#It’s just I really like the mobility on some of the dance wings

[fleshbound-feathers]

Angelkin culture is looking at all those nice high quality wings on Etsy shops knowing damn well you can’t afford that

[seithr]

top 5 blazblue character designs

YIPPEE BLAZBLUE

I feel like my tastes are known but I still will take this chance to gush a bit about the characters and design philosophy of em that Ive always been real fond of :)

No particular order here or else I'll be here all night formatting on mobile. More under the cut!

HAKUMEN it goes without saying I LOVE HAKUMEN'S DESIGN SO MUCH. The taloned tabi, the silhouette of wide pants and closefitted shinguards/torso. The faces/eyes scattered across his armour while the face is totally blank—made more unreadable and inhuman by the slats of neck guard. Fox-ears built into the helm shape to feel both animal and mechanical like antennae...and obviously the longass hair to sell the "tailed" look.

I remember reading really early on into liking BlazBlue—I can't remember the source, come maul me if I'm wrong—I read that Hakumen as a character and design was made when Mori was in middle or highschool, the idea of "what is really cool," and much of those ideas stayed. I not only really respect that and think its charming as someone who still likes MY own designs from that time, but, as it turns out, middle schoolers are still right. Hakumen is very cool. Augh. Fucking? Time travelling fox-robot samurai who's here to kill his brother to save him and also himself because his old self wanted to do the same thing for the wrong reason and thay thought disgusts him. Also him and Tsubaki in general make me start to choke (positive). God ok I have four more guys to discuss. Yes i also like Susanoo but I feel like thats a copout, I like that he's both animalistic and brutal martial arts as the God of War. Anyways CONTINUING

VALKENHAYN R HELLSING I will admit that he is an old man in a suit and that speaks to me but that he's one of the strongest beings alive as a old man in a suit ohh. And he's a werewolf ohhhh. Shifting just his body parts to kick and rip with his claws, quickly leaping back and forth between a normal bone-breaking jab or knee or biting and snarling—the dance between raw force and refined precision and a brutal tear's always been sooo cool to see and think about. I also think his ribbon in his hair moving to his wolfy tail is very cute. A man of sharp extremes from refined to flashing his fangs, human and wolf, cool and very cute. I like him :)

TSUBAKI YAYOI her uniform is so nice uruururururugh. Big cape and the way it drapes around her in combat like wings... Her sword and buckler/Izayoi looking so unique for being a "basic sword and shield for the hero"-type of deal! The eye on her hat's always been really striking too—the only "cold" colours being her and her uniforms eyes.....................Sparing a glance at Hakumen's recurring red eyes for no reason here. Knightly angel women and her flower-like "tassets" hanging off her clothes. Its a uniform which plausibly feels like it could be a uniform—she doesn't have anything uniquely "hers" or "for this female character" while still being really standout and clean. Her design's just really good guys. You can do so much.

Really want to mention her masked look too at least really quick here. my girllllll...

RAGNA THE BLOODEDGE well of course I really like his design. Yeah him being here is partially obligation because I love his character a lot but both things inform each other in the end. Mr Grim Reaper, Enemy of the World, red-and-black with a demon's arm on one side and a rebuilt one on the other. His big red coat and the oversize shoulders! The massive baggy pants—I love the silhouette he has. Blood Scythe/Aramasa/His sword transforming and able to clack around and shift's just. Always been such a cool design. Seithr-powered man, devil-smoke powered man, ashes of your own old dead self-powered man. Ragna is fucking cool auauauuuaghrhg.

And it DOES only make it more charming that he has a good heart, has a bit of a Kicked Puppy charm about him if you can pardon uhh that implication. He is just some fucking guy and he likes barbecues. He is sweet and cares for stray cats. His dad is a cat. He blows up the government regularly. He's a rebel who visually looks really clean if "intentionally trying to look like someone you should think is cool", which is both dork-charming and cute and also actually yeah cool because it's not a visual mess.

I like that his arm underneath is all belts and bandaged—Bloodedge only wearing half his coat for example is such a good look and it shows his clean black shirt underneath, which feels a lot like... Under that big eyecatching rebel coat of his (personality), Ragna's... Ragna, I don't know. I hope that makes sense. Knowing his personality makes me like his design a lot more than if I didn't I think.

As mentionned in Hakumen's block of text however: I already really like chuuni-ass designs, so combined in Ragna he makes me unwell entirely.

And last (I am running out of images allowed per post :((((( )

Kitty peepaw. I am cheating slightly here. I like the Kaka Kittens' big hoods too and think they're very cute and very eyecatching and I adore them always—the kittens especially being stompy little things that travel in packs are really cute. I love that Jubei, actual strongest thing in the world, has the oversized paw sleeves too. There's cat claws bigger than his body stored in what looks like emo kids' oversize hoodie sleeves. He's so simple and still the imagery of that coat gets reused several times over and it looks good every time. Orange kitty peepaw. AND he has an eyepatch, how can I not like eyepatches.

There are my 5 favourite BlazBlue designs :> Sorry if them all being C series or smth is boring wauh. I can spend as long as I want thinkinh about it but I do always seem to come back to these guys, give or take one change depending on the mood. Unchanging faves are Hakumen and Tsubaki for sure and forever though.

[eternally-daydreaming]

even when i don’t feel whole, i am enough

With Pete, Vegas begins to heal.

• this one's for you, wren 🫶🏻🤍

━━━━━ ━━━━━ ━━━━━ ━━━━━

The moon taught me

there is beauty

in darkness too, that even when

I don’t feel whole

I am enough.

***

For a while, Vegas floats in some intangible plane of existence. He isn’t really there, though, not consciously. 

His mind is, for once, clear of any thoughts—worries anger desire pain despair—as his soul is carried along, ping-ponging between life and death. 

And then all at once, he’s falling, hurtling towards…he doesn’t even know. All he knows is that there’s something pulling him down, down down down, he’s racing towards the bottom, any second now he’s going to crash into it—

Vegas wakes up.

His eyes stay closed as awareness begins drifting back in. Either it’s daytime or the lights are on judging by the faint glow coming through his eyelids. He’s resting on something soft, half-sitting up with his back propped against what feels like mounds of stuffed linen. There’s a rhythmic beeping off to his right, the muted sound of footsteps walking around him. Then the footsteps stop, as if hesitating, before his left side dips a little as someone sits next to him. 

Vegas opens his eyes. 

It’s Pete, Pete sitting on the bed, frozen before him, brown doe eyes rimmed red as they stare at each other. Time stretches for what feels like hours, although it could’ve only been seconds.

Vegas feels his bottom lip wobble, and that’s all it takes for Pete to envelop him in his arms as they weep into each other’s shoulders.

(“I almost lost you,” Pete will shakily whisper to him later, when their voices are hoarse and the sky outside is dark. “I had just gotten you back, and you were nearly ripped away from me. I…I’ll never be able to forget it, the way you just crumpled to the ground…” 

Pete’s voice will trail off at the end, breath catching in his throat, and Vegas will wordlessly tighten his grip around the other man. He will squeeze his eyes shut, the echoes of four gunshots booming in his ears.)

.

.

.

It takes nearly three weeks for Vegas to regain a fraction of his mobility after suffering major trauma to his abdomen. He can only really shift on the bed a few centimeters at the start, before his body erupts in flames and he’s hissing in pain. Gradually he’s able to sit up and lay down, albeit slowly with help from Pete, and soon after that he’s standing and walking around carefully with Pete’s arm curled protectively around his waist.

He had tried moving after a week of being bedridden due to his injuries, even though he knew damn well his body wasn’t ready yet. Maybe it was because he just wanted to prove a point. Prove it to who, well…Vegas didn’t know.

He managed to stand up next to the bed, though it involved a lot of cussing, wincing, and pained gasps. He’d been about to try taking a step when the door to his room opened and Pete caught him in the act. 

Pete took one look at him weakly standing up before leveling him with a severely unimpressed look.

“Walk then,” he had said, jerking his chin towards Vegas. “Come on, walk towards me. I bet you can’t even take a step.”

Vegas doesn’t even complete one step before pain forces his body to buckle in on itself. Pete catches him in his arms before he can hit the floor.

It takes another three weeks for doctors to deem him healed enough to go home and finish his recovery there. For the entire six weeks he’s in the hospital, Vegas clings to Pete whenever he can, though it’s worse when he tries to sleep, when the dark and quiet of night tortures him with visions and sounds of getting shot.

Only with Pete next to him, their bodies nearly touching from forehead to toes, does the torture cease.

.

.

.

It’s the first night home—in a faraway wing of the minor family compound—when Vegas gasps awake in the middle of the night.

Flashes dance behind his eyelids, loud bangs echoing in his ears as his heart threatens to beat right out of his chest. He goes to get up, to get some fresh air on the adjoining balcony, and notices his hands are shaking.

Vegas stands there for a long while, leaning over the railing and watching the trees sway in the wind, the moon painting their shadows. Eventually he hears rustling, then feet pounding against the floor as they race towards the balcony. Towards him.

The footsteps stop just short of the doorway, as if hesitating, before they come closer. Vegas feels the remaining warmth from sleep radiating off Pete’s body.

“You weren’t in bed,” Pete murmurs. Vegas hears his underlying words: you weren’t clinging to me, and that’s not like you. “What’s wrong?”

Vegas sighs, shoulders slumping with the weight of the world on them, heart twisting in his chest.

Volume near-silent, Vegas voices the thoughts that have ravaged his mind since he woke up in the hospital. “What I can offer you, and what I feel toward you, are two totally different things.” 

Pete doesn’t say anything in response, so Vegas turns his head to risk a glance. The other man simply gazes back at him, head tilted to the side in thought.

“What do you feel towards me?” Pete asks. A gust of wind billows by, ruffling his sleep-mussed hair.

It comes out soft and featherlike. “I adore you, Pete. I want to protect you, I want to have you here for as long as you’ll want me…I want you happy and smiling because it’s what you deserve. I feel how much I love you. All these things I feel, they threaten to suffocate me everyday because they’re so intense.”

Pete tilts his head the other way. “What can you offer me?”

Vegas growls under his breath, frustration bursting at Pete’s steady tone, the care in his voice. How can he care about Vegas, after everything that’s happened? “Pain, despair, darkness, a pathetic excuse of a man—”

Suddenly Pete snarls, “Don’t listen to that voice inside your head,” and Vegas shuts up instantly. 

His face, his tone, softens then, brown eyes imploring. “Listen to mine.” He reaches out and laces their fingers together, even though Vegas’s are cold and Pete’s are warm. “The things you feel towards me, are the things you can offer me. They are one and the same.”

Sobs climb up Vegas’s throat, wrap around his windpipe, choking him. Tears burn in the corners of his eyes. He shakes his head, voice cracking on his words. “I’m so sorry, Pete. I’m a mess, you shouldn’t have to deal with this—"

“Hey, shh,” comes the soft whisper of Pete’s voice. Never once letting their fingers untangle, he steps closer and embraces Vegas, forehead to shoulder. “I’m here because I want to be, Vegas. I’m here with you, everything’s alright now.”

Vegas sobs brokenly, fingers clenching around Pete’s where their hands are trapped between their bodies. “But i-it’s not—I’m not okay.”

“You will be. We both will.” Pete’s fingers squeeze around Vegas’s where their hands are encased by their hearts. “I promise you.”

The nighttime wind breezes gently past, the moon casting its soft light, as if both are coming down to speak to them.

You will heal, they whisper. You are enough.

━━━━━ ━━━━━ ━━━━━ ━━━━━

Available on AO3

Collection Masterlist

[amphiptere-art]

So this is a lore dump for one of my AUs. A lot of this stuff will be copy paste when I get the AU character art done. But it'll also have important information about the storylines. So unless you want a extra info on my AUs or I just haven't done anything with them. Don't look.

Here's the only character art I have of this AU.

so in response to the animatronics acting "quirky" fazco asks a outside manufacturer to build a robot that would tend to the animatronics without human mechanics needed, Also to save costs. But the outside company did not want to make the coding leaving that to fazco. Fazco being lazy decided to simply take some old mechanic notebooks and scan them into the new animatronics software. And of course those old mechanic notebooks are literally just notebooks of dead mechanics who died inside the pizza plex. So when Ralph the repair dragon wakes up he's got three other consciousness that he can't lead to any external code except for those notebooks.

Mechanical medic

Little bit about the spirits and how they work. they're a mix between code and spirit. All that they are is only what was written on the pages and how and who they died to. Meaning there personality is only interpreted by how they wrote how they acted in their writings and who they are when they were within the pizza plex. Slowly with more time passing they become more like separate personality codes than spirits. Although the memory of their death will always haunt them.

Ralph of course decides not to worry about the "code" as long as it's not malicious. The Three spirits marked in my works as red blue and hazel although their names will simply follow the Y/N strategy. Being first name, last name, middle name. Of course talking there brains off about the fact that they died. Ralph course gets introduced to the pizza plex as a "walking attraction". More importantly a dancing dragon.

Ralph is built with a lot of features to care for the animatronics. Other than the Gurnee/stretcher like stomach cavity built specifically for animatronics. Which can do small repairs. He has some things I've been calling his "hands" although many people in the pizza plex would just call them his "dragonlings". They are six small music man size animatronics with taser/grabbing arm. They are designed to go get animatronics from areas that Ralph cannot go into. These little guys are able to lift up a Freddy and drag him out of his green room if necessary. Ralph also has two highly Mobile appendages that are hidden as his wings. But are in fact similar to those car manufacturing arms. As the fabric that makes up his wings can be tucked away so he can use those hands. Ralph also due to his large size has been given a stronger cable system not only to embellish his dragon-like qualities but to be able to move quickly throughout the pizza place without endangering patrons. He's of course built with entertainment qualities like a flamethrower in his mouth. And his tail is considered a safe rideable part of his casing although riding his back is strictly prohibited due to the wings.

Ralph, after the meet and greet goes to his personal mechanic a man who currently goes unnamed. Although has always been in my brain he's fairly young and inexperienced. Ralph talks about the other personalities (the spirits) and although checking software they both determined that it must be the scanned in notebooks that are embellishing themselves more than they should. Ralph and his personal mechanic decide that it is not something to worry about and that as long as the information is guaranteed to help Ralph they are allowed to stay.

Another thing about the spirits because they are technically also treated as code. They also only really speak when either Ralph wants input or in situations where dealing with animatronics brings back a certain spirits memories. Basically the spirits cease to exist under certain circumstances. Although over time they can also act as emotional outputs for Ralph such as when he's angry red will act up or if he's solemn blue will act up. Technically Ralph, red, blue, and, hazel can all be talking about the same topic at relatively the same time and it comes out as a coherent sentence. Example ("what do you mean you haven't had maintenance in months! That's so dangerous what if you had a breakdown mid performance. As funny as that might sound it's a very bad idea. You are receiving maintenance right, now.") Red is always harsh. Blue is always cautious or soft. Hazel is always joking or lightning the mood. Randy is very to the point.

Randy of course as soon as he's able to walk around the pizza plex freely goes to the animatronic who has had the longest time without maintenance. AKA Sun and Moon. Sun and Moon in this AU were the first to be infected. And the virus makes it so animatronics do not wish to go do maintenance. The virus also works a little differently. It works more as a blackmail than it does as a controlling virus. While the virus can control a body it would rather the participant do it for them. The rabbit of course acting as the punisher for not listening. Sun and Moon refer to the rabbit as "her". sun of moon of course do not want maintenance and Ralph is having none of that. Ralph uses his "hands" to secure sun and take him to the cylinder for maintenance. (This is also a area where he uses his "hands" for the keyboard.) And begins a forced routinely check. Luckily for sun and moon routinely checks do not scan the code so they do not have to worry about Ralph finding the virus. Although it does occur in Ralph doing a cleaning of their casing and endo.

After this untimely event the rabbit as Vanessa tries to do some "maintenance" on Ralph. The spirits inform Ralph that it's a bad idea. Ralph refuses maintenance from Vanessa and therefore avoids getting the virus. Vanessa tries to state that she has authority to do so but since Ralph is a very specific animatronic He's able to say that he is only allowed to have maintenance done by his primary maintenance official. Plus he is made to perform self-maintenance. Given that his "hands" are separate from his body they can do this easily. The rabbit tries to convince his maintenance official to give him the "upgrade" but then again he refuses due to Ralphs newness. Plus Ralph tells him beforehand.

After this shenanigans basically happen. Ralph Chase's moon around. Fights Monty. Catches chica eating trash. Probably has a talk with Freddy. Ralph convinces Sun and Moon to walk around with him as a part of his moving attraction. Lots of random little events. But Randy does slowly learn that something is happening. Like I said the virus acts more as a blackmail. So Randy and his spirits start to notice that some things the animatronics are hiding. Conversations will be cut sort, certain things will be ignored, and anything concerning coding or rabbits will be strong discouraged. And due to not having the virus he sees the rabbit. All of this ends up with Ralph demanding an explanation. When the animatronics refuse Ralph decides to go after the rabbit.

Ralph then scares the crap out of the rabbit. He chases the rabbit around the entire Pizza Plex until the rabbit hops in its hole. Ralph stops at the hole being too big and gives up his chase. Unfortunately this also causes the other animatronics to freak out. Punishment through the virus is assured and given. The animatronics after this become extremely hostile towards Randy and it's this that causes Randy to finally trap Moon and run a virus scan. Of course he finds a virus. The virus of course is really really strong and really really hard to break. But Randy has three mechanics on his side and slowly they are able to decrypt the virus.

Around the time they do decrypt the virus The Time the game starts happens and Gregory appears. Gregory of course still runs for his life and believes also that Ralph is infected Freddy is also infected in this timeline. around the time Gregory goes to the daycare Ralph finishe his decryption and goes to the daycare as at this point the daycare attendant has become their closest friend. Halfway through Moon trying to murder a child he comes in, breaks the door, and absolutely yeats moon. He then picks moon up and shoves him into his chest cavity and invites Gregory to jump on his tail and get the hell out of there. Gregory stumped and fearful does us hes told. Once they return to the cylinder Ralph decrypts the virus in moon and sun system and releases them from its grasp. Sun and Moon don't realize it as first. like I said acted more as blackmail. But soon they calm down and start fretting over Gregory. Gregory the fearful and angry child that he is refuses to let Sun and Moon touch him. The story then progresses much like the game but instead of destroying them it's to get them to a point where Randy can secure them. Although damage is still done to their systems in the process. Once all the animatronics are freed. Randy and the spirits are furious at the rabbit. And unfortunately get separated from Gregory. The rabbit kidnaps Gregory and attempts to hurt him but with the help of Sun and Moon and the others locate him before any terrible damage can be done. This of course being the endangerment of a child. Mixed in with the other spirits that rest in the pizza plex's walls. Randy and his spirits go absolutely haywire and Chase the rabbit down. And this time they aren't trying to hold an interrogation. This time they're doing for murder. Using their flame thrower in a blind rage they run around the pizza place and burn everything while chasing the rabbit. The rabbit then goes down their hole but at this point Randy is not stopping. He digs through the ground finds the blob and William. And burns them also. Vanessa at this point has also died. Once Vanessa and William die Randy is able to get out of his stuper and realize his mistake. He runs back up and at this point sun and moon have corralled everyone into the daycare. But due to their coding they cannot leave. The reason they are in the daycare is cuz sun is stuck in there. Randy's like "well I don't have that coding. I got that out of my system days ago." He then takes all the animatronics on his back, tail, and, stomach compartment. Uses his advanced cable system to lift them up into the air and rams through the wall. The other animatronics a course go offline once they leave the building but Randy stays online. Once the police arrive they send the animatronics to the company that made Randy. This company (although not as good in the coding department) takes in the animatronics and is able to do maintenance on them. Randy then rearranges their code and the story ends.

