#when i was looking at apartments in the winter i found this brand new $13 million mansion that was just. so fucking tacky

[hcax]

☼☾ ( maia reficco , 21 , she/her , ciswoman , cailleach, cordoba family youngest daughter ) - have you seen Josephine Cordoba?  they’ve been living in afon vale for 21 years and they really think they’re safe. people say that they’re loyal but i heard they’re cunning. you can usually find them working as a florist at smillow flower shop. they’ve tried hard to keep that they used necro calling and puppeting before and still does buried but the truth always comes out. a few things that remind me of them are ... freshly made coffee, a brand new sweater feeling warm yet itchy, having a picnic with friends in a spring afternoon, going to the beach in a calm winter day just to watch the dark sea.

basics

full name: Josephine Cordoba.

nickname/alias: Joss.

gender: Female.

sexuality: Bisexual with no preferences.

age, birthday and star sign: 21, July 13th, Cancer.

occupation: Florist.

song: to be added.

appearance

faceclaim: Maia Reficco.

height: 5'3.

eyecolor: Brown.

haircolor: Dark brown.

tattoos/scars/key features: faded cordoba family mark.

personality

positive traits: Friendly, loyal and thoughtful.

negative traits: Cunning, indecisive and resentful.

other

species: cailleach

pets: june (cat)

background

as a kid, Josephine always felt left out and as if she didn't have a place anywhere. her best friends were her siblings and maybe she had one or two friends at school. she spent the majority of her time at recess with her brothers or with her teachers in the classroom chatting and "helping out". The comfort her teachers gave her later on made her want to become a teacher herself to offer that comfort to other's.

when she reached the age of 10, she made a friend that died of unknown causes a few years later when they were about 13. when Josephine turned 15 she felt lonely enough to decide to use necro calling and try reaching out to her friend. Josephine's mother found out and they had a big argument that led to their relationship being even more estranged than it already was.

that same year Joss started to have part times jobs, the main one being tutoring lessons and the other being bartending at a cafe near her house. when she turned 18 she started working at the flower shop her deceased best friends parent's owned, while also majoring in education.

Joss has had used puppeting before. one night coming back home from work a guy tried to rob her and it just kicked in as an instinct to puppet him away, which worked.

after those couple's experiences using so-called banned spells, she stopped being so afraid of using them and has used them or considered doing so way more constantly. never doing so in front of her mother or family in general though.

even though Joss and her mother weren't close, her mother always looked out for her in her own way and also made Joss this huge standard to fulfill regarding her abilities and education.

currently Joss is in her last year of college and lives in a cozy apartment with her best friend and roomate.

#whvspers:intro #J.C ─ intro.

[eugeniedanglars]

BEYOND obsessed with this house in fort worth, texas i mean

okay pretty normal, let’s look at the interior photos—

WHAT THE FUCK

here we see the first example of a pattern that will recur throughout the house, which is that once your eyes adjust to the bonkers dictator chic marble-and-gilded-everything, you notice some pretty egregiously shoddy workmanship. look at how that baseboard intersects with the outlet. look at how the marble... uh, thing on the wall (i was gonna call it a fireplace but it’s not a fireplace, i have no idea what that is) has gaps and weird angles wherever two pieces meet. it’s like they’re trying to recreate versailles on an ikea budget

i... don’t hate the kitchen. i mean, obviously it’s ugly and #toomuch and there was zero effort made to match the very modern appliances and sink to the cabinets, but still, i’m a sucker for a pass-through and a big sink with a window above it.

this ceiling Fucks but the wrinkly, uneven curtains and terrible caulking around the faux-column in the middle anti-Fuck

why did we suddenly completely switch aesthetics. why is there an old TV set into the wall at floor level. why is there a tiny set of doors next to it. why does the fireplace look like an asset ripped from the original dark souls. i feel a sinister presence sucking at my soul the longer i look at this photo

i feel like whoever designed this monstrosity started with the dining room and then once they’d finished it realized they’d blown half their budget on just this one room. it’s so overdecorated that the gaudiness feels intentional, like it’s a statement rather than a side effect of genuine tastelessness. i can applaud that.

here we have the antithesis of the dining room. i don’t know what this room is supposed to be but i hate it. i’m pretty sure everything in this photo literally came from ikea. there is a lack of commitment here and it is rancid

ladies, gentlemen, distinguished colleagues, we have now hit the cornerstone of any great tacky real estate listing: the heart-shaped bathtub! this one gets bonus points for being next to a gilded mirror and surrounded by bright red damask wallpaper. as a bathtub i’d give it a 1/10 because those angles look incredibly uncomfortable, but as a place to shoot my lover through the heart while wearing a gauzy fur-trimmed bathrobe before fleeing with our ill-gotten fortune i’d give it a solid 11/10

here we are with the lack of commitment again. this literally looks like the kitchen in my college dorm but with a weird fringey lamp and some curtains that are absolutely too long for their windows

again, the mix of styles here is just killing me. half damask wallpaper and carved wall panels, half normal-ass bathroom? really? isn’t there anything truly unhinged left in this house? anything truly opulent, decadent, off the chain, extravagant, gaudy—

THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT BAY BEE!!! THAT’S MORE THE FUCK LIKE IT!!! COMMIT! TO! THE! BIT! GO BIG OR GO HOME! IF YOU’RE GONNA STICK A CEILING DOME IN THE FOYER OF YOUR SUBURBAN TEXAS HOUSE IT HAD BETTER BE TWELVE FEET IN DIAMETER AND PAINTED WITH DOZENS OF FLOWERS OR ELSE WHAT THE FUCK ARE WE EVEN DOING HERE??

and finally, to close out the show, a reminder that this entire acid trip of a real estate listing took place in an ordinary, modern single-story house in texas, one with a backyard and utility boxes on the exterior walls and neighbors who may be blissfully unaware that they live mere feet from a yawning pit of madness.

i love tacky real estate listings.

#real estate #idk how the fuck to tag this i just really need people to experience it with me #long post for ts #house hunting #(except not really because it's not for sale and also who in their right mind would want to live here) #there are more photos at the link fyi!! #i really do love tacky real estate listings #when i was looking at apartments in the winter i found this brand new $13 million mansion that was just. so fucking tacky #not as tacky as this mind you but still pretty tacky #architecture #spaces #also i'm sorry for the lack of image descriptions but 1. i've been up since 5 AM and my brain is shutting down #and 2. i honestly don't know how the fuck to describe what i'm seeing in these photos #eta: yall i literally tried to write image descriptions the day after posting this and got exhausted halfway through #because there's just so much going on and half the time idk what the fuck i'm looking at #i'm still gonna try to do them!! but it's going to be a multi-day process #also for the record i know the bathtub looks like a sink but i'm 90% sure it's a tub #i didn't include them but the listing has other photos of that bathroom that show the actual sink #so unless whoever made this monstrosity decided to put a second larger sink in the floor (which i wouldn't put past them) it's a tub #over 1k #over 10k

[coepiteamare]

you have (1) new voicemail

pairing: jimin x reader (though what their relationship is is unclear) genre: mystery, angst (? as always), fluff (like a wee bit), epistolary fic! warning: mentions of a ballet accident (nothing detailed, just that something happened), jimin is missing, implied!depression beta reader: hana! @cutechim​ this story would not have happened without you and i absolutely adore you. also thank you to noor @papillonsgf​ because you were the first person i talked to about this story and uhhhhh well let’s just say this story may be different than what you were expecting word count: 4.9k (this used to be drabble series lmao)

things you said series: things you said through the phone summary: “Hi, Jimin. It’s me.” (alt. you leave voicemails for jimin when taehyung asks you if you’ve heard from him recently.)

A/N: this is all dialogue, which is ironic—to say the least—because i find dialogue painfully difficult to write (it doesn’t come naturally to me, it conflicts with my writing style, and it’s just difficult to write it in a way that feels real.) nonetheless, i hope it comes across the way i wanted it to, and i hope it makes you feel something. 

December 5th at 14:30

Hi, Jimin. It’s me. 

I know we haven’t talked in a while, but-uhm-I saw Taehyung a couple days ago? I happened to be near where that cafe is—what’s it called—Moodspresso! Do you remember it? We wanted to go when it was new, back when you were taking that coffee-making class with Yoongi. You were such a dork: you wanted to go all around the city to judge cafes by their espressos, even though you weren’t a fan of the bitterness.  

We never did get around to trying it together: I think we tried to make plans, but it was out of the way of where we were, and then life happened, and then, well...it happened. 

When I saw it, it felt strange, as if a fragment of my past found its way into my present? It was kind of funny how I went in there thinking about you, only to see Taehyung. Weirdly fitting, considering how the two of you were always together, joined at the hip in college.

Anyway, he asked me if I had heard from you recently? Told me you haven’t texted him in a while, that you weren’t answering your phone, so I just wanted to check in! You know, say hi! I—uhm—tried to text you, but it wouldn’t deliver, so I figured I would just leave a voice message. I hope that’s okay. I hope you’re doing okay. If you hear this, you should probably text Taehyung; it seems like he’s worried. Said you usually respond within the day, but you haven’t been lately.

I-uhm-hope you’re doing okay. Text me back and let me know? 

Bye, Jimin.

*beep*

December 12th at 15:21

Uh, hey Jimin. I didn’t hear from you, so I thought I would check back in.

I saw on facebook that Jeongguk’s dating. Isn’t that strange? I mean, it’s not strange that he’s dating; it’s just strange that it’s Jeongguk who’s dating. You know, our Jeonggukkie, the one who could barely talk to his crushes without getting tongue tied. 

It seems like not too long ago he was the scrawny high schooler stressing about college applications, but he’s dating now. We used to help him with his personal statements and here he is. Dating. That’s just—wow. Time flies, I guess. 

I don’t know if you’ve kept in touch with him lately, so i just wanted to let you know. You know, in case you didn’t see it. 

I-

This is so stupid; I’m so sorry. 

Uhm, let me know if you get this?

Bye, Jimin.

*beep*

December 14th at 19:42

I went to the bookstore today and I saw that your favourite manga released its final volume. That’s so...wild. 

I remember you were reading it when I first met you in high school and to think that it’s over? That’s like Supernatural coming to an end, you know? Something that has gone on for so long that it feels weird that it’s ending. That it’s no longer a part of our lives that grows with us. It’s something that has an ending. 

Speaking of endings, I don’t know if you’ve seen the ending of Supernatural, but don’t do it. It just-wow. 

Anyways, I haven’t kept up with the manga, but when I saw that they released the final volume, I felt the need to buy it? I went in to buy something else and came out with all of the volumes that I hadn’t read. 

I could have just read them online, I know, but I figured, if I see you again, I'd give you the final volume? Unless you already have it. Then I’d just keep it, but...you know. I just-

It made me think of you. How you transferred in late in the school year with crutches, and even though you were new, you weren’t paying attention in math class. I remember my first impression of you being “he must not care about school.” I think I later learned you had just started reading the manga a couple days ago and wanted to catch up because you couldn’t think about anything else.  

It didn’t even matter that you didn’t pay attention that week or that you came in mid-school semester because you aced every class. I thought it was because you were smart without trying, which irked me because I always felt like I was trying and not accomplishing—though I suppose that still applies now—but I later learned how much effort you put in. You always tried so hard that you made things seem easy. School work. Your happiness. Your feelings to a certain extent. 

I just-

I wish-

Nevermind.

I hope you’re doing okay.

*beep*

December 17th at 13:21.

Hey, Jimin.

I tried to make pasta today, and I don’t know how, but I managed to get the sauce everywhere. Everywhere but in the pan. So now, my kitchen looks like a bloody crime scene with red everywhere. I don’t even know how I’m going to clean all of this up, but I should do it before it dries, right?

  I should, but I’ve just been sitting on the floor looking at it for the past few minutes.

  Do you remember when we made pasta for our fakesgiving potluck at your place, and I got sauce all over your shirt?

 I was wearing your white shirt—why I thought wearing a white shirt while making red sauce was a good idea, I don’t know—and I was trying to get the jar to open, but it wouldn’t work. I don’t think i’ve ever told you about this, but I remember that day was particularly awful for me. Just one unlucky event after another—I don’t quite remember what exactly they were, just that they were enough to make me feel like I wasn’t enough—and even though I was so excited for the fakesgiving potluck the night prior, even though I loved our friends, I just wanted to be alone. To not do anything and settle under the covers. Pretend everything could be forgotten if I just went to sleep.

But I saw you, and you were so excited. I didn’t have the heart to tell you I didn't want to go, so I sucked it up and helped you prep. I tried to pretend that everything was okay, but when that stupid jar wouldn’t open, I took my frustration out on it. You tried to take it from me, but I pushed you away, told you I could do it. 

And I did, only I also managed to spill the jar on your white shirt as I watched the jar fall to the ground and shatter. That spill was the tipping point, not because I spilled the only jar of tomato sauce in your apartment, but because I spilled it all over your new, brand name, white shirt.

I remember berating you for spending so much money on a shirt when you bought it—for fuck’s sake, it was a plain white shirt—but I know how much you adored it. I didn’t need to look at your face to know that I had fucked up, that I should have just let you open the jar instead of being stubborn. I started to cry, in anticipation of your anger, but you just held me instead, got pasta sauce on your shirt too as you let me cry on your shoulder, whispering “There, there. It’s okay. We can just make something else!”

You never even mentioned the white shirt, told me not to worry about it when I apologised, that it was the least of your concerns. That you could get another shirt.

