#And secondly id like to invite you to go fuck yourself

[blue-spruce-bruce]

Alright I need a second job, a therapist, to get engaged, a career counselor, and a brake job on the car. All today. Or I'll die

[seraphanangelica]

Can I please have scenarios or headcanons on how bnha characters (any that you like) would handle dealing with a ghost with their s/o who totally believes in the supernatural? Thank you in advance

I absolutely love this idea! As a firm believer of the supernatural myself, there was absolutely no way I could delay this response. So here you go!

How They And Their S/O Would Deal With Ghosts

💥This guy has only seen or heard about ghosts and spirits from horror movies. That’s all he cares about them. If they’re not in a movie, they have no existence. Of course, every time he says something along those lines, you roll your eyes and laugh to yourself at his blatant lack of attention to the supernatural.

💥You’ve tried, many times to prove just how real they were. And every single time it would go like this:

💥”I’m telling you, Katsuki, I’ve had experiences with them. You just don’t think they’re real becuase you haven’t.”

💥”Your experiences are just things you don’t want to give logical explanations to, dumbass.”

💥His point is proved further when nothing happens. And nothing happened for days after the last time you two had the repetitive conversation.

💥One day, as Katsuki woke up before you, he got out of bed and proceeded to go about his completely non-paranormal life. After giving you a light kiss on your forehead, he went downstairs to start preparing breakfast.

💥He stopped mid-stair though, as he heard another pair of feet pattering down the stairs behind him at a much quicker and softer pace. At first he thought it was you that had gotten up earlier than usual to spend more time with him in the mornings. He turned around to greet you with a smirk, his face falling slightly when he saw no one around.

💥Paying it no mind, he finished descending the stairs, and continued into the kitchen.

💥In the middle of sautéing vegetables, Katsuki reached out to grab the bottle of olive oil that sat on the counter to his left. He froze mid reach as he saw the barstool behind him rotate as if someone were sitting there out of the corner of his eye.

💥”Oh hell, no.” He still refused to take into account anything you’ve said about the matter.

💥Twenty minutes later, you were downstairs and eating breakfast, in the barstool next to the one that moved. You watched in curiosity as Katsuki leaned against the counter in front of you, crimson eyes darting from the empty seat then to you, then back again.

💥You were concerned, to say the least. “Katsuki, are you alright? You’re acting weird. Come sit down.”

💥He only shook his head and took a deep breath, looking you in the eyes. “Tell me about everything you know about ghosts. Now.”

💥And so you did. You told him everything you’ve been trying to tell him since you’ve known each other. The only difference was that this time, he was actually listening as if it were real and not a story.

💥When you finished he shook his head. “Look, I still don’t believe in this ‘ghost’ stuff, but-“ crash!

💥You’re heads snapped over to the source of the sound, your eyes settling on the plate that used to be next to Katsuki. It was now shattered on the floor, the pieces spreading out farther than the counter span. You knew Katsuki was freaking out but concealing it on the outside.

💥You couldn’t help but smile at your husband as his eyes still focused on the broken dish. “Don’t belive me now? We both know that dish was no where near the edge.”

💀Dabi would be disbelieving, but open to conversation. People talk about anime, right? It’s not real but makes for great small talk. He’d also be stupid. Very, very stupid.

💀The day he walked into the League of Villain’s hideout with an Ouija board under his arm, you thought he’d finally lost his mind.

💀”Are you crazy? Do you know the kind of stuff that happens when you use one of those things? You don’t know what you’re letting in!” You tried to reason with him, even coming up with ways to dispose of it without his knowledge. Unfortunately for you, he knew what you were up to and hid it.

💀”Oh come on. It’s just a little fun,” he teased you one night when he bagan setting it up in the center of your shared room. “What’s the worst that happen?”

💀”Asking ‘is anybody there’ is the stupidest thing you can do becuase thats inviting anything to come into the space. Secondly, you don’t know how to protect yourself against that kind of thing. The worst that can happen is possession, Dabi.” You scolded, leaning against the wall farthest from the board.

💀”Relax, Doll. I have someone in mind, actually. He didn’t really matter much, but I picked this from his wallet,” he reached into his pocket and tossed an ID card in your general direction. “See? Perfectly fine.”

💀It was not perfectly fine. You reluctantly joined him in the game, placing your fingers on the planchette, cringing with every subtle movement the burnt boy made. Because you didn’t want to do this in the first place, you let Dabi carry out the ‘ritual’.

💀As you would’ve guessed, the moment Dabi’s target was acquired, the planchette began moving, much to your dismay. Slowly, the letters formed a sentence. ‘You killed me.’

💀You shot a glare at your boyfriend. “What the hell did you do? Did you seriously just kill a man to contact him?”

💀He shrugged. “I caught the guy stealing from the convenience store, he had to go.”

💀”YOU STEAL FROM CONVENIENCE STORES!”

💀After you both said ‘goodbye’, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched. It practically consumed you as the next hours passed, your eyes always finding themselves back to the abandoned board that still laid on the floor.

💀”WHAT THE FUCK!?” Dabi shouted from the bathroom, his voice one of surprise and confusion. You darted into the small room, expecting a prank left by Twice or blood left by Toga (it happens), and to be pretty honest, you were expecting this too. From the mirror, you could see eight distinct and parallel scratches on his back, too fresh and too deep not to be ignored.

💀Without a word, you bounded over to the closet and wrenched the doors apart with a set purpose. Pushing clothes out of the way, you pulled out an old chest you stored wherever you stayed. Opening the wooden box, you pulled out a match and a bundle of juniper and sage. Lighting the end of the dried herbs, and opening the nearest window, you let the smoke drift to all corners of the room.

💀Dabi watched in confusion and amusement as you walked towards him and started waving the herbs around him, cleansing him as well as the room.

💀”Y/N.”

💀“What, Dabi?”

💀”We should do it in a graveyard next time. This Halloween.”

💀”Fucking Samhain? Are you out of your goddamn mind?!”

💀He believes in ghosts now, so you had that going for ya.

🥦Midoriya would be skeptical about it. As someone who never rules out any possibilities, he has a wide range of knowledge towards that kind of thing. You never knew if someone had a quirk that could control the spirits of the dead.

🥦When you told Izuku that you see dead people, he honestly thought you were quoting The Sixth Sense. You were, in a way. In the same way you were being serious.

🥦You sat on the couch in the living room, remote in hand as you got ready to start a Marvel movie marathon when your fiancé got back from the store downtown. He got called in when someone was murdered just outside, appearing to have been trying to steal some food and magnets. Why someone would try to steal magnets from the convenience store was beyond you.

🥦Sighing, you settled into the cushions, and turned on the TV. Soon you began playing Netflix as you waited. You felt the couch dip next to you. No one was home but you, and you hadn’t heard Izuku get back yet. This was the time she came out.

🥦You faced the girl that sat next to you with a smile. “Looking for Izuku?” She nodded. “He’s not home right now, but you’re welcome to stay with me until he gets back if you like.” She thought for a minute, running a hand through her long hair, then nodded again.

🥦You scrolled through various shows until she pointed at one that sparked her interest. You began playing ‘Supernatural’, watching her reaction to each of the Winchester Brother’s ghostly adventures. “What, it’s not accurate? There’s got to be something that’s right.” You teased.

🥦The girl laughed, the sound never reaching your ears, and shook her head, continuing the show anyway.

🥦A couple episodes later, you heard the sound of keys turning in the lock, signaling your fiancé’s return. You turned to warn the girl, but she was already gone. She liked Izuku, but she was shy; something you learned upon meeting her. “He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, you know.” You told her in a low voice as Izuku stepped into the house.

🥦He gave you a smile. “Hey, sorry for being gone so long,” he held up a plastic bag full of sweets. “They gave this to me as a thank you for helping them, so now we have even more marathon snacks.” Setting the bag on the counter, he wrapped his arms around you, giving you a firm, loving kiss to your forehead.

🥦”It’s fine, Izu. You weren’t gone that long. I had plenty of company.” You returned the hug, your last statement directed to the girl who was now peeking in from the doorway.

🥦The movie marathon was a blast. You nerded out, quoting almost every line from every movie you watched that night. The girl warmed up to Izuku, you noticed, as she sat on the floor in front of him almost as if she were nervous to sit next to him.

🥦”You can sit next to him, kid. He won’t mind.” You told her. Both pairs of eyes snapped up at your speech.

🥦Izuku looked around to see if there were any unknown guests, turning back to you when he saw none. “Uh, Y/N?”

🥦You ignored him and continued. “He’ll be nervous at first, but he’ll warm up to you. Go ahead. You were in this house long before we came here.”

🥦Izuku screeched like a banshee when he felt the couch sink next to him. Like he was a cartoon, he jumped into your arms, clutching you like he was afraid to lose you. The poor panicked boy didn’t know what to do.

🥦So, you began explaining all that you knew about your abilities, or extra quirk as he said. The girl never left, quite amused by the interaction. Izuku never really calmed down. Sure he’s prepared for it in his journals, but he never thought there would be a day.

🥦”I told you ‘I see dead people’.”

🥦”Y-yeah, I guess you did."

[angrylizardjacket]

i like the nightlife, she says {Roger Taylor}

A/N: more of the modern high school AYDTD au no-one asked for. I wrote this all on my phone so it's probs not great but it is what it is. In the modern au her brother's not a dick and I'm loving it. Feedback is appreciated. I'll fix the formatting tomorrow.

"You need more friends your age." Oscar tells Ash while he's making them both dinner. Their dad's still at work but mac and cheese was never something either of the siblings complained about.

"Why?" Ash, sitting on the counter top by the sink, watches as her older brother frowns at the question.

"Why? What do you mean 'why'?" He spluttered, eyebrows raised as he turned to face her. "It's good for your social development-"

"So you're a psych student now?" Ash crosses her arms, leaning back against the wall, "I've got friends back home, I'm only here for a year and a half before I'm going to uni so why should I bother?" And oh, it's like two successive gut punches; the elder of the siblings has to take a long moment of staring into the saucepan, stirring idly, in order to process what Ash had said.

"A year and a half is a longass time," Oscar chooses to focus on the latter, and Ash rolled her eyes, "how often do you see or talk to your friends back home?" He uses her phrasing but it hurts just a little. Ash, in turn, is quiet for a long time.

