#Or I would have actually succeeded in starving myself to death | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dontasktheradiodemon · 4 years ago

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Post-Extermination Cleanup (1/17/2021)

Hey look it’s a chat log that has nothing to do with that event I’ve been logging for the past few weeks

Alastor helps dig out @usedhearts Sir Pentious’s airship after it got crushed during the annual extermination, and totally overexerts himself in an effort to show off. Sir Pentious gives Alastor a tour and plans what ship repairs are needed. They talk about their deaths, play a violin duet, and somehow manage to act incredibly gay without either one noticing the other one has a crush. “How incredibly gay?” you ask, and I answer: at one point they just start smelling each other’s perfume/body wash and neither one thinks this is weird. Radio waves interfere with gaydar.

usedhearts

🎩 I WAS PLANNING TO REPAIR THE WAREHOUSE SO THE SHIP WOULD NOT NEED TO BE MOVED AS IT IS REPAIRED!

🎩 BUT HERE IS THE LOCATION TO CLEAR AWAY THE DEBRIS! [location info lmao]

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Wonderful! Is now a good time for me to come over?

usedhearts

🎩 IT IS! I AM AT THE HOTEL, AND I WOULD LIKE TO BE THERE TO SEE YOU DO IT, SO COULD YOU COME GET ME FIRST?

🎩 I HAVE NOW REALIZED THAT DOING IT THAT WAS MAKES ME GIVING YOU THE LOCATION OVER THIS OBSOLETE! L-O-L

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 Ha! Glad to have it anyway. I was actually just about to ask whether you were going to be there or if you were just going to trust me to clean off the debris unsupervised!

🎶 I’ll be right over! And I’ll bring brunch!

usedhearts

🎩 OH, YES, THANK YOU! I HAVEN'T EATEN YET TODAY!

🎩 I WILL AWAIT YOU WITH BAITED BREATH!

dontasktheradiodemon

🎶 And a hearty appetite, I hope!

🎶 And for my next magic trick, I’ll be silently appearing half a foot behind my audience! In three, two, one...

Alastor

Guess who is now, as promised, six inches behind Sir Pentious. And menacingly whispering “Ta-daaa~”

In order to get six inches behind Sir Pentious he had to position his feet to straddle Telly’s tail. It’s honestly not a very intimidating stance.

Sir Pentious

And there goes his hood in surprise! Even when he was expecting it, he was still done a startle.

"OH!" He laughed after, turning to see Alastor. "GOOD MORNING, ALASTOR!"

Alastor

Alastor comes *this close* to receiving a broken nose. Luckily, he was expecting the hood fwoop. "Good morning!"

For a split second he was desperately tempted to just lean forward, wrap his arms around Sir Pentious, and plop his chin down on his shoulder... but no, no doing that. Instead he stepped back and held up a box. "And here I am with brunch, as promised!"

Sir Pentious

Well, if Alastor wasn't, Telly would then! He turned around enough to be face to face and then hugged him, letting out a little snakey purr.

"It's good to see you, I missed you!" Was that weird to say? Friends missed on another right?

He pulled back and cleared his throat. "YES, WHAT'S ON THE MENU TODAY?"

Alastor

Oh! Okay. Hold on, he's going to melt into the hug. If he hugged back tightly enough it would crush the butterflies in his stomach right?

Apparently not, that *I missed you* made them multiply. "I missed you, too."

Stepping back felt like trying to rip his own arms off. Impressive enough that he succeeded, absolutely astounding that he did it without demonstrating any pain. "I hope you're not sick of eggs—I made a frittata! Just a lazy, simple thing, I'm afraid." This lazy, simple thing was stuffed with pesto chicken and two different kinds of cheese and even a tomato he'd shanked a man in an alley for in order to get it fresh. Never trust Alastor when he calls food simple.

It also, as it happened, had been *his* frittata, until suddenly he'd discovered an opportunity to pass it on to a snake who needed it more than him. He'd carefully trimmed off the part he'd already eaten in a way that disguised the fact that it wasn't a whole piece, devoured the scraps, and hurried over. He wasn't about to waste time making more food when he could just hand over the food he already had.

Sir Pentious

Oh his eyes are big! They are Big and Wibbly, as he stares at that frittata!

"It looks delicious! Oh, thank you, Alastor!" He took it, almost reverently, and sat on his coils to just....start eating right there. He's eating fast but somehow still savoring it! He's making some very happy snake noises, and when he finishes, he's coming back to give him another hug!

"It was delicious, thank you!" He pulled back, but ran his hand down Alastor's arm to hold his hand. "Did you get fresh tomato? It didn't taste dried!"

Alastor

"Any time!" Just look at him eat. Was the poor man starving? Maybe he should have made a new one, it would have been a little bigger. He was considering whether he could teleport in some toast when he got hugged again and forgot what he was thinking about.

"Er—yes! Straight from the living world, I think! Either that or there's a *very* good greenhouse hidden somewhere nearby, but it certainly tastes like mortal realm quality, doesn't it?"

Sir Pentious

"It did! It was so tasty, I haven't had a fresh tomato in--" He pauses and thinks, his face scrunching. "Well, I can't even remember when!" He laughs a bit.

"Did you want some tea-- or, rather, coffee? I know you don't like tea. I figured we might have a cup before we head to the warehouse?"

Alastor

"I've got something of a knack for tracking down the good ingredients! Most of them, anyway—I haven't scared up any tropical fruit for you yet, but I'm keeping my ear to the ground."

He waved off the offer, "Don't you worry, I'm taken care of!" He opened a portal and a handy travel mug dropped through—the coffee he'd been having with brunch. "But if you want to make yourself some tea before we go, I'm more than happy to wait!" He bowed with a dramatic flourish. "Today, I'm at your disposal, my good Sir."

Sir Pentious

Telly's eyes widened again at the sight of the mug. Oh, how convient! He laughed. "I sssee! Putting that french press to good use then?"

He went over to his hot plate, turning it on as he filled the kettle. "And here I was hoping that perhaps I could con you into trying some more tea." He giggled again.

Alastor

"I most certainly have! Let me tell you, it's kicked up the quality of my breakfast a notch or two!"

Alastor found a counter to lean against. "As I said, I'm at your disposal. If you want me to try some more tea..." he placed a hand over his heart gravely while a solemn military march played faintly, "then I'll endure this trial with quiet dignity and grace." His audience laughed at him. "Anyway, this coffee's got to last me the rest of the day!"

Sir Pentious

"Perhaps just one cup? I made this mix just recently and find it quite delicious, even without honey!" He hummed as he too leaned against the counter, waiting for the kettle to whistle. When it did, he poured the hot water into a prepared pot, and settled on his coils to wait. This pot, however, was clear glass, letting the petals and tea inside be seen, as well as how the water changed color.

"It's a blackberry jasmine tea, with a dash of sweet vanilla!"

Alastor

"Better make it a small cup, I don't want to waste your fancy tea if it turns out it isn't to my tastes." And he didn't think it would be, but he wasn't going to be so rude as to not even try it.

He watched the pot, fascinated by the gradual color change.

Sir Pentious

Telly seemed to know the perfect time to pour it-- probably from how often he made tea-- and poured a full cup for himself and only half of one for Alastor. He slid the cup and saucer over towards him-- the cups matched the pot, clear glass with gilded gold edges.

"I think you may like this, as it's more bold and bitter than some other teas I've made." He took a sip without adding anything and sighed happily.

Alastor

"Thank you!" He sipped it, then considered it in thoughtful silence. The invisible audience murmured among itself like judges debating an Olympic gymnast's score.

"Well—I don't think I'd pick it off the menu myself, but it's not bad," he finally said. "It tastes the way a flower garden smells! It suits you."

Sir Pentious

He smiled, taking another sip. "I try my best. I'll find a tea that you actually like yet!" Telly moved closer, sitting on his coils again.

"Alastor, may I ask you something? I'm curious."

Alastor

"If you don't, rest assured that the fault lies in the nature of tea itself and not in your diligent efforts."

He gave Sir Pentious his full attention. "By all means!"

Sir Pentious

If Alastor was expecting something profound, he'd be sorely disappointed. "Why do you like coffee?"

Alastor

A shrug. "I like the flavor!" If Telly was expecting something profound... "Plus, it helps me focus. Like adjusting a telescope's knobs to get the blurry edges of the moon to sharpen. But isn't that why most folks like their morning coffee?"

Sir Pentious

His tongue sticks out a moment and his head tilts. "Perhaps! Every time I drink something with caffeine in it, all it does is make my brain scream, which is why I avoid it!" He shrugs and 'stands', offering his arm to Alastor.

"Shall we head to the warehouse now, my good sir?" He smirked.

