with his other thumb. For a moment, he lowered his hand to wipe it on his apron, but he caught you looking at his lips.

“Th-Thanks,” you whispered.

He took the chocolate-covered thumb and sucked it clean, maintaining his gaze before it lowered. “My pleasure.”

The kitchen felt hot and it was hard to breathe. The alarms in your head went off again; the longer you stayed, the faster you’d fall. “I-I should go.”

“Wait –”

“This was great by the way!” you called as you backed up towards the door. “S-So good! And thank you, I will pay you back for any groceries!”

“That’s not necessary, I invited you here.”

“Let me know what you decide to add to the menu, and I’ll-I’ll stop by some time, yeah?”

You didn’t give him the opportunity to answer before running out the door.

–

The following weeks after your inappropriately intimate tasting, you avoided Minho as long as you could. It hadn’t even been a month since you saw him for the first time and you already crossed the thin line that was never meant to be crossed. You couldn’t even be strong for that long before you fell back into the routine of desiring the one man you weren’t allowed to have.

This was the curse of Cupid. He had successfully shot and landed an arrow into every friend you loved, pairing them up with their person and the match-up was so right it was scary. Somehow, at the perfect time under the correct circumstances, your friends found the ones that completed their other half, or so they said, and you witnessed love in full bloom every time it happened and everyday since. When it was shoved in your face like that, how could you not think about what you were missing out on every single day of your life?

You used to think considering a couple as two halves was a disservice to humanity. Halves implied that part of you was missing; it suggested that one could never be whole alone, that they spend their whole lives finding someone who fit the two-piece puzzle. A two piece puzzle was supposed to be the easiest puzzle in the world, but in a box filled with over eight billion pieces, it would take forever for Cupid to pair the pieces. At twenty-five, after that stormy night, you once believed that you could survive as one single piece among the eight billion for the rest of your life at the bottom of the pieces pile, if it came to it; but now that you’re the last of the friend group to yet find your match - at thirty, at that - maybe Cupid had a point to the whole two halves make a whole argument.

Because admittedly, as much as you tried to convince yourself on your thirtieth birthday, you didn’t feel whole. Hell, you barely felt like half; and every time you saw Minho, bits of you were being chipped off to the point that you were scared of losing your half of the puzzle.

To distract yourself from thinking about Minho licking chocolate from your lips, you finally jumped the gun and downloaded dating apps for the first time. Well, Chaeryoung and Jisung did.

“Put on your bathing suit,” she ordered.

“Excuse you.”

“What? All your selfies are so normal!”

“Normal is a good thing, Chaer.”

“But it’s not,” Jisung piped in. “Dating is not what it used to be. Before, it was as simple as looking pretty, saying your favorite song or movie, and naming the restaurant you want your first date to be at. Now, you have to get personal. Name a niche hobby, what character from a TV show represents you the most, what childhood trauma affected your frontal lobe development -”

“Ok, I get it.”

Jisung and Chaeryoung sandwiched you tightly on the couch even though the view of the tablet was easily seen. Chaeryoung filled in all the prompts for you a little too enthusiastically while Jisung was there to judge through the lens of the male gaze and snacks.

The woman beside you cackled evilly. “This is so much fun! I can’t believe you’re finally doing this. Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment?”

“Seriously. What man made you do this?” Jisung teased.

You yanked the tablet back. “No one.”

“Liar.”

“Who do you think, Han?” Chaeryoung stated bluntly. “Who else could have brought this blessing upon us?”

“Oh,” he mused, “duh.”

“Shut up, both of you! No one made me do this. Am I not worthy of finding love?”

“Of course you are. Just not this way.”

“Why not this way?”

“Just watch.”

The second someone completes their profile, it’s like the app forces it at the top of everyone’s algorithm. You received a lot of interest and private messages in the first five minutes, many of which were… bold…

“Men are so uncouth,” you groaned. “Is sex all you think about?”

“Yeah,” Jisung shrugged, pointing to his head and then his groin. “Two heads, two brains.”

“Ugh, gross.”

Chaeryoung swiped left at lightning speed. “Too young, too old, too short, too tall, too smart –”

“I like smart,” you pouted.

“The key to a healthy relationship is to be smarter than them.” Jisung didn’t argue, as he was happily committed to his intelligent partner (a mystery to all, as no one knew how he bagged a research fellow).

There’s a knock on your door. The three of you look at each other in confusion.

“You two need to stop secretly inviting strange men to my home,” you accused before getting up.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Jisung defended, “did you?” Chaeryoung denied.

When you opened the door, a disheveled Minho stood there with an oily bag in his hands. He raised a brow. “Am I that strange?”

Just as you were trying to trust in the dating app algorithm, the Gods and Cupid said, ‘let there be chaos!’ “You, specifically? A little bit.”

“Ha ha,” he drawled. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Yeah!” Jisung called from the couch. “This is girl time, Min!”

“Shut up!” Chaeryoung pulled Jisung up from the couch and they both patted your head before rushing out the door. “We’ll see you later, _____!”

“Y-You don’t have to leave!” you practically begged.

“Honey, it’s past-nine on a weekday, yes we do!”

“I didn’t realize the time,” Minho frowned, looking at his watch. “I was nearby with Hyunjin and thought I’d stop by with some fries to make up for Chaeryoung tossing them out on your birthday.”

You don’t even remember that happening. “That’s so nice of you.”

“I can come back another time.”

“No!” you said an octave too high. “No, please come in!”

Minho’s outfit was more casual than ‘DAHLIA’s typical button down and tight slacks and you deduced he was working at ‘RED LIGHT’ today. There were multiple oil and/or beer stains on his shirt and his hair was parted and pointing in different directions, evidence of his hand having to go through it several dozen times out of stress.

“You look…”

“I know,” he sighed, plopping the bag on the table. “There was a work-lunch event today that turned into dinner for some corporate slugs. Then, Hyunjin was looking at a location for his coffee excursion and asked for my help. Four hours later, I’m starving and thought of you.”

He was thinking of you a lot lately, it seemed, and it was hard to deny that you reciprocated. “This is wonderful, thank you. I owe you two dinners now.”

“You don’t ‘owe’ me anything. Friends don’t owe; they treat.”

“My treat next time, then.”

“And the next,” he reminded with a smirk. “What were you girlies doing just now?”

“Um,” you hesitated, cheeks stuffed with potato. “Making me a dating profile.”

He raised a brow in the same way when he saw you walking in with San: questioning and dissatisfied. “You never had one before?”

“I was on-and-off when I first moved here, but I couldn’t stand to open the apps after a couple days of usage.”

He does the thing with his fingers when he gestures to come close. You noticed his hands were veinier now than when you were younger.

“Let me see.”

“Let you see my dating profile?” He nodded. “Absolutely not.”

“C’mon, I’ll give you an opinion through the male gaze.”

“Why do you think Jisung was here?”

“Certainly not that.”

Defeated, you handed him your phone with the app open. There’s a twinkle of curiosity wondering how he’d react, but you wanted to tame that fire quickly. He scrolled and swiped, then scrolled, and scrolled, and scrolled.

His face was stern when he said, “You already have a lot of admirers.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

He didn’t answer and continued to scroll. “What about that guy you work with?”

“San? What about him?”

“Nothing came of it?”

“Didn’t I tell you that would be inappropriate?”

“Is that the only reason stopping you?”

You squint your eyes at your all too curious friend who hadn’t looked up from your phone since taking it. He popped fries in his mouth rhythmically like a metronome until he caught the heat from your gaze. He looked up and did a double take.

“Hm?” he asked.

“Why are you so curious?”

“So, there’s another reason stopping you?”

“And if there is?”

“And if there is…” he repeated, fiddling with your phone charm. “Would you tell me?”

The inkling of assumption tickled annoyingly at the corners of your mind. Was he asking to let you know that he knew he was the reason for your desires? Or was he asking to tease you, to prove to you that if you had made the right decision all those years ago, you could have been in Karina’s position? That all this time you spent away from him, your journey for companionship started too late. And sure, your bank account was as filled as your stomach, but was it worth it when you had no one to share it with?

He waited patiently for your answer, but you heard his foot tapping rapidly on the wood. Your mouth opened, then closed, and you finally shook your head in shame, because your lips were cursed to speak the truth or nothing at all and you would rather deny than to admit.

He licked his lips, and that gesture alone sparked something in your core. Then he nodded in a way that expressed sourness, as if this confirmation was exactly what he expected but not what he was hoping in both the nonverbal response and the underlying tone that trailed behind it.

You broke the silence. “How’s Karina?”

“Good.” He was quick to shake his head. “Actually, I don’t know. I haven’t seen her since lunch a month ago.”

“Why’s that?”

“I’ve… been too busy.”

Shameful and embarrassed, was what you gathered from his response. As he should; to criticize your decision only to repeat the cycle when he found fulfillment in his career was so… Hypocritical was not a strong enough word. Betrayal, perhaps, was the most correct, but that didn’t satisfy you, either.

You wouldn’t get satisfaction from any angle, though. No matter how you viewed it, it was selfish to consider yourself relevant here. Minho was hurting; everything you feared about relationships had flowered before him and crushed the idea that perfection could be achieved as long as both people tried. But it seemed that although he tried, it wasn’t enough, and maybe his ideals were more out of the ordinary than he anticipated.

“It’s put a bit of a strain on our relationship. She wants to settle down and I… I thought I did, too, but… you know, my places have been growing so much, and…”

As he trailed off and off through a list of excuses, it took you all the way back to the night that it rained. You also spat excuses from your pockets and got nowhere. Now, Minho was on your side, but it didn’t feel great, either.

“What’s more important to you?” you asked.