"Do Snapchat streaks count?" She asks, a little sheepish, like she already knows his answer.

"They absolutely do not; you should be out with friends being young and dumb on a Friday, not eating mac and cheese with your brother." He turns off the burner and motions for her to hop off the counter. As he plates up dinner, they're both contemplative.

"I'm young and dumb regardless," finally Ash speaks, giving Oscar a pointed look, and he concedes on that point at least. After a beat, Ash's lips twitch into a mischievous smile, "but if you let me borrow your friend's ID again we can go see Queen and I can make friends with John." Oscar regards her curiously for a moment, mouth full of food.

"Not Roger?" He asks through his food, genuinely confused, "isn't he in your class- ?"

"Gross, finish your fucking mouthful first." Wrinkling her nose, Ash pushes her food around her bowl, waiting for him to finish. Instead, he opens his mouth wide and makes an obnoxious noise, laughing as Ash fake gags, "you're an absolute cretin sometimes, you know that?"

"Is that your word of the day?" He asks with a grin after he dies actually swallow his mouthful, poking fun at how strange the word 'cretin' sounded amid her usual vocabulary. "Anyways, why not make friends with Roger if you're going after the band? He's in your year, isn't he?" He waits patiently for Ash to finish her own mouthful before answering.

"Firstly, he ruined my major work so I hate him on principle," Ash held up a singular finger before moving on to get next point, "secondly, I've been at this school for one semester and I already know that Roger Taylor does not just make friends with girls," she's far too passionate for this to be off the top of her head; Oscar know when she's been thinking hard about something, and this must have been on her mind for a while, "and thirdly, I'm not going to try and befriend him at a gig, he's got girls all over him, and I don't think he even knows my name." Slumping back in her chair as her momentum left her, Ash shovels another spoon full of pasta into her mouth angrily.

"Why does that matter?" Oscar finally asks, and when Ash looks to him making a confused noise, she doesn't like the knowing look in his eyes. "Why does him not knowing your name matter? Can't you just introduce yourself?" Ash turns pink in the silence that follows, scrunching up her face and refusing to meet Oscar's gaze as she begrudgingly agrees. "I mean I'm not saying you need to forgive the guy for the whole major work thing," Oscar shrugs, letting the tension drop, and Ash visibly relaxes, "that was fucked, and if you want me to punt him into the English Channel, you know I will." That gets her to actually laugh, and Oscar's gaze turns fond, "but maybe give him a chance."

"Half a chance." Ash counters, as if it were a game, and Oscar nods, as if agreeing to her terms. "And I'll make friends with John anyways; he's funky, I like him." She says bluntly, and Oscar snorts out a laugh.

"Alright, sounds good; did you wanna go tonight?" He asks, and Ash's expression turns confused.

"I thought you had that poetry competition tonight." She frowned, and there was a moment in which Oscar's heart filled with fondness for his little sister, his number one fan.

"Yeah, after that, biscuit, that only goes 'til eight; Freddie said they don't usually start until nine-thirty." After a moment of contemplating his words, Ash grins and nods.

Oscar and Ash walk in during the band's sound check, and Roger almost drops his drumstick where he's twirling it. Both Brian and Freddie give them a wave, which is returned by the gingers, and Roger has to stop himself from snapping at the others where they glance pointedly at him; he's already turning red as it is. He's grateful to hide behind the drum kit. They saw each other like six hours ago; they always have art together last period on a Friday, but seeing her at one of his gigs is different.

She's standoffish and aloof in class, she actually uses the free time the teacher allocates in art to work on her projects where everyone else uses it to socialise. He's not even sure if she's bothered to learn the names of half the people in her class, she might not even know the teacher's name, but when she's here, bright and bubbly next to her lanky, uni student of a brother - who is literally over a foot taller than her; side by side they're a little jarring to look at - she clearly know John, who is two years below them, and as it turns out, she knows Roger too.

Roger spends his time between sets by the bar, with the others, and a crowd of uni girls who haven't realised he's probably too young for them. Not that he's quick to point that out. It takes until he spots Oscar at the other end of the bar, taking to Brian with a softly starry-eyed expression, to remember that it's probably a terrible idea to leave any of his bandmates alone with Ash. Taking one look at the table Ash had commondeered earlier that night, he realises he might be too late, seeing John squinting suspiciously at Ash.

"Hey, your eyes are green." Roger hears John say as the drummer makes a beeline for the table.

"What? Yeah, why?" Ash, confused as all hell, shoots a concerned glance at the incoming Roger, as if silently asking what the hell was going on and if this was the bassist's normal behaviour. John follow her gaze and gives Roger a shiteating grin.

"No reason." John says pointedly, sliding from his stool. "I'll be back, I'm going to take a piss." And with that he leaves. Roger regrets ever inviting the little twerp to join the band; fifteen-year-olds are universally terrible, Roger decides, and John Deacon is no different.

"What was that about?" Ash asks, and Roger takes a long sip of his beer, enduring the taste despite how much he hated it. Finally, he sits in on the stool directly beside Ash, though she doesn't seem inclined to move away.

"Nothing, ignore him." Roger rolls his eyes, shooting for casual, and silence stretches between them. Finally he gets a good look at her; from the stage he could sort of see her, but not really beyond knowing it's her, and even then he could only identify her for her hair. He really needed to find his contacts of she was going to keep showing up looking this good to gigs. He's seen her in her school uniform more times than he can count, and last time she was here she was yelling at him and he was too focused on trying not to think about how hot she was when she was mad to notice her clothes. But today? Today she'd dressed up, and he'd be dammed if he didn't admire it a little bit.

He's never seen her in makeup, granted it was just some eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss, but it made her look a little softer, somehow all of the look, from the sleeveless button down shirt being tucked into her high waisted skirt, to the dainty, lace up heels she wore, all just made her look... cute.

"You guys sound really good; its weird seeing you, Brian, and John all on stage together but it sounds good." She half laughs, and Roger hadn't considered it from an outside perspective, especially not from her's; her tutor, classmate, and a kid two years below all somehow in the same band? It is a bit strange when he thinks about it.

He's about to thank her when she frowns, looking at him and tapping a finger to her lips in thought, grimacing when she forgets she's wearing lipgloss and her finger comes away slightly shiny. Roger ignored the thought of how much he wants to taste that lipgloss, preferably while she was still wearing it.

"I thought you wore glasses." She mused, voice quiet enough that it seems to be mostly to herself, wiping her lipgloss-finger on a napkin. The idea that she'd paid enough attention to notice his sporadic use of his glasses made his heart flutter just a little.

"Not while drumming." He grins, and Ash nods, the look in her eyes like she's filing that information away for later.

"It would ruin the look?" She asks with a smirk, eyes making their way down his body as she takes in his full outfit. Roger crosses his ankles in the stool, puffing out his chest a little in obvious, nonverbal agreement, and her smile widens. "You've got a whole seventies thing going on here," she takes a moment to play with a bit of fringe on his open vest; "it's groovy."

"Yeah, well, we're trying for a classic rock, like Guns 'n' Roses type thing." Roger explains easily, there's a pause, and in the silence he reached out to where the hem of her skirt had flipped up on her thigh. He smoothed it out, but pushed his luck by leaving his hand there. "You look nice, by the way, Ash," and maybe it's the fact that he does know her name, or his hand on her thigh, or even just the compliment, but Ash turns bright pink. She's not sure if he notices, at least she hopes he doesn't. She takes a long sip of her drink, and thanks god for the low lighting of the bar, and after a moment she's pretty sure she's recovered enough to answer.

"Thanks, Oz had a thing before this." She awkwardly explains, and though it's not the full answer - if she had to explain that she did in fact dress up a little to come see the band, she might have to explain why - but she's saved by the proverbial bell when the rest of the band comes to collect Roger for the next set. Roger gives her thigh a cheeky squeeze beneath the table before he's hopping off the stool and heading to where the band was set up, though there was no stage this time.

"Did you make a friend?" Oscar practically coos, poking at her cheek where he can see a blush even in this light. Ash swats him away, unable to stifle her grin. "Aww, you did, didn't you?"

"You're such a dick." Ash slaps his hand away where he goes to pet her on the head, but she's still smiling, and also glad that their table is far enough away that the band can't hear them. "Where were you anyways?" And Oscar's smile becomes genuine.

"I was making friends too." And he sounds a little wistful as he gazes up at the band. Ash follows his gaze and then Brian grins at them Oscar grins back.

"Oscar Demitri Clarke, I forbid you from having a crush on my tutor," Ash hisses, though she's clearly elated at how much she'll be able to tease him about it.

"I make no promises; he's cute and he clearly cares about people so-" Oscar says loftily, but Ash groans, thumping her head into the table as the music starts up.

"You're already planning your imaginary wedding to him, aren't you; you know he's a vegetarian and an animal rights activist?" And at that information Oscar make the single funniest noise Ash has ever heard come out of him, like a hamster being sucked into a pool drain.

"He's perfect." Oscar breathes, before he clears his throat, and he leans down to nudge Ash's shoulder with his own. "Anyways, those in glass houses, biscuit; I saw Roger's hand." And Ash could feel the blush rising on her cheeks again.

"Fine; truce?" She asked, and Oscar's grin was sharp but compliant.

"Truce."

[missjanjie]

Branjie Fic - Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer (3/?)

Title: Hold Me Closer, Tiny Dancer Summary: Brooke Lynn is a graduate student anxiously embracing her new position as her favorite dance professors’ new TA. Vanessa is a sophomore dance major who just might make her way into being more than the teacher(assistant)’s pet. (lesbian/university AU) Word Count: ~2.7k (this chapter)/~7.7k (total) Relationship: Branjie (Vanessa ‘Vanjie’ Mateo/Brooke Lynn Hytes) Rating: T Note(s): rating is subject to change, this is based on the story so far

Read on AO3 | Ch. 1 | Ch. 2

“Okay, there are two announcements I have before we’re done for the day,” Katya said to the class as the session was winding to an end. “First, if you have not submitted your potential song list to Brooke Lynn, you need to do so either before you leave, or email it by the end of the day,” she glanced back at the paper. “Secondly – and this is exciting – we’ve been invited to attend a dance exhibition in DC the last weekend of September, which is two weeks away. They’re even putting us up in a hotel, so this is a fancy fucking affair,” there were some scattered giggles throughout the class. “Brooke Lynn’s passing out…they’re not permission slips, but just the information we need so you don’t die.”