[vapemaster42069]

Hello there I’m brainrotting about Empires here you go:

(Ignore formatting this is pasted from my notes and html doesn’t like mobile lol)

### HEADCANNONS YEAAAAH BABAY:

Jimmy is a yellow chickadee bird hybrid. He often gets cold, and can be found huddled in random people's bases, wrapped up in blankets, in the winter. Sausage knitted him gloves to help him keep warm, and although he jokes about them, he really treaures the gift. He won't wear them, though, because he might get them dirty. Joel woun't ever admit it, but he likes his hugs because his coverts get all fluffy and ticklish. When Jimmy is annoyed, his wings get all floofy around his ears and shoulders, like a really soft porcupine.

Pix has babysitting duty when Hermes can't go to Lizzy's. They usually cause minor amounts of chaos, doing random things like rotating every piece of furniture in Scott's house five degrees counterclockwise.

Jimmy will never admit it, but he eats sawdust. Scott will never admit it, but he supplies it. Sausage knows about all of this. He doesn't question it. He offers Jimmy his wood sometimes as a better option.

Joey can't swim.

fWhip makes the best cookies, and he usually has a supply as a back-up for when he runs out of trading materials. He can be seen trading his chocolate-chip cookies for full shulkers of moss and copper. He has a pet chicken named Henny, whom he gets the eggs from. She hates almost everyone. Hermes once had a 2-hour staring contest with her, with the most intense eye contact anyone on the Empires server had ever seen. Bets were made. Friendships were made and broken. Sausage and Joel got married, then divorced again. Hermes won. Oli went further into debt. Pix got richer. Jimmy called Hermes stupid and Sausage and Joel stabbed him.

Scott's black market began as a way to convince people to get his wood instead of Sausage's wood. It didn;t work.

Gem is colorblind. She drags one of her neighbors over to help her judge her copper's aging and different block pallettes.

Joel is 11'1, but he doesn't say that, because it's funner to just say he's 11 ft. He can palm Tiny Tim's head like a basketball. One time, when they were filming and Timmy insulted Hermes, Joel just grabbed his head like a baseball and lobbed him 20 ft in the air, clear over the Lore City walls and all the way into the central fountain.. They had to stop filming for the day because Joel laughed so hard he punched himself in the face, resulting in a back eye.

fWhip learned how to use a bow so he could enchant it with Flame and set spiders in his base on fire.

Scott doesn't know how to tie his shoes. He passes the velcro off as fashion. Only Hermes questions this.

False eats raw eggs.

Joey knows a wide variety of sea shanties, and he's been teaching them to Oli one by one, in exchange for learning how to dance. Oli is trained in all kinds of dancing, from waltzes to square dancing (for some reason), and happily obliges.

Pix can speak Spanish. He has not mentioned this to Sausage.

Sausage and Joel are divorced, but not in an "I hate you" way, more in a "oh, we'e just bros and got confused with all the bromance" way. They regularly get married and divorced again for the bit.

It's rumored that Hermes was born the way Hephastus was. Joel has not adressed this. Sausage has been sworn to silence under threat of No More fWhip Cookies, and will neither confirm nor deny.

Sausage blushes violently, in every definition of the phrase. He both looks like a tomato and starts jumping on people who point it out. Joel likes to fluster him for this reason.

Lizzy hates tomatoes.

Oli still doesn't know how to string his lute. He makes Scott do it. Scott does not play the lute. Joel calls it a "little bitch guitar" when they're not filming.

Oli says he's a speakeasy, and takes pride in sneaking alcohol around the server. No one has told him that it isn't banned yet. There's a betting pool for how long it'll be until he figures it out.

### OTHER THOUGHTS::

I just realized that I think Joel canonically slept with Sauusage's father. why is this canon.

jUST. tHE wHOLE KERALIS thing is so. why.

The fact that the Hermits rely so heavily on the value of diamonds, but are operating in a barter system, is going to fuck up their economy so badly man. As long as there isn't a publically-accepted or regulated agreement on the stored value of money, it's not an effective medium of exchange. oddities Shall Ensue. I hope they do it early-america style where each state issues their own non-gold-backed paper money that is impossible to exchange and irregular in value. Excellent. I want to see a legitimate foreign exchange market. And also chaos because I think it's funny. Same energy as actually sueing someone in small-big claims court in minecraft. I want one of them to become an accountant. Start selling bonds. Establish an international trade system. Can you tell I fucking love foreign relations pls look into them they're so interesting i swear jus-

### MUSIC TIME MUSIC TIME:

Joel "Tall, Handsome, and Sexy" Smallishbeans: [Zephyrus](https://open.spotify.com/track/2gA7W4DUxVd2tzBN6LVaeI?si=761de59a10ec4211) by the Oh Hellos, [In a Week](https://open.spotify.com/track/5F55SiWwEEytk6vsQXHxQW?si=25980c403d754566) by Hozier. I like to imagine he's some almighty god who never really fit in with the other gods, but he's not sure he wants to fit in with humans either. Slowly, he's discovering a new home among the mortals, letting down the facade of imvulnerability and letting some of his repressed humanity out. He's torn between the person his godly family wanted him to be, and the person he wants to become (jerwee mutuals Gillion he's like Gillion im talking abou-).

Timmy "Not a Toy" Solidarity Gaming: [Where is My Mind](https://open.spotify.com/track/2AsIm3Hr3GS4P4nntYSs2Q?si=b86abbb1887f41f7) by Nada Surf, [Haven](https://open.spotify.com/track/0bndF6tTweNXPjwpPL7Slt?si=e84daa7cc5444ef9) by Novo Amor, [I Exist I Exist I Exist](https://open.spotify.com/track/0nO25NiPrKX64oy7lz5ZaJ?si=4b83b182df5242f9) by Flatsound. I love the headcannon that, in order for a toy to continue living, at least one person must believe they're a real (ykwim) person. This season has consisted of Jimmy trying so hard to believe in himself... but how long can he convince himself of he's not lying? It doesn't help that Joel keeps pestering him, but he can't tell him about his problem because the belief can't be from obligation. He's slipping. He can't keep his authority, can't keep his sanity, can't convince his friends he's a real person no matter what rules he puts in place. Because, he thinks, that's what humans do, right? They subjugate and lie and control. He finds he may not like being a person as much as he thought.

Oli "I Can Play the Guitar" Orionsound: [All These Things that I've Done](https://open.spotify.com/track/5vollujufHY0jMZxx77VWr?si=de83808fed054e60) by the Killers, [Immer Noch Hier](https://open.spotify.com/track/4dJ0Dfq2nPmQX0gTOtITal?si=edf5dcb9e843427a) by JORIS

Mythical "Wood Daddy" Sausage: [A Contracorriente](https://open.spotify.com/track/2XBzPGUfiHG9xBGBuuKHwk?si=4b8f73907ad142da) by Alvaro Soler y David Bisbal. [Ash In The Sun](https://open.spotify.com/track/5GCVqaPokLlyUp9QiTidpU?si=652f87ba9db4493c) by Vundabar. I really like the idea that he exists as a paradoxical servant/defier of the gods. Like, he wants so badly to seperate himself from the divine, but no matter where he runs, it follows him. Hell, he even has a child with one. He's a semi-normal guy who keeps being ripped between dimensions, times, and identities, playing so many individual roles for everyone that he doesn't know which one is really him anymore.

If you ship c!Smallishbeans/c!Sausage this makes it more interesting too. One god who doesn't want to be one but is in denial, and overcompensating his divinity as a result, and one dude who's fed up with being dragged into the gods' business and doesn't know what he wants anymore because the gods took even that from him. They have a child together. They live apart. How fitting it is, that he's named Hermes, after an old-world god, but he's human.

I'm all for the bromance hc but like. This^ is great too lol. I'm a sucker for tragic romance.

[your-divine-ribs]

I’m With the Band Part 8

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I’m With the Band Masterlist Main Masterlist

There's an air of excitement over breakfast the next morning, and it's not just the loaded glances that me and Johnny share over the cereal boxes.

Larry has his mobile phone out on the table and it vibrates with a message every few minutes.

"For goodness sake Larry, can't you put that away whilst we're all eating?" My aunt sounds exasperated.

"But mam, it's Reading and bloody Leeds!" Larry exclaims. "Everyone's buzzing for it! First the UK tour, and now this. The band are gonna hit the big time, I just know it!"

"And what are you going to do then if they do?" My aunt says, a serious expression on her face. "Are you going to go and get yourself a proper job?"

"I've got a proper job!" Larry protests, and then he goes into great detail about his role in the band and how important he is, not that my aunt's listening. She's tutting and rolling her eyes, much to Larry's consternation.

"Don't worry son, I think you do a fabulous job!" My uncle says, giving Larry an affectionate slap on the back.

I catch Johnny's eye across the table and he shoots me a huge grin which I return and a warm glow spreads through me. What's wrong with me? I never let guys get under my skin and now here I am, exchanging secretive smiles and blushing like a silly school-girl!

I need to be careful of this one I think, looking down at my cup of tea.

Johnny and Larry disappear soon after breakfast on 'important band business' and I resolve to spend the rest of the day pampering myself ahead of the Manchester gig.

To be honest, even though the whole indie band boy thing really attracts me, I've never been much into going to gigs. The idea of dancing in a sea of sweaty bodies and being pressed up against someone's armpit at the barrier doesn't really fill me with excitement, but I suppose I need to show willing if I'm going to try and get invited on tour with the lads.

I rifle through my wardrobe but everything just looks too dressy, and as for my shoes? I like to impress but the thought of getting my Louboutin heels scuffed makes me feel nauseous. Also I'd be likely to break my neck if I got caught up in a mosh pit. I hate to admit it but I really need to tone it down for tonight.

The good news is my dad has topped up my allowance, and thankfully my aunt has a free day so she agrees to takes me into Liverpool city centre for a shopping spree. Llandudno's High Street just doesn't cut it unfortunately.

"Come on Bells. You ready? All the lads are waiting for ya!"

I'm just finishing applying little wings to my eyeliner when Larry knocks on my bedroom door.

"You can't rush perfection!" I shout out to him, standing back and appraising myself in the full-length mirror.

I had the best intentions of buying purely casual clothing, but something just doesn't feel right when I'm not dressed to kill. I've opted for a skin-tight low-cut tiny black dress which I dress down a little by throwing a denim shirt on top. I finish off the outfit with some fishnets and the docs that I bought grudgingly when I'd asked the shop assistant for some advice on footwear.

I'd cringed at the idea of wearing them rather than my signature heels, but actually, now I'm all dressed up with my make-up just right and my long hair cascading down my back in soft waves I've got to admit I do look the part.

The boys certainly agree. Well... Van in particular is very vocal in his appreciation. Johnny's a little more subtle with a small smile and a modest compliment, which Benji echoes. Bob doesn't say a word after greeting me, but the surreptitious glances he snatches at me make me smile to myself. He's definitely checking me out.

"What the hell? I'm not getting in that!" I wrinkle up my nose as Van grasps the back door handle of a huge white transit style van that's sitting on Larry's driveway.

"Come on Bella! It's not that bad. We've been around the whole country in this. Slept in it and everything!"

I imagine going on tour with the boys in a week's time. Them coming off stage, drenched in sweat and in dire need of a shower, bedding down on sleeping bags in the back of the van. Me lying there, sandwiched between their clammy, stinky bodies. When I envisaged getting hot and sweaty with the boys it wasn't quite what I had in mind.

Benji steps forward to slide his bass guitar case into the back and then turns to me with a smile. "Don't worry, this isn't what we'll be travelling around in next week! We have actually got a proper tour bus booked for that. And we've got a hotel booked in Manchester for tonight. We're only travelling down in this for tonight as the crew are meeting us there."

"Yeah, of course, we wouldn't expect Princess Bella to rough it!" Larry sniggers.

"Princess Bella? I love it!" Van laughs loudly, whilst I glare daggers at Larry.

"Got a massive suite booked for tonight!" Van carries on enthusiastically, using his hands to demonstrate the grand scale. "Wait till ya see it. It's gonna be dead posh. I've already bagged the master bedroom..."

He sidles over at that point, draping an arm over my shoulder and grinning cheekily at me. "Bet the bed's gonna be huge... plenty of room for sharing!"

I steal a glance at Johnny who quickly looks down, fiddling with the fastenings of his guitar case. I side-step quickly away from Van.

"Perfect - there's plenty of room for Larry to share with you then!" I announce.

When we arrive at the venue I'm astounded to see a hoard of fans waiting outside and a queue snaking itself around the outside of the building. I'd not thought for one minute that the band would be so well-known. A little spark of pride lights inside me as we all clamber out the van and immediately hear the fans start to call the boys' names. The girls all seem to be going crazy over Van in particular and it's really not hard to see why. Despite him annoying the hell out of me, I can't deny how gorgeous he is. He stands there waving at the crowd with a dazzling grin, positively glowing as he basks in their adoration. I find myself automatically moving towards him and snaking an arm around his waist. Seeing all these girls losing their shit over him has suddenly made his attractiveness increase a hundred-fold.

"See that Bella?" He says, wonder in his voice. "This is what it's all about. Making music for the fans. Look how excited they are!"

"I didn't realise there'd be so many, there must be hundreds of people here," I say in awe.

"Venue holds 4000 and we've almost sold out," Van says proudly. "Not bad for saying we've not officially released any music yet, eh?"

Some crew from the venue appear and start unloading all the lads' equipment and Benji, Larry, Bob and Johnny all disappear inside, but I hold back, lingering near Van. I can feel the eyes of some of the female fans burning into me with envy and I'm thoroughly enjoying the sensation.

"So how did you get so popular then?" I want to know.

I can see Van practically puffing his chest out as he talks, eager to talk about his band and their increasing popularity.

"We've worked so hard for this, we've not taken any shortcuts. Me and the lads would be out the night before a gig putting flyers up all over town, and then we'd go to festivals and stick CDs of our music under everyone's windscreen wipers in the car park. We turned up at one university campus dressed as ninjas! We just piled out the van, hooked up to a generator and started playing! Shit like that gets you noticed... and of course the music's class!"

"Well... we'll see about that," I say, impressed by his obvious passion but not wanting to show it.

Van looks surprised. "You've still not listened to us?"

"Thought I'd wait until I heard you live. See what all the fuss is about!"

Van grins and grabs hold of my hand tightly, urging me to follow him into the venue. "Well Princess Bella... you are definitely in for a treat!"

I make a show of rolling my eyes but my insides are actually teeming with excited butterflies. I glance back at the fans before I duck inside, shooting them a smug smile.

[murmursdraconic]

◓◓◓◓

Pokemon TED Talk [Accepting]

"Havoc was actually not caught by me." Shay gestures to the black and red Haxorus. "She was a trade from another trainer who just wasn't the right match for her. I don't trade my Pokemon often but it was one of the few times I made an exception. The Pokemon's health is more important of course. She grew fast and she doesn't let me leave her anywhere unless regional rules say otherwise. She's too tough to stay sitting down if the fight is dire. She's stood up to..."

A pause. An uneasy feeling. "... the worst things imaginable, kept us all safe. I'm really proud of her, couldn't ask for a better Haxorus. She's a big fan of karate and kung-fu movies, even stayed at the Saffron Dojo for a month so she could learn from some of the best. She was thrilled when we met Choros. Those two are best friends."

There was a sleepy, shiny Tyranitar taking a snooze on the ground. "Riuda is... the most gentle mountain mover I've ever met. Loves to sleep, doesn't make a ton of noise if she doesn't have to. Adore's smaller Pokemon and has the patience of a babbling brook. She doesn't mind if I pitch a tarp with her as the anchor.

"Granted, she can and does get vicious. Don't test her or she will take you the fuck apart. She tore herself out of her shell to beat up my ex and he wasn't worth a cent. Riuda motivated is a deadly Pokemon. She's stopped cave-ins, caused them, rerouted entire mountain paths in case of landslides... all nothing for her."

"Then my second Pokemon I ever officially got..." There was Riptide, a big Feraligatr with a heart of gold and jaws of titanium.

"He's a great mobility assistant Pokemon. Whenever people ask how patient with Pokemon I am, I use him as an example. Twin ankle breakings because he wanted to chew on my shoes while I was napping."

Riptide looks a bit guilty but it's not like they haven't done this song and dance before. "He's learned his own jaw strength now though. Will only go full rip and tear if I say so. Or if I'm properly fucked up. Granted they will all do that if they see me as such. Granted he's a little too fond of asking to do the 'Play Dead' trick."

"Then there is Asharas." The big, tall and lanky black and red Charizard with a blue bandana tied around her arm. "I hatched her from an egg in a stream. She was not a healthy Charmander. We didn't even think she was shiny. We just thought she was too pale. Mom and Dad weren't sure she would make it, but me, being a stubborn six year old, took care of her until she was healthy enough to be on her own. Not that she ever did."

Nope, never, and as shown Asharas squishes her face against her Trainer's with the affection of a dog who hasn't seen their owner in a month. In reality, Asharas considered Shay her big sister.

"She was behind her species in growth. She only got this big growth spurt when she became a Charizard. Now she can carry me around on her shoulders like I did when she didn't have wings. Can't imagine my life without her to be honest. She's the best of us. No fancy evolutions or anything for her, she's good just the way she is."

[petalburg-pokemon-husbandry]

I FORGOT TO SAY WHAT EACH OF THEIR COSTUMES WERE OH MY GOD ITS BEEN LIKE TWO WEEKS HANG ON Ragman (Mimikyu)'s theme this year with the costumes was dressing up as other pokemon, and getting a couple new additions to the team meant a whole lot of new things to work with. He was really stressed out for a lot of october, but his work paid off incredibly well! Pyra (Combusken)'s costume was a Hisuian Decidueye. Ragman spent SO MUCH TIME on the hood for her and it turned out absolutely fantastic. We got her a white pair of basketball shorts to cover her orange legs, and some tassels from a thrifted jacket for her arms. Robert (Beldum) wanted something with wings, so Ragman ended up making him a Zubat costume, complete with a big ole mouth and fangs! Robert doesn't have much mobility so he couldn't really make the wings flap, but it was still a lovely addition to the pokeparty. Pillow (Goomy) is a very difficult pokemon to make costumes for since he's always covered in slime, but Ragman managed to make it work by turning him into a Swadloon! Pillow is quite the himbo so he didn't really have the attitude of a Swadloon down, but honestly that just made the costume even cuter. Siri (Rotom) possessed an orange GameCube with a copy of Luigi's Mansion in it for the length of the party, which Ragman helpfully drew a jack o lantern face on, unhelpfully in permanent marker. (I'd just buy the washable ones but he doesn't like the way they color and for big projects like this he really wants the good stuff.) Ferrintio (Sprigatito) seemed like she was really struggling to decide what she wanted to go as, so Ragman kinda just started working and eventually made her a Tepig! Watching Ferrintio meow yesses and nos at Ragman was a stupidly cute thing to watch. And last but not least, Benny! (Charcadet!) Benny has been getting along with Ragman really well ever since I brought him home, so he ended up acting like an assistant for the costumes this year. Unfortunately he decided to dress up as a Mime Jr, and Ragman did put his heart into making it accurate. He has the nose. He had the little hat. He learned to do a little dance. It was adorable and I hated it so much but I didn't have the heart to say anything bad. Happy Belated Halloween!

