#// had to re-read the question a few times and settled on that there's probably a missing S

[hero-of-skies]

What is your association with the word Spirit?

" Mmh, this one's a bit of a doozy to come up with an answer for right away but... "

" I think, if you mean what I associate with the word “spirit”, then I'd say Fi, Ghirahim, the Goddess, and hope or morality. "

He seems to hesitate to continue, " but if you mean my association with the sword spirits, well... Fi is the spirit in the goddess sword, so we were destined to meet but still she's my friend and I enjoy spending time with her! Ghirahim? Well, he's the spirit in the Demon King's sword, so we were destined to be enemies. But... I think with enough time and patience, and the right people around him, he could be a better and happier person, because I don't think Demise treats him very well... "

[chrysalind]

last chance

pairing: kuroo tetsurou/reader wc: 860 tags: pre-relationship, fluff, high school setting (third year), bad flirting, kuroo is really trying

"What'd you get for number 8?" Kuroo asks as he leans over you.

"Umm," you tilt your head and the golden light of the late afternoon sun flickers across your cheek. "I think I put down 1868 to 1912."

"Wait, seriously?" He claps his hand on his forehead. That's five questions he's probably got wrong now, not to mention he'd barely finished writing his second essay, meaning the maximum possible grade he could get is...

"I hate history," he grumbles, trying to redirect his train of thought from its depressing destination. "I'm never taking it in university."

You sigh ruefully. "I feel the same way about chemistry. The moment I walked out of yesterday's exam, every piece of knowledge about thermodynamics just—" you wave your hand near your temple, "—vanished."

"Bet you're glad I gave you my notes though, right?"

The train doors slide open and a crowd of students from another school shuffle in. His legs brush against yours as he tries to make more room around him.

"Only because I gave you my English notes," you counter dryly, moving your bookbag onto your lap as a freckled teen slides into the seat beside you. The small plastic Keroppi charm on its side swings erratically against your thigh.

"A more than fair trade," he reasons. "Especially since I was getting the highest mark in chem, while you were just below Takaichi in English."

"Takaichi's mom is from New Zealand," you reply, with a roll of your eyes. "He's been practically fluent since he was born. Plus, your handwriting sucks, so you get points taken off for that."

Kuroo snorts, but has no choice but to concede. After all, he can barely read his own notebooks from last semester.

He watches as the Tokyo cityscape rushes past, still thrumming with life, even as the sun dips low in the sky. It's hard to imagine an afternoon where he won't be packed into the subway at this time, with his loosened Nekoma uniform tie around his collar, and your occasional company on the afternoons he's able to catch you at the school entrance.

His short spell of mourning is interrupted by the announcer as the train pulls into a familiar station. You both exit onto the platform and make a beeline towards the escalators.

"I'm not staying in Tokyo," he says, as you're halfway through the barriers.

Keroppi's face smacks against your zipper as you pause. "Oh?"

"I'm going to Osaka," he continues, weaving through the crowd. You fall into step beside him and there's a second in which Kuroo thinks he's vastly overestimated his importance in your life.

"That's..." He watches as a crease forms between your brows. "I thought you were going to Tokodai."

"Nah," he says, re-adjusting the strap of his bag. "I think it'd be good to gain some independence, you know?"

"Right," you say, tucking your Suica away. The sound of the city fills in the quiet that follows as you step out of the station.

Truthfully, Kuroo had been hoping for something—anything—more than the pensive silence that now settles between the two of you as you both walk the last few blocks of your high school era. But as you round the corner, the weight of the moment only grows heavier.

From his peripheral vision, he can tell you're sulking with your lips turned down in a pout that you probably aren't even aware of. And even though you've never admitted it to anyone, he's not oblivious to the way you can barely hold his gaze for more than two seconds, or how you linger at the intersection when you part ways.

"You know," he says, as you both stand before a crosswalk, "this is probably your last chance."

Your eyes flash up at him.

"What do you mean?"

He straightens up.

"Your last chance to admit that you're in love with me," he blurts. He had meant for it to come out a bit smoother, maybe aiming for a kind of teasing tone, but something had gone horribly wrong in the last second. Embarrassingly, he feels his own cheeks grow hot at the boldness of his declaration.

The crosswalk indicator changes, but you're both frozen in place.

You blink, looking absolutely bewildered, and he begins to fear that he's broken you.

And then an odd sound emerges from your mouth—a short snicker, followed by an open burst of laughter. Your giggle seems to carry over the noise of the traffic around you and Kuroo tries very hard not to die right then and there.

Instead, he forces himself to laugh along. How could he have miscalculated so bad?

He's sure he'll remember this moment for many sleepless nights ahead.

"Don't worry," you say later with the world's most bemused smile, as you near his building. "It's not my last chance."

Kuroo works up the courage to look you in the eye.

"After all, I still have our graduation ceremony."

[luveline]

i’ve been re-reading some of the kbd au and was wondering if u would be up to writing a little kbd blurb wherein steve’s being all flirty and silly with reader? idk what it is but flirty kbd!steve specifically rips my heart open he’s so cute when he’s trying to charm r make r laugh <3 thank u as always mwah

thank you my love!! ♡ kbd au

Bethie brings a drink with her as she enters the living room. Steve a few steps behind her, your husband leans in the doorway and winces with every drop she spills on the floor. 

The cup is half full when it reaches you, but it is for you. "Here, mom." 

"Thank you," you say, tone enthused with bubbly affection. Bethie looks like you rather than Steve, and her smile is a mirror.

"Daddy says, uhm…" She looks over her shoulder at Steve. He nods encouragingly. She turns back. "Dad says to tell you that it's from a man at the bar. Because you look beautiful." 

You sniff at the drink, take an experimental sip. It's Steve's version of a virgin margarita, lemonade, orange juice and a spritz of fresh lime juice. "Ooh, so yummy. You want to try?" 

Bethie wrinkles her nose. "Will I like it?" 

Probably not. "I'm not sure, but it's got bubbles?"

Bethie shakes her head. You don't take it personally, scooping your second eldest up to sit on your thigh. She's not heavy. It's actually really nice when she leans back and uses your tummy as a chair, to be loved like this. 

Steve crosses his arms over his chest. "Come here often?" he asks with a wink. 

"Only every day, handsome." 

"Handsome? You're two timing the poor dolt stupid enough to buy you a drink, you know." 

"Poor dolt should've used his eyes." You gesture to either side of you, where Avery, the eldest, sits to your left and Dove, the youngest, lounges at your right. "I'm clearly taken." 

"Can't blame a guy for trying. I mean," —Steve whistles, looking you up and down, but he can't commit to his skit, and he cracks a smile— "hot damn, look at you." 

"Come here," you say. 

Steve's smile turns smug. He dodges the small margarita puddles on the way and leans down to kiss you, his hands on your face, a spritely peck that turns to kisses all over your left cheek. "Was the drink okay?" he asks, rubbing at your cheek with his thumb when he's done. 

You meet his eyes. Sugary brown, little flecks of honey crushed as his pupil grows bigger the longer he looks at you. "It's nice. I like your margaritas more than the store bought. Thank you, honey." 

"Oh," he hums, kissing you again. "You're welcome." 

"Daddy," Dove says simply. 

Steve knows what she wants, he can read their wants and needs from less, scooping her up to perch on the end of the couch. She can still fit into the curve of one arm if she tries. 

"Let me guess, you wanted a margarita," Steve teases, sliding a hand under her shirt to tickle her tummy. 

She laughs but ultimately protests, waiting for Steve to kiss her. He noses at her forehead, kissing her temple softly. "Better?" he asks. 

She settles in his arms and turns back to the TV, content. 

"See? You're not the only one in high demand." 

You sit back and beg him with your eyes to do the same. Steve does so immediately, shoulder to shoulder with you, pressing the tip of his nose to your cheek. Bethie wriggles in your arms and Avery asks about dinner, but for a few silly seconds, it's just you and Steve. 

"Love you. You look really, really pretty today. I had to tell you," Steve says. 

You reach out to squeeze Avery's hand to show you've heard her question. "I love you too, Stevie. Thank you." You make me feel really, really pretty. 

Especially when he says it like that. Three kids and he acts as though you're pretty enough for an urgent telling. Steve would tell you you're even prettier than the day he met you, and he's consistent enough that you genuinely believe it. He's your number one fan, and you're his. 

"Takeout?" you ask.

Steve's eyes glow with love. "Did I mention that you're beautiful?" 

[dirtyvulture]

Peeping Jeff

Natasha Romanoff x Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Summary: You and Natasha have some fun when an uninvited guest stops by.

Word count: 2095

AN: Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

No land sharks were harmed in the writing of this fic.

“Eyes on me,” Natasha says.

“Yes, ma’am,” you say, as if you’ll dare disobey her. Not when she’s dressed in the thinnest pair of black lingerie she owns and is currently rotating slowly around the stripper pole she had installed in the bedroom almost a month ago. It was probably the best investment the two of you ever made, and even Tony had to comment on its usefulness when he brought the contractors in.

You settle back in the bed, ready for your private show. You’re only wearing your boxers now and the bulge between your legs continues to tent as Natasha scales up the pole almost to the ceiling. She wraps her legs around it, wedging it in the crook of her knee to hold her weight while she lets go with her arms, leaning back until her hair cascades in a fiery red wave. 

“Don’t touch yourself,” Natasha warns when she sees your hand moving towards your own crotch. You can’t always help yourself; seeing your girlfriend like this demands an attention that she is too far away to provide. You sigh in frustration, but force your hands back to your sides.

Natasha slides down the pole a few feet, tilting back until her head is lower than the rest of her body. Your eyes focus on her perfect breasts ready to spill out of their delicate cage and how perfectly they press together when she moves. 

She suddenly releases her hold on the pole with her legs and she drops to the floor.

“Nat!” you cry, almost jumping off the bed until you see that she’s stopped herself just in time, now hovering inches off the floor. 

“I’m fine,” she snips, almost like she’s upset you thought she had so little strength and would hurt herself.

“Okay, okay.”

As Natasha continues her performance, neither of you notice that it’s now become a public showing when two dark beady eyes look through the crack of the bedroom door that you’ve accidentally left slightly ajar. The eyes widen when they see Natasha and the silver, shiny pole. But after a few moments, they are distracted by the rumbling in their belly and continue padding down the hall to the kitchen. 

By the time Natasha is off the pole and sauntering over to you, you’ve given up all restraint and are jerking yourself off in your boxers, stopping only when she climbs on top of you and grinds down on your crotch.

“Did you like my show?” Natasha asks, but it’s a pointless question.

“I loved it, baby,” you pant, tilting your head up desperately for a kiss. You don’t even notice she’s pulled your boxers off and her own panties until you suddenly feel her wetness brush against your cock. “Oh fuck, Nat.”

She sinks down without warning, enveloping you in perfect, silky heat. You buck up instinctively, trying to fit your entire length into her, the ache of arousal in the pit of your stomach slightly soothed as she surrounds you. 

Natasha locks her hands around your neck to steady yourself as you thrust into her. You press your face into her chest, inhaling the scent of her skin and wrapping your arms around her back to keep her close to you.

“Right there, baby,” she moans as you jack your hips up until they slap against hers. “Keep going, keep going.”

“You’re always so tight around me,” you grunt, twitching at the sound of your slick cock sliding in and out of her. “You’re so perfect, Nat. Every part of you.”

She hums in agreement, bouncing on your cock and causing the whole bed frame to shake. 

You hadn’t realized how turned on Natasha was over her own performance until her walls clamp around you, almost preventing you from pulling out, and her wetness dripping down your cock. You thrust up in one final, rough move, emptying yourself into her, your hips raised off the bed until your thighs are trembling from the effort before you collapse back down and Natasha rests on top of you. 

The two of you stay like that for a long time, until your alarm goes off, alerting you that you have to get ready for the next event.

***********************************************************************

“I swear, we go to one of these a week,” Natasha says, snagging a martini from one of the passing waiters. She clinks it against your cocktail glass and the both of you take a sip in solidarity.

“You know Tony. Any excuse he has to party, he’ll put one on,” you respond, turning with her to face the crowd of people swaying on the dance floor. You swear you’ve never seen the same person twice at these parties and sometimes wonder if Tony just puts up a flier on the Internet advertising there’s a party at the Avengers Tower. It would explain the amount of times you’ve been asked to take pictures or sign autographs. 

“You tired?” you ask Natasha as she sighs and leans against your arm. 

“Not any more than usual.” You know she’s not a fan of these gatherings any more than you are.

“We can go soon,” you offer.

“It’s okay,” she says.

The two of you sit at the bar and try to avoid any other interactions. You bob your head absently to the beat of the music as Natasha drinks another martini. Bruce comes over, trying to strike up a conversation with Natasha as you glare at him with your arm looped firmly around her waist. 

“Tony said he had a surprise for tonight,” Bruce says. 

“Is it going to happen anytime soon? It’s almost our bed time,” Natasha yawns.

As if on cue, the music suddenly stops and the lights flash on to their full power. The crowd on the dance floor murmurs their annoyance as Tony appears on the DJ’s stage.

“Thank you to everyone who came out tonight!” he says. “I know I host a lot of these, and I’m always trying new things to keep them interesting. Behold, my latest addition to the Stark party experience!”

Tony holds his hands up, and the spotlights direct to a panel on the ceiling that slides back. Something silver and shiny pokes down, slowly revealing itself to be a singular, metal pole. It takes a second for it to click what it is. 

“Oh God,” Natasha says, shaking her head.

“Is that a stripper pole?” Bruce asks.

“Yep,” you answer. “I wonder if he got the idea from the one we had installed in our room–”

Bruce turns on you incredulously. “Wait, you have a–”

“Who wants to give it a try?” Tony asks as the lights dim, all focus on the shiny silver pole now. No one in the crowd moves at first. 

“I will give it a go!” a deep voice booms and Thor comes forward as people begin cheering and clapping for him.

“Oh, this will be good,” Natasha comments. You move closer to get a better view of your co-worker as he steps up to the pole, sizing it up for a few seconds before grabbing onto it firmly. Women start cheering as Thor hesitantly swings himself around the pole, as if he doesn’t trust such a flimsy object to support him, but with the encouragement of the crowd, he gains some confidence and starts to dance as if the pole is his partner.

“Only Tony could come up with something like this,” you say, impressed at how flexible the god of thunder is.  

“This is definitely going online,” Bruce notes, counting the number of cellphones people have out to capture the moment.

“You want to give it a try, Nat?” you tease.

“Nope. Because that’s a show for you only,” she says, pressing against you to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“All right, all right, give it up for the god of thunder!” Tony says, gesturing for Thor to leave center stage as the crowd of women swarm him from your view. “Who’s up next?” His eyes sweep across the room, searching for another victim. You accidentally make eye contact with him and your heart drops as he points to you. “Come on over, Y/N–” 

“Mrrrr.” 

You pause mid-step as everyone hears the same noise echo in the room. It’s one you’re more than familiar with, but you aren’t quite sure it’s the right one you’ve heard until you see Jeff the land shark, in his one-foot tall glory, waddling towards center stage.

Murmurs carry around as the little shark approaches the silver pole and gives it a few sniffs.

“Is that Jeff?”

“What is he doing here?”

“Is he even old enough to be here?”

“Mrrrr!” he huffs indignantly at that last comment. When you pause to think about it, you aren’t really sure what Jeff’s age is. While he is a great deal smaller than his terrifying, fully-grown counterparts, rumor had it that Jeff aged just the same but simply did not outgrow his smaller form. So for all you knew, he was perfectly of age to be at a Tony Stark party.

“Give it up for Jeff the land shark!” Tony exclaims, increasing the volume of the music. 

“Go, Jeff!” you shout and Natasha smacks your shoulder. “Ow, what was that for?”

“Do not encourage him! He’s just a baby and probably shouldn’t even be here–”

“We don’t know that for sure,” you defend.  