“That said, you might want to mention it to your parents, in case you can get some spending money out of them, because you’re on your own for food,” Brooke paused to think. “Well, there will be snacks at the exhibition, at least.”

“Yeah there will,” Vanessa retorted with a wink, earning some laughs from the students nearest to her.

Brooke pinched the bridge of her nose. “I walked into that, alright,” she murmured and finished passing out the sheets. “That’s all the housekeeping, you guys are free to go,” and with that, the students began filing out of the studio.

Except, of course, Vanessa. Brooke had come to expect as much at this point, and Katya had conveniently decided to leave for lunch at the same time – though it wouldn’t have been surprising if she was waiting just outside the room with a listening ear.

“I got my song list for you,” Vanessa announced proudly, handing a typed-up sheet to her. She bounced on her feet as she watched her read, waiting intently for her reaction.

Brooke’s eyes scanned the list and her brow arched. “Really, Vanjie?” she asked, knowing she had done this on purpose, and started to read the list out loud. "'When I Kissed the Teacher', 'Kiss the Girl', 'Kiss Me'," she waved her arm, showing that she read the rest of the list, that she had gotten the point. “Did you come up with all of these yourself?” she asked, exasperated despite the smile just tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Yes,” no, Blair helped with most of them. “It’s clever though, right?”

Brooke chuckled softly. Even with the stunt she pulled, she still wanted a positive reaction, and it was undeniably cute. “It is clever, yes. Good job,” she exhaled. “Now do you have a real list?” she looked at her expectantly. “You forgot to make an actual list, didn’t you?” more silence. “Vanjie, come on. This is still your final project. You need an actual course of action here.”

“I know that!” Vanessa huffed defensively. “I just…” she bit her lip and looked down. “I don’t actually know what to do, okay? I’ve never had to like, create something from scratch like this, and for a fucking final? It’s a lot!”

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Brooke cupped her chin and made their eyes meet. “I know this seems like a lot, and it can get overwhelming. But you’re so much smarter than you give yourself credit for, I know you can do this, because I believe in you. And I’m gonna help you get this right, okay?”

Vanessa swallowed thickly. She hated getting emotional, but at the same time, wore her heart on her sleeve. It hurt to feel like she wasn’t in control – that’s who she built herself to be – someone bold and fearless, who never had to worry about what was on the horizon. And Brooke just countered it all – she was quiet and organized, with a brain that ran a mile a minute, always planning, always preparing, maybe that fueled her desire to win her over. “If there’s anyone that can, it’d be you.”

So, they sat on the floor of the studio for upwards of an hour, talking about Vanessa’s musical tastes, her strengths and weaknesses, and what she could best convey through a performance. And it was the most fun either of them ever had doing homework. Finally, they homed in on a song that they both were ready to get behind.

“And I’m not gonna get read for going this route? It’s not…unpolished?” Vanessa asked, looking at the lyrics on her phone even though she knew them by heart.

“Well, that’s the thing. It’s not going to be a polished, refined number – that’s not who you are. You need to do something that speaks to you, not what you think everyone wants to see,” Brooke smiled, reaching out and squeezing her hand reassuringly.

Vanessa smiled, resting her head on Brooke’s shoulder. “Not to get all sappy, but I really couldn’t have done it without you,” she admitted softly.

Brooke wrapped an arm around her and kissed her forehead. “Aw, that’s so sweet. I like it when you get sappy. It makes me feel like there’s another side of you that not everyone gets to see.”

Blushing, Vanessa hid her face against Brooke’s chest. “Don’t go ‘round telling people that. I got, you know, a reputation on the line,” she mumbled.

“What? That you’ve got a soft, warm center like a good cookie?” Brooke gently tilted her chin up and kissed her, teasingly biting at her bottom lip. “Good thing I’ve got a sweet tooth then, eh?”

Vanessa snorted. “That was so fucking corny,” she said before kissing her again, “but I’m into it, come get these cookies,” she straddled her lap and rest both hands on the back of her head, as if she were preventing her from running away from a kiss again.

But Brooke wouldn’t have ran if her life depended on it. With one hand on the small of Vanessa’s back, and the other between her shoulder blades, she held her close, no longer any space between them. A pleased sigh slipped out between their lips in what was a culmination of everything that’d happened in the past couple weeks.

That was, until, they both realized there was heavy breathing that didn’t belong to either of them. They managed to stop making out long enough to realize that a janitor was standing in the doorway, watching them. Subsequently, they broke apart and quickly gathered their things. If nothing else, at least they both found it to be a massive mood killer, leaving neither one wanting more in that moment.

“I’ll see you in class,” Brooke murmured, heading right.

“Yep, totally,” Vanessa replied and turned left, neither of them wanting to know if the janitor did anything next, though he did now have a list of people that were going to be rather pissed at him.

----------

Brooke Lynn didn’t necessarily make a habit of going out, but she did her best to enjoy herself when she did. There was a lesbian bar not too far from campus that she had been meaning to check out anyway – the last thing she needed tonight was a guy hitting on her after the janitor incident days prior. Of course, she couldn’t think about that without thinking about Vanessa, and what might have happened had they not been interrupted. It couldn’t have gone too far, right? She liked to believe she would have had enough self-control to not fuck her in the dance studio, but Vanessa was changing her perception of everything she knew the longer she was around her.

So, she sat at the bar and ordered a drink, scanning the room. It was reasonably occupied for a Saturday night, and there were plenty of pretty girls, and yet… “You ever been hung up on someone you know you shouldn’t be?” she asked the bartender.

“Every straight girl I ever slept with, honey,” she replied with a shrug. “That’ll get your heart broken real quick.”

“I can imagine,” Brooke nodded, absentmindedly stirring her straw around her glass. “I swear though, it’s like I can still hear her voice.”

As it turned out, she was not descending further into madness. Vanessa, A’keria, Blair, and Blair’s girlfriend had all decided to hit up the bar as well – after procuring some convincing ID’s, of course. And once they were inside, the drinks were flowing, and inhibitions were tossed to the wayside.

But the college students had gotten a much earlier start than she – A’keria had already picked out who she was taking home, and Blair was fading in and out of the main area with her date in tow. That left Vanessa, dancing to her heart’s content.

“Oh my god,” Brooke exhaled, quickly downing her drink and leaving cash. She wiggled her way through other club-goers until she ‘accidentally’ bumped into her. “Well, look who it is,” she chuckled.

It was then that it became glaringly obvious that Vanessa was wasted. She let out an excited yell and threw her arms around the taller girl. “Heeey Brooke Lynn,” she hiccupped and began dancing up against her, but it was at the point of sloppy, rather than sexy.

“Jesus, Vanjie, how much have you had to drink tonight?” she was letting the inebriated girl attempt to grind on her because it appeared to be the only thing keeping her from falling down. She steadied her by putting her hands on her waist, shaking her head in amusement.

Vanessa tilted her head in thought, then shrugged. “I lost count,” she tried to pull Brooke closer to kiss her. “We need to pick up where we left off in the studio,” she said in what was an attempt at a ‘seductive’ voice.

“What we need is to get your ass home before you hurt yourself. Who did you come here with?” Brooke waited until Vanessa pointed Blair out, then held on to her as they walked over. “I’m taking Vanjie home. Did she have anything else on her?”

Blair tilted her head, then perked up. “Oh! You’re Brooke!” she smiled brightly, until she realized Brooke was still waiting for an answer. “Yeah, here,” she handed her the small clutch Vanessa had come in with. “Bye! Get home safe!” she chirped.

For a split second, Brooke wondered how someone could just trust a relative stranger to take their friend home. But the girl knew her by name, and she was Vanessa’s friend; she probably had at least some knowledge of the nature of their relationship, or at the very least that she could be a trustworthy person. She wrapped her arm around Vanessa’s waist and helped her out of the bar.

After a half-block of stumbling, however, Brooke realized this was not going to be an effective method of transport. But, for whatever reason, taking a cab or uber didn’t cross her mind. Instead, she picked the smaller girl up, letting her legs wrap around her waist, and carrying her back like she would a toddler. Much to her relief, Vanessa didn’t put up any fight, just giggling in amusement and rambling semi-coherently all the way back to her dorm.

Brooke carefully set Vanessa down on the bed, turning on the lamp on her end table so she could see without waking up the sleeping roommate. “Stay put,” she instructed quietly as she got up to rifle around her belongings.

Vanessa nodded obediently but pouted. “We’re not fucking tonight, are we?”

“Sorry to disappoint,” she retorted softly. “But I do need to undress you,” she moved her around like a ragdoll as she got her out of the skin-tight tube dress she was in, as well as her undergarments. She replaced them with the Hello Kitty pajamas she had found in one of the drawers and set the party clothes aside.

It was funny, in an ironic sort of way. Brooke had thought about Vanessa naked more times than she would ever admit. And here she was, catching a glimpse at her undressed form, and she couldn’t have been less interested in going down that path. If anything, she felt guilty about everything that had transpired because shit, this was someone that had to use a fake ID to get into a bar. Hell, Vanessa could barely hold her head up while Brooke wiped off her makeup.

Brooke tried to ignore those nagging feelings – she had finally started to move past all of her excuses to avoid pursuing her, she didn’t want this setback now. “How are you feeling?” she whispered.

“Sleepy,” Vanessa mumbled, letting Brooke tuck her in. “Are you leaving?”

“No, no I got you, Vanjie,” she assured, leaning down and kissing her forehead. “I’ll be right here if you need me, okay?” and she waited and watched, making sure she was safely asleep before she allowed herself to sit down.

----------

“Ugh, fuck I wanna die,” Vanessa mumbled into her pillow. She rolled back and forth a couple times before her eyes opened. The first thing she saw was the bed across from her was empty – her roommate had already left for the day. This made her wildly confused when she suddenly heard a loud, heavy snore. “What the fuck?” she looked around, and when she saw Brooke passed out on the floor beside her, she felt tears start to burn her eyes, which she promptly wiped away and chalked up to being touchy from the hangover.