Alastor

"Just means you have to be sharp under your own efforts, doesn't it?"

He accepted the arm. "We shall! Shall we be traveling *my* way?" He held up his free hand, ready to open up a portal.

Sir Pentious

"Yes! Absolutely! I'm looking forward to going through one of these portals and not getting pummeled by a giant tentacle monster!" He laughed, thought the sound was a _little_ forced. Also his Scent for the day was also jasmine and blackberry. He was doing a matching thing.

Alastor

"There's going to be no pummeling on *my* watch." For a moment, his tone was unusually serious. "Today, the giant tentacle monster is going to be making up for sins against airships past."

He contemplated their route, then moved his arm from being linked with Sir Pentious's to wrapping around his waist. "Remember when you took me for a dive? You're going to want to get a grip on me that tight. And probably to keep your eyes closed. The view can be... nauseating."

Sir Pentious

Telly glanced down at his tail, the eyes that remained ever open. "That might be...difficult."

But his arm wrapped around Alastor's waist, and he pressed close to his side, his claws even going so far as the latch onto his coat. "Alright! I think I'm ready as I'll ever be!"

Alastor

"Can't blink them?" Tsk. "Well! Try not to look to hard!"

He resisted the urge to take a scenic route, mentally called for a portal, and tumbled them into it with a little push off the ground like kicking off from the side of a pool. For a moment, they twirled through a dimension of stale air and distant roiling shapes, dead eyes tracking their movement, cacophonous inhuman music playing from every direction—

And then they were out the exit portal. The experience lasted under two seconds. Take 1 point of psychic damage.

Sir Pentious

Just the small amount of time they were inside that....whatever it was, had Telly's mind reeling when they exited. He held tight to Alastor even after they were out, blinking owlishly and trying to keep his tea and frittata down. He took slow, deep breaths, and stilled the shaking in his limbs.

"W-well, you weren't kidding about that, were you?" He laughed, the sound weak, and he closed his eyes (on his face) a moment.

Alastor

"They're wonderful folks once you get to know them!" Not that that was much comfort right now.

Alastor was used to it, but he remembered the first times he'd glimpsed that dimension. He pulled Sir Pentious into a hug—physical grounding was probably good—and played the oldest popular song he could think of off the top of his head, "If I Ever Cease to Love." Hopefully Sir Pentious would recognize it from when he was alive—maybe—perhaps the song was too American?—but even if he didn't, it was still a sound far more familiarly human than the noise in the dimension they'd left behind.

Sir Pentious

He didn't recognize it, no, but it was comforting all the same. He stayed clinging to Alastor until the trembling subsided and the nausea faded. Telly took another few deep breaths as he slowly pulled away, though his hand moved to grip Alastor's shoulder.

He shook his head and then looked at the warehouse-- his expression soured instantly at it, half rubble with half his airship still trapped inside. His mind reeled at how much work it would take to fix it. He'd _just_ gotten it back in order, too...

"It's a pity that the angels didn't just....leave it be. I made sure all the Eggs weren't anywhere near it, that the area around it was empty and abandoned, but noooo, they still had to just...._destroy_ it." That was probably more venom in his voice than Alastor had ever heard-- a real, seething hatred.

Alastor

Alastor squeezed Sir Pentious's shoulder in turn. "What do the jailers care about breaking their prisoners' toys, especially when they're only coming into the prison to execute us?" He shook his head scornfully. "Do you know what all this senseless damage and destruction says? They're scared of what you can make. As they should be."

Sir Pentious

His tongue stuck out, and his face scrunched up as he surveyed it-- the Eggs hadn't noticed them yet, and they were still scrambling over the rubble, clearing it little by little. There were only about two dozen of them here, which probably said more about how many he'd need to replace than anything.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps it was simply collateral damage. I _tried_ not to advertise that this was were I was hiding my ship this year."

Alastor

"Well, if they're not scared, then they're stupid and ought to know better!" He laughed. "So! What's first? Get all the warehouse pieces off of all the ship pieces?"

Sir Pentious

"Yes, that seems best! Let me get the eggs off of the debris before you start." He moved a bit away from Alastor-- just so as not to make such a loud noise right by his ears-- and then put two fingers in his mouth to whistle. It was loud, sharp, and shrill, and the Eggs immediately stopped and turned, en mass, toward him-- before swarming towards him. They all babbled over on another and Telly sighed, hands on his hips.

"YES, YES, HUSH NOW! MOVE OUT OF THE WAY, ALASTOR IS GOING TO CLEAR THE REST!"

They Eggs all turned in unison to stare at Alastor, half confused and half looking just Not Happy. "Mister Bossman?" One stage whispered to Pentious. "Are you sure about letting HIM help?"

Telly sighed and rolled his eyes (all of them). "I DO NOT HAVE THE TIME TO EXPLAIN MULTIVERSE THEORY TO EGGS. HE'S NOT THE MEAN ALASTOR, HE'S HERE TO HELP, NOW _MOVE!_"

He shooed them off to a clear area a small distance away, and the Eggs obeyed, though many still stared at Alastor as they wandered off.

Alastor

"Just tell them the mean one is Alastor Number One and I'm Alastor Number Two! They should get that—that's how the eggs work, isn't it?" He laughed and turned toward the ship.

He was going to regret having such a small breakfast *and* opening several portals and quick succession—he was well below peak energy even before he got started. Still, he had enough in him for some magical manual labor—he'd be starving at the end, but he'd still be on his feet. "This is going to take a bit of concentration, so I'll be back with you when the show's over. Play a round of cards or something."

He cracked his knuckles and surreptitiously jammed one claw into the palm of his hand. His eyes went wide and blank and filled with static as he connected his mind directly to his usual inhuman partner, and he got to work.

The tentacles dangling out of the massive portal above the airship looked slightly uncanny and unreal as they worked, but they didn't look nearly so mind-meltingly horrifying when framed by normal reality rather than the monster's home dimension. Alastor stood stock still for long minutes as he conducted the creature; the only parts of him that twitched were his arms and hands, moving as though he was puppeting a marionette or playing a piano. First the big pieces were picked up and tossed outside (or, occasionally, dragged into the portal for who-knew-what purpose); then the small ones, delicately plucked up and settled on the warehouse floor by the large suckers or the thin tips of tentacles.

Alastor didn't speak and didn't break his concentration for a moment until he felt the airship was sufficiently clean. Then he cut the connection. As the tentacles withdrew into the closing portal, his shoulders sagged and he stumbled a step back. That took more out of him than he'd anticipated. He didn't know when he'd last been connected to the monster for that long.

He turned toward Sir Pentious, trying not to let his fatigue show. "How's that?"

Sir Pentious

Telly watched with rapt attention-- not too the monster that had once destroyed his ship and was now cleaning and clearing the debris from it. No, he was focused on Alastor, watching ever twitch and movement-- and thus, caught the sagging. Instantly, he was at his side, a hand on his back and the other holding his arm. Telly's tail slithered around behind Alastor, gently bumping the back of his knees to try and get him to sit.

"Are you alright?" He asked softly, face creased in concern, the hand on Alastor's back starting to rub in slow circles. "That looked like a lot..."

Alastor

"What? I'm f—" The tail bumps the back of his knees and his legs immediately give out. He flailed with a sound effect like a bookcase falling over as he went down—oh, now he's sitting. Okay. This was fine.

So much for trying to act cool and unaffected, though.

"... As I was saying! Perfectly fine!" He folded his hands primly in his lap.

Sir Pentious

Telly smiled, a bit rueful, and nodded. "Yes, perfectly fine." His hand was still rubbing Alastor's back, though.

He turned to look out over the space, now open and much cleaner, the half of the warehouse that still stood and the half of the airship inside, now exposed.

"It looks good. Now the Eggs can get started on rebuilding the warehouse-- they're much faster at building things than cleaning, that's what they were designed for, after all." He turned his head, hand cupping the side of his mouth as he shouted.

"NOW GET BACK TO WORK YOU SLACKERS!!" The Eggs, of course, burst into motion.

Alastor

The back rub was somehow half soothing and half incredibly grating, highlighting as it did how vulnerable he must seem at the moment. He endured it for only a few seconds before the buildup of unpleasant stimulation had him squirm away from the touch. "Anything I can do to help with the rebuilding efforts?" He said like some kind of a person in any condition to be rebuilding anything.

Sir Pentious

Telly pulled back his hand, setting his hand on his hips instead. He looked out over the Egg Bois and their work and then shook his head.

"No, they'll have it in hand soon enough. But I could give you a tour of the surviving half of the airship, if you like?" He turned to smile at Alastor.