Halloween is coming up which means that the number of paper and fabric scraps in my house have been increasing exponentially as ragman (mimikyu) works both on disguises for himself and for my other Pokémon. Yes it is adorable, but no he does not clean up his own mess.

[burr-ell]

Hii! Percy/Vex/both for the character hc ask? Also just wanted to say i love following you and readingyour percahlia tags/posts and your tlovm vids and percahlia fic were so great too (Still Thinking about the ear pun in the title terms of endearment to this day). So just. Bless you <3

thank uuuuuu <3 ur like an angel with no wings

Headcanon A: realistic

Percy: He has Keyleth make his cane/walking stick, and he uses it for three reasons: as a mobility aid, to make himself look dapper, and because it reminds him of his father. (He's also perfectly capable of using it as a blunt-force weapon. The man has 22 Dex and raised five children; he's always on his toes and he likes it that way.)

Vex: She gains an audience with the gods to haggle one last time: for the souls of all of Vox Machina, to be together when they die. And yes, she cites Vecna and the Conclave, but she also points out the little things—when Percy sang in Celestial to help resurrect that little boy; when Grog helped rebuild Whitestone and didn't ask for a thing in return; when Keyleth revitalized the land in Whitestone and for the Ravenites; when Pike stayed behind to care for the Emon refugees; when Scanlan stayed in danger until he knew they were all safe; when Vax honored the farmer Reginald's death and reminded the group of everything that was at stake. She wins.

Headcanon B: while it may not be realistic it is hilarious

Percy: He has a sign outside his study door written in beautiful Celestial calligraphy. It reads, "I don't want to, I don't have to, you can't make me, I'm retired."

Vex: She hasn't stolen a thing since that broom...except for the special gourmet chocolates she swipes every time they have a ball. They only get made for that occasion, and no Percy darling she is not sharing; if you wanted them you should have stolen them fair and square.

Headcanon C: heart-crushing and awful, but fun to inflict on friends

Percy: It takes him awhile to admit it to her, because he knows it's irrational and he knows it's not a competition and he knows what happened to her was terrible—but sometimes he envies Cassandra for having decent meals and a roof over her head for those five years. He's unsurprised to find that she often envies him, for his freedom and his adventures with his friends, and tries harder to encourage her to travel more.

Vex: She doesn't regret the name Vax'ildan, but she doesn't protest at all when he starts going by Freddy. She sometimes wonders if she was being selfish, giving him a name with that kind of legacy and weight. (He assures her that while it is a lot of pressure, the name itself is an honor to carry.)

Headcanon D: unrealistic, but I will disregard canon about it because I reject canon reality and substitute my own.

Percy: He knows how to step-dance. Fabulously. He and Cassandra both had to learn, and after Vex and Grog give them some firewater shots a few drinks, they've been known to engage in truly spectacular rug-cutting. He has, quite literally, swept Vex off her feet multiple times, and she finds it equal parts adorable and attractive.

Vex: She does eventually find out about the Honey Heists; Trinket can't keep secrets from her for long. (What can he say? She gives the best belly rubs.) She's exasperated to know what really happened at the Sun Kissed Tavern, but it's quickly overridden by how much she really wants to meet these bears. They're wary at first, but quickly begin to adore her almost as much as Trinket does. (It also explained that honey badger who'd given her an unusually piercing look when she was patrolling the Parchwood the other day.)

send a character's name to receive four headcanons!

[prof-peach]

I do wonder, do you have any tips on battling with mildly disabled pokemon. My partner in crime is a cinderace named Sage. She has cataracts (born with them) and as she has gotten older her eyesight has worsened. We have found ways to battle and work around the fact she is visually impaired. Such as audio only commands, using vibrations, and straight up physically guiding her when needed, but I'm curious on your thoughts. What about other disabilities?

You should perhaps consider getting a professional to look at your buddy, if the retina is still attached, Cataracts can be removed, and a new artificial lens put in their place, thoughif your buddy is quite old now, they'll need to relearn some stuff. Theres a bunch of other reasons to not go with surgery to correct that, and I assume you've had specialists look into it further, but just in case you haven't, heads up, that might be fixable? I don't know enough, i'm sure you've done your homework though. As for working with Disabilities, we literally handle those cases ALL the time. Half our job is taking in those mons, working with them as best as possible. People like to give up on them fast if they don't meet the bar, and normally all it takes is thinking a little different, and adapting. Missing legs on hitmonlee, arms gone on Bewear, wings shredded on flying types, tail fins missing on water types, all the physical things can either be helped with prosthetics, physio, and relentless training, or adjusting how the pokemon functions. We often make tailored training plans for those who need it, some use items to help with balance, with seeing when they've got less vision, for hearing when they can't. Visually impaired pokemon who want to battle often get fitted with audio pickups, so they get a heightened sense of hearing, to give them a better chance. If they're beaf entirely, we use ASL to interact a lot, teaching them, and our staff. Most of us know it now, newbies get the course as part of their training. Items are pretty custom here, we assess a patients needs and create based on that, and when i say "we" I mean Grey. He's found a great use for gauntlets of sorts, that the pokemon and trainer share, pressure points on the inside of them are shared between the pair, so a trainer can touch a certain point, that is mimicked on the pokemons set, letting it know commands even with its back to the trainer (because mid-battle its hard to keep both your opponent, and your trainer in sight). this helps the hard of hearing too, and the mechanics are adjustable. You can get super complex sets, or real simple ones, depending on the needs. A pretty incredible patient we've recently adopted out with its partner, was a Lombre, poor thing had damage to its spine, pretty bad, couldn't walk anymore. We did a few surgeries, got the back on their feet, but only JUST. It was pretty sad it couldn't dance anymore, really got it down. We couldn't fix the physical issues internally, but decided that perhaps if it had a dance partner? So we found a Grumpig, one who just couldn't sit still, and started to train the pokemon to help, not only with lessons on support and care, but some of the ore coordinated staff taught it to dance more, to use its energy for something fun, which it loved. With its psychic abilities, it could decompress the Lombre's spine when they stood, and gave it near enough full mobility. The two started physio together, started to dance again, and now a lovely young man has adopted them both, they moved to Unova not too long ago now, and both are very happy. I heard they started to teach others how to dance too, perhaps if the Lombre evolves one day it'll help the issue, but they seem happy, and have a good life back because of their buddy. Pokemon helping pokemon, all we did was facilitate it. Theres a bunch of needs we cater to, but the list is so big I literally could just go on and on, so i'll call it, but let me say, you've got a tough buddy, who might just benefit from a specialist item to help them fight to their fullest, if thats what they want. Consider coming in for a fitting, or a checkup on those cataracts if you've not done so yet.

[dimorphodon-x]

I probably once said that Starhawk doesn’t really do any dancing on account of his long awkward wings but I just had the thought of what that could look like on the few occasions he might.

More often than not, I’d imagine he doesn’t do any flashy or impressive dancing, just kinda grooving casually at the sidelines during a party or whatever.

But if he were to do it more seriously, he’d probably mostly use his wings and takes advantage of his irredentist paint job by angling his wings to make various colors flash as they bob up and down in rhythm of the music. He keeps his head low, putting more emphasis on his wings as he spins and hops. Honestly very little of his frame is doing any impressive motions.

The only reason why Hawk would primarily use his wings to dance is really because of how long they are. Trying to dance like a grounder like say Jazz or someone with more manageable, shorter wings is nearly impossible. He can’t land on his back comfortably and he might accidentally kick someone’s head off. Honestly Starhawk is rather awkwardly built, torso alone a very skinny, stretched out dorito (and I’ll be real, I highly doubt Hawk could realistically even put his hands behind his head lol). His wings at least are very mobile and flashy.

And I know in some hcs it’s considered very flirtatious for a flier to to show off their wings, but wing dancing (as I am calling it atm) is anything but flirty (at least in most contexts. Hawk is most certainly not flirty when dancing, he’s just having fun, maybe showing off). Just like more familiar dance forms humans do, wing dancing can probably sometimes be considered more of an art, with very deliberate, loose and sharp movements that require lots and lots of practice to get right. Perhaps, like humans again, the way they move their wings can tell stories, and other times it just looks pretty.

Of course with wing dancing, one is going to need a lot of space, which is why Starhawk has almost never been seen doing it. He never looks for the opportunity to dance anyway, he’s just not as interested in it.

[royallyjoon]

nephilim (cinq)

you know where the cred goes 💙

cult au, supernatural creature au

yandere bts x f! reader

warnings: yandere themes, physical assault, graphic descriptions of violence, manipulation, (slight) gaslighting

you were left, abandoned by mortals and immortals alike. darkness knows no bounds, and neither does punishment. there is no refuge in neither blood nor flesh from its wrath. if darkness welcomes you, should you open your arms to it in return? if darkness turns you away, does that mean you’ve won? should you choose to cast aside this lonely path of yours, and your conviction along with it, regardless of whatever other horrors lie in wait, you will be saved. 

——————————————————————

What is one to do when they hear the words they’ve feared the most leave someone else’s mouth?

The moment they graced Jin’s eardrums, he gripped his phone so tightly he could hear the glass screen crack. 

He and Yoongi had been assisting their father in the woods with preparations for the next meeting, the ominous hour approaching in no less than ten days.

He ignored Moonsik and Yoongi for a moment to answer his phone. 

“Hello?”

He could barely make out any of Jimin’s words--the boy’s blubbering masked too much of the information.

“Robotics...bathroom...”

“Jimin, I can’t hear anything over the sound of you crying. What’s going on?”

“(Y/N)...rooftop...Aemilia...”

“What are you trying to say?” Yoongi stopped talking to the older man, shifting his gaze toward his elder brother as he noticed Jin’s voice raise in irritation and concern.

“Blood...”

“Blood?!”

——————————————————————

Jimin had walked out of robotics a little early today, bored to tears.

He had felt much better after getting rid of the idiotic gaggle that dared to threaten you, and threaten him into abandoning you.

He should have known it wouldn’t be enough. He should’ve never left your side, he thought as he kneeled on the rooftop, staring forlornly at the pool of partially dried blood on the concrete.

“She was bleeding, hyung. Aemilia or her people must have taken her, but I have no idea where they went.”

Namjoon had been in the middle of a meeting with the school board, representing the student council.

Hoseok had been in the dance studio, barking orders out at somewhat competent underclassmen.

Jungkook and Taehyung were holed up in the younger’s room, playing games rather than doing any actual work.

In short, none of them were prepared. None of them had been there for you as they had promised.

You trusted them when you needed them most, and they left you high and dry.

Jimin felt like he would never be able to get the disappointment and guilt off of his chest.

——————————————————————

Namjoon bounded into the clearing, his usually polished exterior uncharacteristically tarnished. 

Hoseok appeared not long after him, having raced to the woods the moment he received the news.

They were met by Seokjin and Yoongi, who stood with their arms crossed over their chests, near a miserable Jungkook and a pacing Taehyung. Both boys had been in the house, so they were the first to arrive.

Jimin got there last, his hands and uniform pants stained red from the puddle he had kneeled in on the rooftop.

Six pairs of eyes landed on him and his appearance, confirming the worst.

“Three!” Seokjin cried incredulously. “Three of you were on campus, surrounded by a bunch of humans, and not a single one of you managed to keep an eye on her!”

“She could be anywhere,” Jungkook groaned in fear. 

“By all means, please don’t start caring now. It’s too late.” Yoongi snapped at him. “You and Taehyung drove straight home to do absolutely nothing. You could at least have offered her a ride home and ensured that she was safe. You’re just as responsible as they are.”

Jungkook’s eyes grew glassy, but only because he knew his brother was right. 

“As much as you enjoy playing the blame game, we have more pressing matters to address.” Namjoon interjected in an attempt to calm them down.

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it, Namjoon.” Seokjin’s icy tone sent a chill down their backs. “If we really wanted to play the blame game, we would have recognized how this is all your fault.”

The leader stood in tense silence.

“What did I tell you mere hours before this happened?” He continued, walking toward Namjoon until they were face to face. “I told you to get your shit together and to keep that girl in line. Hell, none of this would have happened if we hadn’t followed your idiotic plan in the first place.”

Seokjin was rarely ever angry enough to hiss in his brother’s face. They had all learned a long time ago that to provoke the oldest was to invoke Death.

“We all agreed his plan was the best choice at the time, hyung.” Yoongi cautiously approached the two and lay a hand on Seokjin’s shoulder, leveling a glare of his own at Namjoon. “We can deal with him later. We need to find her first.”

Jimin took the opportunity to step further into the clearing and brandished his phone, the device still open to his messages. “(Y/N) texted me saying Aemilia invited her up to roof and that she assumed it was for a confrontation of some sort.” 

“Aemilia doesn’t have the ability or strength to do damage like that by herself, though.” Taehyung frowned as he gestured to Jimin’s clothes. “Unless...”

The brothers looked at each other in realization and one by one, rushed out the clearing and out the forest. 

A quick drive to the center of the city and one pitifully short interrogation later, their suspicions were settled.

Hoseok growled as he re-entered the van, slamming the car door shut. “How dare he? When did he gain the courage to mobilize our own forces without our knowledge?”

“Never mind Augustus,” Jimin said, although his eyes blazed with anger. “Where would they take her?”

“That dog wouldn’t have taken her to the normal base, she has far too much malicious intent for (Y/N).” Taehyung growled.

Jungkook lightly tapped his fingers on the car door, looking out the window when the thought hit him.

“You don’t think they’d take her to...?”

His brothers looked at him in confusion, but he pointed out the window at the tree line of the woods. 

Having grown up in those woods, they knew it like the back of their hand. 

They knew the places were young townspeople would go to goof off, the places they had claimed for themselves, and the places that were...strictly off-limits.

It didn’t take much longer for the realization to set in.

Once it had, they took off in the direction of the forest.

——————————————————————

In your dream, you once again stood before Ichabod Chapel.

The Chapel, adorned with green vines, had long since been abandoned. Once, the walls must have been a beautiful ivory, but now they were a dark beige, having rotted with time.

A complete opposite to the image of the decrepit church, the seven Kim brothers stood on the ground in front of the entrance, visions dressed in various black silks.

Contrary to its original purpose, the material looked anything but light and airy--in fact, it looked as though it was weighed down or soaked, doused in some unknown substance.

You looked down to see that you were dressed in a white, ceremonial outfit. It billowed out like a ball gown, the sleeves drawing lacy patterns swirling up to your thumb. 

When you looked up, you were stunned by the brilliant, black wings that extended from the backs of the seven men before you. 

The sight of their wings enraptured you, those gorgeous appendages, feathers glossy under the moonlight.

Each of them had their own, unique set, varying in shapes and sizes, though the largest pair of wings belonged to none other than Kim Namjoon, who stood in the center of his brothers, hands in his pocket as he flashed you a familiar, mischievous grin.

Namjoon was the first to step out of the line, casually extending his hand out to you, and you hesitantly raised a dainty, (s/c) hand in return, placing it in his.

He pulled you into his arms and you felt him wrap them around you.

His brothers came to circle around the two of you, eventually joining the hug as well. 

Then, the whispers began.

Their tone was loving, though their words were anything but.

They were desperate, consuming, obsessive, threatening. 

They wanted you to love them, they needed you to love them, why couldn’t you understand? 

Your head pounded, filled to the brim with cruel promises of tenderness and affection.

The substance from their silks seeped into your clothes, rapidly staining your white outfit red.

You realized just what it was that they were doused in and tried to pull away from their arms but they surrounded you, locking you into their hold. 

The harder you fought to get out, the tighter they held on to you until you felt as though you couldn’t breathe.

Things were better this way. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do to protect you.  There’s nothing they wouldn’t do for your love.

How could you scorn their love for you? How could you treat them like this?

 They didn’t want to hurt anyone you cared about. They didn’t want to eliminate everyone you love in order to bring you to their side, but they would if they had to. 

They paid no mind to the way you were drowning in the smell of it, drowning in blood. Was it yours or someone else’s? Was it your mother’s? Mana’s?

All you knew was that they were done playing games.

——————————————————————

Your eyes flashed open and you winced as you immediately wished they hadn’t.

Your head pounded, each thump forcing your eyes shut with the intensity, still not having recovered from the several hits it received. 

For a moment it felt as though you were still unconscious and drenched in darkness, as when you tried to get a glimpse of your surroundings, you only saw shadows and moving, ambiguous shapes. 

The movement of the ground beneath you, however, quickly dispelled such thoughts. 

It appeared as though you were being carried over someone’s shoulder. Despite the extra weight, the person you currently rested on was light and quick on their feet, moving with a speed that made you feel worse than you already were.

The familiar crunching of leaves and branches on the ground made your heart beat just a bit harder. 

According to their footsteps and what you could see of your surroundings, you surmised they had taken you to the forest.

It had been mid afternoon when Aemilia and the people who worked for her and her family accosted you at the roof. Now, there was barely a hint of the moon in your surroundings.

Did she intend to have her people tie you up to the wooden pyre and set you aflame, like some sick imitation of a witch burning at the stake? Or to make it seem as though the Kims had done it?

Despite how afraid of Mayor Kim the citizens were, there was no way everyone would believe you died in such a gaudy display. 

Only the purple fire that Mayor Kim was capable of conjuring left nothing behind, after all. If they were to going to get rid of you by fire, your remains would be found.

There’s no way you could ensure that, however. 

There’s no guarantee that Aemilia wouldn’t be able to make good on her promise and utterly destroy you.

A light cough broke the silence, bringing you back to the present, and you tried to calm your heartbeat. There’s no way your captors would believe you were asleep if you kept scaring yourself like this.

You felt a tight, scratchy material around your wrists and your hands laying against your back.

You successfully clenched your hands. So they hadn’t drugged you while you were out. 

You were hesitant to shift, as you feared your captors would notice your cognizant state, so you resorted yourself to blinking at the ground and gritting your teeth from the pain and nausea. 

Thankfully, the people you were with appeared to be none the wiser. 

“Are we almost there?” A deep voice, seemingly annoyed, huffed.

“Be patient, Lee.” You felt the vibrations of the person carrying you as they replied. “This isn’t just any other job.” 

“I understand, but don’t you think Miss Augustus is going too far?”

Your captor scoffed. “If you want to question the Augustuses, thereby questioning the Kims and their authority, be my guest. I just hope you and your family will be able to deal with the consequences.”

The second captor, Lee, had nothing else to say after that. 

The quiet of the forest left a buzzing in your ears and the swinging sensation your body was making whilst strewn over the person’s back became too much to bear. 

You figured you’d just make your captor angrier if you barfed down their back and tried to shift to draw their attention, but it was too late. 

The acrid taste of bile and what you had for lunch earlier that day reached your mouth and your lifted your head, spitting out as much of it as you could.

There was a yell of anger and disgust, and your captor shoved you off of them and onto the forest floor. 

You held back a shout as you hit the ground, injuring your side even further, and let out the rest of your meal.

“What the-?! This disgusting bitch!”

Your captor launched another kick at your stomach and you fought back tears as they aggravated the wounds already in place. 

Lee stopped them after a while, complaining that another round of beating would just delay their job even further. 

You wiped your mouth off on your shoulder and grimaced.

To your surprise, you found that you could move your legs.

The first captor lifted you to your feet by your collar, and you recognized him as Mr. Byun, the man the strawberry blonde had referred to earlier. 

“Your legs still work for a reason,” he sneered and pushed you forward.

Your legs did indeed work, but were wobbly after hours of no use. 

You tripped and almost fell to the floor again, the bonds around your wrists preventing you from reaching out to break your fall, when the second captor grabbed you by the back of your shirt and held you up. 