Looking at my kitchen reminded me of that. So, I figured I’d give you another call, but it went straight to voicemail again.

I hope you’re doing okay.

I don’t know if you want to talk to me, but I’m just worried.

Call me if you get this? 

Or just send me a text.

Bye, Jimin.

*beep*

December 19th at 21:45.

Hey. There’s a full moon today. And I thought about you. 

I—uhm—think about you from time to time when the moon is bright. I don’t know why—it probably sounds stupid—but I have a lot of memories of you and the moon? Like that time we went to visit Jeongguk by the sea during winter break because all of us didn’t want to go home but didn’t want to be alone. So we made a road trip of it—well, it was kind of a road trip—and drove to San Diego to see him.

When we got to the sea, it was dark and so cold out, and the wind was fucking freezing, but we rolled up our pants and started walking along the shore, dipping our toes in the water and screaming about the temperature. Our teeth were chattering and the water was so so cold, but we did it anyways. 

It was a nice beach, from what I remember. One of the nicest I’ve ever seen. 

I stuck my hand into your jacket pocket and told you my hand warmer was dying, but to be honest, I just wanted to hold your hand. I think you knew, or maybe we had known each other for so long that you knew what I needed without having to express it in words, so you took my hand and held it tight. And even though the water was freezing and the wind was cold, in that moment, I felt so warm. 

I think you and I have always communicated well, like how I saw the way your eyes glinted in the moonlight and, somehow, knew what you wanted to do. Sneaked up behind him and pushed Jeongguk into the ocean together and laughed as he shrieked. 

It was fun, that day. I-

I miss those days sometimes. The earlier days. When there was less to worry about. 

When you were happier. 

Anyway, the moon is really bright today. The radio called it a supermoon, or something like that. I took a picture and tried to send it to you, but your phone still won’t let me send you messages. So if you hear this, just, go outside and take a look at the night sky. 

Call me back? Or send me a text. 

I just want to know you’re okay. 

Bye Jimin.

*beep*

December 21st at 16:28

I went to see The Nutcracker today. It felt like I haven’t seen a ballet in forever. It’s been—what—one year since I saw one? Which, I guess, in the grand scheme of things hasn’t been that long. But you were the one who would take me and I haven’t seen one since...yeah. I know it’s your favourite ballet. Or was. I’m not sure if it’s changed, haha.  

The American Ballet Theatre was putting on a performance, and there were still nosebleed seats available, so I bought one. It kind of felt like fate, like it was a sign that I was meant to be there, because I remember we used to get our tickets months in advance. 

I remembered some of the terms? I recognised the pa-pas de deux—god, my high school french is so fucking rusty—between the Sugar Plum Fairy and the Prince. I know that part is your favourite, but I still think “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy” is mine. All those turns? I don’t remember the technicalities, but I know it requires a lot of skill to pull off while looking graceful. I still find it strange that the Sugar Plum Fairy is the prima ballerina though, considering she barely appears. 

I-uhm-kind of was hoping to see you. 

I know you don’t dance anymore, but—maybe it was just my stupid desire but—I was hoping that you would be dancing with the company. That perhaps you were dancing again and that was why you weren’t answering any of the calls. I kept looking at everyone, trying to see if it was you. I even paid extra attention to the curtain call and looked at every single person, kept trying to find your physique in the line. But you weren’t there.

You weren’t in the audience either. I stayed in my seat until the very end, until after the end, and scanned the crowd for anyone who was lingering and soaking in the energy, like you would do every time we went to see a ballet together. But there wasn’t. It was just me. 

I stayed in my seat anyways, until the ushers told me I had to leave. Because that’s what you would have done. 

I guess I was hoping you would show up. That trying to do what you would do would somehow unlock your presence. Or give me some kind of clue.

But it didn’t. 

Where are you?

*beep*

December 23rd at 17:19.

I saw Taehyung again today. 

He wanted to know if I'd heard from you. I don’t know why he thought you would contact me. I mean, I know I call you and leave you these messages, but you know. I haven’t talked to you since...since, yeah. 

He looked awful, like he’s running himself thin. I don’t know if he’s been sleeping well, Jimin. The two of you have been friends forever, and I don't know if you’d recognise him. He seems so tired, and his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. 

He thought it was going to be like last time. That you would show up soon. But you haven’t yet, and it’s been so long, Jimin. 

He called the hospital and they told him you quit a few weeks back, which I don’t understand. I thought you needed residency to get your physiotherapy license. Tae doesn’t get it either. 

He’s been going to your apartment, trying to see if anyone is in there. But there hasn’t been. He’s contacted your apartment manager several times, telling them he’s worried about you, but they won’t let him have the keys. Safety reasons. It’s understandable and frustrating all at once because he—we just want to make sure you’re okay. 

He said he used to have a key to your apartment. Said you gave him your spare, but you took it back? Something about you needing your spare because you locked yourself out. He said that was the last time he saw you.  

I’m not trying to jump to conclusions, but you’re okay right? I know this time of year is when—uhm, the accident happened and you-uh-left the Royal Ballet School. I know this isn’t your favourite time of year, but if you need to talk, I’m here. 

He’s worried, Jimin. We all are. 

Call me back? Or call Tae? We’re just worried and Tae wants to file for a missing person’s report. So just, let us know you’re okay. 

Call me soon, yeah?

*beep*

December 27th at 22:48.

I saw Yoongi today. 

I don’t think he likes me very much, but then again, I wouldn’t like my cousin’s ex either, so I can’t really blame him. He was still as civil as ever. Very polite. He and Seokjin are still dating, but I’m sure you knew that.

Tae had contacted Yoongi a couple days ago? Asking about you. So we all met up in person today. 

I forgot how much food Seokjin makes when he’s stressed. Do you remember when he was waiting to hear back from his job, and Yoongi invited us over for dinner? We were excited because we were college students and living off of the shitty cafeteria food and, also, because it was Seokjin’s food. You thought it was because they wanted to feed us—Seokjin always wanted to feed you—but when we went over, it was obvious they just needed help getting rid of the food. There was so much food. To this day, I don’t think I've ever seen so much food in one place, even during our potlucks, and Seokjin always brought a lot of food to our potlucks. 

I remember stepping in to their apartment, and the heat radiating from the kitchen was too much to bear. The walls were sweating because he had been cooking for seven hours, trying to displace his anxiety into food. We came back to the dorms with tupperwares full of food. I didn’t have to visit the cafeteria for a week. 

God, I’ll never forget the first time we met Seokjin, and he made us fried rice: you couldn’t stuff your face fast enough and choked because it went down the wrong pipe, coughed out fried rice all over their brand new dining table and all over Yoongi. Seokjin and I laughed so hard. I was trying to be polite, kept looking at Yoongi's face and tried to swallow my giggles, but Seokjin's laughter was so boisterous and lively that I couldn't not laugh. 

You laughed too, kept choking on your laughter in between your apologies, and Yoongi just kept glowering at you. But it was full of affection. He didn’t say anything. Just looked at you and back at the table and huffed, but it would have been obvious to anyone that he wasn’t really annoyed with you. 

He went back to our hometown a couple days ago, tried to see if you were there. But you weren’t. 

He went to see your parents, but they still think you’re living here too. Yoongi said he went to all the places you used to go to, like your old ballet school and that comic book store you used to go to after school. I even asked him to visit the arcade. You know, where we first met outside of school? Where we would hang out after school with Jeongguk and spend too much money on House of the Dead. Where we had our first date. 

But nothing. 

There are traces of you everywhere, but you? You’re not anywhere. 

Where’d you go, Jimin?

*beep*

December 28th at 2:19

Fuck you.

You don’t get to do this to me. I spent so long trying to forget and trying to move on and you come back in, except—do you know what the most fucked up part of this is? It’s that you’re not even here. You’re not here, and somehow you’re everywhere. No matter what I do, all I can do is think about you because no one knows where you are. Everyone is worried because you’re missing and I-I don’t know what to do. 

I thought this was over a year ago.

So why, why are you back in my life? Why are you reawakening the things I've tried so hard to bury?

Fuck you.

*beep*

-- 

December 28th at 2:23

Hey Jimin. Just ignore that previous voicemail. I’m just--I’m just frustrated. Worried. Everyone is. 

Just call me back if you get this? 

*beep*

--

December 28th at 2:25

You don’t even need to call. Just give me a sign? Let me know you’re okay. Please.

I just want to know you’re safe. 

*beep*

December 30th at 1:13

Jeongguk flew in from New York today. Tae called him yesterday, and he took the first flight here. 

I realised I’ve never seen Jeongguk mad. 

I guess I’ve kind of seen him grow up, but I’ve never seen Jeongguk angry until today. I mean, I've seen him upset and angry, but I’ve never seen him mad. Like mad mad.  I’ve never been on the receiving end of it because he’s always had his emotions in check when it comes to the negative ones. We’ve seen him sad, but you know how he is. He seems like he doesn’t care, but he cares so much when it comes to the people he loves. He’s always trying to only share the good things because he doesn’t want to bring everyone down. And even when he’s upset with us, he tries to communicate. He’s always been emotionally mature in that sense. 

A lot like you. I think he gets that from you. You are his brother after all. 

But when we told him none of us had heard from you? That you were missing?

I realised we’ve ever really seen Jeongguk angry. 

I’ve never seen Tae look so despondent or Yoongi so guilty than when we saw Jeongguk at the airport. They didn’t want to worry him because he had just moved for his new job—I’m sure you know about that—and he’s been so stressed out that they didn’t want to add more on to his plate. 

They thought you would show up by now, that you would come back. Because you always do. Or did. You used to.

 I remember the first time you disappeared. It was a year after you came back, the anniversary of the...the accident. You were a little distant a couple days prior, but still you. Still vibrant and happy and beau-I mean, bright. And then on the day of, you were just gone. Didn’t show up to school. Weren’t at the arcade. Weren’t at your apartment. Just gone. Vanished into thin air. 

I remember asking Jeongguk if you were sick, but he had no idea what I was talking about, and when we couldn’t get a hold of you, he burst into tears. I held him as he told me about your fight last night, how you got your xbox taken away because the two of you didn’t know how to share. He thought you had left because you didn’t love him, because he was your step brother and not your real brother. 

And as we were panicking about what to do, if we should tell your parents when they came back from work, you stepped through the front door with sand in your hair and your backpack over your shoulder, smiling as if you hadn’t been missing for half the day. As if your phone wasn’t turned off all day. 

I remember feeling relieved and exhausted all at once, as if someone had drained all the worry and energy out of me. I remember Jeongguk crying as he ran to hug you. I remember you crying and promising not to go anywhere without telling him again.

And you didn’t. Sometimes you would disappear when something hit too close or when you felt like everything was too much, but we could always turn to Jeongguk for a breadcrumb, for the small hint that you were okay. 

But you didn’t leave him a hint this time. When we called him, let him know you were missing, asked him if he knew anything about your whereabouts, he didn’t say anything. He went so quiet, we thought the line went dead, until he actually did hang up. He sent us a text message a few minutes later, letting us know he’ll be arriving on the next flight there.  

Jeongguk-he’s so cold when he’s angry. He’s so quiet. But that quiet is so loud. It speaks volumes. 

I’ve seen Jeongguk loud with laughter and quiet in contemplation. But this? This was something different. 

I guess the two of you are alike in that sense too. Both of your silences are never just quiet. 

*beep*

December 30th at 15:37

So we-uhm-broke into your apartment. 

Or well, Jeongguk did. But I guess all of us are accomplices because we kind of-well, we stood there as he did it. I don’t know why Jeongguk even knows how to pick locks, but I didn’t really have the chance to ask. 

Your apartment looks normal. Still spotless. It looks like you. Like how it used to. Or how it used to before we lived together, at least. 

I’m not going to lie, I-I’m a little surprised you didn’t move out. I couldn’t even go to the places we used to go to after you told me you wanted to break up. 

I guess it didn’t bother you as much. 

We scoured your apartment for clues as to where you could have gone, which may sound very Paper Towns of us, but—I don’t know—we were just looking for any sign as to where you might be. If you were okay. There weren’t any notes or anything that could give us a hint though, and Tae said it doesn’t look any different than when he last visited. 

Jeongguk also called your credit card company to see what your last purchases were. To see if it would give us any clues. But you haven’t used it since you left. Everything is just blank. 

Blank. Like you don’t want to be found. 

Jeongguk is still upset that none of us told him—I can’t blame him for that—but I think he’s mostly upset at himself that he didn’t know. That you two stopped talking for a bit, and he didn’t notice anything was wrong. 

I think he feels like he’s been drifting away from you too, ever since his job got busy and he moved for work. Or maybe it’s before that. I think he’s always felt like you don’t tell him everything, even though he pours everything out to you, looks up to you. I know you’d give him the world, Jimin, but Jeongguk would give up everything for you if you ask. 

But you don’t ask. You never do. You don’t let people in when you’re hurting. Maybe it’s the ballet training instilled in you to smile through the pain. Cover up the flaws. Put on a performance all the time. You pretend it doesn’t exist and push people out.  

No, you just disappear instead. 

*beep*

December 30th at 21:02

Tae and I are staying over at your apartment. I hope you don’t mind. We just decided we would rather not risk having anyone in your apartment see us try and break down your door and call the police on us, haha. It makes it easier if we’re in your apartment so we can open the door in case we need anything. Or find something that we missed.  

It’s-uhm. It’s weird being here. Feels like I've been displaced from the present and back into the past, only you’re not here. 