Alastor

"I would absolutely love a tour!" He hopped to his feet and steadied himself as he momentarily almost blacked out—that wasn't visible, right? "Does the surviving half happen to include the kitchen? I realize you had brunch not too long ago, but it's about lunch time for me!"

Sir Pentious

He didn't touch, not again, but his hands flashed out to hover around Alastor as he hopped up-- just in case. At the question, he ran through the mental blueprint of the ship, his tongue stuck out in concentration.

"The bridge is fine, as is my organ, and the kitchen and my bedchambers are right below those, so I should think so! Though, the furnace was in the back...." He frowned. "I do have an old wood stove in there, though, I'll have some of the Eggs gather some things to burn."

He whistled again and called over four of the Eggs, sending them off with instructions before offering Alastor his arm again. "That's settled, let's get you that tour!"

Alastor

"Oh, the organ survived!" He beamed, what a relief. "Well, the ship will pull through all right then, won't it? Just like admitting someone to a hospital after a terrible accident—it doesn't matter how badly mangled she looks from the outside, she'll survive as long as she didn't damage her internal organs!" Studio audience laughter. Alastor thinks he's hysterical.

He looped his arm with Sir Pentious's and summoned up his cane. "Lead away!"

Sir Pentious

He started to slither toward the exposed, open part of the warehouse and ship. He didn't move fast, setting a leisurely pace. Before long they would get to the bottom floor-- just a lot of machinery. And that was when Telly realized...

"Shit. The ramps are gone."

Alastor

Alastor elbowed him lightly. "Have you forgotten who you're with?" He was sure had enough energy left to summon up a temporary ramp.

Sir Pentious

"We'd only need one up to the second floor-- The one from my bedchamber to the bridge should still be there." He's Trying to not look worried about Alastor. And he failed, he looks very worried.

Alastor

"Not a problem! Just let me know when you need me to summon it up! It'll only last a few seconds, so don't let me forget myself and strand you up on the second floor when I go home, hah!"

What's that look for? Alastor's fine! No weakness!

Sir Pentious

"Now would be good, the kitchen is up there too. The Eggs can find their own way up, they always do."

Alastor

*Kitchen.* Oh, that was an appealing place to start their tour. "Well, in that case!" He tapped his cane sharply on the floor. The light disappeared, leaving their surroundings illuminated in a strange blueish glow—and with the lights out, a glowing neon ramp appeared out of thin air. Shadows were good for all sorts of tricks. Alastor gestured grandly up the ramp. "Shall we?"

Sir Pentious

Hold on he's going to need to take a moment too look at the FUCKING NEON that he now was. Well, that was SOMETHING. After that moment, he just started up the ramp, Alastor still on his arm.

"This is so odd looking, but it's....beautiful..."

Alastor

"Isn't it just?" He was looking at Sir Pentious as he said it. His eyes and yellow stripes practically gave off their own light in this darkness, didn't they. "Simply gorgeous." It had been so long since he'd seen *any* Sir Pentious in light like this...

Hey, pal, whaddaya staring at? Eyes forward. "And it's great for parties, too!"

Sir Pentious

The body eyes stare right back at him. They know your sins, Alastor.

"Yes, I'd think so! I doubt you'd like the music but this lighting reminds me of those 'raves' that the kids have noawadays!" How did he know about raves? Who knew. He slithered all the way up the ramp and then blinked at what the neon did to his bedroom. That was....interesting.

Alastor

Everyone's a critic.

"Oh, I've been to one or two! Can't stand them!" He gave Telly an impish grin. "Did you know some of those places are so crowded that you can run the turntables for *five minutes* before security can make it through the crowd to kick you and your Cab Calloway records out?"

No need for the ramp anymore? Alastor dismissed it with a wave, and the strange lighting with it. The fatigue hit him like a basketball to the stomach. Oh, that left him less energy than he'd expected. Good thing he'd had the foresight to pull out his cane.

Sir Pentious

Telly blinked as the light changed back, and then laughed loudly. "Well, one would think they'd enjoy some Cab, at least you can properly dance to that!"

He surveyed his room, humming a bit. "First thing's first, I'll need to get the wall and ramp rebuilt. I don't want to leave this ship again until it's fixed." Now that he was back, he realized just how much he'd missed it. "Then the plumbing, the tanks, get the power back up...."

Alastor

"You want the walls in *before* you have plumbing?" He shrugged. "All right, if chamber pots are your thing..."

Sir Pentious

"A wall can be put up in an hour, plumbing will take the entire rest of the day. And I won't be able to sleep with a big hole right into my bedroom." His face scrunched and he shrugged. "The kitchen is through here, though." He pointed at the door across the room.

"Let's get some food and then I can get out my blueprints, really assess what all needs to be done and in what order..."

Alastor

"An excellent plan!" He's practically dragging Telly toward that door, don't mind him, deer in starvation mode coming through.

Sir Pentious

"Oh no, everything in the ice box has probably gone bad." He moved with Alastor, opening the door for him as they moved from hardwood to tile. "But hopefully the pantry is still intact and filled? There should be cans of food in there, along with other non perishables..."

Alastor

"I'm sure there will be something we can make a decent lunch out of!" He plopped down in one of the kitchen chairs to wait for Sir Pentious to survey his supplies.

Sir Pentious

He's more than willing to let Alastor rest as he opens the pantry to dig through it. "Well, we have the usual staples, beans and rice, some cans of various soups. Dried fruits-- oh! And some jerky." He pulled out the bag of dried meat with a grin.

Alastor

"Toss it here!" He held out a hand.

Sir Pentious

Toss! The bag goes sailing towards Alastor as Telly grabs a couple of the cans, a small bag of rice, and a similar sized one of beans. "Nothing fresh though, unfortunately." He lays the spoils on the table.

Alastor

He opened the bag and stuffed three pieces of jerky in his mouth at once as he surveyed their haul. "What do your spice stocks look like? They'd have survived the power going out." He just kind of assumed Telly had spices.

Sir Pentious

Oh he looks a little embarassed but slithers back to the pantry. "Hmmmmm....Salt. Pepper. Some basil....garlic powder...a bit of rosemary, onion powder...."

Alastor

The fact that the first item worth noting was *salt* was somewhat alarming. Even at that, when Sir Pentious trailed off, Alastor waited for a moment for the rest. Oh. Oh that was it.

"... Well! It's better than nothing!" He considered the options, ran through his mental recipe list, guesstimated how long it would take him to make the few options available, and reluctantly settled his gaze on the pre-made soup cans. Desperate times.

"All right, this will do for lunch," he muttered. "But for dinner—" he set the rice, beans, garlic and onion powders, and bag of jerky in a pile by themselves, "—I'm going to make some red beans and rice that would get me disowned by both sides of the family and half the state of Louisiana. So don't tell anyone about it. Unless it turns out amazing."

Sir Pentious

"I swear, I won't," Telly said with a giggle. "Maybe you can provide me with a list of spices and I can stock my pantry accordingly, for the next time."

Alastor

Was Sir Pentious planning to have Alastor over that often? (Don't get your hopes up too high, buddy.) "I'd be honored to suggest a shopping list! But, for now..." He plucked up a soup can disdainfully. "Is the stove ready to burn?"

Sir Pentious

"Oh! Let me see if the Eggs came back with the wood." He slithered from the room for a few minutes. His voice echoed as he ordered the Eggs bring up what they found and then, in they marched, carrying armloads of wood.

"Starting a fire shouldn't be too difficult, I'll just find the matches...." The Eggs set most of the wood by the stove, and shoved some into it, as Telly looked around for his matches.

Alastor

All right. Time to be vertical again. Heave-ho. Alastor rummaged around for a pot and a spoon to stir with while Sir Pentious got the stove going.

Sir Pentious

He discovered the the matches, and then some alcohol and an old rag. He tore it into strips, dousing them in the alcohol before tossing them in among the wood. Telly lit the match and tossed it in and there was a loud FWOOM as it ignited. He coughed a bit as he closed the stove's door, locking it in place.

He waited a few moments to see if the chimney was working-- and it was. No smoke filled the room, thankfully.

"Shouldn't take long for it to heat up."

Alastor

The soup was probably pre-cooked, so he only needed to put it on the stove long enough to heat it up, right?

While he waited, he asked, "So. Wall and ramp, plumbing, tanks, electricity... What all is it gonna cost to get this bird back up in the air? I don't just mean money-wise—time, labor, materials...

Sir Pentious

A deep, long sigh and he frowns. "A _lot_." He slithered toward the door. "Let me grab the blueprints, I'll be able to get a clearer picture with those."

After he left, there was an odd amount of silence, and then a KA-THUNK that sounded like a safe opening. And then he's back in, carrying a leather tube under his arm. "Here we are, let me get these out."