“I’m not really in the mood for any of your foolishness, girl.” Lee glowered down at you. “Use your legs properly, or I’ll break them and drag you by the hair. It would be all too easy.”

You heard a suspicious click and your eyes flickered over to Byun, whose hand rested on his waist. In the other, however, he fiddled with a small lever on what appeared to be a firearm.

“Do you understand?” The second captor shook you and your brain protested, rattling around far too much for its liking. 

The thought of escape, which had been curling up inside you like the beginning of a fire, was quickly extinguished. You squeezed your eyes shut and nodded.

He pushed you away from him and you walked, following him with Byun at your back, trying to think of a way out of this situation.

You couldn’t tamper with the ropes around your wrist, as Byun was watching your every move. There was also the gun, and the fact that both men were trained in the use of it as well as martial arts.

Was there truly no way to escape?

——————————————————————

The three of you walked for what felt like hours, reaching a part of the woods that you had never seen before.

Here, the trees were sparse and had already lost all of their leaves. The dark branches coiled and twisted toward the sky, as if reaching for affection that would never be reciprocated. The stumps were old, the ground hard.

And then, a clearing. But not the one you were used to seeing.

Your heart dropped as you walked between two trees, noticing the view beyond them. 

You could now tell that it was well after midnight, for the sun was nowhere to be seen. Nevertheless, as always, the moon was high in the sky. 

Wylynne gazed down on the clearing with a force, as if the moon goddess wanted you to see bright and clear what awaited you.

The crumbling cliff before you overlooked a tranquil lake. Clouds hung in the distance, obscuring what was undoubtedly the outside world.

The outside of Ichabod.

Such tranquility had no business here, you thought to yourself as the pace of your breathing increased. 

Your captors had brought you to Lorne’s Ledge, also known as the edge of no return.

It was forbidden territory for any Ichabodian citizen.

Even before Mayor Kim came to town, even before the Augustus family had their reign: this was one of the oldest, most sacred spots in Ichabod.

The lady of the cliff, Lorne, saw to it that the forsaken never returned home.

You shuddered. The folklore didn’t scare you in the slightest. It would always be the work of man that you detested. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but feel some foreign, oppressive gaze resting on you now that you were here. As if Lorne herself were staring at you, waiting for you to join her in the watery depths--

That familiar click sounded again and your eyes shot to the side. You tried to slowly turn around, but the press of metal against your back forced you to stop all movement.

Lee smirked. “We have arrived at your final destination, my lady.”

“Miss Augustus was generous enough to leave you with two options. You can walk off and take a nice rest in the lake, or you can die before your body ever hits the water.” The man smiled mirthlessly down at you. “Which would you prefer?”

You blinked rapidly, mind racing. Even if you were capable of swimming, with these injuries, you wouldn’t be able to survive the fall off the ledge, 

They truly meant for you to die.

Lee didn’t seem to be in the mood for your deliberation as his cruel smile slipped into an infuriated frown. “Choose.” He growled. “My friend here would be all too happy to make the choice for you. How does a bullet in your brain and being rolled off the cliff sound?”

Byun dug the weapon into your skin and you winced, shaking your head. 

“I’ll-I’ll go. I’ll walk myself.”

Your voice cracked horribly after not speaking for so many hours, but the message was received. 

The metal was removed from your backside and you sighed in relief.

The man in front of you said nothing, simply stepping out of your path. 

You took a couple more breaths and slowly turned to face him. “C-Can I ask you to do something? As a final request.”

He raised an eyebrow at you in response.

You titled your head in the direction of your back. “Can you untie my hands? After I disappear, there might be a search for me, and someone might try to dig through the lake for my body. A suicide will be completely ruled out if they find the ropes.”

There was no way this would work. Even the Augustuses were too intimidated to bother touching the lake for fear of Lorne’s wrath. 

Besides, the police knew when and where to look, and where to say they looked. They would lie to your friends and family through their teeth.

Lee must not have been on the force for very long, however, because he grunted and pulled your hands to him. 

With a slice, the ropes fell to the ground and you clutched your wrists to your chest, nodding partly in thanks and partly in disbelief.

It...worked.

You rubbed your hands together and gently blew on them, fingers numb from the cold breeze. 

Your captors stood together between the trees, blocking the entrance. They murmured quietly to themselves and you continued to morph your face and body expressions into one of a pitiful teenager about to die, concealing the rather reckless thoughts you were having.

You finally turned around and walked back until you were in front of them, catching the two men off guard. They quieted and stared at you, hands at their weapons. 

You met each of them in the eye and bowed, lower than you ever had before, then stood upright.

They looked at you incredulously, giving you just enough time to give Lee a harsh kick between his legs and pry the knife out of his hand.

You slashed at his neck, adrenaline returning full force, and actually managed to cut the man. 

He shouted in pain and brought a hand up to the wound, trying to stop the blood.

Before you could turn to face Byun, however, the loud crack of a gunshot was heard throughout the forest and you felt a painful sting on your hand. 

You yelped as you dropped the knife.

Then, there was a second gunshot and the pain returned full force, this time on your shoulder.

The elder captor, completely fed up with your actions, slammed the gun against your head and you crumpled to the ground. 

You could feel something wet on your hand and clothes, but there was too much of it to be sweat in the midnight chill. You slowly lifted your hand, only to see it covered in a dark liquid.

Byun restrained Lee from attempting to beat you this time, barely casting a glance at your pitiful form. 

“Calm yourself. She won’t be alive for much longer.” He gruffed. “She said she would walk herself, so walk she will. We’re just here to watch and make sure it happens.”

He stood over your form and pointed the gun at your head. “What a useless attempt. Get up.”

Your shoulder and hand burned like hell, but you complied. 

You got to your feet once more and stumbled forward, every step taking you further and further away from the two. 

The barrel of the gun followed your every move.

The tears you’d been struggling to hold back ran full force now at the thought of your imminent death. But rather than let your captors feast upon the sight of your defeated form, you stopped.

You were covered in blood. Your uniform was sullied by your own vomit and dirt. 

But you straightened your back, ignoring the pain in your shoulder, and held your head up high. 

You had reached the edge of the cliff now, but your vision was too blurry to see anything besides the vast blue beneath you. 

The lake that rested below had no warmth or safety to provide for you, but neither did the forest behind you.

You considered praying to Wylynne to see if, in all her majesty and grace, she would save you.

Yet clearly, just like all the people who had come before you, just like the lady of the lake herself, the moon goddess had forsaken you.

You were tired. Too tired to fight against what some would call fate.

You whispered an apology to your mother and Mana, and perhaps even to the brothers, the reason why, you did not know.

Your eyes captured the overcast image of the outside world one last time, then you turned around and took a backward step off the cliff with a sad smile, eyes falling closed, mentally locked on that solitary picture.

Above you, you thought you heard the pained screams and grunts of your captors, sounding as though they were struggling against something or someone. 

But before you, you saw your mother with her arms outstretched, that patient, loving smile on her face. 

You reached forward, wrapped your arms around her, and readily slipped into darkness.

Above your falling form, a shadow zipped through the dawn, racing to reach you before you hit the water. 

He saw you smile and lift an arm into the air, before the smile slipped off your face and your limbs went limp.

The large, black wings at his back beat furiously and he flew faster than he ever had before until he had your beaten form cradled to his chest. 

The two of you suddenly shot upward into the air as your descent slowed, and as the first rays of daylight peeked out from above the clouds, his form hung in the air, almost frozen in time, black wings outstretched and supporting the two of you as he floated above Lorne’s Ledge. 

Kim Jimin hovered, adorned in the light of the early morning sun, peering callously down at the vermin who lay trembling between him and his brothers. 

Or what was left of them, at least.

Jungkook had managed to get his hands on the elder one, and the arm he had been using to carry the gun had been ripped clean off. 

He was now whimpering in excruciating pain, clutching at the place where his limb had once been.

The younger one, on the other hand, lay resting against a tree. 

Unmoving, his eyes unseeing. 

All it had taken was one touch from Hoseok, and the man’s life force was gone, sucked out of him before he could even protest.

He was now nothing more than a lifeless sack of meat.

Taehyung picked up the body as Yoongi kicked one of the elder’s legs to get his attention.

The others stood threateningly over Byun, glowering down at him in utter loathe, as though he were a louse.

The old man whimpered, looking up and between them, then paling in horror as he saw Taehyung and Jimin.

The younger brother walked toward the elder as Jimin gently touched down on the ground, your form still protectively pressed to him. The two Kims met eyes and nodded at each other.

Taehyung turned around and flashed Mr. Byun a crazed smile before flinging Lee’s body as far as he could over the cliff.

He gaped in horror and his voice rose multiple decibels, pleads for his life escaping before he could properly think them through.

Seokjin squatted down until he was at an eye level with him, strong, black wings threateningly displayed. He grinned. 

“If you think you have even any hope of escaping your friend’s fate,” he said as the smile slipped off his face, “you’re dead wrong.”

He glared at Byun with cold, amber irises. “But before we end your insignificant, paltry life, you’re going to tell us who sent you and why.”

They already had proof of Aemilia’s crime from Aloysius Augustus himself but they wanted to be sure.

He looked at the younger gentlemen with tears in his eyes. He fought through his pain and got on both knees.

“There’s no use in begging,” Namjoon stated, arms crossed over his chest. For the first time, he couldn’t find anything amusing in the matter.

“Please! We were only receiving orders, Miss Augustus--”

Before he could finish his sentence, Yoongi used Lee’s discarded knife and slashed it across Byun’s neck, silencing him in an instant. 

The light left his eyes and the man’s body flopped over.

Taehyung didn’t think twice about kicking him off the cliff, either.

Now that those pests were taken care of, the seven rushed to turn their attention on you. 

The bleeding from your shoulder and hand had not slowed in the slightest, and they could hardly feel your pulse.

“We need to get her to the hospital, and fast.” Hoseok said, swallowing the rising lump in his throat.

“I’m the fastest. I can take her there.” Taehyung volunteered.

The brothers agreed, and you were gently deposited into Taehyung’s arms. 

“When you’re sure she’s safe, meet us back here in the woods,” Yoongi said. “You’ll know where to find us.”

"Yes, hyung.” Taehyung spread his wings and took off into the sky.

He carefully cradled you, shifting your body into one of his arms, and attempted to heal some of your worse injuries along the way.

He pressed one hand to your abdomen and began muttering under his breath, a panicked tear slipping out the corner of his eye as he peered at the extent of the damage.

Once your ribs were mostly healed, he pulled his hand away, leaving behind a canvas of dark blue, yellow, and green bruises. He winced and moved on, pressing his hand to your head.

You made no movements, body as limp as ever in his arms. 

Taehyung touched down on the roof of the hospital and tucked those magnificent, black wings together, the appendages fading away as if they were never there. 

He held his arm out, his palm facing the door. He only meant to unlock it, but utterly destroyed it in his haste. Quite frankly, he couldn’t have cared less. 

He hurriedly walked down the stairwell and burst into the hospital’s eleventh floor lobby, reserved for VIP care and treatment. 

A receptionist was working at the front desk, typing away without a care in the world.

He was interrupted by Taehyung’s shouts. “I found her in the woods outside of our home this morning--she’s badly injured, please help!”

He looked up at the boy’s outburst, eyes widening when he realized just who and what he was looking at.

He immediately called for available nurses to bring a bed and admit you to a room, then paged any available doctors.

“Do you know who she is, Mr. Kim?” A nurse asked as she examined you for damage.

He nodded. “She’s a classmate of mine, her name is (Y/N) (L/N). Her mother also works here--please notify her of her daughter’s arrival.”

The man nodded once more, sending someone else to page Nurse (L/N) from the fifth floor.

As the nurses wheeled you away, Taehyung grabbed the receptionist by the wrist and he whipped around in fear.

“This patient is very important,” Taehyung stressed, squeezing the man’s wrist harshly. “She is being admitted under the protection of Kim Moonsik himself, at the behest of our entire family. If anything happens to her...”

The receptionist gulped and nodded. “Of course, Mr. Kim. You don’t need to explain any further. We’ll do our absolute best to ensure her care and recovery.”

Taehyung glared down at him for a bit longer before he threw the man’s wrist aside and turned away from him. 

He rubbed at his wrist, knowing it would bruise in a couple of hours, or perhaps even minutes.

The man returned to his desk, beginning to fill out the paperwork for your stay. 

When he looked up to ask Taehyung more questions about your injuries, the boy had already disappeared.

——————————————————————

In Taehyung’s absence, the six brothers stretched out their wings and flew to a certain section of the woods behind the Kim family home. 

This part of the woods remained untouched by both the Kim family and the general public. It was only the seven who came out here, and only in times of dire consequence. 

Several trees in the area had fallen over, cracked in half as though hit or pushed in anger with some spectacular force.

Leaves and branches strewn all over the ground were blown away by the boys and the sudden breeze they brought, large wings disrupting the peaceful quiet of the forest.

The early morning sun peeked through the leaves, painting a picturesque view of the woods, a sharp contrast to the heavy, violent atmosphere headed its way.

Jungkook planted his feet on the ground first, tucking away his wings until they were out of sight. He angrily flicked what was left of Byun off his face, disgusted by the thick feel and metallic smell of mortal blood. 

Jimin followed right behind him, then Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin entered, Namjoon being the last to touch down on the forest floor.

Jimin and Jungkook met eyes with one another, their anger not even close to subsiding at the death of your captors. 

Yet, soon enough, curiosity and dread brought them out of their rage when they realized just how quiet it had gotten between the older members.

Jimin shifted his gaze, the frown on his face deepening when he saw the eldest brothers’ attention turn to Namjoon, who was standing deathly still, staring blankly ahead.

Seokjin raised an eyebrow as he glared down at the younger. Namjoon refused to meet his gaze.

The six of them stayed like that for a long time, even when they heard the loud beating of another pair of wings, and Taehyung joined them in the forest.

He turned to Jimin in confusion but the older simply shook his head and grabbed for his and Jungkook’s hands, squeezing them. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, Seokjin spoke. 

“There is no mercy for the prideful,” he stated with finality.

Namjoon flinched away at the words, eyes stuck to the ground.

“You weren’t able to uphold your oath, Namjoon ah,” Hoseok said. His words were concerned, but his tone reeked of condescension.

“And because of that, because of your utter failure, our beloved angel got hurt.” Yoongi hissed. “She almost died.”

Hoseok, Yoongi, and Seokjin took menacing steps toward the leader. 

He heard his older brothers walking up to him, but refused to meet the wrath that was surely boiling in their gaze.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook watched on with bated breath, their hands still linked together.

Namjoon was frozen in place. 

As the leader of their group, there was rarely ever a moment where he was seen as weak. 

But the second he had received news of your capture, he lost even the strength to stand on his own two feet.

It was the thought of you, of saving you and bringing you to safety, that had kept him going. 

It was the only thing that had kept all seven of them sane.

Now that they knew you were going to live, he knew he couldn’t avoid his punishment any longer.

Namjoon’s facial expression didn’t change, even in the moment where, with surprising speed, Yoongi lashed out at him, decking him in the face and knocking him to the forest floor.

The student body president winced, gingerly gripping his nose as blood started to leak from it.

His older brothers stood, looking down at him in a mock semicircle.

“Yoongi ah,” Seokjin said, turning to the younger, “what is the punishment for those who commit the deadly sin of pride?”

“Being broken on the wheel, hyung.” Yoongi replied impassively. 

“Fortunately for you, or unfortunately, I should say,” Hoseok grinned down at Namjoon, “we don’t have a wheel.”

Seokjin stepped forward and lifted his foot above Namjoon’s right leg. 

“This is what happens when you place too much pride in yourself and in your actions.” He stated, then brought his foot down on Namjoon’s right leg.

He didn’t let up until there was a sick, audible crack. 

Namjoon reeled back, grunting in pain but refusing to scream. 

Yes, it hurt, but he knew he deserved it. He failed (Y/N). 

This is the least he could do to atone for his actions.

“All things considered, we’re being quite generous with you.” Yoongi stepped up next, kicking his broken leg aside to stomp down on his left one.

This time, Namjoon let out a jarring scream. 

“You still have the audacity to scream? To feel pain?” Yoongi ground his foot into the injury as though he were trying to put out a cigarette. “Imagine how much pain our beloved is in right now. Imagine what she wouldn’t have had to go through, had you done your job properly. Had you listened to us.”

The elder had never been kind or considerate when it came to delivering punishment, a fact that the younger brothers had quickly become accustomed to.

Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook looked on blankly, but inside they felt a deep sense of pity. 

Namjoon was their brother and their leader, the constant face of their strength.

It hurt to see him in so much pain, no matter how necessary it was. 

Namjoon sat on the forest floor, both legs twisted at an awkward angle. He grit his teeth together as he tried to control his breathing. 

He noticed no one else was approaching him, but he knew that the punishment wasn’t over yet, not so soon. He slowly, inquisitively lifted his head.

The eldest three looked at Namjoon expectedly. He pleadingly raised his eyebrows, but their stares held no mercy.

He bowed his head in defeat. 

The senior wrapped his right hand around his left forearm and squeezed until he heard something crack. 

There was the quick, soft sound of a sob coming out of his mouth, and then all was quiet. 

Hoseok went last, shuffling through the leaves on the forest floor to squat next to his younger brother, wiping away some of his tears and gently running his fingers through his hair. “We’re doing this for her. Everything we do is for her, you know that as well as we do.”

Namjoon glanced at him warily, tense because he knew what was coming next, but didn’t know when to expect it. 

“That’s why you’re prepared to face the consequences for your actions, yes...?”

With a sickeningly sweet smile, Hoseok wrapped his hands around Namjoon’s right forearm, breaking the bone in a quick moment.

Namjoon clenched his teeth together so hard, he swore he heard something else crack. 

Any movement within the top or lower half of his body left him in excruciating pain, and he stifled a scream each time.

“You did so well, Joonie.” Hoseok continued patting his head. 

They surrounded him, praising him with how well he took his punishment. 

He was only able to withstand a few more minutes of cognizant thought before his eyes rolled back into his head.

Hoseok caught his younger brother, gently laying him back onto the dirt.

The six men stood in the silence, staring at the form of their treasured leader with pity. 

Seokjin turned around and met each of his younger brothers in the eye. He then wordlessly walked away from the clearing and Namjoon’s broken body.

Yoongi and Hoseok followed him, blank expressions on their face.

The youngest brothers were all too quick to pick up on the message. 

Overstep your boundaries, and endure the same fate. 

After taking one more look at Namjoon, the youngest brothers trekked out of the forest, silently following behind the other angels.

——————————————————————

When you finally pried your eyes open, you were greeted by an unfamiliar chill.

You were cold. So cold, the chill settled uncomfortably in your bones.

White blankets were tucked around you, pristine sheets morphing to mimic your form. 

For a moment, you incredulously thought that this must have been your arrival to heaven.

Then, you soon heard a monotonous beeping and you felt the subtle prick of wires along your skin, an IV casually grazing across the back of your hand. 

It hurt to move your right shoulder, and your abdomen ached, the areas bandaged so tight you could just barely feel them. 

There were bandages around your wrists and hand as well, and the pungent scent of ointment told you those were for your rope burns and bullet graze. 

Your head injuries were also wrapped, if you deduced the source of your current headache correctly. 

You were alive. Alive, and well taken care of.

“(Y/N)?”

You winced, your head not taking too kindly to the reintroduction of noise. A swivel to your right, however, and your mother’s worried face appeared.

“...Mom?” You voice cracked horribly, and she smiled and hummed in acknowledgement, lifting a water pitcher next to her and pouring you a glass of water.