“Watch him be better than Thor,” Bruce says.

Jeff stands on his hind legs to inspect the pole; you wonder if he has the grip strength to lift himself up. Natasha had lectured you on the difficulties of her new hobby, even offering you the opportunity to try it yourself, and while you were plenty strong, you had no flexibility or grace, thus resulting in a less-than-stellar show for her. 

However, Jeff is already showing you up as he clutches onto the pole tightly with his fingers, pushing off the ground with his back feet and using his momentum to swing around the pole with his round body.

People scream and cheer at his first attempt. He steadies himself, carefully inching up the pole until he is at a height where everyone in the room could see him. He tilts his head back as he spins around the pole again, almost like he’s in slow-motion. You had no idea a land shark could be this graceful or fluid. 

Everyone is entranced by his performance, as Jeff flaps his tail to propel himself faster around the pole. He dips back until he’s almost upside-down, before he lessens his grip on the pole just enough to come sliding down at a speed that drops your heart, but he stops before his head touches the floor. 

The applause is raucous.  

“Isn’t that what I did last night?” Natasha says suddenly, but you’re too enthralled to respond. 

“He’s better than you, Nat,” you tease with a nudge. Jeff climbs up the pole again, then clamps his jaws around it, swinging his round body out in a move you can only describe as being the land shark version of a human flag–one of the most difficult calisthenic exercises you’ve ever tried to learn. But whereas it took you months of intensive training to achieve a human flag for even 5 seconds, Jeff seems to have flawless core strength as he holds his body out, perfectly perpendicular to the floor. 

“YEAH, JEFF!” you scream, scaring Natasha. You’re probably one of the few people here who truly understand the difficulties of the exercise, and you want to make sure Jeff’s feat is appropriately appreciated.  

Jeff takes the pole in his hands again, twirling around it while pausing in several positions with his legs split or kicked out. He mimes walking on air for a few seconds during his descent and if the crowd hadn’t been loud already, you’re pretty sure they’re going to shatter the windows. Jeff lands safely on the floor, bounding up and bowing as people take pictures and continue to cheer. 

“I wonder where he learned how to do that,” Bruce says, clapping his hands.

“Yes,” Natasha agrees, a strange realization dawning on her but she’s too embarrassed to say it out loud. She will have to make sure the bedroom door is properly closed and locked from now on. “I wonder…”  

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

AN: Special thanks to @nameforthemain for this beautiful sketch that inspired this fic!

Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[imwall-e]

Until we meet again : Chapter 1

Pairing : TB!Arthur Morgan x Reader

Warning : MAJOR SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN'T PLAY THE GAME, major character dea•th, tuberculosis, angst, (tell me if I forgot some), reader but external POV

A/N : I wrote this a few months ago and finally decided to post it. I'm really proud of this chapter, my best work so far (imo). I first wrote it in French and mostly used Deepl to translate the text, and even if I re-read it, they may be some mistake so don't hesitate to tell me! This is not beta read. This is my first work for the Red Dead fandom and I hope it's good. Consider liking, rebloging or commenting if you like my work (and feel comfortable with that of course).

The atmosphere of Beaver Hollow was already being felt long before we arrived at the new camp. The area was dark, damp, stinking. It was as if it were haunted. Cursed. As for the cave, it was a concentration of all that, only worse. Once home to a local gang nicknamed The Rejects of Murfree, it bore indelible traces of the horrors it had harbored. The smell outside was unbearable, but inside was a vision of dread. Blood was visible from floor to ceiling, pieces of decomposing corpses smeared all the way down to its entrails. Impossible to settle inside.

Where just a few weeks earlier the gang had been celebrating their exit from the snowy mountains, and everyone was ready to give their all to make a new place a comfortable place to live, now there was no laughter to be heard. Not a smile was to be seen on any of the faces. Only whispers, distrust, fear and death reigned.

And Arthur… his coughing fits were becoming more violent, and more frequent. His skin was pale, contrasting with the blue of his eyes, which betrayed his illness and fatigue.

Outlawed, hunted by the Pinkertons or opposing gangs like the O'Driscolls, he'd been shot at many times. And yet, he was dying of tuberculosis. A fucking disease. After all, he'd probably earned it with the life he was leading… had led. His punishment for beating up Mr Downes. A good man, always ready to help others even though he didn't have much.

Arthur, who'd never done anything right. Or so he thought, but she was always there to remind him otherwise. After Mary, after Eliza, he never thought he'd fall in love again. Then she'd come along, and offered him more than he thought he deserved.

Arthur had met her while hunting. She was wearing a long white dress. At first, he thought he saw an angel. Then their eyes met. He saw the fear in her eyes and decided to put down his bow. He introduced himself and she gradually seemed to calm down. After a few minutes' silence, she finally told him her name. Her voice trembled, but she'd asked for his help: she was supposed to be getting married that very day to a man she'd never met. But what she was looking for was freedom.

She wanted to travel. To discover. To live. And Arthur had offered her all that. For five years, they'd been happy together. Arthur had even proposed to her while they were still in Blackwater. But they'd kept it a secret until things got better.

Unfortunately, the moment never arrived.

Micah was a traitor. And Dutch had blindly followed him, going so far as to question the words of John and Arthur. He'd rather believe a dangerous madman than those he considered his own sons.

Arthur should have left after the Blackwater massacre. Hosea had tried to warn him when they'd all fled to Colter. Or he should have let Micah hang at Strawberry. If only he'd been willing to open his eyes to what Dutch had become. To his true nature. If only.

But it was too late now, and there was no point in dwelling on the past. Now he had t o protect those who remained. Tilly had already taken Jack to safety. Abigail was safe thanks to him and Sadie, and the two women had left to join Tilly. Mary-Beth and Karen had probably escaped too. She was the only one left. And he knew exactly where she'd be safe.

He helped his young fiancée onto her mare, then settled down behind her. He wanted to smell her hair while he still could. He wanted to hold her close. However, time was running out and lingering was a luxury they couldn't afford. The person he was looking for was passing through the Annesburg area, but they'd better get moving fast. He nudged the horse's flank to move it forward, and whistled for the stallion carrying the young woman's belongings to follow.

The journey wasn't long, but it went by faster than he would have liked. A dilapidated house appeared in the distance. Arthur had exchanged a few letters with the man who had taken an interest in his bleak landscape, a man he had helped not long ago. He was standing outside, setting up his camera. His gaze wandered to them, and he soon recognized Arthur.

"Mr. Morgan! I'm so happy to see you again! As you may have noticed, I've given up taking pictures of wildlife. I'm now content with the magnificent landscapes" exclaimed Albert, warmly greeting the man who had helped and saved him on numerous occasions. But his familiar enthusiasm soon disappeared when he saw the young woman's tears and Arthur's sickly pallor. "What's the matter?" he asked worriedly, abandoning his camera.

"Mr. Mason, I need you to…" but Arthur was interrupted by a coughing fit causing him to cough up blood as he stepped to the ground. "I'm dying and I'd like you to take care of my fiancée."

The young woman tried to smile at Albert, but knowing that the man she loved would soon be leaving her was too much to bear. It dashed all memories, all hopes of a better life with her cowboy.

"I'm sorry I haven't written to inform you, but recent events haven't given me the opportunity," Arthur resumed after helping his beloved off his horse.

The tears continued to roll silently down the cheeks of the woman who was to become Mrs Morgan. She was silent now, staring into space.

"Mr Morgan…", Albert didn't know what to say. This kind man, who had come to his aid so many times, was going to die. He could see the sadness in the lovers' eyes. And Albert saw only one way he could do something for them: "Don't worry, I'll take care of mademoiselle."

Arthur was relieved: she would be safe. She would live. He turned to her: she seemed no more than a ghost. But she had to fight. For him. For her. For them.

"I love you, Princess," he began, taking her in his arms. "More than you can imagine. I wish I'd said it more often. I regret so many things. But I promise we'll meet again. Not in this life, unfortunately, but in another. I'll find you again."

"We… we… we didn't even have time to get married," she managed to articulate between sobs, the crying resuming in earnest following Arthur's words.

"It wasn't our time. Now you must stay with Albert. Live, princess. Do it for me. I'll always watch over you, but promise me you won't let yourself die."

"I… I promise, Arthur."

That was all he needed to hear. He had to go now. He had unfinished business with Micah, but also with Dutch.

The sun was setting as he rested his forehead against hers. His way of kissing her for the last time, wanting to avoid her contracting tuberculosis too. He squeezed her hands and heard her whisper "I love you, Arthur".

He gently let go of her hands and she kept her eyes closed, not wishing to watch him go. To tell the truth, she was so focused on remembering his scent, his laugh, his voice, that she didn't even hear him mount his mare and gallop away.

When she opened her eyes again, the sky had darkened. A storm was approaching. Arthur was gone. Only Albert remained, looking after the stallion carrying the young woman's belongings. He knew she wouldn't move immediately, but it was time to go. He'd better get back to the cabin he'd rented before nightfall.

"Mademoiselle, I'm sorry but we must leave now. Tomorrow we'll go to Rhodes, my house is close to the city."

"Of course," was all she could reply, her gaze fixed on the mountains.

The journey to the cabin Albert had reserved was silent. The storm was roaring in the distance. She held back from joining Arthur. But she had to keep her promise.

Without Arthur, life would be difficult. Her heart would be broken forever, but she had to try. And one day, they would be reunited. She had to believe that.

The rain finally came, falling on her cheeks and mingling with her tears. She couldn't stop thinking about all those mornings she'd wake up alone. She couldn't accept that he wasn't coming back. Ever.

"Mademoiselle?" Albert's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "We've arrived. You should try to eat something and get some sleep." He didn't know what to do or say.

She followed him silently. Inside, she sat by the window, where she could see the mountains near Beaver Hollow. Soon, she closed her eyes, tears still flowing.

Her mind took her to a river in the middle of the woods. The light wind gently moved the leaves on the trees. She was wearing a long white dress. A branch cracked, startling her. But it was only Arthur, wearing the hat he always wore and the blue shirt she loved so much.

"You're beautiful," he said, and she threw her arms around his neck. "Dance with me?" Was there an answer other than "yes"?

And, each immersed in the other's gaze, they danced. Without stopping, they talked about their future: having a ranch, raising horses, starting a family. A quiet life away from traitors and the Pinkertons. Just them.

"I love you, Arthur."

"I love you too, princesses," he replied, kissing her tenderly. A deer passed by them. Then nothing.

When she opened her eyes again, she knew Arthur was gone.

It was nearly nine o'clock when Albert and the young woman began their journey to Rhodes.

"I think you'll like Rhodes very much, mademoiselle. It's much quieter and warmer since the Gray and Braithwaite families, two rival families, entered… well, since they left."

The young woman smiled at the mention. It brought back memories that were certainly recent, but seemed so long ago. But her smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared as she recalled Sean's death.

Then came Kieran's turn. Hosea. Lenny. Eagle Flies. John. And Arthur.

Sensing that she wouldn't talk any more than she had the day before, Albert decided to talk to her about anything and everything, in the hope of distracting her from the sadness that overwhelmed her, even if only for a few minutes.

"The landscape is also much brighter. Annesburg offers beautiful scenery, but it's a very dark, eerie area. Rhodes is nicer, warmer."

Albert was right: the further they got from Annesburg, the fresher the air seemed, the more colorful and welcoming the surroundings.

She glanced back one last time, to where Arthur had remained. Her heart sank. She felt she was abandoning him. But she had to stay strong.

Finally, Rhodes appeared before them as the sun tinted the sky orange, ready to give way to the moon.

"Miss, look!"

A majestic deer had stopped in the middle of the road, staring at them with its big dark eyes.

"It's the first time I've seen one approach like that. They're usually very frightened," Albert continued.

The deer approached the young woman and rested its muzzle against her leg. She gently touched its large antlers, then the animal moved away, disappearing among the trees.

"Goodbye, Arthur."

I hope you liked this first chapter!

[curioussubjects]

Feedback Fest 2024

Since everything I've read for the past 1.5 years has been pilots, all 10 of the fics here are Kara/Lee from Battlestar Galactica. I'm only listing one fic per author, so be sure to check individual author pages if you liked their style.

(go here over on @transformativeworks for more info!)

1. In the Whole World by pennyante (M, ~80K, WIP)

Summary:

The Cylons aren't quite human, and the humans haven't quite forgiven them. Political stability is less certain than ever now that the war is over: Lee Adama finds himself up for re-election, where being defeated will mean a Gemenese theocracy puppeteered by Leoben Conoy. Meanwhile, Kara Thrace has nothing but questions about her death and destiny. The only answers available come in the form of the vision of a temple, and from her hybrid/comatose husband's cryptic ramblings about a sister artifact to the Arrow of Apollo.

There's violence in the air. Civil war looms. Can Lee and Kara save each other, and keep the fledgling colony whole?

Thoughts: The best season 4 fix-it, lives in my head rent free, rewired my brain, etc. Also I've read it, like, 3 times (and I cried).

2. We're Not Friends by ninety6tears (M, ~25K)

Summary:

When two soldiers in the middle of a war can't seem to like each other, baptism by fire is apparently the natural solution. (AU in which Kara never knew Zak and first meets Lee after the fall of the colonies.)

Thoughts: I love a different first meeting AU, and this one takes pilots on a fun rivals to lovers spin that works surprisingly well. They're still very unwell about each other, though, make no mistake.

3. Artemis Rising by clairza (M, ~11K)

Summary:

The next morning Lee makes a few phone calls, and when everything has been organized and his credit card has been used for the first time in three months, and he’s had the pleasure of telling his mother that no, he has plans this week, he tracks Kara down in the quad. 

She's lying on her stomach poking sticks upright in the grass. He sits down beside her, and he can see the tension in her shoulders.

“So,” he says casually, and he’s very proud of the way his voice doesn’t shake at all. “I hear the Aegean Peninsula is nice this time of year.”

“It probably is.”

“I’ve booked a unit.”

“Where are you going with this, Lee?” Thoughts: I have a huge soft spot for fluffy academy pilots and this fic absolutely delivers. Happy baby pilots go to the beach five stars no notes.

4. An Arranged Meeting by lark_ral (E, ~11K)

Summary: Even outside of wartime, you might be surprised by the pressures our service men and women are under. The most effective among them either have, or need a release valve. Thoughts: Lee and Kara are scene partners for years, then the Cylons come. Somehow less messy than the show, but still delicious.

5. Rota by leda13 (E, ~2K)

Summary: The days are arbitrary, in space. Bereft of the guide of a planet's rotation around the sun, they live in slices of time, stealing as many as they can. Thoughts: Emotional support curtain fic of pilots sneaking around.

6. Sufficient to the Day by rachelindeed (T, ~1.5K)

Summary: At the sound of Lee’s voice, she feels her stomach twist and drop. Reluctantly, she opens her eyes and sees him come to a stop an arm’s length away, settling one elbow onto the corner of the bleacher behind her. His jacket is unbuttoned, his hair mussed, jaw ghosted with stubble, and the frakking sun is rising behind him. The look on his face is casual and fond, but he breathes as if he’s been running. Thoughts: Mandatory UB morning after fix-it...sort of. I really like this one because all I wanted was for Lee to get to Kara first. Or for him to call her bluff. This fic is both. It's not a showdown on main street like I enjoy joking about, but it's quiet and it's them (so it's better!).

7. Contrecoup by Fahye (T, ~2.2K)

Summary:

Contrecoup (n): A concussion or shock produced by a blow or other injury, in a part or region opposite to that at which the blow is received, often causing rupture or disorganisation of the parts affected. (One story told right-way-up, the other told upside-down, but both in the same narrative.)

We begin at a single point in time. The present goes forwards. The past goes backwards.

The story is AU-within-canon and set after episode 1x11, "Colonial Day."