Alastor

Alastor quickly moved the pantry supplies off the table to make room for the blueprints, then stood near to watch their unveiling.

Sir Pentious

He undid the top of the tube, tapping it lightly to get the blueprints out. Some looked far far older than others, and Telly quickly plucked out the newest looking set, putting them on the table before gently coaxing the rest back inside. He set the tub next to his tail and spread out the papers.

Which clearly showed that much more than half the ship was gone-- more like 3/4ths, and Telly's throat constricted a bit. He cleared it with a cough and taped the front end of the drawing. "All of this is intact-- this is the most important bit, so that's good. There's a lot of one of a kind equipment on the bridge that is all fine..."

Alastor

Alastor leaned over to look, passing off his spoon to his shadow to keep stirring the soup. "So you're not going to need as many finicky, fancy parts, I take it?"

Sir Pentious

"Not as _many_ but there were quite a few things that were of my own design that I now have to rebuild from scratch." His eyes flicked this way and that on the paper, and he removed Hatty, tossing him over to the counter to sit. Telly began to rub his hands over the top and back of his head as he stared.

"This is going to take _eons_," He whispered.

Alastor

Alastor looked at Sir Pentious's dejection, and then at the blueprints. He took a seat across from him. "What can I do to speed up the process?" he asked. "Steal supplies? Conquer a better warehouse? Teach all my ghosts to weld sheet metal? Clone eggs?"

Sir Pentious

He was quiet for a long moment as he thought. "First, we can't kill any more of my Eggs, I'll need them all working round the clock to make any sort of headway. Rebuilding said cloning machine is first thing after the necessities. Getting a source of steel, brass, copper, perhaps some silver and gold. Hardwood and softwood, both of high quality. I'd rather not piss off any suppliers, so no stealing from them. The warehouse will be fixed soon enough, probably within a day or two. Some extra hands would be good, though, if your ghosts can carry large loads...."

He trailed off and rubbed a hand over his face. "That's not to mention how many personal hours I'm going to have to sink into it, rebuilding things like the boiler, the engines, and then redesigning things..."

Alastor

The man who was going to conquer Hell was too down and out to risk so much as stealing a bit of metal? He was in more dire straits than Alastor had thought. "Sure, not a problem, they can carry the loads—my ghosts *and* my many-limbed friend!"

He watched helplessly as Sir Pentious rubbed his face. "But surely I can help with more hauling heavy loads around? Don't get me wrong, if that's what you need, you've got it—but isn't there more I can be doing to help out?"

Sir Pentious

He's quiet for another moment before his head lifts and a thoughtful look crosses his face. "Well....considering you're an accomplished Deal Maker, maybe you'd be able to wrangle better deals from the suppliers than I normally would-- I'm half convinced they upcharge me just for the fun of it." His face scrunched.

"Though I understand if you'd rather not use your reputation for that sort of thing...."

Alastor

"You've got it!" His expression brightened at something he could help with. "We'll have to be clever about it, of course—a little subterfuge here, some cross-universe acquisitions there—because once people know I'm making orders on your behalf, things get *much* harder for *you,* my friend." He flung an arm around Sir Pentious's shoulder and winked conspiratorially. How did he do that, a second ago he was on the other side of the table. "But we're a couple of clever villains, aren't we? I'm sure we can get the supplies you need without tipping our hand."

Sir Pentious

His own expression brightened right back at Alastor's, and he smiled. He leaned into Alastor when he put his arm around him. "Sounds good. We are clever, we can make this work!" He felt a lot more optimistic, all of a sudden! Well, that's nice! "It'll still take a lot of time and hard work, but that will help a lot."

Telly grabbed the blueprint container again, grabbing a few pencils from the side pocket to start scribbling over the blueprint, already making alterations and modifications on the design. "Don't forget your soup, Alastor. Can't help me fix all this on an empty stomach." He winked.

Alastor

"As if I could forget lunch!" He'd totally forgotten lunch. He looked at his shadow, which held out the soup pot and shrugged at him. Alastor took it by the handle, found a soup spoon, and plopped back at the table to eat it straight from the pot. "What all needs changing?" he asked, leaning forward to read the blueprints upside-down. "Angel-proofing it? Say, I think the airship seems vulnerable to attacks from above, don't you? Especially collapsing warehouse attacks.”

Sir Pentious

"Yes, it does need upper reinforcement. That's definitely one thing I'm adding. It was far too fragile. Also more automated defenses that would trigger when registering angelic power...." He hummed and tapped his lip with the pencil.

"Maybe I can prototype that one weapon I was thinking about when we were on Okkylk..." He nodded a little. "Fairly sure angels can be hurt by their own weaponry...."

Alastor

"Careful—once someone manages to hurt an angel, all of Heaven's going to be targeting them to make sure they don't tell everyone else how to do it. Might be better to lay low and accept a few more smashed airships until you're sure you've got something that can take *all* of Heaven out."

All suggestions of caution aside, he was beaming with glee. "Do you really think you've got something that can take out angels, though? We've had black market angelic weapons down here for eons, if all it took was chucking their own spears back at them someone would have managed it by now! There's few beasts humans won't find some way to hunt, after all!" He pantomimed firing a rifle—a gunshot and a startled elephant trumpet rang out. "You must have something with a little more oomph to it?"

Sir Pentious

His hand perched under his chin, Telly's face looked downright dastardly with evil glee as he grinned. "I do, Alastor, I do indeed. You see, Valera told me that she has Angelic and other magical weaponry in her home, and that got me thinking: perhaps these weapons could simply have their energy siphoned and used to make.....perhaps a ray gun?" He started to cackle, first softly and then gaining in volume.

"It's so simple, one would think I would've come up with it before, no?" He settled but his grin still stayed. "Though, that does lead me to another request for you: I would like to learn more about magic, so as to better make this device, what would you say to teaching me?"

Alastor

Under other circumstances, Alastor would wonder how an angelic ray gun would have better odds of injuring an angel than an angelic bullet gun.

But under *these* circumstances, Sir Pentious was wearing an expression fitting on any silent movie dastardly villain and letting out a megalomaniacal laugh that should have won awards, and if he'd told Alastor that this ray gun could cut the moon in half and cause God to spontaneously shit His britches, Alastor would have agreed.

"*Well,* now!" He considered the request, rubbing his chin. "Some things that I know, I can't teach you—it simply isn't *for* you, it's something you only get the right to learn through your ancestors. Other things won't be much use to you, if step one is 'make a deal with so-and-so' and you're gunning to usurp so-and-so's whole chain of command. But the rest?" Another thoughtful pause. "Sure, I think I know a thing or two that might be useful to you."

Sir Pentious

"I would love to learn whatever you have to teach me, Alastor. I've been curious about magic for a while, but it seems so opposite my technology that I hadn't bothered-- plus, considering how terrible this universe's Alastor is to me, that put me off it too. Now, though, considering I have you, well, it seems the perfect opportunity to start." He chuckled, looking back down at the blueprints. He started sketching again, humming softly.

"Just think of all the new things I could make combining my technological skills with magic...."

Alastor

"Oh, I *do* think of it." He used to fantasize about the sort of doomsday weapons Sir Pentious could make if he had a little magic in his machines. "It's really gonna be something, isn't it?"

Sir Pentious

"Oh I hope so." There's a sort of dreamy cast to his voice, and his smile is wistful. "Things I could only dream of....maybe bring back a few scraped projects..."

Alastor

"*Oh?* What kind of scrapped projects?" He'd barely eaten yet. He scarfed down more soup as he listened. (Tastes like preservatives and salt.)

Sir Pentious

"Hm?" He looked up, having gotten distracted by the blueprints again. "Oh, just things that weren't aerodynamically sound for the airship-- maybe trying a crack at another dual sea/airship..." He shrugged.

Alastor

"Careful with the pipes." Studio laughter.

Sir Pentious

His face fell a little at the crack, and his eyes slid back down. His tail curled around the leg of his chair and he looked back at the blueprints, merely nodding at Alastor's joke. "Yes, certainly." His hand shook a little as he continued to make modifications, his grip a little too tight on his pencil.

Alastor

Alastor's smile wilted slightly. He tisked. "What a terrible comedian I make, don't I? Misjudge a little lighthearted ribbing and it comes across like a knife between one's ribs! My apologies, Telly!" He reached across the table to put a hand on his wrist. "I didn't intend for that to sting. No more death jokes."

Sir Pentious

At the hand on his wrist, he looked up, maybe a little too suddenly, and his breath made a sharp, but soft, intake. An apology from Alastor, any Alastor, was still a strange thing to hear. But his smile returned, smaller, but genuine and he nodded. "Thank you...I would appreciate that-- my death was, as one could assume, quite traumatic."