You drank as if you were Tantalus himself.

“I was so worried.” your mother stated, her voice breaking right along with yours. The sound alone nearly brought tears to your eyes. 

She lifted her hands and grasped your uninjured one, intertwining your fingers.

 “I got paged yesterday morning and asked to come up to the eleventh floor, just to find out that you had been admitted.” Your mother spoke, answering your questions before you even got the chance to ask. “And at the request of the entire Kim family, no less. Kim Taehyung brought you in himself, claiming you’d been assaulted and found outside their door.”

You tilted your head, peering at your mother in disbelief. 

She met your gaze and flicked her eyes toward the door, then back towards you without turning around. You followed their direction.

Outside the small, rectangular window of the door, there stood a tall figure dressed in dark clothing.

Your mother leaned toward you and whispered. “That woman has been standing guard since the doctors finished their checkup.”

You gulped and nodded in understanding.

“(Y/N).” Her tone shifted slightly, still holding concern but taking a solemn turn. “I never ask you questions about how school is and your life is going. We usually leave each other to our own devices, and that’s clearly been a mistake on my part. But I need you to be completely honest with me here.”

“Have you displeased the Kims in any way?” Her grip on your uninjured hand tightened to the point where all of your knuckles turned white. “If they have you here under some sort of watch until the next meeting...if they’re trying to...” 

Your mother gulped, unable to finish the rest of the sentence. 

Her voice lowered into a harsh whisper. “Tell me. I’ll go alert a trustworthy coworker, and I will have you out of this town before Kim Moonsik can utter another prayer.”

Your eyes widened comically. “Mom, no! Nothing like that happened. They saved me. The Kims saved my life.” You repeated, gripping her hands. “If they hadn’t brought me here, I would have-” 

The weight of your words finally hit you, and before you could realize, tears gathered in the corner of your eyes. “I could have...”

You fought to speak through the trembling of your lower lip. “I’m sorry I never told you about my day, I just thought I’d be able to handle it all by myself. The police commissioner’s daughter, she was trying to get rid of me and she-Mom, she-”

Your mother cupped your cheeks as your tears cascaded down your face. She gently rubbed your lower back as you muffled your cries by burying your head into her neck.

She didn’t let you go for a while, even after you managed to collect yourself. 

She poured you another glass of water and you sipped at the beverage, telling her the trials you’d faced these past couple of weeks.

“I thought it was a regular instance of bullying,” you sniffled, putting the plastic cup down. “that she didn’t want me getting too close to her crush. So I endured because I had no intention of taking anything of hers away. Who am I, in Ichabod, compared to a woman of prestige like that?” You sarcastically asked.

“But apparently, my mere existence bothered her.” You shakily recounted what had ultimately been the most terrifying moments of your life to your mother. 

You obscured some parts of the story, not wanting your mother to worry even more, and claimed that the Augustus’ men had taken you to the clearing to scare you and beat you up, and that you surmised they dropped you off outside of the Kim home afterward. 

By the time she finished hearing the whole story, her grip had embedded itself into the edge of the hospital bed. 

Your mother’s vexation was interrupted by the sound of people speaking outside your door.

“Ma’am, I apologize. By the order of Kim Moonsik, only family members are allowed to visit the patient right now.” The figure outside your door spoke with an uninterested tone.

“With all due respect, officer, please don’t assume my gender.” You heard a familiar voice snipe. “My best friend is lying in there and she’s practically a sister to me. I don’t particularly give a damn about your order. Kim Moonsik can kiss my-”

“Mana!” You yelled, trying to catch both of their attention before your best friend could get themselves arrested. 

You flipped the hospital blankets off of you and your mother helped you to your feet, then to the door. The injuries on your abdomen and head protested with every step.

The guard’s eyes widened a bit as you slid the door open, and so did the eyes of every hospital staff within sight of your room. 

“Ms. (L/N), I implore you, please go back to bed to rest!” A nurse in the hallway rushed over. 

The guard hastily nodded in agreement. “Yes, please do. I sincerely apologize for the commotion.”

You waved them off, reaching a hand out to Mana. “I'll go back to bed, but only if you let Mana in. They’re family.”

Mana stood in the hallway, hurriedly dressed in sweatpants, a disheveled oversized hoodie, and sneakers, but gingerly holding a teddy bear with a card.

The guard looked between you, Mana, and the nurse for quite some time. The nurse’s frantic expression must have convinced her, though, because she finally stepped aside.

Mana extended their arm, gently grabbing your hand in return and waltzing past the security guard with a smug expression. 

The moment the three of you were back in the room, however, they ushered you back to bed as well.

“(N/N)!” Mana said, going to hug you, then rethinking it when they spotted all the bandages. 

They placed the teddy bear in your arms and stood a card that cheerily read “Get Well Soon!” on your nightstand. “How are you feeling? I’m so sorry--I should have been there with you!”

“My head and chest hurt, but I’m alright.” You shook your head with a small smile, clutching the doll to your chest. “Don’t apologize, you had no idea this was going to happen. This was all the result of my stupid decision--I was the one who fell into her trap.”

Your mother excused herself, leaving you and Mana alone for a few minutes.

You filled them in on what had happened to you, withholding no details, and their face lit up in anger. “She ordered them to take you to Lorne’s Ledge?! That psychotic cunt! Just wait until I drag her across the square, we’ll see how high and mighty she is then-”

“Mana, calm down.” You smiled, thankful for your friend’s protectiveness, but weary after everything you’d just gone through. 

“I never want to stoop to her level,” you admitted, wringing the sheets in your hands. 

Your mother gently slid open the door, returning with water and a tray of food for you.

“I think...I’ve had enough of mind games and tricks for a while.” You whispered, then smiled at her as she lay the meal in front of you.

Mana’s gaze turned soft, and they patted your hands and back in support. 

“I don’t even want to think of what would have happened if the Kims hadn’t gotten there in time.” your mother muttered. 

You nodded in agreement. 

You weren’t particularly sure how or why, but the Kims had saved your life. 

Not only had they offered you some of the best care in the city, free of charge, but they even stationed people outside your room.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, something told you that holding them with such a mindset would put you exactly where they wanted you to be. 

Yet something else countered that thought, claiming that it was that same distancing mindset that had pushed you into the arms of danger in the first place. 

Perhaps Mayor Kim felt responsible for it because his men got usurped by a high school girl.

Or, perhaps, it was his sons who felt even more responsible.

Your mother and Mana stayed with you the rest of the night, each taking up their own positions on the furniture. Mana draped themself on the couch while your mother took the armchair.

You allowed yourself to drift off to the sound of them breathing, the chill and fear of the previous morning now a distant, foreign thing.

——————————————————————

Your mother and Mana weren’t constantly at your side, as one had to attend to her duties at work and the other had to go to school. 

There were other individuals who were perfectly happy to waste the day with you, though.

On the first day, you were visited by Jimin.

The sophomore’s usual high-energy self was nowhere to be seen as he stepped into your hospital room holding a small bouquet of (your favorite flowers). 

Jimin rushed at you, barely giving himself enough time to greet him before he fell to his knees in front of your hospital bed. 

You gasped aloud in surprise and urged him to stand, but he would have none of it. 

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” His eyes glistened as water streaked down his cherubic face. “If I had read your message earlier, if I hadn’t been so stupid to turn my phone off, you never would have gotten hurt like this.”

You winced as you pulled yourself to the edge of the bed, your hand only hurting slightly less than it had before. “You didn’t know at the time, I wouldn’t blame you for that. When you did know, you rushed to help me. That’s something I will be forever grateful to you for.” 

You exhaled and smiled your rare, genuine smile, a warm countenance on your face that pierced Jimin’s soul. “So please,” you held your hand out to Jimin.

The boy looked up, pitiful expression morphing into a delighted smile. He gently took your hand and stood, then ushered you to rest comfortably back at the top of the bed. 

The two of you spent the rest of the day talking, Jimin distracting you from your current situation with stories about his family and their travels. 

By the time you realized you’d never gotten answers to your questions, the sun was starting to set and you were having trouble keeping your eyes open in the middle of Jimin’s conversation.

If the raven haired boy had noticed it, he didn’t say anything. 

If anything, he continued speaking, his voice low and chiming with laughter as he recounted precious memories.

When he heard the familiar sound of your soft, slow breathing, he stopped. He simply gazed upon your visage, smiling at the way your (s/c) skin lit up in the afternoon sun and held a hand up to block the light from getting in your eyes.

He stayed that way for the next several minutes, then gently caressed your cheek, letting his hands linger for shorter than he would have liked.

Once the night was well underway, Jimin collected his things and left your side with one more forlorn look.

He shot a strict gaze at the guard, who gulped and nodded at the unspoken order.

Finally, he turned and walked down the hallway toward the elevators. 

——————————————————————

On the second day, you were visited by Taehyung. You were still asleep when he first came into the room, but your mother was sitting beside you and her eyes widened when she saw him.

Before the younger boy could even speak, the older woman bowed low in gratitude.

Few people had ever seen your mother in a vulnerable state, you included, as she purposefully made it so. 

Taehyung was a rare exception that day as he gently gripped her shoulders, feeling the slight trembles that coursed through her as he straightened her posture. 

Suppressing an amused smile, Taehyung thought of the differences between you and his supposed mother. 

While the actress trembled out of fear for her own life, your mother shook at the thought of losing you.

As expected from the woman who raised you, their perfect treasure.

“I can never repay you for the hospitality you’ve shown my daughter,” your mother whispered.

“There’s no need for such matters, Ms. (L/N). We’ll always protect and watch out for your daughter. We’re honored to have her in our lives.” Taehyung replied with a sincere tone.

She accepted the flowers he brought, carefully laying the bouquet on your nightstand, right next to the vase where Jimin’s flowers lay. 

When you did wake up, you had your own chance to thank Taehyung for finding you and bringing you to safety, along with sponsoring your stay in the hospital. 

He waved away your thanks, claiming that he was simply glad that you had turned to Jimin for assistance so that they were able to know about it.

“You know we’ll always be there for you, right (Y/N)?”

Always.

“Just say the word and we’ll come running.”

We love you.

His heart ached with the weight of the words he couldn’t say.

But you smiled in appreciation and he melted, as it was the smile they had longed to see for so long. The one that you usually reserved for your mother or Mana, the one that they had only gotten glimpses of in the time that they had known you.

He wouldn’t let you do anything for yourself the entire time, claiming you needed to rest up and heal as soon as possible. You reluctantly agreed, enjoying an unusually lazy day.

He played music for you, and soon enough the two of you were lost in a passionate conversation about your favorite artists. Funnily enough, there were several of them who you shared interest in.

Before Taehyung returned home for the day, he insisted on covering you with the blanket as well, tucking it up to your neck and pressing it in at the sides.

Your eyes were closed out of embarrassment as his form hung over yours. 

He fought the urge to bend down and kiss your forehead, for he still feared that he could frighten you away.

Instead, he reached up and switched off the light directly above your bed. With an ambiguous smile, he left, closing the door behind him.

——————————————————————

On the third day, you were visited by Jungkook.

The atmosphere was a little awkward at first, considering how soft-spoken the freshman tended to be around you.

When you tried shifting the conversation by asking him about his personal interests and passions, however, his eyes lit up.

Jungkook demonstrated several different types of punches for you in the room, even helping you weakly set up your form with your still healing hands. 

You learned much more about boxing forms and gaming techniques that day than you could ever remember, but you did leave with plans to have private self-defense lessons with Jungkook after you’d finished healing.

At some point during his visit, you had drifted off and by the time you woke up again, Jungkook was already gone. 

You panicked slightly, worried that he’d be upset and think that you wanted him to leave. As you turned to your phone, however, you noticed a folded piece of paper resting on top of the back of it.

When you opened the paper, you saw a beautiful pen-and-ink sketch of you, lying in your hospital bed and napping. 

Jungkook had somehow taken your messy, disheveled state and turned it into something that evoked a tender feeling within you.

You grinned down at the paper, amazed by his talent. Was this how he saw you? As this...ephemeral, peaceful being?

You gently stood the paper up so that it rested between the two vases that housed Jimin and Taehyung’s flowers, right next to Mana’s card.

The afternoon soon gave way to evening, then evening to night.

——————————————————————

On the fourth day, Seokjin saved you from the monotony of bland, hospital food by bringing you home cooked meals. 

The mere smell of the dishes had your mouth watering. 

He refused to let you do anything yourself, much like Taehyung had the other day. But unlike Taehyung, Jin went so far as to feed you himself.

It was embarrassing, but no matter how much you protested, he wouldn’t let up.

He sat in the chair your mother usually preoccupied and held the utensils out to you, neatly making sure you finished your meals.

At one point, he pretended the food was an airplane and you playfully slapped his arm, resulting in him dissolving into a surprising windshield-wiper-like laugh. 

Jin spent the rest of the day with you, telling you awful jokes that under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have found that funny. 

His companionship was greatly appreciated, however, and you found that you grew surprisingly fond of his laugh.

Before Jin left for the evening, he gently lifted your hand and placed it in his lap, then revealed another bag he’d brought on his visit.

To your surprise, he clipped a small (silver/gold/rose gold) bracelet around your wrist. The ornament carried two charms: one of a well-detailed moon, the other a pair of angel wings.

You rushed to have him take the bracelet off, hesitant to accept such a valuable gift. 

Yet the look in his eyes pierced right through you, his previous joy still present and glimmering but hidden beneath the depths of something more sinister.

You leaned against your pillows as Jin gently lifted the back of your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to it, just like he had the first night you met. 

“The moment I saw it, I thought of you.” He smiled, affectionately rubbing his thumb over your wrist. “Keep it. For me?”

It wasn’t a request.

——————————————————————

On the fifth day, you were visited by Hoseok and Yoongi.

You were slightly surprised at the fact that they had come together, as their outer attitudes seemed to be opposites, but you found that they complemented each other very well. 

They were extremely considerate of you, allowing you to do things for yourself but offering their assistance should you need it. 

Hoseok spent the day cheering you up by performing routines for you in the little space the room provided.

As strict as he was infamous for being, Hoseok clearly knew his craft. You were mesmerized by his movements and insisted on clapping for each of his performances, your hand healing quite nicely now.

Yoongi delighted you with tales of his rambunctious actions in high school, and some of the best well-kept faculty secrets.

There were several things you learned about Ms. Divii and Mrs. Hargrove that day that you would have been perfectly happy not knowing for the rest of your life, but you giggled and gossiped all the same.

It appeared as though the elder Kim brothers had a similar thought process, as Hoseok and Yoongi each gifted you (silver/gold/rose gold) jewelry similar to what you had received the day prior.

Hoseok looked as though we was going to cry when you went to turn down his gift.

One sharp look from Yoongi later, you closed your mouth, smiled, and expressed your thanks.

Hoseok fondly clipped the necklace onto you, his heart performing somersaults as you leaned into his embrace. 

He silently gulped, overcome by the sudden desire to press his lips to your neck. 

When he made eye contact with Yoongi over your shoulder, his face reddened slightly as the elder smirked at him.

He reigned in the perceptible want in his eyes and leaned back, flashing you his signature smile. “There you are, angel. Pretty as a picture.”

You lowered your head to hide your flush. “You guys really don’t have to bring me these gifts,” you murmured lightly. 

“With a visage as perfect as yours, we simply can’t help ourselves.” Yoongi stated in reply, lifting your ring finger to slide a band onto it. 

How unfortunate it was that it was the right hand instead of the left.

He was able to hide his disappointment from you, but not from Hoseok. 

Nevertheless, there would surely be an opportunity in the near future.

How else would all of those worthless people know that you belonged to them?

——————————————————————

On the sixth day, Namjoon limped his way into your hospital room, a grimace on his face. 

You greeted him with a warm smile that quickly shifted into a worried expression. “Oh goodness, are you alright?”

Namjoon nodded, taking the seat next to your bed. “I injured my leg, it’s nothing serious. I should be perfectly alright soon.”

Seokjin had been kind enough to heal most of his limbs, the elder worried about your reaction to seeing him in such a state. 

They purposefully made him wait in agonizing pain for nearly a week, however, to rub the punishment in, before clearing him to go visit you. 

It seemed as though the student body president had lost his usual self-assured, constantly amused atmosphere. He was strangely quiet, and his body language was similar to that of a man who’d been beaten into submission. 

That was far from the Kim Namjoon you knew.

For several moments, the two of you sat in awkward silence.

The two of you hadn’t been on the best of terms the last time you spoke. Just thinking back to that moment when he’d felt like he was on top of the world, completely in control, made him cringe. 

Then, you turned and smiled at him. “You know, if you really need to, you could always join me as a patient. It’d definitely make the days less boring.”

Namjoon knew you knew there was a change in his attitude, and rather than lording that over him, you simply welcomed him as you usually did.

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N).” The words blurt out before he could stop them.

You shook your head, slightly amused. “What’s with you and Jimin these days? You don’t need to apologize for saving me. Unless you want to, and, well, that’s a completely separate manner--”

“No!” Namjoon lifted his hands up and waved them around. “I just-"

You smiled, entertained by the frantic side of the normally suave, composed teen. “Think nothing of it, Namjoon. You have nothing you need to apologize to me for.”

Your expression darkened slightly as you continued. “If anything, I should apologize for not trusting you all more.”

Namjoon’s lips quivered, desperately wanting to form a victorious smirk, but he settled for an understanding smile.

In the end, he’d been right.

As usual.

“Who remains close to you, who you decide to trust, that’s completely your decision. You should never have to apologize for it.” Namjoon said.

You smiled in acknowledgement, then furrowed your brows in confusion when Namjoon started to dig around in his bag.

“I heard we were gift giving this week.” He pulled out a beautiful, leather bound journal and fountain pen and carefully placed the items on your lap. 

“This is absolutely gorgeous. How did you know I like writing?” You smiled. 

Of course he knew. He knew everything about you.

“I didn’t,” he replied, shrugging with a small smile. “I like to write in journals as a form of catharsis, and thought you might want to try.”

“Thank you so much.” You lifted an arm up and gestured for a one armed hug, one that Namjoon happily accepted.

Clutching the journal to your chest, you gathered the courage to ask him the question that had been running around in your head the past week.

“Namjoon?”

“Yes?”

“How did you guys find me in time?”

The elder clenched his jaw and shifted his gaze aside as if he couldn’t beat to direct his apparent anger and frustration toward you. 

“We heard from Jimin that Aemilia took you and interrogated the police commissioner about any of our private guard’s movements. He fessed and told us that Aemilia told him that I texted her, claiming that there was another soul in need of punishment.” 

Namjoon grit his teeth, vexation rolling off of him in waves as he practically hissed out his words. “He authorized members of our private force to move under her order in order to subdue you.”

Recounting the ridiculous lie that the redhead told her father, and the father’s idiotic tendency to believe her, made his blood hot.

“After we heard that, we rushed to all the places in the forest that the Augustus men might have taken you. Thankfully, we got to Lorne’s Ledge in time and Jimin was able to save you before you could fall off the edge.”

“Are you sure?” You said. “I could have sworn I stepped off...I thought I was a goner.”

Namjoon shook his head. “We definitely got there in time to save you. You sustained several head injuries, so I’d understand if you didn’t see Jimin or blacked out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, pondering his response for several moments before nodding at his answer. 

There was no way you would ever be able to forget what happened that night.

You knew for a fact that your feet had left the ledge. 

But he was right, you did take several nasty hits from Byun and Lee.

You wanted to keep asking him questions, but the pained, forced look in his eye made you pause on that front.