Trying to recall the night before proved to be a struggle. She had a vague memory of seeing Brooke at the bar, but being carried home by her? Laying limp while she changed her into pajamas and cleaned her up? Those were things she had to piece together by assessing her surroundings. It touched her – no one other than her mother had gone out of their way to make sure she was taken care of like this. How was she even supposed to react to that?

“Wake up, bitch,” Vanessa hit Brooke with the pillow, laying on her stomach so she could see her better. “What happened last night? And why am I wearing the pajamas my mom packed for me?”

“First of all, they’re adorable and your mom is the best for packing them,” Brooke told her as she pushed up to a sitting position, “Second of all, you were a hot mess last night. I took you back here and you passed out around…two in the morning, I think, ‘cause I remember falling asleep closer to three,” she recalled, scratching the back of her head.

Vanessa smiled, looking down at her lap. “You didn’t have to do that. I can handle myself,” there weren’t any actual negative emotions in her tone, aside from some embarrassment at the idea of having acted a fool in front of Brooke.

Brooke got up on her knees, folding her arms on Vanessa’s bed and propping her chin on top of them. “I know I didn’t, but you shouldn’t have to when it comes to something like that. You could’ve gotten hurt if someone didn’t step in. And yes, I know you were with friends, but I needed to make sure for myself.”

The hangover bothered Vanessa less and less the longer she had Brooke in her room. It gave her something to focus on that wasn’t her throbbing headache and how she couldn’t sit up for more than a few seconds without feeling tired or nauseous. “For real though, thanks for handling my crazy ass last night. I don’t know a whole lotta people that would.”

“Of course, everyone needs to know there’s someone to bail them out when they’re in trouble,” Brooke pushed herself all the way up and sat on the edge of the bed, gently pushing the hair off Vanessa’s face. “Do you need anything else? Should I stay for a little longer?”

Vanessa beamed gently and shook her head. “Nah, I can take it from here. But really, thank you.”

Brooke nodded and got up. “Take care of yourself, Vanjie. You know how to reach me if you need it,” she leaned down and kissed her forehead and closed the blinds before leaving.

Once Brooke was gone, Vanessa pulled the covers back up over her head, expecting to be back asleep within minutes, but her thoughts kept her awake, replaying everything that had happened in her head. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about Brooke, and it made her feel warm inside. She groaned, staring up at the ceiling. “Fuck,” she muttered, realizing this had gone past flirtation and into a full-blown crush.

[atmilliways]

Are you still doing the prompt thing? If so can you do 46 please?

I am always and forever doing the prompt thing, gentle reader. Sorry for taking so long. 

(prompt meme)

This one is “Nathan, baby.” I’ve actually written something for this before, which you can read here if you like, but here’s something fresh off the top of my brain as well. In other news, this was originally going to be a different pairing, but it, ah… took a turn. In other other news, Skwisgaar is a sex addict and no one is surprised. 

–

When Toki first joined the band, they all figured he was the youngest out of all five of them. He was scrawny, kind of high-voiced, and relentlessly optimistic. It was the natural assumption. Even Toki had thought that. Then it came out — at some point after their new manager had tracked down Toki’s birth certificate and obtained things like a work visa and valid passport on his behalf — that he was born in late March. Which would have been fine. Except… Nathan had been born in May. Of the same year. The jokes were relentless, and there wasn’t really anywhere he could go in their shitty shared apartment to escape them. Doesch baby want hisch bottle?Mine eyes ams older then yours, can you reads what dats say to me?Dood, I’m gonna have ta see some ID before I letcha have this. Yous, kid! Gets off my lawn!You’re the youngescht, you get up and do it. So, whens am you olds enough to drink legalies?Jest call me Grandpa! … Wait, no, don’t do theat. I’m drunk. … Sonny. Nathan hadn’t wanted to strangle a group of guys to death more since he’d made the varsity football team at fourteen and the older boys had singled him out for hazing. And the most unfair part of it all was that when he confronted Offdensen — whose fault all of this obviously was — in his swanky corner office in the nice part of the business district, the guy wouldn’t let him throttle so much as one of the bastards. “We, ah, can’t afford to miss any performances this quarter,” Charles explained patiently, “and, well, giving any of your bandmates a beating might injure their arms or hands, rendering them unable to play. Crystal Mountain won’t appreciate their newest signed band having to postpone their first official tour.”Nathan growled in frustration. Charles raised an eyebrow. “I could… speak to the rest of the guys on your behalf, if you want.”“No! That’ll just make it worse.” Nathan slouched angrily into one of the chairs in front of the desk. “Fuck. Who cares if I’m younger than Toki? It’s only by a month and a half, and I’ve done way more shit than that fucktard. Did you know we had to explain what sex was to him a couple weeks ago? He didn’t even know.”“I see.” Pausing only to jot down a note for later on a post-it, Charles folded his hands and regarded the frontman seriously. Which Nathan appreciated, because Charles wasn’t giving him any crap or just saying something dismissive and waving him off so he could get more work done. “Perhaps it would help to brainstorm some, ah, ways you might demonstrate that being the youngest doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be taken seriously.”Nathan blinked. “Uh… okay. Well… I’m the leader, right? Dethklok is my band.”“Yes, that’s one point,” Charles said. “But that might be a little on the abstract side. Best to play to your strengths, Nathan.” “You just told me I couldn’t punch or tackle anybody!”“First of all, not exactly. I told you not to punch and tackle your band mates in order to facilitate solving this particular problem, at least for now.” Charles inclined his head just a bit. “Secondly, that would be too easy. You are by far in the best physical condition out of anyone in Dethklok — although remind me to have a conversation with you about the results from your most recent liver panel, once this has been resolved.”Maybe it was shallow, but Nathan perked up a little at the compliment, while at the same time tuning out that bit about his liver completely. “You think so?”Charles nodded and steepled his fingers. “Absolutely. Toki is probably the next strongest, but he’s still recovering from the effects of malnutrition and a few other downsides of living on the streets.”Nathan found himself nodding in agreement. “Yeah, he keeps complaining about those rabies shots. I mean, it’s just a shot, why does he have to be such a pussy about it? I wish I were at risk for rabies, fucking brutal…” “Yes, well.” Charles gave him a perfunctory smile. “I wouldn’t know about that. But I hope this little chat has helped and that, ah, we should be able to stay on schedule for the upcoming tour?”It was pretty clear after that that Charles had work he wanted to get done, so Nathan left. He walked back to the apartment, hands in his pockets, idly mulling over some ideas for a song about getting bitten by a bat and turning into a rabid vampire while knowing he probably wouldn’t do anything with it. What Charles had said in his office had made sense to Nathan, at the time. The longer he walked, though, the more dissatisfied he felt. Advice was all well and good, and getting compliments on his physical prowess was a decent bonus, but it didn’t actually settle anything. So he couldn’t actually hurt any of the guys — that was fine, he could figure out some way around that. He just had to beat them at something. Maybe even just one of them. … Toki. Toki was new, the weak link. All Nathan had to do was prove he was the crybaby. Once was probably all it would take to cement that reputation with the rest of the guys forever. When he finally reached the apartment, he was disappointed to see that the van was gone. They’d pooled their money, back before they’d really had any, and bought one of those white vans that only perverts owned — there had been a token effort to repaint the thing black, except they’d put Murderface in charge of getting paint and he’d gotten the wrong kind, so it looked even shittier but in a dull, lumpy kind of way. But the thing still ran, on a good day, and getting it to start usually meant celebrating with a bar crawl. Which was kind of a bummer to be left out of, but Nathan figured that at least it gave him more time to come up with a plan to take Toki down a notch. Maybe if he started scribbling down ideas in his trust notebook, something good would jump out at him. When he let himself into the dingy three-bedroom, he heard something. A soft, rhythmic squeaking. Heavy breathing… Two sets of heavy breathing. Nathan rolled his eyes in annoyance. It wasn’t exactly unusual for Skwisgaar to stay home and invite a skank (or three) over for some fun while the rest of them were out, but he and Nathan shared a room. He knew from experience that whatever the guy had going on in there could take hours. Better to just barge in with his eyes screwed mostly closed to avoid seeing anything that might scar him for life, get his notebook, and get the the hell out. Ideally without tripping over any discarded granny panties like last time. Ugh. Or maybe it would be someone young and actually still hot… It was a toss-up, really. You never knew with Skwisgaar.He put one hand on the doorknob, the other over his eyes, and bellowed, “Skwisgaar, I’m coming in!”Three things happened immediately. Nathan pushed the door open with a little too much emphasis, sending it against the adjoining wall with a bang. It bounced back and he caught it with both hands to keep from getting smacked in the face. Skwisgaar, with a yell of “WAITS,” tried to jump up and lunge for the door, but got his feet tangled in the blanket. He ended up rolling off the bed and landing on the floor with a hard thud. Toki shrieked and grabbed for a pillow to hide his naked chest. For a moment, there was nothing but deep, awkward silence as Skwisgaar picked himself up and sat on the edge of the bed with the blanket covering his lap. “What…” Nathan looked back and forth between the two guitarists, before finally settling his glare on the lead. “… the FUCK, Skwisgaar! What did I fucking tell you? No screwing anyone who’s in the band! That’s how your last seven bands ended up breaking up!”“Knowds I shouldn’t had tells you dat,” the Swede grumbled under his breath. “And you!” Nathan jabbed an accusatory finger in Toki’s direction. “What the hell are you doing, covering yourself up like a damn girl? You don’t have tits!”“Sorries,” Toki squeaked. He did not release his death grip on the pillow, or lower it even slightly. Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose, unconsciously mimicking something his mother had always done whenever she was particularly exasperated with him. “And god, don’t even get me started on how fucking gay this is. This is really going to fuck with the band dynamics.”“Pft, no it won’ts,” Skwisgaar said dismissively. “We’ve already beens fucking for a weeks and none of yous jackoffs notice, no big deals. Besides—” He smirked. “—I don’ts remembers no complaints to suckings yous off dat one times.”Toki’s eyes widened even further, and he stared at the frontman with a cross between nervous solidarity and mild jealousy. Through the roar of blood rushing to his face, Nathan wondered if it was possible to open your eyes so wide that your eyeballs just fell right out of their sockets. “That’s… different,” he mumbled. “We were both really drunk, so it didn’t count. And… I didn’t realize you remembered. That.” Just thinking about it, to his continued embarrassment, sent some of his blood rushing south as well. Drunk or not, that had been a pretty good night. “Well I does, so whats?” Skwisgaar shrugged, his long blond hair clinging slightly to his sweaty skin. Whatever he and Toki had been doing before Nathan had barged in, he must’ve been really into it. “You had never hads your cock sucks by a guy, and little Tokis here never hads sex with anothers porsons evers. Now you both has. No big deals, you don’t gots to be a bigs baby abouts it.”The word baby made Nathan’s eye twitch, and he was one hundred percent sure that was intentional. Part of that insight was gut instinct; the rest was the way Skwisgaar licked his plush lips and winked lasciviously. Nathan knew he was being manipulated, but it was working anyway. By the time he kicked the door closed behind him he already had his sleeveless t-shirt over his head and onto the floor. “Anyones here ever dones de threesome befores?” Skwisgaar asked with a shit-eating grin. “Noes? Well, pays attentions, school ams in session—”Nathan reached the older man’s bed and shoved him down flat on his back, landing across Toki’s lap. That took care of the leer. He straddled Skwisgaar’s hips and barely had to press down to feel his arousal pushing up beneath the blankets. Toki must have seen it too, because he let out a gasp and followed Nathan’s lead, grabbing for Skwisgaar’s wrists to pin his hands above his head. The younger guitarist looked up at Nathan with an earnest puppy dog look. He really just wanted to fit in and be accepted. Nathan, flushed with pleasure at coming out on top in this situation both literally and figuratively, magnanimously gave him a nod of approval before turning the majority of his attention back to the struggling Swede. “You’re not in charge here, Skwisgaar,” Nathan growled, putting more of his weight on him to prevent any real squirming around. He was starting to regret not taking his jeans off yet — what little movement the trapped guitarist could manage was targeted and stimulating — but there would be time for that soon. Right now he had a point to prove. In fact… He’s the weak link, Nathan realized with a feral, triumphant grin. Skwisgaar, not Toki. Of course! Offdensen had even said it, Toki would probably be among the strongest of all of them once the malnutrition wore off. Murderface was borderline scrawny but the guy bounced back from most things like a rubber ball and always had a knife on him, and Pickles was small but scrappy, and claimed to know twenty-two different ways to kill a man with a broken bottle. But Skwisgaar, his default approach to life was fucking. His libido was legendary, but it was also his weak spot. Anyone who’d ever been within fifty feet of him on the rare occasion a girl took off and left him with blue balls knew that. Making him submit would get him and Toki both to shut up about the whole baby thing, and the other two guys would get bored faster if they were the only ones making the jokes. Teeth still bared, Nathan leaned down and nipped at the pale skin connecting Skwisgaar’s neck and shoulder. He felt Skwisgaar suck in a sharp breath under him and, beneath that, Toki’s legs tensing. The kid was wound so tight that, Nathan realized belatedly, his erection was pretty much right in their faces… Time to see how far this situation could be pushed. Skwisgaar’s eyes widened as Nathan grabbed his chin between one thumb and forefinger. That other time they’d messed around, it hadn’t been anything more than straight-to-business pleasure, and he could tell Skwisgaar was wondering if some sort of kiss was about to happen. It was tempting — just to mess with him, of course, of course, what kind of guy would Nathan be if he admitted to himself that kissing was more than just a means to get ladies to agree to have sex — but no. He turned the blond’s mouth towards Toki and gruffly ordered, “Suck it.” And although Skwisgaar rolled his eyes, his pupils dilated at the command, and he did as he was told. Toki’s head hit the shitty plywood headboard with a thunk. Fuck, Nathan thought as he watched Skwisgaar go to town, rolling into the task with gusto. He really, really wishing he’d taken his jeans off earlier. Last time he hadn’t exactly been in a position to, you know, watch, but he remembered how good those lips had felt.