That was the age-old dilemma, wasn’t it? What was most important to someone as an adult who spent most of their life getting educated and preparing for the professional world to milk money from consumers; the career they adored and earned or the love they found along the way? One could argue they could live without love, but could one live with themselves if they gave up their dream? How many rom-coms have you and Minho laughed at where the world that movie was set in was in a vacuum and the couple always chose each other? Though the plot was fake, the dilemma was real, and the choices they made in the movies were just not realistic.

“Important,” he chuckled, understanding what you were getting at. “Why can’t both be important to me?”

“They can, but it’s clear your efforts are imbalanced in one direction. Otherwise, we would not be having this conversation.”

The fries were long gone. Minho stood up and tossed the bag in the trash before grabbing the unfinished bottle of wine leftover from your birthday and two glasses. You supposed tonight would be the most appropriate night to finish it off. Plus, Minho needed it, apparently.

“I tried, you know,” he sighed, “I really did. I text every night; I send her flowers to her office; I cook for her, shower her with gifts, and tell her regularly that I-I…”

Minho didn’t complete his thought, but you knew what he meant to say. Why would he not, for your sake? “That you love her?”

“Yeah. That I loved her.” Your glasses raised in sync. “I get it. I’m not as present, and I get her love language is quality time, but when did the thought stop counting?”

“Have you considered you two aren’t compatible?”

“Anyone can be compatible, no? Where’s the effort?”

Now you were feeling annoyed. Were these digs subconsciously at you? “Effort can only go so far. You said her love language is quality time. You could do everything in between, but you’re not there to hold her, to kiss her, to tangle under the bed sheets as much as she wants, then guess what? She’s never going to feel the love that she wants and deserves.”

“What about me? What about what I want?”

“I don’t know what you want. Does she? Do you?”

Minho chugged the rest of the cabernet in his glass, nose wrinkling, before pouring in more with a heavy hand. You ignored how cute his nose looked. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Ok, so you can’t complain is what I’m hearing.”

A chuckle huffed through his nose, annoyed that someone who he confided in didn’t feed into his fantasy that his ideology was gospel.

“Ahh!” he groaned loudly to the ceiling. “Fucking hell. I thought this was supposed to get easier when we were older?”

“What? Love?” you scoffed. “Look at us; I’m stuck on the apps and you’re stuck in your ways. You think this gets easier just because we have more ‘life experience’?” Your air quotes were overly exaggerated. “No, dude. People are dumb at every age.”

“I’m not dumb,” he pouted.

“You’re a little dumb.”

He giggled a bit and it traveled down his belly to a full laugh. You couldn’t help but smile, too, which grew into your own fit of laughs, and the condo was filled with ugly laughs and tears of joy, pain, and all that was locked inside your’s and Minho’s souls since inception. These nights were the ones you once looked forward to.

When the giggles died down, he stared blankly at the swirling wine in the glass and asked, “Do you think we could have worked out?”

You felt your cheeks and nose flare brightly. “Worked out? Like if we tried?”

In some other tangential timeline, Minho moved to the city. Maybe he still bought out ‘RED LIGHT’, and you would visit him everyday after work and bring your coworkers in to show off your hot bartender boyfriend. Then, you’d take the train home together. You’d wind down on the couch watching a couple episodes of something light and crawl into bed in each other’s arms. Your lips would never leave his unless it was to come up for air, arms wrapped around his naked torso as he crawled on top, and mumbling praises and poems of how much you adored him.

Like an asteroid that orbits a planet, you revolve your life around him and his happiness. If you tried long distance or if you gave up your career, it would be a difficult feat, and happiness would not be found in that desert. Leaving for the city was for the best. He eventually found his oasis, and you were still on the long journey of finding yours in between the infinite dunes.

Before you realized, your nose burned some more and your vision blurred. “I think it still would have been really hard.”

“Would it have been worth it?”

“I think…” you hesitated, but the wine in your veins was overtaking, “it would only have been worth it if it was with you.”

“Then, why?” he begged. “What happened to ‘it’s better to have loved and lost’?”

“After all this time, you still can’t see what I see. I never want to risk something where I would lose you. So, I didn’t think I’d lose you if I said no.”

“This is… so stupid…”

“Don’t insult me in my home.”

“No, I… I…” he stuttered, and it’s just now you see his eyes were glossy, too. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and it’s so fucking stupid.”

It was stupid; you moved out to move on, and here he was at your door bringing you french fries and opening bars across from where you work, invading your life like a decade-old infectious disease with no ailment known to man-kind. It was stupid; he was taken, spitting out confessions of his failing love story to the one he ended, telling you he still thinks of you before he sleeps. It was very stupid, and it pained you not to fall for it.

You shook your head. “Don’t.”

“______ -”

“You can’t think of me.”

He reached out across the table to take your hands. You allowed it, because you were a weak, weak woman, starving for touch and hungry for him. His skin was rough and tired from the dehydrating soaps of the service industry, but they felt so right.

“Tell me you don’t think of me,” he demanded. “Tell me, and I’ll leave.”

“What does it mean for you to leave? You will leave my home, and then what? Will you try to be better for her? You’ll stay in my life and we can be friends? Or will you leave permanently and change the dynamic of our friend group forever for the second time?” By now, the tears were falling and words choked as they came out, but your grip on him betrayed you and you held on like he was hanging off a cliff.

“I… The… The former…”

“Then, no. No, I don’t think of you. I’m not tormented by you, I’m not in ruins when I see you, I don’t smell you on my clothes, I don’t see you when I close my eyes, or in stranger’s faces when they pass, I don’t dream of you, and I definitely don’t think of you every second of everyday!”

“You can’t even convince yourself anymore. Why won’t you be vulnerable with me?”

“Vulnerability is weakness, Minho! I have been strong for so long; without you, at that!” your voice was shrill and loud and you couldn't be bothered to sit. You were up from your chair, leaning over the table, and he winced as you kept going. “You come here, turn my life upside down, and ask me to be vulnerable? To lower my guard around you? After you abandoned me all because the circumstances weren’t right at that moment? Fuck you.”

He got up from the table to get to you and towered over you, torso much wider than you remembered. He was too close, and you could feel him feel you. Your body hadn’t turned to face him, too scared to face your biggest fear, so he forced it upon you by holding your shoulders. His eyes, so big and brown that it was easy to drown in them, dug deep into yours and pleaded with everything he had in his heart.

“Fine, don’t be vulnerable, but show yourself some mercy, for fuck’s sake.”

“Mercy? I want someone I can’t have. How does that merit mercy?”

He faltered a bit and you regretted the moment you invited him in. His eyebrows furrowed in what you thought was pity. Your head dropped in shame; that was the last thing you needed. His hands moved to hold your face as if he never wanted you to drop something so precious to him ever again.

“Don’t,” you repeated.

His forehead connected with yours and suddenly, you felt young again. It’s what you needed, what you wanted, but…

“I want to kiss you.”

The rush from five years ago hit you like a truck. “I want to kiss you, too.”

Every emotion, every desire, collided into the kiss. His hands swiftly moved to your waist and pulled you in until every millimeter of you touched some part of him and soon your hands were lost in his hair. His lips were soft, and you always imagined them to feel like petals of a tulip, but he was earnest and there was some pain in the amount of pressure he pressed into you. The pain felt good, the feeling of being wanted made your heart soar, and you two exchanged gasps and moans as your lips moved fervently, hungry for indulgence after being teased with temptation. But his tongue tasted sour, and bitter, and nothing like the coffee and chocolate you once dreamed of, because this circumstance was yet again not right. He tasted like rotting fruit because stolen fruit was never sweet.

You broke away, gasping and sniffling and it was so hard to breathe. “You’re not mine,” you cried.

“But you have always been mine,” he whispered, with his breath ghosting your lips.

You shook your head, over and over until you freed yourself from his grip, wishing you’d be free of him forever. You turned your back to him, unable to show your face as you said, “I think you should leave.”

Back then, you wished he fought for you as much as he wished you to do the same. You wished he’d followed you, or waited for you until the time was right, but of course time didn’t wait for anyone. Deep down, as you broke into pieces in your dining room, you hoped he’d fight for you then, too, and proclaim that his heart belonged to only you. You were fooled twice, and as the saying goes, shame on you.

The failure of reciprocity would weigh you down just as much. You never fought for him the way you wished he would for you for the simple fact that you weren’t allowed to. He was a taken man, a man who said not too long ago how he told her he loved her every single night, and it would destroy you how he’d go home later and still say those words.

You believed everyone was worthy of love, including you. The love you wanted wasn’t supposed to feel tainted or spoiled. No matter how much you wanted him, how much he claimed he wanted you from the very start, you wouldn’t be that kind of woman who stole someone’s man, and therefore you would not confess to anything else that lay hidden away in your heart.

Minho left quietly. The battle was over, and you broke down on the floor.

Heavy and loud sobs escaped your quivering lips in a poor attempt to dissipate the pain that expanded in your chest. Your cries echoed into the open loft until you couldn’t stand the sound of your voice and wasting tissues, but your body wouldn’t let up. So, you transferred yourself to the bathroom, running a hot shower and curling up on the tile until the water ran cold. Here, your cries were muffled by the artificial rain, just as you had cried into the storm that ugly night long ago.

You called in sick the following day.

–

For the next quarter, you were happy you were swamped with work, for once. That meant waking up early, taking the train when the sun had barely risen, and leaving when it had long gone to sleep. It was the same for most people in the office and you were blessed with not having to conjure up a lie to get away from San’s advances to get you to happy hour.

In sum, you hoped it meant you’d be too busy to think of him, but when you had only a single moment, a single second of freedom, he invaded every bit of you. He was a virus, a parasite, sucking the life out of you like he was reminding you what you desired that once was within arms reach was now lost forever. Like Icarus, you fell from the ether into despair, surrounded by darkness from the absence of the sun in your only moments outside of the office. On days when you were off, you had begged your boss to let you come in, to distract you with some enrichment of any stupid task even if it meant gluing together inadvertently shredded proprietary documents for sixteen hours, but HR would catch on too quickly, was what he said.