Perhaps that projection you saw of your mother had actually been Jimin.

You wrung your hands together. 

“What matters now is that you’re safe and sound.” Namjoon gently placed his hand atop yours and gave it a supporting squeeze. “All you need to focus on is getting better. We definitely won’t let them get away with this.”

You nodded again, smiling slightly at Namjoon in thanks for his concern.

——————————————————————

Halfway across town, Aemilia Augustus paced around in her room, practically biting off her perfectly manicured nails in worry.

It had been seven days. 

Seven days of nothing.

Not a single word had come in from Byun or Lee.

When she arrived at school that first day and heard everyone talking about your absence, she felt pure and utter bliss. 

There was no joy like the joy she felt in that moment.

Such euphoria simply couldn’t be replaced.

The only moments that could possibly top it were her future engagement with Kim Namjoon, or the day she would take over her family business.

Because so many days went by without a single peep at your face, she thought her plan was working. 

She felt on top of the world.

But Byun and Lee were two of the most promising soldiers on the squad. There was no reason as to why they were taking so long to get back to her to confirm your measly little death.

As a result, she was starting to panic.

Of course, she had an emergency plan. 

She had no need for it, as there was no way her plan could go wrong, but she always had to be prepared, after all.

Just as she was about to take deep breaths to calm herself down, she jumped at the sound of pounding footsteps and yelps drifting into her room from downstairs.

She heard the annoying cry of her mother and father, and then the sound of several people talking.

A grim chill fell over her.

Unexpectedly, her plan had gone horribly, horribly wrong.

There wasn’t much time left now, as she could hear the footsteps get closer and closer.

To hell with her parents--their capture was inevitable.

Aemilia Augustus would not be captured like a criminal, not as long as she was alive and well.

Aemilia padded over to her bedroom door, shutting it closed as softly as possible and smacking the lights off.

She dove into her walk-in closet and squeezed herself as tightly as possible into a corner, a rack of evening gowns and day dresses covering her.

Every couple of minutes, a door would slam open and she listened, holding a hand over her mouth as the pounding feet searched every room on her floor.

It didn’t take them long to arrive at her room, and she shook as she heard them throw things around.

A rectangle of light shone into the room as someone opened the closet door and Aemilia stilled as though she were encased in ice.

It was silent for a long, dreadful moment. The officer turned their head this way and that, walking into the room and turning on the light to search.

From where Aemilia was hidden, there was no way they would be able to find her. She thanked Wylynne that she hadn’t taken up on her mother’s offer to hire a maid to clean her closet.

The officer turned away to leave and Aemilia cheered in her heart.

After the guards left the premises, she would collect as many valuables as possible from the house and run off to her family’s private home in another part of town. From there, she would plan what to do next.

Her plan wasn’t perfect, but she would be able to get away with it.

Or at least, she thought she would.

Just as the officer was about to close the door, a strong, invisible force yanked Aemilia out from her hiding spot and she came crashing down noisily from behind the evening gowns, taking a few with her.

The officer immediately turned around, beckoning his partner to get her. 

She hurriedly gripped a platform heel and attempted to plunge it in the man’s eye, but he caught her wrist and painfully twisted her arm behind her back.

The redhead screeched in fury and pain. His partner soon joined him, and they dragged her out into her room, each officer tightly holding on to one of her arms.

“What are you doing? Unhand me this instant!” She shrieked, writhing around in an attempt to escape. “Have you forgotten who you take orders from?!”

“No, but it seems as though you have.” 

She paused at the sound of that familiar voice.

Her beloved casually strode into the room in all of his glory, his head held high, that ever present cocky, amused smile that she loved so much on his face.

“Namjoon.” She whimpered. “Namjoon, they’re hurting me.”

The student body president kneeled down in front of her and gently took her chin in his hands.

Her eyes filled with tears and she stuck out her bottom lip, waiting for Namjoon to tell the men to let her go. They better anticipate the earful they were about to receive. How dare they treat their future queen this way?

Namjoon lovingly stroked her cheek with his thumb, wiping away her tear. She nuzzled her cheek into his hand, looking up at him with a pitiful gaze. He smiled at her.

Surely he would save her.

Aemilia closed her eyes, suppressing a victorious smile as she felt Namjoon pull his hand away from her face.

But rather than the sound of him barking orders, she was met with the sound of a harsh slap.

Her eyes flew open in shock.

Her face stung.

“Nam..joon...?” She whispered, stupefied.

The senior was sneering down at her, pulling a handkerchief out the square pocket of his jacket and wiping his hand on it.

“What disgusting thoughts you have,” the man spat, dropping the handkerchief in another subordinate’s hand. 

“Burn that.” He commanded.

Aemilia simply stared up at him in disbelief. 

Had he...hit her?

“Namjoon, why are you doing this?” Her voice trembled. “You’d never hit me, you’re my...we’re-”

“Nothing.” Namjoon interrupted with a disinterested gaze. “I am not your anything. I’ve never given you any inclination that could lead you to assume that I loved you, or liked you, or cared for you in the slightest.”

Aemilia dropped to her knees in incredulity. 

“That’s not true! You cared for me, I know you did! Ever since that (h/c) haired bitch appeared, you’ve turned away from me!” She screeched, her shrill voice piercing their ears. “I should’ve gotten rid of her sooner!”

As soon as the words left her mouth, all the air in Aemilia’s lungs disappeared. She heaved her chest, trying to breath, but found herself unable to.

He squatted down to face her.

“Let’s get one thing absolutely clear.” Namjoon spoke in a frighteningly low tone. “I never cared for you. You were nothing more than a useful little pawn in my game. A pawn who somehow tricked herself into believing she could become a queen.”

Her face turned redder and redder from anger, embarrassment, and the lack of oxygen.

“(Y/N) is more of a queen than you could ever be,” Namjoon stated, smiling at the memory of you sitting up in your hospital bed, grinning at him, the sun forming a halo behind your head. “She’s an angel. Our precious everything.”

He turned his gaze back to the creature before him. “She isn’t someone the likes of you can ever attempt to touch, much less harm or overthrow.”

Namjoon straightened, moving to walk towards the entrance to her room. “That’s my fault, I’m afraid. After all, I wasn’t able to properly regulate my inferiors.”

Black dots swam at the edge of Aemilia’s vision. She kept her eyes locked on Namjoon, still praying that this was all a prank or a joke, and that he would comfort her by sweeping her up into his arms.

“You truly have no idea what’s going to happen to you, do you?” He chuckled with a mirthless smile. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix that soon enough.”

Finally, her body gave in and shut down from the lack of oxygen. The redhead flopped over on her side, Namjoon’s cruel glare burned into the backs of her eyes.

——————————————————————

On the morning of the seventh day, you took advantage of your solitude by pondering the events of this week and the rather complicated emotions that came with them. 

Despite their reputation and despite your fears, you had grown closer to the Kims over the past month. 

They never threatened or harmed you or the people you cared about. They had welcomed you into their lives with open arms. 

You had kept them at an arms length in an effort to protect yourself and your loved ones. But what had distancing yourself from them gained you?

Still, there was no way your method could be wrong. It was your livelihood, your path to survival in Ichabod. 

There were rules here, rules that couldn’t be broken. 

Yet the majority of those rules had been broken the moment you invited Jimin to sit with you at lunch.

Was it even possible that an alternative path to salvation freedom existed?

Had the Kims truly provided another way? 

Your mother went around the room collecting and packing up your things for you as Mana helped you change in the bathroom, making sure to be careful of your still-healing shoulder.

When they left to fetch your discharge papers, you sat at the edge of the hospital bed and deliberated what could potentially be one of the most important decisions of your life.——————————————————————

i am so, so, so sorry for taking longer than usual to post! college and midterm season caught up with me--i’ll try not to let assignments interfere with my writing schedule in the future ;-;-; thank you so much for sticking with me through the wait! the long awaited day has finally come! revenge has never been so sweet hehe. also, the way that i have no idea how to write fight scenes--pfft. i hope you all enjoy the chapter <33

~taglist~

@melaninkpops @loserwithapen @hellaspookystudent @ecillartto @omgsuperstarg @ace-angel-judas @jjamsbangtan @lovinggalaxies @lovesick-heart0 @ksxmpoison @girlmeetsliv3 @thedarkwinterrose @purpuravm @oneweirdbean @hopelessfountainjoonie @mazmaz30 @enigmaticlove-03 @uppiespuppy @queenceline22 @kokofikats @taeyohonic @creatorspalace @supertweetycherry @anachikartadze @itsfeliciatime 

[ganymedesclock]

So I discovered the trailer for Belle (2021), and it’s making me think about what I love about Beauty and the Beast riffs, and what makes a story scratch that particular itch for me or not.

And I think a huge part of it for me is the examination of monstrosity as a social role. To just use Disney’s animated classic as my base for comparison here, Adam, The Beast, is not literally cursed with fur and fangs, claws and horns- he has those things, and may have mixed feelings about them, others certainly have bad reactions to them-

-his curse is ostracization. His curse is to not be seen as human. What actual, physical features he has are irrelevant to that. They’re just quirks he can learn to live with, or a further excuse to tell himself he deserves this isolation, this frustration, this misery.

So the breaking of the curse, to me, is not the scene where Belle sobs confirmation of what we knew well before then into his stilling chest and brings him back, minus those quirks- if anything, that his happiness comes with the loss of those things has seemed to me (and I’m not alone) as almost something of a betrayal depending on how it’s framed.

By contrast, to me, the breaking of the curse is the ballroom scene, and the moments leading up to it. Adam returns to Adam, rather than The Beast, at the point that he decides that he deserves to be treated like a human being- not as a labor of love from Belle, but from himself. Yes, it’s love with Belle that they dance together, that they have this ball scene when there’s no high society to impress, but before that point, he had to make a decision; that he can clean up and dress nice and have an evening. That he deserves to.

When we first see The Beast, he has all of the means and resources to act like a prince, to present like one. He could make himself comfortable and be surrounded by splendor, but the truest thing he suffers under is he’s ceased to see himself as worth the effort. It’s not as if he could cut the fur down and prune back his claws, file down the horns, and look the way he feels he ought to- the way he thinks he should. He’s broken every mirror in his house except for the one he hides from, and this is a gesture of absolute defeat. He knows what he looks like. He can’t pretend he doesn’t. The only way he can tolerate this is not looking at himself.

As a neurodivergent queer person, the monster in the mirror is something I have a very complicated relationship with. I have an “advantage” in some ways. My appearance is not shocking to most people. I do not benefit from an obvious mobility aid or assistive device; I speak within a range people think of is normal. I have an “unusual haircut” for a “girl” and I don’t aggressively correct people on my pronouns or presentation.

But I’ve always had this feeling, that perhaps, my fangs and fur were simply easy things to trim off, and it’s so easy to wonder, would I still be okay if they weren’t? Because really, it’s none of the granular details that make a monster. For every imagined horror creature, there’s almost certainly a real animal it resembles, and real animals are not monsters. A monster is a monster; anything else, we believe, has a place, has a home. Deserves to exist.

To be a monster is to be a thing that doesn’t fit, or, more directly, to be a monster is to be a thing that is unaccepted. Rejected for not fitting. Unworthy of love, from within, or without.

At the end of the day, I know, factually, I am not a monster. I know that I’m a real person. I know that I deserve dignity and respect and love, even if only from myself. I’m not owed another person to love me just to prove that I can be, but, also, no man is an island; as humans we seek each other one way or another, romantically or platonically. That’s a fact of anyone, not just people who struggle to see a real person when they look at their reflection.

And yet, at this same time, I can’t help but feel betrayed, left behind, when the narrative goes that if the monster does everything right its reward is to be shaped into the likeness of a Real Human Being. Because you can’t just pull a feathered skin off me and make me like I “should be”, like my various diagnoses and self-identifications all present me as an aberration from. If you showed me a me without any of those qualities, that’s honestly the thing I’m the most afraid of, a me without me. A Miss Perfect who’s a good, normative daughter, and in my insecurity I wonder if people would like her so much better than me that they wouldn’t miss if I was gone.

Which, that’s nonsense. I know a lot of people who care about me the way I am. But nobody ever said fears had to be rational.

At the end of the day, as much as I hate the idea of being a monster to others, I also relish the notion of qualities that are categorized as monsters. I love dragons. I love putting big, horrible teeth and leering eyes and wings and claws on heroic characters. Because brought into the light, qualities are just qualities. And if you bring those qualities into the favoring, soft light of stories about human connection, romances, queerplatonic bonds, friendships and found family alike, those qualities can even be charming, alluring, inspiring; a character can look like anything and we still feel a rush of reassurance that this specific character is there.

And that’s the other side of Beauty and the Beast: Adam is running away from being a monster, and Belle is trying to run away from who she is, too. Because Belle is the other side of that trap.

Let’s be honest; it isn’t just that Belle’s an outspoken woman with opinions. It’s that she’s pretty. She’s the prettiest girl in town. She’s someone people want, people have expectations for- and those expectations have little room for what she actually wants. Hell, that’s one of the major dangerous driving forces of the climax- Adam nearly gets murdered by a mob because Belle made a choice that her community really didn’t like, especially Gaston, and it’s easy to point to Adam as the wrong choice because he’s pointy.

“Beauty”, as much as “The Beast”, are dehumanizing categories that people are sorted into. The doll and the monster. One is considered beneath monstrosity; beguiling, an object of appeal and desire but not someone with opinions, oh no, and not someone able to make a choice that you disagree with. People driven to the fringes by opposing forces but regardless find each other in the place they’re trying to find room to breathe in.

And that, I think, is one way some of these riffs can, for me personally, miss the point- and that’s not a mark against them, it’s just that there’s a specific thing I see in this story, and it’s very specifically not, “to be beautiful and desirable to mass public consumption is the way to be happy; we will have a story about how to rehabilitate someone so they can be beautiful too” but rather, “what does it mean when people stop seeing you as yourself, whether the alternative is perfection or a monster? what would you do to be seen clearly?”

[theartistknownaslymond]

Whumptober 2022 day 23

Forced to Kneel | Tied to a Table | “Hold them down.”

*sound of catching-up intensifies*

No whipping posts in the band AU, just have to rely on good old-fashioned kicking :’)

CW: a beating (inside a tent, so claustrophobia warning!), broken ribs, general GRM nastiness and references to what went down between Francis and Joleta and Joleta’s overdose. Joleta lying about things, Francis using whisky as a painkiller, also guitars as weapons.

Also something really weird happened switching between desktop and mobile editors and it screwed up the order of a bunch of paragraphs so let me know if any still seem out of order 😮‍💨

---

Francis' usual pre-gig routine was always disturbed when he was at a music festival. Peace and quiet were relative only, and he had to entrust set up and soundcheck to the roadies provided. There was little to do other than wait.

He might try to sneak off into the crowds in order to watch a band lower down the listings play - but sneaking was rarely an option these days. He'd graced the covers of too many magazines and people were on the lookout for him. His presence at a set might make or break a young band if he was noticed there - his expression could guarantee them a record contract or result in their immediate split.

He hated it. There was no such thing as simply being curious about new music, not for him, not any more.

So he went to lie down in his tent and to listen for anything other than the beat from the main stage.

It wasn't a particularly hot afternoon, but inside the blue canvas the sun was trapped and the air was stuffy. Francis closed his eyes and focussed on the sound of a fly battering against the inside of the tent, and another on the outside, its legs scrabbling on woven, water-proofed cotton.

The blue light was warm on his eyelids. In the distance the bass thudded and the crowds screamed. The ground beneath his tent roll and his flattened sleeping bag was hard and uneven - divots of grass and old pock-marks left by the hooves of the cattle that normally grazed this land were undulations he felt with the muscles of his back and legs. Habitually, his mind picked away at these thoughts in search of inspiration. He considered the land as a palimpsest, thought about its years of use...

The flies continued to scuff and scratch and buffet against the canvas, and Francis' lip quirked up in a smirk that was honest because it couldn't be seen by anyone else. His lips moved as he recited William Blake's poem, though he did not speak it aloud:

 Little fly,

Thy summer’s play

My thoughtless hand

Has brushed away.

Am not I

A fly like thee?

Or art not thou

A man like me?

For I dance

And drink and sing,

Till some blind hand

Shall brush my wing.

If thought is life

And strength and breath,

And the want

Of thought is death,

Then am I

A happy fly,

If I live,

Or if I die.

By not speaking it aloud he felt as though he was testing his belief in it, rolling its assertions around in his mind to see whether or not he agreed. He found that it didn't fully sit with him like it might once have done. Ambition dug its heels in and rejected the ambivalence towards death - there were things he might do first. St Marys had already proved itself useful in achieving what he couldn't have managed alone with a band, and the men he was working with were learning their lessons well - though Francis felt he still had much he wanted them to learn and understand. There was much that he wanted to learn and understand alongside them.

He was thinking of the extraordinary tapes and songs Salah had managed to smuggle out of the war in the Aouzou Strip. His heart kindled with a secret thrill as he imagined that he might learn some of Salah's techniques, and his thoughts were lost under the Libyan sun when the shadows of several figures fell over his tent.

The tent flap opened silently, but it let in a bracing gust of evening air.

Francis sighed, preparing to congratulate Swami Vadan on finding him, to offer the leadership that Vadan needed in response to whatever minor inconvenience had been encountered during the stage set-up.

Instead, he opened his eyes and saw another linen-robed sannyasin gazing at him.

Swami Geetesh's face looked purple under the light of the canvas. His eyes glittered with malice and there was no friendly mask softening his square jaw and broad, high cheek bones. There was no guileless calm or self-satisfied peace there today: only anticipation, thirsty and fevered.

Francis pushed himself up on his elbows. He noticed the shadows of other figures on the sides of the tent and he realised just what sort of trouble he was about to be in.

"Swami Geetesh. You were granted compassionate leave for this fixture."

Geetesh's lips moved in a sneer. He stared with unblinking hunger at Francis. "Yes, how compassionate of you. Since you have sullied and used my sister, since you nearly killed her with your carelessness."

Francis' jaw tightened. He had said all there was to say on that matter already. Whatever confession Geetesh hoped to elicit now would tell him nothing new.

"Since you care for her so devoutly, I thought you might want to spend time with her while she recovers."

Geetesh lowered his head a little, so the shadows in his eyes deepened. "Actually, I have come to the conclusion that what I need is revenge, dear Francis. I am not yet an enlightened man - the path is a long one and rarely follows a direct line."

Francis did not show the fear that began to eat away at his bones. The inside of the tent seemed a lot darker and colder than before - outside, twilight was descending on the festival. Their headline slot wasn't far away now, and Geetesh evidently intended that Francis would never make it to the stage.

"If it's revenge you want, I can give you the name of the hospital that prescribed the painkillers she took," Francis said steadily, anger lending an archness to his voice.

Geetesh shook his head and smirked. His plan was not about to be derailed by minor inconveniences of history and fact. "How can you be trusted to lead a social enterprise, to preach of change and charity through culture, when you yourself behave so despicably? When you use your status to justify breaking a girl - little more than a child - on the rack of your...sinful body. It displays a truly staggering arrogance, my dove."

Outside the tent someone asked something.

"Wait," Geetesh barked. He turned back to Francis. "I'm afraid it's better if I take St Marys from you. You're not cut out for that sort of business - but I can make use of you in the studio."

Francis laughed hollowly. "You think I'll work for you?"

"I know it," Geetesh purred. "It's in your stars, my dear. I will have you on your knees, begging for me to include you." He tweaked one of Francis' toes playfully and backed out of the tent with a grin on his face.