Nathan scrambled back up onto his knees on the edge of the bed and yanked on his zipper so hard it nearly came off, but holy shit it was a relief. For a moment he got lost in just watching and just palming himself through the front of his tented boxers, but then Toki whimpered. What a baby, Nathan thought, and that reminded him of the increasingly forgettable point of all this. He scrambled off the bed to shuck both his pants and boxers in one go, and sat next to Toki at the head of the bed. Skwisgaar was kind of in the way, but Nathan just threw his legs over the guy and used his bony-ass hip as a leg rest. Then he grabbed the rhythm guitarist’s hand and shoved it towards his cock.

The hand gripped, and Nathan groaned. In this, it seemed, Toki needed little to no instruction, presumably because he’d been practicing this particular activity on himself for longer than he’d known what to call it. No willing to be outdone, a second later Skwisgaar’s hand was there too, taking over any of Nathan’s length that needed attention. The frontman even couldn’t muster any shits to give when Toki’s head thumped down on his shoulder, mouth turning wetly against his skin to muffle the squeaky little sounds that Skwisgaar was wringing out of him, or when Skwisgaar started grinding against the backs of his thighs. It felt too good, too warm, too temporary to bother with second thoughts, and he really hadn’t ever had a threesome before.

Maybe this was something to look into doing more often… With, uh, chicks, of course. Obviously. It didn’t take long after that. Toki came with a choked cry into Nathan’s hair, his grip spasming just right to bring Nathan to the edge but disengaging as he slumped bonelessly in the other direction. Nathan growled and groped blindly until he found a handful of blonde hair and tugged Skwisgaar’s obliging mouth over to finish. He felt immensely pleased with himself for managing to turn an otherwise aggravating day around, with very little resistance or backtalk from the other two men. That was real leadership. Nathan’s last thought before he went over the edge was that if anyone was a big gay baby it was probably Skwisgaar, for being so into sucking cock. And for swallowing both times. And getting off to it into his own hand. Nathan waited a few minutes to get his breath back, then languorously got to his feet. He surveyed the battlefield of tangled sheets, strewn pillows, and sweaty, limp guitarists with a warm glow of dominance and superiority, then left without comments to take a shower. It wasn’t until he was under the hot spray and working some 2-in-1 shampoo into his hair that he realized, none of them had the excuse of alcohol to hide behind. He’d been basically sober — at least, as sober as anyone who’s breakfast had consisted of beer and potato chips could be — and he hadn’t smelled anything particularly strong on Skwisgaar or Toki’s breaths. So what did that mean? Shit, what if it happened again?After a moment of silent contemplation, Nathan shrugged and continued washing. As far as he was concerned, his problem was solved. Everyone would still be able to play for the tour, so Offdensen would be pleased, even though this probably hadn’t been what he’d had in mind when advising Nathan to use strength to his advantage. And however things went from this point, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let it fuck up his band.

[lxveille]

like falling water

woozi x reader

word count: ~ 3500 warnings: swearing, physical intimacy / mentions of sex a/n: magic!au; 100 ways to say i love you request

You lower yourself to a crouching position on the bathroom floor, arms folded on the edge of the sink’s basin and gaze fixed on the slowly dripping tap. There’s a gust of wind against the window. A snapping of a branch in the ongoing storm outside. All the while, your eyes stay fixed upon the drops of rivulet of water forming on the metallic lip of the tap, gathering gradually until it weighs enough to begin pulling towards. You narrow your eyes. The muscles in your arms tense when your fingers curl a bit harder against the porcelain.

The water stills. The drop remains suspended, barely clinging to the metal. A small bit of satisfaction begins to bubble up inside of you. Then your concentration is broken by a sudden call of your arm. The droplet detaches and hits the basin below to roll down the drain with a quiet plop that’s impossible to hear over your shouting back of, “Fuck! You scared me!”

Sejeong laughs, half of an apology making its way out while you pull yourself upright again. “I was just gonna ask if you’ve heard from Jihoon yet.”

“No,” you answer in a heartbeat. You avoid her gaze, choosing instead to focus far more intently than needed on the faucet handles as you turn them off all the way. “Why would I have heard from him?”

Really, you don’t have to be looking at Sejeong to feel the look she gives you.

“You know the Voyager’s ritual is today, right?” As if on cue, there’s a rumble of thunder overhead. A rattling runs through the walls from the sheer force of it.

“If I hadn’t, I would’ve caught on by now.” You nod your head towards the window as if to highlight your point.

“So...?” Sejeong lets it hang in the air for a moment, expecting you to fill in the rest of her question. You feign ignorance and shrug. “You really didn’t have anything to say to him today?” Another shrug has her sighing. “Or last night? Or anything?”

“Why do you think I have to say anything to him at all?” you snap. You already know the answer. Though you deny it. “The world doesn’t revolve around apprenticeships and the magehouses alone, you know.”

“I didn’t say it did.  But Jihoon happens to be in the Voyager’s apprentice pool. And promising one, if there’s anything to the gossip Jieqiong brings back. And you --”

“What?” you cut her off and cross your arm. 

She flounders at your tone, failing to carry on her interrupted phrase. Some part of you knows you aren’t being fair. That she’s only asking in the first place because she wants you to do what’s best for you. Sejeong just doesn’t quite understand that’s what you’ve been trying to do all the while.

“That’s Lee Jihoon,” Jieqiong leaned across the picnic blanket laid out in the afternoon sun to tell you. At the time, she’d only recently been apprenticed to the Voyager herself. And spent no small amount of time expressing how she was rather puzzled as to why they were still adding to that apprentice pool when it there was already such a heavy favorite for who the ritual would select as the inheritor of that magehouse.

You followed her gaze across an expanse of the green field to see the presumed protégé. Your sights catch first on the company that he’s with. “Isn’t that Kwon Soonyoung...?” you asked.

“Not him, the shorter one,” Jieqiong redirected your attention.

So you held in your question about when exactly Soonyoung showed back up in town and instead lowered your sunglasses from your eyes to get a better look at Jihoon. He, along with the group he’s come to the casters meet-up, settled into a spot not far from one of the basketball courts in the park. One of them must have said something amusing enough to cause an eruption of laughter. Jihoon had a full-body reaction, twisting away from his friends in a fit of giggles. They came to a stuttering stop when his eyes crossed yours by accident. For a moment, all that occurred to you to do was admire the lingering smile on his face.

Quickly thereafter, you re-positioned your dark lenses back over your eyes and lean back some on the blanket. “He looks nice.” You tried to choose your words carefully.

