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horanghaejamjam · 2 years

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Playful Rivalry

Summary: You’ve known Tae and Jimin for years, so naturally they get a bit jealous when Jungkook makes his way into your friend circle.

Pairing: Platonic Vmin x female reader. Platonic Jungkook x female reader

Rating: PG

Genre: Fluff, Angst? depending on how you look at it

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: This is a repost from my original blog, this is my own original work and not copied. Images are not mine.

BTS Masterlist

You met both Jimin and Taehyung in school. Jimin was in the same class as you, and you ended up being partnered together for a project. Not long after did he introduce you to Taehyung and the three of you became an almost inseparable trio. The three of you always did everything together; whether it be going out for lunch or curling up on the couch for an impulse movie night. Even when they debuted and grew big with Bangtan, you were always there supporting them. Of course, you weren’t able to see your boys as often because of their busy schedule, but, on the other hand, you got to meet the rest of the members. You all got along fairly well, but you never bonded with any of them the way you did with Taehyung and Jimin. That was, at least, until you started spending more time with Jungkook.

You had been sitting on the couch in the dorms one evening, waiting for the boys to get home from practice so that you could have a movie night. They had let you know earlier that they would have to stay a bit late but you didn’t mind, opting to play on your phone while you waited. They had given you a spare key so that you could let yourself in whenever you needed to, the boys all knew who you were anyways. You had just beaten the newest level in your game when the door opened and caught your attention. Turning around, you saw not your best friends, but actually Jungkook.

“Oh, hello Noona,” Jungkook greeted with a small smile, you returning the gesture.

“Hey Kookie,” you greeted back, glancing behind him, “are the others not back yet?”

“They should be back soon,” he said as he moved to take off his shoes, placing them by the door, “Most of the hyungs are staying at the studio to work on a new song. Jimin also wanted to stay back to try and perfect this one move and Taehyung decided to stay with him. They both looked pretty tired though so they shouldn’t be much longer.” You nodded and returned your attention back to your phone as the group’s maknae walked over to sit beside you, “What are you doing?”

“Just playing a random game I found,” you replied, “I promised Tae and Jiminie we would have a movie night so I’m just waiting for them to get back.” Jungkook hummed and peeked over your shoulder so he could see your screen since he had nothing better to do. Neither of you said anything for a moment, just him watching you play with feigned interest until eventually he leaned back and sighed.

“That game looks boring,” he commented out of nowhere, making you laugh. Truth be told it kind of was, but it served its purpose in distracting you for the time being. When you didn’t say anything in response though, he sighed again before glancing at his own phone. “Do you want to hang out in my room for a bit? I have a new game we can play while you wait for the others to return? You know, a game that is actually fun.” You set down your phone and thought about it for a moment. You didn’t know Jungkook too well, but this would be a great way to fix that and make a new friend. It would also give you something to do while you waited for the other two to get back.

“Sure,” you agreed after a minute. Jungkook smiled and jumped up from his seat, grabbing your hand and practically dragging you down the hall to his room. While it startled you a bit, you also couldn’t help but laugh wondering what exactly you just got yourself dragged into.

It was about 20 minutes later when Jimin and Taehyung found themselves stumbling inside of the dorm, practically tripping over each other as they got their shoes off. Their mini practice session had gone on way longer than it should have and the two had practically rushed home to try and greet you. Jimin had tried texting you to let you know they were on their way but you never answered him, making the boys worry that you had gotten bored and left. None of you had ever missed a movie night unless it was due to the boys being away on tour. Hopefully, tonight wouldn’t be any different.

“Y/N?” Taehyung called out as he walked into the living room, Jimin not far behind. They didn’t want to be too loud in case you fell asleep, but clearly, that wasn’t the case as they found the living room empty.

“It’s not that late,” Jimin said as he checked the time on his phone, “maybe she just went to the bathroom?”

“Should we wait for her?” Taehyung asked, before the older could answer they heard what sounded like a shout come from down the hall, followed by a very familiar laugh. It was one they would recognize anywhere, and not just because you were the only female that ever came over to the dorms. Glancing over at each other with a questioning look, they both made their way down the hall, pausing when they reached Jungkook’s room. The distinct sound of your laughter now sounded much more loudly, accompanied by the maknaes and the soft sounds that came from whatever game you were playing. Now the boys were very confused since when had you become friends with Jungkook? Only a week ago you were shying away in a corner as the male in question tried to drag you to practice one of their dances with them.

Jimin and Taehyung gave each other what must have been the hundredth confused look within the hour, not quite sure what to do. Of course, they were happy that you were getting along well with their members, and from the sound of it, you were having a lot of fun. However, this was supposed to be your guys’ movie night and they were really looking forward to it. Something about you canceling on them to spend time with Jungkook just didn’t sit right with them. With that in mind, Jimin knocked on the door twice to get your attention before pretty much storming into the room, Taehyung following not too far behind. Everything went silent as you jumped and paused the game out of instinct, turning to see your two best friends. The silence gave them a moment to analyze the situation. You were sat cross-legged on the bed, Jungkook sitting behind you and looking over your shoulder at the game. From glancing at the pause screen, it seemed you two had been playing for a good minute.

“Hey guys!” you exclaimed happily, clearly not feeling the steadily rising tension. If Jungkook had noticed, he didn’t say anything about it, nodding at his hyungs instead.

“How was practice?” he asked.

“It was alright,” Taehyung replied before turning his attention back to you, “sorry we’re late Y/N, ready for our movie night?”

“Oh right!” you said, having completely forgotten about your original plans in your excitement. The knowledge of that had both males slumping a bit, an unreadable expression crossing their features. Still, you were blissfully unaware as you glanced at the time on your phone and then back at the screen, “We should be done with this level shortly, why don’t you go get everything set up and I’ll join you when I finish?” Once again their expressions dropped but they didn’t argue as they nodded and silently left the room. The fact that the sounds of the game resumed as soon as the door closed hurt way more than it should. Still, they told themselves that you were just excited about spending time with a new friend so they tried not to think about it too much.

By the time you had actually finished the level, it was a bit later than you had thought. The boys already had everything prepared. The movie was up and paused, snacks and various drinks lined the coffee table, and Tae and Jimin were resting in a pile of blankets and pillows on the couch. No one said anything as you took your usual spot between them, curling up and finally enjoying your long-awaited movie nights. In your excitement, you never did catch on to the sudden change in atmosphere between your usually cheerful best friends, easily masked by exhaustion as you all fell asleep on the couch.

Unfortunately for Taehyung and Jimin, ignoring them to spend time with Jungkook gradually became a more common occurrence after that night. You came over a lot more to play games, or Jungkook would go over to your apartment as well. You guys would text and call each other all the time, make plans when you knew the boys were free, and you even started going out for lunch together. Taehyung and Jimin tried not to mind it too much at first. It was natural that you would want to spend time with your other friends after all and they didn’t want to ruin that by potentially overreacting. It was only when you started canceling your plans with them did they start to have a problem. Your fun text conversations became nonexistent, movie nights stopped, and you barely even acknowledged them whenever you came over. No more fun hugs, now you just nodded in their direction with a quick “Hey,” before running off to spend time with Jungkook.

Meanwhile, you were none the wiser to your friend’s new jealousy. Jungkook turned out to be really fun to spend time with and it turned out you had a lot in common. You found yourself bonding over your favorite games, as well as occasionally talking about school. It became a habit to come over during the evening so you could play games together and you hadn’t seen anything wrong with that. Sure, you had canceled on Taehyung and Jimin a few times but you assumed they would understand. After all, you guys planned a lot together so what was the harm in spending time with someone else? You were also under the impression that you guys could all hang out as a group once you got used to being around Jungkook. Clearly, though, you had failed to realize just how wrong you were.

The boys knew that they should probably talk to you about all of this, but you still didn’t seem to realize anything was wrong. You even asked Taehyung what was wrong one day when you saw him sulking and all he could do was stare at you in shock because how could you not realize? Did you just suddenly forget about them entirely? They were your best friends, and yet now they felt more like acquaintances that you used to be close to. It was after the fifth canceled movie night that month that the boys finally decided to do something about this.

“We have to find a way to get her attention away from Jungkook,” Tae muttered as he fell back on the couch. They had just gotten home from practice and, sure enough, the sound of your and Jungkooks laughter echoed through the dorm.

“Easier said than done,” Jimin replied, “she barely talks to us anymore. Even when we try to start a conversation or plan something she always gets distracted and ignores us.” Both boys were silent for a moment before a thought suddenly came to Taehyung, causing him to jump up from his spot.

“What if we start forcing her to pay attention to us so that she can’t ignore us for Jungkook?” he suggested. The confused look he got from the older showed that they weren’t on the same page which made him sigh a bit, “You know, like every time she comes over we do something to distract her so that way she spends time with us and not him. That way she is reminded of who her true best friends are.” It seemed a lightbulb flashed in Jimins mind as he suddenly perked up as well.

“That could work,” he said, “but how do we do it without making it obvious we’re trying to steal her attention?”

“Easy, we act cute enough and we get what we want!” Jimin scoffed and rolled his eyes at the absurdity of the statement. Still, Taehyung didn’t hear any objections so he considered it a win. “Come on!” he suddenly exclaimed, grabbing Jimin by the wrist and pulling him until they were both standing. Before the smaller could process what exactly was going on, he was being dragged down the hall towards Jungkook’s room.

“Wait! We’re doing this now?” he exclaimed, slightly panicked as they came to a stop.

“Well yeah,” Taehyung said as if it was the most obvious thing ever, “she owes us a movie night!” As soon as Jimin opened his mouth to protest, Taehyung opened the door and dragged him inside. The scene itself was very familiar to how they found you and Jungkook the first time. However, now he was sitting next to you on the bed rather than behind you. Both of you turned your heads to look at the intruders with a mix of shock and confusion. “Y/N!” Tae whined before either of you could speak, “you were supposed to have another movie night with us!” Now you were thoroughly confused, yes you knew about the movie night but you had told them earlier that you had planned to help Jungkook pass this new level in his game.

“I know guys, I’m sorry but-” you were cut off as Tae rushed into the room and gently pulled you away from the bed.

“Come on! We haven’t hung out in forever!” You stayed quiet and allowed him to pull you to the door, the sound of someone clearing their throat reminding you of the fourth person in the room.

“You guys can’t just take her,” Jungkook complained, “we were in the middle of a game.”

“You’ve been hanging out with her all week Kook, it’s our turn,” Jimin finally spoke up again. With that you found yourself being dragged to the living room, leaving behind a confused and slightly annoyed Jungkook.

“Um guys,” you called out softly, “that was kind of rude don’t you think?” You understood that you cancelled on your plans, but they didn’t have to barge in like that. They both froze and turned to you, their expressions reminding you of lost puppies.

“We miss you,” Jimin whined, “just one movie and then you can go back to hanging out with Jungkook okay?” You sighed a bit, pulling out your phone to glance at the time before nodding. It was still fairly early, what harm could one movie do? One movie quickly turned into two and then an entire marathon as you ended up getting engrossed into the stories. The boys having chosen a series they knew you hadn’t seen so that you would be forced to stay and watch the whole thing. It also helped that Jungkook stayed locked in his room the entire time, likely just going back to his game without you. By the time the final credits rolled, it was nearly midnight and you were half asleep.

“Oh boy, that late already?” you muttered with a yawn. Grabbing your phone, you checked the time again and groaned as you forced yourself to stand up. You had work in the morning and if you didn’t leave now you would likely end up passing out at the dorms. “I’m going to head out,” you said, “tell Jungkook I said goodbye please?” Taehyung nodded and stood up as well to walk you to the door, Jimin staying on the couch as he switched the tv to some random reality show.

“Will do,” Tae replied, “goodnight Y/N.” He waited until you got into your car before closing the door and returning to the couch with Jimin. Jungkook ended up confronting his hyungs a few minutes later. Leaning against the wall and waiting until you left the dorm to make his presence known. “What was that all about?” he asked as he stepped into the room and took a seat in one of the armchairs. The two older members paled a bit but kept a blank expression as they acknowledged the other.

“What was what?” Jimin asked, feigning indifference. Now Jungkook was getting even more annoyed. First, they interrupted your time together and now they want to act like they didn’t do anything wrong?

“You know what,” he groaned, “you knew Y/N and I had plans already. Why did you burst in and drag her away like that?” Neither one really knew how to answer that, not wanting to admit their jealousy, but also knowing that lying would get them nowhere. Their silence was definitely not helping their case either.

“To be fair,” Taehyung finally spoke up after a moment, “we had plans with her first.” Jungkook looked confused for a moment before realization finally hit him.

“You’re telling me you dragged her away because you got jealous that she canceled your plans to hang out with me instead?” Neither one responded, but their sudden guilty expressions gave Jungkook his answer. Groaning, he threw his head back and took a deep breath, “That has to be the dumbest thing I have ever heard.”

“This isn’t the first time it’s happened, you two have been together practically every day for the past three weeks while we’ve been here alone,” Jimin defended.

“So? Maybe Y/N enjoys being able to spend time with someone else. It’s not always about you two, I’m her friend as well!” Jungkook bit his lip to keep from raising his voice, though his tense posture made it very clear that he was frustrated.

“It’s not always about you either,” Taehyung argued, “we’re her best friends, have been since high school. It’s not fair that we get pushed aside while you get all of the attention.” This whole argument was childish and all three of them knew it. You were a grown woman and you had the right to chose who you did and did not want to spend time with. Still, they were stubborn and it was clear that neither side was willing to back down. What followed for the next five minutes was an awkwardly silent staring contest until finally, Jungkook gave in.

“Fine, but you’re not the only one who can play that game,” with that he stood up and went back to his room. Taehyung and Jimin glanced at the door briefly before looking back at each other and smirking. Indeed, three could play at that game.

To say you were confused would be quite an understatement. One minute everything was going great and the next everyone was acting strange. Well, stranger than usual considering your best friends. You hadn’t seen any of the boys in about a week due to an upcoming work project, but the boys had still spammed you with texts any chance they were free. It seemed that whenever one would message you, the others would as well. They kept asking when you were free and you kept responding that you had to finish your work before you could hang out, then the cycle continued again the next day. On top of that, they were constantly stopping by your apartment for one reason or another. Usually, they would only pop in for a minute or two just to check-in, but there was one evening where Jungkook ended up staying over for dinner. Only for Taehyung and Jimin to appear the next morning and not leave until you had to physically kick them out to allow you to work. As strange as it was, you figured it was just the guys being bored since it was their off-season and didn’t think too much of it. You were sitting at your dining room table working on your laptop when you heard a knock at your door. Confused, since you weren’t expecting anyone at this hour, you decided to just ignore it. Maybe they had the wrong apartment, that or it was your neighbor and you honestly didn’t feel like talking to them right now. Unfortunately, the knocking continued and even got louder the more you ignored it. Eventually, you gave up and hesitantly got up from your spot. Your back ached in protest from being hunched over as you walked over to the door, opening it to see none other than Taehyung and Jimin. They were carrying bags of takeout and smiling widely as they let themselves in.

“What are you guys doing here?” you asked as you closed the door. The boys smiled as they set the bags on the table.

“We know you’ve been working all day,” Jimin said, “so we thought we’d bring you dinner!” Taehyung nodded as he grabbed one of the boxes and took a seat across from where your stuff was, it was clear that they weren’t planning on leaving.

“Um thanks, guys,” you said hesitantly, “but I really need to get this done and I can’t really afford any distractions.” Both boys looked visibly disappointed which made you feel a bit bad about rejecting them, but you held your ground.

“We’ll only be here a minute,” Taehyung argued.

“At least have dinner with us and then we’ll leave you alone!” Jimin added. You wanted to argue, but you were much too tired so you eventually just gave in.

“Fine,” you agreed, “but only for a bit.” The boys smiled as you took your seat and grabbed the last box and took your seat, nudging your laptop out of the way so you didn’t accidentally ruin everything. It was silent for all of two seconds before the boys were bombarding you with questions.

“So, Y/N, how was your day?”

“How is work going?”

“Are you going to be free this weekend?”

“We were thinking of planning a game night if you are.” It took everything in your power not to groan and throw them out. You loved these two, you really did, but you didn’t know how much more clinging you could take.

“I need to have this done by Friday, so I really can’t afford to take any more time off,” you hinted. Friday was only two days away and you still had so much to do. Having the boys on top of you 24/7 didn’t help much either. It seemed the boys only heard you saying you would be done by Friday though, as they practically jumped up from their seats.

“Perfect!” Jimin exclaimed, “we can plan our game night for Saturday then since you won’t be busy!” If your eyes could roll any harder you were sure you’d be able to see the back of your head. Still, you agreed, partially to get them to leave and also because a game night did sound kind of fun.

“Fine, I’ll be over Saturday night okay? I’ll even bring food to pay you guys back for this,” you bargained. The boys thought it over for a moment before nodding. You were beyond thankful that they hadn’t found anything to argue with you about.

As promised, they left a few minutes after you all finished eating, reminding you about Saturday before closing the door. You let out a tired sigh as you fell back into your chair, quickly turning your laptop back on so you could continue where you left off. Even though you were annoyed by the sudden interruption, you also had to admit that having food in your system made it much easier to concentrate. It only lasted for maybe an hour though before the sound of your phone vibrating snapped your attention away from the screen yet again. “What now?” you muttered as you flipped the mobile device over. Seeing a text from Jungkook asking if you were free to hang out this weekend, you sighed for what had to be the millionth time that night.

‘Tae and Jiminie invited me to a game night on Saturday.’ you texted back, getting a reply almost immediately.

‘Oh :( I was hoping we could play games.’

‘Why can’t we all just play games?’ It took him longer to text back this time which was odd, but you tried not to dwell on it as you went back to work. Another 15 minutes passed before you heard your phone go off again.

‘I guess so…see you Saturday.’ Odd, but at least you could rest easy knowing that you had two days of silence to finally get your work done. You could deal with your friends strange behavior when you went to hang out.

Saturday came a lot quicker than expected and you were actually very excited. You submitted your finished project with a few hours to spare and you had spent the rest of the day relaxing so you could have all your energy for spending time with your best friends. They also stopped messaging and randomly popping over after your text conversation, you assumed so you could focus better. You stepped out of your car and made your way up to the dorm, knocking a few times before using your key to let yourself in. Immediately you were greeted with all three boys sitting in the living room, various games and snacks scattered all over the coffee table. Whatever they were talking about was quickly forgotten as they all turned to face you.

“Y/N!” they all exclaimed, jumping up to greet you. You laughed a bit as you hugged all three of them individually. Each hug seemed to last longer than the last but you didn’t seem to notice.

“Come on!” Tae urged, pulling you so you were sitting between him and Jimin, much to Jungkooks dismay. “We couldn’t decide on what game to play first so maybe you could choose for us?” Tae pointed at one game while Jungkook pointed at another. It was becoming increasingly obvious to you now that there was tension between the three, but you didn’t know why.