His eyes unfocused and his face went a bit slack. "My ship crashed, I told you that much but-- I survived the crash itself. Not for long, but long enough to....suffer.... I was pinned under pieces of my ship, my legs were crushed, everything inside...._hurt_, and I was....blinded. My eyes got--" He swallowed. "It was terrible. Dying slowly from bodily trauma, all alone, blind, under tons and tons of metal and glass...."

His breath hitched, and his hand covered his face. "I....I'm sorry, I just need a moment...I didn't mean to--" He took another deep, shuddering breath. No tears, but obviously that was only because he was trying very hard to keep them back.

Alastor

Alastor was completely silent as he listened (a rarity), focused entirely on Telly’s face. When he’d finished, Alastor gave his wrist a comforting squeeze. “Buried alive. I can’t think of many worse ways to go.”

He was silent for a moment; but then he said, “Mine was a lot faster than that. The gap between the wound that killed me and my arrival in Hell was non-existent. Lucky for me, eh? No lingering in pain?” He chuckled weakly. “I was... on a hunting trip. It was deer season. Dead of winter, too—shouldn’t have been out, really, but I was desperate to get a kill. I saw another man out there hunting—we’d actually crossed paths a couple hours earlier—but when he saw me, he must’ve only gotten a glimpse of me through the trees and thought I was a deer, because he fired immediately. I didn’t get a killing wound, but it was, you know, it was still a bullet wound. It was enough to knock me to the ground.

“When he came up to me, I was sure he’d realized his mistake and was coming to give me first aid. Instead, he looked down at me in naked terror, and then pointed his rifle right at my forehead. I guess he’d decided he’d rather get rid of the witness and go home than let a hunting accident ruin his Tuesday.” He played that gunshot sound effect again. This time, the sound seemed to hang in the air dolefully, slowly fading out into dead silence. “I died on my back with my arm trying to shield my face.”

Alastor squeezed Sir Pentious again. “I know yours, now you know mine. That’s fair, right?”

Sir Pentious

As Alastor spoke, Telly uncovered his face, listening intently, and his face started to scrunch. "How....how terrible." The words repeated in his mind, something about them sticking and then it struck him.

"'Get a kill', do you mean a deer? Or something else?" His head tilted, curiousity coloring his expression. "Though, if you don't wish to speak of it, I understand," He added hastily.

He let out a little hum. "Well, it really is no wonder that neither of us had a particularly gentle death, considering how we are now."

Alastor

Alastor gave Telly a wry smirk. “Well, you’ve painted me into a corner, haven’t you? If I *don’t* answer it, that’s just as good as admitting I was out there hunting for something worse than deer, isn’t it?” He scoffed. “I tell you, what’s the point of trying to get clever with ambiguous wording if someone’s just going to ask you to clarify? Some days it just doesn’t pay to tell half truths, you’ve either gotta commit to the truth or to a lie and not split the difference.”

He sighed heavily. “Well, since you asked, I suppose I might as well say this much, but no more than this: the only reason that man survived the day is because he shot me first, and he’ll probably never even know it. And that—that *is* funny. I can laugh about that! But I can’t laugh about much else from that day. I don’t blame you for not laughing about yours.”

Sir Pentious

Telly smiled in return, and nodded. "It is a little funny, yes." He took Alastor's hand and squeezed it. "Thank you for being honest with me, I truly do appreciate it, and I appreciate you."

He looked at Alastor's soup. "It's getting cold, you should eat." He returned to his modifications, humming a little more. "Why is it whenever we're together we end up spilling our guts to one another?" He laughed softly. "Not that I mind it, it's....refreshing, talking so openly about things like this. Trusting someone. It's nice."

Alastor

Telly just had to tack on that *I appreciate you,* didn’t he? Maybe if Alastor shoveled soup into his mouth he could drown the butterflies in his stomach.

“You know, I’ve got this theory—don’t quote me on this—but just a theory that, despite all our grousing and griping about each other, humans actually like humans. And we all go a little stir-crazy down here, not having any humans we can trust. Almost all the trustworthy ones went upstairs and the few that landed down here learned to hide it real quick. So the moment we find someone who doesn’t immediately make us regret a half second of vulnerability, we scramble to put all our eggs in that basket before the bottom of it has a chance to fall out. How does that theory sound?”

Sir Pentious

Telly listened and his face went on a kambucha girl style journey, before he ended it with nodding.

"Yes, that does make sense. Especially for ones who have been in Hell as long as us. Decades and decades, you jump at the chance when you find someone to trust." He smiled, rolling a pencil between his hands. A flip seemed to switch in his mind and he let out a small 'oh'.

"I should survey the pipe damage to get the water running. I can hook it up to the city line, as long as the filters are in place and fine. It would be nice to have water. Would need to cap off any broken pipes before then...."

Alastor

That, and no other version of Sir Pentious had ever given Alastor a reason to regret honesty—and Sir Pentious was the one person Alastor *wanted to know him.* But say that and it invites questions about Alastor’s *local* Sir Pentious. You don’t have to worry about half-truths if you just say nothing at all.

And they’d looped right back around to another opportunity to make a pipe joke. Alastor valiantly restrained himself. “There’s a high priority repair. Without water, it’s going to get pretty unpleasant around here pretty quick. I suppose when you’re in the air you’ve usually got big tank for your water? Do you recycle your water supply onboard or do you land to refill before you run dry?”

Sir Pentious

"Yes, a tank for when it's airborn. Don't need to land it to refill though, it has an extendable pipe that I can deploy to connect and refill anywhere. Most of the water has a double use of cooling the machinery after it goes down a drain from a bath or tap. Anything from the.....toliet, gets put into a seperate tank that can be drained in a similar way to the the water intake. That's certainly the first tank getting repaired." He made a face.

Alastor

Extendable pipe. “*Like a giant straw.*” This concept delights him. “The eggs don’t need to use the toilet, do they? At least not much is going in that tank!”

Sir Pentious

"No, thank G--" He stops from saying that and his face scrunches again. "Thank ME, they don't. They don't need to eat, drink, or breath, either. I'm the only one around here who--"

He stops short and makes an even more scrunched face. "WHY ARE WE TALKING ABOUT THIS, I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT MY BOWEL MOVEMENTS."

Alastor

“Talk about *spilling our guts* to each other!” A toilet flush and more studio laughter. “I know we’ve been doing a story-for-a-story thing, but I doubt you want to hear about mine, so you’ll forgive me if I don’t reciprocate this one.”

Sir Pentious

Telly can't help but laugh at that, his arms on the table and his face buried in them. "YES, PLEASE, I DO NOT WANT TO KNOW ABOUT THAT!" He lifted his head and giggled a few more times. He sighed softly.

"Alright, I need a moment to go siphon some of the Eggs to get started on capping the broken pipes." He stood and slithered out, leaving the door open after him. He loudly called for the Eggs and set them to work before returning.

"I wish I had the PA system working, having to go out and yell for them every time is exhausting."

Alastor

There, that was the sort of laugh Alastor wanted to get from him. One of *many* sorts of laughter he wanted to get from him.

Alastor pointedly cleared his throat. It carried a sound like the amplified rumblings of someone fiddling with a megaphone. “You say you need to get a PA system working?”

Sir Pentious

"Oh!" He laughed again. "Yes, that would be something of your area of expertise, wouldn't it?" He shrugged. "I would love your help, but first the power needs to be fixed, so that it could be properly tested. Though perhaps you could help me with speaker placements on the blueprints?"

Alastor

“*Telly.*” He arched his eyebrows. “You think I need the *power?* To get the *PA system* to work? My *friend.*”

Sir Pentious

Telly laughed, shaking his head. "No, I know you don't! But _I_ would need it for it to work once you leave!"

Alastor

A shrug. “Fair enough! But as long as I *am* on board, let me know if you need to yell anything else at your eggs.”

Sir Pentious

"Oh, that reminds me, you wanted to see the bridge, didn't you?" He stood and started to gather the blueprints on the table, and then his case of them. "I have a work table up there too, and that's where the PA system's main hub is, if you wanted to take a look."

Alastor

“Absolutely!” He devoured the rest of his horrible soup—he’d need that energy if he was going to play with the PA system—and then hopped up to follow Sir Pentious.

Sir Pentious

Telly made sure to grab Hattie before he left the room-- couldn't forget him! And then slithered back into the bedroom. Moving around the bed, he opened another door to a ramp up. "Right this way!"

Alastor

Alastor paused for a moment in the bedroom—goodness, how many doors did this room have? It was Grand Central Station in here—then followed him up the next ramp. He wished he had a chance to get a better look at Telly’s bedroom, but... well, that would *definitely* be weird to ask.