I noticed you took down all the photos of London.You used to have that big photograph wall next to your bed, filled with pictures from when you lived there, from when you used to dance. But all your ballet photos are gone too. Tae told me you took them down a while ago, a little after the break up. Said you stopped dancing for fun too, after a while. 

I just-

I hope-

Ah, fuck it. Nevermind. 

It’s so weird to be back here. 

*beep*

December 30th at 22:14

I found my sweater under your pillow. The white one with the moon on it?

I thought I had lost it after we broke up. I wanted to ask you if you had it, if i forgot to take it with me when I moved out, but by then we had already been one month in and- 

And it hurt. To think about you. Even though that was all I was doing. 

It kind of felt like it does right now. How you permeate my every thought and every moment, even though you weren’t there. The quiet was-is-so loud with your absence. 

It smells like you. The sweater. 

I just-

I don’t know what that means.

I don’t know what any of this means. 

I just don’t understand why my sweater would be under your pillow because it was you. You’re the one who told me you wanted to break up. 

You told me you didn’t want to do this anymore, didn’t have the energy to try. You were so sad, and I wanted to argue, wanted to beg you to let me stay until you were better, but you were so sad. So sad and exhausted and defeated and certain in your decision that I knew there was no use fighting it. 

How could I hold on to someone who’s not there anymore, right?

I’ve been telling myself that we can’t understand break ups or feelings. There’s no understanding them. We feel what we feel and sometimes there are no explanations for it. So I knew. I got it. I understood there was no point in asking to stay, but I regretted not asking you for a reason. 

I still do. 

I didn’t have the chance to ask you why because I was too busy staggering from the weight of I don't love you anymore.  Too busy struggling to piece together what those words mean. 

Love is a two way street; it goes both ways. But you made the decision, and all of a sudden, that two way street morphed into a dead end, and I had no choice but to walk away from it, back out the way I came from. 

I wish I could say that I didn’t see it coming. That it came out of left field, out of the blue. But I can’t because I had been bracing myself for the impact for weeks. For months. 

Would it have changed things if I hadn’t known? Would it have hurt less? 

I don’t know. 

I don’t know. But I wish I did.

I wish I knew, Jimin.

*beep*

Message deleted. You have no new voicemails. Main menu.

A/N: come talk to me! let me know your thoughts! once again, thank you to hana and noor. this story wouldn’t exist without the two of you. 

#jimin fanfic #jimin x reader #jimin x oc #jimin fic #jimin angst #bts fic #jimin scenario #bts scenario #bts imagine #jimin imagine #bangtanuniversity #thebtswritersclub #btswritingcafe #heartsforbts

[thewritewolf]

After the End Chapter 13: Flower Shop

Marinette and Chat Noir talk about the future

First | Previous | Next | Last

@marichatmay

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

It was too chilly to be standing out on the balcony alone at this time of year, and especially with how late it was. The nearly-winter air only grew more biting when the sun sank below the horizon and if you closed your eyes you could almost smell the frost on the wind.

Thankfully, Marinette was not alone.

Between her jacket, sewn by her own hand to be as warm as it was fashionable, and being tucked snuggly against Chat Noir, the cold barely even crossed her mind. It was much closer than either of them would have been comfortable with just a couple months ago, but the nights they’d spent in each other’s company had slowly but surely shifted things between them. For now, neither of them wanted to examine those changed feelings too closely.

Instead, Marinette wanted answers to a different set of questions entirely.

“What are your plans for the future?”

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

The yellow tape with the words in all capital letters ‘CONDEMNED’ disintegrated into black ash along with the rest of the door. Chat Noir pulled back his hand, glanced around at the empty side street, and drifted inside noiselessly.

Finding this place had taken some ingenuity on his part - Marinette may have gotten his brain jogging, but there were a lot of options in the city. In the end, though, all he needed to do was find the ones that had been abandoned since at least the fall of Hawkmoth.

Taking a deep breath of the dusty, stale air that carried a hint of rot to it, Chat Noir knew that this place fit that description to a t.

Chat Noir blended into the shadows and began to search through the wreckage.

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

“I don’t know,” Chat said with a shrug. “Right now, I’m just focusing on my hero duties. There’s still a mystery that needs solving.”

“I mean, yeah, but don’t you have a life outside of this?” She ran a finger along the edge of his mask for a moment. “You’ve got to have a plan once everything on that side of it is resolved, right?”

“What’s your plan then?” He leaned on the balcony rail and looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Simple - I’m going to build a new fashion empire. After the Agreste brand imploded, there is space for something new to flourish.”

“You’re welcome for that.” Chat shook his head, staring off into the distance. “With everything that came to light after Hawkmoth got unmasked, it looks like they had it coming.”

A wave of anger washed over Marinette. She put a hand on her hip and jabbed a finger at Chat. “Listen. There was only one bad Agreste and I’m grateful for how you and Ladybug took him down, but the rest…”

She let go of Chat’s chin as the anger abated. All she was left with was a cold pit in her stomach, old doubts resurfacing as the memories of the days and weeks following the unmasking replayed in her mind. Was there anything else she could have done? Would Adrien still be in Paris, safe and happy with them, if she had done better?

“They were victims like everyone else.”

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

Even with his gentle footfalls, debris still crunched under his feet. Something about it tickled at the back of his mind. The devastation around him seemed almost… familiar.

Destruction was something of a specialty of his, after all. He’d seen cataclysm get used on countless objects and substances over the course of his years being Chat Noir. But it didn’t look like anything that the miraculous had done - there wasn’t enough ash and black decay for that. Then it suddenly hit him as he lifted a piece of wood that looked like it had vibrated apart.

His miraculous hadn’t inflicted this damage - this was the doing of the butterfly. Specifically, a sonic-based akuma back in January. That one was rough, with large swaths of the city getting screamed apart. But the miraculous cure had put everything back to normal, same as it always did.

So why hadn’t this place?

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

“There’s plenty of options for you!”

“You don’t know that much about me, Marinette,” Chat replied with a sad smile. “How can you possibly know what would make a good fit for me?”

“I don’t need to know what your face looks like to know something that fits your personality.” She snorted. “Well, except for modeling, but what would you model? Leather? Cat ears?”

“Yeah. Me, a model? Ridiculous.”

“Don’t worry, there’s lots of other stuff for you.” She took a theatrical few steps back, made a square with her fingers that she surrounded him with, and closed one eye. “How about… Chat Noir the circus clown!”

Chat laughed. “Oh, so you’re saying you always secretly liked my pun, huh? Then I’ve got a few more for you…”

“Oh right, you’ve got to actually be funny to be a clown.” She stuck her tongue out playfully to take the bite out of her words. “My bad.”

“Clown’s out then - what else you got?”

“Teacher? You’ve got a good head on your shoulders.”

“Eh, maybe. I like kids but I’ve never been much of an authority figure.” He whispered to her conspiratorially. “Don’t tell Ladybug, but I’m actually a big rebel. Sometimes I stay up a whole hour past my bed time.”

“Wow, next you’ll tell me you don’t even look both ways before crossing the street.”

“Of course I do, I’m an anarchist, not stupid.”

“Which brings me to my next Chat career - counsellor. Like helping people work through their problems?”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah…” she tapped his nose, making him blink. “I can tell those eyes have seen a lot. And yet, you’ve come through it. Maybe you can use what you’ve learned to help people?”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Anything else?”

“Well… and this one is a bit out there, but… How about opening a flower shop? You’ve always been such a romantic and- Chat? Are you okay?”

He had suddenly gone very stiff, his eyes widening as he took in a sharp breath. It seemed to pass quickly, suddenly replaced with a manic energy as his hand darted for his baton.

“I’m sorry, I’ve got to go! I just had an idea!”

“Wait, Chat-!”

But it was too late. He’d leapt off the balcony and gone running off into the night.

Marinette was left to wonder - did he really have an idea, or had she made him uncomfortable? Did thinking of the future really upset him so much?

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

Whoever had been here before must have left in a hurry and never come back, Chat Noir thought as he passed rows of decayed flower beds. Little was left of the beautiful plants except for gnarled twigs and rotten petals. It wasn’t what he was here for, but it did give him some hope that maybe, just maybe, the Gentlemen had forgotten something here.

If they had ever been here in the first place, that is.

Chat Noir stepped into the backroom of the former flowershop. The rubble that might have given a civilian difficulties yielded to super human strength and the slightest touch of Cataclysm. There, he found a small filing cabinet marked with the store’s name - Boutonnière Noir.

While he was grabbing what few files remained, intending to pour over them back at the mansion, the gleam of something metallic caught his eye at the bottom of the cabinet. Reaching in, he pulled out a badge that just barely fit in the palm of his hand. It had no words, but he knew in his heart that it was the symbol of the Gentlemen - a man with a top hat, a fanged smile, and a finger held up like a hush.

After one last look over the husk of the Boutonnière Noir, Chat Noir left with his spoils.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Chat Noir #Marichat #MarichatMay2021 #ml fanfiction #my writing #After the End

[ladyxxdaydream]

tagged by @stillnotovermylordsixth -- thanks for the tag! I've been feeling really inactive with my writing lately so this was a good way to start paying attention to it again (◠‿◠)

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!) See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening lines.

Then tag ten authors!

Fic titles are underlined and linked to the fic on my ao3, just in case any of them grab ya and you want to read it! ;D

1) Akihiko Kaji had sworn off love.

Love was nothing more than a shiny lure; bait on the end of a hook. Swallow it, and you were reeled in, gutted, and devoured.

He should have known better. (metanoia || akigetsu & akiharu fanfic)

2) Light snow fluttered down around them as they entered the winter festival, the first flakes since the season began. Konoha didn’t see much snow, and even if it did, it usually didn’t stick.

“What’s this line for?” Kakashi asked curiously, peering around the throng of people filing in front of a wooden kiosk. The words Kissing Booth were stenciled in red paint across the top. “Or rather who is this line f—” He cut himself off when he saw the prominent scar.

(kissing booth || kakayamairu)

3) Kakashi never showed much interest in anything aside from Icha Icha, but even that was exaggerated and calculated. It served several purposes: one, it provided an escape, building a wall between himself and the rest of the world; two, he simply loved it; and three, it allowed people something to fixate on and gossip about that wasn’t his actual life. (thought you'd never ask || kakairu)

4) A new child was being added to the shelter today. Dalma was standing in the door of the hut, introducing him as Kakashi. Iruka had heard stories about people as pale as the moon, who’d been sent by some god Iruka did not know. (déjà vu || kakairu)

5) “I’ve had one hell of a day,” Gekko said, falling into an open chair. “Can I join you guys?”

“You’re already seated,” Asuma said gruffly, puffing on a cigarette. He blew the smoke towards the ceiling, before snaking an arm around the back of Kurenai’s chair. She poked him in the knee beneath the table, a silent way to say be nice. (love me as you are || kakairu)

6) Kakashi was trying to keep his distance, and Iruka… well, Iruka was not. (full-stop || kakairu)

7) Kakashi slid his hands over Iruka’s shoulders and down his chest, placing a kiss to the nape of his neck. Iruka’s skin smelled strongly like the sun, despite his hair being damp from a shower. (busy || kakairu)

8) Kakashi paced their apartment nervously, his bare feet soundless and swift against the floor.

“I should go there,” he announced.

“Bad idea,” Pakkun replied lazily from the floor, his head resting on top of his front paws. “Iruka specifically told you not to.”

(perks of promotion || kakairu)

9) Iruka drank nearly half the beer Kakashi had sent him in one long swig. He didn’t mind the obvious attention Kakashi was giving him—the man was attractive and powerful to boot—but he did wonder why; he wondered if it was the same reason everyone else in this damn bar decided to notice him tonight. (perks of promotion || kakairu)

10) Iruka was putting on his wetsuit, reaching around to pull the long zipper up to the base of his neck. No matter how many times he’d done this over the past three years, he still felt nervous excitement every time. He threw his hair up into a tight bun, slipped the thin sliver whistle over his head, and closed his locker door.

(night at the aquarium || kakairu)

putting the rest under a cut!

11) Iruka clacked his stack of note cards against the desk’s surface, straightening them into a neat pile. He knew he wouldn’t use them but he made them anyway—it was a comfort thing. (brand new sound || kakairu)

12) Kakashi dropped his head into the pillow, dragging his fingers down Iruka’s back beneath his shirt as his boyfriend sucked his neck in a way that he knew would leave a mark.

“Wha—why,” Kakashi panted, “why are you stopping?” he asked when Iruka’s lips left his neck, clunking his forehead against Kakashi’s collarbone with a huff. (tonight you'll let me be your hands || kakairu)

13) Itachi got into his car, the leather seat cool against his legs through his linen pants. He turned on the radio with no need to change the channel. It’d been set to the same one for years — a mellow station that played classical composers and smooth jazz.  When he pulled out of the driveway, he pushed on his bluetooth and spoke out loud:

“Hatake Kakashi.”

(tilt || itadei & kakairu)

14) Iruka buried his nose further into his scarf, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets as he walked briskly towards the bus stop. His car needed to be taken to the shop — something was wrong with the ignition. The engine whined hoarsely when he turned the key, but it never caught. He couldn’t bring himself to spend the money yet; money he definitely did not have. He knew he’d have to shell it out soon regardless, because winter was swiftly approaching.