You hoped to fall hopelessly in this troposphere of purgatory forever, operating through the days on autopilot, but your heart had sunk to your gut and it ached to land on the earth to end the pain. Just as you were getting the hang of flowing with the wind, Minho called once. Then, he called twice. On the third, you almost answered, but when your eyes welled and you struggled to breathe, you figured it was your body’s reaction to falling faster and further beneath the clouds. You spent those nights he called curled up in some corner of your home under a multitude of blankets waiting for the headache and heartache to subside, but by then the night turned to dawn and time was limited.

Chaeryoung would call, too; she’d text; she’d send you food, coffee, and chocolates, and much of it went cold because any sight of food made you nauseous. Lately, you moved so slow that sustenance wasn’t a necessity anymore, nor was it a pleasure. She was always quite the worrywart, so you tried to answer as much and as vaguely as you could, but at one point it was too exhausting to keep up the lie and you gave up, leaving her with one-worded answers that didn’t satisfy either party.

And so you continued to fall; continued to cry, rot, and falter when all you had done was taste forbidden fruit.

His birthday approached faster than you could get over him.

For a while, no one seemed to mind your absence besides Chaeryoung and Minho, who had called to see if you were attending any of the last-minute get-togethers or planned reservations in the recent month. The one big one you regretted missing was Chan’s birthday, who was rightfully miffed, but you hoped the gift you shipped would make up for it. You kept up with social media, though, and liked all the pictures that came from those nights. 

Each post, you’d look for him. You’d admire what he was wearing; you’d wonder what cologne he was wearing; you’d imagine the way his eyes lit up when Karina walked in the room. But she wasn’t in any of the photos.

You didn’t tell anyone what transpired the second time with Minho. It was too embarrassing to have fallen for him twice, which sent feminism back at least a decade. You were going to conjure up some work-related lie to get out of his birthday celebration, but Chaeryoung wouldn’t allow it and even went as far as messaging San for confirmation about your work schedule.

In a huff, she busted through to your home before you could reject her kindness. Normally, your girl was all smiles and full of expressions, but tonight she was strict and stern, which meant she was mad. Very mad.

“I need you to not message my coworkers, please,” you said as she filtered through your closet. “I don’t want a meeting with HR on Monday.”

She didn’t turn to face you when she snapped, “It felt like you were lying, so I had to double check.”

“I wasn’t lying. It was busy, but we just lightened up after the deadline yesterday.”

“So, why couldn’t you tell me that?”

“I needed an excuse to not go tonight.”

She shook her head, clearly frustrated with how insufferable you were being. She turned to you with glossy eyes and you regretted avoiding her lately. “Aren’t I your friend?”

Her having to ask really stung. “You’re my best friend.”

“Then can’t you tell me why you disappeared for three months?”

“I… it’s hard, Chaer…”

“For God’s sake, _____, you’re thirty. Act like it, and use your words!”

“I can’t,” your voice cracked, “I can’t see Minho.”

Her face softened, realizing maybe that night when she left you with someone you saw as a stranger was not what a best friend did. You watched her scan through your slumped posture and sunken eyes before she lunged and hugged you tightly. Tears burned, the feeling of gentle humanity fulfilling your highest hierarchy of needs overflowing all your emotions.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“We kissed,” you whispered back.

“And?”

“I kissed back.”

“But?”

“He’s not mine.”

She pushed you to arms length, eyes knitting sternly. “I think you should go tonight.”

“Chaer -”

“Trust me. You might regret it. It’s his thirtieth, after all.” She pushed away the hairs that cling to your forehead before running to grab some make up. “Let me do your make-up! It’ll be like your twenty-first all over again.”

She sat you down on your bed and began to dab away at the color-correcting pallet. A box of tissues lay next to her so she could catch the tears before they fell. She created a large pile in the end.

“Do you want him to be yours?” she asked after a long moment of silence.

You wanted to smell him on your clothes, adore him in your dreams, and wake up next to him. You want him to be yours, only yours, and to not have to share him with someone who he also chose. Under this sanguine circumstance, still, you smiled at this very thought, because of course the answer was, “Yes.”

And she, too smiled, her own tears forming while she dabbed yours with another fist full of tissues. “Then, go to him.”

“But -”

“_____,” she breathed sternly, sniffling a bit. “You stupid, stupid people-pleaser. Fight for yourself, for once.”

When you thought the battle was long over, little did you know you were still fighting all this time.

Despite trying not to think of him, as his birthday approached, the calendar terrorized you to get him a gift. Just in case, you know? It was a fancy Nakiri knife whose steel was decorated in waves. The Internet told you that a chef’s knife was similar to that of a samurai’s sword, so only the highest quality of Damascus steel was preferred. As you held the box in your hand at his front steps, your mind and heart kept battling with each other and debated whether or not getting a personal gift was too intimate versus a gift card to some generic restaurant to establish a boundary.

But wasn’t the boundary already too blurry, anyways?

Chaeryoung pushed you inside the already-unlocked door. All the boys and their partners and Chaeryoung’s now-official real man were already there surrounding the island. Minho, who just had a grin on, dropped it quickly upon seeing you come in and straightened his back. It’s like deja vu from your birthday.

Karina wasn't present.

Your body’s instinct was to turn and run out the door, but Chaeryoung anticipated your every move and was quick to block you. She squeezed your hand and tugged you further inside. You greeted the boys and their partners first, who all said a variation of, ‘long time, no see,’ before reaching Minho. His expression was still starstruck and confused. He didn’t appear angry. Perhaps it was a feeling worse than that, which could not be translated through his face.

With sweaty hands, you handed him the small rectangular box. “Happy birthday.”

He was hesitant to take it, as if to question the possibility of diffusion of poison through the skin. His hesitancy allowed you to get a whiff of his bourbon vanilla cologne. “Thank you.”

“Oh, so you’ll come for Minho’s birthday, but not mine?” Chan pouted.

“Some things are worth coming out for,” you retorted.

The night went on and you played your role as an onlooker in the background, hoping to blend in with the walls and remain unnoticed so as to not ruin the night. You watched him and the boys shove each other playfully and inhale any and all food Minho made. Who’s to say that thirty was old when the epitome of youth was in the souls of a group of hungry boys? Conversations and debates picked up from when they last saw each other. Some of them filled you in and others forced you to answer without knowing the majority opinion. Laughs and giggles filled the kitchen and even when it seemed that Minho didn’t want to whenever you answered, he couldn’t help himself from smiling at your ridiculous answers, though he stopped when he’d catch you watching him.

As the clock ticked forward, your anticipation for Karina to pop in at any moment dwindled. Maybe she was also having a rough quarter three and taking a late night at the office, but to miss her boyfriend’s thirtieth was… a choice, even if they were fighting or some other strange reason. But then four hours turned to six hours and then it was, ‘damn, it’s already 2:00 AM?’ and she never came.

“Are you ready to go?” Chaeryoung asked at the front door.

Minho was now alone in the kitchen and there were a lot of dishes left to wash. You should help him.

“No,” you said. “I’ll call you later.”

She had a hard time hiding her grin as she left.

You approached him slowly like how you’d approach an angry cat because he was scrubbing the dishes a little too furiously. He didn’t look up despite knowing what you were up to.

“Can I help?” you asked.

Still, he refused to look at you, but he handed you the sponge. Well, that was progress, right?

Dishes and clean up were completed in silence. No chit-chat, no music, just the sound of running water and dishes clinking in the cupboards. The task was finished in good time, and just before you decided that your stay was long overdue, he pulled another deja vu card.

“What are you doing here?” he mumbled to the floor.

“It’s your thirtieth birthday. Chaeryoung told me to come.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“I could’ve.”

A salty laugh - or perhaps a scoff - was uttered. He was tired, you were tired, and the air was cold and stale. The topics orbited like a satellite, coming ‘round for another turn for a different thirtieth celebration, if either of you would even call it that.

Minho let out a big sigh. “Only you can disappear for three months and come back into open arms.”

The words arranged sounded like a compliment, but it was clearly the opposite. “I don’t expect to be forgiven.”

“No, you shouldn’t. I tried calling you.”

“I know.”

“Texting. E-mailing. Fuck, even snail mailing!”

“I know…”

He threw his hands in the air, as he did whenever he was frustrated, and turned to take a breather from your nonchalance. You were supposed to be fighting for him, not letting him slip away like this, but why was this so hard when loving him came easily?

“I shouldn’t have come over that night,” he said after returning. “I was trying too hard to be friends again and I crossed a point where I couldn’t return from.”

“Isn’t that the story of our friendship?”

“Is that how you feel?”

“We were never really just friends, were we?” you teased.

“No,” he admitted softly, “we never were.”

Your eyes met for the first time that night. His were red and puffy, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in three months.

You swallowed the rock in your throat. “Where’s Karina?”

“I don’t know. I broke up with her a while ago.”

Your chest felt tight and your voice bubbled out a garbled, “Why?”

And his mirrored, to the point where he had to clear his throat. “I don’t love her anymore.”

“So, is it true? Is it better to have loved and lost?”

“I wouldn’t exchange my days with her for anything.”

It didn’t make sense; it just didn’t. When someone loved that deeply, how could they throw that person away so easily?

“I’m sorry,” was all you could say.

“I’m not.” He cleared his throat. “I loved her and she loved me. It was fulfilling, and now it’s not. It’s just how it is.”

“Isn’t that painful?”

“If it means I get to feel like I’m flying, I think I can handle it.”

The concept, the idea of that, was just too hard to grasp. It took your wax wings melting to realize that the journey upwards was worth the descent.

“Enough about my failures,” he said hoarsely, “What about you? How… how are you doing?”