“He’s alright,” Jieqiong remarked, eying you over suspiciously. “You wanna meet him?” It was phrased as a question, but she already had you pinned.

No amount of denial could stop Jieqiong once she set her mind upon something. She rattled on about how the purpose of the event was for casters to be able to meet as she pulled you to your feet and started leading you through the grass.

Jieqiong took the lead on introductions. You both had the courtesy to act as if you don’t already know Soonyoung’s name and reputation when Jihoon prompted that particular exchange of names.

It was odd, at first. Jihoon didn’t seem all that relieved to have a fellow apprentice approaching him at the event. He didn’t seem off put, either, but he spoke in short sentences and always seemed to be looking for something in the surroundings when the conversation first began. It made you feel as though you were being invasive just by asking if he was having a good time. But with Jieqiong caught up in discussion with his friends, somehow it ended up boiling down to feeling like it was just the two of you.

You pulled out your phone to check the time, or perhaps to try to discreetly send a text to Sejeong to ask her to come save you from the stilted conversation.

“Is that...?” Jihoon started before you could come up with a plan. When you placed his way, you found him peering and pointing towards your lock screen. You had set it to an insignia from the latest superhero series you’d gotten far too invested in a few weeks ago. Your face began to flush, feeling called out. What a silly thing for a caster to be into, you imagined running through his head. You ought to find such things so humdrum with the capabilities you have. With the truths you know of the universe.

You darkened the screen and put the phone face-down on your lap. “Well, I --” You didn’t finish whatever excuse you were going to try to come up with. Cut off by the surprise of a seeing a  surprised kind of smile coming onto Jihoon’s features. (And oh, you liked how he looked with a smile on.)

He put a hand on the grass between where the two of you were sitting, leaning in almost like he had a secret to share. “Who’s your favorite character?” he asked.

You nearly burst out laughing out of sheer relief. Instead you smiled back, a new and mutual understanding passing into the aura between the two of you, and answered.

The conversation flowed from there with enough ease and force that you didn’t notice when Jieqiong started sending glances your way. That it didn’t entirely click when Sejeong showed up and asked Jieqiong if she wanted to go for coffee together. That it took daylight slipping away for you and Jihoon to notice how long you’d been content doing nothing but talking together.

In the end, it was endearing that there was still a tinge of nervousness in his voice when Jihoon asked for your number. As if there were a universe where you could’ve even dreamed of turning him down. If one exists, it certainly isn’t the one you’re experiencing.

Your phone buzzes on the cafe table where you’ve settled down for the afternoon. The rain stopped some time ago, which means firstly that you didn’t have to lug an umbrella along with you. Secondly (more importantly, Sejeong would say) it means the Voyager’s ritual is over. That Jihoon would have news.

Good news, in all likelihood. But news you have decided not to let yourself care about all the same.

Nonetheless, you glance at the caller ID. There’s a familiar picture on your screen. A picture you took of him over a late breakfast at a diner one morning. He looks none too happy to have a camera pointed at him, and despite the scowl in his eyes there is still a slight uptick in his lips; the smallest and the most important indication that he was, in fact, happy to be there with you. The name reads Lee Jihoon.

You stare a while longer as the phone continues to vibrant. It shifts a few inches on the table top. You settle your hand over it -- thumb on one side and ring finger on the other. Two fingers hover over the screen. They’re not in the right place to cover up his name. They are, however, perfectly poised to accept or decline the call.

A small voice nags inside your mind, asking why he’d be calling. It’s not the first time you’ve wondered as much. (Back when it began, the same question would blossom in your head. The possible answers have evolved over time. From pseudo-casual invitations to openly wanting to see you to simply needing to hear your voice at the end of a day. Sometimes his ‘end of day’ is more ‘middle of the night’. Somehow you have never been all that angry at him when you wake up to a ringtone in the dark of your bedroom. His voice has only ever made you want him nearer.) It feels different, though, sitting here and knowing what you do. Why, after a day that surely has changed his life, would he feel compelled to dial your number?

Because he doesn’t think today changes anything for us, you answer back. You call it reason. You know better.

You let the call ring out. Let the photo of him disappear off your screen.

For what must be a solid minute afterwards, all you can do is stare at the darkened screen of your phone. The bright lights hanging overhead in the coffee shop reflect almost perfectly on the black surface, interrupted only by the lingering shadows of your indecisive fingertips.

Lucky your head is far more resolute.

You change your lock screen first. Then you remove the contact photo from under his entry.

The next time your phone buzzes, it’s a text from Jieqiong that reads, “we need to talk”. Before you get a chance to even open up the message properly, a second one comes in. This one makes you pause. It makes something tight and unpleasant began to coil beneath your collarbones.

“The ritual didn’t go as planned.”

It wasn’t a date.

It was the fourth day you hung out with Jihoon following meeting him. But it wasn’t a date. Explicitly so, you insisted to your friends when you texted that you couldn’t join them from an impromptu froyo trip.

“What are you rolling your eyes for?” Jihoon asked from the other side of the couch.

“Just, you know,  Jieqiong -- when she gets an idea in her head,” you answered vaguely, looking up at him from your phone. He hummed in a kind of understanding.

“What is it?”

“Nothing important.”

He accepted it as an answer, gaze shifting back to the television. Yours, however, lingered on Jihoon. Fixated on the mix of sunlight and television’s glow against his skin and upwards angle on his lips, you found yourself rethinking just what the word important meant.

It was your hand that touched his first.

His eyes flitted back to you. A whole host of questions didn’t ever make it out of his mouth; you could practically feel them in the way he scanned you over, and yet he didn’t say a single one. His smile didn’t vanish, either.

He shifted his hand under yours so your palms were pressed together. His pinky, and ring fingers curled around the side of your hand, pressing in gently against your skin. The pressure felt more curious than insistent. There were a few spells that drifted to the front of your mind; things that could clear the air of complications left by the uncertainty of things left unsaid, or things that could ease the feeling of pinpricks at the back of your neck at his touch. In the end, you decided you didn’t want any kind of remedy for this.

“You’re not the kind to lean in first, are you?” You asked him. You didn’t know how much time had ticked by since your hand had found his. The quiet touch had been comfortable, somehow, despite the itching for a bit more beneath it all.

Jihoon’s cheeks turned a shade of pink that made you think of peonies.

“What kind of question is that?” he asked -- caught off guard, but not off-put. His hand stayed where it was, wrapped around your own. You gave a breathy laugh, a warmth rising on your face, and slumped one shoulder into his side.

Looking up at him from your newfound position against him on the couch, you suggested, “We could both. On three.”

At that, it was Jihoon’s turn to laugh. Peonies turned to poppies, and you caught the exact moment his smile turned to a grin before nerves had him glance away. “You’re being weird,” he deflected.

“Probably,” you admitted, and glance back down to your linked hands, “But also serious.”

When your eyes met his again, he somehow seemed even closer than before. “On three?” you asked, your voice so low it was more a puff of air than it was a question.

“Screw that,” Jihoon answered, and proved you wrong by letting his lips fall upon your own first.

You’d never been more glad to be wrong.

Plans can be a tricky thing. Often contingent on assumptions. That’s about all the explanation Jieqiong can muster when you call her from the coffee shop. Planning for the outcome of a centuries old inheritance-selection ritual, she admits, was probably a step even further beyond presumptuous than anyone familiar with magic should be.

“So not Jihoon, then?” you try to clarify her meaning. She sounds exhausted on the other end of the line.

“An alchemist, at that,” she tells you, like it adds insult to injury. (It does, in some ways. Admittedly, Jihoon had never seemed all that caught up in the tension between the branches of magic; certainly less so than many of the others in his coven, at least. He told you once about a covenmate of his who would nearly choose death over an alchemist’s company. All the same, it’s unpleasant to think some forces of nature are turning towards the magic you don’t practice.)

“Are you okay?” you ask her next. Mostly because these things can be dangerous, according to stories you’ve heard. The tone in her voice calls for making sure she’s alright.

She exhales into the receiver on her phone, causing a crackling, windy sound. “I’m fine. Probably going to go take the longest nap I can.”

“Well, then call me when you wake up, alright?” you request. “Sejeong and I can come over with wine.”

That manages to earn a laugh from Jieqiong. She promises she’ll text, at least, and let you know if she’s up to that.

Once she hangs up, it takes you several moments to put your phone back on the table. There’s an icon in the corner of your screen still, indicating that you missed one call.

You don’t want to think about what state he might be in. About what thoughts must be eating away at him. About why he called you.

It was easy and unstoppable after that afternoon on Jihoon’s couch.

Teasing remarks about how they’d seen it coming from day one didn’t even bother you all that much. All the same, you never admitted that you and Jihoon were anything more than friends. No matter the lingering glances anyone caught being exchanged between the two of you or the love bites Sejeong caught you putting foundation over in the morning.

You hardly even admitted it to yourself. Of course, you had to make allowances for something beyond the platonic when there was no one else around. You couldn’t deny that. Not with how quick you were yourself to twine your fingers with his. Not with the way his laughter fanned over your skin as he fumbled with the fastens on your clothes and the mixture of relief, affection and arousal that came into his gaze once he got them off.

It was always in the coming-downs that you felt closest to acknowledging in full what your heart already knew. Wherever it was that the two of you would be, a veil of ease seemed to fall over the two of you after sex that lulled you into a sense of constancy and comfort.

That was when words passed most openly between you and Jihoon. For as much conversation as you were able to have in other circumstances, there was a kind of line neither one of you remembered drawing when it came to discussing your most closely-held feelings. Except in tangles of sheets and with lingering, lazy hands upon each other’s skin, it was much harder to remember what lines even were.

“I’m bad at these things,” Jihoon would often say, before managing to utter something that made your heart beat all too quickly in your chest and drawing the fondest of smiles onto your lips.

But the things you wanted to say to him changed after the Voyager’s upcoming ritual was announced.

You found yourself catching your breath in the afterglow and thinking of the world beyond the two of you. There were expectations set upon him; responsibilities and a surely grueling schedule waiting for him on the other side of the ritual. Things you’d never even wanted to imagine. There were reasons, after all, that you never sought out an apprenticeship. Namely that no amount of specialization and strengthening of magic seemed worth the risk of the weight that would come with being selected as a protégé . But Jihoon had. He’d sought it out -- dedicated almost all of himself to it.