Sir Pentious

And Telly's already halfway up the ramp, slithering and shivering at the cold metal. "I must get the heating back up soon too, it's far too cold in here for ssssomeone coldblooded."

Alastor

Alastor stopped abruptly on the ramp—he *intensely* disliked the combination of cold and airships and snakes—but he forced himself to shake off the awful feeling that had wormed into his gut and continued to follow Sir Pentious up the ramp.

Finally, at the top, he got himself to speak again: "We're in a tin can in Hell with no roof over us. The rooms closer to the hull are probably going to feel like ovens, aren't they?" Like being in a locked car with the engine off.

Sir Pentious

"Yes, unfortunately for you. It'll feel nice to me though." He laughed. He reached the intricate double doors that led to the bridge and paused the appropriate amount of them for a dramatic reveal before flinging them open.

"AND HERE WE ARE! THE BRIDGE OF THE GREAT SIR PENTIOUS'S AIRSHIP!"

....Which was currently filled with broken glass. Looks like the windshield would need replacing wholesale.

Alastor

There was nothing sadder than a dead bridge on a crashed airship, was there? It didn’t do much to lift his sudden morose mood.

All the same, he played an enthusiastic round of applause for the big reveal. He summoned up a couple of his ghosts to sweep aside the nearest glass so Sir Pentious wouldn’t have to slither over it.

“You know, you’re the only one I know who would make the inside of a giant war machine look like the kind of place you’d want to set up a cafe table and have a coffee!” He admired the scale motifs on the wall as he walked further onto the bridge—until he caught sight of the organ. “Well—*hello there,* beautiful. I don’t think I’ve seen *you* around the neighborhood before. New in town?” He propped himself up on it with an elbow. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a dangerous place like this?”

Sir Pentious

"Well, I often say that if one cannot make something functional AND beautiful, what's the point?" He laughed, giving a nod to the ghosts. He didn't know if they would respond, but he still had manners.

"It helps that this warship doubles as my home. If its decor was bland it wouldn't be a very good place to live, in my opinion." He waited for the ghosts to clear the path to the organ, and slithered over to it.

"I see you've met my pride and joy." He lovingly stroked the dark wood and metal of the instrument.

Alastor

"I can't stand a conqueror without style. What's the point, indeed!"

One of the enthralled souls gave a dazed nod back. The other looked away. Rude.

"Why, you *should* be proud of her. Amongst all the instruments of destruction, here's an instrument that's wholly different—but no less capable of bringing down the house!" He pressed one of the keys. Nothing happened. "Oh, right." No power.

Sir Pentious

"Yes, she is glorious-- makes it wonderfully fun to score my own battles!" He laughed, stroking his fingers over the keys. He frowned when no sound came from Alastor's press.

"Ah yes, the bellows can't function without Eggs running it." He nodded solemnly. Then he grinned as he slithered to the side of the organ, pressing his hand to a wooden panel. "Fortunately, that's not the only instrument here."

The press of his hand unlocked the panel and he swung it open, revealing a set of three violins. "Do you play, Alastor?"

Alastor

“Score your own battles?!” Alastor slapped a hand over his dead heart. “Oh, you would have been a hit at the picture shows before they added sound! You mean to say you play *while* you’re in battle?” He could swoon. That’s the single most wildly attractive thing he’s ever heard.

He laughed, “The bellows are still powered manually? How marvelously medieval! I would have thought you’d put this thing on electric power!”

His smile stretched even wider when he saw the violins. This instrument had trap doors. Trap doors that hid even more instruments. Move over, Erik Le Fantôme. “*Do* I *play!* You may never hear me at the opera house, but there wasn’t a *fais do-do* in Louisiana where I wouldn’t have been a welcome addition! *You* play?”

Sir Pentious

He laughed, a long cackling one, pulling out a violin. "Do I PLAY? Why would I have these if I didn't!" Telly tucked the violin under his chin, plucking it a few times to make sure it was in tune before grabbing a bow. He took a breath and pressed the bow to the strings and began to play. The number was quiet recognizable, the first notes giving it away as the Phantom of the Opera.

(( the version he's playing https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vYwqBCskfsM

Alastor

"I don't know—decoration? To coax guests into playing for you?" He picked up a violin himself, hoping to show off—but before he got a chance, Sir Pentious took off; and Alastor sank down onto the organ's seat, eyes wide, spellbound as he watched and listened.

Only when he'd stopped did Alastor speak up. "You know, I've always wanted to hear you play Phantom. I just thought it was going to be on this!" He nodded at the organ.

Sir Pentious

"I often do! It's a good piece to just play on anything." He grinned, settling down into his coils. He set the violin on his lap and stroked it.

"When I was alive, I had a Stradivarius! One of my most prized possessions! Music was one of the few things that my family encouraged!" He chuckled. "Can't get that quality down here, but I hunted these down. They're very precious, which is why I keep them with the organ. Generally, if something survives a crash it's the bridge, and that's why I keep all these here."

Alastor

"If you can play it this well on violin, I can't wait to hear what else you play it on!" He studied the violin he'd picked up, as if he could judge its sound quality just by looking. "Is the entire organ near the bridge, pipes and all? Or were some of them spread out to the parts of the ship that got destroyed?"

Sir Pentious

"Some of it is here in the front of the ship, but some of them were damaged or destroyed, yes. Usually I have the pipes running throughout the ship, so that the sound of it can be heard anywhere-- it helps keep the Egg Bois' moral up, hearing me play!" Was he preening and puffing a bit, proud of himself? Why yes, yes he was.

Alastor

As he should be! "And heard from miles around, I'm sure! I suppose those are going to need repairs, too?"

Sir Pentious

"Oh, yes, they will. Unfortunately, that will have to be left until more vital things are replaced." He looked very sad about that, and gently pressed a silent key on the organ. And then he blinked, looking at Alastor as a slow, sly grin came across his face.

"Unless, I had someone I trusted to help handle the delicate sort of repairs an organ would require. Perhaps someone with a vested interest in musical instrumentation...."

Alastor

Alastor blinked at that. “Well, now! Do I have a vested interest? Sure! But do I have adequate skill? My instrument maintenance capabilities cap out at re-stringing the violin and emptying the spit out of a trumpet. *But*...” He rubbed his chin. “I’m not qualified to rebuild the pipes myself—but if someone else made the pipes and all I had to do was install them... I could also check with the souls I’ve got enthralled, see whether any of them ever worked on pipe organs?” He let out a long, thoughtful sigh. “What all do you think you’d have me be doing?”

Sir Pentious

"Oh the Egg Bois would be able to handle the actual building and repairs, I wouldn't have you doing physical labor, that would be preposterous!" He chuckled. "No, what I had in mind if giving you the blueprint for the organ's pipes and making sure the Egg Bois don't fuck it up, as they are wont to do. So, you'd be supervising! And then, you probably have if not perfect pitch, then damn near it, correct? Tuning it all is a hell of a job, and one I would gladly take your expertise for."

Alastor

“*Do* pipe organs need to be tuned?” He looked bewildered by the suggestion. “I... sort of assumed you just set up the big tubes and let them do their thing! But—sure, that makes sense, doesn’t it, even trumpets need tuning and they’re just big metal tubes too. I suppose a pipe organ has to have some tuning slides somewhere, doesn’t it?”

Sir Pentious

"Yes! Though it's mostly with the reeds and the sizes of the pipes. Usually I'd go through a few weeks of testing and hearing it out before I would feel it's ready to actually play, but someone else who knows music as well as I do would certainly speed up the whole process." He gave a little shrug. "Most pipe organs also never get moved or regularly have parts of them destroyed, so I am in a bit of a unique situation."

Alastor

“Fair! I suppose you’ve also got air pressure and such to worry about. Temperature?” A shrug. “Well, you’re right, I do have impeccable pitch—but you’ll have to show me the ropes before you set me loose in the pipes!”

Sir Pentious

"Once you tune the first pipe, I'm sure you'll catch on fast with the others, but I will be sure to show you how to it beforehand." He smiled brightly, and lifted the violin in his lap to tuck beneath his chin. "Would you like to duet, Alastor? I've never had the chance to play with another violinist."

Alastor

“*Never?*” He was aghast. “Ever? Then by all means!” He quickly started to tune the one he’d claimed. “What song?”

Sir Pentious

"Well, not since death, no." He shrugged, letting his bow drag down the strings, letting out a ringing note. "Perhaps more Phantom? I know almost every song from that."