Thoughts: I can't say too much because I don't want to spoil the fic. So: a bit angsty, a lot sweet, with a side of Kara's amazing problem-solving skills.

8. Lee's Emo Coffeehouse by haycorn (M, ~2.9K)

Summary: Lee has a bar, and sometimes Kara makes his life more interesting. Thoughts: I love cute modern AUs in general, and I love them even more when there's pining involved. There's not nearly enough of this type of fic for pilots, either! Many thanks to the author for their service. Would read 100K of this 'verse.

9. Breathing Room by callmeonetrack (M, ~12K)

Summary: Kara and Lee adjust to their new, very separate lives on the Pegasus. Badly.

Thoughts: My favorite Pegasus fic! Being on the Pegasus sucks, but then Lee and Kara find each other and things get better. Chef's kiss, peak pilots.

10. And I Feel Fine by hazellazer (M, ~2.4K)

Summary:

“That was… that… why?”

Her hands stay firmly on his face, thumb brushing over his cheek. “I was just thinking—”

Cutting her off, he smirks. “You think?”

She swats at his arm, hard enough that it might actually bruise. “I thought you were dead, Lee.” Her gaze is harsh on his, voice rasping, before something softens. “And I should’ve done this the second I knew you weren’t.” Thoughts: Season 1, but Lee and Kara are together. It's nice, refreshing, and plain good.

[nocturneindream]

Gallows of the Dreaming

~ Chapter two: The Exorcist ~

~ 18+ | Minors DNI | AFAB Reader | No Y/N ~

AO3 | Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own any characters from The Sandman comics or Netflix series. This is purely creative writing.

Word Count: 8.5k

Chapter warnings: Violence, graphic depictions of gore, religious themes (exorcisms & demons), relived trauma (childhood memories of abuse), foul language, Dream unintentionally being a bit of an ass.

If you might be triggered by any of the above, I'd recommend skipping this chapter entirely (especially the gore TW). There will be enough context in the following chapters to understand what happened.

A/N: Strap in, this chapter’s a long one. Could it have been split up into multiple? Probably. But I like my fics long & wordy. I know this took a while (and that’s an understatement) & hope it was worth the wait for those of you who read the first chapter. If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me a DM. They will be listed in the comments just to keep the actual post length manageable.

As always, feel free to comment, send in any questions, and like/re-blog this post. Enjoy!

- Kathryn ;)

Do NOT re-write, translate, copy, re-post, or claim my writing as your own. Thanks!

“It’s a bit late for a cup of coffee.” You remark tiredly, flopping into the opposite end of the small booth. The brunette’s eyes don’t meet yours as you settle into your seat, too engrossed in people-watching through the dew-drenched café window. She rests her head in one hand whilst the other mindlessly sirs her drink. 

“I could do without sleep for a while.” She says, bringing the plain mug to her lips, face scrunching at the bitter taste. You make note of the light purple rings beneath her eyes as she reaches for a miniature cup of half-and-half between you, wondering how long she’s been awake and what’s kept her up. “Besides, I’ve got a job after this.” 

“Well,” You sigh. “Then I won’t keep you for long. Did you find anything?” You hope she did, hope you’ll finally have something - anything - to point you in the right direction. Wordlessly, she snakes a hand into the tote bag at her side, retrieving a manilla envelope and sliding it across the sleek table.

“What’s this?” You question,  pinching open the prongs and pulling out the scraggly piece of yellowed parchment inside. 

“A family heirloom.” A small smile graces her lips as her eyes glaze with memories. “My Gran used to tell me stories all the time. Fairytales, really.” 

You scan over the drawing in your hands: Two men seated at opposite ends of a tavern table, dressed in period clothing. Late eighteen-hundreds if you had to guess. Beneath the sketch, the parchment reads: ‘The Devil and the Wandering Jew.’ 

“What’s the fairytale behind this?” 

“According to my Gran, an ancestor of mine hunted him down.” She pauses to peel open and stir the creamer into her coffee. “She was shit with managing her money. Nearly lost it all to god knows what, and with creditors pounding at the door she was starting to run out of options. By some miracle, she found that drawing stitched inside a dead man’s pocket and figured anything would be worth the gamble to save her from losing her status and being forced to beg on the streets - or worse.” She sips from her mug, a hum of approval sounding in her throat. “So she hunted him down, and when she found him, demanded riches and immortality.”

“What happened then?” You press, and her brown eyes finally meet yours. “Well, obviously he didn’t grant her immortality, or else she’d be the one having this conversation with you. But, he did offer her a few odd jobs. She earned his respect, and his money.” Respect and money from the Devil. An interesting story, but not what you’d asked for. Perceptive eyes catch your disappointment from beyond the rim of her mug as she takes a long swig.

“What’s the matter? You seem a bit edgy.” You fight against the knit of your brows, the disheartened frown tugging at the corners of your mouth. Her mug gently clangs against the table as she sets it down and leans over her elbows into your line of sight, redirecting your attention from the page.

“I appreciate you digging this up but,” You shake your head, slipping the drawing back into its envelope. “I didn’t need information on the Devil. I needed information on the Sandman.” Your former classmate nods in understanding.

“It wasn’t the Devil she’d tracked.” She reaches across the table, swiftly pulling the envelope from under your fingers and back toward her. “Dream, she called him. Dream of the Endless.” Dream. It’s no lead, but it’s certainly more than you’d managed to find out for yourself over the last three weeks, and you’re grateful for her effort.

“Thank you, Johanna.” She waves away your earnest gratitude, pinning you with an inquisitive glare. 

“Tell me why you’re digging about the business of an Endless.” Her demand catches you off guard, though it shouldn’t. She’s always been quick and to the point, never missing a single piece of the puzzle. If there’s information to be gained, she’ll find a way to get it. No matter the cost. Precisely why you’d enlisted her help.

“It’s a long story.” 

“Then make it short.” Frankly, you’re not sure you should tell her. She might think you’ve gone mad. What should it matter to her? But, the truth - with a mind of its own - erupts under her intimidating stare. 

“Roderick and Alexander Burgess are why” You admit, fidgeting with the tag of your coat. “Had him locked in their basement for almost a century, naked and alone in a glass cage.” 

“Jesus fuck.” She hisses, eyes wide. “So you’ve met him?”

“I freed him.” You shift uncomfortably in your seat, eyes cast down toward your twiddling thumbs. If you thought long enough about it, you could still feel the grains of sand against your cheeks - in your eyes, his chilled hand against yours as you tugged him loose. Your palm tingles with remembrance, and you clench your fist. A poor attempt at replacing the sensation. Johanna spots the movement. Nothing gets past her. 

“If you’re as smart as you were back in school, you’ll move on.” She speaks truthfully, as though that’s the obvious - sane -  answer to your situation.

“Why would I do that? I’ve already put so much time and-” “Move on.” She urges, placing a warm hand atop yours. 

“I need to make sure he’s ok.” 

“You want to make sure the immortal personification of nightmares is ‘okay’?” She chides,  eyes rolling at your sentiment. “You’ve lost the plot, mate.” Ouch. 

You yank your hands from under hers, grabbing at the coat in your lap, muttering, “I should go.” You wiggle out of the booth, ready to leave, but nimble fingers catch your arm. 

 “I don’t work for free. You still owe me for getting you that interview,” She takes the envelope between her fingers, waving it near her face. “And for this.”

“How much?” You watch the cogs turn in her mind as she eyes you up and down, determining her price. No doubt expensive.

“Nothing you can’t work off.” Headlights flash through the window, sharpening the shadows of her cheekbones and jaw as she slides out from her seat, gathering her things. “Let’s go. Cab meter’s ticking.”

The London street lights gleam like a beacon off the silver circle on Johanna’s belt as she steps out of the cab, popping the collar of her pristine, white coat. Her sleek hair whips against her cheeks as she turns to you with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“If you’re going to be messing about with primordial entities, then it’s time you learn what I do for a living.” She rotates on the heel of her boot, long strides swiftly carrying her up the concrete steps ahead. “Maybe that’ll change your mind.” 

“It won’t.” You stubbornly assert. Her pace slows to a stop as she throws a patronizing glance at you over her shoulder. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but believe me. I already know the risks.” You don’t need a lesson in the dangers of magic. The aftermath of the Sandman’s release had been enough of an example. 

You’d awoken the following morning tucked neatly between your soft sheets, unusually well-rested. The memories of the night before were so…hazy, as though they’d been no more than another nightmare. Until you heard them, the muffled sobs that floated down the hall and into your groggy ears. Only then had you realized the severity of the matter - the countless, horrible possibilities.

Though you shouldn’t have cared - not after all you’d seen and discovered, you shot toward the shared bedroom of your bosses, your heart a lump in your throat. The cries grew louder and louder, and as you flung open the door, you realized they’d been coming from Paul. His shoulders shook as he clung to the clammy hand of his partner, pleading into deaf ears, “Come back to me, Alex.”

Alexander Burgess laid before him, cold sweat dripping from his brows, head thrashing against his damp pillow. Continuous, frightened whimpers fell from his open mouth, as though he’d been trapped within his worst nightmare. A fitting fate, you thought as you stared at him, somehow knowing - sensing - the Sandman had delivered his due punishment. You couldn’t help the guilty satisfaction the sight brought you.

Paul hadn’t noticed your presence at first, not until you’d placed a soothing hand on his shoulder, as he had done for you many times before. For his role in releasing their captive, he’d been granted the small mercy of being spared. Though as you watched the tears cascade down his red, swollen face, you wondered if it could be considered mercy at all. He was utterly powerless, forced to watch as his lover suffered a fate worse than death.

“Do something!” He pleaded. Despite knowing there was likely nothing you could do, you stepped around the bed and peeled back Mr. Burgess’ eyelids. His pupils shifted, dilating and constricting rapidly. Heavy, panted breaths heaved from his chest as his body struggled to adjust to his affliction. 

You shook your head, softly confirming, “There’s nothing I can do, Paul.”

There was no cure for this. Not even trained, award-winning doctors had been able to wake patients with the Sleepy Sickness. Nearly one hundred years had passed and patients still suffered, trapped within their dreams and nightmares. Some never slept at all. No cure, no known recoveries, no miracles. In one night, Mr. Burgess was lost to the world. A resentful, nasty piece of you silently thought, good riddance. 

“What do you mean?” He scoffed. For the first time since you’d met the man, his usual pleasant tone was nowhere to be found. “Aren’t you his caretaker?! Fix this!” He demanded. Your eyes searched his twisted expression for some sense of reason, finding nothing but seething, misplaced rage.

“This is your fault, you know! I’d still have my Alex if it weren’t for you!” Snot dripped from his nose, mixing with the avalanche of tears free-falling from his bleary eyes. “Get out!” He bellowed, voice reverberating throughout the room - rattling your chest. He had never raised his voice at you.

Though the words had been born from grief, you couldn’t shake your outrage. How dare he? You wanted to yell, to stoop to his level and throw his actions back in his sniveling face, but part of you understood his perspective. While he had finally pushed himself to right the wrongs of his past, you had been the catalyst. Had you not snooped through the library, Paul would have lived out the rest of his life with the person he loved most, complacent - happy. You bit your cheek, closed your eyes, and held your tongue as he continued his fit.

“I want you out of this house by nightfall or so help me-” He wiped his tears away with the sleeve of his robe, eyes dulling as he turned back to his lost lover.

You weren’t naive. It had been apparent from the moment you laid eyes on the man in the glass that your time at the mansion would soon run out. Though you’d grown fond of Paul, you knew there was no coming back from what had happened, from the knowledge of what he’d allowed. You blinked away your tears, grabbed your things, and haven’t looked back since. You’d done the right thing, even if the fallout had been difficult to witness. 

“Constantine.” You’re torn from your memories by the familiar depth of the voice that calls, breath catching in your throat at the sight of your stranger. 

He’s clothed this time, clad in an all-black ensemble. Your eyes trail down the buttons of his knee-length coat to his slender hands as he tucks them inside his pockets. He’s focused solely on the woman in front of you, and you’re unsure whether he’s unaware of your presence or has purely chosen not to acknowledge it. Does he even remember you? How could he not? Three weeks. Three weeks of searching tirelessly only for him to stumble upon you. 

“We have business, you and I.” He speaks confidently, demanding her immediate attention. She scoffs, squinting at him as though she can’t decide if they’ve met before. 

“Get in line.” Her shoulder knocks against his as she pushes past him, unaware of who he is and the power he holds. “Can’t keep God waiting.” You remain frozen in place, baffled by the coincidence at hand. 

His eyes settle on your figure, a dazzling shade of light blue, far from the feral, black celestial portals you’d seen behind the glass. The arrogant confusion from his interaction with Johanna ebbs away, replaced with recognition. Though wrapped tight within his gaze, you’re faintly aware of the fact that Johanna’s left you behind, entering the church to attend to her work for the night.

“Hi.” You exhale, forcing yourself to remember how to breathe as butterflies swarm in your stomach. Nearly a month had gone by since his release, and seeing him now - outside the glass - floods you with a sense of victory and relief. 

“We meet again.” He offers a slight tilt of his head toward you in greeting before going after Johanna. The butterflies wither, dropping dead in the pit of your stomach as he nears the church behind her. You’d risked your job - your life - to free him and the most he had to say was ‘We meet again’? 

“Hey!” You call, hot on his heels. “Wait up!” His figure slips through the slim opening of the large doors, and as you catch up, pushing them open further, he’s seemingly vanished. The only beings occupying the room are Johanna and another woman who, based upon the white collar around her neck, you presume works within the church. They speak in hushed tones, Johanna visibly wound up by their conversation as the other woman tries to state her case. 

“No! It’s too risky with the royals. I already told the queen.”

“But-” 

“If this goes sideways we’ll have a dead princess on our hands, a demon on the loose, and I’ll have no one to pay my fee.” You softly clear your throat and their heads whip in your direction. 

“There you are!” Johanna waves you over. “Ric, this is an old university mate of mine. She’ll be assisting tonight.” Ric’s wary eyes skim you from head-to-toe.

“Brave soul you are, working with Johanna. You’d probably be better off with the demon.” She laughs, nudging your arm with her elbow in a failed attempt at lightening the palpable tension. Her joke falls flat, smile dropping as Johanna shoots daggers in her direction. 

“What if I triple your fee?” Ric offers, hands wringing the spines of the leather-bound books she holds as distant screams echo from the far end of the church. The scent of rotten eggs permeates the room and you gag, pulling the collar of your shirt over your nose to block out the stench. 

“What the hell is that?”  You ask, disgusted.

“Sulfur.” The women confirm simultaneously. 

“You’re an exorcist?” You question, remembering a Demonology class you two had shared as part of your undergraduate degrees. You never thought she’d make anything of it beyond research. The unbridled shock on your face doesn’t go unnoticed by Ric. 

“You didn’t tell her?” The older woman’s worry-filled eyes flit between the two of you. Johanna simply shrugs. 

“Well,” Ric sighs. “You’ll be needing these.” She hands a book to you both with a tight-lipped smile and offers - mostly to you, “Good luck.”

The church is nearly empty as you step atop the altar platform, illuminated by the golden glow of the few remaining candle stands. The room had been cleared, pews moved out of sight - out of the path of destruction, as though Ric knew things would get messy. You admire the painted figures within the grand mural, heart thumping to the rhythm of the growing footsteps outside. 

An exorcism. You assumed these were rare occurrences in modern times. But according to Johanna, they’re far more frequent than she’d like. You fiddle apprehensively with the book Ric had given you - the Rītuāle Rōmānum, spine straightening as the doors creak open.

Johanna and the Princess enter with another, unexpected figure lagging behind, his fingers entwined with the Princess’. Her immaculate, white smile matches the sleek, floor-length gown she wears, not one blonde hair out of place on her head. Her partner - you presume - appears less than enthusiastic. He forces a small smile as she turns to share her excitement with him, his face falling as soon as it’s out of her sight. It dawns on you at this moment that you and Johanna are about to ruin what should be the happiest day of their lives. Or at least the happiest day of the Princess’ life. Johanna slips around your side, a white collar now tucked into her black shirt, and lightly grips your arm. 