(language gap || kakairu)

15) Iruka readjusted his messenger bag, positioning it so it no longer whacked against the back of his legs. Campus on a Saturday felt like a different universe. It was deserted, except for the few students who actually went to the library to study. He was usually one of them but that’s not where he was headed today. (i'll fall if you do || kakairu)

16) Iruka heard Kakashi come in, his footfalls uncharacteristically loud—the first indication that he was moping. Coming from Kakashi, that was the equivalent to dragging his feet. (pout || kakairu)

17) “I knew I recognized him,” Deidara squealed, tilting his phone towards Iruka to show him a photo. “It would totally make sense. The eye wrap must be concealing the scar. I’ve read they cover it with make-up for most of his movies.” (use your imagination || kakairu)

18) “Later!” Tomo screeched, making a beeline for the door.

“Tomo,”  Iruka called, his stern voice echoing around the bathroom. Although he’d been appointed Headmaster at the Academy almost three years ago, his teacher's voice had refused to die. It usually worked, but his daughter was at the age where sometimes she would purposely misbehave, just to see what he would do in response. Thankfully, this wasn’t one of those times.

(cake substitution no jutsu || kakairu)

19) “Satisfied?” Kakashi chuckled, gently patting Tomo on the back again, despite her letting out a burp a second ago. He rocked from foot to foot in front of the window, bouncing her slightly.

Iruka watched his husband from the kitchen, his heart brimming with affection as he sipped at his tea. It had taken Kakashi the better part of a month to become completely comfortable with holding Tomo. The stiffness was gone from his body now, and his expression had shifted from panicked to serene. He also stopped taking Tomo’s crying as a personal insult, much to Iruka’s relief. Kakashi used to hand her off every time, convinced it was his fault, and that their now five month old daughter simply didn’t like him. (teething || kakairu)

20) Jokes came easily to Kakashi, whether or not people laughed at them was another thing entirely. With Iruka it was usually hit or miss. Sometimes he looked as if he was going to bust a lung, and it left Kakashi feeling victorious. Other times Iruka gave him the side-eye, and continued on with whatever he was doing. His team never really found him funny to begin with, and Yamato, well, he usually only laughed to be polite. (a new chapter || kakairu)

#kakairu #my fic #wow #looks like i mostly start with an action or a piece of dialogue O.o #this was fun and nostalgic #i havent been writing lately #and sometimes i wonder if it even matters ya'no? #idkkkk #love me as you are hit 500 kudso while i wasnt looking #and nata is 2 away from 700 #so tysm for that T-T truly #fic meme #writing meme #have a good day ppl #LOVE YOU #feel free to do the meme if you want #which i know is a lame cop out #but my brain is too fried to even think of one person to tag

[xmagicxshopx]

😈 Secret Admirer 😈 Pt 2

Genre: fantasy adventure, romance, angst Rating: PG-13 Warnings: angst, mild language Pairing: Jungkook x reader Notes: demon!jungkook au. Private Investigator Jungkook. Not idol!jungkook. Single quote marks ‘ ‘ are for thoughts and double “ “ are for talking. Additional Notes: I don’t know if I got the right emotions across but I hope you guys still feel something all the same~

Tagging because they showed interest: @sebastianshoe @fortunexkookie

Summary: All you’ve ever known is struggle. You fight to survive every day and you’re grateful for the little things. But one night, when you make a wish at 11:11pm on the 11th day of the 11th month…….your whole world gets turned upside down.

Over the last few weeks, Jungkook had developed a sort of......routine with you. He mapped out your entire work schedule and just after one week......He was amazed at how little sleep you truly got. Good thing he himself didn’t need sleep because otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to keep up with you.

In this span of time, he learned what days you were working at the retail store and continued his disguise as your newbie coworker. It was a win-win for him since he got to interact with you on top of making the two girls up front miserable. The male had to keep up with his demonic reputation, after all. It was during one of those days when you suddenly spoke up.

“Jungkook.....Do you ever have something that just.......won’t leave you alone? Like there’s just something there that.....constantly occupies your thoughts?”

‘If only you knew, little human.....’

“Um.....Not really. Why? Is everything okay?”

He set down the box of winter boots that were already meant to be spaced out on the clearance shelves even though it was still only December. Humans and their timelines never made any sense to him. It was still freaking cold out so why would you start shoving winter clothing out and bringing in spring clothing??? It was ridiculous.

He watched you chew on your bottom lip as you clearly pondered on whether or not to tell him what was on your mind. Over the span of these last few weeks, the demon had picked up on all your little habits. Chewing your bottom lip was one of them. Offering you a warm and reassuring smile, that seemed to be enough to get you to talk.

“Well......there’s this guy I sort of crossed paths with about a month ago. And......he was......different.”

“Different? How so?”

“Well he........he........and please don’t laugh because I’m being serious here but he.......he had......”

“Spit it out, woman.”

“He had red eyes.”

Ah. So you were talking about him. For a minute there, Jungkook thought perhaps you were talking about someone else. Why did that possibility bother him so much? Trying to keep up his composure, he simply raised an eyebrow before you started up again; quick to defend and explain yourself.

“It was dark but I know what I saw. I was being ambushed by some man in an alley and this other guy came to my rescue. He even gave me money. But all I can think about are his red eyes. I’m sure they were just colored contacts but still......I can’t get them out of my head and it’s been a month already.”

And that’s how Jungkook suddenly became known as Red Eyes, your secret admirer.

First, it had started out with your apartment. When he knew you’d be out working at the diner during the morning hours of the day, he had decided to sneak into your apartment and try to make as many repairs as he could with the time he had. Of course it wouldn’t take long with the help of his black magic, but still. Firstly, he worked on your door. The idea that anyone could come in here and rob you didn’t sit well with him.

Once he had fixed the latch and made sure your locks would work, he then turned his attention to your leaky ceiling. Honestly. Whoever your landlord was, he or she was a real jerk. Surely this wasn’t safe or acceptable? Grumbling about how foolish mortals could be, he waved his hand and instantly your ceiling was fixed. He even took it upon himself to get rid of the bucket nearly full of water.

Jungkook even went the extra mile to make sure your heat was working because now he wasn’t putting anything past your shitty landlord. After making sure everything in your apartment was working and running properly, he left a note in his neat handwriting that said.....

“Little One.....I hope you don’t mind that I fixed your door and your ceiling. Remember to lock your door from now on, okay? Stay safe. - Red Eyes, your secret admirer”

He’d never forget how happy you were when you told him about it. He had just slipped into the inventory room when you suddenly wrapped him up in a hug. Tensing but only for a moment, he had ended up awkwardly patting your back.

“Jungkook! He came back!”

“Huh? Who?”

“The guy with the red eyes!”

You were adorable with the way you had explained everything. Even though you had never actually gotten to physically see him again. He couldn’t help but stand there with an amused smile on his face. The irony that you were talking about him while he was standing right in front of you entertained him greatly.

“Seems like a nice guy.”

“Yeah. I wonder how he knew where I lived. Maybe he followed me home that night. He’s been nothing but kind to me even though this has only been the second encounter. Well kind of-----Since I didn’t exactly get to see him.”

The demon’s next target was your shoes. This task proved to be a little more tricky. Stupid him hadn’t thought to ask you your shoe size. Which meant either he could wait till next week when he saw you......or he could do things the fun way. Grinning, he thought to himself,

‘Fun way, it is.’

Even this proved to be a challenge. The plan was to sneak into your apartment when he knew you’d be sleeping. Why? Because it was the only time you took your shoes off. The plan was simple, really. Get in, check your shoe size, get out. Simple. But once he was inside......Jungkook ran into a little......situation.

You were crying. In your sleep.

His sensitive demon ears immediately picked up on your sobbing and instantly went down the hall to find you. Opening your door carefully, he could see you shivering under the blankets that you used to keep yourself warm. He had learned quickly that you rarely ran your heat during the winter time; mentioning that you tried to keep your electric bill down as much as possible.

Upon closer inspection, he could see the tears rolling down your face and onto your pillow. What was this crazy feeling inside him? It was like an itch that he couldn’t reach to scratch. He just----Wanted to wrap you up in his arms and never let you go. He wanted.......He wanted.......

He wanted to stop your constant suffering.

“Shh. Ease, little human. Ease.”

He may not be able to solve all your problems over night, but he could at least grace you with good dreams. With the wave of his hand over your face, he watched as the sobbing slowly ceased and you became peaceful once more. There. Maybe now you could at least get some real rest. If nothing else. Standing up once more, the demon made his exit, found your shoe size, and took his leave; making sure your door was properly locked.

A couple days later, you discovered a package at your door and your curiosity was instantly through the roof. Picking it up, you saw a familiar note attached to it that read....

“Little One.....I couldn’t help but notice your shoes and the poor condition they are in. Inside this box you will find a new pair. Hopefully I guessed your size correctly. - Red Eyes, your secret admirer”

“Kookie! Kookie!”

“Whatie! Whatie!”

You were growing more comfortable around him and he didn’t know how to feel about that. First it was the hug about a week ago, and now you were giving him nicknames. Gosh you were adorable as you practically skipped into the inventory room that day. You glowed despite how exhausted you looked. It was amazing, really.

“He did it again! Red Eyes paid me a visit! Look what he did this time!”

Jungkook couldn’t help but grin as he looked down at what you were pointing to. On your feet were a brand new pair of Puma tennis shoes. He was relieved to see how they fit you perfectly. Putting on a surprised smile, he let out a low whistle before saying casually,

“Wow. Red Eyes must have the money. Puma isn’t cheap.”

“Right? I feel bad, really. But at the same time, I’m so grateful. I just wish I could thank him in person, you know? Even though I can’t give him anything in return, I at least want him to know how much I appreciate his selflessness.”

‘Oh little human.....’

How was it that you had so much power over him? Your words cut him like the sharpest knife. Jungkook was a demon. Selflessness wasn’t in his vocabulary and yet here he was doting this mortal with all kinds of gifts. What was happening to him? Was he really going so soft as to be labeled selfless? Not having any idea what he was doing, he suddenly blurted out with a shrug,

“Maybe leave a note for him? Like on your door or something. Maybe he’ll see it.”

While he mentally scolded himself for such a stupid suggestion, you were absolutely glowing. Your eyes grew wide in size and it sadly made you look even more bug eyed but you were just too adorable for him to focus solely on that. Suddenly hugging him, you spoke with joy,

“Kookie! That’s a great idea!”

Within the next few days, sticky notes on your door became a thing. You’d leave one for him and he’d write something in return. You often times requested that you meet again in person so that you could properly thank him but he always insisted that you should use your free time for rest.

Truth was.......He wasn’t ready to meet you face to face as the demon he really was. Not when the two of you were having so much fun together while working in the retail storage room. He had grown to care about you. Him, a demon, caring about a mere mortal. It was crazy to think about, really. But it was true. You had somehow managed to worm your way into his black heart and Jungkook had no idea how to deal with that.

It wasn’t till this present day that the demon boy noticed something.....odd. Or perhaps off was the right word. Something just didn’t feel right when you entered the storage room today. You looked paler than usual and honestly.....did you look thinner? Was that even possible? It felt like something heavy had settled on his chest. Your appearance didn’t sit well with him at all. Not wanting to scare you, he asked casually,

“You feeling okay today? You look a little pale?”

Jungkook could instantly hear your heart beat pick up in what he could only guess was anxiety and panic. He could see your form stiffen out of the corner of his eye and he knew something was up. Why did that scare him so much? When you didn’t answer right away, he finally stopped what he was doing and turned to you; calling out your name gently.

“I......I think I’m just a bit under the weather but I’ll be fine. No need to worry about me, Kookie.”

Despite your smile, you knew he wasn’t buying it. You had learned pretty quickly that your coworker was quite intelligent and very deductive. It was like he could see right through you. Those unique brown eyes of his appeared to always be looking right into your soul or something. It was odd. You feel like you’ve seen those eyes before.

“Have you taken anything or seen the doctor?”

“Ah---I um.....I don’t have insurance so......I don’t go to the doctor.”

The demon’s black heart was breaking as he listened to what you had to say and the way you caved in on yourself as if afraid of getting scolded only made it worse. You didn’t have the money to care for yourself. Dear god this was torture. If only he didn’t care about you so much....

“Well......let me at least give you some mon----”

“No, Jungkook.”

Your firm tone didn’t match up with your frail form at all. Your eyebrows were knitted and a pout settled on your pale face. Honestly, if you hadn’t looked so ill, the male would have cooed and called you out on your cuteness. But now wasn’t the time for that.

“As much as I appreciate your gesture, I can’t accept it. You need that money for yourself.”

‘Foolish little human......just let me help you.....’

“I understand and respect your wishes. But my offer still stands. Even if it’s just to get some over-the-counter medicine.”

All you did was offer him a warm smile of gratitude and a nod of understanding but went back to work. While you busied yourself like the usual busy beaver you were, Jungkook made sure to watch you like a hawk. He could always leave money at your door and pretend to be Red Eyes but he feared of you making the connections.

He really needed to man up and just tell you the truth. Jungkook, the man you so very sweetly called Kookie, was also this dark and mysterious Red Eyes that you often gushed over. The thing is.....how would he even go about telling you? Would it be appropriate to tell you right here where he stood? Would you even believe him? Sure he could show you his red eyes but still....Gah. Why did he have to have feelings for you.....

As expected, Jungkook ended up chickening out and remained silent. Of course there was some small talk from time to time but mostly the shift was quiet. Although he couldn’t help but hear your labored breathing. Dear god you were going to give him a stroke. Could demons even have strokes? He wasn’t sure but you were definitely pushing the odds here.