“Umm why don’t we start with this one?” you suggested as you pointed to the game Jungkook was suggesting. Seeing the hurt look on the other two you quickly added, “I mean, it’s shorter so we can start with that and finish with your guys’ choice right?” That didn’t come off as very convincing, but you didn’t hear any objections as you set the game up. If anything, your explanation only seemed to upset Jungkook as well.

This silent competition between the boys only grew as you guys played. From offering you snacks to having you argue who broke the rules, to even letting you cheat to upset the other. Eventually, you had enough of this and threw down the bag of chips you were holding, immediately catching everyone’s attention. “Alright enough!” you exclaimed, “what is going on with you three?” They all looked scared and a little confused as they glanced at you, but no one said anything. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you spoke again, “You guys have been like this all week. Whenever one of you does something the other will copy, and now you’re fighting over a game. Is there something I missed?” It was Jungkook who finally spoke up after what felt like an eternity of awkward silence.

“Who do you enjoy spending time with more?” he asked, catching you completely off guard. Jimin noticed your confusion and immediately stepped in to explain.

“You started canceling on us to spend time with Jungkook.”

“But then you started canceling on me to hang out with them,” Jungkook quickly added, ignoring the glare he got.

“So who do you like more?” Taehyung asked. You were honestly speechless, all the past incidents from the last week or so starting to make sense. The boys were jealous because you weren’t distributing your time evenly between them. You didn’t know whether to laugh or yell at the realization.

“Let me get this straight,” you started, “this whole mess was done because you guys were jealous?” Before any of them could speak up to defend themselves, your laughter cut them off, “That has to be the most immature thing I’ve ever heard. Why didn’t you guys just talk to me about it?”

“In our defense, you were pretty clueless,” Taehyung defended. Realizing how serious they were, you sighed and shook your head.

“Look guys, I’m sorry that I didn’t manage my time better. It was wrong of me to cancel plans to hang out with another member. You should have told me instead of whatever this rivalry was. You guys are friends too and I don’t see why we can’t all hang out as a group.” They didn’t look completely convinced so you continued, “not all the time of course. There will be days I want to spend time with Jimin and Tae and there will be times when I want to spend time with Jungkook. That doesn’t make me any less of a friend.” Hesitantly they all nodded, glancing at each other with a guilty look.

“We’re sorry Noona,” Jungkook apologized, causing you to smile.

“Come on! Now that we’re all friends again, let’s finish the game!”

Requests for BTS are open!

Any and all interaction and feedback is greatly appreciated!

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uraharashouten · 2 years

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Thoughts on Hōgyoku Construction

Recently this post about Yuzu got me thinking about Quincy anomalies.

And I do have to wonder about Yuzu's potential role in empowering Ichigo and Karin's spiritual abilities, while she herself hasn't manifested any... but that's beyond the scope of this blog. Do you know what else is good at manifesting powers in others? The Hōgyoku.

@rangikuxmatsumoto has some interesting thoughts about what AIzen took from Rangiku, which is revealed in the CFYOW novels to be a Soul King fragment. One is the possibility that he didn't manage to extract the entire shard, which may be why Rangiku survived with as much reiryoku as she has. Another is that the piece he collected from her may have been the first piece of his Hōgyoku, the part around which he constructed it— which then became its core.

So if that's the case—if Hōgyokus are built around Soul King shards... where did Kisuke get his?

We really don't know when Kisuke began research and development on the Hōgyoku, but it was some time before or during TBTP. I like to place it earlier than that, since his interest in it seemed to be around Hollowfication research, which was once allowed but later condemned. And forgive me, but I don't buy AIzen's claim that he developed his first. So my thought is that Kisuke could have begun studying and experimenting with what would become the core of his Hōgyoku anytime in the prior century, and perhaps earlier.

Considering Soul King fragments made their way into all kinds of souls, why not some Quincy as well? Suppose one found its way into one of these Quincy anomalies, one would could bestow powers? And suppose Kisuke came across such a Quincy, some two centuries ago, and noticed this special element in their soul. Perhaps during the Purge, before their soul slipped away to Yhwach's bosom, he simply... helped himself to that fragment.

And how would he do that? With his technique for extracting things harmlessly from konpaku, of course. What if that was his original reason for developing it?

Back to Aizen: if, in fact, he began with an incomplete Soul King shard, it could serve to explain why his Hōgyoku itself was incomplete. Meanwhile, Kisuke's was working as intended... he simply didn't realize it. (Careful what you wish for.)

Requiring a Soul King fragment for a Hōgyoku core would also explain why Kisuke seems so cagey about making another one. Those don't just grow on trees, you know; they're embedded in souls. And while Tokinada and Aizen might not have minded breaking some eggs to make that omelet... Kisuke would.

tl;dr: For the purposes of this roleplay blog, the core of Kisuke's Hōgyoku is a Soul King shard... taken from an anomalous Quincy who would no longer be needing it.

#[[ he may be the type to sell your organs after you die but not before ]]#[[ headcanon ]]#[[ muse: Kisuke ]]#[[ credit to Ducky and Courtney for getting this train of thought rolling! ]]

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langstaffandsloan · 10 months

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Knob and Tube Wiring: Understand the Past and Prepare for the Future

In the world of electrical systems, technology has evolved rapidly over the years, bringing us safer and more efficient methods of powering our homes and buildings. However, remnants of the past can still be found in some older properties, such as knob and tube wiring. While knob and tube wiring was once a popular choice for electrical installations, it has since become outdated and poses potential risks. In this article, we will delve into the history of knob and tube wiring, explore its limitations, and discuss the steps you can take to ensure a safer electrical future.

Knob and tube wiring, also known as open wiring, was commonly used from the late 19th century to the early 20th century. It consisted of individual conductors, typically copper, that were run through porcelain insulating tubes and supported by porcelain knobs. This method of electrical installation provided a means to bring electricity to homes and buildings when it was still a relatively new concept.

While knob and tube wiring played a crucial role in electrifying properties at the time, it has several limitations that make it unsuitable for modern electrical needs. One significant concern is its lack of grounding. Knob and tube wiring typically consists of two separate wires, one for hot and one for neutral, without a grounding conductor. This absence of grounding increases the risk of electrical shock and makes it challenging to meet the safety standards required for today's electrical systems.

Another issue with knob and tube wiring is its insulation. Over time, the original insulation materials used in knob and tube wiring can deteriorate, become brittle, or be damaged by rodents or other factors. This degradation can expose the live wires and increase the risk of electrical arcing, leading to potential fire hazards. Furthermore, knob and tube wiring is not designed to handle the electrical demands of modern appliances and devices, such as air conditioners, computers, or high-powered electronics. Overloading the system can result in overheating and pose a fire risk.

If you own or are considering purchasing a property with knob and tube wiring, it is crucial to address these concerns and take steps to ensure safety. Here are some recommended actions:

Consult with a qualified electrician: It is essential to consult with a licensed electrician who has experience working with older electrical systems. They can inspect the wiring, assess its condition, and provide expert advice on the best course of action.

Consider rewiring: In many cases, the best solution is to replace knob and tube wiring with a modern electrical system that meets current safety standards. Complete rewiring ensures the electrical system is safe, reliable, and capable of meeting the demands of modern appliances and technology.

Install GFCIs: Ground Fault Circuit Interrupters (GFCIs) can be installed on circuits served by knob and tube wiring to provide an added layer of protection against electrical shock. GFCIs detect imbalances in electrical currents and quickly shut off power to prevent harm.

Avoid DIY modifications: It is crucial to avoid making any modifications or repairs to knob and tube wiring yourself. Improper alterations can compromise the system's integrity and increase the risk of electrical hazards. Always rely on trained professionals for any electrical work.

Educate yourself: Understanding the limitations and risks associated with knob and tube wiring is essential for your safety. Educate yourself about the signs of deterioration or damage, and be proactive in addressing any concerns promptly.

In conclusion, knob and tube wiring may have served its purpose in the past, but it is no longer suitable for modern electrical needs. Its lack of grounding, outdated insulation, and limited capacity pose safety risks and can lead to potential fire hazards. If you own a property with knob and tube wiring, it is essential to consult with a qualified electrician and take appropriate actions to ensure the safety of your electrical system. By understanding the past and preparing for the future, you can enjoy a safer and more reliable electrical system in your home or building.

#knob and tube wiring #knob and tube

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tabby-shieldmaiden · 2 years

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I've been meaning to ask; your WIP has a character that's trying to redeem herself but she did awful things. How would you say other characters in fiction compare?

Personally, I can't stand characters like the Diamonds or Shigaraki Dabi and Toga because they're written too sympathetically and their redemptions feel unearned.

Well, firstly, I have never watched MHA and haven't watched Steven Universe since I was like, 13, so I honestly don't think I can meaningfully compare my WIP to the examples you have given.

Secondly, I... actually don't have plans to publish this particular WIP. For a while, I published a couple of chapters because I thought that publishing it out serially would give me the motivation to stick with a project for a long time. But after a while, I found myself writing for it even without publishing it. The original intent of this particular story was to prove to myself that I could stick to writing one long original story instead of just short stories and fanfiction. When I finish this particular story, I don't have plans to edit it or do much of anything with it (at least for a while), because when I finish it it would have served its purpose. No one will read the completed project, at least not without several more drafts.

But since you are curious, I'll talk about this story. In the story, my protagonist assassinated several people after getting indoctrinated into a cult as a kid. She eventually got out, and over the course of the story she ends up working alongside a heroic group where she 1) learns how truly shitty the actions of her cult (and by extension, the establishment the cult was venerating) were, how many people they hurt, and 2) tries to do some good and right some wrongs.

If you wanted to know if forgiveness comes easy to her, well, the answer would be no. A lot of people were hurt by her actions, and there are people in the heroic group who really would not want anything to do with her if they could help it. But like. This isn't really a story about forgiveness. And like, I don't like the fact that so many discussions around 'redemption' in media are focused around whether or not a character is 'forgiven'. Forgiveness from others really is only one aspect of the redemption process (which really is a process; there's a lot to unpack under the concept of 'redemption'!). And there are aspects of the idea of 'redemption' that I find more interesting than whether or not a character is 'forgiven' by others. When I first set out to write this, I didn't want to only think about who deserved or earned or owed whoever what; some things aren't solely about 'deserved' or 'earned' or 'owed', and reducing them to that would be greatly simplifying disturbingly complex things.

I have a sort of, secondary protagonist who is hardcore reparative and restorative in her ideals of justice. She spends some time vouching for the protagonist out of a belief that she can truly change. And that providing her an avenue for doing good would be a good way to help make sure she doesn't do anything terrible again, and that she helps to try and repair some of the wrongs she has done in the past in some way. And I feel like, if I were to write another story that I would publish online that tackles the same themes, I would like to focus on a character like that. Probably not this particular character, but like. Some sort of character similar in her ideals for reparative justice. Maybe this sort of character would also have done ugly things, maybe she would also be in some ways, a victim. It's very possible to be both, after all. And I think after writing what I have written for this particular story, I think I would more easily be able to talk about what I would like to talk about re:justice and redemption through such a character.

But like, that's an idea I'll need to sit with and stew on for a little longer. It's a gem of an idea. And it will need its time to grow.

#asks #anon #my wip

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biggest-gaudiest-patronuses · 3 years

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if something you do for fun is making you stressed & anxious, it is time to take a break and spend time unwinding with something you actually find relaxing

#not a shitpost #yes this includes fandoms and internet spaces #but also video games or sports or books or literally any hobby #sometimes things you do to relax evolve into something more serious #sometimes things that we do just for fun end up turning competitive #there's a natural human urge to challenge yourself and that's fine!#as long as what you're doing still has value to you personally--go for it!#but since it's no longer serving its original purpose you need to also make time for other things that DO #i.e. hobbies that give you a calm space to relax in #because that is a basic human need

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fatliberation · 3 years

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I’m Abandoning Body Positivity and Here’s Why

In short: it’s fatphobic.

“A rallying cry for a shift in societal norms has now become the skinny girl’s reassurance that she isn’t really fat. Fatness, through this lens of ‘body positivity’, remains the worst thing a person can be.” (Kayleigh Donaldson)

• • •

I have always had a lot of conflicting opinions about the body positivity movement, but it’s much more widely known (and accepted, go figure) than the fat liberation movement, so I often used the two terms interchangeably in conversation about anti-fatness. But the longer I’ve been following the body positivity movement, the more I’ve realized how much it has strayed from its fat lib origins. It has been hijacked; deluded to center thin, able, white, socially acceptable bodies.

Bopo’s origins are undoubtedly grounded in fat liberation. The fat activists of the 1960s paved the way for the shred of size acceptance we see in media today, initially protesting the discrimination and lack of access to equal opportunities for fat people specifically. This early movement highlighted the abuse, mental health struggles, malpractice in the medical field, and called for equal pay, equal access, equal respect, an end to fatphobic structures and ideas. It saddens me that it hasn’t made much progress in those regards.

Today, the #bopo movement encapsulates more the idea of loving your own body versus ensuring that individuals regardless of their weight and appearance are given equal opportunities in the workplace, schools, fashion and media. Somehow those demands never made it outside of the ‘taboo’ category, and privileged people would much more readily accept the warm and fuzzy, sugar-coated message of “love yourself!” But as @yrfatfriend once said, this idea reduces fat people’s struggles to a problem of mindset, rather than a product of external oppressors that need to be abolished in order for fat people to live freely.

That generalized statement, “love yourself,” is how a movement started by fat people for the rights of fat people was diluted so much, it now serves a thin model on Instagram posting about how she has a tummy roll and cellulite on her thighs - then getting praised for loving her body despite *gasp!* its minor resemblance to a fat body.

Look. Pretty much everyone has insecurities about their bodies, especially those of us who belong to marginalized groups. If you don’t have body issues, you’re a privileged miracle, but our beauty-obsessed society has conditioned us to want to look a certain way, and if we have any features that the western beauty standard considers as “flaws,” yeah! We feel bad about it! So it’s not surprising that people who feel bad about themselves would want to hop on a movement that says ‘hey, you’re beautiful as you are!’ That’s a message everyone would like to hear. Any person who has once thought of themselves as less than beautiful now feels that this movement is theirs. And everyone has insecurities, so everyone feels entitled to the safe space. And when a space made for a minority includes the majority, the cycle happens again and the majority oppresses the minority. What I’m trying to explain here is that thin people now feel a sense of ownership over body positive spaces.

Regardless of how badly thin people feel about their bodies, they still experience thin privilege. They can sit down in a theater or an airplane without even thinking about it, they can eat in front of others without judgement, they can go the doctor with a problem and actually have it fixed right away, they can find cute clothes in their size with ease, they do not suffer from assumptions of laziness/failure based on stereotype, they see their body type represented everywhere in media, the list goes on and on. They do not face discrimination based off of the size of their body.

Yet diet culture and fatphobia affects everyone, and of course thin people do still feel bad about the little fat they have on their bodies. But the failure to examine WHY they feel bad about it, is what perpetuates fatphobia within the bopo movement. They’re labeled “brave” for showing a pinch of chub, yet fail to address what makes it so acceptably daring, and how damaging it is to people who are shamed for living in fat bodies. Much like the rest of society, thin body positivity is still driven by the fear of fat, and does nothing to dismantle fatphobia within structures or within themselves.

Evette Dionne sums it up perfectly in her article, “The Fragility of Body Positivity: How a Radical Movement Lost Its Way.”

“The body-positive media economy centers these affirming, empowering, let-me-pinch-a-fat-roll-to-show-how-much-I-love-myself stories while failing to actually challenge institutions to stop discriminating against fat people. More importantly, most of those stories center thin, white, cisgender, heterosexual women who have co-opted the movement to build their brands. Rutter has labeled this erasure ‘Socially Acceptable Body Positivity.’

“On social media, it actually gets worse for fat bodies: We’re not just being erased from body positivity, fat women are being actively vilified. Health has become the stick with which to beat fat people with [sic], and the benchmark for whether body positivity should include someone” (Dionne).

Ah, yes. The medicalization of fat bodies, and the moralization of health. I’ve ranted about this before. Countless comments on posts of big women that say stuff like “I’m all for body positivity, but this is just unhealthy and it shouldn’t be celebrated.” I’ve heard writer/activist Aubrey Gordon once say that body positivity has become something like a shield for anti-fatness. It’s anti-fatness that has been repackaged as empowerment. It’s a striking double-standard. Fat people are told to be comfortable in their bodies (as if that’s what’s going to fix things) but in turn are punished when they’re okay with being fat. Make it make sense.

Since thin people feel a sense of ownership over body positive spaces, and they get to hide behind “health” when they are picking and choosing who can and cannot be body positive, they base it off of who looks the most socially acceptable. And I’m sure they aren’t consciously picking and choosing, it comes from implicit bias. But the socially acceptable bodies they center are small to medium fat, with an hourglass shape. They have shaped a new beauty standard specifically FOR FAT PEOPLE. (Have you ever seen a plus sized model with neck fat?? I’m genuinely asking because I have yet to find one!) The bopo movement works to exclude and silence people who are on the largest end of the weight spectrum.

Speaking of exclusion, let’s talk about fashion for a minute.

For some reason, (COUGH COUGH CAPITALISM) body positivity is largely centered around fashion. And surprise surprise, it’s still not inclusive to fat people. Fashion companies get a pat on the back for expanding their sizing two sizes up from what they previously offered, when they are still leaving out larger fat people completely. In general, clothing companies charge more for clothes with more fabric, so people who need the largest sizes are left high and dry. It’s next to impossible to find affordable clothes that also look nice. Fashion piggybacks on the bopo movement as a marketing tactic, and exploits the very bodies it claims to be serving. (Need I mention the time Urban Outfitters used a "curvy” model to sell a size it doesn’t even carry?)

The movement also works to exclude and silence fat Black activists.

In her article, “The Body Positivity Movement Both Takes From and Erases Fat Black Women” Donyae Coles explains how both white people and thin celebrities such as Jameela Jamil profit from the movement that Black women built.

“Since long before blogging was a thing, fat Black women have been vocal about body acceptance, with women like Sharon Quinn and Marie Denee, or the work of Sonya Renee Taylor with The Body Is Not An Apology. We’ve been out here, and we’re still here, but the overwhelming face of the movement is white and thin because the mainstream still craves it, and white and thin people have no problem with profiting off the work of fat, non-white bodies.”

“There is a persistent belief that when thin and/or white people enter the body positive realm and begin to repeat the messages that Black women have been saying for years in some cases, when they imitate the labor that Black women have already put in that we should be thankful that they are “boosting” our message. This completely ignores the fact that in doing so they are profiting off of that labor. They are gaining the notoriety, the mark of an expert in something they learned from an ignored Black woman” (Coles).

My next essay will go into detail about this and illuminate key figures who paved the way for body acceptance in communities of color.

The true purpose of this movement has gotten completely lost. So where the fuck do we go from here?