Nearby, someone switched on a boombox and the opening bars of Satisfaction (I Can't Get No) blasted out.

"Hold the corners down," Geetesh instructed, and then Francis had seconds to prepare, curling himself tightly into a ball beneath the thin padding of his sleeping bag, wrapping his arms around his head - and the blows began to rain down on him and the tent.

Tent poles snapped, canvas bowed and ripped, and feet and other weapons thudded against Francis' body. Someone was using a baton of some kind, really whaling blows down on him with reckless glee - though the impacts were padded, spread by something that was wrapped around the weapon, as well as by the layers of tent and bedding burying Francis.

He thought of the building collapse in Berlin, phantom pain - oh god, it was phantom, wasn't it? - lancing through his leg and hip. This was similar, but more like being caught in the collapse of a pillow fort as the fort itself tried to devour him whole. Some of the blows hit the remnants of the tent poles that lay over his body and he felt the impacts bruise, metal and bamboo driven against him with weight and pressure above them.

He had no idea how long they worked him over - they took the boombox with them when they were done, and his ears rang with the blows so he couldn't have said what the last song playing had been.

It was a struggle to breathe under the cover of the sleeping bag and the collapsed tent. The air was hot and tasted of blood. A downy feather, burst from the battered sleeping bag, clung to his lip, and when Francis fought to free himself he was introduced to the full extent of the damage they'd achieved.

There were broken ribs, that was certain. Francis groaned and gritted his teeth and tried to curl around the pain, but that movement hurt just as much. He tried to steady himself, his palm pressed to the groundsheet beneath him, touching the hard, uneven earth below. He felt like he was running out of oxygen, his own breath coming back to him, moist and hot beneath the covers.

He moved more carefully this time, one hand, trembling, fumbling the sleeping bag off him so that only the tent lay above his face. His fingers found a tear in the fabric and worked their way through, pushing, trying to stretch the hole.

To his astonishment, another set of fingers gripped his - he flinched and let out a cry of pain as the movement jarred his bruised and fractured body.

"Mr Crawford?!" The voice was a young girl's, breathless and afraid.

He let out an agonising sigh and an even more painful laugh of relief. "Philippa? Is that you?"

"Oh, Mr Crawford, I saw what they did! Are you ok?" She pulled at the tear in the fabric and Francis' hand was free, then his forearm, then he could squint up at her and spit the feather from his bloodied lip.

"I can honestly say that I've been better, Miss Somerville," he grinned for her. "But I can also honestly say that I've been worse."

Philippa's frown didn't ease, but she was ruthless about the tent and soon had him freed. Francis managed to make himself sit up amid the wreckage, though bands of fiery agony clasped his torso and breathing alone made the edges of his vision blur and blacken.

"What are you doing here, then?" he asked her, determined to make pleasant conversation rather than acknowledge the worry in her brown eyes.

Philippa bit her lip. "I snuck away. Mum's with Letty. But Letty told me... She told me something I thought you should know. I thought it might help you."

Francis blinked - the gesture doubled as genuine response and momentary pause to survey the pain that came in ceaseless waves over him. "Help me? Should I be the one asking if you are ok?"

Philippa's eyes went very large and round. She knelt demurely, sitting on her feet, her hands pressed between her knees and her lower lip getting ragged as she chewed it. "I've been...a bit unfair maybe. But this is serious. Letty lied to you - she said she was pregnant and she's not. But I heard Mr Gee...Swami Geetesh telling the men from St Marys that you killed the baby on purpose with the drugs."

Francis sighed and bowed his head. He reached out for one of Philippa's hands and she gave it to him hesitatingly. "Thank you, Philippa," he smiled at the pooled mess of fabric around him. "Thank you. I know she was lying. But perhaps you could tell me which men Swami Geetesh brought with him?"

She nodded, confused, but hopeful that she could still be of use.

"And then, I may need your assistance in reaching the stage - we will be due on very soon, I imagine."

"Oh, Mr Crawford, you can't - "

She stopped at a glance from him, his eyebrows raised and his cracked lip smiling patiently, sadly. "Will you help me? It might be the only time you are justified in doing so. I will not always have such a righteous cause, Philippa."

She stood and arranged the strap of her little cross-body bag like an adventurer preparing for an epic journey. "That's ok, I'm not prone to hero worship. I just believe in justice," Philippa said grandly, with unmistakeable shades of Gideon Somerville in her voice.

Francis' smile was no less melancholy, but he let her do what she could to aid him to stand, and he managed to limp through the darkening campsite with her help.

She told him what he had suspected to be true of the other men - they were techs and roadies who would claim themselves seduced by Joleta to varying degrees. White knights with no interest in helping the girl herself - unless it was to obtain drugs and booze for her - but who had been quite prepared to join Geetesh in avenging her honour against a tyrant. They would be cleared out of St Marys - just as the Rajneeshees and their parasitic power trip would be.

Francis washed the blood from his mouth in the uneven plastic mirror in the back of a portaloo door, using a bottle of sparkling mineral water Philippa had obtained from the concessions tent. There seemed to be precious little evidence of the beating otherwise visible on his body. There were a couple of bruises - long, tent-pole shaped shadows on his arms and back - but by and large the damage was internal, submerged beneath skin and tissue.

Philippa objected to the end - St Marys were already on stage, they'd already apologised for Francis, he had no need to go up there... But Francis had to show Geetesh that he wouldn't get his way that easily.

He took a look at the rider before going on stage and forced back about a third of a bottle of blended whisky. It was the quickest way to trick himself into not feeling the pain of his ribs with every movement. It was what he needed in order to be able to get the guitar strap over his head. In order to endure the feeling of its weight against his torso. He blinked and coughed - winced, took another mouthful of the spirit - and then thanked Philippa again before hauling himself up the stairs to the wing of the stage.

His Fender was out there, already prepared for him on its stand. Geetesh was leading a smooth version of one of the songs from the latest album, playing the Gibson Francis usually kept to a different tuning. Adam was bent over the keyboards, his hair flopping wildly as he hammered the notes out, Archie was sweating away on the drums, and Vadan was playing a bored, perfunctory bass part - filling in while the two first choice bassists languished in separate wards of Glasgow Royal Infirmary. Fergie twirled her own drumsticks with idle confidence between contributing on the drum pads, and Alec Guthrie moved his fingers meticulously, cleverly across the deck of his own synthesiser.

It was all fine, but the balance was off - Geetesh was trying to be two guitar parts in one, and Francis was sorely needed.

At first, Geetesh thought the swelling roar of the crowd was for him, and he beamed and let out a show-offy riff between verses. By the time he turned to see what had got the other band members' attention, Francis had managed to secure his guitar and was ready to join in.

He nodded calmly at Vadan and at Geetesh, and slipped into the stream of the music with ease, glad, at least, to have that to distract him from the excruciating pain in his body.

Geetesh merely cast him a condescending smirk and turned back to his mic, but Vadan continued to stare at Francis. He moved restlessly with his bass, sauntering across the stage, trailing its cable around his sandalled feet.

Francis thought, from a distance, that it was anger that was foremost in Vadan's dark eyes, but as he strolled closer, worry could be detected also.

"Where were you? Is something wrong?" Vadan leaned in to call the questions into Francis' ear.

Francis shook his head and concentrated on his guitar. "Later..." he told Vadan. "I'm fine."

The effort needed to force the words out with enough volume that Vadan could hear him almost undid the statement - Francis closed his eyes and swallowed down a rising tide of nausea at the lancing pain in his ribs.

Vadan was clearly not convinced, and mooched about the stage close by, pacing restlessly and apparently missing the wild effort Francis usually put into sharing solos with him.

Geetesh announced the next song and invited Francis to sing it, a cruel amusement lighting his eyes as he glanced back over the stage.

It could be done - more as a spoken word piece than was usually the case, but maybe the audience would feel gratified to be granted an exclusive live version of a track they already knew well. Francis managed it, his eyes screwed up, his teeth millimetres from the metal of the mic, his lips pressed to it like it was a life-giving source of sustenance. He was sweating with the effort and with the heat of the stage lights, and he was in no state to shuffle around the stage wielding his guitar like an axe as they segued into the instrumental part of the song.

Vadan and Geetesh were, of course, free to dance and play. They played back to back at first, Vadan grinning at the contact with his master, his bare brown chest shining under the multi-coloured spot lights. Then Geetesh moved away and stamped one foot and swung his guitar as he did. He repeated the gesture on the beat, moving gradually across the stage, followed by Vadan, who tried to keep up with his moves, his head down and his black hair wild around his face.

Too late, Francis appreciated Geetesh's intentions. Vadan never did.

Turning once he'd reached Francis' side of the stage, Geetesh once more swung the neck of his guitar up over his left shoulder as he played. Vadan had come too close, straightening up, ready to back towards Geetesh as he often did when playing with Francis. Francis was trapped behind the mic, mid-way through singing the bridge, when Geetesh swung the guitar in an arc around his torso so that the head if the instrument collided with Vadan's cheek and the body of the guitar slammed back against Francis' ribs.

Francis must have made a sound, but he couldn't have said what it was or how it might be interpreted within the tone of the song.

When he managed to peel his scrunched up eyes open he saw he was on his knees before the mic, his guitar still held in his lap.

Geetesh was still playing, gazing down at him with cool, appreciative pleasure. Play your solo then, he mouthed. On your knees.

Francis had to unlock the pain from his stiffened fingers and remind them what to do, but he managed to join in with the song again before the end, and watched Geetesh saunter back over to the other side of the stage and speak his thank yous to the audience.

While the crowds cheered - they'd always be more willing to believe in stagecraft and rock-'n'-roll than in disaster and real consequences - Vadan crouched by him.

Francis gasped to see the blood under his friend's nose, where Geetesh's guitar had caught him full in the face. Vadan didn't seem perturbed by it, and he swiped it away with the back of his wrist, leaving a red streak across his cheek.

"Francis, what happened? Can you play?" he asked urgently, thickly through the still-welling blood.

Francis looked out at the audience and looked over at Geetesh. Geetesh grinned viciously over his shoulder. "I think poor, dear Lymond may have to admit defeat on this one..." he told the audience.

They booed, and Francis tensed, trying to think about how he'd get to his feet.

Vadan's hand weighed his shoulder down though, and the man who used to be called Jerott Blyth shook his head. "Don't be stupid, you look like you're about to faint!"

"You see how reluctant he was to let you down," Geetesh told the audience in a mock-sympathetic voice, gesturing at Francis with an outflung arm. "But he's just too ill. Now, I'll give you all a word of advice, all you festival-goers..." the crowd hollared and heckled, but Geetesh didn't mind. He smiled and leaned into the mic, turning to eye up Francis as he did. "Beware of the falafel van..." he chuckled.

The Scottish crowd let out a delighted thunderclap of laughter, whistling and jeering their agreement.

Vadan assisted Francis in getting the guitar up over his head, and replaced it tenderly on its stand before returning to help him up too.

There was nothing for it - he had to accept the hand he was being offered, and Francis gripped Vadan's knuckles with all the strength of his fury as he rose to his shaking legs.

"Oh, Lymond, I dreamed of seeing you on your knees for me..." Geetesh couldn't resist adding as Francis stumbled to the side of the stage, one hand waving perfunctorily at the crowd.

Vadan stared at Geetesh in shock; Archie hastily passed a message over to Fergie; Geetesh announced the next song; and Francis let himself return to the ministrations of a worried teenager.

[the-iceni-bitch]

Sweeter Than This

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!spy!Reader

Words: Mobile again ☹️

Summary: You almost miss your first Valentine’s Day with Bucky, but you have a plan to make it up to him.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex(f receiving), salad tossing, unprotected anal sex, use of butt plug), violence (standard canon stuff), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: Happy V-Day y’all! Here’s the next entry in my Holidays With Bucky series (with so Sam sprinkled in) and it’s a fun one! Unfortunately, the power is out at my place right now due to snow and because my city sucks at preparations I’m probably not going to have power until at least Monday, so we’ll see if I’m able to deliver on my other promised Valentine’s treats for you all.

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

Bucky hated clubs so much.

The loud music, the overcrowding, the overpriced drinks. He was absolutely miserable.

It didn’t help that Sam was bouncing around like an idiot, enjoying the atmosphere with a stupid grin on his face. Would it kill the man to act like a professional for once?

They’d followed the target to the Cross Club here in Prague after four days of surveillance with nothing to show for it, and now they were watching him talk to some new player in a VIP booth. God he hoped this would be over soon.

“What?” Buck shouted over the music. Sam had said something, but even with his super soldier hearing, he couldn’t make it out over the thumping bass.

“I said, is Y/N pissed you’re missing Valentines Day?” Sam yelled, his hips still moving in time to the music.

Bucky did some quick mental math and cursed under his breath. He hadn’t seen you in almost 3 weeks. You had to head back to the States for some stupid debrief with Sharon and the big bosses while he and Sam kept chasing leads on Zemo here in Europe. He hadn’t even realized it was Valentines Day.

“Shit, he’s moving.” Sam said, tapping Buck on the shoulder as the mark stood up and moved towards the dance floor.

“Fuck, can’t we go around?” Bucky whined, starting to follow after Sam towards the crowd.

“Y’know, when your girlfriend’s not around, you’re such an old man.” Sam teased. “We don’t wanna lose him, so pull the stick out of your ass and try to look like you’re enjoying yourself.”

Buck just rolled his eyes and trailed after him, doing his best to avoid the writhing, sweaty bodies that kept trying to grind against him. Sam was right, it was a lot easier to enjoy these types of ops when you were with him.

He didn’t know how they managed to keep eyes on the target as he moved through the crowd, but they saw him head out one of the exits and were following after him within a few minutes.

“Hey, Wilson? Where the fuck is he?” Buck hissed as he opened the door to an empty alley.

“Shit, hold on, let me pull up Redwing.”

“I still can’t believe you named that fucking thing.” Buck said exasperatedly.

Sam didn’t have a chance to reply before a motorcycle ripped past the two of them.

“Was that him?” Bucky yelled as he whipped his head after it. “Motherfucker!”

“Calm down, I got it.” Sam said, summoning his wings.

“Oh, I guess I’ll just run after him then? I told you we should’ve brought a car!”

“I could carry you.” Sam said teasingly, giving Bucky a stupid grin.

“Oh fuck you.” Buck said, flipping Sam off as he chuckled at him. “Shit!”

The two of them dove out of the way as a Lexus tore into the alley, stopping just short of hitting them.

“Hey assholes! Happy Valentine’s Day!!!” You shouted as you rolled down the window, a massive grin splitting your face.

“Baby!? What’re you doing here?!?” Bucky asked, beaming back at you.

“I had to get the fuck out of D.C. There was no way I’d miss our first Valentine’s Day! Besides, I missed the field! Now get in, I managed to tag his bike but I don’t want him to get out of range.”

“Shotgun!” Sam called with a grin on his face, making you laugh.

“What?!? Fuck you Wilson! You’re gonna make me sit in the back when this is the first time I’ve seen my girl in weeks?” Bucky said in disbelief.

“Sorry Barnes, you should’ve called it!”

“Yeah babe, you really should’ve called it.” You teased as he crawled into the back of the vehicle with a scowl.

“I can’t believe you’re taking his side.” He pouted at you as Sam climbed after him, bringing the back of his seat up to crash against Buck’s knees.

“There’s no sides, honey, it’s shotgun rules.” You said as you peeled out of the alleyway.

“Whatever, could you move your seat up Wilson?”

“Nope.” Sam said grinning over his shoulder before cursing under his breath and bracing one hand against the ceiling as you swerved around a slow moving van. “Jesus, Y/N! Maybe take it a little slower, we’re still in the city.”

You just snorted before taking a sharp turn at an inadvisable speed, barely tapping on the brakes and sending Bucky sliding across the backseat.

“Put your seatbelts on, idiots.” You scolded as the two of them tried to find something to grab onto.

“Honey, pedestrian, pedestrian, Pedestrian!!!” Buck screamed as he buckled himself in, screwing his eyes closed.

“Yeah, I see them.” You said as you took another turn at the last second, barely missing the man who was crossing the street.

“Oh my god! This is how I’m going to die.” Sam said, his knuckles white on the dashboard as you flew up a hill, the car actually suspending in midair for a beat before crashing back to the street with a jolt. “Stuck in a car with a crazy woman and her 100 year old boyfriend.”

“You’re so fucking dramatic.” You said with an eye roll, glancing at him sideways. “It’s like you’ve never been in a high speed chase before.”

“Eyes on the road!” Bucky shouted at you as an unsuspecting couple started to step off the curb directly into your path.

You hopped onto the walkway behind them to avoid the brake lights in front of you and your two passengers started letting out a steady stream of curses as you weaved between pedestrians and carts.

“Just relax you two, we’ve almost got him.” You said exasperatedly, somehow speeding up even more.

You rounded another corner and the bike popped into view, speeding out of the city at a breakneck speed.

“Shit, gun!” Sam screamed as the biker turned around, hefting an AK-47 and pointing it directly at the windshield.

He and Bucky ducked, hands covering their heads. They flinched as they heard a series of pops, then straightened up slowly when they realized the windshield was still intact.

“Yeah, it’s bulletproof.” You said with a grin as you kept the car steady with one hand, reaching under your seat to grab something. You handed a giant pistol to Sam. “There should be a rifle under the backseat, baby.”

“And what exactly do you want us to do with these?” Sam asked warily as Bucky drew out the rifle and nodded appreciatively.

“Shoot at him.” You said, following the bike around a sharp turn that had the boys bracing themselves.

“Fuck that! If you think I’m sticking half my body out of a window while you’re driving like this you’re insane!” Sam said in disbelief. “Besides the car is bulletproof.

“Yeah, well the tires aren’t, and if he hits one of those while I’m driving this fast, we’re all gonna get shredded.”

Bucky shook his head before rolling down his window and pulling his upper body out of the car, bringing the rifle up to return fire.

“You are both fucking crazy!” Sam said, rolling his own window down and shoving his shoulders out, bringing up his pistol.

The biker turned his focus to Bucky while Sam covered him, and you took the opportunity to speed up.

“What’re you doing, babe?” Bucky shouted into the car as you started to get closer to the bike.

“I’m gonna ram him.” You yelled back. “Keep covering me!”

“Umm, isn’t he supposed to lead us to Zemo? Shit!” Sam yelled, a bullet whizzing by his ear.

“I don’t think he’s leading us anywhere Sammy.”

“Well, we could still get information out of him!”

“Yeah, these guys have proven to be pretty impervious to interrogations, Wilson.” Buck said, gripping the roof of the car with his vibranium hand as you followed the bike around another curve.

“I really just need his phone!” You yelled as you closed the distance even further, now only 25 feet from the back tire of the bike. “You might want to get back inside.”

Sam yanked his upper body back into the vehicle with a curse and Buck slid back inside easily as you pressed the gas pedal to the floor. You hit the bike in a few seconds and sent it and the rider rolling over the car with a thud. As soon as it was clear you slammed on the brakes, sending the vehicle spinning out.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod....” Sam was screaming as the car whipped around over and over, his eyes screwed shut and his hand braced against the roof of the vehicle while his foot braced against the dashboard.

Bucky just clenched his jaw and ripped his vibranium fingers through the back door to hold himself in place, shaking his head at Wilson.

The vehicle finally came to a stop about 200 feet away from where the bike had crashed. Sam wrenched his door open and dove out of the car, bending over and vomiting at the side of the road.

“You ok there Sammy?” You asked, rising from the driver’s seat gracefully and looking at your friend with concern as Bucky almost climbed over the front seat with a wince and joined you.