“Just go along with it.” She speaks to you through pearly, clenched teeth as she grins happily at the couple, stepping forward to begin the ceremony.

“It’s a pleasure to be your officiant tonight, Princess. This,” She waves her hand fluidly in your general direction. “Is my assistant and your legal witness. Any questions before we begin?”

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” The question comes from the Princess’ fiancé, followed by cold, calculating silence. 

“Of course I do, Kevin.” She tongues her cheek, a poor attempt to push back her anger. “Why else would we be here?” Her fixed glare pins him in place, a warning that should he press further, there will be hell to pay. 

“I just meant like-” He gulps. “Don’t you want all your family and photographers and stuff and-” 

“No!” She snaps, startling herself and her jumpy partner. She quickly softens her expression and voice, reeling in her irritation. “I just want you.” She nods to Johanna, beckoning her to continue the ceremony.

“Do you, Princess, take-”

“I do.” Johanna’s brow raises at the interruption, but she continues. “Do you, Kevin, take the Princess to be your-” An audible crunch echoes through the room as the Princess’ hand bears down on Kevin’s. You hold in a surprised gasp, feeling awful for the young man before you. He has no idea that he’s hitching himself to a demon.

“Then repeat after me,” Johanna begins, flipping her book open. “Dā locum, dīrissime,” Your mixed voices fill the empty space as the words are recited. 

 “Dā locum, impiissime.” Kevin’s stomach releases a loud gurgle, discomfort overtaking his expression. 

“Sorry,” He grunts out. “Probably just hungry. Y’know how it is before a big game-”

“Kevin!” The Princess whispers sharply. “It doesn’t matter.” She gestures for Johanna to continue. “Keep going.”

“Dā locum, Chrīstō.” Kevin doubles over, coughing and gagging as his hands claw at his throat. The princess is beside herself, scoffing and rolling her eyes at her partners’ obstructive behavior. 

“Kevin, seriously? At our wedding?” Johanna ignores the woman, a lioness targeting her prey as she stalks toward the man, continuing to read from her book. 

“Quī tē spoliāvit, quī rēgnum tuum dē strūxit!” Two large, meaty fingers emerge from Kevin’s mouth. He chokes on them as they slither out, veins protruding from his forehead and neck, eyes beginning to bulge from their sockets as the hands become wrists. 

"Quī tē victum ligāvit, et vāsa tua dīripuit!” The sickening crack of Kevin's jaw echoes throughout the room, his body jerking backward as two full, muscular arms emerge from his mouth. His flesh rips and squelches around them, blood oozing down his neck from every facial orifice. The hands reach around to grip the back of Kevin's head, claws sinking into his scalp as they pull from either side. A loud roar bellows from the Demon inside Kevin as his body shreds in half, leaving the Demon standing amidst a gooey puddle of flesh and shattered bone. 

Intricate, runic scars line its abdomen, spine visible outside its back and pierced between each vertebra with large silver hoops. Blood splatters stain the Princess's white gown, her eyes wide with shock, mouth agape as she stares in horror at the remnants of her fiancé. Pushing your own terror aside, you rush for the Princess, wrapping an arm around her waist to pull her out of harm's way. 

"Come with me." You direct her. "It'll be alright, Ric will get you out and safe." You call out for the older woman, guiding the princess toward the nearest exit. Ric promptly takes her from you, stumbling back a step as she fleetingly takes in the gruesome scene. 

"Fucking hell." She gasps, steering the Princess out of your grasp.

"It was Kevin, not the Princess." 

"You don't say." She sarcastically intones, swiftly guiding the Princess out the door. As much as you want to follow them, you - perhaps idiotically -  can't bring yourself to leave Johanna behind.

"Tell me your name!" Johanna demands, Holding a crucifix up to the Demon as it towers over her. The Demon merely laughs, lurching forward and striking Johanna with the back of its massive fist. The impact sends her flying across the room, her back slamming into the mural. She groans as her body drags down the wall and hits the floor, but quickly regains her senses. She rolls over, pushing past the pain to search for her book through blurred vision. Without hesitation, you crack open your copy, hell-bent on finishing what you and Johanna had started, shaking hands making the small text difficult to read.

"Vīsitā, quaesumus," Enraged, the Demon whirls, its long, hoofed legs carrying it in three mere strides across the room. Your knees buckle as it launches toward you. "Domine, habitātiōnem istam et omnis-” 

“Silence!” It snarls at you, surging forward with its giant arm raised like a club, ready to strike again. You shield your head with your arms and squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the impact that never comes. 

“Agilieth!” You risk a peak, eyes cracking open to find the Demon’s arm halted just before the top of your head. A wicked, sharp-toothed grin splits across its face as it turns to address its caller - the Sandman. He stands in front of the altar and Johanna, hands casually tucked into his coat, undaunted by the sheer size and strength of the Demon.

"Lord Morpheus," It growls. "You're almost unrecognizable without your helm." It mocks, tone dripping with disdain.

"It was traded to a Demon."

"Yes, but which demon?" Its grin stretches as the Sandman's eyes gleam with hope. In your peripheral vision, you catch Johanna pulling herself upright against the altar. Rītuale Rōmānum back in hand, she cracks open the book, resuming her recitation of the Latin prayer and interrupting whatever business the Sandman seeks with the Demon. Her face is that of the cat that caught the canary. Knowing the Demon's name, she holds the power to condemn it straight back to Hell.

“Constantine, stop this at once!" The Sandman shouts as the ground below Agilieth twists into an open pit of bright-orange fire and smoke. With eyes even more desperate than the night of his escape, he stretches his arm toward Johanna, begging her to stop. Why would he have her free the Demon? What could be worth the risk?

“Dream of the Endless commands you!” Agilieth roars, cursing at her as she ignores their pleas. Tendrils of smoke form into hands that scrape and pull at the Demon's mountainous figure, hauling it inch-by-inch into the pit. “I’ll tell you everything I know, my lord!" Its claws leave tracks on the ground as it sinks deeper, only its head remaining above ground level. "Don't let her send me back!” Ash and embers whirl through the hot air, stinging your cheeks. You hold your breath as Johanna fearlessly stands over the Demon, the reflection of hellfire flaring in her eyes.

“Exī, ergō, Agilieth!” With her final words, the Demon slips into the pit, and the ground seals over. The silence deafens you as you watch the Sandman’s shoulders slump, his face turned solemn, staring at the claw marks left across the wooden flooring.

"You have no idea what you’ve cost me." He speaks softly - defeatedly, and the words are a boulder of guilt crashing into you. You did the right thing. Didn’t you? You couldn’t have let the Demon roam free, free to find its next victim, free to create a larger mess than any mortal could be capable of cleaning up.

"I'm sorry," You stutter, apologizing nonetheless. "I thought-"

"Don't apologize, mate," Johanna winks at you, entirely satisfied with herself as she snaps the book closed and tosses an arm around your shoulders. "We've just tripled our fee." You're reluctant to follow as she guides you out of the church, your eyes still locked with the Sandman’s, but her grip is firm and commanding. 

Thunder rumbles above as you step outside, Johanna pausing in the doorway of the church to converse with Ric, likely discussing payment. You step aside to grant them some privacy, leaning against one of the giant stone columns that uphold the awning, and watch as the lightning within the clouds reveals various shades of lavender and coal.

 You’re lucky, you realize. Lucky to have come out unharmed. Johanna will be lucky if she isn’t as bruised as tonight’s sky tomorrow morning. You wonder how she could willingly subject herself to this on a regular basis. The money must be phenomenal, you think, hands still trembling from the commotion - the rush.

"Why are you here?" Your ears tingle at the pleasant depth of the Sandman’s voice, the whisper of pleasant chills rolling across the top of your skull and down your spine. He’s closer than expected, his shoulder brushing yours as he eases into the open space beside you. Icy, piercing blue eyes shimmer beneath the gloomy night lighting, studying - questioning. 

"Why are you?" You counter, residual adrenaline governing your words. “Dream of the Endless.” A faint smirk curls the corner of his mouth at your boldness, but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes, and that guilt… it gnaws at the last remaining sliver of your confidence.

"Something of mine came into Constantine's possession." He divulges, watching you - reading you.

"What could she possibly have of yours?" 

"I answered your question, you will answer mine." A give and take, so be it. You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch on the nervous knot forming in your throat. Your feet shift in place, crunching against the cobblestone as you attempt to clear it away. 

“After everything that happened with Mr. Burgess,” You swallow. “I wondered where you went, what you’d done to him,” His eyes implore you to continue, but you can’t seem to produce another coherent thought under their intensity. So you avert yours, once again finding the colors in the flashing clouds.

 “I-” You take a deep breath, rubbing your arms to settle the goosebumps. “I guess I just wanted to make sure you were ok.” You admit, embarrassment tingeing your cheeks. You know how silly it sounds given the danger involved in pursuing him, but you had questions that needed answers, and - much like your former classmate - you’ve always been relentless in your quest for knowledge. 

When you find the courage to meet his unwavering gaze, you find him scanning your features. Your reddened cheeks, the tense pull of your brow, your lips as you nip uneasily at the chapped skin. For a moment, he seems as though he may apologize, his small smirk and studious stare softening into concern. But, you’d made your choice. He’s no need to apologize when seeing him outside the glass - free - is enough to resolve any lingering guilt over what happened to Alex and Paul - to you.

“My sand.” He answers your earlier question. 

“The Sandman without his sand.” You find yourself giggling, hardly noticing how close he’d stepped until you could feel the comforting heat radiating from his body, shielding you from the harsh wind like a fluffed blanket, pulled fresh from the dryer. It’s dizzying - distracting.

"Morpheus." He corrects.

"Hm?" You hum, mouth disconnected from your mind as it scrambles to process what he’d said and the sudden, intoxicating warmth. He’d been so cold when you’d first met, when you’d pulled him from the glass, when he’d held and guarded you against the nightmare smoke.

"My name." 

"Hate to interrupt your little chat,” Johanna begins, approaching the two of you. She shoots a cagey glance toward Morpheus before opting to ignore his presence entirely, aiming her words at you. “But it’s about time I bugger off.” Her fingertips tap the back of your arm gently. “I’ll be in touch.” Her eyes speak without words, questioning your safety - your comfortability -  with the Sandman’s proximity. You offer a small nod, simultaneously confirming your security and acknowledging what she’d said.

"Constantine." Her name rumbles from his chest as she moves to scurry away, more of a demand than a request. She begrudgingly turns, hands smacking against her sides as she confronts him.

“What do you want with me?” She sneers, arms crossing over her ribs. “I don’t have time for this.”

"You have something of mine.” His expression hardens. “I'd like it returned." 

“What could I possibly have of yours?" 

“His sand.” You chime, watching in amusement as two of the most strong-willed individuals you’ve ever come across continue their stare-down, wondering who will be the first to concede. You’d never known Johanna to back down for anyone, and Morpheus, well, you’d witnessed his endurance firsthand. 

"That was yours?” Her brows raise. “Couldn't even get the damned drawstrings open." Her tongue pokes at the inside of her cheek as she ruminates on where she left the sand. “I've no idea where it's at. It's been missing for ages." She concludes.

"We must find it." He asserts, towering over the woman as he emphasizes its importance. "Without it, my realm - humanity - will cease to exist." She rolls her eyes, considering his words far too dramatic for the circumstance.

"Alright,”  She tilts her head to look up at him, a playful smirk sliding up her cheeks as she realizes how vital her compliance is. “I'll help you find it first thing tomorrow-"

"No-"

"Tomorrow." She reiterates firmly. "I'll help you. Trust me, I wouldn't want you and your little friend following me all over the place." You and Morpheus share a look of confusion, focusing your attention in the direction Johanna points. A raven, perched on the edge of the base of another nearby column squirms under each of your stares.

"My friend?" He squints at the bird, stepping closer to investigate. Its eyes quickly shift over Morpheus before scooting aside a few inches to gain some space, head twitching side to side, up and down. Morpheus raises his chin, shoulders squaring as he looks down his nose at the raven. “Tell me your name.” He orders.

"Matthew, Sir." This night is full of surprises, you think, delighted by the nasally voice that comes from the talking bird. Morpheus, however, appears rather indifferent - displeased, even.

"Matthew,” He scowls. “Tell Lucienne that I have no need for a raven-" You turn, ready to share your bewilderment with Johanna, searching your surroundings for a glimpse of her dark hair, only to find that she’s disappeared into the night.

"Morpheus." You call. He ignores you - or maybe doesn’t hear you - as he continues lecturing the raven. 

"If I require assistance, I shall ask-" 

"Uh, y-you do, actually, Sir." Matthew stutters, catching on to your distress and Johanna’s absence. 

“Morpheus!” You shout. Tired and frustrated by his blatant disregard, you tug harshly on the sleeve of his coat. His head whips toward you, initial fury at your action quieting as he notices the absence of your friend - his only chance at reclaiming his sand. 

"She's gone." You sigh. He draws his gaze from over your shoulder, down to your fingers, still curled around the soft fabric of his coat, and back to your eyes. You release him immediately, mumbling a curt apology.  

“Go back to the dreaming, Matthew." Morpheus dismisses. 

“With all due respect, sir. The boss lady sent me here to help you because, like it or not, you need me.” Matthew declares, hopping closer to Morpheus. “Less than twenty-four hours ago, I had thumbs, lived my whole life here. I know how to navigate this world.”

"My last raven was sent to help me too." Morpheus’ cold gaze has the bird’s feet shuffling again, his tone low - warning, rumbling in tune with the rolling thunder.

"Yeah, and what happened to them?” Matthew sasses. “You fire them too? Send them back to the dreaming?" You’re amazed - jealous, even - by Matthew’s confidence as he stands up for himself. 

"She died while trying to save me." You wince as images of the white-bellied raven from your nightmare flicker in your mind's eye. The splattered blood across her bright feathers, her desperate caws as she beat herself against the glass. You doubt you’ll ever be able to rid yourself of the haunting memory. 

"What was her name?" You dare to ask.

"Jessamy." As he meets your pitying gaze, he quickly blinks away the tears that threaten to form, steeling his expression, pretending the memory no longer carries any weight in his heart. 

"I'm sorry for your loss, Morpheus." You feel awful, awful for describing even the smallest crumb of your nightmare to him when you first met. You want to apologize for that too but decide against it, not wanting to push the subject any further.

“Well,” Matthew continues after a moment of respectful silence. “I don’t plan on dying again anytime soon. We'd better get moving if we want to find her by morning. We should have a good eight hours while she sleeps. If we put our heads together, I’m sure we can figure out her-”

"Sleep," Morpheus murmurs to himself. "Yes. If she is asleep, I know exactly where to find her." He extends a hand for you to take, and you do so without a second thought, allowing him to pull you into his chest the same way he had the night you’d freed him. His hands skim the small of your back as they circle around your waist, his head dipping beside your ear, voice just above a whisper as he instructs, “Close your eyes.”

You comply, digging your fingers into the side seams of his coat as a vortex of wind envelopes your bodies. Your feet lift and float away from solid ground, the vortex pushing and pulling your limbs in every direction. You hang onto Morpheus as though your life depends on it, daring to open your eyes just long enough to catch a glimpse of the black smoke that carries you. Your skin blanches with fear, mind sucked back into that bone-chilling darkness, the nightmare void that had nearly swallowed you whole.

You’re left breathless and wobbly as the smoke clears, continuing to cling to Morpheus’s coat with a death grip. Your mouth opens and shuts, words refusing to flow freely. His hands slide from your back to cup your upper arms, squeezing reassurance and holding you steady as you struggle to pull yourself together. You know the fear is irrational, know that he - as proven before - would not allow the smoke to harm you, but the sensation of the nightmare refuses to leave you in peace.