The day came and went but he still kept an eye on you; making sure you were still functioning and getting up in the mornings. Honestly you were getting worse. Your movements were a bit more sluggish than usual and you practically looked like a zombie. Over the weekend, the young demon decided it was time to make his move. He would never forgive himself if something happened to you all because he was being a coward.

The plan sounded simple in his head. He’d knock on your door appearing as your retail storage room coworker Jungkook, make his big grand confession, pop out the colored contacts to prove he was Red Eyes, and then drag you to the hospital where he’d demand he pay any and all medical bills necessary to bring you back up to optimum health.

However.....You had yet to leave your apartment and it was at least 15 minutes past your usual departure time. You would have normally been half way down the street by now. The rational side of him tried to logic it all out. You were just running late is all. Nothing to freak out about......Right?

15 minutes turned into half an hour and that’s when he knew something was wrong. Sure you could have possibly called in sick but you were too hard headed for that. Even if you had, he still needed to see that you got the proper medical care. Taking a deep breath that was technically not necessary for a demon like him, he lifted his fist and knocked on the door.

“Kiddo? You in there? It’s me, Jungkook.”

No answer. Okay. Don’t panic. Perhaps you were sleeping? That was always a rational and reasonable possibility, right? But what if you weren’t? What if you were in trouble? Chewing on his bottom lip in nervousness, he mumbled something about “screw it” to himself before he was disappearing from the outside of your apartment and reappearing inside within a cloud of gray smoke.

Once the smoky gray wisps finally faded out into the room, he realized you were nowhere in sight. At least not in the kitchen or the living room. There was still the possibility that you were just in bed resting. Yes. Perhaps everything really was okay and he was just overreacting. Still determined to get you the proper care, he made his way to the hall only to discover.....

“No!”

You were laying nearly face down on the floor of the hallway. It would appear as if you had indeed tried to get ready for work today but your body had other plans. Even when the demon called your name, you never moved.

Panicking, Jungkook slid across the wooden floor and skidded to your side. Instantly but still carefully, he maneuvered your body till you were flat on your back and all hair was out of your face. Dear god you looked dead. Whimpering and mumbling to himself, the demon quickly reached for your pulse point.

“Oh thank Hades. You’re alive.”

But hanging by a thread. The pulse was there but only just. The demon also couldn’t help but take note of the fact that your breathing was shallow. You needed oxygen. You needed medical attention and equipment. The right thing to do would be to take you to the hospital just like he had planned. You’d be in good, professional hands and he could pay everything for you.

However.....without your consent and him having no way to come up with believable proof that you put yourself in his care when you were unable to speak for yourself......This wasn’t going to work. No. The hospital was out of the question. Being a demon.....Jungkook had never been one for taking the legal route anyway.

It was settled, then. You’d be coming with him to his apartment. He’d be able to conjure up the proper supplies and equipment you’d need to stay alive. He could only hope he wasn’t too late. While you were alive right now, that didn’t mean you were out of the woods yet. In fact....you were far from it. Lifting you up as if you were a vase that could shatter at any second, he closed his eyes and concentrated on where he wanted to take you.

As soon as he appeared in his apartment from within a cloud of gray smoke, he immediately dashed for his bedroom. Once he had you in what he felt would be a comfortable position, the demon began his work on keeping you alive. If his own black heart could beat, it’d be trying to beat out of his chest. His nerves were trying to get the best of him. You were getting the best of him.

You. The girl who caught his eye with your unique endless faith in humanity. The girl so humble it made his body physically ache. You were so sweet and so hard working and got so very little in return. It wasn’t right. Normally it was Jungkook’s job to undo all good things. He was often the creator of wrongs. But today......for the first time in his demon life.....

He was going to right this wrong. He was going to make everything okay for you. The way it should be.

After producing an oxygen tank along with the additional equipment necessary for you, he finally had oxygen going back into your lungs so that your body wouldn’t have to work so hard to provide it naturally. Next, he needed to get some kind of nutrients in you. Producing an IV bag full of the clear liquid, he began to carefully insert your IV. Gosh your hands were so bony. He could see every vein and every which way your bones went.

Once he got you all set up and comfortable, the demon boy took a moment to inspect his own handy work. Looking from your frail form to the monitors, he could see your oxygen levels already improving. Your blood pressure was still too low, though. Tearing his eyes away from the numbers, his ruby red eyes which had turned him famous once again landed on your pitiful body. Gosh you looked so small in that large bed of his.

“You can’t die on me now, little human.”

ONE MONTH LATER....

It would appear you had slipped into a coma. While your vitals were improving with every passing day, the days had turned into weeks and you weren’t showing any signs of regaining consciousness. Granted there was still no meat or muscle on your bones but you didn’t seem as pale and frail. That alone had made the demon happy......at first.

Now he makes it a part of his daily routine to check on you simply to see if you had opened those beautiful eyes of yours. Of course he still changed your IV bag as often as necessary and it seemed like you were having to rely less and less on the oxygen tank, but still. He couldn’t understand what had caused you to slip into such a deep state of sleep. Were you at least getting any kind of rest this way?

“You humans confuse me, little one.”

Days continued to pass. At first, Jungkook was borderline obsessed. He would stay by your side day in and day out just so he wouldn’t miss the moment where you would finally open your eyes. Time had never been much of a concept to him before since he didn’t need sleep. Honestly, the bed you slept in was really all just for looks in case he had a client come over during one of his cases for private investigating.

Speaking of, eventually, Jungkook had to force himself to go back to work. Not only as a private investigator, but as a demon too. His demonic superior had reached out to him several times about why he hadn’t been sending him souls lately. Had you really encompassed his life like this? When had you managed to sneak your way into his mind and consume his every thought? The demon was whipped. Whipped for you.

THREE MONTHS LATER.....

Still so close but so far away. You no longer needed the assistance of oxygen and could breathe on your own while sustaining normal oxygen levels. Your vitals were as good as they were going to get given the circumstances. You needed food go grow some meat on you but that was a bit impossible since you couldn’t chew at the moment. You couldn’t do much of anything. There was still no signs of you awakening.

But the young demon wasn’t giving up.

“Yah. It’s getting lonely without you......Just wake up already. I’ll buy you ice cream, cookies. Whatever you want. Just......wake up....”

He sat there in an armchair watching you with his intense red eyes and a childlike pout on his lips. Various times he had halfheartedly threatened you; thinking that perhaps you could hear him and would wake up. However, it all proved useless as you never moved an inch. However.....there was one time where he thought that perhaps you really could hear him but just couldn’t say anything about it.

“You know.....being a demon......I never thought I could fall in love with a human.”

Perhaps he had been hallucinating, but Jungkook could have sworn your fingers twitched. His wide eyes flickered to your face but your eyes remained hidden behind your heavy eyelids. Was it a trick of his mind or had you really moved?

Then there was the time you really surprised him......

“Time to change your feed bag, little human.”

It had become sort of a joke to call the bag of clear liquid your ‘feed bag’. Seeing as how that was the only way you could received any nutrients in your system. It was when he had finally changed everything, that you suddenly opened your eyes.

Jungkook stared on at you in shock as you laid there staring straight up at the ceiling of his modest bedroom. When you didn’t blink, he hesitantly reached his hand out and slowly waved it in front of your face. Your eyes never once budged. And then suddenly, you closed them once more. It was like you had never opened them. Strange.......Very strange......

Now he sat here with that same pout on his face while you just laid there and silently tormented him. Man. Being in love sucks. Now he knew why he had always tried to stay away from such a concept. Love. Yuck. Sighing, he stood up and looked at the clock. It was time for his nightly patrol to try and find himself a soul to sell. He was running low on funds, anyway.

“Don’t be afraid to wake up when I come back, okay?”

NOVEMBER 11, 11:00PM.....

“Happy one year anniversary, little human.”

A vase full of flowers and just enough water to keep them well hydrated, he placed the floral arrangement on the nightstand while being careful not to tangle any of your cords. Cords connecting to equipment telling him your heart was still beating and such. Important stuff like that. Taking a seat in his usual armchair, he sighed heavily and stared at your peaceful face.

“Hard to believe it’s been a year since we met, huh?”

Of course there was no response. Jungkook knew he wouldn’t get one but that didn’t stop him from continuing the conversation. In fact, it had become quite easy for him to talk to you despite your lack of ability to say anything in return. Adjusting himself in his seat, he went on.

“I remember how scared you were that night. If I had only known then what I know now......maybe you’d be awake. Smiling even. But.......Who could ever love a demon, right?”

He looked up at you and then at the clock. It was 11 minutes past the hour. The demon had heard tales that this was the exact minute you were supposed to make a wish. The idea swam in his head and with a roll of his eyes, he mumbled, “Oh what the hell. Why not.”

Closing his eyes, he even went the cheesy extra mile and clasped his hands together. Feeling like an absolute idiot, he sat there in his fancy, plush armchair with his head down and his shaggy mop of dark hair falling into his face. Making his wish but not daring to speak it out loud, he slowly opened his eyes and straightened back up.

“Ko......Kookie?”

No.....No way. That......that stupid cheesy shit about making wishes just because it was a specific time of night......It couldn’t have worked......Could it???

Not having actually been prepared for the moment you’d truly open your eyes and awaken, Jungkook had failed to put in his colored contacts to hide his ruby red eyes that were now on wide display for you.

You. There you laid in his bed. His bed. Looking like an absolute dream. It was so cute the way you looked all groggy and sleepy as if just waking up from a nap and not a six month coma. Once your surroundings finally started to come into focus, you realized just who was staring back at you. Your own orbs widening in surprise, you gasped,

“Red Eyes???”

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts jungkook #jungkook bts #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook scenarios #jungkook scenario #bts scenarios #bts scenario #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #demon!jungkook #demon jungkook

[vvirgils]

Chronicles of Straith #2-The Witch’s Dragon:Chapter 12

Chronicles of Straith #1-Fate’s Door///Chapter 11/Chapter 13//Masterpost

Dinner in Canea was a lighthearted affair, much more casual than the day before but still a thousand times more relaxed than the structured evenings Roman had at home. There was no entertainment today, just conversation.

From across the table, Lilly handed Roman a folded newspaper. “I don’t know if you’ve been getting any news these past days, but you might want to check out what’s going on in Straith. If I was your advisor, I’d want you to know.”

Roman took another mouthful of their dessert, then unfurled the paper. “Thank you.” Scanning the headline, their mouth fell open.

Absent King Increases Panic

So...Virgil had not told their cabinet. Or she had, and— it didn’t matter. Roman’s absence was no longer a secret. There would be people after them soon. People that they knew, but likely those tasked with keeping Roman under control.

A quick skim of the article revealed that everyone was expecting Roman to do something. One quote from an anonymous source read, “Just because our king is a teenager doesn’t mean he can send his girlfriend out to fix this mess. This is the time to lead.”

Virgil had to be taking care of it, then, all on her own. Although she wasn’t Roman’s girlfriend, by any stretch of the imagination. Another article speculated about the absence of Rafaela, and Roman’s gut plummeted. They had to get back, and soon. Looking up from the newspaper, they wondered how they could get out. Escape. Get back to Straith as fast as possible.

“Let me guess, you didn’t actually put your affairs in order before you left Straith,” Lilly said, fixing them with an expression somewhere between motherly and bemused.

Sheepishly, Roman said, “Not…entirely.”

“If you were someone who had decades of ruling experience and pulled this stunt, I would be going off on you right now. But you’re a teenager, and I understand wanting to get away from the pressure,” Lilly said, stirring her tea.

Roman didn’t exactly know what to say. This was— well, they’d fully expected her to yell. To tell them off, and make Roman feel even worse than they, well, already did. They opened their mouth to say something, then closed it.

Lilly smiled at Roman. “So I’m going to not tell Mark that you abandoned your country, and you’re going to go meet with your friend who came a very long way, and is waiting for you out in the Summer courtyard. He’s a nice guy, and you’re fortunate to have friends like that right now. I will tell everyone that you have business to attend to in Straith and had to leave earlier than planned.”

“Can I just leave…now? Like right now? Won’t somebody…” Roman looked around nervously. “Notice?”

“I’ll tell them you had a stomach ache, okay? Go. Your people need you,” Lilly said. When Roman didn’t move, she sighed. “Okay, how about I walk you to the Summer courtyard to avoid suspicion?”

“Alright,” Roman said, getting up from their seat. They walked to the room’s exit, where Lilly waited. “Um, there’s this chest full of my mother’s letters, can I…?”

“I can mail it to you, Roman.” She ushered them out the door, and into the hallways of the palace. “You should probably focus on leading right now.”

“Okay, that works,” they replied, looking at the art on the walls one last time, missing it already. Lilly let them take their time, a silent yet supportive companion as they walked to the Summer Courtyard.

“We’re here,” Lilly said when the two reached the door to the courtyard. “Goodbye, Roman. I’ll miss you, and I hope you return under better circumstances.” She gave them a quick hug.

“I’ll miss you too, Lilly. I want to come back.” Roman could see Patton through the window, but they didn’t want to move. Their mother’s scarf felt tight around their neck, amplifying their discomfort with what they’d left behind in Straith.

“Visit us the second you’re free, alright?” Lilly said, leaving Roman at the door as she went back to dinner.

Taking a deep breath of warm summer air, Roman pushed open the door and started to walk over to where Patton was. They didn’t make it very far, since Patton got up and ran over the second he saw them.