How were you supposed to admit that tonight was the first night you had a proper meal? That sleep only came under the influence of some generic-brand silver liquor? That you plucked a fist full of grey hairs the day before? Would admitting to vulnerability prove that you were fighting for this? For him? Or would it make you look pathetic?

“I’ve been doing fine.”

The centers of his brows scrunched together and his lips pursed. He inhaled heavily, his sniffles echoing through his quiet home.

“Are you?” he stuttered, voice distorted and desperate. “Really?”

No, of course not, and that much was clear when you started to cry.

“Because,” he continued, “if you can’t tell, I’m… dying on the inside.”

“Because of me?” you whispered, feeling the weight of your actions collapsing.

“Because of you. It’s always because of you. Everyday for the past ten years. It’s always been you.”

“Why couldn’t you forget me? Why? When you were the one to throw me away?”

“How!” he cried out. “How could I forget about you, when all I wanted was you?”

“You wanted to change me! You wanted me to abandon my career.” “I wanted you to try!”

“And you were right!” Sobs choked in your chest. “You were right. If I loved you, I should have fought for you. I should have tried harder. And I really shouldn’t have admitted those feelings to you when you were not mine. For everything that I’ve done, I’m so, so sorry.”

“You should be. You are so mean,” he hissed, pointing harshly. “You torture me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Even when I close my eyes, I see you.”

“I’m sorry -”

“I named my fucking bar after your favorite flower! And now you stand here in my home asking me to forget about you? How am I supposed to even begin doing that, hm? How, when everything around me reminds me of you?”

Your sobs were visceral and messy, and you buried your face in your hands. Maybe tears held the youth Ponce de Leon searched his whole life for the way yours could fill the fountain in minutes and how wiping them took away two decades of your life.

“I’m going to ask you once more,” he whispered. “One last time, and I’ll leave it be forever because I’m fucking tired. Do you think of me as often as I think of you?”

You caved in when all else went wrong and there was nothing else to hide. “Everyday.”

“Do you want me as much as I want you?”

“No,” you replied, “Because I need you. Now, let me ask you: do you want to kiss me as much as I want to kiss you?”

His lips quivered before he laughed and you do, too, because that was the cringiest thing you’ve ever said. He held your face, that precious face of yours that he adored so much, dabbing away your tears. His eyes fluttered to your lips, a habit he couldn’t shake off after all these years.

“I need you to kiss me,” he demanded.

He tasted like honey and his lips fit yours like the second half of a two-piece puzzle. This was slow and deliberate, no longer going at the crushing speed of fervent passion because you had all the time in the world together now, and Minho was always the type of man to take his time. You couldn’t stand to leave his lips even for air and they ghosted his only for a few seconds before you tip-toed and pressed yourself deeper against him. Your hands were occupied with gripping his shirt at his waist to keep him in place. When you felt his smile on your lips, you grinned back and held him by his beautiful face.

“I need you to stay,” he formed on your lips.

“All I need is you,” you answered.

Even while traveling to his bedroom, both of you refused to separate as you bumped into furniture.

“We should take this slow,” he mumbled, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.

“Get acquainted with each other, or whatever,” you concurred after removing his belt.

“Maybe get coffee some time?” he asked into the crook of your neck.

“Or a drink? I know this really cute bar called ‘DAHLIA’.”

He threw you onto his bed. After removing his shirt, he crawled on top. “I think I’ve heard it.”

“Oh yeah?” You undid his pants zipper. “I know the bartender. A little narcissistic, though; he thinks he’s so hot.”

He trailed kisses down your lips, to your neck, to your sternum, to your stomach, until the top of your panties where his fingers hooked. “I know he is.”

You called Chaeryoung the next afternoon. At first, she scolded you for not texting her when you got home, but when she checked your location during the call, she screamed so loud that Minho dropped the spatula while making your breakfast.

The sanguine satellite would continue to orbit her world and revolve her life around his happiness; and he would continue to do the same.

#lee minho #lee minho imagines #skz #stray kids #stray kids fic #stray kids imagines #lee know fic #lee know x reader #romance #friends-to-strangers-to-lovers #angst #emotional hurt with comfort #a doozy................. my longest one yet me thinks #nawt to bring in one piece but the way i screamed TAKT looking at that minho pic yeah

[ambrozjas]

Could you do a song-fic with Sodapop Curtis w/ the song "Stupid Cupid" by Connie Francis? Love your writing, take your time 💕

stupid cupid ꨄ︎

sodapop curtis x fem!reader

✧˖*°࿐ notes 🧸ᰔᩚ

THIS WAS SITTING IN MY INBOX FOR SO LONG BUT I LITERALLY LOCKED IN FOR THIS FIC ITS SO CUTE I SWEAR JUST READ ITTT

✧˖*°࿐ warnings ᰔᩚ

reader is referred to as a girl and a lady, reader is called gorgeous and beautiful, beginning of this fic has soda in highschool so it takes place before the outsiders

✧˖*°࿐ word count ᰔᩚ

1609 words, 8588 characters

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

stupid cupid, you’re a real mean guy

i’d like to clip your wings so you can’t fly

it felt like the roman god of love had shot sodapop right through the heart, and boy did soda hate it. that’s all that he thought while he gazed at you, chin held in palm as he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. when the school air had a chokehold on everybody, it left out you. you looked absolutely divine. soda wondered if the gods, if there were any or it was just some stories made up to fill the minds of lovesick kids like himself, favored you. because as he looked at you, the sun just seemed to reflect off you just right, to where it coated the side of your face with a honey orange. you looked like an angel sent on earth, disguised as a teenager in soda’s highschool. he asked himself what you were doing in tulsa rather than some other fancy state like california.

i’m in love and it’s a crying shame

and i know that you’re the one to blame

“mr. curtis.” a stern voice broke through to sodapop, breaking the stained glass that in soda’s mind, was a mural of you and only you.

he snapped his neck to look up at the teacher, hovering over his desk as a finger harshly pointed at the paper on soda’s desk, almost empty.

“uh—sorry, sir.” mumbled sodapop as he grabbed his pencil and put his best thinking face on, hoping that the teacher would take the hint and retreat back to his old scratched up desk that looked like it had survived world war one.

the teacher narrowed his eyes at him, his upper lip curling into a sneer as he looked down at soda, before slowly walking back to his desk.

soda comically sighed in relief, taking one more glance back at you. he pressed his lips together tightly as he saw you talking to your friends. he always loved seeing you smile.

he exhaled sharply, earning another warning look from his teacher. soda tilted his head down as he studied the math problems below him, cradling his hand in his hand as his brain tried his best to work.

hey, hey set me free

stupid cupid, stop picking on me

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

i cant do my homework and i cant think straight

“what’s up with you?” ponyboy asked, not looking up from his book. in the corner of his eye, he watched sodapop bounce his leg vigorously as he tried to rub his temples to somehow think better.

“nothin’, pony. don’t worry ‘bout it.” soda responded. he threw his head back to lean on the top of the chair, he was really out of ideas. all that occupied his mind was you. he was writing an essay? you pop up into his brain, he accidentally writes your name to which he has to erase afterwards with red ears.

i meet her every morning ‘bout half past eight

i’m acting like a lovesick fool

you even got me carrying your books to school

how could sodapop miss this once in a lifetime opportunity? he just had to talk to you. one day, when you guys met before school, your breath both evident in the cold oklahoma morning, you made a joke about soda carrying your stuff for you.

“here, be a gentleman, yeah?” a laugh slipper past your lips, and when soda heard that gorgeous sound come out of your mouth, how could he deny you?

your mouth fell into an ‘o’ shape, not even getting the word out before soda grabbed the books from under your arm and held them under his.

you tilted your head as a smile graced your face. gosh, were there wedding bells? soda definitely heard them.

“y’know i was jokin’, right?” you asked, making sure you weren’t forcing him into doing anything. “i can take them back if you want—“

“nah, it’s alright.“ he brushed it off, waving his free hand dismissively before starting again, “plus, you’re right. how could i leave a pretty lady to carry her books on her own?” to that, you sheepishly grinned wider as you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear shyly when you looked away.

you mixed me up for good right from the very start

hey now, go play robin hood with somebody else’s heart

the more that soda talked with you, the harder it was to get you out of his head. but the more he talked with you, the less he minded.

soda had dropped out of school. sure, you somewhat contributed to him failing with how much you occupied his head, but it was also on his own.

he was working at the dx with steve, working on cars all day to especially help darry out.

soda wiped his face with his forearm, cleaning his oily rag as steve rambled about something in the background. he hadn’t seen you in awhile, considering that instead of walking with you to school, darry had dropped steve and soda off at work.

but suddenly, the door tripped the bell, giving it a loud ring as soda looked up at who was walking through the door. and speak of the devil.

he could recognize you just from your sneakers. his head whipped back up to meet your eyes, and gosh was it refreshing to see your face again. a soft smile still remained on your face, as it usually did.

“sodapop! so you really was workin’ here, huh?” you asked, eyes roaming around the multitude of shelves in the gas station interior.

soda’s mouth gaped, opening and closing like a fish. he watched as you walked up to the register and drummed your hands lightly on the counter.

“yeah!”, soda finally managed to blurt out, “how’ve you been? anythin’ new happen at school?” he asked, hearing steve finally shut up. soda could just imagine his ears pricking up at the sound of a pretty girl’s voice appearing.

“nothin’ much,” you leaned in and put a hand to the side of your mouth in a secretive manner, “mandy got pregnant.” soda gasped as he comically brought a hand up to his mouth. you guys whispered and gossiped, steve eyeballing both of you cautiously before slinging an arm around soda’s shoulders and brashly giving him a loud, “who’s this, soda?”

sodapop squinted at his friend and slowly turned his head, full of embarrassment. your eyes darted between the two of them, before giving steve a small wave and quietly giving him your name. your eyes fell back on soda, “well, i was just wonderin’ if you’d like to go to the drive-in wit’ me on saturday?”