"Breathe.” He reminds, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your shoulders as he tilts his head down to draw your frightened eyes back to his. “You are unharmed." You savor the touch, your heartbeat gradually slowing to match the pace of the soothing strokes. 

"What was that?"

"A method of travel without my sand." 

"Well, it was awful." He retracts his hands, almost as though the words had offended him, fingertips skimming down the length of your arms as they fall back at his sides. 

"Then you will not experience it again." He promises.

"Wait-" 

"The pouch is here.” He confirms to himself, surveying the apartment building he’d brought you to with assurance. “You will remain outside with Matthew." As if on cue, the raven swoops down beside you. His feathers ruffle and twitch as he settles on the ground, beady eyes darting between you and Morpheus. 

"How do you know? Didn't Johanna say she lost it?" You watch as he glides toward the building, as though being lured by some invisible pull. 

"I can feel its power." Morpheus steps inside the ominously dark building, leaving you alone with Matthew.

 After a while, you find yourself enjoying the raven’s dry, witty humor, chatting to pass the time. But as what should have been no more than a few minutes becomes well over an hour, your playful banter begins to slow, both of your eyes anxiously tracing and examining the apartment complex.

Strange, you think. Something about the building rings every alarm bell within you. Though the hour has hardly passed midnight, not a single light shines from the building. Not from the lobby, the porch lights, or any of the visible windows. As you observe the building, you notice the piles of untouched mail littering the main entrance, moving to pick up a few of the grimy envelopes. 

"Matthew,” You begin, scanning over the unpaid electricity bills, violation notices, and letters dated as far back as three months ago. “Something's not right."

 He titters over, talons faintly clicking across the concrete, and you squat beside him, holding your findings out for him to see. He tilts his head, eyes darting over the envelopes in your hand and all across the floor. After a moment of careful consideration, he opens his beak to say, "I think we should let the boss handle it." You scoff, tossing the mail aside as you stand. 

“What happened to that confidence from earlier? I thought you weren’t afraid to help him.” You shoot for the doors, hands clamping over the sleek, modern handles. Matthew’s caw startles you, winds flapping as he lands on top of your hands. 

“That-That’s not a good idea.” He warns, stalling your movement. “You have no idea what’s in there. The boss said-”

“Your boss, Matthew. Not mine.” You remind, and his feet squeeze around your skin. “If you won’t go in there and help him, I will.” He kicks off your hands, talons scraping the concrete as he lands back on the ground, mumbling under his breath, “He’s not gonna like this.”

You tug open the heavy door, streetlights instantly absorbing into the black hole of the lobby, revealing nothing to your squinted eyes as you cross over the threshold. The door clicks closed behind you, leaving you vulnerable in the dark. There’s a sickly-sweet stench lashing at your nose, rolling in your gut. As much as you’d rather not find out what the smell belongs to, your fear of the dark drives your shaky hands into your pockets, reaching for your phone. 

The contents of your stomach turn to lead as the flashlight winks to life, illuminating the half-decayed corpse of a woman not two feet in front of you. You stumble back, feet squelching and sticking to the floor as acid rises in your throat. Her flesh droops and pools beneath her, melting and mixing with other various fluids into the tiled floor. Hollow cheeks and cloud-white eyes stare up at you. The foul scent strengthens, and suddenly you’re retching up the contents of your stomach, mindful enough to avoid her body. You wipe your mouth with the sleeve of your coat, willing yourself to face the woman again. How long has she been left here, fusing with the floor? 

“What the fuck happened here?” You breathe feebly, stepping around her. You notice - as you avoid inching too close - the faint twitch of her left eye. “I’m going insane.” But the nearly inaudible gurgles emitting from her throat confirm you’re not. Alive. She’s still alive. How? 

Unable to face her any longer, you shine your light further into the room, revealing a messy trail of gooey footsteps. You follow them, vicious chills spidering down your spine with each step as they lead you up the staircase and down the eerily silent second-story hallway. Some primal instinct inside you screams for you to turn around. You know you should, know that you’d be safer waiting outside with Matthew. But what if Morpheus needs your help? What if he’s been captured again? What if? 

At the end of the long, looming hallway, yellow light flickers beneath a chipped, word-down door. You head for it, ignoring the sticky substance coating the silver knob as you turn it. 

Much like the rest of the building, the room is pitch-black as the door creaks open, no sign of the light you’d spotted. Maybe you’d imagined it. The same way you’d like to believe you’re imagining the slithering, shifting shadows that lurk along the walls and ceiling. Maybe the shock of everything you’ve experienced tonight is finally catching up to you. The flashlight of your phone fizzles out, a red battery symbol mocking you as you frantically shake the device. 

“Just my fucking luck.” You hiss, reaching for the switch on the wall, shuddering at the cold, moist goo that coats your fingers as you flick it upward. 

To your surprise, the room brightens, dimly illuminating the crumb-coated carpet and various discarded dolls strewn about. You carefully step around them, hesitantly following the muffled sound of cartoons playing to your left, the living room - your living room. You lean over the familiar grey couch, mutely stunned, sight caught on the mess of tangled hair poking above it. A little girl, no older than five or six, sways from side to side as she sits on her heels, inches away from the TV screen. Sweet, high-pitched giggles tumble from her belly as she remains unaware of your presence, sucked into her show. Though you cannot see her face, you know - feel - that she is you.

A woman’s voice grates through the laughter, calling your name. Your mother, you realize. Something in your chest tightens with pain as the little girl - little you - doesn’t seem to hear her. Another call of your name, followed by thunderous footsteps. Your sore stomach clenches, heart pausing a beat as you watch your mother’s figure overshadows the young girl. She watches a moment, waiting for little you to notice her in the doorway. When she doesn’t, like a bat from hell, your mother flies into a rage. She snatches little you upright by the collar of her oversized nightshirt, teeth bared as she barks at the child, “You will answer me when I call your name!”

“I-I didn’t hear you! I swear!” Little you stammers, eyes swelling with stinging tears. 

“Of course not! You’re selfish!” Your mother yells, spit stringing between her teeth, the strong smell of alcohol wafting off her hot breath. “You think you can just ignore me whenever you want?!” You close your eyes, body jerking at the sharp smack reverberating in your ears. Your muscles tense, becoming rigid as you listen to the gut-wrenching sobs coming from your younger self.

“I’ll give you something to cry about!” You weren’t selfish or ignorant. You were just a child, completely wrapped up in your favorite escape from this - the abuse. 

Your body relaxes as you hear your mother stomp away from the room, allowing you to open your eyes, to see your younger self. She stands before you, her face cupped inside her palms as she sobs with such soundless intensity that her breath remains stuck in her chest. You round the couch, dropping to your knees before her, your own tears falling as you embrace her. One hand strokes her hair as the other soothingly rubs her back, offering the comfort you wish you’d received. 

“Shhh.” You try to calm her. “It’ll be okay. You’re not alone.” You coo. The pressure in her lungs releases, and she gasps for air, bawling against your shoulder as her small fists curl into your sleeves. 

“I-I didn’t mean to- to-” 

“Shhh…I know. I know.” You hug her firmly, providing as much support as you possibly can. Eventually, as her sobs dwindle into light sniffles, her arms circle around you as best as they can, returning the affection. You rock her gently, swaying from side to side as she had been earlier, humming that special lullaby you’ve always loved. 

Preoccupied with comforting little you - healing that broken shard of your past, you’re inattentive to the preternatural strength of her hold. You rock the child, even as her arms constrict, a boa around a mouse. Your shoulders strain, joints aching under the increasing pressure, threatening to pop from their sockets. As the air begins to thin, you wriggle and writhe against her, leaning back to see her face - its face. 

Sickly green and filled with malice, its mouth - where her cheek once was - opens into a blood-curdling, razor-toothed grin as it says, “We’re ssso hungry.” Its voice is at once one and many, splintering into that of a hundred - a thousand - sneering, distorted children. 

Through your bleary eyes, the facade of your childhood apartment fades away, leaving you in a slime-coated, moldy, abandoned apartment. Choked whimpers bubble from your throat as you watch its face continue to shift, features slipping and sliding across slimy skin. How could you have been so blind, so easily betrayed by your senses? 

"Feed usss." Comes another sinister voice from behind, just above your left shoulder. "Itsss been ssso long." Now above your right as the creature’s nails dig into your skin, warm liquid - blood - dripping down your arms. You hardly register the pain as you watch its eyes roll back into its mutating skull, replaced with glowing, yellow orbs. Its flesh becomes a viscous, gelatinous substance, seeping into your clothes.

Your mind empties of all words except one name, “M-Morpheus!” You rasp, the plea scarcely audible through the many, ravenous voices mimicking and mocking around you. I’m going to die, you think. Your face, heated from the rushing blood and lack of oxygen, twists with dread as you’re suffocated by the creature.

“We’ll devour you whole!” It growls the words as it opens its cavernous mouth, lining you up to ease you down its slick, greasy throat. You thrash in its grasp, hysterical sobs tearing the inside of your throat. 

"Enough!" The creature retracts at the bellowed command, a hand gripping and pulling you up by the back of your neck. Morpheus, you realize, brings you to your feet, shielding your quaking form behind his. His arm lingers protectively across your front, his hand gripping your opposite hip, steadying and reminding you that you are safe now.

"Massster?!" The voices shriek. As you take in the full expanse of the room, you see the many glinting, beady, yellow eyes all along the walls. The creatures cower into their shadows at the sight of Morpheus. You think you might do the same until you feel the gentle, reassuring squeeze of his hand, the only thing holding you upright. 

"We thought you left forever." The monsters chorus, echoing the word over and over.

"You have taken advantage of my absence,” Morpheus says - almost snarls, tone dripping with revulsion. “It ends now." 

With the wave of his free hand, the creatures shrivel, crumbling to dust on the floor until you’re left in the now vacant, dusty room.   Johanna leans against the wall a few feet away, looking almost as shaken as you, teeth gritted, fists clenched and trembling at her sides. 

"You disobeyed me." Your eyes flick up to meet his stormy gaze, blood still pumping loudly in your ears as you throw a weak glare his way. 

“You-” You’re still out of breath, each word a strain to your aching ribs. “You were in-” Your head shakes. “You were in here a while. What-” You force down a deep breath. “What was I supposed to do?”

"Wait. As you were told." You gawk at him incredulously, taking the time to catch your breath. ‘Wait as you were told.’ You’d strangle him if he hadn’t just saved you. You’re not a helpless child. Were you not the one saving his ass no less than three weeks ago, freeing him from nearly a hundred years of captivity? Could he truly fault you for trying to help him again?

“I was trying to help you.” Your voice is hoarse, throat sore as you attempt to defend your actions. “I thought you were in danger.” 

"I do not need saving from a mortal." 

Despite the ache, you square your throbbing shoulders, head held high as you quip back, “You did less than a month ago.”

His mouth folds into a firm line as he breaks your stare-off, sharp profile lit by the moonlight now peaking through the window, eyes darkening into ink-black, cosmic pools.

"Right, can we save the bickering for later?” Johanna intervenes, slicing through the tension. “I'd like to get the hell out of here." 

Rain pours around the stone awning of the building as you limp behind Morpheus and Johanna, nearly drowning out the sound of Matthew’s relieved caws. He swoops up to mount your shoulder chastising, “I told you not to go in there!” His talons dig into your skin for balance as you whip your head to scowl at him. Skittish, he jumps away, hopping after Morpheus. “Boss, I-”

Morpheus gives him a stern look, silencing the raven. His lips purse, brows knitting as he pulls a dark, leather pouch - no larger than the size of his palm - from his coat pocket. The sand. Golden beads glimmer along the strings as he tugs open the pouch, tilting it into his open hand. 

He got what he came here for, and now he’ll leave. He’ll leave you and Johanna behind after all that happened inside that wretched apartment complex, the waking nightmare you’d faced to save him. 

“Morpheus!” You snap, watching in disbelief as grains of sand slip through the gaps of his slender fingers, spinning into a sandstorm around him. He pauses, eyes flicking toward you.

“Where are you going?!” 

“Hell. In search of my helm.” 

In a blink, he’s encased in a swirling tornado of sand, and then…he’s gone. Matthew spirits away in your peripheral vision, a brief fluttering shadow and flap of wings as he follows after his master. You loose a frustrated breath and lean on the opposite wall from Johanna. Whether or not she’s still as shaken as she appeared - as you are - you’ll never know, her face now a mask of perfect calmness. You look to her for any semblance of validation for your discontentment, but she merely shrugs her shoulders.

“I’ll say this once,” She starts. “Only because I consider you a friend.” Her words are steady, not an ounce of residual fear behind them as she warns, “Don’t go after him again. It’ll only get you killed.”

[sk8termikey]

Chapter 3 of 21 Questions

(better interface on wattpad)

Matt had just been chilling in his room when he heard his phone. His brothers – triplets actually – and he were spending the evening alone on their own as they had spent the whole day together filming for their YouTube channel. It had only been two years and a half since they started making content but they were already quite popular on social media. As Matt thought it was either Chris or Nick asking him to drive them somewhere – Matt was the only one among them with a driver’s licence, he took his phone, mentally preparing himself to get dressed and leave the comfort of his bed.

With an obvious surprise on his face, Matt unlocked his phone and saw that it was actually an unknown number that had texted him.

**********

Heyy stranger, wanna play 21 questions? :)

Matt was confused because he wasn’t used to receiving actual texts from random people, except for an occasional wrong number which he would never respond to. As he thought about how he didn’t have anything to do at the moment, why not play.