“Roman, finally!” Patton didn’t give Roman the chance to speak, sweeping them up into a hug. “Are you alright? What happened? You know what, nevermind. We can talk about it on the way back.” The warm air of the courtyard, and the comfort of being held tight by someone familiar made Roman relax for the first time since he read that headline.

“I’m— I’m fine, Patton. Thank you for coming and getting me,” Roman said, breaking out of the hug with a brand new smile on his face. Fresh sunlight made Patton look even kinder than he usually did, and Roman was silently grateful for Patton coming for them.

They’d certainly take this over being chewed out by Virgil for leaving her to deal with the magical issue in Straith. Or Logan’s quiet disappointment, though Roman would have to face both of those when they returned to Straith. No, Patton was happy to see them and concerned about Roman’s well-being.

“Alright, let’s go. To the boat, Rafaela’s driving. Well, not exactly. Kind of. It’s weird,” Patton rambled, walking towards an open-air corridor leading out of the Summer courtyard. “This goes right to the docks, I think.” The warmth and sunshine of summer made way for the sharp winds and clouds of winter as the pair moved down the courtyard. Roman had a light cloak on, but they still felt the cold as the temperature dropped.

“How…how bad is it? Back in Archdale,” Roman said, keeping their head down as Patton led them through the crowded marketplace to the docks. They couldn’t afford to be distracted at a time like this.

“It’s only getting worse,” Patton said, approaching a small motorboat. “Virgil found out that the source of the problem is a magical creature, a dragon. She doesn’t know how to fix it, but initially she wanted you to make a speech to set people at ease. Now, you’ll probably need to figure out a way to contain it with her. She’s not exactly happy with you right now, to say the least.” Roman could only imagine.

“I’m guessing that Virgil is not the only person who is upset with me,” Roman said, following Patton into the boat. It started moving immediately, catching Roman off-guards. “Wait, how is the boat steering itself?”

“Rafaela. And there’s a long line of people who are upset with you, including me, Logan, your entire cabinet, and maybe all of Archdale, if not Straith,” Patton said, not sugarcoating the words. Roman knew what they’d done, and there was no reason why they shouldn’t know how it had affected others. He sat down on one of the chairs.

“Oh,” Roman said, sitting next to Patton. “I’m sorry, really. I just… I never knew my mom. So I wanted to see where she grew up, meet people she was close to. But I shouldn’t have left the second I got a letter from King Mark. The kingdom is— it’s my responsibility. I can’t abandon it without warning. I’ll be better. In the future.”

“Apology accepted. You’re going to need a better one for Virgil, though. Also, if you had by any chance found a way to stop the dragon while in Canea, tell her when you get back to Straith. She’s been running herself ragged, trying to keep the damage at a minimum,” Patton said, looking out at the river. He was grateful for the thick coat, since the wind was still bone-chilling. Roman shivered a little next to him, and Patton wondered if they missed their friends when in Canea.

“That’s… I’ll talk to her when I get there.” Roman fell silent, and Patton let them have their space. The pair watched in silence as the boat sped along, the sun eventually falling behind the horizon and making way for the stars.

When the castle of Straith came into sight, Roman stood up from their seat. “I miss my bed,” they said, to no one in particular.

“Good luck with getting past your cabinet,” Patton said, following Roman’s mournful gaze at the castle. “But they’re probably all asleep. We can sneak in quietly, and you can just go to bed. You’re going to need the rest, tomorrow’s going to be something.”

“Okay,” Roman replied, sitting back down. The boat slid into the port, and Rafaela’s magic tied it to a post before disappearing into the night. “Follow me, I know how to get around everyone.”

They cut the perhaps too familiar path to the servant’s passage that could take them to their rooms in a second. Patton trailed behind, looking at each tree like a ghost could come out at any moment. After several tense minutes of smoky cold breaths into the darkness and wordless communication, the two had made it past the guards. Roman sighed in relief, and walked to the door in the castle.

“Patton, you should go home. There’s a dragon out there,” Roman told their friend, knowing Logan and his dads had to be worried sick.

“See you in the morning then.” Patton gave them a sleepy hug, waved goodbye, and walked off into the darkness.

Roman enjoyed the warm embrace of the castle, and made their way down the passage and up the stairs without encountering anyone. Eyelids drooping, they pushed open the door to their quarters and-

Virgil stood in the doorway, just as tired as Roman, but her face so distraught that Roman wanted to hug her. They took a step forward, ready to explain and apologize, tell her that they might have a solution, give her a hug and tell her everything was going to be alright.

They didn’t get the chance, because Virgil stepped forward too and hugged Roman tight, like she never wanted to let go. Roman squeezed her back, wanting to tell her how sorry they were with just this one gesture. About a second after it got awkward, the two teenagers broke apart.

“So. You’re back,” Virgil said, not meeting their eyes.

Roman nodded. “Sorry it took so long.”

“You’re an idiot, rushing off to another country right when we really needed you.” She chewed the bottom of her lip, still looking at the floor.

“I know. I wish I’d…rescheduled that. What are you doing here?” Roman couldn’t really think of a good reason why Virgil would be in here, but their brain provided several unrealistic ones.

“I need to know if you can solve the dragon problem, and I need to know now,” Virgil said, looking Roman in the eye. “I can’t keep it at bay forever. I have ideas, but I need to know if you did anything useful when you abandoned everyone.”

There was a pause as Roman gathered their thoughts, flipping through the memories of the last three days. “There’s a place for magical creatures called Lyrwrithe. I don’t know if that will solve it, but a lot of the oopsies from accidental magic are kept there. It’s in Canea.”

“That’s—that’s good. I can use that. We can use that.” Virgil gave Roman a pointed look. “Talk to you in the morning?” She brushed past Roman to the hallway, looking to sleep in her own bed.

“Good night, Virgil.”

“Good night, Roman.”

#ts roman #ts virgil #ts patton #ts logan #prinxiety #sanders sides #starredwrites #sanders sides fanfiction #logicality #teen!sides #fantasy au #bisexual #bi #pan #pansexual #nonbinary #enby #nonbinary!roman #transguy!patton #fem!virgil #glasses gays amirite #trans #trans guy #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #my writing

[thewritewolf]

Eating Habits Chapter 12: A Little Broken

Marinette and Adrien have some troubles at their new apartment, and Adrien makes a long-delayed visit. 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3. 

It was a surreal feeling, being back in her old bed after spending the last few months out of the bakery. Marinette was a little miffed that she got nostalgic so quickly, but after how rough that semester was… maybe it was for the best. A little piece of safety and normalcy in the rough waters she was going through.

Her pencil stilled as she listened to the happy noises filtering up from below her. She smiled to herself, easily picking out the musical tones of Adrien’s laughter. It was that laughter, standing out so starkly against the sound of falling rain and the rumble of thunder, that she remembers most clearly about the day that she fell in love with him. That, and those bright green eyes so full of kindness.

She resumed her sketching, idly committing some ideas to paper. It may still be Christmas break, but that was no excuse to not get a head start on the spring designs. If the end of year show was anything like she was led to believe, then she’d need to do even better than what she had done for the winter show. To her surprise, thinking about all that work didn’t fill her with dread like she had been expecting. Instead, a fire lit in her gut.

“I know that look,” came a small voice beside her. Marinette glanced back at her kwami munching on a cookie as she continued, “That’s the ‘I’m on top of the world and nothing can stop me’ look.”

Marinette snorted and poked Tikki’s belly, causing her to giggle . “I didn’t realize I was so expressive.”

“Of course! You’re a very open person, Marinette. It’s one of the many things I like about you.” Tikki looked around the room with a knowing smirk. “Although that openness with your feelings has taken many forms over the years. Remember when you plastered Adrien’s face all over these walls?”

“Tikki!” Marinette said, mortified. She remembered that most of them were still up by the time she’d gone on her first date with Adrien.

The kwami giggled. “Don’t worry! I’m just saying, when you feel things you can’t help but let those feelings out. It’s nothing to be embarrassed by.”

Marinette relaxed a little. “I suppose… And besides, I’ve traded in the pictures for the real deal. Fourteen year old me would be so jealous of me now.”

“Going to a premier design school, living together with Adrien, defeated Hawkmoth.” Tikki looked at her chosen with a warm smile. “There is a lot for past you to look forward to, isn’t there?”

Marinette leaned her head back and considered what Tikki had said. Rushing from one thing to another for the past two years, and juggling akuma battles with normal life for four years before that, she supposed she hadn’t really considered it like that. Practically every goal she’d made when she was a kid had been met, with the exception of making her own fashion brand. But with how well her online boutique was doing, even that might not be just a dream for much longer.

The smile on her face remained a constant feature for the rest of her stay at the bakery and if Adrien noticed that she cuddled him just a little bit tighter that night… well, he didn’t complain.

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

Adrien let out a big sigh as he stepped through the door to their apartment, taking a few weary steps before plopping himself face first down onto the couch.

From the doorway Marinette giggled. He practically purred when she ran her fingers through his hair as she said, “That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“It’s the exact level of dramatic I intend to keep up going forward,” Adrien said, lifting his face just high enough to meet her amused smile. “So you’d better get used to it.”

“Oh, kitty,” she said, “I got used to it a long time ago.” She pulled her hand away and Adrien pouted at her. “We can watch a show or something in just a minute. I need to start some laundry so I can at least pretend to be busy while we goof off.”

Adrien dragged himself into a seating position to call after her teasingly as she walked out of the room. “You know, you might have a problem with having to stay busy all the time!”

“Yeah, yeah,” she yelled back. “Tell me something new.”

“New? Well, now you’ll have me here to help you all the time.”

There was a pause. “Good. Because I think I could use some help. Like right now?” He recognized her tone as the one she used a lot as Ladybug - the one that allowed no negotiation or hesitation.

Curious, he stood up and marched after her. Inside the washroom, he found Marinette frantically pressing buttons as the washing machine made a strange rumbling noise. Soapy water poured out onto the floor and Adrien leaped into action, tossing towels onto the ground to buy them some time.

Marinette glanced at him while he did so. “That’s good, but it doesn’t fix the main problem.” She huffed at the machine, glaring at it in the hopes that it would spontaneously fixed itself. Sadly, it did not. “I’ll call a repairman.”

Adrien thought back to a couple nights ago, when Tom fixed the dishwasher by himself. This was a part of his duties now, right? “No, wait! Let me fix it!”

“You don’t know how to-”

“I might - we won’t know for sure unless I try, right?” At Marinette’s doubtful look, he pouted. “I know I’m not good at a lot of normal person things, but I have to at least try to get better.”

“Adrien…” She looked at his pouting face and sighed. “Alright, go ahead and try.”

“Yes!” Adrien immediately set to work. After tinkering with the washer for a few minutes he’d established two things - first, that it was definitely not working properly, and second that he had no idea where to go after that. After tentatively searching the machine, he found a hatch in the back and set off to find some tools to help him open it.

After making sure the washer was unplugged he began poking around the insides of it, making more realizations. First, absolutely nothing looked familiar. Which was to be expected since Tom usually said that he’d handle it and let the rest of them relax. And the policy while he was living at the mansion was to either call for the help to fix or replace the whole thing entirely. Usually the latter since… well, his father never wanted more people than necessary to be inside the mansion.

Adrien frowned as he started getting distracted by old memories. After an hour of it and a mounting frustration from his failure to get any closer to fixing the washer, he dropped his screwdriver and walked back into the living room. Marinette was at the couch on her phone. He caught a glimpse of what she was looking on as he joined her - Local handyman and their rates.

His shoulders hunched, he asked, “Already knew I was gonna fail, huh?”

She tugged on his sleeve and he obliged, settling his head on her lap. Her free hand combed through his hair and he relaxed into the touch. If he were behind the mask at the moment, he’d have been purring.

“Kitty, you don’t know how to fix it and that’s okay,” she whispered in a consoling tone. “You don’t have to be good at everything to be loved, alright?”

He did his best to cry as quietly as possible while she was on the phone. He smiled through the tears because he knew he wasn’t crying for his lack of affection early in his life, but because of the unconditional love he had now.

The thought reminded Adrien that, with all that had happened recently, it was about time to make another visit soon.

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

Next week, Marinette was visiting Alya for the afternoon which left Adrien alone for the day. It was finally time to make the trip. Adrien didn’t enjoy going much, but he always felt better after he went.

The first stop was to find some flowers. Adrien knew that she would appreciate them. Being in the dead of winter, it was hard to find some Sharry Baby orchids, but he didn’t give up. Four stores later and he ended up having to purchase a bouquet of fake ones. It wasn’t much - they didn’t even have a scent - but he was sure she would appreciate it. Orchids had always been her favorite. A ghost of a smile flickered across his face. Weird how those sort of things had stuck with him.

It was a long walk to the park, but the cold had never really bothered him and it meant that he was mostly alone with his thoughts. On days where he went to visit, he didn’t really feel like being social. There was just him, the crunching of snow beneath his feet, and the quiet snoring of his kwami that he more felt than heard.

Eventually his wandering brought him to the base of a statue and he looked up in the kind but stony eyes of his mother. The sculptor had depicted her staring ahead, her hands folded in her lap as she sat forever on a stone pedestal. After everything that had happened, he couldn’t bear to leave it at the mansion, especially not after he had sold it. His mother’s side of the family had expressed some interest in having it taken home, but no one protested when he decided to donate it to a flourishing park.