“yeah, sure!” why was he acting like such a dork now? in front of the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen? but he sighed with relief when you nodded, giving him the same sweet smile you always greeted him with.

you got me jumping like a crazy clown

and i don’t feature what you’re putting down

once you had left the dx, soda went out to the garage and almost squealed, punching the air in excitement. steve narrowed his eyes as he watched through the garage windows, genuinely considering if soda was possessed or not.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

saturday couldn’t come quicker. it was already a great time leading up to the date, soda was confident. he was looked at himself in the mirror, popping his collar with assertiveness and heading out the door.

during the actual date, he tried to make subtle moves. shifting closer to you, touching thighs or linking pinkies. although you seemed okay with it, there was no engagement on your part. that almost worried soda, he knew you asked him on a date, but he was still overthinking. was he not all you expected? was he doing too much? too little?

but at the end of the date, when he drove you home in darry’s car that he begged to drive in, a small silence fell over you when you had reached your destination.

“y’need me to walk you up?”

“it’s alright, but do me a quick favor, will you?” soda couldn’t tear his eyes off your mouth when you spoke, lips painted a wine maroon color that somehow flowed so delicately with your words.

“anything.” was all soda said, before you placed your hand on the side of his cheek, giving him enough time to pull away, before closing your eyes and kissing him.

in that moment, it felt like you two were the only people in the world. just you, and soda, crammed into darry’s truck in the darkness of the night, only illuminated by the small light above you two on the car’s roof.

when you pulled away, you looked at soda’s lips, slightly parted and stained with a light purple-ish red as he looked at you, absolutely mesmerized.

“thank you. i’ll make sure to drop by the dx on my way home, ‘kay?” you said, not waiting for an answer as you bolted out of the vehicle due to your nearing curfew.

well since i’ve kissed her loving lips of wine

the thing that bothers me is that i like it fine

all soda could do was gape as he watched you depart into the sea of outside lights surrounding your front door and windows, watching you turn around give him a small wave once you opened the front door.

still dazed, all soda could do was wave back. before a wide grin appeared on his face as he covered his eyes with his hands.

stupid cupid, sodapop thought.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ this better get some likes i worked my ass off for this little fic and it’s only a thousand words 😭😭

kiss kiss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

#the outsiders x reader #the outsiders #sodapop curtis #sodapop curtis x reader #i love sodapop omg #literally my bae #sodapop blurb #sodapop the outsiders #sodapop x reader #sodapop imagine #the outsiders sodapop #i’m so proud of this fic #my longest one yet #1k words #i legit locked in #ambrozjas #kiss kiss

[thingspeoplesayintoontown]

bonus post!

important plot point for piper happened last night

a story

#i think this is one of the longest posts thus far but it was all worth it.png #and yet little does she know she will be put back in because pluto will just get rebuilt </3.png #i got the sticker on my main tho so W #toontown #toontown corporate clash #corporate clash #ttcc #things people say in toontown

[serasfanfiction]

CW for Alastor being Alastor, but that's to be expected. This chapter is all from his POV.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3| Part 4 | Part 5| Part 6 | Part 7 - Interlude

Alastor was having what he might call an exceptionally good day, if he did say so himself.

His mobility was almost back to normal, that pesky little parting gift Adam had left him having practically healed itself overnight. Why, he'd even been able to remove the stitches!

He had seen some improvement over the last month, agonizingly slow as it had been. Consuming the flesh and souls of other sinners had certainly sped things up a bit, but only finitely. He had resigned himself to the fact that healing would be a slow process, especially after the first time he pushed too hard and undid all the work he'd done up until that point. It had grated on him, but he could be patient.

If there was anything he was good at, it was being patient and bidding his time.

Getting a taste of angel's blood, though? Not just a taste, but a real go at it? Oh, now that had changed everything.

He hadn't had a chance at the holy feast following the last Extermination. He'd been too busy licking his wounds and trying not to bleed out. By the time he'd been able to pull himself together, figuratively and literally, the bodies were long gone. There had been claims about the rejuvenating effects some had experienced following eating of the flesh and drinking of the blood, but as it hadn't been a process they could readily replicate, it had done him little good.

Then none other than Lucifer Morningstar had offered himself up, willingly placing himself on the menu.

When the little king had done that little trick, the thought had crossed Alastor's mind. He was only human (deceased though he may be) and this was the father of temptation himself. Granted, it was likely Lucifer was used to being sexually desired, but hunger of a carnal nature had never been one of Alastor's sins. His hunger for the flesh had stopped at the actual eating of the flesh.

And Alastor craved nothing more than he craved the flesh of others like him.

The Wendigo that lay beneath the surface, a very real manifestation of his hunger was now a permanent part of his being. In life, he had hungered for the flesh of humans. In death, while he could still enjoy the odd sinner here and there, it was akin to 'empty calories,' he believed they were called. They curbed his hunger, for a little while, but it never quite seemed to hit the spot.

No, nothing quite filled him up the way venison did.

Before the creation of his bayou, he'd had to rely on the odd deer demon that appeared on the rare occasion. He was hardly the only one, but there never seemed to be enough of them. Butcher shops occasionally helped, but it never seemed enough. He'd been near ravenous towards the end there.

All the while she had been laughing at him. She had known this would happen and she hadn't warned him. One of her little games, letting him think she was giving him what he wanted only to chain him further to her. He had never cursed his deal as much as he had then when she had taken pity on him and taught him how to bend reality on a small scale. To create the bayou - a reflection of the very place where he had died - and filled it with the creatures that were not only necessary to keep him alive, but to allow him to thrive.

So he couldn't help but wonder, while Lucifer flashed those ears at him and called the very features that had nearly undone him 'cute,' how deep did the transformation go? Could a mimic sate his hunger as good as the real thing? The possibility that the seraphim blood might have rejuvenate powers didn't hurt, either.

It would have been everything he needed, served to him in a little red and white package.

It had been pipe dream, he'd thought at the time. Nothing to seriously entertain. Despite appearances to the contrary, he did know he had limits. Adam had just been an oversight. His growth in power had never truly been tested and well.

Lesson learned. He wasn't keen to try his luck just yet, especially not injured and his microphone broken, limiting his power.

But then Lucifer had done something so left field, Alastor still wasn't entirely certain he hadn't imagined it: a trade of his blood for some good behavior. In deer form, no less! The opportunity had been so good he'd had to hold onto his eagerness by the skin of his teeth.

Everything about the experience had not been a disappointment. Not only had he'd gotten quite a bit of entertainment out of the exchange, but it turned out the stories had been true. Within a few short hours of consuming Lucifer's blood, the wound indeed showed marked improvement.

The real treat, however, was that the hunger had indeed fallen silent. Oh, it had returned in due time, but how long it had stayed away! His appetite had only just been seriously returning when the first attack on the hotel happened, providing him with quite the meal and even a handful of angel's blood. He'd felt positively spoiled.

Getting to see the little seraphim in his full demonic glory had been interesting, as well. He'd known Lucifer had wiped the floor with Adam, despite Niffty being the one to kill him, but it was always different seeing it.

This was Hell's King. This was the entity the stories had talked about. All that power, right there on display, and all Alastor had wanted in that moment was to have this being underneath him again. Wanted to see how far he could push. To see how much Lucifer would let him take.

(Alastor wasn't certain what had possessed him to reach for Lucifer in that moment. Wasn't certain what he would have done had the little king decided to take him up on his offer. Had he simply wanted to hold that power in his hands? To burn himself on it?)

And oh, how his patience had paid off.

Such a huge gain and all it had cost Alastor was a night of his company and some information. Information Lucifer really should have already known, at that.

Now, Alastor was full and so very near hale and hearty again. Why, he was close to being able to tackling fixing his microphone soon!

Perhaps if he could have another feeding in the future...

Ah, but it wouldn't do to get used to this. Three times was already far more than he could have ever imagined, plus it never paid to put his wellbeing in the hands of others. They were so often unreliable. There were only two people in Heaven or Hell that he trusted, and neither of them resided in the hotel.

So, Alastor put the idea aside and went about his day as normal. If he had an extra skip to his walk, and his smile a touch more sanguine that normal, to the point he was receiving some nervous side glances, well, all the more entertainment for him.

He was feeling so well, in fact, he felt up to taking a little jaunt to visit one of his favorite people.

Cannibal Town was as lively as ever, despite their numbers had seen some reduction during Heaven's assault on the hotel. Rosie's Emporium, always the main attraction, was not lacking for people lined up to see their Overlord. The line was already starting to snake out the door.

Alastor strolled in, not minding the line in the slightest. Rosie always made time for him.

Sure enough, the woman in question looked up at the sound of the door opening, her ever-present smile widening in delight on seeing him. She never paused in whatever affair she was discussing with her current client, but she did make an effort to finish it up a touch bit faster.

He stood off to the side politely, waiting to see if now was a bad time or not. He wasn't bringing her anything other than his company and this was an impromptu visit.

"Alastor!" She greeted, loud and affectionate. "A visit twice in one month! You certainly know how to spoil a girl."

Alastor felt that little black thing that served as his heart warm with the genuine sincerity being shown his way. He matched her smile with an honest one himself. "Only those who deserve it, my dear, and you always do."

Rosie placed a hand to her cheek, bemused. "Oh, you." She waved over to one of the tables. "Now tell little ol' me what brings you here. You haven't gotten yourself into any more trouble, have you?"

He could hear a hint of concern in her voice and resolved to bring her a gift the next time he came over. "Oh, you know me. I'm always up for something exciting." He let her maneuver him into a chair set up at a table for two. "In this case, I was up for a walk and thought I'd indulge in your company, if you'll have me."

The Victorian Overlord's body language eased ever so slightly, adding to the suspicion she might have been worried. "Always, dear." She pressed a seemingly delicate finger to her lips. "Give me 30 minutes to clear this lot out and I'm all yours!"