We break up with it, and run back to the faithful ex our parents disapproved of. We go back to the roots of the fat liberation movement, carved out for us by the fat feminists, the queer fat activists, the fat Black community, and the allies it began with. Everything they have preached since the 1960s and 70s is one hundred percent applicable today. We get educated. We examine diet culture through a capitalist lens. We tackle thin, white-supremacist systems and weight based discrimination, as well as internalized bias. We challenge our healthcare workers to unlearn their bias, treat, and support fat patients accordingly. We make our homes and spaces accessible and welcoming to people of any size, or any (dis)ability. “We must first protect and uplift people in marginalized bodies, only then can we mandate self-love” (Gordon).

Think about it. In the face of discrimination, mistreatment, and emotional abuse, we as a society are telling fat people to love their bodies, when we should be putting our energy toward removing those fatphobic ideas and structures so that fat people can live in a world that doesn’t require them to feel bad about their bodies. It’s like hitting someone with a rock and telling them not to bruise!

While learning to love and care for the body that you’re in is important, I think that body positivity also fails in teaching that because it puts even more emphasis on beauty. Instead of saying, “you don’t have to be ‘beautiful’ to be loved and appreciated,” its main lesson is that “all bodies are beautiful.” We live in a society obsessed with appearance, and it is irresponsible to ignore the hierarchy of beauty standards that exist in every space. Although it should be relative, “beautiful” has been given a meaning. And that meaning is thin, abled, symmetric, and eurocentric.

Beauty and ugliness are irrelevant, made-up constructs. People will always be drawn to you no matter what, so you deserve to exist in your body without struggling to conform to an impossible and bigoted standard. Love and accept your body for YOURSELF AND NO ONE ELSE, because you do not exist to please the eyes of other people. That’s what I wish we were teaching instead. Radical self acceptance!

As of today, the ultimate message of the body positivity movement is: Love your body “despite its imperfections.” Or people with “perfect and imperfect bodies both deserve love.” As long as we are upholding the notion that there IS a perfect body that looks a certain way, and every body that falls outside of that category is imperfect, we are upholding white supremacy, eugenics, anti-fatness, and ableism.

#body positivity #bopo #body posi #body positive #body acceptance #fat acceptance #fat activism #fat liberation #anti fatness #anti blackness #anti fat bias #lookism #beauty standards #self acceptance

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jjungkooksthighs · 3 years

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Claws of Carnality | jjk (8)

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: smut, fluff and angst, abo/werewolf!au, soulmate!au, fantasy!au

Rating: 18+ / nsfw

Word Count: 7.8k we really can’t ever have a short chapter around here smh

Summary: Alacrity augments you in the aftermath of your alpha’s perfervid performance and in his subsequent summoning of you, neither of you can stave off sin from overwhelming you in the desire for each other that consumingly captures the wolf and his mate.

Warnings: alpha!jungkook, possessive!jungkook, jealous!jungkook, dom!jungkook, sub! reader, omega!reader, mentions of breeding/ruts/heats, mentions of blood, slick and pre-ejaculatory production, scenting, dirty talk (lbr I love that shit), praising, fingering (just a smidge), grinding, fellatio (cock sucking), cock worship (just a bit), breast/nipple play, nipping, sucking, begging, muscle kink, scratching, cum eating, manhandling, cursing, wet and messy sex (kind of), size kink, hair pulling, impreg kink, dual orgasms

A/N: So, this chapter took a bit longer to get out due to graduate applications, schoolwork and inclement weather that took out my Wi-Fi, lol. It also went through a series of deletions because I felt self-conscious after the original posting of chapter seven, but eventually, it came along to what I had pictured in my mind despite the rework to the style of this chapter that I hoped to make easier for you guys to read with lessened uses of terminology/vocabulary. Also, I’m not the best at writing this type of smut, so please go easy on me!

Oh, and the gif that you guys see at the top? That’s Jungkook’s outfit inspiration for what he wears at the end of the chapter. :)

As always, please share with me your thoughts about my work! There is no greater reward to writing than seeing what your readers think of what you spent so much time to create. I am eager to know what you guys make of my story, so please don’t hesitate to let me know what your thoughts are because I love to hear it!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9

Meekness muddies you in the solid substratum of it that settles over your throat as you try to keep from liquifying under your alpha’s scorching gaze that leaves no part of you unscoured by its high heat.

It muffles you to a mutter as you struggle to swallow what little spittle has not dried up in your mouth at the parching sight of him as you manage, “Alpha….what are you doing?”

There had been something else you’d wanted to ask him, but in the roots that tangle thoughts around him, your perception is twisted by your peripheral field that extends only for the half nude man that looks fixedly at you.

Jungkook smirks before cocking his head to the side in quick movement in a display of avid amusement before he utters, “Is it not obvious to you, pretty? I’m stripping and shedding myself of the clothing I wore to entice you. It has served its purpose,” He turns to pierce you with a dark glare as he leans back on the wooden table behind him, the burled brawn of his arms bearing his weight as he leans back on them while his supple skin shines with the sweat that sluices it as he taunts, “I no longer require them here. Others may look at me, but no one but you, my mate, shall ever be able to touch me.”

You whine a that, your silver irises interspersed with golden streaks shimmering over him as they sliver down from perfectly plump lips that have spoken such sweet nothings to you and bedecked you in his brand as your hand absentmindedly rises to lay over the purpled petal he’d made ascend amidst the garden of you in his efforts to tend to his terrace.

You trail your visage over to the Adam’s apple that juts proudly out from the column of his neck, an irrational urge sprouting to life within you in the need to nip it for daring to sweetly stick out like the ripest berry from the sturdiest stem you’ve ever laid your eyes upon.

You lick at your dried lips that are not slicked against the tongue that tries to wet them from the arid desert of your mouth that your alpha radiates away from you as your sight slides lower until it settles over the bodacious bough of his chest that branches brashly with muscles along every inch of him, your fingers twitching in remembrance of how strong and sinewy he’d been under your digits as you’d brushed them against him.

When your sight drops along the thatched thighs that the fabric strains stiffly against in its stretch over them, a picturesque memory of what you’d done atop of one of them paints colorfully itself in your mind.

Its vibrant vividity has you biting your tongue to keep from releasing another sound as your cheeks turn themselves red like the rose you are to him while your alpha grins at the vivacious view of you, wholly intrigued by the spectacle that is you as you struggle against the slump that soon has you falling back against the door as you whimper in the damning distance between you and your alpha that takes him away from you far too much.

“Jungkook,” you imploringly plead.

Your alpha chuckles at that to push off the vanity behind him with no effort at all before he strides over to the chaise lounge made from the leather of aged cattle against the timbered wall. He is slow in the languid lowering of himself over it, his back resting against the arm of the piece of furniture as he husks, “Bring yourself over to me, pretty,” his voice deepens before one hand rises, his fingers curling inward in a come-hither motion that has your heart stuttering in the excitement electrifying it as he orders, “Come and sit on your alpha’s lap, my omega, and tell to me all that you thought of my performance that was devoted solely to you.”

In the scarlet moonlight crimson as blood that drips like wax from a never burning candle’s wick from the glass window behind him, the color sinfully stains him in a dangerous sheen of a garnet glow that emanates effervescently off him in everything that promises impurity as his eyes glint goadingly at you from around the blackened wisps of his locks that have fallen around them.

As a creature that has only known chastity’s constraining shackles your whole life in your wait for your mate, you very much want them to be crushed under your alpha’s heel, for he has already caused them to crack amidst the sweet pleasure he’s delivered to you in the forest and in the sanctity of your own chambers.

As if caught in his unyielding undercurrent, your body moves under his watery sway that sweeps you forth. Perhaps it is the omega in you that is utterly unable to resist temptation taking its form in Jungkook. Maybe it is the inescapably inexorable draw to him that paws at you to be near to him lest you incur its fangs if he is absent and away from you.

Conceivably, it could be both that have you pad forward without pause as he watches you with interest while you move, his golden irises never drifting from your own as a wave of heat falls over them and, in your undertow he’s surrounded you in, it washes over you, too.

Once you stand before him, he makes a sound of appreciation as he appraises you attentively.

One hand sinks under the furs that hide you from him, each finger suggestively sidling up along your waist while the other palm joins it on the other side as you close your eyes while your arms wrap around his muscled shoulders, his calloused and strong digits dipping deliciously over your soft skin as he hums, “Mmm, that’s a good girl. I like it when you’re obedient like this. You’re so receptive to me already, pretty,” His hands sensuously slide downward, his fingers streaming outward like a consumingly surrounding sea that washes you over in his thrilling touch while he splays his legs out before, all in one fluid motion, he pulls you forward until you fall like the tide over his hips as each of your legs pools on either side of him only for him to smirk as he amusedly muses, “So responsive to me, too, my mate. You do not resist me at all. You’re so willing to submit, aren’t you, sweetling?”

Not prepared for the sudden shift in position, you gasp in surprise, your eyes shooting open to be submerged by his golden irises beginning to seep with the licentious lust that dooms you in their dusky dimness. They beckon you to lose yourself in his deep depths, one hand diving under the thin terrain of your gown only for him to trickle the phalanges of his fingers along the soft skin of your leg. He’s unrushed and unhurried as his digits drip their warmth over you to flow over your ankle through his ascent upward, his digits oozing along aqueously while his fingers spread outward like a tributary that must get its fill as he drags them ceaselessly along.

Your breath wells up in your lungs in the anticipation that swims there and when his hand torturously trails over your thigh only to brutishly, brutally halt his ministrations, that’s when you whine, your arms tightening around him as you lean forward to lay your forehead against his own as you whisper, “Please, alpha.”

Your alpha croons, his index finger running in circles along the innermost part of your leg that borders along the sex that has not stopped crying for him since his performance as he says, “I know what you want, pretty. Do you want your alpha to take care of you again like I did in the forest? It would be so easy. I could make you fall apart so quickly with how readily you receive me, my mate,” His digit dribbles impossibly closer to where you want him most, a shaky breath falling from your lips as one of your own hands veers down over his chiseled chest, catching on all the defined muscles that ripple in its wake before it settles over his heart that beats briskly in the same time as your own that instantly stammers when his finger stops once more as you whimper out while your alpha’s eyes narrow, “Much as I wish to give to you what I know you desire, you’re going to answer to me before I do anything else, pretty. You have such a pretty voice. Use it for me, my mate.”

Your irises slip below to his lips that move so very precariously with how close you are to them and an urge soaks you to feel them, your other hand dowsing him in your touch as you draggle it along the back of his nape and up along his neck until your fingers tentatively trace the outline of them. You etch his rounder and fuller lower lip into your memory as you draw your digit around the upper one, entirely entranced by the cupid’s bow that crowns the middle of his top lip and the way that a long, pink tongue is swift to poke out of the mouth he parts for you in your exploration of him.

He laves it first along the bottom one to carefully coat it in saliva that gleams against the soft firelight that licks at your alpha from the corner of the chamber and when he dares to lap the muscle along the underside of your finger at the same time the palm on your thigh trails forbiddingly forth to cup your womanhood, you mewl.

The lewd sight stirs within you a hunger for that which only your alpha can sate.

It is as if his tongue are hands are the keys that unlocks the cage of words in your mind that he’d been the one to padlock there as you breathe, “I would very much like that, but you’ve been so good to me. You made me feel so wonderful in the forest and even dedicated that stunning performance to me that made me fall impossibly harder for you, my alpha,” you breathily profess while you pigment the column of his neck with the stain of your lips as you lightly graze your teeth along the notch you’d been staring at before to whisper, “You were so mesmerizing up on that stage while you danced for me. I’ve never seen a creature as enchanting as you were,” the hand that you’d left over his heart begins its journey anew as you veer toward the bulge in his pants that he unabashedly displays to you while you offer, “You’ve done so many other things that have exhibited your sentiments for me and I want to give you something in return. Please, let me show to you how special you make me feel, Jungkook.”

Your hand has barely even lain itself over his member that hardens at your very words before there’s a growl, your alpha’s hand extricating itself from between your legs to encircle around your dainty wrist as he roughly pulls it up and between the two of you before he warns, “Do not toy with me, my omega. Once you start, you’re going to finish, yeah? I can only control myself so much with you looking so goddamn beautiful for me while you’re on my lap like this.”

You lick your lips to whisper, “I have no intentions of playing with you, Jungkook. I only wish to please my alpha if he will allow me to indulge in him like I’ve wanted to for so very long,” you fully seat yourself on him, your clothed sex rubbing against him as you grind atop him while the hand on your waist bunches the fabric around it to draw it up and away from you to ease your access as your head dips down so that you can imbibe yourself of his taste after being denied it in the woodland, “I’m so parched, alpha…please, help me. You’re the only one that can.”

The moment your mouth ghosts over the sternocleidomastoid muscle along his neck and your breath warmly whisks itself over him, he releases you only for his hand to tangle in your hair as he rasps, “That’s right, my mate. No one but me can quench you like I can. You want to satisfy me, pretty?” His hips impetuously impulse upward against your own as he hisses, “Do it, then. I’ve been waiting long enough.”

Needing no further coaxing, you press your lips against him in a chaste, short osculation that earns a rumble from his throat in a sound that has you smiling against him as you string a line of wet kisses over him, your hips rolling atop the tented bulge that hardens inconceivably more under you as you moan at the delicious friction that cascades through you with every eddy of your hips along his member that is all too fast to try to escape his trousers.

Raptness for you floods his irises and it swells around you until you take one of his hands to delve under the furs that conceal you from him, his head falling back when you swirl your sex over him while you slide his fingers over the exposed sliver of skin between your breasts, his digits diving under the thin material of your bodice to palm at your tit as you sigh in satisfaction at the way his long, slender fingers sinfully swathe you in their hold.

Your alpha husks, “Gods, these tits were fucking made for this. They were made for me.”

“Yes, alpha…all for you,” you breathe as he kneads at your tit while you continue your expedition along the mountainous terrain of his chest and when he brings his lip between his teeth at the sight of your hooded gaze as you stare hungrily back at him, he watches the way that your irises flick toward the peaked summit of the same nipple that had taunted you from under the enclosure of the sheer shirt he’d worn to agonizingly afflict you earlier.

When you glance back at his eyes for permission, they flash dangerously at you and with a swivel of your hips that has him momentarily shutting his eyes, you seize your opportunity and enclose your mouth around the dark nipple to suckle at him only to earn a guttural groan from him as his back bows inward while his fingers dig into your hip at the same time that the digits in your hair curl inward to pull tightly as he utters, “Fuck, pretty. That feels amazing. Keep going, my omega. You’re making your alpha feel so good.”

Your wolf preens at the praise, your tongue daubing his tender areola in kittenish licks as you suction the sensitive skin between your lips, your other hand pawing at his pectoral while his thumb flitters over your own nipple only to have you quicken your pace as he strums you like an instrument atop of him.

You soon shift your attention to the other neglected bud, your lips enveloping him as he grunts with the way that you scuff your nails down his swollen peak while you twirl your tongue along the abandoned areola.

Distracted by your ministrations to his chest, your alpha does notice the way your hand seeps down his chest until it bears down over the fully hardened member to have him buck from underneath you. The movement jostles you atop him and, accidently, you nip at him only for him to pinch your own nipple between his fingers in punishment as you whimper.

Through it all, your hips do not cease their undulations over him as they continue to rotate rapturously around him, the pleasure too sweetly succulent as it glazes over you the longer that you lather yourself on him.

You are steadfast in your venturous voyage to discover more of your alpha as you frisk your tongue along the underside of his pec before continuing your descent toward the steep sierra that rises tall between his legs.

You hadn’t realized you’d been staring at his now engorged, edematous buds, but the fingers in your hair constrict around you to condense your vision only to golden irises that flare fiercely at you when he rumbles out, “Up here, pretty. I want to see your eyes while you use your mouth on me.”

“Yes, alpha,” you obediently reply as you press a hot, open-mouthed kiss over each of the eight abdominal muscles that comprise an impressive slew of sinew over the skin of his belly.

With the choker clasped around your neck, you can only go so far before it unforgivingly cuts into you and with one last sweep of your tongue along the ridges between his abs, you rise to plant your hands on his chest as he rolls your nipple expertly between two fingers, a moan tumbling from your lips as you grind with fervor over him.

Wanting him to feel just as pleasured as you are, you lay your palm flat over him, your fingers furling around him to give him a small squeeze that earns a groan him that is drawn out when you lean forward to drag your lips along the underside of his jaw that he presents to you under the light, soft brush of your mouth over him.

One of his hands finds itself under your chin, two fingers grasping your jaw as he pulls your chin up while he husks, “You really do want to please me, don’t you, pretty? If you want me that bad,” he sits up with you still sat on his lap, his eyes scintillating lethally as the pad of his thumb slides up to nudge along your lip, your saliva dripping and coating the digit that he uses to penetrate the warmth of your mouth that you close around him as he growls, “Get on your knees and take this cock into your mouth. Drink from me until you’re so full of me that you won’t wish for anything else to feed that thirsting desire within you.”

Under his command that sidles swelteringly through golden irises from under his locks, you shakily exhale when he extracts his finger from your mouth, each of you watching the way your spittle clasps itself to him before breaking off and falling between you.

You whine at the loss of him, but you know that you won’t leave you empty for long and the thought energetically bounds through you like a sylph springing through the air.

He easily lifts you from his lap and sets you on the carpeted floor, your limbs far too weak to support your weight without him as he helps you to fold your legs under you so that you sit on your heels like he’d ordered you to do.

A lagoon of fabric from your skirts profoundly puddles and spills outward around you as you stare at the bloated bulge in his trousers, your salivary glands secreting spit as your mouth waters at the prospect of what you’re about to do.

Your fingers fiddle with the linen lining the end of your alpha’s trousers, however, as diffidence coils around your ribs.

You have never pleasured a man with your mouth before, for it is a rule that such intimate practices are not to be engaged in unless a wolf has presented as either an alpha, omega or beta.

At your hesitance that is made palpable in the way that you chew at your lip, your alpha softens if only for a moment as he hunches over you, both hands laying along the sides of your jaw as his tone lightens when he asks, “What is it, pretty? Are you having second thoughts? It’s alright if you are. I would never have you do anything you didn’t want to do.”

His support only makes you want him more, for there is care that he’s imbued innately in each word that flowers within you under his reaching radiance.

His irises search your own beseechingly and you place your own palm atop of his as your cheeks redden with embarrassment that shyly quiets you to a whisper as you tentatively confess, “It’s just…it’s just that I’ve, well…I’ve never done this before. I want to satisfy you, alpha, but I just don’t know if I’ll be good at it or if I’ll even make you feel half as fulfilled as you did for me in the forest.”

Your alpha only smirks at that, his expression darkening damningly as understanding shadows him while he utters, “All the better for me, my omega,” He turns his hand to capture your fingers between his own as your digits intertwine with his own as he drifts your joined hands toward his weeping member, “The only cock you will learn to fuck with that little mouth of yours will be mine. You shall only know my knot on your tongue. I alone will gladly teach and instruct you on how to pleasure your mate, pretty.”

Familiar fire ignites in you as his promises plunder your being with anticipation. He strews your hand just above where his tip leaks through the linen before, with a scalding glance, one of his palms is crossed over the other and without pause, he trails them seductively slow up his thigh in a path that will drive him right where he needs it.