In many ways, you thought it might have been selfish of you to be worried about his future. It didn’t seem possible that it could be a shared future. Or at least not one shared you. Time would be too precious and scarce to allow for it, you assumed.

So lying on your side in the afternoon wearing nothing but a sheet and Jihoon’s arm around your waist, you were tempted to ask him not to go to the ritual. The sun had reached just the right angle to stream in through his window. The direct light spread a reassuring warmth across the back of your neck and shoulders. 

When you asked about the ritual happening in a few days, your were nearly surprised at just how calm your voice sounded. Jihoon’s eyes were closed -- perhaps because of the sun shining on his face -- but he told you what you wanted to know. When it would start. What would be involved. How long it would probably take before the ritual finished and the next Voyager would known.

“It’s important to you, isn’t it?” you asked. Something in your tone must have been more of tell than you thought, because he peeked his eyes open to look you over at that. A small bit of guilt tugged at your gut and made you add, “It’s okay that it is. Obviously.”

Jihoon propped himself up on one arm. The new angle allowed him a better look at you. “It is,” he confirmed, “But you’re important too.”

It was difficult not to smile at that. All the same, there was something deeper rooted in the back of your mind that kept his words from easing your aura. In an odd way, it made your heart sink a bit further. “That’s easier to say now,” you mumbled up at him once you finally placed your finger on the why of it.

“It’s not like the Matchmaker, you know,” he replied, and leaned down a bit to ghost his lips over yours. “I’d still be allowed to have a... personal life.” He chose the last words carefully. With more caution than these moments of intimacy between you both usually called for. (It wasn’t until later that day, when you laid alone in your own bed, that you realized it might have been tied to the fact that whatever there was between you and Jihoon had yet to named.)

You stared at him, trying to find some indication that he doubted his own reassurance to you. Instead, all you saw was the same calm, contented smile you’d grown so fond of.

A decision started then; a quiet but insistent one that started coiling itself around your mind. Being allowed isn’t the same as being able. Just because Jihoon hadn’t realized it yet doesn’t mean you shouldn’t start bracing yourself for when he inevitably would.

The truth is that you know why Jihoon called.

He needs you.

The trouble is that you don’t know if you have it in yourself to be there for him. Not with all the effort you’ve put into convincing yourself you don’t need him.

[mahunkel]

@chloroblast-master replied to your post “chloroblast-master replied to your post: ...”

That's part of the issue tho, is the assumption that non-sam identities are using the sam when they're not. Like heterosexual not using the sam means any exclusively opposite gender attraction, whether it's only romantic, only sexual, or both. Heterosexual when using the sam does mean just opposite gender sexual attraction, but that's not what is being meant when cishet is used. Cisgender heteromantic asexuals and cisgender aromantic heterosexuals are cishet because they Only feel opposite gender attraction

OOOOHHHH, I see what’s going on here. Okay, this is a tricky one to untie, but trust me that at the end of this knot is a single rope, just one that’s been hopelessly fucked up for you, I am assuming by others and not by your own “sittin down and thinkin” time.

So, first of all, and this is actually the most important step to unraveling this Gordian jumble: you don’t get to tell other people how to identify, or what their identities refer to.

I know, that’s a lot of power to take away from a person in one sentence, but trust me, you never had it to begin with, and you’re much better off knowing that fact. When an Ace person says “I am not heterosexual because I do not experience opposite-gender attraction”, then your place is to accept that, not question it, just like when somebody tells you their gender, name, height, or any other fact about themselves. This really is information you need in life, as you go through queer spaces and discourse, as it’s a basic tenet that’s been accepted by, well, everybody (except, it would seem, in discourse on this particular blogging site). The few-and-far-between people who don’t “agree” with this one? We call them “TERFs”, “phobes”, “self-haters”, or more usually just “assholes”, and nobody invites them to events.

Still with me? I genuinely hope so, cause that was just step one.

Secondly, any time in life, as a general rule, when you must play a game of definitions to achieve your desired outcome, you’re just prevaricating, and what you’re saying is nonsense. Again, I am giving you every benefit of the doubt. I highly doubt you came up with any of what you said on your own, chances are somebody you like who seemed authoritative said those things and other people whom you trust agreed with them, and so the formal sort of logic to it allowed you to believe it. Maybe you even feel comfortable identifying as cishet yourself, I don’t pretend to know, but such things are common amongst those who hold self-defeating ideas.

Third, let’s look at the consequences, as if this all weren’t long-settled business irl, of barring any specific queer* identity from queer spaces. Suddenly, you have intracommunity gatekeeping. This makes said spaces unsafe, not just for those being kept out, but for those being kept in as well. It allows any person to have suspicions cast upon them, for fear of being the “wrong kind” of queer. It sets the precedent that one person might have power over another within the community, when they only way it can exist is in total equality. It causes demonstrable and documented harm to those kept out, as they suddenly lack the community that was built to protect and shelter them. It lends credence to those long-discredited theories on the “validity” (or rather, the lack thereof) of other identities in the community (every single letter in the alphabet soup has had this same shit shoveled at it. I remember when it was the L. It’s still the T from a lot of places. The B is periodically buried in it. Nobody even acknowledges the I ever.). The point here is, it would be Very Bad to have as policy.

Fourth, and finally, it’s not about oppression. I know it’s hard to believe, because everybody on this site wants it to be about the specific ways in which people are oppressed, but it really has very little, if anything, to do with oppression. Our community, I mean. Queer identity is not based around the way we are treated by others. That’s looking at it all wrong. Even in a world where there were no homophobia, I would still be gay. In a world without misogyny, I would still be a woman. In a world without oppression, we would still need community, and those communities would still be based around identity, sexual, gender, and otherwise. To imagine that queerness is somehow tied up in the way the outside world treats the queer is to imagine oneself as lacking innate identity, and that just...doesn’t...work. I don’t know how to explain to you that you exist separate from others’ perceptions of you.

So there you go. I sincerely hope you now see that, rather than a mess of separate strands held together by a tangle, we’re all the same rope, winding about itself in myriad ways.

Or maybe not, I dunno, I been talkin about this for way too long now.

*I don’t know if you’re one of those “q-slur” people, but if you are, know there is no other widely-accepted term in English which adequately describes non-cisgender and/or non-heterosexual people without being exclusionary. There just isn’t (despite many valiant efforts, all of which I have been behind wholeheartedly). I get that some people prefer not to ID as queer, and that is their individual right, but the general term applies to the general population.

[embhm]

Chapter 190: GU HAI successfully ESCAPES

NOTE: Do you ever sometimes feel like you’re the only one who likes BL? Ever feel like sometimes you want to discuss the chapter(s) in a more active and dynamic environment? If so, please join us on the “Addicted” chat channel on the LINE app. Also, don’t mind the chattering that tends to happen sometimes, just jump in there and introduce yourself, say hello. If they want to “interrogate” you, feel free to decline if you don’t want to. If you have the LINE app, message Sae (Line ID: duyihan79) or myself (Line ID: alecvise) if you’re interested for a chat invite. Hope to see and talk with more of you guys there.

Once again, I would like to thank Sae for the translation. She and the other translators are working hard to get the translation to us in their free time. I <3 you all. Also once again, please be advised that the “Addicted: The Novel” blog will always update the chapters earlier than on Tumblr. Visit https://addictedthenovel.wordpress.com for up to date postings. <Alec>

NO SPOILERS PLEASE!!!, in the comments or anywhere on this account. We have not finished reading the novel. No copy/paste and all that other shenanigans either. Votes/likes/comments are highly appreciated.

While reading, if available, please read the footnotes at the end of the chapter for clarification.

Translator: Sae            Editor: Alec

As always, THANK YOU for reading and enjoying the journey with our INTREPID boys:

GU HAI & BAI LUO YIN

《你丫上瘾了》

Chapter 190: GU HAI successfully ESCAPES

Acting as if he did not hear anything, Bai Luo Yin remained to the side and continued to speak garrulously without getting to the point. “Before he died, his face was completely purple. His lips were so parched like that of an old dried up tree bark. He kept on crying out miserably: Brother ah, brother ah, I’m really thirsty. My fingers are all broken from being chewed on. I drank my blood dry already...brother ah, brother ah. I’m really hungry. My stomach is stuffed with tree roots and insects from the soil that was dug up. Brother ah, brother ah, I’m really cold. All my toes are all split open, mutilated and bloody……”

Hearing Bai Luo Yin’s dreadful voice, Gu Yang shouted coldly at him to stop, “Don’t take me as Gu Hai. I am not that easily swayed.”

“AHHH!!!”

Bai Luo Yin suddenly screamed without any warning sign at all. His voice was so loud and crisp, that it provoked Gu Yang’s pupils to widen.

“I see Da Hai. I can really see Da Hai. He’s under your bed……”

After saying that, he immediately leaned down at the side of the bed; his upper body scuttled beneath, while his legs and feet remained on top. By then his head had already reached the floor. There was an obvious sound of excitement in his voice that he could not suppress once he spoke again.

“Da Hai, say whatever it is you want to say. I’m listening.”

Suddenly, the veins on Gu Yang’s temple jumped; unable to bear the thought of it, he kicked Bai Luo Yin off the bed.

Even then, Bai Luo Yin continued to speak to the air beneath the bed although no one else was present in the room. The way he spoke was clear, precise and orderly, to the point that it seemed like he actually did hear something. Many of the words used were very sensational, all said for Gu Yang to hear. But, Gu Yang pretended to be deaf. Bai Luo Yin was like an audio recording device, patiently and painstakingly saying those words over and over again.

At long last, Bai Luo Yin successfully tugged at Gu Yang’s supposedly impenetrable nerves and annoyed him. Unable to continue bearing with this tedious behavior, Gu Yang quickly and violently got up and grabbed Bai Luo Yin’s belt, with the intention of hauling him back up onto the bed. But, Bai Luo Yin’s belt loosened and gravity took control by dragging his legs and feet off the bed. Gu Yang’s eyes merely widened as he watched the boy’s entire body slip to the ground, leaving only the belt in his hand.

“Da Hai……I’m here to accompany you. I’ll go with you…” whispered Bai Luo Yin listlessly, his strength dwindling along with his breath.