He nodded, and she gave him a light pat on the shoulder as she went back to her work, pausing only briefly to have one of her workers send over a pot of tea. He spent the next half hour sipping on the latest delightful blend she was offering, watching the cannibals coming and going. Most were asking for the same thing they always did: someone wanting someone else to disappear, usually in a body bag they would of course hand over to Rosie.

After what he was sure was thirty minutes and no more (not that he would have honestly timed her, why, that would have been discourteous), his fellow Overlord was escorting the last of her clients out the door. Business completed, she turned on her guest. "Now that all of that work stuff is out of the way," Rosie said as she came to sit in the chair across from the redhead, "Come now, tell me all the gossip! Surely something juicy happened with how lively you're looking today."

Alastor supposed he shouldn't be surprised that she had seen through his mask the last time he'd been here. He'd needed to get away from hotel, just for a bit, as the strain of hiding his wound was wearing on him. None of his usual acquaintances had suspected a thing, and he had wanted to keep it that way.

But Rosie was hardly an 'acquaintance.'

He supposed since she knew already, it wouldn't hurt to assure her the worst was past. He also supposed he had a gift for her after all. Lowering the cup to the saucer on the table, he assured, "You could say I recently benefited from a rather unexpected deal recently."

Rosie raised an eyebrow expectantly, "Well, don't keep a girl waiting! Details!"

Because he was a little bit of a drama queen, he waiting until she had raised her own cup to her lips before he stated, "It turns out that all the rumors about angel blood is true, even more so for seraphim blood."

It was only because she had perfect control that she did not, if fact, choke on her drink. Rosie started at him for a long moment, trying to see if he was serious. When it became clear he was, she stated, "Well, shit, you certainly don't go small, do you?" She leaned forward, placing her free hand over one of his. "This deal didn't put you in a tough spot, now did it?"

Alastor's smile softened. "None of that, my dear." He didn't like to touch people, anymore than he liked being touched in return, but Rosie had always been kind to him, so he placed his other hand on top of hers and gave it a squeeze. "All that was asked for was a who's who on Pentagram City's current political landscape."

Rosie tilted her head to the side, the feather in her hat swaying with the motion. When she withdrew her hand, Alastor released it. "Our King is showing interest in his kingdom?" She blinked, more than a little surprised. He didn't blame her. "My, what could have brought this little development about?"

Alastor pulled both hands from the table, a subtle cue he had had enough tactile contact for the day, although he wasn't completely closing himself off from it. "Someone has been sending mercenaries to attack the hotel. Drivel, mostly. Little more than snacks on the whole." He hummed in memory of all the free morsels that had been sent his way, lately. "The attacks haven't done anything, really, other than rile his Majesty up." He gave her a look of amusement. "He's begun an investigation into who might be behind the attacks and asked after us Overlords. I gave you a good word, of course."

It was a testament to how quick-witted she was that Rosie barely blinked over the idea that their sovereign had apparently not only crawled out of the wood work, but was also finally taking an interest in his kingdom again. "Oh, of course you did." She flapped a hand at Alastor. "Do tell him if he ever want to visit, he's more than welcome!"

Alastor made a noise of acknowledgement. "He's quite the character, our king. I'm sure you'd find him... amusing." Amongst other things, he thought to himself as he sipped on the last of his tea.

Ever the host, Rosie noticed. "Oh, dear me, let me refill that." She raised the pot of tea to do so, offering, "You know, I just remembered: we got in a fresh body just this morning. Would you like an arm?"

The redhead considered the request, but found himself much too full. Whatever room he'd had available had already been taken up by his drink. "I thank you kindly for the offer, but sadly must pass this time." He placed his now empty cup on its saucer. "Why, I dare say I might have to wait on another cup of this delicious tea."

Rosie didn't have pupils that Alastor had ever been able to track, yet he had the distinct impression he was being looked up and down. "That blood must have been quite the thing to curb an appetite like yours." She shrugged before pulling over a box of ring fingers. Some even still had the rings on them. "Hm, knowing you, a certain someone might have to worry about her seat - if she ever intends to come back."

Alastor paused. Rosie did that sometimes: said things that threw him for a loop. "What now?"

She waved a finger in a circle to indicate the entirety of her guest, her smile all teeth and knowing. "Come now, Alastor, I don't think I've ever seen you in such a state before. I almost think you have intentions towards the king!"

The redhead tilted his head to the side, considering. Did he have intentions towards Lucifer? He certainly wouldn't mind having another go at his blood. Riling him up had yet to get old.

The urge to hunt, sated though it was at the moment, thrummed through his veins. Here was the ultimate prey, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to turn the tides.

The memory of the smell of apples and something he'd come to associate with Lucifer rose to mind. Of warm, pale alabaster skin beneath his lips. The feel of hands that could so easily crush him carding gently, absentmindedly, through his hair.

For the first time since their little games had started, though, Alastor realized that sitting beside the urge to devour was the urge to keep.

He examined the thought. He meant it when he said he delt primarily in favors. There were so few souls that interested him enough to keep long term. They were usually individuals who ranked as powerhouses themselves. Investments first, entertainment second.

This urge resembled that desire, but not quite. He certainly wanted access to the power contained within that tiny little package that called himself the King, but beyond that, he was beginning to think he might want to own Lucifer in every sense of the word.

Well. That was certainly quite the turn.

He turned his attention back to the world outside his own head, finding his fellow Overlord watching him and patiently waiting for him to sort out his thoughts. "I'm afraid, my dear, I don't have an answer to that, but you have given me quite the food for thought."

Rosie, bless her, didn't press. Knowing how perceptive she was on matters of the song and dance that was interpersonal relationships, it was likely she knew more than he did.

He really was thankful he made an ally of her rather than an enemy.

The rest of their chat was turned to less deep conversation. Soon enough, she sent him on his way, but not before warning, "Now be careful, Alastor. Kitten our King may be, I saw how fierce he can be when pressed."

If it didn't mean acquiring one of those silly picture boxes, Alastor might have been inclined break down and watch whatever that voyeur Vox had filmed of the fight on Extermination Day. Incidentally, his pride point blank period refused to allow him to let such a thing anywhere near his person if he didn't have to. "Don't worry, dear. It's all merely a thought. I won't do anything lest I know there's a chance at success."

That seemed to mull her over. They said their goodbyes, and he was off back to the hotel.

The conundrum that was his entanglement with Lucifer followed him all the way back to the hotel, dogging his steps as he went through the rest of his day. He didn't see the blonde at any point before he retired for bed, which was likely for the best, as Alastor was distracted and unlikely to be at the top of his game.

He didn't see him throughout any point of the following day either, not that he was looking for him. He didn't give it a second thought, not until he came upon Hell's princess halfway into a tizzy in the main gathering room.

"But Vaggie! He hasn't come down in almost two days!" Charlie wrang her hands together, glancing at the ceiling in the general direction of her father's room. "What if something's wrong?"

Vaggie had a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder, as much a comfort as it was a restraint. "What did he say when you knocked on the door?"

The hotel's owner bit her lip. "Just that he wanted to stay in for a bit. But that was yesterday. He didn't even respond at all when I knocked this morning."

"And you're sure he's still here? That he didn't leave?"

Charlie nodded. "His door is locked. He doesn't bother to lock it if he's not in."

Well, that's a silly thing to do, Alastor thought to himself. He filed it away for later. Deciding he was curious enough to join the conversation, especially since it seemed he might have been the last to see Lucifer. It would be bothersome if anyone thought he'd done anything to him when he really hadn't yet.

Alastor allowed his corporeal form to dissipate, only to reform right behind Vaggie. "What's this I hear about our esteemed leader disappearing?"

"Shit!" The fallen angel jumped, just as he hoped. Predictably, she spun around, bringing the point of her spear right up to his nose. "Cut it out, asshole. We don't have time for your games right now."

Alastor smiled down at her, as calm as a undisturbed pond, taking hold of the end of the spear and redirecting it away from his face. "And who's playing around? I heard our dear Charlie in distress and just had to see if I could help in anyway."

Vaggie narrowed her eye at him. One day, he was going to drive her to actually attempt to stab him. It would be such an entertaining day when it happened.

Charlie sniffed. She didn't necessarily look relieved to see him becoming involved, which, fair, but he could see something easing in her stance.

It was such a delight to see how much she'd grown to rely on him.

Stepping around the most hostile entity in the room like she wasn't holding a certified deadly weapon, Alastor came up to stand beside Charlie. "Tell me, do you have any reason to believe something might be wrong?"

She searched his face for any hint of falsehood. Any hint that he might use this against them.

She wasn't going to find any. She was learning to be more cautious of him, but she still had a long way to go before she'd see through his carefully constructed persona.

"Well... maybe?" She offered at last. He could see it in her eyes, her drooped shoulders: a certain helplessness. It was different from the kind that had driven her to make a deal with him. This kind was old, the sort that came from a time before the autonomy of adulthood. Likely this issue had roots in her childhood. "Mom used to say that Dad just kind of shut down sometimes. Worse than normal." She glanced at her girlfriend, likely for moral support, and then back at him. "Mom said it wasn't good to leave him alone during those times."

Alastor pushed down the eager swell that might have given up the game. Was it really going to be this easy? "And you think this might be one of those times?"

She mulled over this. Nodded, and then shrugged. "It's possible, but without getting past the lock..."

"I tried to pick the lock," Angel put out from where he was lounging on the couch, feet across Husk's lap. Husk, curiously, didn't appear to mind.

Charlie winced. "Yes, which is really not good! We shouldn't pick people's doors."

Angel shrugged, unbothered by the reprimand. "Didn't matter, either way. Turns out the door's magically locked." He made a handsy gesture with his top set of hands to emphasis his point.

Alastor looked between the two. "Is it warded?"