You watch, entirely engrossed, as fingers are rubbed against his member, a heaved breath forcing itself through ajar lips that follow with a clenched jaw as he rasps, “The first thing you would want to do is get me hard like this, pretty. I don’t have to be for you to take me in your mouth, but it’s better if you, ah-“ you spare no time in replacing his hands with one of your own, your fingers stroking him through the fabric as he groans, “-Yes, pretty, just like that. Shit. Take my cock out now. The pleasure is increased tenfold when there are no barriers that bar you from me.”

You obey, your breath hitching at his considerably large size once again as your alpha makes quick work of his soiled trousers.

Your ardent awaitment of him is not long when he sheds the last piece of clothing he’d had only for your eyes to widen as large as stars at the sight that greets you.

Your eyes widen in wonderment as you quietly gasp, “Alpha, it’s… it’s enormous. You’re magnificent, but,” you gulp as you stare, “do you think that will fit?”

Your alpha caresses your jaw as he coos, “It will fit if I wish it to. You were designed and created for me by the moon above, pretty. I know you can take me.”

Nestled between thick thighs, his sizeable shaft arcs upward like a crescent moon with constellated veins spanning through the sky of his skin, the bulbous head framing it all where it hovers over his abdominals like a planet that you’d very much like to explore yet have never seen before.

“Still, how are you even larger than before, Jungkook?” You blurt, your fingers dipping down to gingerly pad over him in your fascination of his behemoth dimensions as he bites down on his tongue to keep from bucking underneath you, for he does not want to startle you.

Between his legs, you stare at him with the eyes of a doe rather than a wolf from your inexperience that tucks your tail between your legs and he is intent on ensuring that nothing will deter you from venturing out into the field where he waits anxiously for you.

“This is what you do to me, pretty. You make me like this, for it is my need for you that makes me so much bigger to you than before. I have been denied of you for far too long, my omega,” his fingers enclose around your wrist as fervid fervor fills his irises before he orders, “Put your little hands around me, pretty. You can be as gentle, or as rough, as you wish.”

You do as he says, instantly wrapping your hands around him and then blinking innocently at him as you tilt your head to the side in question.

The moment your touch titillates him, his brows pull together in concentration, for your fingers are far smaller and more delicate than his own in their timidity that holds them back.

Despite it all, you are a sight that is far too beautiful to behold as he encourages, “That’s it, my omega. Now, open wide and take me.”

Tentatively, you part your lips as each of your hands bring his member down to your gaping maw. The closer it gets to your mouth, the more colossal it towers over you. All it takes for you to gulp and push down the lump of apprehension in your throat is one glance up at your alpha, whose irises simmer over your own with the heat of the sun as he draws his lip between his teeth while he devours the vivid visage of you between his legs.

There’s so much you want to say to him, but right now, there’s only one thing that can possibly show to him what you feel for him.

When he finally breaches you and his heavy girth falls over your tongue, it is warm like the rest of him and engorged with the blood that rushes to it as you try to nestle him between your lips the best that you can.

He tastes of a musky tanginess that is mixed with a salty, briny tint. You find that it is not an unpleasant flavor.

Your walls contract around nothing when you watch his face contort to one born of pleasure in an accidental brush of your tongue along the underside of his shaft in your attempts to gorge yourself of more of him. Like this, his base is still grasped by each hand as he sinks his fingers into your tresses to urge you forward impossibly more.

Like this, he’s resplendently ravishing as he succumbs to the damned delirium that you are solely and wholly the bringer of.

You’re not sure if the human body was created for this purpose, but you do know that your alpha’s pleasure is the only thing that matters to you now. There’s a feral rawness in him that has slept in him and you want to be the one to awaken it. You’ve always been a stubborn creature and you aren’t about to let unseeded unsurety stop you now when you can see the glimpses of the satisfaction you could grant him like he has for you.

There’s something so gratifying in knowing that you could be the source of his pleasure and so, you experimentally swirl your tongue around his tip that sobs with precum as you allow him to plunge himself even deeper inside your mouth.

Your alpha’s head is thrown back at that as he groans, “Yeah, fuck, pretty. Gods, I knew you could do this. So fucking perfect me, my omega… my mate.”

Inch by impossible inch, your alpha penetrates you inconceivably as you lick at him like a cat starved of its water for days. The hand in your hair starts to push and pull you to and fro and you watch, captured by captivation, as your alpha’s breaths begin to become uneven and heave into pants as he stares heatedly at you.

“Use your hands, pretty. Touch me.” Your alpha husks and you obey, each of your hands constringing around what you can’t fit inside your mouth as you stroke him up and down, your fingers catching along the veins that you take care to caress as you squeeze in a vice-like grip his member that throbs under you.

Your alpha gives a grunt of approval, his back arching as his eyes screw shut under your ministrations as his lips part in pleasure.

Your confidence grows the longer that you lave at him, unsure of what you are doing but nonetheless spurred into action as your alpha clutches your hair between his fingers to secure you to him as you fleetingly flick your wet muscle against his sensitive glans while your alpha laments.

As you stare up at him, he is carnality’s manifestation in the way that the scarlet light erotically colors him in passion’s dangerous hue, his sculpted brows scrunched together under wild curls that curve voluptuously along his angular face.

Lost in him, you make the mistake of scraping your teeth against him only to earn a sharp hiss from him as his fingers tighten in your locks.

Breathless, your alpha’s eyes open while he grimaces, “Loosen your jaw, pretty girl. That hurts, yeah? Try not to graze me with those teeth of yours. I know you can do that, can’t you, sweetling?”

You pull off him with an apology already on your lips, “I’m sorry, alpha. I didn’t mean to harm you. I’ll be better for you, I promise.”

Your alpha coos, “You already are the best for me, pretty,” he brushes his knuckles under your mandible, “There is no one I would do this with beyond you. You’re mine and you will learn, my mate. I do not expect you to be perfect when this is your first time. You’ve been doing so well already, my omega. All you need to do is relax for me.”

Your wolf bays at his praise, affection for him blooming inside you as his words water you.

You heed your alpha’s command, your maw slackening as you guide him back between your lips. This time, you swallow him as far back as you can possibly guzzle him, your mouth flooded of all that is him as you whirl your tongue lasciviously around him.

Your fingers compress around his base while one hand, with renewed spirit, seeps over his balls as you fondle them, your alpha’s eyes rolling to the back of his head as you claw away at the last of his control to cause him to buck into your mouth, his cock driving itself even deeper down your throat until it buries itself so far back that it blocks your airway, hot tears quick to burn at the edges of your eyes as he hits your pharynx and blocks your airway.

“Fuck, don’t stop. Suck me, my mate.” Your alpha drawls out, the efforts of speaking laboriously difficult in the breaths that strain to dislodge themselves and leave him.

It is a sensation you have never felt before to have your mouth so thoroughly filled and though it is not the most comfortable, the pleasure lies not in you, but rather within your mate and in what you are swiftly reducing him to. You would do this a thousand times if it meant wracking your alpha to this.

Ever the dutiful omega, you follow his decree. You hollow your cheeks as you bob your head along his length while you suckle him enthusiastically, inhaling through your nose in spite of the breath that eludes you throat.

“Gods, yeah, pretty. Right there, right there. Fuck me, you’re going to drive me crazy, ” Your alpha rasps as you unsuccessfully try to silence the gag that erupts in the back of your mouth while his fingers knead into your hair to tug at the roots as he thrusts into your mouth to plummet lecherously lower.

Spit pools in every crevice of your mouth until you’re overflowing with it and, as he rams himself into you, all you can do is bear it as your slobber falls like a fountain from your lips in his jostling movements that shake your vision. His eyes have become hazed with craving craze for you and you relish in the way he struggles for breath just as you are in your damning decimation of him.

Transfixed by the way your eyelids flutter as his dick disappears into the wet warmth of your mouth that he could spend forever in, he husks, “You’re so hot like this with my cock between your lips, pretty. You like this, don’t you? You like sucking your alpha’s dick?” He asks while he watches in interest the way that your saliva escapes the cushion of your lips that pillow him inside you, his thumb brushing it away and back over your lips.

You moan to let him know that yes, you really do enjoy seeing the way you’re wrecking him through your own devices. Right now, this is about him and seeing his pleasure is far more satisfying than anything you could have imagined. Knowing that you are the one that is affecting him in this way is inexorably exhilarating. It makes you feel powerful. Now, it is you that holds the key to his raptured raptness.

When your alpha drags his digit along your lower lip, you hum in agreement and the vibrations shoot straight into his member as he arches his back, his head falling even farther as you work him in your mouth while he utters, “Shit, of course you do. You really are perfect for me,” one hand grabs your own to pull you down to the neglected testicles that ache for you, your fingers closing around one delicately to give him a gentle squeeze as he bites at his lip while he growls, “I’m not going to last much longer, pretty. Gods, use that tongue of yours like you did out there when you told those bastards that you’re mine. Show me you meant it, my mate. Let me see how badly you want to please me.”

His words send a wave of blazing heat through you, tenacious tenacity sweltering within you at the realization that he’d been watching from the shadows and had seen and heard everything that had occurred between you and the two wolves that so stupidly believed they would win you from your soulmate.

You swallow fatally around him, your muscle swishing and swiveling around him as you unhinge your jaw to completely take him in his entirety when he tugs you down on him. His facial expression detorts to one of unadulterated, unbridled bliss as his own tongue lolls to either side of his parted lips, his eyes closing yet again while the sounds of slurping drip from your lips with the spittle that dribbles below them.

Your alpha hums, “Mmm, fuck, you’re so good with that little mouth. You fuck my cock with it better than any bitch in this pack ever could.”

Your cheeks running red at that, you fondle his balls with one hand, your other running your nails down his chest to leave reddened marks of your own over his skin all while you greedily ingurgitate him while he stuffs himself inside you with another dangerous undulation of his hips.

When your fingers roll his balls like dice between them, that has him keening as he pants, “I’m close, pretty. I’m going to fucking fill you up so much that the taste of me will fucking linger in that hungry mouth of yours for days. You want that, yeah?”

You nod instantly, your stomach grumbling your salivary glands producing more of their offspring at just the thought of it as you suction him with eager earnestness betwixt your lips.

By now, he’s swelling and throbbing between your lips, his end near by the way his testicles palpitate as you titillate him.

Your alpha grunts before he rumbles out, “Gods, you are such a ravenous little girl for me. I bet that cunt of yours is just as starved to receive me, isn’t it, little one? Fuck, I could knot you, my mate. I could breed you so well. Do you want my pups, pretty? Do you want me to stuff you to the brim with my fucking seed so you have no choice but to get pregnant and bear my children?”

You moan at the thought of it, the ostentatious oscillations strafing over his dick as your head bounces back and forth while you quaff him to have him grunt.

There’s an urge to bask in his simmering gaze as you give him over to his end and, with another sinful swill of him within your mouth as you grope his gonads, you splutter amidst the very large cock currently nestled between your lips, “I want it a-all, Jungkook, but p-please…I w-wish,” you slabber him with your saliva as your tongue twists itself around him, “I wish for y-you to look upon me when you finish in my m-mouth.”

Each word trickles from you under the labored breaths you inhale through your nose and you hope that they are not burned by the fire that blazes in the corner of the chamber before they can reach him.

Your voice submerges and dives after him through the sea of exaltation that you have deluged him into and, in your final act to bring him back up for the air of his ecstasy, his eyelids flicker up to reveal golden irises that singe you in their voracious torridity.

You whine at the way the smoke of desire has smoldered him, his long tongue poking against his cheek as his head tilts back while he consumes you in his sights that leave you squirming along the floor as he husks, “You want me to see who has made me feel so fucking good, yeah? Very well, pretty. Watch me cum just for you.”

If the dangerous twirl of your tongue along his slit while your hand that had been attached to his testicles slides sinfully down to rub along his perineum isn’t enough to have him come undone, it’s the way that your eyes now gleam with the glazing of the yen of yearning that every blood vessel burns of yours is coated for him with as you fervently fix him inside your mouth.

You’re the picture of innocence in the white of your dress that curtains you in its angelic wing, but the cock between your lips that you ardently take between them damns you in sin’s tendrils that Jungkook captures you with.

It is his utter undoing when your cheeks fatally concave in their incurvation as you suck him with tightly compressed pressure inside your wet warmth while you run your tongue along his base at the same time he draws you forward so that your nose brushes the thicket of pubic hairs as you blink with innocent doe-eyes up at him as he howls, “Ah, fuck, I’m there, pretty. I’m cumming because of what you did to me.”

Euphoria pours itself through him like a cascading waterfall that does douse every part of him that it washes over as his knot swells inside you, his irises never abandoning you through his climax as his seed bursts out of him and spurts across every corner of your mouth.

You flatten your tongue to catch every bit of him as he feeds you his nectarous ambrosia. His thickened essence spreads and spills over your hot muscle and down your throat deliciously viscous as he makes good on his promise and nourishes your parched body with his sinful sustenance.

He spouts and streams his taint into you as endlessly as a river and when you think you might just overflow with it, that’s when he extricates himself from you, one hand rising so that his thumb caresses your swollen and abused lips as he coos, “Such a good girl for me. You did so well for your first time, sweetling,” his digit swipes at the stray bead of cum that leaks from you only to sweep his finger over your tongue and you close your mouth around him, moaning out at his tasteful tinge as his eyes flash darkly at you, “That’s it, pretty. Drink every last drop. We wouldn’t want you to thirst for me again while you watch me fight the other alphas for you, now would we?”

He pulls his digit from you with a ‘pop’ as you lick your lips as you breathe, “No, alpha. That would be a travesty, truly.”

Your alpha chuckles at that as he gathers you from the floor and when your scent wafts wantonly under his nostrils, he smirks wolfishly, “My, my, my… you really can’t get enough of me, can you?”

It takes you a second to realize, but when he settles you on his lap once more and your thighs skim each other in the movement, your eyes widen as you draw in a short, small breath.

Your alpha only arches a sculpted brow, amusement coloring his tone as he teases, “What? Surprised that you got off by humping my leg like the animal that you are while you sucked my cock, pretty?”

So focused on delivering your alpha over to his end, you’d hardly paid attention to the way your legs had clamped around one of his own as you rutted against him with fervor. You really couldn’t help it with the sight of sin that had commanded your capture under it.

You whine, your irises dipping low as you trace circles along his bare chest as embarrassment tints your cheeks red, “Jungkook, I didn’t mean to. You just… you did this. It’s your fault.”

Your alpha laughs at that, one hand settling along your jaw to coax your visage back up at him while your wolf hounds at you to obey as he rumbles, “I shall gladly take the blame then, beautiful. You know, the fact that you came from giving to me the best head that I’ve ever had,” the fingers of his other palm snake under the folds of your dress to drag through the deposit of wetness that now drapes your legs as he brings the digits to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick his finger clean of you as he groans at the flavor of you while his irises dilate, “That’s hot as fuck.”

Your blush is as red as a ruby as you whimper at that and your alpha grins as his stray hand lands on your hip to trail up and down your back in soothing circular motions to reassure you. His mouth opens to say something else, but before he can, there’s a loud series of knocks against the wooden door interrupts the two of you amidst your illicit indecencies.

“This is the last call for all alphas that might remain here. The Offering is about to begin,” says the muffled voice of an elder that likely had been sent to collect any lingering wolves that were still in the den.

You whine loudly as your arms intertwine around your alpha’s neck, your baser being demanding you keep close to your alpha as he softens, the fingers on your cheek splaying out so that his digits caress you as utters, “Come, pretty. I must ready myself for what is to come and I require my mate’s aid to assist me in dressing, for you’ve temporarily robbed me of my faculties after what you’ve just done to me.”

Your wolf preens at that as your hand lifts as you lay your palm over his own while you implore, “Must we go so soon? I do not wish to leave your side.”

Your alpha stands and he’s careful to lift you up and off of him even while your arms tighten around his neck as he rumbles, “After this is all over, you will be free to be with me whenever, wherever and however you desire, my mate. You know the rules,” he moves back and you follow him in your embrace until his thighs hit the back of the vanity where his clothes sit on the abandoned chair, “I must duel anyone that tries to contest me for you, sweetling. It simply is the way of things and I will not hesitate to engage in battle with any wolf that attempts to take what is rightfully mine. You are everything to me and I will make certain that everyone knows it. Do you understand, pretty?”

You nod as you nuzzle the sensitive gland along his neck as a purr trembles from your throat while you scent him, “I understand, Jungkook. I only fear the bloody destruction you’ll leave in your wake for any fools that think they can tear you away from me.”

“That shall be their mistake, pretty,” he sighs in satisfaction as he tilts his head back to grant access as you paint him with the stroke of your lips over the tender skin along his clavicle, “I will not lose you.”

Tenet blazes in his eyes and conviction radiates his words that emit with the sun’s might their fierceness as they fall over you to set your own affection alight within you as you lace your lips along his jaw in a stripe of kisses that you thread there as you manage between them, “There is not a shred of doubt in my mind that you will be the champion amongst them all. However it may be, you have already won me, alpha.”

With that, you embellish him with the cloth he will wear in his battles for you. You help him delicately pull the garment over his head that shades him in the color of soot. It is akin to a sheet of thin charcoal that dyes him in its film of darkness that, like his earlier shirt, is grainy and dusts him lightly in its hue, his sun soaked skin shining brilliantly from beneath it.

Your mouth waters at the sight of it as you tuck it into cotton trousers that are black as night and your alpha smirks when the smell of your arousal drips down to collect itself amidst the pool of your taint yet again as he watches with interest the way that you chew at your lip while you tug the white blazer across bulging arms that catch at the heavier material as you drag it over him.

He makes certain to playfully provoke you by wrapping an arm around your waist only to schlep you forward, your hands planting themselves against his broad, strong chest as he asks, “Are you ready to watch me show everyone that I and I alone am the only wolf that is deserving of you as his mate?”

You nudge at the edge of his collarbone to catchily collect as much of his riveting redolence as you can before you sow another row of kisses along his skin only to pull away and admit, “Always.”

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thinkingisadangerouspastime · 3 years

Text

Love of My Life

It was then Katara’s turn to stare up at the fiery sky, the multitude of clouds glowing in red and orange glory. “Aang,” she murmured, his name falling from her lips like a prayer. “Please.”

After the final battle, Katara and Aang reunite.

(Written for Day 3 of Kataang Week 2021: Missing Scenes/Post-Canon, hosted by @kataang-week. Read here on AO3, or continue reading below.)

Azula was taken away at some point, maybe by the Fire Sages, but her bloodcurdling screams and broken sobs were hardly a pinprick at the back of Katara’s mind as she kept her attention trained to the lightning wound blasted across Zuko’s solar plexus. Her hands glowed with the water she was continuously pulling from the now-burst piping system in the courtyard around them. She had no enhanced spirit water as with Aang, but fortunately Zuko’s injury was less severe and—thanks to her quick defeat of Azula—no longer life-threatening.