“Oh, what are you wearing?” He groaned as he finally got a good look at you. “Are you trying to kill me?”

It was a skin tight, patent leather pink dress that was pushing your tits together and up in an absolutely delicious way. The skirt barely covered your ass and he was sure there was no way you could bend over in it without flashing whoever was nearby.

“I told you, baby, it’s Valentines Day.” You sad with a grin as you stepped closer to him.

He moved to wrap his arms around you but you stepped away at the last second, moving back towards where the bike crashed with a light laugh as he let out a frustrated huff.

“What is wrong with you two?!” Sam said as he started to follow after you. “Your girlfriend almost kills me and all you want to do is jump her as soon as it’s over.”

“I mean, did you see that dress?” Bucky said teasingly as he joined your friend, walking a little faster to catch up with you.

“Got the phone!!” You said triumphantly as you straightened back up from your inspection of the dead body. “And it’s still in ok shape! I’m gonna call this in real quick and then we can head back.”

“No! I’m not going anywhere if you’re driving!” Sam said, shaking his head vehemently. “Gimme the keys.”

“C’mon Sammy!” You said with an eye roll.

“You do not get to call me Sammy right now, you psycho!” He said, snatching the keys out of your outstretched hand as you laughed at him. “And neither of you gets to sit shotgun! You sit in the back and think about what you’ve done.”

“Jesus, fine dad.” You said as you slid into the back seat, Bucky chuckling as he slid in after you and slammed the door closed.

Sam pulled the car forward a few feet, turning the wheel sharply before throwing it in reverse and spinning it in the opposite direction as he backed up.

“Uh, Sammy?” You said as he repeated the process. “Maybe just crank the wheel all the way and pull a little further forward?”

“Yeah, it’s not called a 13 point turn, Wilson.”

“Both of you shut the fuck up!! I’m not taking driving advice from you!” He shouted over his shoulder as he did the exact same thing and you lost it, laughing hysterically.

“Oh my god, there’s like 15 feet of road that you’re not using!” You said breathlessly as you cracked up Bucky grinning as he watched you fold over in laughter.

“I cannot believe the shit I have to put up with.” He muttered as he finally straightened out the vehicle and drove back towards the city, doing his best to ignore your dying laughter.

Bucky was beaming at you as you settled down, leaning back against the seat as you wiped tears from your eyes. You smiled back at him and gave him a wink.

“Did I tell you how much I love that dress?” He said as he scooted closer to you, his eyes raking over your chest before sinking lower to gaze at your thighs.

“No.” You said teasingly, biting your lip at him and leaning towards him just a little bit.

“Cuz I fucking love that dress.” He growled at you as he wrapped his hands around your waist and drew you closer, nuzzling himself into your neck.

You gave a soft sigh as he ran his teeth over your throat, flinging one leg over his lap as he moved his vibranium hand from your waist to cup your ass. He moved his mouth up to the hinge of your jaw as he pressed you into him.

“Shit, Bucky.” You moaned as he pulled you onto his lap, his hands running over your thighs to tuck under your skirt as he sucked a bruise against your neck. “I swear to god, if you ruin this dress...”

“Oh, what the fuck guys?!” Sam said as he peeked at you through the rear view mirror. “I’m two feet away from you! It’s like you’re a couple of teenagers.”

“Sorry Sammy!” You whined before letting out a gasp as Bucky nuzzled himself between your tits at the same time he bucked his hips up into you, grinding his hardening cock against you.

“Oh, I do not get paid enough for this shit.” Sam groaned as he pulled the car into the parking lot of the hotel and jolted it to a halt. “I cannot believe I have to put up with you horny idiots.”

“Bye Sam!” You called after him as he slammed the door closed, waving a dismissive hand at you as he started to head back to his room. “Mmm, Bucky!”

He drew the straps of your dress down over your arms and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples as you arched your back into his face.

“Jesus Christ, I fucking missed you.” He groaned before moving his mouth up to yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth as he laid you down across the backseat.

“Yeah? What’d you miss baby?” You murmured against his lips, wrapping your legs around him and ripping his shirt over his head.

“Missed the way you smell.” He murmured against your neck as he nuzzled into your hair. “Missed these fucking perfect tits and how well they fit in my hands.” He whispered into your ear as he brought his hands up to palm your breasts, making you whine.

“Fuck, baby. You’re making me so wet.” You said breathlessly as a fresh rush of arousal leaked out of you, your fingers moving to work at undoing his fly.

“Good.” He growled against your collarbone as his he dipped one hand under your ass and pressed you into his hard on. “Cuz I missed that pussy the fucking most.”

“Shit.” You hissed as his vibranium hand ripped off your panties in one quick motion before his hands moved to shove your dress up around your waist. “Don’t you dare fucking rip this dress, Barnes!”

“I’m being careful.” He said with a chuckle before lining himself up. He teased his tip against your entrance before slowly sinking into you, grinning as he watched your eyes roll back in your skull as your lids fluttered, a moan escaping from your lips.

He drew himself out halfway, really taking his time as he felt himself drag against every inch of the warm channel between your legs, then slammed his hips forward with enough force that you had to brace your hand against the door to keep your head from cracking against it. You had to bite your lip to keep from screaming as you came immediately, your back arching up off the seat as your pussy spasmed and fluttered around his cock.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you miss me too?” Bucky said with a grin as he kept fucking into you, watching your chest heave as you started to come down from your first orgasm. He hooked one hand under your knee and drew it up to your waist, spreading you apart even further.

“Shit, yes!” You moaned as his dick thrust even deeper into you, hitting a new spot that had you seeing stars. “Missed this cock so fucking much.”

“Yeah? You miss feeling me in this tight little pussy?” He said as he felt you clench around him, your hips meeting his thrusts desperately.

“Fuck, Bucky! My pussy needs you so bad. Need your big cock inside me all the time.” You let out a gasp as he brought his vibranium hand between the two of you to strum at your clit. You wrapped your hand around his wrist to keep him in place as you tossed your head back. “Need to feel you stretch me and split me open, baby.”

“Jesus, keep talking.” He murmured as he collapsed on top of you, burying his face in your neck as he started moving his hips even faster. “Love hearing you use that filthy mouth of yours.”

“Yeah, babe? You wanna hear me talk about how much this pussy needs your big cock?” Your grinned when he let out a groan against your neck. “My pussy would get so fucking wet every time I thought about that dick. Nobody fucks me like you do. Oh god, right there!”

“Damn, honey. You’re squeezing me so good. You gonna cum again?”

You just nodded before a sob ripped through your chest, your knuckles turning white as your grip on his vibranium wrist tightening and a wave a pleasure crashed over you. Your legs squeezed his hips as you thumped your fist against the door, your torso rolling underneath Bucky as your cunt clamped down on him, making him twitch.

You felt his hips stuttering as you writhed underneath him, and with just a few thrusts he was filling you up, panting against your neck as he sank on top of you, pressing his full weight into you as he came down.

“Oh my god, happy fucking Valentine’s Day.” He moaned into your hair.

“Shit, I still need to give you your present, baby!!” You said with a grin as you ran your hands over his shoulders.

“I don’t need a present, sweetheart.” He said lazily before peppering soft kisses over your throat.

“Oh, I really think you’re gonna want to open this one.” You sighed, wriggling a little underneath him.

You grabbed his flesh hand and drew it between your legs slowly, dragging it over your sex until his fingers brushed against the jewel that was nestled between your ass cheeks. He sat up with a jolt when he realized what you were suggesting, making you laugh excitedly as he gave you a massive grin.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’ve been waiting for this.” He said as he flipped you over, smacking your ass as you giggled at him. He spread your cheeks apart and groaned when he got a look at the pink jewel of the plug you had inserted earlier in the day.

He gripped the plug and drew it out of you slowly, biting his lower lip as he watched you pussy clench at the sensation. His breath came out in a hiss once it was free, your pretty hole gaping and fluttering at the loss as you moaned underneath him, pressing your ass back into his palms.

“Fuck, I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before he was yanking your hips back and up, tossing your thighs over his shoulders. You let out a shriek when he ran his tongue over your cunt in a heavy stripe before dragging the flat of the thick muscle over your asshole.

“Fuck, oh my god!” You screamed, trying to find something to brace yourself against as he ran the tip of his tongue around your rim, teasing you and making both of your holes throb with need.

He kept teasing you with his tongue for what felt like hours, alternating between heavy drags that ran over your entire sex and tiny kitten licks that were turning you into a begging, whimpering mess, a steady stream of slick leaking out of your swollen pussy.

“Gotta make sure you’re good and ready for me, gorgeous.” He murmured, giving you a momentary reprieve before he shoved his tongue inside your puckered hole.

The sound you made was otherworldly, halfway between a moan and a cry. He almost came just from the pure wantonness of it, and he felt his cock twitching against your chest as he started to tongue-fuck you. You pressed your cheek to the leather of the seat as he took you apart, mewling like an idiot as he stretched you open, his thick muscle probing you as deep as he could.

“Bucky...” you mumbled before another orgasm shook you, your cunt fluttering around nothing as a wave of bliss traveled up your spine from deep in your core and making you whine as drool leaked from the corner of your mouth.

He pulled his face away from you suddenly and unwrapped his arms from around your thighs. Your muscles were jelly as he lowered your hips, your eyelids drooping as you moaned at the loss of him. Once he finally had you laid back down, he took a second to gaze at you.

He loved how fucked out you got. Your limbs were splayed out at random angles as your back rose and fell with deep breaths, the curves of your breasts just peeking out from where they were pressed against the seat. He brushed your hair away from your face to see you grinning up at him, your cheeks streaked with tears and mascara and your lipstick smeared all over your mouth and chin as you looked at him with lust blown pupils.

“We’re still not done.” He said softly before wrapping his hand around your throat and yanking you up until your back was flush against his chest, making you gasp. He brought his other hand between you to wrap around his cock and dragged it through the slick that had soaked your ruined pussy before teasing his tip against the rim of your tightest hole. “I think you’re ready for me.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer before shoving his hips forward and spearing into you. Your body tried to jolt forward at the intrusion but his palm on your throat kept you in place, holding you still as he bottomed out.

“Jesus Christ, you feel amazing.” He muttered into your hair, his fingers vibrating over your throat as you let out a whine.

He pressed down against your jugular as he started to move his hips, dragging in and out of you at a deliciously slow pace that had you keening. You were losing yourself in the new sensation of having him fill your tightest channel, his thick cock stretching you more than you’d ever been before. Your head dropped back on his shoulder as he started to move faster, the slick leaking from your pussy making it easier for him to slide in and out of you.

“Fuck, I love your body. You treat me so good baby.” He murmured against the shell of your ear. “Wanna fill all your your pretty holes and pump you full of my cum. Wish I could be inside you all the time, pretty girl.”

Your pussy was fluttering around nothing as his soft praises filled your ears, and when he dropped his hand to the apex of your thighs you almost came immediately with a cry.

“You didn’t think I forgot about this pretty pussy, did you baby?” He whispered as his metal fingers spread you apart, teasing over your entrance as his flesh hand increased the pressure on your airway and his hips picked up the pace. “You want me to fuck you with my fingers while my cock’s in your ass, honey?”

“Fuck, Bucky, I want you to spank it.” You moaned as he continued to tease you, your brain starting to shut down as the mixture of sensations overwhelmed you.

He let out a feral growl against the curve of your neck before wrapping his lips around your earlobe. “Shit, you gonna cum if I spank it?” He hissed in your ear as he kept his fingers running over your sex.

“Yeah, I’m gonna fucking cum! Need you to spank my pussy, Bucky, please.”

His teeth nipped at the hollow behind your ear at the same time he smacked your cunt and you let out a shriek as your body vibrated against him. Your thighs quivered with strain as your pussy spasmed uncontrollably, your asshole strangling Bucky’s cock as you shook in your bliss, his hand around your neck the only thing keeping you upright.

“Fuuuuck.” He hissed against your neck as his hips chased his own release. “I wanna fuck all your holes while I cum, sweetheart, get ready.”

You only had a second before he was shoving three fingers into your pussy at the same time he put two fingers in your mouth, choking you as he shoved them down your throat before you were able to relax. He groaned when you started sucking on him, swirling your tongue around his digits while his vibranium fingers curled inside of you against that sweet spot that made your eyes roll back in your skull.

He felt you clench around him everywhere and let out a groan into your hair, his cock twitching inside you as you both neared your ends.

He ground his palm against your clit and you were finished, sobbing around his fingers as you squirted your release all over his hands, his thighs, and the seat in what was the biggest orgasm of your life. Your body tried to lift itself off the seat as you came, your vision whiting out as your muscles stopped working and Bucky let you collapse forward as he finished.

Another few thrusts of his stuttering hips and he let out a wordless roar as he came inside you, filling you completely with his spend until it was leaking out around his cock. He collapsed on top of you as his body rolled on a wave of pleasure, his breath hitching in his chest.

The two of you laid there tangled with each other for what felt like hours. You were so utterly spent that the passage of time no longer held any meaning, and you completely forgot where you were.

“Holy fuck.” Bucky muttered after a while, still unable to move anything except his face, which he nuzzled into your hair.

“Yeah.” You muttered into the seat cushions, your brain finally resetting.

“I mean, holy fuck.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Yeah.” You said again, wiggling your toes look experimentally as your body started to come back down.

“I’ve never cum that hard before in my life.” He muttered as he drew his hands over your arms until they were pressing into your shoulders, moving your hair aside so he could pepper kisses all over your neck.

“Me either.” You whispered, turning your head over your shoulder so you could press your lips to his softly.

He pulled away once he was able, giving you a sloppy grin as he managed to sit up, pulling out of you gingerly and groaning at the sight of his cum leaking out of you. You twisted until you were able to sit up yourself, leaning back against the car door as you beamed back at him.

“Best fucking Valentine’s Day ever.” He muttered, drawing you onto his lap to kiss you deeply, and wondering if it would be too tacky to tell you he loved you after the first time you let him fuck your ass.

Tags!!!!!

@buckysnumberonegirl @slothspaghettiwrites @captain-asguard @starlightcrystalline @harrysthiccthighss @quxxnxfhxll @bonkywobble @chrisevanscardigan @chubbybuckydumpling @StanAllStarks @blackestpinkworld @fistmebuckyskywalker @wandering-spiritash @khadineberry @muzzyandbusy @slytheriin2002 @isysen @WanderingAlice00 @kaleeelizabeth58 @tlcwrites @angrybirdcr @unsaltedalmonds @amerikakapitanyy @lizette50 @daughterofthenight117 @obsessivereaderchick @drabblewithfrannybarnes @stargazingfangirl18 @jack-skellingtons-stuff @chrissquares @msmarvelwrites

[pathfinderunlocked]

Gathlain Troop - CR8 Fey Troop

A troop stat block for when the fairies are marching on your forest.

Artwork by Sir Joseph Noel Patton, public domain.

There aren’t a lot of ranged troops in Pathfinder, and even fewer flying troops (I don’t think there’s a single official flying one).  I really like troops as a creature type concept, even though I think the rules for them could be slightly better.

This troop’s spellcasting works similarly to that of the cultist troop, an official monster, but I think I made it work slightly more cleanly.  I would suggest altering the cultist troop to use the same rules as the gathlain troop, actually.

Pathfinder really has no way of denoting how tall a creature is in its stat block, so I put it in the special abilities section to be as clear as possible.  However, note that I believe this is how any flying swarm or flying troop’s space should work, and is not a unique ability of this creature.

Gathlain Troop CR 8

Dozens of wooden-winged fairies flutter around just above the ground, wielding shortbows and wooden spears.  Many of them are wearing divine symbols of the forest, ready to deliver its wrath against those who encroach on it.

XP 4,800 CN Small fey Init +6 Senses low-light vision 60 ft.; Perception +19

DEFENSE

AC 22, touch 17, flat-footed 16 (+4 armor, +6 Dex, +1 natural, +1 size) hp 83 (13d6+39); fast healing 5 Fort +8, Ref +14, Will +13 Defensive Abilities troop traits

OFFENSE

Speed 30 ft., Fly 40 ft. (poor) Melee troop (4d6+2) Ranged arrow rain +13 (1d4/x3) Space 20 ft.; Reach 5 ft.

Spell-Like Abilities (CL 3rd; concentration +7)     At will—quickened entangle (DC 16), quickened dancing lights, quickened bless, quickened sleep (DC 16), quickened faerie fire, quickened charm animal (DC 16), quickened daze (DC 15), quickened feather step     1/day—thorn javelin rain (see text), troop feather step (see text)

STATISTICS

Str 14, Dex 23, Con 14, Int 10, Wis 17, Cha 17 Base Atk +8; CMB +9; CMD 25 (can’t be tripped) Feats Spell Focus (conjuration), Spell Focus (enchantment), Spell Focus (conjuration), Combat Casting, Iron Will, Mobility, Toughness Skills Escape Artist +22, Fly +4, Knowledge (nature) +16, Perception +19, Sense Motive +19, Survival +16, Spellcraft +13 Languages Elven, Undercommon SQ spell-like abilities

SPECIAL ABILITIES

Flying Troop Space When on the ground, this troop takes up a 20-foot square.  When flying, it instead spreads out and takes up a 20-foot cube, as the troop members spread out vertically.  As usual, the area occupied by a troop is completely shape-able, though the troop must remain in contiguous squares.

Thorn Javelin Rain (Sp) As a standard action, as a spell-like ability, every member of a gathlain troop can cast Thorn Javelin, summoning thorny javelins into their hands (and summoning new ones into their hands after they throw these javelins). 

Thereafter, when the gathlain troop uses its troop attack, it can choose to perform a ranged troop attack, targeting all creatures a 20-foot cube up to 30 feet away from itself, instead of targeting creatures within the troop’s space.  Additionally, when it uses this ranged troop attack, creatures struck by the ranged troop attack must succeed on a DC 16 Fortitude save or be sickened for 1 round.  Once the gathlain troop has made three such ranged troop attacks or 3 minutes have passed, the gathlain troop runs out of thorny javelins and can only perform its normal troop attacks.

This is considered a 1st-level conjuration spell.

Troop Feather Step (Sp) Once per day, the gathlain troop can use its troop feather step spell-like ability on itself as a standard action.  This represents each member of the gathlain troop casting feather step on itself.

This is considered a 1st-level transmutation spell.

Fast Healing (Sp) The gathlain troop’s fast healing is a reflection of the fact that each round, some gathlain troop members cast cure spells on others.

Not all troop members use this ability simultaneously.  The troop can gain fast healing in this manner for only up to 10 rounds per day.  Activating this ability is a free action.  This ability has a verbal component and does not function in an area of magical silence.

Arrow Rain (Ex) A gathlain troop carries shortbows, and some members of the troop haphazardly launch ranged attacks each round.  As a free action once per turn, the gathlain troop can make a ranged attack against every enemy within 60 feet to which it has line of sight.  These attacks do not provoke attacks of opportunity.

Spell-Like Abilities (Sp) This gathlain troop’s spell-like abilities come from a mix of actual spell-like abilities and shaman spells the individual gathlain troop members are using.  When the troop uses a quickened spell-like ability, only one troop member creates the effect.  This effect resolves normally.  (These abilities are swift actions since the action of one member does not significantly change the troop’s overall actions).  The gathlain troop’s spell-like abilities do not provoke attacks of opportunity.  Damage does not disrupt the troop’s spell-like abilities unless the damage can affect the entire area occupied by the troop.

The gathlain troops’ spell-like abilities other than Entangle and Feather Step have verbal components and do not function in an area of magical silence.