Maybe they didn’t fight for it because they knew that was what she would have wanted - not to have her statue stashed away and hoarded like his father had done, but let it sit inside the bounty of nature. She had always loved plants and flowers and taking care of them. It was another thing he was sure she and Marinette would have bonded over. Adrien smiled. Marinette may have decided on a designer and he knew she would go far in it, but she would’ve made an excellent florist too.

His thoughts returned back to the other side of his family. Maybe they let him keep the statue close by because they’d taken his mother across the channel to be buried with the rest of her family, far away from Adrien and Gabriel. After losing her for a second time, maybe they had felt bad for him, and left him the statue out of pity.

Not that Adrien minded, of course. He had long since gotten used to talking with the statue over some grave marker. Much more pleasant scenery too.

Adrien sniffled and pretended it was just the cold messing with his nose.

After putting the bouquet on his mother’s cold lap, Adrien took a seat on the bench facing her and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket to keep from fidgeting.

“Hey, mom,” he began in a whisper. “I know it’s been a while, but things got pretty crazy for a bit. I meant to visit after the anniversary, but, well…” He took a deep breath. “Anyway, it’s been a hectic few months.”

He swallowed, trying to order his thoughts. “Chloe’s back in town. I think the time in America with Audrey really opened her eyes to what she doesn’t want to be. Plus, she got back with Kagami, so I really think she’s getting better.”

The statue didn’t respond.

“You remember Nino and Alya, right? I’ve told you about them a ton. They’re doing great. Super busy these days, but we find time every now to hang out.” He leaned forward, putting his elbows on his legs. “I wish I had what they do. That… certainty of what they want out of life. I just feel… a little lost, you know?”

He risked a look back at his mother’s eyes and found that same kind expression.

“Marinette - I know you remember her, I’ve talked about her enough - she’s been such a huge help, though. She really is my light.” He stared off into space for a moment, a dreamy smile on his face. He shook his head to pull himself out of it. “Uh, anyway. She started university. She was really worrying me there for a while, but she’s doing better now. But here’s the big news - we moved in! Well,” he added after a moment, “we had lived together before, but now we don’t have her parents to worry about and well-” He blushed and coughed.

“I just… It’s good to be surrounded by people I love and who love me back. It’s…” he looked up at her eyes and held her stony gaze. “...it’s been a while.” He sighed.

A soft wind blew through the clearing, gently caressing Adrien’s face. He inhaled and caught the scent of Sharry Baby orchids on the air.

Adrien felt at peace and continued his one sided conversation with a happier heart.

#Miraculous Ladybug #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Adrienette #ml fanfiction #my writing #Eating Habits #The Lucky One series

[ravenqueen89]

running into light

Here be a Patreon offering for @effelants, who requested dwarf warden/zevran fluff. I might have not gone Full Fluff because I am a terror, but hopefully this is a good read!

Fandom: Dragon Age Origins

Pairing: Natia Brosca/Zevran Arainai

Title: Running into light

Rating: PG-13

Content warning: slight mentions of child abuse and racism.

Summary: Natia’s name means light.

Featuring: biracial and bisexual main character, extremely chaotic tenses, much pondering, the damn Deep Roads, mention of past Natia/Nadezda. I took some liberty with the dwarf commoner origin with Natia having a different father than Rica.

Word Count: 847

Natia’s name means light, and she’s always believed it was her mother’s first punishment, ever since she first found out. Growing up, the brand on her face was only slightly darker than her skin, and she’s still not sure which of the two set her apart more. She just knows how it felt, being so obviously different, being singled out, being unable to hide what everyone else said was wrong with her. She remembers the dust, and the stench of stale alcohol and misery. She remembers her mother’s words, the ones that hurt more than the beatings. She remembers not even fitting in there, in the hovel, in her home, different even from her own family, so unlike her mother, so unlike Rica, with her beauty and her fair skin.

It still feels like she’s been running her whole life, running from the taunts and the hurt and the fury and the hunger and all the pain. That day when she stood in front of the entire Proving with her bare face, she hadn’t felt brave. She’d felt so very tired of running.

She has been running on the surface too, but towards danger rather than away from it, and she doesn’t know what she’s trying to prove anymore. All she knows is that she has to do her best, even though no one will accept her for what she is, even though no one will look at her and see who she truly is.

When they emerge into the bright light of the mountains after crowning Orzammar’s new king, even she feels like she can’t get enough air into her lungs. Her companions have been as silent as her since the Deep Roads, and all Natia can think is that she missed the sky. The image of her sister in her palace chambers is chasing after her, but Natia can’t focus on that. She still needs to make sure that her family is safe, and that doesn’t just include Rica anymore.

Zevran watches her as they make their way out of the mountains, seeking the most direct path back to Redcliffe Castle. Natia can feel his gaze linger, but she’s not quite sure what to say, not now.

The worst night of the Deep Roads had happened when they were on their way back to Orzammar with Caridin’s crown, when the severity of all they’d been through fully made its impact known. They’d made camp in a section that completely lacked light, and the fire had died out quickly in their joint silence. There were lines and shadows on all their faces that Natia had never seen before, and she’d known the sickness she felt was shared by Wynne, and Zevran, and especially Oghren. She’d wondered how she would explain it all to those left in Orzammar, and she’d found herself unable to catch her breath. She’d gone for an aimless walk, to prevent from being seen, and accidentally found a crack in the ceiling that allowed for a barely-there ray of light to make its way into the darkness.

Zevran had found her there, sitting on the ground, her hand the only part of her in the light, and he’d sat next to her, his silence almost unnatural. When he’d finally spoken, his speech lacked its usual patterns, and his direct earnestness had surprised her.

‘That charming lady in Dust Town…she meant something to you.’

It hadn’t been a question, and it certainly hadn’t been what Natia had expected, but the words spilled out of her in the shadows, consumed by the light.

‘She was a light in the dust,’ Natia had said, ‘she made me feel like I was worth something, for just a moment. It was as shortly-lived as anything else down there, of course, and now I have to save the world and Nadezda was punished for knowing me. I wonder what the Stone has to say about that.’

Zevran had been quiet for a long while afterwards, and Natia’s heart fluttered with all the impossible possibilities filling the space between her hand and his. She’d never quite allowed herself to feel, never quite allowed herself to acknowledge whatever this was between him and her, but in that moment she did.

‘You are aware of your worth now, yes?’ he’d asked, and she’d shivered, and kissed him so he would say nothing else.

Now, in the light of day, under the vastness of the sky, Natia looks at him, and doesn’t know what to say. She does know what he meant, though, does know that he sensed the change in her before she did. She’s still running, but not from herself, and in the dark she’s found him, and now they stand together in the light, everything exposed, everything vulnerable

When Natia takes Zevran’s hand, his face is open and trusting, and she thinks about everything they have been through, everything they still have ahead, but she knows that she belongs here. As she lifts her face up towards the winter sun, she thinks maybe her mother hasn’t misnamed her, after all.

#my writing #patreon #getting there getting there #zevran arainai #natia brosca

[startofamoment]

to all the WIPs i’ve loved before

rules: post your favorite parts of 3-5 fics that have been sitting abandoned in your drafts for ages. (for extra shame, throw in when you last worked on each thing.) tag 5 other writers to reflect on their life choices. 

a pen pals au of sorts in which jake and amy share a desk and communicate via post-it notes (last edited: december 2017)

Amy is going to murder her deskmate.

The literal trash heap that greeted her last Monday was one thing, the sticky orange soda stain from last month was another thing, but this – this blatant disregard of property and boundaries and the sanctity of office supplies – is the Last Straw.

Spread out across her entire desk is a good fourth of the Post-it notes from the brand new assorted set she got from her brother Tony. They’re all arranged to look like various Star Wars icons, and a few of them are filled in with marker for apparent color correction. It’s horrifying.

Grumbling, she begins taking apart Post-It Yoda, keeping the salvageable pieces in a stack and throwing out the rest. When she’s cleared her entire table, she grabs her favorite pen and a fresh sheet then writes:

Hi, Please refrain from wasting my Post-its in the future. Thank you. - Det. Amy Santiago

She stares at it for a moment and decides, since this is probably the only passive aggressive note she’s going to write her deskmate, she might as well add:

PS: I would appreciate it if you would leave our desk clean at the end of your weekend shifts.

After checking it over once more, she places it in the center of her desk, ready to be read the following Saturday.

a dianetti cake shop au in which rosa owns and runs a store called arlo’s (last edited: june 2017)

Gina takes a moment to look over some of the cakes on display before clearing her throat and leaning over the counter. “’Scuse me, can you help me get a custom cake order started?”

“Sure.” The baker wipes her hands on a dish towel before grabbing a small notebook and pen from one of her pockets. “What’s the occasion?”

“Some old geezer’s leaving our precinct to enjoy retired life, or something like that.”

“Retirement party? Cool. Tell me about this guy.”

“Oh, sweetie, I don’t know or care about him. I’m just here cause my boss told me to order a cake.”

A smirk forms on the baker’s lips. “Ha. Do you wanna just do a standard cake order then? I usually do the custom cakes for more personalized, special events.”

“That’s probably smart. Which one of your standard cakes say: ‘Congrats on being old and rich enough to never work another day in your life, but sorry you’re almost dead’?”

She snickers. “I don’t know about that first part, but how ‘bout an angel food cake as a ‘hope you go to heaven when you die’ sort of thing?”

Gina grins and fishes through her purse for her wallet. “Oh, you should know my expectations on this cake are out of this world high. I’m only here because Yelp told me you’re the Beyonce of baking.” (Actually, she’s here because at least three reviews claimed the baker-slash-owner was “terrifying” and “gorgeous.” – They were right, on both accounts.)

a sequel to i could listen to you all day // the “after ever after” story in which jake and amy navigate their first year together as soulmates (last edited: march 2017)

Jake’s phone buzzed on his desk, breaking him out of his happy daydream. He picked it up and opened a new message from Gina.

“god, quit making heart eyes at the new girl!! your conscience would be v disappointed, kiddo.”

Gina, who had been watching him like a hawk from her desk, expected him to get all flustered and to text or yell back something overly defensive. She raised a single eyebrow when his face instead broke into a goofy grin and he straight up giggled.

Across from him, Amy looked up from her case files. “What’s so funny?”

He shook his head and mumbled something about memes and the internet.

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips curled up into a smile. After he redirected his attention to his computer screen, her expression morphed into the same openly adoring look he had on his face the entire morning.

And then it all clicked.

If Gina had stopped to think about it, she would have recognized the new disappointment she felt in both herself (for taking this long to put two and two together) and her childhood best friend (for not keeping her in the loop). As she had not stopped to process anything, she instead yelled across the bullpen: “OH MY GOD. JAKE AND AMY ARE SOULMATES!”

All work stopped, and everyone fell silent. For a good minute, all that could be heard was the faint snoring from Captain McGintley’s office.

“Gina,” Rosa half-snarled, half-whispered. “You can’t just say that.”

“Oops, my b. Y’all know I have no conscience now so…” She giggled, winked at the leather-clad detective, and went back to her game of Kwazy Cupcakes.

Jake let out an awkward laugh. “Well, uh, that was -”

Out of nowhere, Charles appeared right in front of their desks. “Is it true, Jakey? Was Amy the voice in your head all this time?”

“I -” He glanced at Amy for help.

She bit her lip and shrugged.

This wasn’t at all how he envisioned making the announcement, but there was no use denying it. Still looking straight at her, his face softened into a smile. “Yeah… We’re soulmates.”

Charles squealed loudly. “You said the S word! Does that mean it’s official?” He gasped. “Have you said ‘I love you’? Have you met each other’s parents? When’s the wedding? What are you naming your first child?”

pretty much a crack fic inspired by the media’s post-olympics obsession with tessa and scott // my spin on a vm au bc i still refuse to write jake and amy as ice dancers (last edited: may 2018)

Like many of the other bizarre situations he’s found himself in, this all started with Gina. Over the last year or so, she’d been posting random photos and videos of all of them at the precinct. (“I’m devoting my energy to my new project, Ginazon,” she’d declared to the entire bullpen. “It’s a one-stop online portal for my legions of followers. I’m just giving the people what they want!”) Given that this was Gina of all people, Jake wasn’t at all surprised to find out that each post garnered hundreds of likes, but he’d never bothered to venture into the comments section. He’d never known about the apparent niche following that had formed, the group of fans – for lack of a better word – waiting with bated breath for him and Amy to get together.

Charles had only spurred them on, what with all the various Easter eggs on his culinary blog. (“This place has everything,” he’d written once. “My co-workers Jake and Amy even gave it their stamp of approval after they’d shared a quick lunch there before a long stakeout. Make sure to ask for the winter salsa; it’s wonderful!”) He’d sworn that none of it was intentional and that he would never do anything to sell them out, but everything he’d written had still been catalogued and analyzed by the pseudo-experts of the fandom. At this point, Jake’s main regret is not reading Charles’ weekly email blasts.

Their downfall – or rise to viral glory – came when someone from the so-called G-Hive happened to be in just the right place at just the right time, catching their (second) completely-platonic, spur-of-the-moment, done-in-the-name-of-justice kiss on camera. By the next morning, “Undercover Cops Lock Lips Before Locking Up Wanted Criminal” had been viewed on YouTube over a million times.

With everything about the entire situation already being so weird, they’d decided to just ignore their newfound fame in the same way they’d pretended the kisses never happened. (“We’re a great team. We work great together. Nothing should mess that up,” he’d said, repeating nearly his exact words from the night before.)