And so, as Matt replied to the stranger, he learnt that the girl on the other side of a screen was almost the female version of his brother Nick: she loved autumn and had a nose ring – ok it’s not much but this was enough to compare the two. The conversation was nicely flowing between the two teenagers until Matt ended up being called by his youngest brother as Chris was in need of McDonald’s at ten o’clock. Therefore, he had to quickly find a way to leave the girl he was talking to on his phone and took the opportunity of discovering that she was a cat person to funnily exit the discussion, hoping not to appear rude to her – well he was a bit, mystery girl and her best friend had judged him a lot.

~~~

During the next couple of days, Matt actually forgot about the girl who had texted him on a random evening. To be fair, his brothers and he had been busy filming – they had come back from tour last month and settled back into their usual routine. This was the reason why Matt hadn’t responded to the girl. Of course, he wasn’t feeling guilty as they weren’t even friends – yet – but when he saw on the Messages application that he had unread texts from her, Matt remembered that he actually had a good time talking to the mysterious girl; and the fact that his day was sort of over – over in the sense that Chris already ate and thus wouldn't be interrupting Matt again – pushed the middle triplet to get back to know the cat person who he had suddenly abandoned. Now opening their conversation, Matt finally read the last messages from a few days ago.

**********

I’m not apologising tbh

Bc i love my cat with my whole heart

He’s the best

I hope you were joking bc our convo was fun

Anyways, bye then-

Hi stranger, our convo from yesterday was really nice so I hope you might still wanna play even tho  I'm a cat person and you're a dog person but yk what they say: opposites attract :)

Matt had not expected her to re-engage the conversation the day following their first one but he hoped that it was not too late to come back to her.

*********

Good evening stranger, ig I’m a bit late to the party

Been a few busy days lately but if you’re still down it could be fun to continue our game

(dw ab the cat thing, it was maybe too much from me)

While Matt was waiting for the girl to reply – how long it would take, he had no idea as she could be living on the other side of the world and currently sleeping, he tried to make an effort of thinking about a couple of questions he could ask. Matt wanted to keep things engaging, even though they were just getting to know each other. In any case, it was either Saturday or Sunday for his chatmate so he would probably get an answer before the week-end was over.

Matt actually only had time to brush his teeth and change into his pyjamas after a short shower when he heard his phone. Curiosity took over him as he quickly grabbed his phone and a light smile appeared on his face when he saw the positive reply from the girl.

*********

Good evening stranger, ig I’m a bit late to the party

Been a few busy days lately but if you’re still down it could be fun to continue our game

(dw ab the cat thing, it was maybe too much from me)

Hiii!

No worries, we each have our life so you had some right to be occupied w smth else

(i think i can forgive you for that, we’ll see later)

Matt felt relieved in the sense that talking so light-heartedly to someone completely unknown was calming in a way. From the little conversation they had had a few days ago, he already knew that this would be a safe place where he wouldn’t be judged – apart from liking dogs more than cats. He decided to immediately write back for he wanted to get to know the girl better.

**********

Glad we’re ok now

By rereading our last messages, I see that it should be your turn to ask a question so I’ll wait for it

Ok ok lemme think quickly

We’re gonna start back w smth simple i hope

What’s your go-to comfort food?

My stomach needs to take over for this question

I feel like it’s an easy one but I have multiple choices rn

It’s ok, give me a top 3 ig

So I’d say tacos, nuggets and pasta

(in no particular order)

I want YOUR top 3 now

Yepp ofc

Mine would be pizza, sushi and fries maybe

No particular order as well

Yours are absolutely valid

I fuck with pizza and fries but not sushi sorryy

If I were fucking petty I would leave the convo like you did

But I’m not, soo :))

That’s low

I deserve it tho

Self-aware king!

We need to find common ground tho

Like a question we FULLY agree on

So much pressure on me rn

This is a serious question (like every other one honestly) so you can only choose the right answer

Damn pressure on ME now

It’s technically a double question if you answer negatively to the 1st one

Do you play pokemon? Or have you played as a child?

OMG

HAND IN MARRIAGE NOW

WHAT

WHY

(DO I NEED TO SCREAM TOO?)

BRO

I LOVE POKEMON

(AND YEAH WE SCREAMING RN)

REALLY???

YEAH OFC

MY ENTIRE CHILDHOOD

Even nowadays i still play sometimes

Wow

I wasn’t expecting that

I mean I was hoping

But it’s really nice to know that you do

Which ones do you like?

My faves are probably X and sapphire alpha

Honestly just the ones on DS bc they slay

Like

I don’t have the nintendo switch so I stopped buying the latest games

But i like to come back to them sometimes

And i also played a couple on game boy color as well

Ok ok good to know

I’m more of a pokemon go guy tbh

Like when I’m driving I have this thing that catches pokemon for me

That is so cool!!

I’ve never really been keen on pokemon go

But the whole universe in general has always looked amazing to me

Yeah I totally agree

See

This is common ground

Yayy you’re right :))

I thought of a next question but you don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable

Go ahead dw I’ll tell you if I am :)

What’s your name?

I can even tell you mine first if you prefer

I just don’t wanna keep calling you the random guy I texted

And maybe putting a contact name would be nice😅

Matt unconsciously started typing his name when he paused to think about it: this was a stranger – a nice one though, there was no way she would find out who he was just from the information he had given her. How many Matts out there in the world have brothers, love pokemon and dogs? Quite a lot he hoped. This is fine, what are the odds? – turns out that the odds were actually pretty fucking huge from the beginning but let’s not spoil it and just keep the foreshadowing light.

**********

My name’s Matt

I don’t mind giving it out, it’s fine

Not like you asked for my fucking address lol

Bro I would never- this would be so messed up

I’m Lily btw

Nice to meet you Matt

Nice to meet you too Lily

As Matt and Lily were both finally able to change the contact name of the other, their faces were illuminated with genuine smiles due to the bond they were creating. And although it was simply the beginning of a blooming friendship, the door to a new chapter of their lives was about to open.

Thank you for reading. Votes and comments are always appreciated if you like this story :) The story is co-written w @/little_grapejuice on wattpad

[iblameashley]

König first-date rewrite

back to the fluff-fun with König and my OC. 2,210 words Decided to go back and re-write my original first-date idea for König found here. Expanding on the original idea and making a few changes. I tried to give König a little more depth this time around.

Content: Nothing really. Kissing.

Only Gay stuff below.

As Alex sat at the coffee shop, nervously tapping his fingers on the table, he couldn't help but reflect on how he and König had first crossed paths. It all started with Alex's persistent staring, unable to take his eyes off the handsome giant across the room. After several days of Alex's attempt at furtive glances, König had finally approached Alex. He slid a small note across the table, gave Alex a glance and then walked off.

Alex's heart skipped a beat as he read the message: "Staring is rude. If you want to get to know me, here's my number." It was a bold move, if not a bit elementary school.

It wasn't until later that evening when Alex decided to give the number a go, and fired off a text. 'It's probably a fake number.' He told himself. But to his surprise, he had got a reply.

Alex's eyes lit up when he spotted König walking through the door. But to his amusement and slight annoyance, König was still wearing his black face mask. Alex couldn't help but chuckle, finding it endearing yet teasingly exasperating.

"König, you're still wearing that mask?" Alex remarked with a playful smile as König approached the table. "Are you trying to hide your handsome face from me?" König's cheeks reddened behind the mask, a mixture of embarrassment and amusement evident in his eyes. "I-I guess old habits die hard," he stammered, fidgeting with the mask's straps. He was worried about taking it off, though. He didn't want to scare Alex.

After a pleasant conversation at the coffee shop, Alex and König embarked on the next part of their date. König had chosen a local pub that he and his 141 comrades frequented after missions. It had a cozy ambiance, and König thought it would be the perfect place to share a drink and continue getting to know each other. It also helped that they served German beer. As they settled into their seats, Alex's curiosity got the better of him. He couldn't help but inquire once more about König's mask, realizing that it would hinder his ability to eat. "König, how do you plan on eating with the mask on?" Alex asked, a grin on his face.

König's expression grew slightly pensive as he considered the question. "I'll eat later," he replied, his voice tinged with nervousness. "Honestly, Alex, I'm just really afraid of taking off the mask right now. I want you to like me first, without any judgments based on my appearance."

"König, we've talked for three days, exchanged countless messages, and agreed to this date," he said, his voice filled with sincerity. "I already like you. I'm interested in the person behind the mask, not just your outward appearance." Though truth be told, he was very much attracted to König's body.

König's eyes met Alex's, searching for reassurance. He hesitated for a moment before confessing his fear, almost reluctantly. "I'm worried you'll find me ugly because of my face scars," he admitted, his vulnerability shining through.

“I knew you were... are military.” Alex began. “I always knew there was a chance you'd have scars or a prosthetic leg or something.” This was never going to be an issue for me. Alex took a deep breath, "König, I'm not here to judge you. But if it matters that much to you, I won't ask about the mask again, and you can keep it on if it makes you more comfortable."

The weight of König's decision hung in the air, a mix of confusion and stress visible on his brow. After a few moments of struggle, he took a breath and made up his mind. With a determined expression, he reached up and slowly removed the mask, revealing his face to Alex.

Alex's eyes scanned König's face. The one that ran from his temple to his jaw, the one on his lower lips, the small piece missing from his nostril, and the burn on the other side of his face. Regardless of the scars, König's strong bu slim jaw, soft pink lips and bright blue eyes made him incredibly attractive. “You're beautiful.” Alex whispered.

König shifted, uneasy in his seat at the compliment. It was a lot to take in. No one had ever called him beautiful, but he couldn't deny the sincerity in Alex's words. “Danke.” He finally said, a small smile creeping at the edges of his mouth.

“So, tell me about yourself, König.” Alex asked.

König, kept his gaze fixed downward, unable to meet Alex's eyes. He can feel his heart racing, the weight of his insecurities pressing upon him. He becomes a fountain of words, enthusiastically sharing his passion for photography. He describes his ongoing projects, from capturing the vibrant landscapes of Austria to the rugged beauty of the German countryside. König's eyes light up as he talks about the moments he has captured through his camera lens. Alex simply smiles warmly and continues eating his food.

Next, König shares his love for hiking, recounting his adventures in the picturesque mountains of Austria, Germany, and even his time stationed in England. “Ya, photography fills mein heart with joy. Every click of ze camera, it's like freezing a moment in time forever.” He remarked before vividly describes the breathtaking vistas, and the joy of being immersed in nature.

As the conversation continues, König's enthusiasm spills over into his misadventures of cooking. He passionately discusses his favourite Austrian and German dishes, the aromatic flavors, and the art of blending ingredients to create culinary masterpieces. The fires he started on the base.

Ah, well, there was dis one time in the kitchen at the 141 base... I may have gotten a bit too adventurous with mein cooking skills und accidentally set the whole place on fire.” He took a swig of beer. A”ch, it was quite the chaos! But hey, we all learned that day that I'm better at hikin' und photography, ja? He laughed awkwardly as he recounted the tale.

Alex was enjoying the fact that the mixture of anxiety and the third beer were revealing themselves in the form of his accent slipping through. König's hand waving in the air he talked. To König's surprise, Alex listens attentively, occasionally interjecting with questions about his experiences; “where do you shop for the ingredients, they cant be easy to find,” He asked, or requesting recommendations for traditional Austrian and German meals; “What are some easy recipes to start with?” he probed. König felt a sense of validation, realizing that Alex was genuinely interested.

Amidst their conversation, König mentions his sewing skills, proudly stating that he even crafted his own face mask. He explains the intricate process of sewing and designing the mask he had been wearing earlier, showcasing his attention to detail and creativity. “And look!” König exclaimed, pulling the mask from his pocket. 'It even has a space for a filter, so it filters germs.” He beamed with pride.

“Very nice!” Alex replied, looking the mask over. “Its very well done.”

“Danke!” König said.

Alex was surprised König's large hands could sew with such detail.

Eventually, König realizes how much he has been talking, “Ich bin so unhöflich. I'm so sorry Alex, I have been talking non-stop.” He says looking down at the table.

Alex finished the bite of food he had in his mouth and shrugged. “I really don't mind.” He reassured. “I enjoy listening you talk about the things you like.”

After dinner, Alex and König sat back in their chairs, satisfied and full, though König's food was mostly cold by the time he got to it. The bill arrived and a playful debate began about who should pay.

Alex insists, "König, I appreciate your gesture, but let me take care of the bill."

König leans forward, a determined look on his face. "Nein, I asked you out, so it's my treat, ja?"

“That's very kind of you, but how about a compromise? I'll pay for my portion? Or the drinks?”

König takes a moment to contemplate the offer before shaking his head in disagreement. “Nein. This dinner is on me. You can pay for the next dinner, ja? Is that acceptable?”

“Already planning the second date, König?” Alex was grinning like an idiot at the tease. Of course there was going to be a second date. König was a catch, and there was no way in Hell Alex was going to release him back into the wild.

“I- I...” König stuttered, flush with embarrassment. “If you-”

Alex raised a hand to cut him off. “I was just joking, handsome. I'd be happy to pay on our next date.”

König nodded, "Good. It's a deal, then.”

They decided to take a walk in the nearby park to walk off the food and beer, and König discreetly put his mask back on as they left. “I'm sorry Alex,” He mumbled. “I only took this off to eat, I'm uncomfortable in public without it.”

“You don't have to apologize to me, König.” He gave König a playful tap on the arm.

As they walked, Alex struggled a bit to keep up with König's stride. Noticing that the man was starting to tense back up again. It was odd as the park was mostly empty, only a few stragglers and some ducks in the nearby pond.

"König, I can tell something is on your mind. Is there something I've done to upset you?" Alex asked.

“Was?!” König was taken by surprise. “No! Not at all!” He stopped in his tracks. His mind was racing. He did have something on his mind, it had slowly crept up on him over the course of the date. It always felt like he had to climb over walls to make connections with people, and this was a connection he felt certain was important.

“There is a secret I have been keeping from you,” He finally admitted. “Its personal, and embarrassing... and” He trailed off.

“...And...?” Alex inquired.

König, feeling vulnerable, truly vulnerable for the first time, took a deep breath. The tension clear in his brow and voice as he opened up to Alex.

“This is actually the first time I have been on a date with a man. Ja. I -” He was stumbling with his words as his thoughts started to spiral out of control. “I mean, I have been with other men. I've had sex with other men, but I have never dated another... man.” He rubbed his eyes with a hand, “How many more times can I say 'man' in this conversation?”

Alex listened attentively to König, giving him the time he needed to process his thoughts and put his words in order.

“I am worried this would be a deal-breaker for you.” König finally continued. “Between my face and my lack of experience with dating, most people give me the...” He thought on it. “Ein Affentheater aufführen. To sing and dance?”

“Ah!” Alex replied, the light bulb going off “They gave you a song and dance about your inexperience.”

“Ja. Yes, exactly.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” Alex asked.

König nodded.

“I haven't dated in well over five years. I wouldn't say I have much experience either.” He gave a half-hearted smile. “Besides, I think you are a handsome, sweet mean, and I want to spend more time with you. So like it or not, you're stuck with me.” He joked.

“I'd like that.”

König lead Alex over to a quieter part of the Park, a little more secluded as well. In any other situation, Alex might have felt uneasy or suspicious of this, but König had a disarming effect. 'Well, if he's a serial killer, it won't matter much in a few minutes anyway' Alex jokingly thought to himself.

"Alex, I have to be honest with you. I... I want to kiss you. If that's okay with you." he confessed.

"König, I would love to kiss you too. Asking for permission was sweet, but I've been wanting you to kiss me since the moment we met. In person... not when I was staring incredibly disrespectfully at you in the cafe."

König gave a hearty laugh at Alex's admission, and with a mixture of relief and joy, he removed his mask once more. Despite their noticeable height difference, with König towering over Alex, they close the physical distance between them. Their lips meet in a sweet, lingering kiss. His mouth lingered on Alex's to the point Alex had forgot to breathe. As He pulled away, Alex took a gasp of air.

König's face was bright red as he stood back up and put his mask back on. “Was I good?” He asked shyly.

“Took my breath away.” Alex chuckled. You reached up and re-adjusted his mask a little. “Look forward to you doing it again, handsome.”

König's heart soared with an exhilarating mix of joy and relief, realizing the significance of his personal milestone. A warm, giddy feeling enveloped him, as he delighted in his first kiss with a man. It meant so much more than his one-night stands with men in his company. There was potential here, and he wasn't going to squander it.

[transsextual]

absolutely no obligation to answer this at all but i saw your post abt yr hysterectomy and i was wondering if you are receiving that procedure as gender affirming care or something else ? i just have been trying to look into how to go about something like that and if it’s a gac thing i’d love to hear more about yr process ! regardless i hope the procedure goes well & am sending you good thoughts