Everyone turned to look at him in confusion. Charlie blinked. "Warded?"

Oh, how quaint this lot was. "Magically locking the door means no one can unlock the door without breaking the spell. Unless the door is warded, there's nothing to stop someone from going, say, under the door."

Vaggie crossed her arms, posture irritated. "We can't go under the door, Alastor."

If he had his mic, he might have bopped her on the head just to mess with her. As it was, Alastor settled for smiling ever so sweetly at her as he pointed out, "Ah, maybe you can't, but it just so happens, I can."

Charlie shifted, uncertain. "You promise you won't make things worse...?"

She was so close that he could practically taste it.

Alastor placed a hand on her shoulder, softening his expression. "Now now, dear, we both know your father is hardly helpless. If he doesn't want me in there, he's more than capable of kicking me out."

Vaggie snorted, glaring viciously at him. "Yeah, not that that's ever stopped you."

Charlie glanced at her, warningly, before looking back at Alastor. She sighed and placed her hand over his. Feeling generous, he let her. "Alastor, please check on him, just... don't push, okay?"

Nothing but a formal deal was going to guarantee that, but he didn't have to advertise it. "I promise to be on my best behavior."

Her smile really was like sunlight breaking on the horizon when it wasn't being forced. She jerked forward as if she'd wanted to go for a hug but had aborted it at the last minute. Instead, she squeezed his hand. "Thank you, Alastor."

He disappeared into his shadow, partially to avoid her changing her mind and going for that hug, but also to avoid any further stipulations on his task. Between the quality of his last meal and the leaps and bounds in the healing of his wound, traveling by shadow was almost as easy as it had been before his injury. Seraphim blood was a marvel. It was such a pity that there was so little of it in Hell.

Alastor had studied the entirety of the hallway that made up his and Lucifer's floor along with the rest of the hotel the first opportunity he got upon his return. His inspection had stopped at white doors, whose handles were adorned with the same apple accents that littered the rest of the hotel. As he slipped under them, he could smell the magic on the handles. True to his suspicion, the spell was only on the lock itself, with nothing to guard again something like a shadow slipping right under the door.

It seemed Alastor's self-restraint in light of his injury had paid off, because nothing hindered him in anyway as he made his way into the room of the most powerful being Hell.

Alastor stuck to the outskirts of the room, where the darkest shadows gathered. It wasn't difficult, as most of the room was in shadow, the curtains drawn with very little natural light peaking in underneath them. The room was silent in a way that, at first, suggested that no one was in.

Perhaps Lucifer had gone out and failed to tell anyone, after all?

Tentatively, Alastor returned to his corporeal form, keeping to the darkest shadow the room he could find. When nothing and no one came flying at him, he turned his attention to the room at large.

Overall, the room appeared sparsely furnished. There was a rug laid out in front of the door. Chairs surrounding a table big enough for two over on one side of the room. The fireplace didn't appear to have ever been used, but it was there. A couple of bookshelves and a desk were the most lived in, but that was only because they were covered in small, yellow shapes he couldn't quite make out in the dark. A bed took up most of the final wall. It was perhaps the grandest thing about the room, looking every bit fit for the king who slept in it. Two side tables sat on either side of it, both with a lamp of their own.

As for the king himself, now that he was looking for it, Alastor could see the faintest outline of a shape near the left side of the bed. Creeping closer, he could see a pair of familiar boots and coat laying on the floor. A little closer, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room, he could see a pair of mimicked deer ears poking out the top of the nest of blankets.

For a long moment, Alastor simply stood there, looking down at the lump. His ears were strained for the first sign that his presence had been noticed, but so far there had been none. He could feel his grin widening with each beat of his heart that passed. There were so many things he could do in that moment and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him.

There was a part of him, the part that was still human and remembered what it was like to be human, that wanted to finish the job he'd started two days ago. When he'd been alive, allowing a victim to live would have been tantamount to a death sentence. A living victim could become a witness who could identify him to the authorities and then the game would be up.

Lucifer wasn't just a potential victim. He was the authorities. He was the highest authority.

After his death, Alastor hadn't had to hide who he was or what he was like. It was simply a kill or be killed world, where one's continued existence depended on brains and reputation.

And oh what a reputation the Radio Demon would gain, if he took out the King of Hell himself?

The chain - noose - around his neck sat heavy and loud, ever grating against his sanity. The memory of Husk's deal held so easily in a dark grey hand brought him back down to himself. Reminded him why he wanted to keep the little king around.

There was no other reason. There could be no other reason.

He admitted to himself that it might be interesting to just stand there, looming as he waited for Lucifer to awaken. The subconscious was a funny thing and people on the whole didn't appreciate being stared at when they slept. The general consensus was that it was creepy. It was half the reason he enjoyed doing it and it always left the victim feeling off balance. When his majesty continued to not respond, Alastor also admitted to himself that while he did normally enjoy such a plan, he wasn't that patient.

Ready to spring away, if necessary, Alastor reached out until those tantalizing ears were just under his hand. Unrepentantly, he flicked one of them.

The ear twitched violently, the lump beneath the blanket shuddered, ear going flat. Grey hands appeared along the edge of the blanket, pulling it down for Lucifer peer up at him.

The sinner waved his fingers by way of greeting at his king, who stared back at him with a pair of tired, dead eyes.

Lucifer blinked at him, once, twice... and then pulled the covers back over his head??

Alastor felt the glitch to his system, spitting static. Did Lucifer think he could just ignore Alastor and he'd go away?

Oh, no. Oh no, that wouldn't do at all.

Time to throw away the preverbal Nice Guy gloves. He clapped his hands once, sharply, one shadow going for the lamp on the side desk while another went for the end of the covers. With vindictive amusement, the covers were ripped clean off the bed, while the flick of a switch bathed the room in light. A third shadow went for the curtains, yanking them aside to let the afternoon light in. Over the low groans of the bed's occupant, Alastor proclaimed at just high enough a volume to be annoying, "Rise and shine, your Majesty! You've nearly slept the day away, but there's still some time left to enjoy it."

The blonde still didn't look like he gave any sort of fuck that someone was standing over his bed harassing him. Alastor took in the rumpled state of his king's clothing - he was still dressed in his suit, sans the pieces on the floor - as Lucifer threw an arm over his eyes in a futile attempt to block out the light. Without a word, he merely rolled over, presenting his back to Alastor, as if he wasn't a concern in the slightest. His tail didn't even so much a flick once.

Alastor narrowed his eyes, gritting his teeth. It ground his gears more than a bit to be so blatantly treated as so little a threat, but the more he took in the situation, the more it drove home what Charlie had meant by 'just kind of shut down.' With the absence of the quilt and sheets, the reek of melancholy wafted off Lucifer in waves, nearly overpowering his usual scent. Little things observed over time - the most damning being what was glimpsed during their last encounter - and Alastor recognized what he was looking at.

Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil and King of Hell was depressed. Deeply, truly, very depressed.

This was the potential opportunity he was looking for. Alastor would have to be blind not to see it. Getting close to Charlie had given him influence over Hell's future ruler as well as a possible solution to his ...other problem. It was a long game he'd been more than willing to play for the potential future rewards.

This here was the king, himself, though. As he'd just thought to himself: the highest authority in Hell. Lucifer didn't have much by way of political influence beyond the people's fear of his power. He clearly wasn't willing to use his authority to rule over his kingdom, first advocating it to his much more interested wife, before abandoning it altogether when she left.

On the other hand, who didn't know who he was? The other side of the coin to God himself, Lucifer was one of the most well known beings in all of creation, the originator and father of sin himself. The being who'd given humanity their free will and so neatly interrupted his holy father's plans.

Lucifer's interest in politics may have been nonexistent, but his reputation more than made up for it.

Could he do it, Alastor wondered to himself. Could he force himself into something companion shaped enough to meet the needs another just for power? He'd already debased himself so much already - it was how he landed in his current situation, in every sense of the word - could he do it a little more?

Static emitted from his throat, his desire - his desperation - to be free at war with his pride, tattered though it's remains were. Companionship usually came with other expectations. Expectations that included touching, amongst other things. The mere thought made him want to claw his own skin off and nothing had even happened yet.

He hadn't realized he'd moved until he heard a squeak from the direction of the floor. Attention diverted, Alastor craned his head around, hearing his own neck cracking in the process, as he tried to get a better look at whatever it was he had stepped on. He blinked when he saw the object, unable to resist reaching down to pick up the item to better exam it.

It was... a rubber duckie?

Lips parting in his bafflement, he twisted around to look towards the desk and shelves he remembered seeing earlier. The light of the lamp and the outside world illuminated the yellow objects, revealing them to be a mass pile of what were indeed rubber duckies. Every single one of them was some degree of different from the others, but they were all unmistakably the same thing. There had to be over a hundred of them. Some of them were new, but some of them were old, likely brought over from the palace.

Disgust curled up in his chest like a living thing. Disgust at himself. Disgust at Lucifer for being living proof that power doesn't mean a damn thing in the end. His anger made him reckless, blind to the potential consequences, as Alastor asked, "Is this why they left?"

For the first time since entering the room, he finally gained Lucifer's attention. "What?"

The single word sounded like a warning, but Alastor had already picked up too much momentum. He knew he liked to poke where he shouldn't, that it could be the death of him one day. Perhaps today was going be that day. In that moment, weighted down by everything, he almost didn't care. "While your people were getting slaughtered and your wife's kingdom was being burned to the ground, were you making children's toys?"

Lazily, damningly, like the final nail in his own coffin, he spun around back to the lump that would be his king. He sneered.

"How pathetic."

The only warning he had was the flicking of that silly, ridiculous tail.

Suddenly, the room was spinning. No, he was falling - being pulled? - onto the bed. His back made contact with the mattress and he got a brief glimpse of the ceiling before it was replaced by Lucifer.