Looking morose, Gu Yang lugged his body off the bed. He wanted to pull The foolish boy up, however, he quickly noticed that Bai Luo Yin’s body was really stiff. Within seconds, anxiety overflowed his face as he made haste and switched the lamp on. What he saw then was Bai Luo Yin’s sickly countenance, depleted of all colors. His eyes were opened wider than usual while his lips trembled as if wanting to say something but was unable to.

Gu Yang carried Bai Luo Yin onto the bed and quickly called for a doctor to come over. By the time he hung up the call, Bai Luo Yin had already lost consciousness.

“Fuck! I’ve lost to you. You didn’t use this method to keep a hold on Gu Hai, did you?”

Gu Yang stood at the side of the bed at a loss for words, with a dumbstruck expression trickling from the side of his face. Even the wrinkles between his brows seemed to have tightened tremendously. Since the moment Bai Luo Yin requested help from him, he had already decided he would help. As for his unreasonable demands, it was purely out of evil delight.

First of all, he wanted to tease Bai Luo Yin and secondly, he wanted to make him give up and back out of this difficult situation. Only then could he have a smooth and peaceful night of sleep so that he could be energetic enough to go to the military base the next day.

Who would have guessed that in the end, he himself was unexpectedly extorted and wronged by Bai Luo Yin instead!!

=====

Early in the morning, Gu Wei Ting received a call from Gu Yang.

“Uncle, are you at the military base?”

Finding it rather peculiar to hear his nephew’s voice so early, Gu Wei Ting quickly constructed a defensible wall in his mind to guard against any sudden attacks. “I’m here. What’s going on?”

“Oh. I have something I wanted to ask you for help with. What do you think, is it more convenient to meet face to face outside, or should I go to the base?”

“You can come over here.”

After hanging up Gu Yang’s call for just a moment, Sun Jingwei knocked on the door and entered to remind Gu Wei Ting that he has a conference to participate in. He was in the middle of getting ready when the call came through. Now, the car for the conference needed to set off at once.

“Oh, there’s a conference today……” Gu Wei Ting’s fingers tapped the desk, “I’ve forgotten about this matter already.”

Having said that he got up and tidied his things while incessantly massaging his temple with his hand. From the looks of it, his mental state did not seem to be well either.

Sun Jingwei stood at the door, his eyes stared straight ahead on the floor at the center of the room the entire time. When Gu Wei Ting shifted his gaze over, Sun Jingwei turns his head around and feigned a calm expression as if he was aloof.  

For the past two days, Sun Jingwei had been quite obedient and guileless. If there were no urgent tasks, he barely entered Gu Wei Ting’s room. And always upon entering, he only spoke a few words before taking his leave. With each time, never once did he mentioned Gu Hai’s situation.

Just as Gu Wei Ting was about to leave, Gu Yang’s call came through once again.

“Uncle, I’m already at the entrance.”

“I have a conference to attend now. You can stay in the guest room and wait for me for a while. Or, you can go directly to my place and wait there.”

Even after he put his phone away, Gu Wei Ting felt a strange aura hovering over him which left him feeling insecure. So as to give himself a slight peace of mind, he dispatched two more soldiers to guard the door. Then, with a stern and powerful glare, he intentionally exhorted to them a few words using a life-threatening tone.

“He can freely enter or exit, but he cannot leave with anyone. Remember, guard the two rooms on either side well. If something happens, I’ll be looking for you two directly.”

“Understood sir!!!” The two soldiers shouted uniformly.

Gu Yang emerged from a luxurious car, wearing an extremely flashy outfit. He had on a sleek black suit that outlined his slim figure, a hat--definitely an expensive one--an oversized pair of sunglasses and a stern and dignified expression to match his overall appearance…...he leisurely walked over from the distance with much grandeur that the four soldiers on duty thought that he was a famous movie star once they saw him.

After he showed his identification card the four soldiers conceded and allowed him to enter, their eyes brimming with envy and respect.

“Did you see? The General’s nephew is really handsome.”

“His nephew huh? I thought it was his son!” The soldier sighed, “He really looks like him.”

“His son is still studying. When have you seen him dressed like this?”

“That’s true.”

Once he entered the room, Gu Yang did not say anything further. The first thing he did was to immediately tear off this ridiculous looking outfit.

So stupid.

He really wanted to look in the mirror and slap himself hard in the face.

After changing out of his clothes, Gu Yang began to walk about until he finally found a small crack on the floor of the living room. He then carefully and cautiously moved it to the side. He took in a deep breathe and made his way down.

At this point, Gu Hai was already the same color as the earth he lay on. This made it hard to distinguish where his body was which caused Gu Yang to nearly stumble over him.

“Gu Hai……” Gu Yang tried to call out, “Is that you?”

Gu Hai cracked his eyes open and tried his best to focus. After a few seconds, he was finally able to make out who the person was in front of him.

“Why are you here?”

His voice sounds broken when he spoke. Just hearing it nearly made Gu Yang think that he had entered the wrong tunnel.

“Don’t say anything. Come out with me first.”

Gu Hai had been hunger stricken for nearly five days now, but even then, he still has the strength to shove Gu Yang to the side. “Go away, I would rather die than submit.”

This stubbornness, even when in the face of adversity, brought a sense of annoyance into Gu Yang’s already roughed up nerves. He shifted closer again. Although he couldn’t see too clearly in this dark and cramped tunnel, Gu Yang narrowed his eyes, just enough to display his displeasure. His eyes began to well with anger then without warning, he slapped Gu Hai in the face.

“You better fucking behave. Bai Luo Yin made me come.”

A dirty and messed up monkey emerged from the tunnel. It was already impossible to see what his clothes had looked like originally and his face--his defined and well sculpted face--was caked in dirt to the point where it was hard to see his facial features. This kind of appearance would make anyone think of an image of a miner in the aftermath of a mining disaster. The miserable condition of those miners who had suffered for a few days until they were rescued by being lifted out of the debris and into the open air was a great portrayal of Gu Hai at this moment.

“Water,” said Gu Hai as he waved his hand in front of Gu Yang.

Gu Yang quickly brought over a cup of water. He propped Gu Hai up with his arm then fed him several big mouthfuls.

After he finished the water, Gu Hai lay back down on the floor again. His eyes were bloodshot, the surface of his lips was covered entirely with frostbite that refused to leave. Unsurprisingly, it was a ghastly sight for anyone to take in.

Yet, even under this circumstance he nevertheless seized Gu Yang’s hand and incessantly asked, “Where’s Yin Zi? How is he?”

Gu Yang yanked the front of Gu Hai clothes forward as he stared at his cousin, eyes brimming rage.

“Look at the state you’re in and you still have the audacity to think about someone else?”

Gu Hai continued to ask, “Yin Zi sent you with a message for me, right?”

Anger rose from Gu Yang’s stomach and traveled all the way to the sensitive skin at the top of his temple. He fiercely grabbed Gu Hai’s head with his hands and smashed it against the floor. “Is there something wrong with your fucking head? Didn’t I tell you that it’s enough to just play around? Didn’t I warn you not to be so serious? Why didn’t you listen to my words? Why?......” Gu Yang’s yelling immediately stopped. He found no other words to speak.

Upon seeing Gu Hai’s head, that was smashed heavily on the floor earlier, had already started to bleed out, Gu Yang stopped his savage actions. He pulled Hai up and held him tightly against his chest. Never once had a complete sense of fear and heartache appeared so impressively on Gu Yang’s face until now.

“Ge, you’ve said it too late.” Gu Hai calmly started to speak, “You should have said that before I changed schools.”

Gu Yang randomly found some food for Gu Hai to eat so that his stomach was well fed for the time being, then he took him into the bathroom. After taking a bath, all of Gu Hai’s limbs cramped up, leaving him sore and even more tired than he was previously. While putting on the change of clothes, he grimaced in pain from each movement.

“Hurry up and stop wasting time.” Gu Yang urged him repeatedly.

Gu Hai grumbled bitterly, “I also want to be faster, but my arms and legs won’t listen to me at all!”

With a cold face, Gu Yang stepped forward and helped Gu Hai into the entire set of clothes that he had worn previously. Normally, Gu Hai is just a bit more robust than Gu Yang even though their statures were about the same. But, after being tormented for several days, his body had lost several kilograms of muscle. Once he was able to get into the clothes, they fit him perfectly.

Gu Yang passed his hat and sunglasses over to Gu Hai. Looking at it, Gu Hai hesitated for a moment.

“Isn’t it too stupid looking? I’m not wearing it.”

Gritting his teeth, Gu Yang fastened the hat on the stubborn fool’s head.

I’m letting you off easy by not wearing women’s clothes here! I’m not making you lose face yet you still want to be picky!

After changing into the clothes, Gu Hai put the sunglasses on and stood in front of the mirror. He looked almost like Gu Yang when he first entered the base.

“Good enough?” Gu Hai asked.

Gu Yang nodded his head in approval.

Just as Gu Hai was about to open the door, Gu Yang suddenly stopped him. “When you’re walking, keep your pace a bit more steady. Here’s the car key, it’s parked at the side of the street.”

Gu Hai remained silent for quite a while before he suddenly asked, “If I go, what’s going to happen to you? What if my dad asks?”

Little bastard, good thing you still have your conscience. Even at this point, you can still think of me.

”Just go your way, don’t worry about me. I have my own way.”

Finally, Gu Hai gave Gu Yang a grateful look before pushing the door open to leave.

Gu Yang quietly stood waiting at the door for a moment, listening to the movements outside.

As he had anticipated, after Gu Hai walked out, those four soldiers did not have any reaction since the similarity was very high. Even if there was an area that was not quite similar, the sunglasses concealed it. Also, coupled with this overwhelmingly flashy get up, it would make it difficult to doubt this person’s identity.  

Gu Hai then escaped in Gu Yang’s car without a hitch.

After some time, Gu Yang sent Gu Wei Ting a text message: “Uncle, I have something to attend to, I’ll head out first. I’ll come and look for you again when I have time.”

Then he changed into Gu Hai’s clothes. He looked around in the room for a while until he finally found a bundle of rope. Once he completely cleared up the crime scene, he takes a bottle of water and the rope and made his way into the tunnel.

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

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The original novel is written by Chai Jidan.

We do not own any of its content, we are translators and editors.