Zuko winced, and guilt flashed through Katara’s stomach for silently dismissing his pain. “Sorry.” She moved the water further upward on his chest, over a spot where the skin was more blistered. “Better?”

A low hiss escaped Zuko’s lips as the cool liquid skimmed the wound, and he managed a weak nod. “Thanks.” His voice was raspier than usual. To be expected. “For this, and for… and for stopping Azula.”

The urge to laugh rose in Katara’s throat, which she immediately suppressed because Tui and La, what was wrong with her? How was now an appropriate time for laughter? “Well, you’re welcome,” she said instead, giving him a weary smile, “but next time, how about you don’t taunt her about the lack of lightning, hmm?”

Zuko grimaced, and Katara knew that particular reaction had nothing to do with the wound across his chest. “Let’s just hope there will never be a next time.”

Katara couldn’t argue with that.

The following minutes were quiet as Katara slowly moved the water up, down, and around Zuko’s injury, her hands themselves hovering less than an inch above his chest. While she knew it was only a figment of her imagination, Katara could’ve sworn there was still blue lightning—Azula’s lightning—flickering across the wound, sparking at her fingertips and prickling across her skin.

Maybe, then, it was this lingering remnant of the Avatar’s slayer that had Katara so on edge. Maybe that was the reason why tension still thrummed through her body despite that she and Zuko were safe now, despite that they’d won.

“He’s going to come back.”

Zuko’s words broke the heavy silence, startling Katara so badly her concentration flew out the figurative window. The water around her hands lost its glow and splattered across Zuko’s chest like she’d emptied a full bucket on top of him. Frantic apologies spilled from her lips as she bent the water off his upper body with similar haste, but Zuko—wincing—pushed himself into a sitting position before she could begin the healing process again.

“Zuko, what are you—”

“Aang is going to come back,” he repeated, staring at Katara with an intensity that probably shouldn’t have been possible for someone in his grievously injured state. A testament to her healing skills, truly, and also to Zuko’s general stubbornness.

“I know he will,” Katara said after a pause, bending the water she’d again collected around her hands into the leather waterskin that hung at her hip. “If memory serves, I was the one telling you that on our way here.”

Zuko chuckled. “I know. Sorry. You just seemed like…” His eyes flickered across her face, searching for vulnerability Katara refused to bare. “Like you needed the reminder.”

Katara sighed, not meeting his gaze. “Look. I know Aang will come back. I know he’ll win.” Spirits, maybe he had won already. “I mean, he’s the only one who can. But I guess I’m still—” Katara cut herself off with another sigh, blinking back exhausted tears. “Fine, you’re right. I guess I’m still worried.”

Aang would return victorious, yes, there was no doubt in her mind. But at what cost? What price would he have been forced to pay? Sacrificing his body through the loss of a limb? Sacrificing his soul through the loss of that which his people valued above all else? Katara knew, she knew that if anyone could stop Ozai without killing him, it was Aang. But what she didn’t know was—was how.

Spirits, Katara wouldn’t be able to handle it if Aang returned to her broken in a way she couldn’t heal. She’d already witnessed him die once, watched his body go limp as life left it. She wasn’t ready to watch his spirit disappear, wasn’t ready to watch hope leave his heart, too.

Zuko opened his mouth, presumably to offer more words of comfort to her, but he was interrupted by Appa’s body stiffening—the sky bison was so large it was impossible not to notice the reaction. He’d originally been standing guard, for all intents and purposes, while Katara healed Zuko, but now his eyes were glued to the sky as he released a bellow that shook the stone of the courtyard beneath them.

Katara grabbed Zuko’s arm to keep him from toppling over, but instead of resettling himself, Zuko tried to stand up, as if the giant wound on his chest was nothing more than a mere papercut.

“It’s Aang!” was the only explanation he gave as Katara relented with a huff and helped him to his feet. “It has to be. What else would get Appa acting like this?”

Privately, Katara agreed with him. Hope beat in her heart so rapidly it ached. But since Zuko had wildly, unexpectedly, completely out of the blue transformed into an optimist—seriously, had the lightning gone through his brain?—well, that meant she had to be the one to temper his optimism with a little realism.

“It could be a threat,” she responded honestly, not releasing Zuko’s arm until she was certain he’d gathered his balance.

Zuko shot her a doubtful look. “You sure?” He pointed at Appa, whose tail had started shaking—okay, yes, probably with excitement, Katara would admit that much.

It was then her turn to stare up at the fiery sky, the multitude of clouds glowing in red and orange glory. “Aang,” she murmured, his name falling from her lips like a prayer. “Please.”

Seconds later, those otherworldly clouds split open to reveal a Fire Nation airship, and on the exterior Katara could see flashes of blue and green fabric—Sokka and Toph, it had to be. Spirits knew she probably should have been concerned about who was steering the balloon, but once it was clear the ship was heading steadily towards the ground and wouldn’t face a disastrous crash, Katara’s mind returned to its previous mantra.

Aang. Aang. Aang.

“Remember to breathe, Katara.”

Katara shot Zuko a mild glare at his wry tone, but exhaled, because he was right—she’d been holding her breath. In fact, she was still holding far more tension in her body than could be considered healthy, but Katara knew that overwhelming stiffness wasn’t going to ease until she saw her friends alive and well, until she felt Aang’s heartbeat in sync against her own.

Katara’s breath hitched as the airship came to a stop far from herself and Zuko, hovering above the stone ground of the courtyard. It was much larger up close—no wonder it couldn’t land properly. There was a deep rattle as a metal plank, of sorts, some kind of steel pathway lowered from the ship and scraped across the ground with an earsplitting screech. Onto it stepped—

“They’re alive!” Katara gasped, blinking back elated tears as Sokka, Aang, Toph, and Suki—and Momo atop Suki’s left shoulder—stepped out onto the platform. One of Sokka’s legs was in a splint and he had to lean onto Suki’s side for support as he hobbled along, but— “They’re all alive!”

Aang was alive.

They’d done it. A little bruised, a little broken, maybe all around worse for wear, but—

They’d done it.

“Come on,” Zuko urged, taking an unsteady step forward and immediately wincing. He didn’t let the pain stop him, though, powering another foot ahead. “Let’s meet them halfway.”

Katara rolled her eyes, ducking under Zuko’s arm to brace him against her side, careful to avoid his injury. “Idiot.” Standing on his own was one thing, but walking by himself was an entirely different matter. She could already tell Zuko was the kind of person who made a terrible patient.

But Katara walked with him all the same, slow and steady. As they got closer, she could better see the physical state her friends were in. Toph had only a few scrapes across her arms and face. Same for Suki. Sokka had clearly done a number on his leg, as he was hardly putting any weight on it despite the well-made split, and not to mention that Suki continued to brace him while he walked. Aang was—

“Appa!”

Well, Aang was getting smothered by Appa, Katara noted with silent amusement as the sky bison practically tackled Aang to the ground, nuzzling and licking him with unabashed eagerness.

“Buddy, I’m okay!” Aang managed to wheeze out amidst his laughter, giving Appa a tight hug. “I’m okay, I promise.”

He seemed to be telling the truth, at least based on what Katara could discern from afar. His orange robes were torn to oblivion, with only his Fire Nation pants remaining. She could see minor burns across his chest and one area on the left side of his ribs that looked to her like it would become a painful bruise, but overall—

“If you guys are here with no Azula,” Sokka joked as they all came to a stop, snapping Katara’s attention away from Aang, “does that mean Zuko finally gets to rule the Fire Nation?”

Katara allowed Zuko to keep some of his weight on her even as they stood still. He laughed at her brother’s comment. “Katara’s the one who technically defeated her in the Agni Kai. Maybe that makes her the Fire Lord.”

Katara groaned and rolled her eyes, ignoring the amused snickers of her friends. “Tui and La, no. I refuse. I resign. I—I abdicate. The throne is all yours, Zuko.”

She turned her attention to her brother’s injured leg as Suki began recounting the details of their battle in the air, including how they’d managed to pilfer an airship of their own. Up close, Katara was relieved to see that no bone had broken through the skin in Sokka’s shin or thigh—that would have made it much harder for her to heal. She made sure Zuko was stable on his feet before stepping away to study the injury further. But as she crouched at Sokka’s side and went to bend water out her flask for the preliminary healing process—

“Hey. That can wait.”

Katara blinked, staring up at Sokka in utter confusion. “Excuse me?” His leg was broken, she couldn’t just—

Sokka jerked his head towards Aang, who was busy freeing himself from beneath Appa’s weight. “Go greet the hero of the hour. My leg will still be here when you get back.”

Toph snorted. “Of the hour?” She shook her head. “Give him credit, Sokka—Twinkle Toes is the hero of the century.” Momo chirped before jumping from Suki’s shoulder onto Toph’s, as if agreeing with her.

Katara turned to look at Aang, her mind tuning out the rest of her friend’s teasing banter that followed. He was—Aang was more than the hero of the century, at least to her. More than the Avatar, more than an airbender, more than—

Aang must have felt her eyes on him, because he paused in petting Appa to turn around and give her a shy grin. “Hi, Katara.”

With those two words, the dam burst, and Katara sprinted over to Aang with all the speed of a roaring wave. Her arms crashed around his bare shoulders like water beating against the shore, and Aang wrapped his arms around her waist in return. Katara could only squeeze him tighter, his face pressing into her shoulder.

“You stopped him,” Katara whispered. Her words were shaky, or—spirits, maybe it was her entire body that was quivering. “Ozai. You stopped him.”

Aang nodded into her shoulder, and Katara slackened her grip just enough so he could lean back and reply. “Yep.”

Katara’s right hand instinctively rose to cup his face. She could see it in his eyes—tired, yes, but still so full of hope, the warm gray as rich as the shimmering moon. “You found another way, didn’t you?”

Aang smiled at her, laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes, and spirits if that wasn’t an image Katara wanted traced into her memory for the rest of time. “Ozai is alive. But he can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

Katara had a million questions, the first being the obvious How? How did you do it? But no query fell from her lips despite her overwhelming curiosity. Instead, all she could do was stare at Aang, tears of relief sliding down her cheeks as she smiled and smiled and smiled and—

“I am so proud of you,” Katara said, the words halfway to a sob as she pulled Aang into another crushing hug, marvelling at how perfectly his body fit against hers. “I knew you would do it, Aang, I knew it. Only you could.”

Aang laughed. “Must’ve been your belief that got me through it.” His arms tightened around her, as if he, too, needed the unspoken reassurance that Katara was there, that she was real, that they had won, the same way she needed such comfort from him. “At one point, I’m not even sure I believed I’d succeed.”

“It’s a good thing I never doubted you, then,” Katara whispered, and Aang laughed again.

“Yes. Thank you.”

Katara wasn’t quite sure what Aang was thanking her for—her faith then, her presence now?—and in truth, she had a feeling Aang didn’t precisely know, either. But what did precision matter? They were here, together, alive. Beaten and bruised but not broken beyond all repair. Neither of them had lost what they couldn’t live without.

For Aang, the vestiges of his peaceful people. And for her…

Aang.

Katara hadn’t lost Aang. Not like she had before, not like she couldn’t bear to ever lose him again.

“Alright, lovebirds! That’s enough time spent hugging the life out of each other. Come tend to the wounded, please.”

Katara rolled her eyes at her brother’s obnoxious interruption, but she released Aang after a final tight squeeze. She really did want to take a look at Sokka’s leg. Besides—she and Aang now had all the time in the world. All the time in a peaceful world, at that.

Aang followed her back to the rest of their friends, and Katara had just knelt down to examine Sokka’s injury when Aang burst out into loud, unprovoked laughter. The sudden sound made her jump, and it was only thanks to some quick thinking—and inelegant bending—that she avoided spilling the water from her waterskin all over the stone courtyard for the second time in the past ten minutes.

“What’s so funny?” Zuko asked, the apparent reason for Aang’s laughter. “What did I do?”

“No—you didn’t—” Aang cut himself off with a wheeze, and Katara couldn’t stop herself from glancing behind her to see what on Earth had him in stitches.

Aang pointed at Zuko’s chest, biting down hard on his bottom lip in a clear attempt to withhold further laughter. “That. Azula shot you with lightning, right?” When Zuko nodded, he said, “And Katara healed you?”

“I did,” Katara confirmed. Sokka gave her a disapproving look, probably because she was yet to begin healing his leg, but—well, this time Katara had no real excuse beyond her own intrigue. Whoops. But it wasn’t as if his splint wasn’t holding up perfectly. The expertise with which it was secured suggested Suki had been the one to fashion it, and that meant Sokka would be fine for a quick moment longer.

Aang’s laughter returned in full force, one arm wrapped around his stomach while his free hand gestured wildly behind him. “We—We match!” He turned around, and—

“Oh, for Agni’s sake,” Zuko groaned, and Katara found herself unable to contain her laughter. In a matter of seconds, they were all laughing at Aang’s revelation. Even Zuko, once he’d gotten over himself.

Tui and La. Katara loved her friends, she loved her life, she loved being alive with her friends by her side and—

Aang.

She loved Aang.

Oh, spirits.

#kataang #kataangtag #kataang week #katara #aang #atla #avatar the last airbender #zuko #atla fanfic #the gaang #amy writes

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hexfloog · 3 years

Note

hex, my beloved, would you share your thoughts on the diplomat murder case with the class

Weeeelllll... if you insist, anon :3

Hex Goes Off(TM) again below the break, surpriiisssee

As it turns out, The Diplomat Murder Case is responsible for a lot of my current HCs about Shinichi/Conan. It's my favorite of the transformation arcs, it's the very first one-- and thus the hardest-hitting, at least when you get to experience it blind-- and also our introduction to transience as a theme, though admittedly I'm probably a bit biased here... Babby Hex has fond memories of sneaking out of bed to watch this one when it still had a slot on the early morning block, so I often come back to these two episodes wearing nostalgia glasses.

Branching off that, I should probably start by saying that for episodes 1-123, I am almost exclusively familiar with the Funimation dub only, which... as the fanbase knows... has its fair share of strange and silly localization choices. I personally find much of it charming and it has no effect on the story or its appeal for me... except when it does (more on that later).

So despite having lost track of how many times I've rewatched this case, my thoughts on it are actually quite scattered - it's the starting place for a lot of the DCMK ideas I currently subscribe to, but those ideas gained their traction in other places (cough, The Desperate Revival, cough), so I apologize beforehand if these aren't bookended well and also idk how to lead into them so IT'S LIST TIME

1) Vices and Expectations

At the time, the idea of Shinichi returning to normal-- let alone temporarily-- was likely one only being entertained by the audience as the setup for (if not the result of) the grand finale. I remember it surprising me, and it's a hell of a move to put forth such a scenario in the first place, only to take it back. Shinichi himself believes the transformation is permanent until it becomes... horribly apparent that it isn't. It's a nasty surprise for everyone, the nastiest of them all (being the very first in a long line of GOT 'EMs), and I think that as a result this is arguably the most powerless he's ever been in his own body, at least for a while. The depiction of the pain he endures is frightening (something I feel is lost in later transformations): freezing on the surface, but burning beneath the skin... like bones made of magma as they die within the flesh-- his heart beating out of his own chest, faster and faster, harder and harder as if to escape its own agony-- the world blurs, nausea takes hold, balance wavering-- 'This is no longer your fortress,' he hears it whisper in his ear... TBH how he can even think coherently at this stage is lost on me. It's shown to be a debilitating process of physical self-destruction and I don't believe for a second someone could acclimate to it, even after repeated transformations which is lowkey why it bothers me a bit that these feel less weighty as time goes on. Control is Shinichi's domain, and the uncertainty which plagues him as he painfully returns to Conan is a peek behind the curtain, a glimpse of the mortality he-- for all his bravado and cool, calm exterior-- is still very capable of realizing.

Although not nearly as dramatic as the next transformation, I personally find this to be a cruel little hint towards Shinichi's vices. Up til now we have not had many (any?) opportunities to explore what really-- and I mean really-- makes him tick. The recklessness he falls prey to when he thinks his old life is within reach again (see: literally every time he's tempted by The Antidote) is teased here-- not overtly, mind, but this first experience with temporary normalcy introduces the idea of hope to Shinichi's world, and the expectation that he can come back to it, actually, is suddenly set. Even if for a brief moment, we see the hands which have wound his potential to self-destruct...

2) Othering

I mentioned in a previous tirade post that the Funimation dub adds some interesting dialogue which is absent from the JP version:

"... From my own mouth, not his!"

...But is substantiated by dialogue which is present in the original:

"Am I turning back into that kid again?!"

"...With my real mouth... and my real voice..."

I find it so, so intriguing that this early on, it's already implied that Shinichi thinks of Conan as an entity separate from himself, despite that obviously not being the case and especially considering that-- here, at episode 49/50-- Conan hasn't really been present for long enough to establish himself as Conan (Ran sleuthing out his Real Identity is still a very real threat at this point, after all). Shinichi rarely mentions Conan by name throughout the case, in all other instances referring to him as something else-- "that kid with the glasses--" and... idk, to me that indicates shame, or fear, or resentment, and just reeks of plain animosity. I know for the sake of appearances he needed to Other Conan in front of Ran and Heiji, but when he's alone with his thoughts... it's not necessary to actively think of Conan like something to be hated unless he really feels that way, unless he really feels vexed by this child, this thing that is both him and not.

I dunno, I just find that fascinating. That one Funimation line is single-handedly responsible for this whole entire HC in my head ahahaaa

3) Heiji, and Hope

My angst-brain is constantly honing in on Shinichi, but The Diplomat Murder Case is pretty important for introducing Heiji, too!! Kaito won't see his DC debut for another twenty or so episodes, so imo it's Heiji, debuting as a rival detective, who first introduces the idea of a possible foil for Shinichi. This... obviously doesn't pan out this way-- quite the opposite-- and the entire premise of Heiji seeking out The Great Detective of the East as his "thousandth sword" only carries a lot more weight after the parallels to Benkei and Yoshitsune are made more plain in Crossroad in the Ancient Capital. So for all intents and purposes (especially since the Funimation dialogue was changed around quite a bit), Hattori's appearance here isn't particularly outstanding in itself aside from being his first, except...

...Except Heiji also introduces the baijiu here, the catalyst for this entire arc and my subsequent observations, the vehicle through which Shinichi becomes aware that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and the knowledge of which Conan repeatedly draws upon whenever the antidote comes up. Given that Heiji eventually discovers Shinichi's secret and, in their friendship, serves as one of his lifelines to his former self (as "companionship," in my head... more on that in another post, maybe), I find it... very striking that he would be the first one to deliver him hope. Good God.

Like Kaito, I want to think about Heiji more in-depth too, but there are better episodes for it... Murderer, Shinichi Kudo

eeeEEEEE okay i'm done tysm for letting me screm anon this case has a special place in my top ten aaAAAaaaahaha

#ask #anon #dcmk #detective conan #kudou shinichi #shinichi kudo #headcanon #internal screaming hours #text #the diplomat murder case #long post #hattori heiji

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midzelink · 4 years

Text

What’s Going On with the Ears in Hyrule?