Who was livid. Hands like stone pinned Alastor down at the wrists. The rest of Lucifer's body weight rested on the sinner's hips, one leg resting on either side of his body. Every single one of his fangs were visible as he bared his teeth in a snarl mere inches from Alastor's nose. "Who are you to judge me? You dare to speak of things you know nothing about?!"

Eyes void of pupils glared down at him, staring down into his very soul. Feeling exposed, feeling vulnerable, Alastor's flight or fight response kicked in, sending his heart rate through the roof. He tried to dissolve into his shadow, only to find himself unable to do so.

In response to his distress, he shadows rose up, diving in to take out his attacker. Lucifer didn't even acknowledge them. His wings appeared behind him, flooding the room with a bright light that drove away any and all shadows.

Sensing he was caught, the part of Alastor's brain that was every bit the prey animal he worked so hard not to let himself be forced him to go still under a dangerous predator.

"You are nothing more than a rapid dog nipping at my heels." Lucifer growled, the smell of smoke heavy on his breathe. "I should put you out of your misery, once and for all."

Alastor swallowed, forced himself to think through the molasses of his fear. He may be pinned and powerless, but he wasn't completely without weapons. He was never more glad that his smile was fixed in place as he stated, "Ah, there you are, your Majesty. You had Charlie worried about you."

He was almost able to keep the grimace out of his voice. Almost.

Alastor wondered if that had been perhaps the wrong thing to say, as Lucifer tightened his grip until bones began to grind together. Red tipped fingers curled inwards, the only sign of his pain.

Golden pupils appeared between one blink to the next, tracking the movement. As if he actually cared about the pain he could be causing, Lucifer's grip loosened, just enough that they were simply pinning instead of inflicting harm. His voice, on the other hand, held no mercy, as he asked, "What does my daughter have to do with this?"

Growing more confident the longer the king didn't kill him, Alastor explained, "Well, when she didn't hear from you today, Charlie asked me to come check on you, of course!" It wasn't entirely the truth, but it was close enough to hold up under any immediate scrutiny.

Lucifer narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, all to happy to bring on the scrutiny. "Why would she send you?"

Alastor shrugged like he wasn't pinned under someone who was just trying to kill him mere moments ago. "Because I was the only one that could get into the room. Perks of being the Hotel Manager!" As his panic began to settle with each passing moment Lucifer was slowly returning to his normal form, the feeling of his skin crawling from every point of contact between them was beginning to rise. He needed to get Lucifer off him and soon. "In fact, she's waiting for word back right at this moment!"

Lucifer's eyes, pupils red and sclera yellow again, searched him, likely to see if he was telling the truth. Upon seeing that he was, he proceeded to finally make a mistake.

He took his eyes off of his captive to glance at the door, hands loosing just that tiny, crucial bit more.

Alastor caught his heels on the edge of the bed, using the leverage to raise his hips up into a bridge. The new position forced Lucifer to either release his wrists to catch himself or face plant as he was thrown forward. Luckily for the redhead, Lucifer went for catching himself, releasing Alastor, who immediately sprung up, catching the blond around the waist. Twisting, the two toppled over.

Within mere seconds, their positions were reversed: Alastor on top and Lucifer pinned to the mattress on his back.

The little king blinked up at him. He almost looked impressed with the move. He glanced at the hands pinning his wrists, flexing them as he tested the strength of the grip. Squirmed a little as the new position was likely putting an uncomfortable weight on his wings.

Good, Alastor thought. At any other time and situation, Alastor might have been fascinated by them. At the moment, his grip on those deceptively dainty wrists and any signs of discomfort were the only thing allowing him to hold onto his sanity.

For a long moment, they simply remained still, both parties regaining control over their frayed nerves. As his heart rate settled, his breathing normalizing, Alastor became aware of something he hadn't noticed over the stench of melancholy: his own scent.

It was becoming stale, but he could still was still there, separate from what he was currently leaving behind. It clung to Lucifer's person like a neon sign to tell anyone with the nose for it that he had let the Radio Demon close enough to him to make a claim.

He hadn't gotten rid of it.

The knowledge awoke a beast of a different kind, possessive and wanting, the scales tipping from Alastor wanting to devour this prize to wanting to keep him, if only he could figure out how. It left him nearly dizzy with whiplash.

Movement pulled him out of the thought. The redhead focused back on the outside world in time to see Lucifer directing his attention down the length of his own body. Alastor, without thinking, did the same.

Something hot and mortified clawed at his throat as he realized that while the blonde had been sitting on his hips in the original hold, the change in position had Alastor pinning Lucifer to a bed while sitting between his legs.

Alastor threw himself off of Lucifer and the bed, feeling like every point of contact had burned him. Lucifer raised himself up on his elbows, raising an eyebrow at him. The redhead didn't know what he saw in his expression before it was all locked away behind his mask, but it resulted in the blonde's own expression growing tired.

Lucifer let himself fall back onto the bed, seemingly heedless of his wings, running a hand down his face. "Message received." He waved a hand at the door. The spell on the door fell away with a light shower of sparks. Task down, the limb fell limp down onto the mattress. "Please tell Charlie I'll be down shortly."

It was a clear dismissal. Usually Alastor would have bristled at such a thing, but considering he did not want to be in that room anymore, he let it go. Forcing everything back into place, despite the ways his edges were feeling frayed, he said faux pleasantly, "As you wish, sire."

He paid little attention to the half assed wave of goodbye he received in response. When he disappeared into his shadow, he refused to look too deeply into how much it felt like he was running.

Again.

tbc

Part 8

#radioapple #alastor #lucifer morningstar #deer lucifer fic #alastor took over this chapter #and of course its the longest one yet #yay for development of their relationship #but is it good development #i'd hoped certain scenes would go differently #but alastor does what he wants #and here we are #we're back to lucy's pov next chapter #and some more time with the plot #i need to actually think about where it's going #so i have no idea when the next part will be out #but it has been started #yay #this fic now has a title #the inherent intimacy of courting death

[simmyfrobby]

― from War is Kind ["Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind”], Stephen Crane

Hockey Poetry Post 53/?

(Photo credit: Tony Gutierrez, link, link, Smiley N. Pool, link, Steph Chambers, Jennifer Buchanan, Ashley Potts, Steph Chambers, Steph Chambers, Ashley Potts, Dean Rutz, Stephen Brashear, Matthew J. Lee, link, Bob DeChiara, Maddie Meyer, link, Sam Navarr, Wilfredo Lee, Sam Navarro, John Locher, Patrick Smith, Ellen Schmidt, link, John Locher, link)

#TW: injury #TW: serious injury #TW: concussion #alright so how much did everyone else enjoy the playoffs this year? #just me? #ok. #second round of trigger warnings in case something slipped through the cracks #and then we're back to your regularly scheduled tags #CW: injury #CW: serious injury #CW: concussion #hope I covered my bases there #ok #hockey poetry posts #longest one yet I think?? but I love this poem. it is SO brutal. #dallas stars #jamie benn #joe pavelski #seattle kraken #boston bruins #patrice bergeron #matthew tkachuk #florida panthers #jack eichel #vegas golden knights #sergei bobrovsky #vince dunn #jared mccann #matty beniers #jeremy swayman

[takonxmz]

A series of stories about modern exorcists, the ghosts to whom they become tied, and the various vengeances that they may or may not take.

(A modern-with-cultivation AU for MDZS, originally inspired by Beetlejuice and now gone entirely off the rails.)

A takonxmz series of podfics of ghost stories written by @dangerouscommiesubversive

Listen on ao3 here 🔗⤵️

Jiangzai x3: A Story About Death

songxuexiao | total podfic length: 01:25:13

Interior Design

sangcheng | total podfic length: 01:58:51

Gimme Shelter

wangxian | total podfic length: 2:10:28

Writ In Blood

xiyao | total podfic length: 2:08:45

#aaaaaaaaaaaaaa #i just finished the most high production podfic series i have ever done #there are accents i never touched before until this series #if all the fics in this series were just one big fic then this would be considered my longest podfic ever #and there was editing ... so .... much ........ editing !!!! #i didn't realized how much growth and development i'd go through in the process of recording and editing and producing these #some of my more highly produced works are these podfics (maybe after 39 Seconds podfic which had a LOT of foley effect and sfx?) #anyway the last fic of the series hasn't been posted yet so .... for me this is like. the end. for now. the completion of this series. #so i'm a bit emotional ok!!!!! #self promo #tako podfics #mdzs #my art #pentel brush pen #xiyao #songxuexiao #sangcheng #wangxian #lan wangji #lan xichen #a-qing #jiang cheng #colored ink

[kaaaaaaarf]

Guys I have 8k of Hatefuck 3 written and I haven't even gotten to the smut yet 👀

#this is going to be the longest one yet #might have to split it into two chapters #fic: hatefuck #wolfstar

[spear-gsun]

A character i designed in class today, got the assignment to make a character and for some reason i was thinking about bells I realized while making her that she'd actually fit into my oc world pretty well and add some really interesting stuff

Have not come up with a name for her yet unsurprisingly, so lets just call her Bell Goat(sheep? cow?) Grandma for now

Also heres the sketches from when i was trying to come up with ideas, first i drew the bells in the corner, then the person in the top right, and then the sketch i ended up refining

#I should really have a proper tag for my oc stuff shouldnt i? #OC #Original Characters #I dont have a name for the world/story/whatever itll be yet either #Thinking about calling it Reverie something.... Reverie Lost has been in my mind for the longest #But i dont really like it much lmao #Also i would like to talk more about my ocs but the problem is that they change so much because my worldbuilding process is a mess #Literally just decided one day “hey im gonna take literally all my current ocs and just mash them together in one universe” #And i ended up getting much more attached to my characters because of it but also #Making everything fit together as im still developing each character fairly seperately is like the worst puzzle ever #Its fun for me so its ok #Ill get there one day