hello!!! yes, it is considered gender affirming care. i'm getting my procedure done thru kaiser permanente, and i'm from CA. i'm also a little over a year on testosterone, and in order to start testosterone i had to get a diagnosis for gender dysphoria from a kaiser affiliated therapist (done in one 45 minute session (with a trans therapist!)). given that i already had that diagnosis, i can't say for sure that you'd need one within kaiser to be approved for a hysterectomy as GAC, but i'd imagine you probably would. my process was long & inconsistent because it consisted of mostly phone calls + appointments + reading&signing contracts, all things that almost physically pain me, but here's what it has looked like thus far:

- talked to my primary doctor about a referral to the center for reproductive health for fertility preservation + hysterectomy as gender affirming care

- she gave me a referral to the kaiser offices in the bay area, since that's where most of northern CA's gender affirming surgeries + procedures happen

- got a call from an RN to schedule an appointment with a fertility preservation specialist + a gynecologist

- gynecologist appt was first, she gave me the rundown on types of hysterectomies & told me i had the option for fertility preservation and that, because i live in CA and have non-MediCare insurance, i have partial coverage for fertility preservation services in a situation where i'm undergoing an operation that could lead to infertility.*

*we have a bill here, SB600, that basically illustrates that if you are undergoing a medical procedure that could result in infertility (like a hysterectomy or hormone replacement therapy) AND your insurance is something other than MediCal, fertility preservation care is at least partially covered by your insurance, and is treated as medically necessitated basic care.

- i said yes, I'm in the process of taking care of fertility preservation stuff & that is really valuable information to me, thank you!

- she referred me to a therapist to discuss different hysterectomy procedures + recovery time + resources for care, as well as a surgeon to have a consultation with

- few weeks after that was my appointment with the fertility preservation specialist, and we discussed how egg freezing works, what my options were in terms of continuing/stopping testosterone for a while*, and established a loose timeline we wanted to follow. she also ordered some labs (blood drawings) for me.

*the most research about egg freezing has been done on menstruating people, so while it's an option to stay on testosterone during the process, i opted to go off of it just because there are less unknown variables there, which comforts me

- met with surgeon for consultation, she read the notes my fertility preservation doc had taken, asked me some basic medical questions (re: drug use, sexual activity, etc), and we settled on a tentative date for my surgery

- had a mostly useless therapy(?) session to discuss hysterectomy recovery, settled on the operation i wanted, took notes about recovery time, etc, but most of my questions had already been answered by my surgeon + fertility preservation specialist.

- that brings us to about now. i haven't had any other appointments, but my current to do list consists of:

getting those labs done for fertility preservation

signing contracts about health+safety info, legal info, and other services related to fertility preservation

getting my birth control removed

right now, i'm aiming to have my birth control out by the middle of the month (June), egg retrieval complete by early July, and my hysterectomy is scheduled for the end of July. fertility preservation has been and will be by far the most annoying part of the process for a number of reasons, but if you're just looking into a hysterectomy it should be much more straightforward.

[thesweetnessofspring]

Hi there lovely person. Happy Sunday 💜

I was re-reading THG and I had a question about sponsors: how do you think they work exactly? We have Effie tell Katniss and Peeta about Haymitch: “You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts”. So does this mean that Haymitch gets to decide what is bought with the money they get from sponsors or that he decides who gets the gifts? I’m always confused by this. We know that prior to the rule change, Katniss was getting sponsors and that Peeta got nothing. So was Katniss really the only one getting sponsors or perhaps they were both getting money for gifts but Haymitch used all of it for Katniss? This makes sense to me because he had chosen her. But why would Haymitch have to choose someone if sponsors determined who got the gifts? He could just tell them: “I will coach you both, but sponsors pick whoever gets the gift, so don’t take it personally if you don’t get anything, it’s just how these things work”. Also, I remember Katniss said that the best looking tributes always got the most sponsors, and it’s only logical that if you are going to invest money on a competition, you get to decide who gets it. But what confuses me is that Effie said that Haymitch would dictate the presentation of any gift and that he confirmed he had indeed chosen Katniss in CF.

Moreover, I think that it is more complicated for District 12 since Haymitch was the only mentor. In other districts, probably each tribute has their own mentor which makes things less complicated as far as sponsors go.

Or did it mean that he would only try to line up sponsors for the person that he chose? So in this case, he chose Katniss so he lined up and/or worked hard to get sponsors for her only. I know that we don’t get much information about this in the books, but I would love to read your thoughts about this topic. Thank you 🫶

Hi nonny! You've brought up some interesting questions and something I've wondered about myself.

In TBOSAS, sponsors gave money alone and the mentor decided when and what to send their tributes. However, that was the 10th Games and while a lot was developed in those Games, they're clearly still the Games in embryo form.

My guess is that by the time the Games are settled in their patterns, sponsors are somewhat similar to giving to charity. Some people will donate specific items or pledge money for a specific purpose. Others give an amount and leave their money to the charity to do what they need with it. So I imagine that Finnick had a sponsor (or a few) who gave enough money to get him a trident specifically, but Katniss had sponsors give cash and Haymitch decided who got it.

As for Katniss and Peeta, they were a special circumstance. From the start with the opening ceremonies, they were presented as a team. That builds and builds until Peeta shares that he likes Katniss and they become the star-crossed lovers. I think that Haymitch from the get-go sold them as a team. Donating to one was donating to both.

Also, the reason Haymitch in particular seems to have "chosen" Katniss by getting her gifts while he didn't get any to Peeta was because he was selling up Katniss more. He could have gotten Peeta sponsors, but focused on Katniss instead. I think you're right that most other districts had at least two other victors (we know from CF that each district had a male and female tribute each at least). Haymitch was on his own, though, and that might have led him to be stretched out and also have to make decisions about who he chose to focus on each year.

Thanks for the ask!

[caphayzardous]

things r fine just debriefing a short convo into a huge poste

caved and asked one of my damage-informed (and also reasonable-inquiry) questions through text. you can't imagine how much I don't like to take serious topics into text format, hate Getting Weird Over Text, but a) this qn always feels so unimportant in-person, yet haunts me semi-regularly when I'm alone. had told myself several times I'd just get it out of the way IRL only to be like 'psh, nah'. and b) due to recent propensity for crying - and also non-recent perpetuity of crying at ANY serious moment - I felt that just this once text was safer than IRL for keeping things sensible.

it went fine (I say that now, we'll see if my lover is actually waiting to follow it up with an honourable in-person "Call It Off Because You Were Weird", but I don't THINK that's it). I somehow got an answer very very close to the Fear Outcome but in a way that I feel okay about?

Basically confirmed what I already know. this is all re: some near-arbitrary semantics of the relationship, basically that we are dating (sike did you all think I officially worked that out before valentines, like I said I would? I did not. but I did become more confident in that truth, before this recent upset. it is a relief to have this confirmed actually tho) BUT we are not 'partners'/in a serious relationship.

if that sounds weird to you. well yeah. this is what I mean by arbitrary semantics and nebulous areas. "we are lovers and we are friends and we've been going on dates for 6 months but it's not...?" anyway, however bizarre that sounds, it feels good to me and is about what I expected and wanted.

even though: its close to what I feared, too, separated only by the nature and details of the conversation. honestly I think it just makes a difference to me to hear "lover" "friend" "date" rather than cut-and-dry "friends with benefits" though try explaining the actual difference there?? it Feels different. to me at least lmfao, there may be less distinction to her, but by god she has the tact not to say so. I think it just affirms that my soft little feelings, are okay as they are. are not entirely misplaced, even though they wont go any further. I did not have illusions about her feelings but mine are still being looked after, yeah.

think also this whole thing just feels different to... you know... the past situation that recently re-haunts me (do you know that came to a crux about this time of year as well...? and with the impending end of things, I became so scared that it would all twist up the same way). probably the fact that things are being communicated at all makes a world of difference dont you think adchsbsj!!! like it may be late in the game to re-affirm these details, but it's happening at a decent and safer moment. in that past exp, the relationship exploded in a bad way and SIMULTANEOUSLY I found out that we were not even dating... according to them. so you can see why I might be hung up what counts as dating or not.

Im not asking for love, I just wanted to know Im not being made a complete fool of (again).

talking about this always feels like Im going to get y'all saying 'oh, bri...' because I Know how it reads still (yes I am a fool all round).

I will keep an eye on myself. In that same past exp I made the mistake of convincing myself I was ok with certain things like this, only to subsequently have really volatile and opposite feelings about it. sometimes I can tamp down distress with the cool detachment of logic but ofc that bitch comes back UP, you know? so I will keep an eye on myself here to see if I'm ACTUALLY still good with this situation as it stands, or if I'm just Trying to be good with it.

a lot of blog post to say: things are alright. my chest has been aching the last few days since it got into my head that there are parallels with the past. but it finally stopped hurting, and my heartrate finally settled, after speaking with them about it - I feel soft and safe again. so I think it's safe to say it's a good outcome. I feel I can separate it from the past again.

hope we can still stick the landing and get the 'good ending' when she leaves aus and we stay friends after hehe. I believe!! I believe!! I dont want this damage to take that ending from me!

might delete this'n its a mess but wanted to get it out thx if u read lmfao

[bwela07]

Octonauts - A new Generation

Chapter 3

Stella’s temporary guardian

Tweak’s pov

All of the little ones have settled down in their room now. The Octonauts had spent the rest of the morning giving them a tour of the Octopod. Tweak proudly showed them all the new upgrades and extra rooms that have been added. Now the kids are unpacking their bags in the rooms she had added for the junior Octo-agents while they’re in training. Now she’s standing in the HQ with the Octonauts, discussing how the rest of the day should go. Peso was going on and on about important medical conditions of some of the kids, making sure Tunip pays close attention to all of the food allergies he’s mentioning. Tweak takes a peak out of the window into the wide, open ocean. The rest of the crew all have close relationships with at least one of the kids. Even Kwazii, who isn’t related to any of them, has formed a close relationship with Pinto. Tweak is the only one that doesn’t. Knowing that, she misses her home and her father even more.

“…Shellington with Periwinkle, Tweak with Stella and Kwazii and I will be with the twins. Understood?”, the captain’s naturally loud voice cuts through Tweak’s thoughts when her name is said. Everyone each says their form of agreement before going wherever it is they’re going. Not really knowing what to do, Tweak decides to go find Stella.

Arriving in the girls’ room, Tweak finds Dashi already helping out Koshi. “Do you need any help Stella?”, she asks. The fox lifts her head and looks her straight into her eyes. After a moment of her staring at Tweak, she finally replies: “Kind of. I need help re-folding my clothes.” Tweak walks over to her, kneels down and begins folding her clothes and putting them in her assigned wardrobe, a great silence upon the two of them. From the left side, Dashi and Koshi can be heard talking about mystery books. From the right side, Ursa can be heard telling the captain about everything she’s been up to in the North Pole. I should probably try and start a conversation with her. I’ll be her temporary guardian for a while after all.

“So what do ya like to do in your free time?”, the bunny asks. “Reading, writing, studying, helping my uncle with his work, watching the fresh snow fall, watching the sun set…”, Stella starts rambling on about the beautiful sights in the arctic. Wow, she seems really passionate about her home, Tweak thinks to herself. She can’t really blame her. There is no other place quite like home. After some small chat, Tweak starts noticing how Stella shoots a few glances at her every now and then. “Is there somethin’ wrong?”, she asks, “You have been givin’ me weird looks for a while now.” “I-It’s nothing. I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. It’s just that…I have never seen a green rabbit before”, Stella tries to explain. It takes a while for Tweak to process what the fox just said. No one else has ever questioned her strange colour before. Maybe they just didn’t want to be rude. This fox one the other hand, can’t hide her curiosity. Tweak grins at that thought. “Yeah, it’s an unusual colour indeed”, she says with a smile. She looks over to Stella, who seems to be shocked by her answer. This just made Tweak smile wider. She put away the last piece of clothing before getting up and ruffling the pup’s hair. Stella shrieks in response. Tweak is starting to like this pup already.

With Tweak’s suggestion in mind, the two girls make their way to the game pod. Only to find Kwazii and Orson already there, playing ping pong. “Maybe we could do something else”, Stella suggests, “We should get to know each other more anyway.” “Good idea”, Tweak says, trying to think of where they should go. Maybe I should take her to the launch bay. I could show her how to play my video games and then we could talk while playing, Tweak thinks to herself. Leading the way, Tweak shows Stella where her room is. “How come all the others get a proper room, while you have this open space in the launch bay?”, is naturally Stella’s first question. “Don’t get your ears in a twist. I want my room to be here. Wouldn’t have it any other way”, with that, Tweak takes a bite into a carrot that she pulled out of nowhere. The pup tilts her head in confusion as she lets Tweak’s words sink in. “Okay…”, she finally answers, her voice portraying confusion and concern. “C’mon, let me show ya how to play”, she said, making hand gestures towards her gaming console.

An hour of more small talk, gaming and solving riddles later, Tunip comes in to let the two know that lunch is ready. Tweak gets up from the bed, looking back to see if Stella’s following her. Instead, she sees the girl’s head tilting once again, as she observes Tunip. “Did I say something wrong?”, Tunip chirps confused. That’s when Tweak realized that, other than the Octonauts, no one else knew much about the Vegimals. Looking at the curiosity portrayed on Stella's face, Tweak starts laughing. “This here is Tunip. He’s what Shellington calls a Vegimal. He and his crew are the ones in charge of cookin’ our meals. He may not necessarily speak out language, but he can still understand us”, Tweak explains. Tunip chirps happily while waving at Stella. Stella returns the gesture. “C’mon, let’s go see what the Vegimals have cooked for us today”, Tweak says while heading towards an Octo-shoot.

Tweak observed Stella throughout the whole meal. Stella, just like Periwinkle, never spoke unless spoken to. They both gave awkward and shy vibes. It’s obvious to everyone that they aren’t the best at socializing. Tweak has learned quite a lot about Stella and has gotten quite fond of her. She now worries that Stella won’t be able to make friends her age at this rate.

After dessert, the kids are told to get to know each other more. Orson, Ursa, Squirt, Koshi and Pinto enthusiastically go down an Octo-shoot, leaving Periwinkle and Stella behind. “Go on Peri, it’ll do you good to make friends your age”, Shellington said, trying to motivate the young sea otter. Tweak opens her mouth in an effort to speak, before getting interrupted by the captain: “You should do the same Stella. It will certainly calm your uncle’s nerves to hear that you have made some friends. That is one of the reasons why your uncle brought you here, isn’t it?” The captain’s voice is much more softer than it usually is. It sounds soothing, calming and reassuring. It’s not often that Tweak has the opportunity to hear his voice like that. Stella sighs and joins Periwinkle on their quest to make new friends. Tweak can only hope that all goes well for them.

Other chapters

[youmustbestrongernow]

Hey, not a question, just a quick reminder that your writing is absolutely amazing and it is currently keeping me company most nights when my insomnia prevents me from getting much sleep - I've said it before and I will say again, no matter what you write or who you write about, I will always appreciate reading it and enjoy your storytelling.

Like, I've talked about your druck fics to my roommate several times this week because I'm re-reading one of them, and she doesn't even know the show. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that you are freaking talented and your writing matters to people! I also hoped you had a good new years and are doing well in general!! Alright, I'll stop now, thanks for coming to my Ted Talk that is: Theo writes in a way that makes me feel less lonely in the loneliest hours of the night and I am grateful for that

All the best! xx

Ok so last night I couldn't sleep at all, my insomnia has been pretty bad too lately. Then i got this message and I went to bed with a smile on my face, it was so touching.

Just the idea that my writing has brought you comfort, I mean that’s really why I shared so much in the first place.

For a little while there I lost... not my passion but my I guess motivation/drive for writing, and I really really missed the comfort it provided me, it felt like such a loss. It’s only really toward the end of last year when my spark came back, everything felt ok and settled again.