(Or: A Needlessly Comprehensive Deep-Dive into the Myst-EAR-ious Duality of Round-Eared Humans and Long-Eared Hylians, a Very S-EAR-ious Write-Up)

As some of you may remember from a few months back, I made an off-hand comment about my ideas surrounding the disparities between the different types of ears we see in Hyrule’s human citizens, and my desire to further expand on that at a later date. No, that was not a joke, and yes, I am finally Doing the Dang Thing. So! Let’s get started.

Long-time fans of the series will know that Hylians are a race of humans in the world of The Legend of Zelda with long, elf-like ears. Hylians most always dominate the land of Hyrule in nearly every installment in the series, with round-eared humans only making their first appearance in Link’s Awakening, a game that - spoiler alert - was all a dream in the first place. And though plain old humans again appear in the lands of Holodrum and Labrynna in the follow-up Oracle games, it is very in keeping with the theme of this blog that their most notable appearance happens to be in Twilight Princess.

Though it is never remarked upon in-game, Link is the only Hylian in a village filled with humans, such as Ilia and Rusl, leading the player to assume that he was not Ordon-born. Other notable examples include Ashei, who hails from the mountains, and even the inhabitants of (New) Kakariko (though only three in number) are all mere humans. The Hylians of this game seem to be centralized around Castle Town, with notable members including Telma, Shad, and Auru of the Resistance, and naturally, Zelda herself. Yet as I’ve already stated, the fact that there are two different sets of ears among the humans is never even a topic of conversation; it makes you wonder why the developers bothered to make the distinction at all, and indeed, plenty of fans have never even noticed that such a disparity exists. I certainly didn’t notice when I was ten years old, playing through Twilight Princess for the very first time - but we’ve come a long way since then, and I am delighted to finally be able to tell everyone why I think this disparity exists, and how it has bled into other aspects of the series. Let’s back away from Twilight Princess for a moment; all good theories have a beginning, and this one is no different. To understand where this all began, we must look thousands of years into the past, to Skyward Sword. More specifically, this all started...

...with this guy.

Yes, Beedle. That Beedle. But before we can even jump into how he relates to any of this, we must travel further back still, to the very opening cutscene of Skyward Sword.

In this cutscene, we hear a very dumbed-down tale of how Demise invaded the surface world that was ruled over by the Goddess Hylia; to protect the sacred relic placed into her care by the Golden Goddesses, Hylia rends a piece of land from the earth and sends it skyward, leaving the Goddess Sword and the Triforce with it. Together with the remaining peoples of the Surface, she seals Demise away, and millennia later the events of Skyward Sword transpire. The entirety of this cutscene is not in and of itself very important, but I would like to draw everyone’s attention to one particular line uttered by the narrator during this sequence:

“To prevent this great power from falling into the hands of the evil swarming the lands… The goddess gathered the surviving humans on an outcropping of earth.”

It is worth noting here that - though the word “Hylian” itself only appears in reference to the shield which bears its name - Skyloft is comprised entirely of people with long ears. Keeping these things in mind, let’s go back to Beedle.

Beedle is, by all intents and purposes, a fairly unremarkable character in Skyward Sword. That is to say, outside of providing Link with goods throughout his adventure, he bears no significance on the plot in any capacity, having only a single sidequest that involves retrieving a pet beetle (snickers) of his, for which the player’s reward is a small sum of Gratitude Crystals. But there is one, throwaway line of completely optional dialogue you can trigger towards the beginning of this sidequest, and it is upon this line that the entire basis for this theory has been built. When meeting Beedle on his home island apart from Skyloft for the very first time, the player is given the option...

...to comment on his accent.

[after selecting “Your accent!”] “Hmmm? The mellifluous timbre of my voice sounds different to you?

...Perhaps a touch, I suppose... But pray, what does it matter, hmm?”

What’s important to understand about accents is how they come about to begin with: namely, slight differences in pronunciation and rhythm of speech evolve over time as the language (in this case, some form of ancient Hylian) spreads to different locations. And of course, everyone who uses spoken language has an accent, but Link’s remarking upon Beedle’s is an indication that his pattern of speech is different from his own. In most other games, this would be unextraordinary - but in the context of Skyward Sword, where humanity has been isolated to a (relatively speaking) small outcropping of earth in the sky, it becomes extremely noteworthy. No one in Skyloft should have “an accent,” because theirs is a society and culture so small in scale that they should all have the same accent. Beedle having an accent makes sense if, and only if...

...he’s not from Skyloft.

And if he’s not from Skyloft, the logical conclusion would be that he must be from the Surface. In almost any other circumstance, this assertion would be smashed to smithereens by the sheer fact that getting to Skyloft without a Loftwing - companions blessed only to those who live in the sky - should be an unattainable feat. And yet, of all the people in Skyloft, Beedle is the only one who could have achieved such a thing...

...because his shop - which conveniently doubles as his house - is an electricity-powered flying machine. Within the context of the game, such a contraption seems almost nonsensical; if he were from Skyloft, why would he not just set up shop in a permanent location? Even if he wanted to live on a smaller island by himself, the people of Skyloft could simply use their Loftwings to reach him (which they still need to do, anyway!). Indeed, the existence of Beedle’s Shop makes far more sense...if it already existed by the time he arrived there.

Which brings us back to that introductory cutscene. The narrator states that Hylia gathered up all of the surviving humans (notice the use of the word humans here) onto an outcropping of earth and sent them skyward, and on a surface level, this seems straight-forward enough - but with the revelation that Beedle is very likely from the Surface himself, it’s very obvious that this is nothing more than a bold-faced lie. Some humans were left behind - they couldn’t all possibly have fit on such a small piece of land - and those humans were the ancestors of Beedle, in some way, shape, or form. What became of those humans is another matter altogether (one I will address briefly), as the Surface we explore in Skyward Sword is perfectly devoid of human life, barring Impa.

Now, let’s bring it back home: remember how I said that all Skyloftians have long ears? That was a bit of a white lie, though only if you count Beedle among that number. In truth, Beedle’s ears are obscured by the bowl cut of his hair - but this is true for every game he appears in, and the general consensus is that they’re round. This would make Beedle the only round-eared human in the entire game...and he, coincidentally, happens to be from the Surface.

Before I go any further, I’d like to establish a very base reasoning for the existence of long-eared qualities in the human races of Hyrule. Hylians are far from the only ones to bear long ears, what with the trait also presenting themselves in the likes of the Sheikah and, by the era of Breath of the Wild, even the Gerudo - though it is exceptionally notable that in Ocarina of Time, the Gerudo have round ears, and Ganondorf is no exception...at least, at first.

Y’see, what’s especially notable about Ganondorf is that he is the same exact character is each title he appears in, and in The Wind Waker and Twilight Princess, his ears are long. This was actually something I only noticed quite recently, upon which I then fervently began scouring for information about his appearance in Ocarina of Time to try and make sense of it all, and the results are...very intriguing, to say the least. Below is a comparison of Ganondorf pre-timeskip vs. post-timeskip from the original Nintendo 64 version of the game:

As you can see, his model has changed in a number of ways, but... Well, I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.

Amazingly, his ears got longer, which is...an interesting choice from a design perspective. Of course, it leads one to wonder why - and far and above the most significant thing to happen to him in the seven years between these two appearances is his procuring of the Triforce of Power from the Sacred Realm, a relic of the old gods. Evil or no, Ganondorf had forged a bond with a god unlike any had before him, and for some reason, this elongated his ears - so much so that by the time of Twilight Princess and The Wind Waker, they are indistinguishable from your typical Hylian’s. It is notable, too, that the Sheikah (who have always had long ears) also bear a special connection to the gods, living to serve Hylia and, later, her reincarnation as the princess in the Royal Family of Hyrule.

“They say we Hylians have big ears in order to hear the voices of the gods.”

So now, keeping everything I’ve talked about here in mind, I think it appropriate to go over the series of events that likely transpired, beginning from Demise’s invasion of the surface world:

In a bid to keep the Triforce out of evil’s grasp, Hylia formulates a plan to send both it and the Goddess Sword out of harm’s way. She selects - perhaps by chance, perhaps by choice - a not insignificant number of humans to live on this skyward isle, but naturally not all of them can make the cut. These chosen humans would go on to found Skyloft, a land whose culture revolves heavily around the reverence of the very goddess who saved them and enabled them to live in prosperity (the existence of the Wing Ceremony, the Statue of the Goddess, etc.), while the humans who remained on the surface, left in a world scarred by war and ravaged by monsters, sought new lands, becoming the ancestors of people who would found Holodrum and Labrynna, to name a couple. In their reverence of Hylia, the people of Skyloft would develop long ears, as even the Sheikah had - but the humans left on the surface world...would not.

That is to say, the Hylians we see in almost every major installment of the series are the direct descendants of the people of Skyloft, and round-eared humans are the descendants of the people Hylia left behind.

Of course, not all humans fled from their homeland - though we see none in-game, it’s important to remember that we also see no Sheikah aside from Impa, though we know they are great in number. Beedle was, undoubtedly, one of these very few stragglers, and with stories of a land beyond the clouds on his mind - legends that have been passed down over countless generations - he sought to find this paradise by any means, through sheer blood, sweat, and tears (but mostly sweat, if that cycling is any indication) if necessary. In the end, he was successful, and he lives among the people of Skyloft fairly unassumingly - yet he also lives apart from them, on his own island because, at his core, he is not one of them, and never will be. He doesn’t get all of this Hylia stuff, and frankly, he doesn’t care - so long as he can chill on his own little crop of land with a full belly, a full wallet, and his pet beetle, that’s really all that matters.

And speaking of Hylia - the reason they are called Hylians is because they are the descendants of those chosen by Hylia, even if the knowledge of Hylia’s existence has largely been lost to history by the events of Ocarina of Time and beyond. (In a very similar vein, it is my belief that Lake Hylia also gets its name from her because the crater that would later become that very lake was formed...when she lifted a gargantuan outcropping of earth into the sky.) Hylians largely dominate Hyrule for so much of its history because the people of Skyloft were the ones who founded it - yet by the era of Twilight Princess, we see that a great many of the humans who had moved onto different lands have slowly but surely made their way back towards the place they once called home.

But I would be remiss to neglect to go back to Breath of the Wild; this game is a much more peculiar case, taking place in an era many millennia after any game that came before it, where reverence for Hylia is once again commonplace - so much so that statues bearing her resemblance have been erected in every town, village, and city across the country. Humans are once again practically nowhere to be seen (except, again, perhaps for Beedle), and even the Gerudo, who have now long intermingled with Hylians for the sake of having children, have inherited the trait (perhaps in part due to the fact that some of their own may worship Hylia, if the statue in Gerudo Town is any indication). In every single instance, no matter where you turn, these long ears seem to be a direct correlation to the people’s connection to the gods of Hyrule - but rather than their ears being a predetermined factor in how strong this connection may be, it seems that their faith is what influences this trait to rise to the surface, over how ever many generations or centuries that just might take. (Ganondorf Dragmire, who lives in a castle and inherited a relic of pure godly power, is an outlier and should not be counted.) As Shad so eloquently states in Twilight Princess:

“Hyrule was made by the Hylians, who, as we all know, are the closest race to the gods.”

And as long as we’re talking about Shad, I’d love to begin wrapping up this post by bringing things round to Twilight Princess once more - specifically the context in which Shad says the above quote, which is far and away one of the most peculiar instances of casual lore-dumping in the entire series. The quote in its entirety from the North American version of the game reads thusly:

“At the moment I'm absolutely entranced by the sky beings known as the Oocca. Yes, according to legend, Hyrule was made by the Hylians [...] But also according to legend, long ago there was a race even closer to the gods, and some say these creatures made the Hylians. When they created the people of Hylia, they simultaneously created a new capital, a city that floated in the heavens.”

What Shad is saying here is extremely farfetched, particularly for those of us who are familiar with the Oocca. But in truth, this was a minor mistranslation on Nintendo of America’s part; the original text from the Japanese version of the game clears actually reads much more like this, when translated correctly:

“The common opinion is that Hyrule was created by the Hylia people, the race closest to the gods, but...truth be told, there's also a theory saying that in ancient times, there was a race even closer to the gods than the Hylia people, and THEY created it [Hyrule]. And they, simultaneously with the birth of the Hylia people, created a new capital, a capital that floated in the heavens.”

So the Oocca - the bizarre, Cucco-like creatures who inhabit the City in the Sky - did not create the Hylians, but rather established the kingdom of Hyrule itself in the world that the goddesses created. But even with this mistranslation squared away, that still sounds incredibly odd, especially taking the events of Skyward Sword into account; we know that the people of Skyloft are the ones who inevitably found Hyrule, because we see the beginnings of this happening at the end of the game. Funnily enough, it seems that the very line that was mistranslated in the North American version of the game...was the result of mistranslation itself.

In-universe mistranslation, that is. Millennia of history being told, written, lost, and found, translated again and again and again, until it barely resembles its original state. What likely happened was that the Oocca, who live in the sky, were wrongly credited with the creation of Hyrule because the Hylian people who would go on the found Hyrule also came from the sky, as they were the people of Skyloft. Shad’s claim that the Oocca were “a race even closer to the gods" than the Hylians may not be entirely unfounded, however, as it is incredibly likely like the City in the Sky we see in Twilight Princess is what remained of Skyloft after its human inhabitants abandoned it; the Loftwings that the people of Skyloft had for so long relied on would go on to evolve into more sentient beings, suspending the city above the clouds long after Hylia’s magic had worn off - and Loftwings were, as the people of Skyloft believed, beings bestowed upon them as a symbol of the goddess’s divine blessing. In this sense, it is somewhat true that the City in the Sky and the Hylians were created at the same time; when the Skyloftians abandoned their home to live in a new land where they were not long after christened the Hylians, the skyward isle that they had left behind found a new purpose, and a new “city” was born.

Of course, maybe Shad was off his marbles (even if the Oocca are evolved Loftwings, there is still much about them and their connection to the Sheikah that remains shrouded in mystery), but the crux of this entire narrative is that the people of Hylia, the Hylians - at least, up until Breath of the Wild is concerned - were the descendants of the people of Skyloft, and Beedle’s eccentricities in the context of Skyward Sword are rather convincing pieces of evidence that this did not comprise all people of the formerly-known-as “Land of Hylia.” It is therefore only natural that a conclusion could be drawn about where the distinction between the two peoples comes from.

But in the end, even if this can answer the question of why there are round-eared humans alongside long-eared ones, it does not answer the ultimate question of what this distinction means. Why does a connection with and a faith in the gods elongate the ears of the people it touches? The Zelda Encyclopedia states that “in the past, Hylians were able to wield magic of considerable might,” a trait that could possibly distinguish them from your typical human being - but the canon nature of the Encyclopedia is...shaky*, at best, and downright disrespectful at worst. Link and Zelda are two Hylians we see wielding abnormal abilities, but their power can be explained with their respective pieces of the Triforce, not to mention the countless magic users in Hyrule and beyond who aren’t Hylian. Even if there was a time when the Hylians had special abilities, those abilities have long since faded. They are no no taller, no smaller, live no longer than their round-eared counterparts; they are, in every aspect aside from the length of their ears, in every way identical. To finish the quote by the unnamed Hylian man who speaks to a young Link in the Castle Town Market in Ocarina of Time:

“They say we Hylians have big ears in order to hear the voices of the gods...but I've never heard them!”

So...there you have it. I must admit that it is entirely possible that the people of Skyloft had developed long ears before their ancestors had been sent to the heavens - after all, the Sealed Temple was, in millennia past, a temple erected in her honor. Yet this would also make the story of Hylia gathering the “surviving humans” in order to save them all the more grim; could the gods be so callous as to save only those who respect their divine might? One cannot help but think of the Great Sea in The Wind Waker - for in a world populated by the descendants of those who were chosen by the gods to survive the coming floods, it is difficult not to notice that ears of the round variety are once again nowhere to be found.

And yet, when you get right down to it - though some Hylians seem to rely on their lineage as “the closest race to the gods” to maintain an image of self-importance - the difference between a long-eared Hylian and a round-eared human appears to be, ultimately...only that. And unless we see our round-eared friends return in a potentially future title, and the difference remarked upon, that will likely be how things remain.

Until that time, I will continue to do my best to fill the gaps with which we have been left - even if, at the end of the day, I’ve written nothing more than a meaningless, nine-page word jumble...about ears.

EDIT (5/9/2020): It has been brought to my attention (courtesy of @heartenvy) that there is a mild inconsistency with the narrative that Beedle could be from the Surface: namely, the “unbreachable” Cloud Barrier, something Hylia herself created to divide Skyloft from the Surface and keep its inhabitants and the Triforce safe. However, I would argue that the Cloud Barrier is not a physical barrier so much as it is a mystical one, meant to both keep its location secret (the barrier itself is completely invisible from the Surface) and to ensure the people of Skyloft remain complacent in their isolation (believing Skyloft is all there is, they remain there, and in so doing their long-forgotten secrets are kept safe). Zelda is pulled through it long before any proper portals are actually opened, and I would argue that the portals (that is, the pillars of light that appear when we place the corresponding tablets) are largely a gameplay mechanic meant to keep the story linear, as in a real setting Link would have simply ridden his Loftwing to and from the Surface and would have been able to fly anywhere he chose. It’s possible the barrier acts to keep out evildoers, specifically (which would explain why Ghirahim had to summon a vortex to pull Zelda through it, where he could reach her), or, not unlike the Isla de Muerta in Pirates of the Caribbean, Skyloft could very well be “an island that cannot be found except by those who already know where it is” - which, to me, makes the narrative of Beedle finding his way there all the more entertaining (the dude must have been, like, super determined). In any case, I stand by what I’ve stated before: that Beedle is from the Surface, as his accent and the peculiarities of his shop make too strong a case to ignore.

* * * * *

*The Zelda Encyclopedia states that Termina is a Dream World, despite Link’s Awakening having already done this and in a much more satisfying way. I can’t take anything it says seriously.

(Special thanks to @ghiirahiims for the high-res screenshot of Beedle, and shoutout to @gaybellatrix for in no small part convincing me to finally sit down and write this all up.)

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wildlyglittering · 3 years

Text

The Journey Begins with a Smile

So ages ago (and I do mean ages) I asked people to give me some Nessian prompts and I had four requests. Not many so that’s completely doable I thought.

Since my request, things didn’t go so well for my personal life and then, on a global scale, a pandemic hit. Both those things meant I wasn’t writing or even reading much.

BUT I was determined to fill those requests - even if the requesters had forgotten or no longer cared! Luckily I have managed to get my groove back so am trying to ride the writing train for as long as it will carry me!

@ekaterinakostrova requested something where Cassian made Nesta smile for the first time. I’ve taken some liberties to fill the prompt but here it is. Finally.

I hope you enjoy!

***

The multi-level gardens of the Day Court stretched outwards like a labyrinth.