Alastor

“Sure!” He enthusiastically raises the bow and violin. “Now, you’ve already covered the main theme wonderfully. Usually I’m partial to ‘Music of the Night,’ but... no, not that. For two violins, a *duet* would be more appropriate, wouldn’t it? What do you say to ‘All I Ask of You’—we take turns on playing the main melody and playing a harmony line?”

Sir Pentious

"Oh, yes, that sounds lovely!" He smiled wider and started playing. His eyes (on his face) almost shut to enjoy the tune, but he kept them open instead, to watch Alastor play.

Alastor

Since they’d launched straight into it, Alastor let Telly take the main melody first for Raoul’s parts, improvising a harmony line to compliment it. It was lucky he was as familiar with the song as he was, because less than half of his attention was on his own playing; most of it was on Sir Pentious, the look on his face, the grace with which he played. He barely remembered that they’d agreed to take turns in time for him to switch to the main melody for Christine’s part.

Sir Pentious

He swaps almost effortlessly to the backing melody, weaving harmonies around Alastor's playing. It's clear that he kept up with practicing through all the years since he'd died, so much so that he was able to be absorbed into watching Alastor play with an intense sort of focus, soaking in every detail. When Raoul's part came back around, he slid back into the main melody, and he smiled.

Alastor

He was *good.* Even after hearing him play Phantom, Alastor hadn’t expected him to pick up an improvised duet so easily. Part of that was no doubt thanks to the fact that Alastor himself had been attending improv jam sessions with total strangers for the better part of a century, he knew how to compliment and enhance another player—but this was not jazz, and if Sir Pentious had been terrible even Alastor wouldn’t have been able to cover that up.

But he most certainly was *not* terrible. And Alastor wished he’d picked a longer song.

Sir Pentious

Telly fell into the back and forth of the duet with such an ease that he even started adding flourishes-- unnecessary, yes, but he also wanted to show off for Alastor. And it was for Alastor, every extra movement of his fingers, ever added note and vibrato, they were all for him. Maybe he was putting a little too much passion behind it for being only friends, but caught up as he was, he didn't find it in himself to care about how appropriate or not it was.

Alastor

Alastor was showing off no less. This symphonic style wasn't his forté, he was more of a fiddler than a violinist, but by God did he plan on playing like he did this every night if his afterlife. He'd started the song still seated on the organ bench, but by the end was on his feet, swaying with the music... and if he'd gotten any closer to Sir Pentious, they'd be risking smacking their bows together as they played.

Sir Pentious

The end of the song came, and with a final flourish, he stopped playing. He set the violin on the organ's bench and took a few deep breaths, his face giddy and his body feeling light. Telly laughed a little and took Alastor by his upper arms, grips tight but happy. "That was fun!"

Alastor

The fact that Alastor hadn't put his violin down before his arms were grabbed was probably the only thing saving him from pulling Telly into an embrace and proceeding to ruin everything. He laughed as well, breathlessly, smiling so wide it hurt. "Goodness gracious, you're—you're *good* at that! I can't believe you haven't played a duet since the 1800s! What other talents are you hiding?"

Sir Pentious

In that moment, breathless and smiling and so close, Telly desperately felt the urge to kiss Alastor. The only thing that saved him was Alastor's voice, and he blinked and pulled back a bit, though his hands lingered on his arms.

"Well, you know about the perfume making, I think. And the tea mixing. And now the violin playing...." He ticked them off on his fingers, though he couldn't even play at seriousness. "I'm not sure if there's much else I could surprise you with!"

Alastor

"Hold—hold on, you make your own *perfume*? *Did* I know that? I noticed how often it changes, but I just thought you had a collection!" This was an entirely new discipline as far as he was concerned.

Sir Pentious

"Oh! I guess I can. I could've sworn I told you about that..." He thinks for long moment, head tilted. "Hm, actually I think I told Valera! Apologies, then."

He laughed and turned his wrist towards Alastor's nose, letting him get a whiff of what he was wearing today. "Gardenia and lilac! And yes, I make them myself. Always found that others made floral mixes too strong, decided I'd like something subtler. Florals are my forte, but I can mix most any kind of perfume."

Alastor

Don't mind him as he shuts his eyes and takes a much deeper whiff than necessary, like some kind of creep. "... *Lovely.*" Okay, that was enough lingering. He smiled crookedly. "So, if I wanted to talk to someone about getting some of that gasoline perfume we discussed..." Studio laughter, he's kidding.

Sir Pentious

He laughed as well, giving a shrug. His arm moved from where he'd rested it on Alastor's shoulder to slide around his waist instead. This was fine, right? He'd touched Alastor like this before, it wasn't weird right??

"I could, actually, but gasoline has such a strong smell you'd be better off just dabbing it on by itself!" Another laugh.

Alastor

That was very fine and Alastor was going to immediately tuck the violin and bow under one arm so that he could slide the other around Telly’s shoulders. “Oh, *well* then.” He shrugged. “What’s the point if it doesn’t come in an overpriced fancy little bottle? I’ll stick to the fragrance I’ve got.” (Which was, for the record, a combination of shampoo and body wash that probably had some kind of name like “ocean breeze.” It was a recent change. Probably very faint, since it had been... a bit since he’d showered. Oh god he should have done that before coming over.)

Sir Pentious

Too late, Alastor, you mentioned fragrance and now he's leaning in to Smell. Blelelelele.

"Oh! That's nice. But if you do want another, proper, fancy bottle level fragrance, do let me know. I would love to make some fragrances for you." He grinned, and gave another blelelele that tickled Alastor's cheek. And then he realized he'd just essentially _licked_ Alastor and he sat up straighter. Thank God he couldn't blush.

Alastor

Pay no mind to the way he leaned into the lick. He told himself not to read into it, it was just a snake thing. "I've never been much of a fragrance person, but... I'll keep it in mind. I've got to see you at work on this newest hidden talent of yours sometime, don't I?"

Sir Pentious

"Yes, I think you do! And my tea mixing, but I'm afraid neither are terribly exciting." He gave a shrug.

"Oh yes, the PA system is over there." He pointed across the field of glass still as of yet uncleared.

Alastor

“Right!” That was what they’d been here for. Not music. The music was just a bonus. A beautiful bonus Alastor was going to be thinking about for weeks. “Then shall we?”

He handed off the violin to his shadow so it could stow them both away where they belonged, and let his enthralled souls clear a path to the PA system. He kept one arm around Sir Pentious as they went.

#usedhearts #chat log

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masked-buffoon · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: Preying in the dark (Part 1)

Warnings: mentions of murder, murder attempt, mentions of parricide, heavy language

Disclaimers : I do not own any of the BSD characters, only my OC and a few other ones created for the purpose of this story.

Author notes: finally, here is the first part of the first chapter, the very first introduction to my story! If you can’t wait, feel free to read it on AO3 ;)

I was cold, I was hungry, I was tired, and I was purposelessly wandering in the streets of Yokohama, looking for some place to stay. Above me, the pale full moon shone darkly, making the night all the more sinister and the silence incredibly tended. There was a lingering feeling of danger in the air which made me shiver, but I could not pay too much attention to it. Whatever were to occur, there was no place I could run to, no refuge I could seek to hide, nowhere I could go to rest. I was alone, by myself, in thrall to the unknown and unsafe world without even a light to guide my steps. I was lost.

"You don't belong there, you scum. Get out of my house! Filthy garbage!"

The last words I had heard from the man whose blood ran into my vessels still echoed in my ears. They had been the very start of my demise, but also the beginning of my freedom. Although I was starving and exhausted by precariousness, I was free from that cage, from that place where I had spent my entire childhood. I had never known more than the four walls of my bedroom. My fifteen first years had been spent recluse, curled up under the blanket of a bed with a book on the pillow. Would it not have been for literature, I would have been completely oblivious to the world. I would have naively followed that older man, the other day, who had kindly offered to welcome me. I would have stupidly been caught stealing in a supermarket. I would have dumbly sold my body to a brothel in order to survive. Really, I was fortunate to have read this much. At the very least, I was aware of the ways of the world and knew that money ruled it, supreme, powerful, creating selfishness and making parents abandon their child out of greed. I sighed slightly and let myself slump down on the cold concrete ground. I had been walking around with an empty stomach for a week. Maybe was it time for me to give up and make my way to the slums. No one could make a living in the back alleys of Yokohama, unless one sold oneself or got involved in drugs.