Evidently, there was no escaping this though. A formal press conference was set up, which wasn’t too out of the ordinary for cases that caught the general public’s attention, except they’d ended up having to say more about their dating lives than the investigation or arrest. He can still feel his heart lurching in his chest at the first relationship-related question, still hear Amy loudly stammering out some vague answer about being “very professional.”

a smutty soulmate au in which jake and amy unknowingly share dreams every now and then (last edited: november 2017)

At this moment in time, Amy Santiago is undeniably, incomparably, drop dead gorgeous.

More specifically: she’s in the hot red dress Kylie convinced her to buy on their last post-trivia night celebratory shopping spree; she’s wearing a matching killer shade of lipstick picked out by her fashion-forward, shockingly sexual 13-year-old niece; and she’s got her hair swept into that one elegant yet fun side ponytail that caught her eye in a magazine a few weeks back.

Normally, she’d be proud of herself for managing to pull off such a look, except–

It’s been a good several hours since she tossed her dress into the hamper, wiped the makeup off her face, and tugged the elastic tie from her hair. She’d buried her head into her pillow and wheeze-cried herself to sleep shortly after changing into her pajamas, so overwhelmed with shame and disappointment over the night’s party-gone-wrong.

The thick haze shrouding her current surroundings tells her she’s in another one of her soulmate’s dreams, which helps a tiny bit in explaining her current appearance but really opens up more questions than answers.

tagging: @santiagoswagger​ @three-drink-amy​ @do-me-decimalsystem​ @arnie-santiago​ @sergeant-santiago

for the record, this was inspired by @disruptedvice​ and @elsaclack​’s responses [x,x] to the writing meme!! i thought it was super clever of them to feature little snippets from various works and felt this would be a good way to give unfinished/abandoned fics some love! 

#writing meme #wip meme #tag game #b99 au #i'm honestly shookt at the last edit dates on these #why am i like this #ngl i just wanted an excuse to post some of these bc i'm fairly certain they won't ever be finished RIP #if anyone else wants to do this pls feel free!!! #my stuff

[yumas3lo]

Donovan Carrillo: "I need to worry more about skating and less about money"

New Interview by Proceso, published on August 19, 2018.

Presenting a program with the music by Juan Gabriel in an international skating competition was a double-edged sword for Donovan Carrillo: he became famous, but he was also attacked for it. Under the culture of effort, "always willing to suffer", this 18-year-old is the only opportunity that Mexico has to qualify to the 2022 Olympic Games in Beijing. However, the lack of support puts his goal at risk. While the Mexican sports authorities turn their backs (they didn't pay attention to him when he asked for a uniform) a Chinese company already has their eyes on him. 

Donovan Carrillo was born with rhythm. As a child he could dance to any kind of music. Juan Gabriel and the Backstreet Boys inspired him to move his body. He could imitate the steps of any choreography. He would dance as well as he could do in gymnastics and diving, disciplines that he practiced from three years until the figure skating crossed his path.

On the ice rink in Guadalajara, a girl captivated him. In order to know her, he asked his parents to enroll him. The girl inspired him. Sliding on solid water made him fall in love forever.

It's been 26 years since the last time a Mexican skater qualified for the Winter Olympics Games. Ricardo Olavarrieta was in Albertville 1992 and in Calgary 1988. Carrillo is the only opportunity that Mexico has to have a representative in Beijing 2022. With 18 years old, the Jalisco skater finished in 22nd place in his first Senior World Championship that took place in Italy and in 2017 he finished in 7th place in the Australian Junior Grand Prix.

Carrillo's Olympic project is a familiar goal. His parents, a couple of P.E. teachers who work from dawn to dusk in public schools, carry debts that will soon be unpayable. His coach, Gregorio Núñez, with whom the skater has worked for almost 11 years, does not charge him for the training hours, which can cost between 150 and 450 MX pesos half an hour. He invests his time and money in the dream of someone who already looks like his own son.

"He is the breakthrough of Mexican figure skating. He is the best nationally speaking. He has achieved very important results, such as being the first Mexican to qualify for a World Championships based on points, which has lots of merit. If he didn't had the shortcomings that he lived, he would have achieved more. The Olympic Games will be the culmination of all the effort he has made", says Gregorio Núñez.

In Mexico there are only two ice rinks of 30m x 60m, which are the official measures of the International Skating Union (ISU): in Monterrey and in CDMX. Donovan Carrillo lives since he was 13 in León, Guanajuato, where Núñez moved when he was hired as a coach on the the Ice Sports Center's rink, which measures are 23m x 50m.

He trains there with a grant, without paying for the use of the facilities, but every time he goes out to an international competition he must adapt his programs to a bigger rink, which complicates his performance. There is no way to consider about training outside of Mexico and without Gregorio Núñez. The investment would be around 5,000 dollars a month.

Carrillo works helping to coach Núñez's group. Collecting every coin to pay for his preparation. At this stage it is vital for him to participate in the largest number of international competitions as possible.

"Every time we see things darker so we can't go out and compete. We organize raffles or breakfasts to pay everything. I started selling diaries with training tips. From there we could pay the flight for Worlds, otherwise I wouldn't have been there. I need support from other people to reach my goals. I have raised my level, but I know can give more. I am willing to work very hard. Not having the institutional support does not mean that I'm going to give up", explains Carrillo. Donovan Carrillo was seven years old the first time he had contact with figure skating. At the end of his gymnastics and diving training, he accompanied his parents to pick up his older sister, who was skating with Gregorio Núñez in a rink from Guadalajara.

He discovered that it was a perfect sport for his personality: it involves jumps with turns of high difficulty, like the ones he already did. It includes dance and corporal expression. He left gymnastics and for a year and he tried diving and skating. By that time, he was studying in the facilities of the Sports Institute of Jalisco.

When he decided to train skating on a full-time basis, he had to switch to a conventional school that was not as generous as the one where athletes study. Since his parents weren't enough to pay for training on ice, he also trained roller speed skating. 

Núñez detected in Donovan the talent for this sport. Thin and with short stature, light but agile and very strong, with a natural charisma that allows him to perform with ease in crowded public spaces. He had and an extraordinary rhythm for dancing, which he polished over the years with ballet and jazz classes.

The first day on the ice rink Donovan faced the challenge of maintaining balance on the blades of his skates, which measure is less than half a centimeter wide. He learned the difficult task of standing up correctly with unsteady feet, then he started walking and then marching. He never was afraid to fall. He wasn't measuring the danger, he was encouraged to jump and spin. The many times he fell were when he got up smiling.

"The day I skated for the first time I felt that I found the place where I belong, where I can express myself and feel free", he recalls. In a matter of a month he learned all the basics: pushing, slide back and forth and make simple jumps. The spins in different positions were his biggest headache. At first he was dizzy. He would get lost in space, and although he felt he was spinning a lot, he actually would make less than two turns. With hours of training and perseverance he managed to master them. Later he began to learn the jumps that amaze the spectators: Salchow, Toe Loop, Loop, Flip, Lutz and Axel, three of them baptized in honor of the first skaters who executed them. Each jump can be done with two to four turns. He knew how enter the jumps with the blades, to break the rotation and then slide the whole sole of the foot at the exact moment to avoid falls. A jump in the air lasts less than half a second. There's no time to think. They are pure sensations.

"It's very easy to say. But you have to learn the jump to add another turn. To learn a jump, I can fall 200 or 300 times. But I thought that just as I learned to walk by falling, then I can learn to skate. I learned that it's okay to fall down several times to make it perfect. I stopped and kept going, always willing to go through the pain."

For almost four years, Donovan Carrillo used the skates his sister Dafne inherited to him. The first four pairs he had were white. His mom took them with a shoemaker so that, at least, he could paint them black. At home there was no place to buy his own pair of skates. They were so big that his foot could move inside the boot, which is based on layers of a hard skin, which could hurt him. The feet of the skaters themselves are not pretty. They tend to have calluses and fingers deformed by the narrowness of the skate. They are used to training and competing, involving pain. Donovan does not hide a "second ankle" that he has in the instep of both feet. It's the callus that was formed because his feet were in constant movement, because the skates were not his size. At first it hurt a lot.

His first skates were bought when his sister's skates were stolen. He was preparing for a national championship, so his parents had no choice but to disburse thousands of pesos on them. They are black and by the Canadian brand Jackson, and the blades were a Paramount. He keeps them as the most precious treasure he has ever had.

In April 2013 the Ice Land rink closed. Donovan was training with Gregorio Núñez for six years by that time, then Gregorio went to León, where he was offered a job as a coach.

"When I was 13 years old, I went to live with him. My parents supported me and let me go. My coach opened the doors of his house and I formed a father-son bond. He never charged me for the classes. He does it for the love of sports. I was lucky to meet someone who is willing to sacrifice his personal life to help me fulfill my dream", he says.

Coach Nunez not only loses his salary when he accompanies Carrillo to competitions, he has to leave his students in charge with someone else. In the 14 years that he has been a coach, the updating courses that he has to take each year in United States or Canada run on his own. He learns the best techniques there, and also the judging system, because this is a sport of appreciation.

With 9 years old, Donovan competed in a National Championship that was held in Metepec. There he made himself known in the Mexican figure skating community. The attendees came to congratulate him on the program he presented. In Mexico it is very complicated for skaters to stay competing for many years. As they arrive, they’d disappear.

Then he jumped into the category where skaters of all ages compete, from 12 y/o to veteran skaters. He faced his lack of experience. The world fell apart in his first international event in the Cuautitlán Izcalli rink (which also closed). At the ISU Junior Grand Prix, for the first time he saw Russians, Americans and Canadians, the biggest countries. Out of 18 participants he ended 13th.

"It was shocking. I was not used to it or mentally prepared to see quadruple or triple jumps. I just worked with doubles and tried some triples. I was in shock. My coach helped me get out of the mental block. I discovered that my path was still very long. I was already important in Mexico, but I was very far from the world level. I started to travel abroad to compete, to try out, and I have been reaching the affordable goals I set for myself."

The lack of money lacks as a problem in front of the bullying that Donovan Carrillo has faced. He is well aware about the harassment all the children who dared to practice a sport considered exclusive for women has experienced. Dozens of them who trained, competed in the nationals later disappeared from the sport.

"At school, some people, or our neighbors would ask me 'why figure skating? that's for girls'. My mom was asked if she wasn't afraid that I would become gay for skating. These the prejudices that people have towards men who practice an artistic discipline, such as ballet or gymnastics. Society prevents us from growing and developing in the environments where we truly like to be in. They will say we have stop. There are many who left because they could not stand with the harassment. Sometimes the parents themselves say: 'No. My son will turn out gay', and then they take them to practice football instead."

— Did it affected you enough, to the level of wanting to drop skating? My parents helped me to overcome it. Yes, it came to affect me. They told me: "As long as you like it and you are clear about who you are, it should not affect you. If you are gay, we support you. You don't have to feel different." And I'd tell told them: "Believe me, I'm not gay. I like skating and I like girls". In Europe, skaters do not suffer this, people assume that it is a sport that has nothing to do with sexual preferences. It is very Latin American, in general, to associate it with being gay.

"I suffered a lot at school. They said to me: 'Here comes the [girly] skater'. Nobody can change it, it depends on the education and in the formation of the values of the house of said person, about respect towards others. At first I tried to explain and make them think about it, but people are so cruel. They say it to hurt you. It's useless. You can't save yourself from the comments or doubts. There is a lot of talent and there could be more skaters representing Mexico."

In 2016, when Donovan Carrillo reach fame because he presented a program with music by Juan Gabriel, the harassment escalated to social networks. "You see, he's gay", "They're going to make him gay", they wrote. The athlete was outraged that they used the word homosexual to insult him and as a way to offend his work. He gave himself time to defend himself, but the disqualifications kept going.

The costumes he uses moves away those who wants to offend. Although it is a pair of trousers and a shirt, they wear decorations with Swarovski crystals or sequins and embroidered beads. They are very expensive costumes, between 10,000 and 15,000 MX pesos. You have to choose the best costumes, those that weigh less so that you feel light when you execute the jumps and turnstiles. The brand from Queretaro called Artistic has sponsored him. His mother spent hours embroidering and gluing crystals to lower the cost when his costumes were designed in Guadalajara. The new black & pink suit with that he'll use in his next competitions must be paid by his family, since his sponsor is not in a position to give the money to pay it.

The sportswear firm Li-Ning recently gave him 15 train clothes. He will shortly sign a contract for this Chinese brand to give him whatever he needs. When he asked for a uniform of Mexico to use it in a competition [Kiss&Cry], he never received a response from the sports authorities of our country. With whom he makes his costumes, he ordered to design jackets with the colors of Mexico, for him and his coach.

Between August 22-25, Carrillo will participate in the ISU Junior Grand Prix that will take place in Bratislava, Slovakia. There is another date for him at the end of the month in Linz, Austria, but he will not attend due to the lack of money. The most important competitions for 2019 are the Four Continents Championships and both the Junior and Senior World Championships. He is not sure how many of them he'll be able to participate in, because of the lacking of funds.

"My most important goal is to qualify for the Olympic Games and end in a good place, not just attend there, it's to make all the investment worthy. I'm at a point where it's important to attend as many international competitions as I can to generate a good ranking position and so the classification will be easier to reach, as well as improve my level. I'm very proud because my coach and I have fulfilled all the goals we have set for ourselves thanks to the effort, work and sacrifice we made. I need to stop worrying about my career expenses and just focus on skating."

#donovan carrillo #fstranslations #i still don't want to make a donovan fanblog #translation #other teams #boi #he really suffers a lot #mexico wyd