Unlike the Night Court, whose gardens were sensibly flat, Day’s held winding staircases which lead to a plethora of mezzanines, stacked one after another. Each offered a new delight; pools of water swimming with gold and white fish, pagodas draped with ever blossoming honeysuckle or fountains carved with the curved forms of caressing lovers.

Some paths appeared to lead to dead ends, but the experienced visitor long learnt appearances were deceiving. As long as the explorer had the foresight to move thickets of ivy and trailing roses aside, they would find smaller paths twisting towards secret grottos.

Aside from the romantic allure of mystery, the garden’s contained an energy which reverberated through Cassian’s bones. Although the deep calm of the Night Court lands was his preference, Cassian found staying in Day was never an unpleasant experience.

Wandering the gardens would have been its usual satisfying activity if not for the frustration simmering in Cassian’s veins. Not an hour before he’d bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted the copper of his blood before storming from the bedroom suites, leaving the other occupant behind.

His anger, and hers, were twins to each other. When the subject matter at hand arose, rational discussion dissipated like smoke in a storm and, as they were both apt to lose their tempers, that’s exactly what they did. After those times, it was best they stayed apart.

Being away from the Night Court brought up the familiar argument.

Cassian scrubbed a hand over his face, they were in Day on Rhys’ orders otherwise they wouldn’t have been there at all.

The knowledge of who Lucien was to Helion, and who the Lady of Autumn had been, was now widely known. Now, the painful possibility of civil war loomed over the Courts, brought on by the betrayal of an unwritten code of conduct. Helion was thinking ahead, reaching out to all potential allies in the hopes if he gained enough, Autumn would be dissuaded to start conflict.

There was no question Rhys would pledge to Helion.

It didn’t hurt though, Rhys said, to pay Day a visit.

Rhys spoke about contingency planning and counter-measure tactics but Cassian had known Rhys long enough to understand the guise. Under everything lay the ripple of the question of Spring’s allegiance and the inevitable shift of power towards the next generation of High Lords, including those Rhys was unable to befriend.

Custom dictated High Lords, and now High Lady, were the only ones to be allowed in the sanctum to speak politics. However, Rhys requested the attendance of his Inner Circle - where Rhys went, his most trusted followed.

What was less clear was the rationale behind Rhys’ request that those connected to the Inner Circle also attend. It was, Cassian believed, Rhys’ attempt to keep his friends compliant and a way to curry favour from others - namely Lucien who always hungered for time with Elain.

This secondary request was the one which opened the festering wound close to the surface of Nesta’s skin.

In an effort to find some calm, Cassian took to walking the gardens, like he had many times before. Like those times before, his steps took him a familiar route. Maybe, in the depths of his subconscious mind, he sought out what would bring him solace no matter how measly a sliver.

He ventured down a staircase, overflowing with floating lilacs, and onto a terrace which was surprisingly spacious for such a narrow-arched entrance.

This particular mezzanine was paved with sand coloured stone and framed by apple trees, their branches reaching towards each other like fingers. The waist high balcony overlooked the next level down – the glass domed ceiling of the sunken library.

This terrace, tucked away in the constructed gardens, housed the collection of seven statues who all faced inwards, into their circle, for eternity.

Like all statues in Day, the figures had been carved from marble run through with thick veins of gold and silver. Unlike the other statues, Cassian held an interest for these and these alone.

Whichever sculptor Helion found, he found one with talent. Despite the fact they were rock the sculptures contained something so painfully real. They were motionless yet their bodies held motion, they were emotionless yet their faces held emotion. When Cassian reached out to touch them, he swore there was bone beneath their stone skin.

Day was never more glorious then how she was now, in the full swing of her namesake and the wide blue sky called to Cassian to dance. Though his muscles ached to obey and his wings quivered in anticipation, he wouldn’t fly. Day was filled with sharp, ornate spires and he’d navigated a similar path unsuccessfully before.

But being trapped on the ground did nothing to help his mood; his legs shook, his eyes stung. Cassian was tired of the burning sun, tired of being apart from his friends, tired of the endless political deliberations of the other High Lords.

When he was unable to fly, Cassian needed to find other ways to curb his energy. One of those ways often involved his willing mate.

Except, at this current time she was not quite so willing. The blush pink rooms they were guests in were uncomfortably close to the rooms of others so Nesta didn’t want to make love to him here. She was even less likely to be inclined towards Cassian’s persuasions following their argument.

This was a radical departure from how they were in the isolation of their mountain cabin, especially in those final days. Time had turned into hourglasses and the sand of their lives trickled through their fingers fast then they breathed.

They couldn’t move to each other quick enough then, couldn’t remove their clothes fast enough, couldn’t press their bodies close enough.

Since their return to Velaris it was as though Nesta was turning into stone as cold and hard as the material of the statues Cassian now stared at.

Cassian sighed, drawing a deep breath of the lilac scented air into his lungs and walked towards one statue in particular. The one he thought of as his twin.

The stone fae stood high on the ends of its toes, as if it couldn’t bear to have any part of itself touching the ground. The arms stretched over its head, fingers straining upwards, begging for the sky to claim it. The figure didn’t have wings but Cassian imagined them, stretched out behind, broad and strong.

Cassian’s own wings, tangible flesh and bone, twitched as a breeze drifted past.

The circle existed for centuries but grew in number over the years. The first ones, the original ones, hadn’t changed but the way Cassian looked at them had. Once a carefree nature danced about them but, like all things weightless, that had floated away.

The invisible weight on them now was hard and heavy. Even the figure for the sky had something buried under the surface that hadn’t existed before.

Cassian was no fool – he recognised his own transference. What he saw; fatigue, anger, sorrow – these were his own burdens and in turn he projected them onto the poor stone creature in front of him willing it to absorb what he didn’t want.

Cassian ran his hand once more over his face. He wanted his effigy to take Nesta’s words which today were sharper than usual with insults flung towards his family with flippant ease. He reminded her that when she spoke with venom against them, she spoke venom against him.

Take your antidote then, she’d sneered, beg your friends to draw it all out if you think I’m such poison.

Nesta hadn’t been fully happy in the mountains but she’d been as close to peace as he’d ever seen. Finally, a part of Nesta was at rest, and the female Cassian loved was in a place he loved. All had been right for a time, their hearts in full growth, only to shrink into themselves when they were summoned back to Velaris.

Cassian would be misguided to think their arrival in Day was what agitated Nesta to begin the fight that morning. He could pretend she picked up on his restlessness or that she didn’t care much for the Court however the latter was a lie.

During her lengthy rehabilitation Nesta had visited Day on numerous occasions, sometimes with Cassian but often without. On the instances he visited her he was forced to choke down his jealousy at seeing Nesta and Hellion walking arm in arm, understanding that the High Lord of Day was playing a significant part in helping her heal.

Nesta would spend every minute in this place if Helion asked her to.

No, everything triggered from Rhys’ request that Nesta come to Day.

In Nesta’s eyes, Rhys’ request was a command; a command which served only to appease Rhys’ ego and prove he would always be able to demand the lives of those around him bend to his will.

Rhys wanted Cassian to be in Day and Rhys wanted Nesta to provide a pleasant distraction for Cassian’s restless nature. There was no other purpose.

The bitterness bled into Nesta at the fact Rhys demanded her attendance in a place she adored and would visit without complaint. Rhys had smirked it was the ‘without complaint’ he’d wanted from her for once.

She came only because Cassian had pleaded.

The heavy honeysuckle cloyed at Cassian’s nose and he decided to leave the gardens before he drowned in the scent of flowers. He’d find Az, a permanently sympathetic ear, who would patiently listen to Cassian’s complaints about how suffocated he was in a place he longer wished to be.

As he turned, a flash of marble hidden in the trees caught his eye.

Cassian hadn’t noticed anything else on this mezzanine before but it was no surprise, the white figure among the deep green leaves was set apart from the circle and tucked out of sight.

Drawing closer he saw the statue stood with its back to the rest, head titled downwards. The marble designed to be the hair splayed outwards as though caught in a tumultuous wind. Something about the statue, something about her, hollowed out Cassian’s chest.

“Why didn’t Helion put you with the others?”

“Because she doesn’t belong with the others.”

A voice, smoky and deep, carried across the space and Helion appeared from behind a wall of ivy onto the terrace next to him.

Cassian quirked an eyebrow. “I didn’t know about that secret passage.”

“That’s the whole point of it being a secret,” Helion said with a wistful sigh. “Now I’ll have to move it.”

“Don’t on my account.”

“And have you get here quicker to start your sulking? I don’t think so.”

Cassian opened his mouth to refute Helion’s words but the High Lord spoke over him.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” he said with a nod to the statue. “Out of all them, this one’s my favourite.” Helion turned to Cassian, dark skin glowing from the light within, mischief in his eyes.

Cassian bit his teeth together.

She was beautiful though, curves and angles, and the strength of stone. But who were they speaking of? The statue or Nesta herself?

“Why is she over here and not with the rest?”

The smugness slid from Helion’s face, his dark eyes scanning Cassian’s face, categorising every imperfection and scar as though he searched for something. Perhaps he wasn’t able to find what he wanted and a sad smile crept onto his face. “I told you – she doesn’t belong with the others. If I put her in the circle where would she gaze? At the ground? I won’t have that for her.”

Cassian’s mouth twisted, “She’s already looking at the ground.”

Helion cocked his head to the side, like one of the curious dogs in the mortal realm who sensed an invisible Cassian without truly perceiving him.

“Interesting how we can view something so differently. Tell me,” Helion said, “what are you seeing?”

They stood, arm length apart, one a High Lord and one a General. One draped in white and gold silks and the other clad in black leather. Winged and grounded.

Centuries existed between them with decades of Helion’s decadent parties where his fingertips would trail across the skin of Cassian’s muscled forearm, his mouth curled into a sensual smile. They’d not gone to bed with each other but shared at least one female over the years.

Here they stood in the sun; no lustful invitations, no pulling of rank. They were two males, competing in a game with stakes Cassian didn’t care for.

Still, he described her. Head downward, eyes downcast, eyelids. No sculptor would ever be able to create something so fine but Cassian swore there were delicate, long eyelashes casting a shadow against the sharp sculptured cheekbones. The graceful neck curved into a collarbone and clavicle with strands of stone hair caught in a storm of her own making.

Head and eyes down. This is what Cassian relayed to Helion. “Are you satisfied?” he growled, “I’m tired of playing.”

Cassian had jested over the years that Helion had a way of undressing him with his eyes, of looking beyond the armour and siphons to the male underneath. Helion had roared with delight and asked Cassian if he wanted to put that feeling into action.

Now, with the High Lord’s dark eyes on him, Cassian believed Helion was witnessing something deeper, that he was now staring beyond bone and blood.

“I know when you’re upset,” Helion said, glancing away, “and where you go when you are. You’ve walked this pathway numerous times and besides, these are my gardens, they tell me everything.” Helion’s eyes flickered back to Cassian, “You’re not as prone to idiocy as Rhys would have you be. Look again and try and do it properly.”

I have, Cassian wanted to tell him but he hadn’t.

Her stone feet were planted on solid ground, the stone hands down by her sides with the palms facing upwards. Her head was still down as were her eyes.

The figure seemed to change the longer he looked, one expression melting into another, completely different from before; disinterest, anger, peace. Cassian followed the line of her eyes to the gold domes roof of the sunken library glinting in the sunlight on the mezzanine below.

The statues full lips were tilted upwards into a smile, small but there.

“You don’t love Day,” Helion said to him, his deep voice breaking through the storm of Cassian’s thoughts.

“I enjoy it.”

“But Day will never be home.” Helion raised a robed arm towards the sky, long dark fingers stretching out, the light greedily swimming around his skin. “You seek freedom and you can’t find that here. So, my question to you oh miserable one, where do you find freedom?”

Cassian shrugged; this was an easy question and though Helion already had the answer, Cassian would play a little longer. “Velaris. The mountains.”

“And who are you free with?”

Helion’s tone was sly and conspiratorial as though he was inviting Cassian into a darkened room and asking him to share all his secrets, whispering across velvet pillows or through draped curtains. It was like honey dripped from Helion’s mouth.

Cassian’s fists clenched, tendons sliding over bones as he flexed his fingers.

Helion was skilled at drawing out confidences that most fae wanted to keep hidden. He emitted some strange magic which made Cassian want to dash to the nearest scribe and spill everything he had. Names and faces swam into Cassian’s mind, seemingly at Helion’s bidding, the most prominent being the one who spent her morning scowling at him.

Her name took shape at the end of Cassian’s tongue.

“You know who,” Cassian choked the words out in lieu of the ones that was forming, “don’t play your games.”

Helion stepped closer to the statue with a sigh and trailed a graceful finger across the carved lifeline on her upturned left palm. The line cut off not long after it started before beginning again, half a nail width away. It matched the real version perfectly.

Helion pouted and peered over the ledge. “It’s no fun if you don’t want to play but let’s not then, let me share with you a truth which your own truth speaker doesn’t care to bring to you. Nesta isn’t free in Velaris, but then you do know this.” Helion’s eyes glanced from the sun glinted library roof to Cassian’s face.

“She’s free here though. My statues, my darling beauties, represent the hearts of my most welcomed guests and while you are quick to immediately assume that Nesta spends her time staring at the ground, I see she is simply seeking her own peace.” Helion shrugged, gold and white silk sliding over smooth dark skin. “Freedom looks different for everyone.”

“I know that,” Cassian snarled, teeth bared, “I don’t need some heavy-handed lecture.”

The air began to pulse as an energy reverberated around the stone of the terrace. The tree branches shook and the leaves rustled. One growl of power to a disobeying dog. A warning; never bear your canines at a High Lord in the very Court his blood runs through.

Cassian uncurled his fists, splaying his fingers in Helion’s eyeline. Acquiescence. Cassian was guilty of foolish behaviour but he was no fool.

Helion’s tone had bite. “I’ll forgive your misjudgement on account of your poorly developed emotional response mechanism but only this once. You get away with burying your head when in the Night Court but I won’t have it here. Let me speak plain - this statue is an everlasting part of my garden but it’s rock, expensive rock, but rock. I would happily welcome the originator of its visage to become a permanent member of my Court. I think she’d accept, don’t you?”

Although the power of Helion still sang its presence, Cassian restrained the urge to turn feral. He didn’t, wouldn’t, because despite what others thought, Cassian was no animal. Besides, some part of Helion’s words wormed their way through Cassian’s brain.

Perhaps Helion discerned the calm Cassian was desperately trying to maintain because his voice was soft when he next spoke. “You have two options my handsome friend; go together to a place where you are both equally as free or find your freedom apart. Sacrifices have to be made and they shouldn’t all be hers.”

The sweet scent of roses and lilacs drifted through the mezzanine and Cassian looked down at the statue’s open palm.

“You can spend your time out here staring at an exquisitely carved piece of stone or you can reach for something real,” Helion said. “Your choice.”

Cassian thought of the circle of statues at his back, most especially the one on its toes spending centuries reaching for something that never came.

The squeeze on Cassian’s shoulder was gentle. “You’ll find her in the library,” Helion told him, “but then, you already knew that.”

Cassian sighed and closed his eyes and when he’d opened them, Helion had gone. Only the hanging ivy swaying by the wall was any indication of where he’d gone. Cassian looked back at the statue’s calm and serene face before trailing a fingertip onto the other open palm, half expecting her hand to curl around his, finding that he wanted it to.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “I knew.”

Cassian wanted everything; Nesta, the Inner Circle, Velaris. He wanted his freedom; long fought for and hard won. He could have all those things if he pushed hard enough - but only for a time. His desires co-existing side by side would have lasted as long as a breath in the span of his lifetime.

There will be cost and Cassian understood the price.

He left the mezzanine and its sculptured delights behind. They were just statues, fixed to stand forever. Living things were meant to move.

The library was cooler than outside, filled with white marble columns and an expansive white marble floor making the space larger and lighter. Ivy weaved its way up the columns while the golden domed roof provided a welcoming warmth, counterbalancing the coolness of the stone.

Nesta was exactly where Cassian knew to find her, tucked away in her favourite loveseat under an arch in the romance section.

In the mountains Nesta told him how she spent her days in the Day Court; meals with Helion, walks with Helion, talks with Helion.

They all made Cassian’s stomach twist.

Nesta also told him she learnt to be alone with her thoughts. In those moments she went to the library, one of the few places she found comforting. There hadn’t been many safe spaces on offer to her in Prythian.

Cassian stood a small distance away behind one of the larger columns, folding his wings in as tight as he was able.

Nesta would always be one of the most beautiful females he’d ever seen. As she was now, with her head bent to her pages, she matched the statue above their heads; watchful and waiting.

Her face, smooth and still, could have been carved from stone, a testament to how expressionless she could be. If Cassian hadn’t experienced the passion, the sadness and the rage which existed underneath he would have believed she felt nothing at all.

Her cool voice carried across to him.

“Are you going to spend all your time lurking in the shadows?”

“I don’t lurk.”

Nesta looked over briefly, a delicate eyebrow raised, her pink lips downturned. Those blue-grey bore into him. She wasn’t in the mood for playing.

Cassian sighed and walked toward her. At least, he thought, Nesta shifted on the loveseat to make room for him. After their argument he thought she would be more inclined to try and beat him with the book she’d turned back to read.

They sat in strained silence. Nesta’s soft breaths out of sync with Cassian’s. She inhaled on his exhale. Everything was out of sync with them, even down to the core.

Cassian let out another sigh. Maybe he could fix this, re-set where they were going wrong. He shifted, his leg brushing against hers, so he could see her while he spoke.

“I was speaking with Helion,” he said.

Nesta kept her face to her book but raised an eyebrow again, “Oh.”

“Yes, in the garden.”

“Hmm,” she murmured and turned a page.

“He found me through one of his secret passageways.”

Nesta’s lips quirked into a small smile, “Now he’ll have to change it, so you don’t find it.”

“Yes, that’s what he said.”

“He has many that he’s always changing. I wouldn’t worry.”

“I’m not.”

The silence fell over them again like a fog. They’d reduced themselves to small talk between strangers, Cassian at a loss for what to say and Nesta with no desire to help him find his words.

“He found me in the statue circle.”

She was about to turn another page, although she hadn’t really been reading since he sat down, but her fingers stumbled and she dropped the book which landed with a thud.

Cassian picked it up, the gold embossed words on a cover of rich green telling a story of love. Nesta reached out and as she did, Cassian used his other hand to grasp her wrist, “Nes...”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes, her throat bobbing as she swallowed. “Let me go.”

It was a weak command, her voice shaking as she spoke but Cassian would always obey her will and he released her wrist. Nesta snatched at her book.

She didn’t open the cover, abandoning her pretence of reading and instead placed the volume on her lap, staring upwards towards the ceiling.

“I hate those statues,” she said.

“I know.”

“You have to visit them every time you’re here.”

“Not every time,” he replied but she turned, looking him in the eye.

“Yes, every time. I’ve seen you and I’ve felt you through the bond.” She looked away and started to trail the lettering on the cover with a fingernail. “Besides, Helion tells me you visit them a lot.”