But I am writing again now, and like yeah it's not as intense and quick as it was when I was writing druck, but actually that's probably a good thing, I think I burnt myself out there. Now I'm working on something I originally wrote years ago, when I was figuring myself out and everything felt hopeless and difficult. And now things are still difficult but now I have hope and I guess more life experience so the whole tone of the story has changed, and it’s really fun to work on. It’s great fun to kind of work through things, with the fun of a fantasy setting. Butt his is something I originally wrote and filed away, with no plans on sharing, I have a whole host of slightly messy stories on my hard drive like that. But I don’t know, I like the idea of putting it out there (somehow) and hopefully easing a few people’s loneliness

That’s so wild that you talk about my fics with your roommate! But sometimes it hits me like how many people my stories reached and touched, and like I’m not showing off or anything, I just never expected much from them when I started posting. Yeah they were super precious to me. And it was always so nice to get nice comments that they were being enjoyed, but it was the comments that they helped people, or that they resonated with others experiences, those are the ones that made me feel less alone.

The winter break was actually pretty rough and lonely for me, because I was pretty ill, but I’m doing much better now, and feeling so hopeful for this year. It’s going to be damn unsettled but in a good way, lots of good things to come.

Anyway all that just to say, I really really appreciate this message, it brought me a lot of joy on an otherwise uneventful and restless evening. I suffer terribly from loneliness at times, and while writing my little stories was a great comfort, sharing them and hearing that they helped other people was always both astounding and wonderful.

[writersblockedx]

Protector of the Party: Chapter 1

Chapter One: The Night Will Byers Disappeared 

PAIRING - Steve Harrington X Reader BASED OFF - 1X01 WARNINGS - Drug abuse, very small implication of sex  WORDS - 1.7K A/N - This is more of a prologue than a proper chapter as the others will be much longer. And also, welcome to my first re-write on Tumblr, I hope you enjoy reading :)

Read on AO3 / Wattpad Masterlist

On the night of Will Byers disappearance, Y/n Henderson, the local outcast of Hawkins High School, had been about to get arrested.

It must have been around eight before her peaceful tranquillity by Lovers Lake was interrupted. She had told her aunty Claudia that she meeting up with a few friends. A few friends that didn't, in fact, have names. Y/n did have friends. Well, she had people she knew and she had Johnathan Byers. But Johnathan certainly wasn't one for smoking.

Sat next to her at the lake, was a small tin box. It's lid flicked over to expose the packets of unlabelled herbs and a load of rolling papers. The setting was dark but the light from Hawkins reflected back onto the ripples in the water. For what had been an hour now, Y/n had been alone to it all.

She spotted the red and blue first.

The water she had been starring at was infected with the flashing lights that glowed back at her. Following it, the sirens that blared loud enough Y/n thought her ear drums might have popped.

There was only one cop car that pulled into the dirt space that was situated behind her. Y/n sighed as she flicked the half-smoked joint into the lake before pulled herself from the ground. The lights dimmed and the alarms finally stopped. Hopper got out of the car first. His expression was one Y/n would have imagined a father would send as to silently scold their child. An expression Hopper was used to wearing in the presence of the young girl.

"Got nothing better to be doing on a Sunday evening, Hopper?" She quirked as she threw her bag back over her shoulder.

"I have actually, got a nice date." He spoke as he slowed a few meters from the girl. "Which is why I'm going to take you home."

Y/n smiled a devious smile which made Hopper wish he had never said anything. "Oh, a date, what's her name this time?"

He huffed; he never should have said anything. "Sandra." Hopper walked over to the girl, gently trying to push her into the direction of the car. "Now let me go on that date after I drop you off home, huh, kid?"

The devious smile never dropped. "I didn't know the cops had enforced a curfew now?"

"No, but smoking cannabis in the state of North Carolina is illegal so I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Her smile dropped and they dead panned one another.

It was a stare off. Which may be childish, but as a police department which experienced little to no serious cases, Hopper stared back. "If I don't drop you off home, Callahan will just have to take you to the station. And, when I tell you these officers, they can barely work a 9-5 sitting on their asses all day. It's your pick."

Y/n broke first.

She huffed as she blinked, already beginning the wonder up to the cop car. "You know Claudia's going to kill me, right?" Y/n yelled back to him as he followed.

"Yeah, you said that last time." Hopper commented, more to himself than it were to Y/n.

Hopper jumped back into the drivers seat and Y/n into the back seat. "Can you just promise me you won't have the lights and sirens on? It'll scare Mews." She told the Chief as if he were one of her peers.

"For Mews? The hell is a Mews?" Hopper replied as he settled in the leather seat.

"A cat." Y/n answered as if her cat were local town knowledge. Which to be fair, with how much Claudia banged on about him, it probably was. "Idiot." She said under her breath.

Callahan glanced at her through the rear-view mirror. The girl stared back so piercingly that he broke eye contact all together with an awkward cough to fill the silence. "You alright?" Hopper questioned his co-worker as the car engine started again.

Callahan nodded through a stiff neck, "Yeah." He dared to glance back at her again. "Seatbelt." He instructed the girl through clenched teeth and infrequent case eye contact.

Y/n took a moment as her brows knitted but, nevertheless, she pulled the seatbelt across her body and clicked it into place. Then Hopper started reversing and headed down the empty roads towards the Henderson house.

At this time, everything was quiet. A Sunday evening meant catching up on homework due to the next morning, or salvaging what remained of the weekend snuggled up on a sofa watching reruns. When Y/n had left the house, Claudia was doing just that, with Mews sat in her lap purring - of which, Y/n doubted she had moved from. Dustin, her equally nerdy cousin, was at the Wheelers, finishing a 10 hour long campaign. But, by now, he should have returned home. Just in time to watch his cousin get dropped off in a cop car.

Hopper parked, and switched the engine off. The living room light still glowed. A small part of Y/n had hoped maybe Claudia had gone to bed by now. Truth was, she never got mad at Y/n for incidents like these, it was the disappointed glint that lingered in her eyes. And, usually, that glint was followed by a comment, something about how Y/n got her recklessness from her mother.

Still, the girl opened the car door. "See you soon, Hop." She forced a smile and exited the car and wondered towards the front door.

Hopper then too exited the car, leading for Y/n to speed up, thinking if she got to the front door first the man would somehow disappear too. "Please, this was not apart of the deal." She begged with her puppy dog eyes as the two stood on the porch.

Now, Hopper wore the devious smirk. "Just doing by job, kid." Y/n crossed her arms and shared an expression similar to a toddler in the midst of a temper tantrum.

Hopper knocked on the door and they both waited patiently as the voice from behind the wall came.

"Did she forget her keys again?" Yelled Dustin.

"Mews," Cooed Claudia, bypassing Dustin's question. "It's okay baby."

Then the door swung open and Claudia's expression fell. And there it was: that disappointed glint. Y/n swore it would haunt her forever if she weren't careful. "Sorry to disrupt you at this time Mrs Henderson, I'm just bringing Y/n home." Hopper grinned. A grin of which Y/n noted was the same one he used when trying to impress some of the women that walked into Station. The same one she was sure he'd use on Sandra later tonight.

Claudia sighed, "What'd she do this time?"

Hopper glanced down at her. Y/n didn't look back. "We suspected her of smoking cannabis." He informed. "But rather than taking her to the station at this time, we thought it best to bring her home."

To be fair, Y/n should be grateful to Hopper. Had it not be for him, she should currently be sat in some christen, youth, rehabilitation camp, learning about the consequences of drug use.  Alas, the man had avoided every law, taken every loophole and looked the other way for everything he could.

"Thank you, Hopper." Claudia gently dragged the girl back into the home. "I appreciate it."

"Keep an eye on this one." Y/n deadpanned the man as he still smirked. But, with that, he said his goodnights and left.

And before Claudia even started, Y/n was already throwing her hands up in surrender. "I know, I know, I'm very much irresponsible just like my mother." Y/n was taking her jacket off as she spoke, throwing it back to the floor where it would stay until she left (probably late) for school the next morning.

"I was just going to ask if you were okay." The women corrected.

The girl came to a halt before spinning on her heels to face her aunt. "Oh." That was the only thing to slip out from her mouth.

She tiled her head as she went on, "Grab some food as well, me and Dusty already ate." And with that she went back to her seat on the couch and cooed Mews back to her lap.

A delightful surprise.

Y/n wondered her way into the kitchen where Dustin was leant against one of the counters. He had been previously searching for a drink after his cycle home from Mike's. But Chief Jim Hopper returning his cousin home certainly provided a kind of entertainment his science project couldn't.

The girl reached around the cupboards, finding two slices of bread for herself. She popped them into the toaster and leaned against the counter, Dustin still lurking. "What's up with you?" The girl questioned with knitted brows and crossed arms.

Dustin stumbled and shrugged. "Nothing..." There was definitely something. The longer Y/n stared the more likely Dustin became to break. And he did. He broke every time. "It's just, on the way home, me and Will made a bet."

Her brows raised, "A bet?"

"You know, as kids do." He spoke as if he were a full blown adult. "And in that moment I made a stupid, stupid decision." This conversation was beginning to sound all to familiar for Y/n.

"The hell did you bet on Dustin."

"It was just...you know..."

"Dustin."

"Your X-men 134!"

The toaster popped.

"Are you shitting me!" Y/n snapped at her younger cousin whose face was beginning to grow head.

And from the comforts of the living room, there came a loud, "Language!"

Y/n huffed and shook her head, turning to tend to her dinner. "You know Will's not taking it." She said as she took a knife that made Dustin somewhat nervous.

"It was a bet, I have no choice." Dustin attempt to defend.

The older girl scoffed, "I don't care, Dustin. You need to say sorry to Will and explain that you betted on something this isn't even yours." Y/n turned, plate in hand that emitted the scent of fresh toast and cold, strawberry jam. "Give him your talking iron man action figure instead."

With that, the girl finally escaped into her room for the night. In that moment, she couldn't have thought anyone else could have had a worse night than hers.

[enhas-bestie]

Idol Crush! [17]

► SEVENTEEN: the offer (takes place shortly after chapter 16)

1.3k words

The next morning, Jungwon finds himself sprawled across one of the couches in the dorms.

With his eyes barely open and his hair still slightly damp from his shower, he finds himself scrolling through his messaging app out of boredom. For some reason, his thumb lingers over your contact name, but he shakes his head and decides against messaging you.

The thing was, he didn't want to come across as clingy or anything. After all, he had spent time with you just yesterday during the IDOLZZZ variety show...Maybe sending you a good morning messages would be a bit much.

Did friends even send each other good morning messages? It's not like he knew. To be honest, he couldn't even recall himself wanting to send "good morning" messages to anybody first thing after he woke up.

Not to mention, you probably weren't even awake this early in the morning, so truly, there was no point in sending you anything.

Instead, Jungwon decides to settle for the next best thing - reading and re-reading the chat history between you two. Unknowingly, a smile tugs on his face, dimples peeking out as his eyes linger on your messages.

You were so optimistic and cheerful, it was honestly so endearing to him. Even the way you texted sounded so animated - it was almost as if these shared conversations over text had happened in real life - as if you were right there beside him, instead of miles away in your dorm room. He could practically visualize you saying certain things, an unconscious smile blooming on your face as you chattered away.

It made him want to see you again.

After a few more minutes of scrolling, Jungwon reluctantly decided to exit your chats. If any of his members decided to walk up to him and take a peak over his shoulder, garunteed, he would never hear the end of it.

As he exited your contact, his eyes naturally fell onto the most recent chat to date - the one with him and his manager.

Honestly, the fact that Manager Choi was supposed to be paying a visit to the dorms this morning had been pushed back to the furthest corner of his mind.

There was no use in worrying over anything. Especially since yesterday, Sunghoon seemed to be on cloud nine, sauntering around the dorms and giving him cryptic smiles as if he had unknowingly done Jungwon the biggest favour in the world. That alone calmed down Jungwon’s nerves. At this point, all he was left with was curiosity and a dull sense of anticipation.

Unfortunately, a certain someone was not as calm as he was.

Jungwon stifled back a yawn as he shot a half-hearted glare at Sunoo, who was pressed up against the window, his sharp eyes monitoring the calm streets for any sign of their manager's black SUV.

Of course, only Kim Sunoo would decide to make everybody camp out in the living room at 8 in the morning so they could wait for their manager's arrival.

Jungwon appreciated all of the concern Sunoo was showing, but honestly, Sunoo could've shown it later during the day - perhaps when the moon wasn't still visible in the sky.

“Did you really have to wake all of us up this early?” Jungwon finally asks, and a chorus of sleepy groans from the rest of the members follows him in agreement. 

Jungwon looks at the rest of his friends and despite everything, cracks a smile at the ridiculousness of the situation. Heeseung and Ni-ki were sprawled across the floor, having immediately fallen back to sleep after Sunoo quite literally dragged all of them to the living room. Jake was huddled in a bunch of blankets, eyes trained on the blank screen of his phone. And even Jay- “I’ll chain myself to the HYBE building before I let them fire you! - Park could not be bothered to stay awake.

“Uhm, obviously.” Sunoo answers, like he can’t even believe the question that just came out of Jungwon’s mouth. God, it was like he was the only one who cared around here.

“Besides,” Sunoo turned to glare at Sunghoon, “None of you would be awake right now if he just told us what the hell is going on, so blame him. ”

The boy in question, Park Sunghoon, says nothing to defend himself. In fact, despite his eyes being wide open, Sunghoon didn’t even look like he was awake. His blank eyes focused on the void of nothingness in front of him as he struggled to keep his eyes open. He just looked so…out of it. Truly, it was sight to see.

Never one to miss an opportunity, Jungwon sneakily snaps a picture of his older friend. And fuck, it was definitely meme worthy.

The self-proclaimed "mature" leader of Enhypen stares at the picture in his camera roll with barely concealed glee, his mind already flashing forward to the end of the year when he would upload it onto Weverse for Sunghoon’s birthday. Karma, Jungwon thought, for indirectly making Sunoo wake him up at this ungodly hour on their day off.

“Oh my god, he’s here.” Sunoo gasps, and Jungwon immediately stiffens at the sudden outburst. Jungwon watches with a mix of amusement and trepidation as Sunoo flings the door open, scaring their manager half to death as he's dragged by Sunoo into the dorm.

Manager Choi manages to pry Sunoo's hands off of his jacket's sleeve, his eyes curiously roaming around the living room and scrutinizing the zombie-like state of the Enhypen members. To be honest, it was quite shocking for him to see all of them awake. Actually, scratch that - it was quite shocking to see all of them even barely conscious before 11am on their days off.

Mr Choi was so used to dragging them from their beds to wake them up, that he couldn’t even hide his slight concern. Not to mention, he definitely wasn't expecting to have Sunoo pounce on him first thing in the morning, “Are…are you guys okay?”

“We’re fine,” Jungwon insists, trying his best to give their manager a reassuring look while he bites back a yawn, “We’re only up so early because Sunoo couldn’t go back to sleep. For some reason, he decided to wake all of us up too.”

“Well it’s not like I could help it okay!” Sunoo retorts to the dirty looks sent his way, “You telling me all of you aren’t worried about that weird message Jungwon got from Mr Choi?” 

At that, their manager stiffens. It was almost like he forgot his reasons for making such an early trip to the dormitory in the first place. But now that he was here, he had no choice but to unleash the news upon them.

His eyes landed on Jungwon, an nervous expression marring his face, “All of you are probably going to want to sit down for this…”

Ten minutes later, everyone finds themselves seated around the little coffee table in the living room.

Jungwon, despite telling himself that everything was going to be fine, feels himself getting nervous. He sneaks a quick glance at Sunghoon, and because his hyung seems calm, if not a bit excited, Jungwon finally gets the courage to address their Manager, “What is it that you needed to tell me?”

Manager Choi takes a deep breath, a feeling of sympathy settling in his gut as he looks at Jungwon, “Honestly, there’s no easy way to say this…” the man begins, his words immediately causing a shift in the atmosphere of the room, “Jungwon, Belift…had an offer.”

“An…offer?” Jungwon states confusedly, his heart rate speeding up even though he doesn’t quite understand his manager’s words. 

“An offer for what? From who?” It’s Jay who speaks up, his voice calm despite the edge to it. 

“From Starship Entertainment…You know... the company that IVE is under.”

Starship Entertainment? IVE? Jungwon frowns, what did any of that have to do with him?

“There has been an offer from Starship Entertainment to have Jang Wonyoung pose as Jungwon's girlfriend…and Belift has accepted it.”

“What?”

prev ⇥ SEVENTEEN⇥ next

Idol Crush! 💞 Masterlist

SYNOPSIS: Y/N knew that once she and her group, IKONIC, finally debuted, there'd be a chance that she'd run into YANG JUNGWON: The leader of the global rookie group ENHYPEN. But JUNGWON isn't just the leader of a famous 4th gen boy group... he's also the boy that she confessed to three years ago and got rejected by. The last thing Y/N needs to do is fall back in like with him, because even something as simple as an idol crush! could bring about some unwanted drama and Dispatch worthy headlines.

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