Well, Helion is a spy and a snitch, Cassian wanted to say but bit those words down. This was Helion’s court and those were his garden’s, his statue’s. He went where he pleased and talked to whomever he pleased, and that, unfortunately, included Nesta.

“After our argument this morning I knew you would go there instead of coming to see me,” Nesta continued, “you and that damned circle.” Her voice cracked and she bent forward, placing her face in her hands so Cassian couldn’t see. Strands of hair fell from her crown braid over her forehead.

“Nesta,” he said, and Cassian took her wrists in his hands, gently pulling them away from her face.

Her face had blanched a stark white and the rims of her eyes were tinged pink. Despite the sheen of tears in them, Cassian knew she wouldn’t allow herself to cry. Nesta always found a way of shoving everything into a box in her soul.

“You all get to spend eternity gawping at each other in every Court in every form, don’t you?” She snatched her hands away, smoothing down the frayed hairs away from her face, wiping at her eyes.

“They’re just statues,” he said.

“I know,” she hissed, “Don’t be belligerent Cassian, we both know you’re too smart for that.”

“I’m not being-” but he stopped speaking and sat back against the marble wall, his wings hitting them with a bang.

Cassian closed his eyes, trying to think of what to say to make any of this better. He thought back to their argument in the bedroom, mere hours ago which felt like days, surrounded by excessive amounts of silk in various shades of pink.

“There’s a statue of you,” he said, envisaging it like some lost old memory and not something he had been staring at less than hour ago. The image was clear in his mind; the windswept hair, the upturned palms, that lovely but sad face with its hopeful, delicate smile.

“I know.”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, I think I do.”

“It’s set apart from the others.”

Cassian heard the rustling of her dress as Nesta shifted. “Helion told me he wanted it separate from the rest because it didn’t suit the others.”

Cassian’s heart picked up its pace, “What do you think about that?”

“I agreed. The statue should be away from the rest. It doesn’t fit with the others.” Nesta let out a gentle sigh. “I don’t fit with the others.”

Cassian opened his eyes and stared into the distance.

The gardens were a labyrinth and the sunken library even more so, rows of white bookcases lined with vibrant colours, pastels or even shimmering golds stretched outwards until they stopped short of the central atrium, right underneath the top of the dome. The light shone through in beams and specks of dust danced amongst them.

They both sat rigid and unmoving with muscles locked into place and stared ahead, not at the rows of books but at the future in front of them, at decisions that would take them away or bring towards.

“Would that suit you?” Cassian asked, his voice thick. “Being apart from us? Elain? Amren? Me?”

Nesta’s fingers twitched on her lap, digging deep into the material of her skirts. “I don’t need to consider Amren in my plans and she knows this. Elain will understand in time; besides she has her own life now and gets to live the way she wishes so I don’t understand why I cannot.”

She paused. “Feyre will be irritated but she’ll come around in time. She’ll have to.”

“And me?”

The seconds of silence lasted longer than Cassian liked. There was no definitive answer, no immediate outpouring of emotion. His breath rasped in his ears and now he could hear Nesta’s, finally in time with his own. Her voice was quiet, travelling from a universe away.

“You can’t seem to understand why I don’t love the Night Court as much as you do so I don’t know whether you’ll come around in time.” Nesta picked at a loose thread on her dress. The more she pulled, the more it seemed she unravelled the sinews in his heart. “I don’t know how much longer I can wait until you do, if you do. I don’t heal in the Night Court; I can’t heal among those who hate me.”

Cassian wanted to reassure her; to say he would understand why she couldn’t love the Night Court, that eventually she would heal amongst the copper roof tops of Velaris and she was never amongst those who hated her. The words stuck in his throat and burned.

His love for the place he called home was built in his bones, constructed as part of him as he had wings on his back. Without his home he wouldn’t be Cassian of the Night Court, he wouldn’t be anyone.

“Helion has offered me a home here,” she continued.

Cassian nodded, his head bobbing on a neck that now felt too thin. Cassian understood Helion wanted to offer Nesta a home in Day, he wasn’t aware he already had. “Would you be happy here?”

“I think so.” Nesta let out a mirthless laugh, “Day is the opposite of Night and so the Court would suit me just fine.”

Something burnt inside his chest. His overworked, overwrought centuries old heart was now in flames and this was the beginning of it turning to ash.

“I can’t live in Day,” he said. “The Court is fine enough but this place would become to me what Night is to you. It wouldn’t sustain me.”

“We’re at an impasse then. The road ahead of us is splitting.” Nesta spoke the words with cold, impassive authority, the kind of tone she used for others which led them to assume she was a heartless creature.

But Cassian could feel her as he always had. A crack across her heart ran deeper than anything before. She’d been through hell and come out the other side carrying what pieces of herself remained within her clenched fists. This couldn’t be the event which broke her, he couldn’t be the fae that broke her.

Sacrifices, Helion told him less than an hour ago, needed to be made. But not all sacrifices needed to be a bad thing. Sacrificing something didn’t mean you would always lose; it may mean winning something more valuable.

“Yes,” he said, voice soft, “if you think the road only has two paths to choose from.”

Nesta took in his words, and Cassian could sense the moment they landed in her mind, how she sounded out their meanings. A strand of wavering hope rose between them.

“Oh,” she said but her voice held a tremor, the edge of anticipation she was clinging to and the thread wound itself tighter round her finger until her flesh turned white.

“I believe this morning an angry female hissed at me about retreating back to the mountains and staying in the cabin forever.”

Nesta pursed her lips. “Well, I believe the female had a right to be angry as I believe said female was being abandoned by her mate.”

“He would never.”

“Hmm.”

Cassian ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots. “I don’t want to leave them,” he said.

Nesta’s shoulders sagged and her hope dissipated from her like smoke. “I know,” she said, “I just-”

“However,” he interrupted, “that doesn’t mean I won’t leave them. At least on a semi-permanent basis.”

Nesta took a deep breath in.

“I can’t live here,” he gestured outwards to the marble pillars and trailing ivy and streams of violently bright light. “Day isn’t for me but Night isn’t for you. My life is in Velaris and I have responsibilities that I can’t leave and friends I want to see, but as long as I’m somewhere near, somewhere I can fly to them I think that will be fine.”

Nesta released her breath and Cassian carried on. “I can’t lose them Nesta but I won’t lose you. I’ve waited a long time for you even before I understood what I was waiting for. If Velaris will destroy you then at some point the city will destroy me too.”

He continued to stare ahead but Nesta’s arm brushed against his as she moved, her slight frame against his broad one. From the corner of his eye, he saw her pale face gazing at him and if he turned to her, he would see her hope anew.

“The cabin needs more work to make it habitable all year round and the winters are hard and isolating. I’ll need to fly to Velaris more often than you would want and you’re still going to have to visit your sisters. Honestly, I’d hate to make Elain angry.”

There was a soft sob next to him. “I’d hate to make Elain angry too,” but she smiled through her tears.

“We’ll have to think of a way to transport all your books. I’m not flying them to the cabin, not if you’re bringing that twelve book saga you’re into with the-”

Nesta grasped his chin in her slender fingers and turned his face to hers. Shining in those blue-grey eyes through the misty layer of tears was pure delight.

“Thank you,” she whispered and brought her mouth to his. The kiss was sweet on his lips, soft and slow and filled with the promise she would always love him. Cassian deepened the kiss, sliding his hands over her waist before trailing upwards on her back to tangle in her hair.

They stayed like that for a while, his tongue seeking out and sliding against hers; wet, luxurious kiss after kiss. Cassian groaned and gripped Nesta’s hips, fingers digging into the flesh beneath her dress and he swung her up and over onto his lap.

She pulled her mouth away and gasped, “No! Not here, not in front of the books!”

“The gardens then?” he joked and received a flick to his chin for his trouble.

“Helion will be disappointed.”

“That’s perverse.”

“No,” Nesta crinkled her nose, “that I won’t be making my home here.”

Cassian trailed his hands up Nesta’s back to her hair, tangling the strands around his fingers, looking forward to when he could make it took as disordered as her glorious statue’s. “Make this place your holiday destination. I’m sure you’ll frequent Day every time I’m in Velaris.”

“I’m sure you’re right.”

“And when we’re done appeasing the world we’ll be together again, at home.”

Nesta’s eyes scanned his face, the way Helion’s had done earlier, but instead of an assessment that had left Cassian found wanting, her eyes were soft and the blue-grey was the colour of the sky in the Night Court just after a storm.

“Yes,” she said, “at home.” She leaned in to kiss him again and before Cassian closed his eyes he soaked in the image, letting it burn forever into his mind. A perfect picture of Nesta in the flesh; her fluttering eyelashes, freckled nose and the sweetest smile he’d ever seen.

#nessian #fanfiction #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron x cassian #nesta #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosaf #acosf #helion #i wrote something #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nessian fan fiction #nessianfic #nessian fan fic

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bechloeislegit · 3 years

Text

My Spy - Chapter 5

RING.

Chloe shot up in bed, looking around. When she was awake enough to realize her phone ringing is what woke her, she grabbed her phone and checked the caller ID.

"It's early on a Sunday and my day off, Jason," Chloe said, answering the call. "This had better be good!"

"Good morning to you, too, Sunshine," Jason's voice said through the phone.

"Bite me," Chloe said. "What do you want, Jason?"

"We just got word that DSM is coming back to the U.S.," Jason said. "The Director has scheduled a briefing in an hour. Do you want me to pick you up?"

"I'll meet you there," Chloe said and ended the call, mumbling, "There goes my day off."

Chloe threw off the covers and got out of bed. She went into the bathroom, wincing when she saw herself in the mirror. Blond hair was not her best look.

Chloe ran a hand through the short blonde waves and grabbed her toothbrush, putting toothpaste on it. She stuck the toothbrush in her mouth and turned on the shower.

Once Chloe was dressed and ready, she glanced through her notes. Having been the one to infiltrate DSM, she had gotten close to Kommissar, their leader. It was her intel the agency was using to finally put a stop to the German group from smuggling drugs into the United States.

Chloe threw her notes, phone, and wallet into her backpack before walking out the door.

~~ My Spy ~~

"Chloe," Matt said as Chloe entered the briefing room. "Can I see you for a minute?"

"Sure," Chloe said and followed Matt back out into the hallway.

"I'm going to need you to sit this one out," Matt said.

"What? Why?"

"DSM came to the U.S. to take over a singing tour from the Barden Bellas," Matt said. "You could compromise the whole operation if any of the Bellas see you with any member of DSM."

"First, it's been almost three years," Chloe said. "The Bellas have forgotten all about me. And, look at me; I don't look the same as I did back then. They would hardly recognize me now."

"All the Bellas?" Matt asked.

"And, second," Chloe continued, ignoring Matt's comment referencing Beca. "There is no information that we have that would put the Bellas in any place at the same time as DSM."

"But there is a possibility that could happen," Matt countered.

"The smallest of slight possibilities, maybe," Chloe said, running a hand through her hair. "Uncle Matt, I already told you that Beca moved on a long time ago and so have I. I've put a year of my life into getting Kommissar to trust me. I can't let all that time have been for nothing. Are you willing to go back to square one on this? Because that is what will happen if I'm suddenly out of the picture. Kommissar is not stupid; she'll know something is up and we will lose whatever advantage we have to take them down."

"I guess you're right," Matt sighed. "Come on. Let's get this briefing started."

Chloe nodded and followed Matt back into the briefing room.

~~ My Spy ~~

After the briefing ended, Chloe walked with her partner, Jason, to the IT Services office.

"Yo, Blondie," Agent Marc Donaldson, laughingly called out as they entered. "I got something special for you today."

Chloe smiled as she made her way over to the table where Marc was standing.

"Let's see what you've got," Chloe said, looking at the various items on the table.

"Well, since Director Collins was concerned about the Bellas being around and recognizing you," Marc said, reaching for a pair of leather cuff-like bracelets. "I've come up with a few things that should help keep you from having your cover blown."

Chloe took one of the bracelets. She looked it over and then looked at Marc.

"What's so special about these?"

"They have a hidden wire in them," Marc said. "Virtually undetectable if you are searched."

"I helped come up with the bracelet idea," Jason said, taking the second bracelet and handing it to Chloe. "They serve two purposes. You can record conversations and also cover up your ladybug tattoo."

Chloe looked down at the tattoo Jason mentioned as if seeing it for the first time. Covering it up was for the best; all the Bellas knew about her tattoo and would surely recognize it if they saw it.

"Good idea," Chloe said, snapping the bracelets on her wrists. "What else you got?"

Marc picked up a pair of large-framed sunglasses with very dark lenses. "These have a small camera built into the frames. We can watch everything you see in real-time and it will also record everything back to a link I'll send you to download on your laptop."

Chloe took the glasses and put them on. Marc turned and punched a few keys on his computer, positioning the monitor so Chloe and Jason could see. Chloe came into view, looking back at herself on the monitor.

"Look around so I can see if I need to adjust anything," Marc told Chloe.

Chloe looked around as Marc and Jason both watched the monitor.

"Perfect!" Marc said.

"Look at me," Jason told Chloe.

Chloe looked at him and he studied her face. He looked into the lenses and then smiled.

"They hide your baby blues, too," Jason said.

"That's even better," Marc said. "Gotta admit, Beale, your eyes are pretty unforgettable. Even with blond hair and that scar on your cheek, one look into your eyes by someone you know and your cover would definitely be blown."

Before Chloe could respond, Director Matt Collins walked in and walked over to stand next to Chloe and Jason.

Nothing was said and Chloe looked at her Uncle Matt; Matt looked back at her.

"Let me know as soon as you hear from Kommissar," Matt finally said.

Before Chloe could respond, one of her phones pinged with a text notification. Chloe pulled out the phone and read the message.

"Speak of the devil," Chloe said, looking from Matt to Jason. "It's Kommissar letting me know DSM is arriving in Atlanta later today and she's ready to talk about a large shipment if I'm still interested."

"Tell her you're definitely interested," Matt said. "And set up a time and place to meet."

Chloe did and waited for a reply, which came back almost immediately.

"She wants to meet tomorrow at the Metro Mall in downtown Atlanta," Chloe told Matt. "DSM has some kind of show there."

"Grab your go-packs and meet me at the hangar in thirty," Matt told Chloe and Jason.

"Yes, sir," Jason and Chloe said.

"Good luck," Marc called out as they headed for the door.

"Thanks, Donaldson," Chloe said and followed her Uncle Matt and Jason out of the room.

~~ My Spy ~~

As the jet made its way to Atlanta, Chloe and Jason were given a final briefing by Director Collins. Chloe tried to remain focused but kept slipping up and calling the Director, Uncle Matt. He didn't say anything but she knew she needed to be more careful when speaking with him, especially when other agents were around.

"I want you to be extra careful, Chloe," Matt said. "We have word that the Germans have shipped several cargo containers to the U.S. They are scheduled to arrive over the next few days at several different ports around the country. Atlanta is not a port area, which means they'll want you to travel elsewhere to get the shipment. We won't know which one of the shipments has the drugs in them until we know where they are sending you."

"That won't be a problem, Director," Chloe said. "I'll give them the standard I have to run it by my bosses schtick. That should appease them until we can make a plan to intercept the shipment."

"That's good," Matt said. "We'll need to know as soon as you are given the pickup location."

"I got this, boss," Chloe said, smiling.

~~ My Spy ~~

Chloe entered her Atlanta "apartment" and threw her bags on the sofa. She placed her briefing book and laptop on the coffee table and went to the kitchen. She checked the refrigerator and was not surprised to see it had been fully stocked. The agency always had "homes" for undercovers and made sure to make it look like someone lived there. This allowed the agent to plan meetings in their "homes" without raising any suspicions.

Chloe grabbed a bottle of water and made her way back to the living room, sitting on the sofa and opening the briefing book. She read through several of the notes she had made during the last interaction with Kommissar.

Kommissar and her DSM co-captain Pieter appear to be in a relationship

Kommissar and Pieter are not exclusive; they both have an eye for the ladies

Pieter may be the weak link we need to explore

Should check DSM's previous travels; may be able to work with another country to bring them down

Chloe pulled her laptop toward her and started searching DSM's website to find out where they had traveled in the last six months. She wasn't the least bit surprised to see they had been to almost every known drug exporting country in the world.

Chloe did some more research and found DSM's travels from three years back and was surprised to see they had been to Mexico on several occasions during the time Chloe had been undercover at Barden.

Chloe got excited because they have been trying to determine where in Mexico the drug pipeline had originated. Maybe she could get some information from Kommissar or Pieter to kill two birds with one stone - close down the Mexican pipeline once and for all and stop the Germans from smuggling drugs into the U.S.

Seeing the Mexican connection took Chloe back to her time at Barden, specifically to the day she lost Beca. She couldn't help the tears that stung her eyes as she remembered the look on Beca's face as she and the Bellas watched their professors and fellow students being arrested by Chloe and the other law enforcement agents.

Chloe scoffed when she thought of how Beca's father to this day was claiming his innocence. The evidence against him was more than overwhelming, and Chleo felt he deserved a much longer prison sentence than he received. Chloe had been made aware that the Prosecutors had tried to flip Mr. Mitchell, but he held fast to his claims of innocence. She couldn't blame him for that. If he told what he knew, he was admitting he was guilty and that wasn't something he was eager to do.

Chloe's mind wandered back to Beca. How was she handling her dad being in prison? Does she visit him? What does Beca's mother think of her ex-husband being involved in a drug ring? Did she know about his involvement? Was she involved as well?

Chloe shivered at the memory of her interaction with Beca's mother; that woman was one scary bitch.

Chloe pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts, stopping when she landed on Beca's number.

"Beca is just an hour away from here," she thought. "I wonder if she'll want to meet so we can talk?"

"Forget it, Beale," Chloe mumbled aloud. "It's been three years; it's time to let it go."

Chloe threw her phone onto the table and went back to her briefing book.

~~ My Spy ~~

Memories of Beca kept bouncing around in Chloe's head. So much so that they invaded her dreams.

Chloe flopped back on the bed, laughing as Beca crawled her way up Chloe's body. Beca kissed every inch of Chloe's bare skin as she made her way up, finally landing on Chloe's lips. The kiss was full of passion and want.

"Ready for another round?" Beca asked in between kisses.

"I'm ready for round 3," Chloe responded, in between more kisses. "And round 4, and round 5,-"

"God, I love you," Beca whispered before fully capturing Chloe's lips.

Chloe woke up with a start. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin on her forearm.

"I should reach out to Beca," Chloe mumbled and reached for her phone. "Maybe I'll get lucky and she'll want to talk."

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

A/N: It's a little shorter than the previous chapters, but I needed to end it here so I can dive a bit deeper into things in the next chapter. I'm building up to something so stick with me for the ending. I think it will be worth it.

A/N 2: I had said I wasn't posting this week because of BeChloe Week but since I completed this chapter I thought I'd go ahead and post it today. The next chapter will be posted on Thursday next week and the following chapters on subsequent Thursdays.

#bechloe fanfiction #beca mitchell #chloe beale #bechloeislegit

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