Exactly seven days ago, I had been chased from my family. I had had a feeling, lately, that my time would come, that these people would throw me away at any time, and I had not been wrong. In broad daylight, at around ten in the morning, the doors of the mansion had closed forever behind my shaking back, and I had been abandoned like a dog its owners did not want anymore. Like any stray animal, I had first roamed around the house, hoping it was a bad joke, hoping perhaps they would not be as heartless as to ditch their older daughter with no further thoughts. I had prayed that there was still a trace of humanity left in those monsters playing my family, but unfortunately, it was in vain. They had sent the butler, who, because he was the only one to actually care about me, had scared me off with a firearm instead of shooting at me. Treated like a nuisance, I had had no choice but to run away and escape that madness. Why had it come to such extremities? I believed it was related to the fact I had hold a revolver toward the father, aiming at his chest, out of anger. In fact, this action had triggered these events, had unraveled the morbid plans the man had been plotting. What was one supposed to do upon hearing a man delightfully boasting about disinheriting his child and sending her in the streets to her death? It had gone on for ten whole minutes, during which he had explained his wife he simply could not kill me with his own hands because it would attract the police's attention and he did not want his reputation to be ruined. I had wondered if he had thought about ruining his reputation when he had called members of the Port Mafia to sign a contract, a month ago. I had kept listening to his disgusting words. His wife had never been the active one. She could never have stood against her husband, could never have done a thing for me and had only ever been good at wearing pretty kimonos and nodding at the man's gross statement. The younger me had believed she was simply scared and did not dare going against the fat man. The younger me had believed so strongly this mother loved me, and had been deceived. Had she loved me, she would have at least tried to see me in secret. There had been plenty of opportunities to sneak inside the room, to talk to me, to take me in her arms, to kiss me and comfort me, but I had never seen her. Never, ever. These gestures, she only gave to my younger, Ruriko-chan, whose smile had never failed to soothe my painful heart. I was not jealous, simply disappointed in the people who called themselves my family. As the man's loathsome laugh had echoed in the living room, I had calmly walked toward a drawer in the corridor and had grabbed a pocket revolver he had been hiding for years. Stating I had only known my room was, in fact, a false statement, for I had been allowed to come out a year ago, on my fourteenth birthday, when Ruriko-chan had pulled me out forcefully despite the parents' disapproval. How the matter had been solved, I was not sure about it. Maybe had she succeeded in convincing the mother. Since that day, I had explored the corridors of the mansion and had accidentally found the gun. With the weapon in my hand, I had made my way inside the living room, mind and eyes empty, and had mechanically pointed it toward the gruesome pig in front of me. Luckily for the panicking him, my aim had been poor and the bullet had barely missed his empty skull to land into the expensive vase behind him. I had been tempted to shoot another time, but the recoil provoked by my first try had propelled me on the floor and my arms had felt too tired to raise again.

"My vase!" He had yelled "You useless piece of sh*t!! Do you know how much that thing costs?!"

A sudden anger had overwhelmed me and I had leaned onto the nearest couch to stand up, before pointing the barrel toward my own head. I had wanted to know if I was more valuable than a furniture, which I thought was stupid as I recalled the scene. He had only huffed, waving his hand in a much disinterested manner, while his woman had jumped on me to take the weapon away from my hands.

"Yōko, you can't do that...!" She had seized the revolver "You can't do that, my daughter..."

"Don't call me that." I had slapped her hand away "Don't bother with your hypocrite words. I know what you were talking about a moment ago and, surely, I will not do you the pleasure of taking my own life. You disgust me, all of you."

Afterwards, I had locked myself in my room for three days. By the end of that short period of time, I had been abandoned, discarded in the streets. Which had brought me to the current situation.

Why did my parents loathe me so? It could seem out of the world to reject one's own offsprings. Even the most fierce animal would raise its kids. Then, why? The reason was the fact I was an ability user. Although many considered power to be a blessing, mine was a curse, which gnawed at my life, chewed on my health and weakened me by depriving me of sleep. My ability enabled me to read people's mind within a certain range. However, it was impossible for me to control it and thus restrain it, which was why I could constantly hear everyone's thoughts without being able to stop them. Because of that, the father, a businessman with many secrets, called me a freak, and the mother did nothing to arrange the situation, always darting her eyes away and avoiding troubles. How I had survived for fifteen years old with a constant headache and insomnia, which did not help my state, remained a mystery, mostly when the so-called parents, wealthy, so rich they threw money through the window by buying expensive antiques and trinkets, had refused to spend a yen in pain relievers or at least sleeping pills. It was a given that children were to respect their parents, who despite hardships, despite troubles of their own, had raised them. Mine had never even thought about feeding me, and had it not been for the butler, I would have starved, forgotten, aliterate and miserable in my room.

I had often thought, during the previous week, that if only I had successfully killed the man, I could have maybe improved my life. Once the selfish and greedy parasite would have been eliminated, perhaps the mother would have hugged me and cried how much she would have loved to do that sooner. Once the master of the house would have been dead, perhaps I would have been the happiest teenager in Yokohama, despite becoming a murderer. A murderer... It was nonsensical to me that people killing their fellows had to suffer greater punishment than those hurting others for years, just like what I had been through. Had I killed him, I would have been charged a criminal and would have ended up in prison for my entire life, for, underage, I could not receive death sentence. However, had his torture been discovered, he would have experimented a few years in jail before coming out freely as though nothing had never happened. That injustice, the unfair laws people had created, added to the torment my ability created and I found myself more restless than usual. Letting out a sigh, I stood up from the cold concrete I was sitting on and slowly dragged my feet toward the slums. I did not know what I was supposed to do at the moment, nor what I was able to accomplish in my state, but, surely, the shallows would provide a safer shelter than the cruel back alleys of the town.

Next >

#bsd #bsd oc #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs oc

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patchwork-panda · 4 years ago

Text

If A Moment Is All We Are (26/?)

AO3 link: HERE

Music is recommended for this chapter. When you hit the first **, please open up this link: HERE When you hit the second **, please open this link for the BSD 1st ED

It was dark.

So, so dark.

I opened my eyes as wide as I could and then squeezed them shut just to check that they were actually open. They were.

I swallowed uneasily and tried to stay calm.

Earlier, when he was carrying me to the car, Dazai had accidentally jostled me awake. When I looked at him, he simply said he was taking me back to the ADA, specifically to the infirmary so Dr. Yosano could heal me with her Ability.

“It’s going to be rough,” he’d murmured softly into my ear, “and she’ll probably keep you overnight, but it’s better than being in a hospital for several weeks.”

I heard a crack of a smile in his voice.

“You’ll be okay.”

I’d then floated in and out of consciousness as Dazai had gotten in the back seat with me, buckled in my seat belt and laid my head against his shoulder for support. As the low rumble of the engine starting slowly filled the car, I found myself drifting off yet again. I was so out of it that I didn’t really remember the trip... Except for one small detail.

At one point during the ride, I thought I felt Dazai brushing his long fingers through my hair. He was singing something under his breath, something low and pleasant that sounded like it had nothing to do with suicide... and his singing voice had sounded so beautiful that I could feel myself smiling as I listened...

That was the last thing I was aware of before I passed out entirely and woke up in this pitch-black room. Where the heck was I?!

Groaning a little, I tried to stretch out but found almost immediately that I couldn’t. My arms and legs were strapped down to a partially upright table—a cold, hard slab of a table I didn’t remember being strapped into. I then tried moving my hands and flexing what little muscle I had but instantly regretted it when my entire body was suddenly flooded with a sharp, electric surge of pain.

Right. My arms and ribs were still broken.

I rolled my head to the side with a sigh of defeat, my neck cracking loudly as I moved. It was pretty clear to me now that even if I were at full strength, there was no way that a weakling like me would be able to break free from these restraints. They were probably made for holding down the monstrous strength of an angry Kunikida or a starving Kenji... Which just left one question...

Who strapped me in here?

There was a soft creak.

I swiveled my head towards it and saw a sliver of light appearing in the corner, watching as it grew wider and wider until I realized it was the light from an open doorway. Then I heard a hollow “snap.” Lights—bright, white and blinding came on all around me, flooding into my eyeballs with such intensity that I winced and screwed my eyes shut against the onslaught.

** “Well, well, well,” a low, feminine voice purred, “If it isn’t our newest recruit? You’re hurt, aren’t you...? Kyou-chan?”

Heels clicked against tile, the sound echoing sharply throughout the room. I looked up to see Dr. Yosano in a lab coat and gloves, the golden butterfly clip gleaming brightly in her hair. I should’ve felt comforted at the sight of her but there was something about her smile—something sinister that made the blood turn cold in my veins...

“Y-Yosano-sensei.”

I tried to crack a smile but found my face feeling oddly stiff and frozen.

“Yeah, I guess I am... Dazai-san said you were going to heal me?”

Yosano’s smile widened.

“But of course, my dear.”

Her black-gloved fingers went for the buttons of her lab coat and that’s when I realized she hadn’t been wearing her tie. In fact, she wasn’t even wearing her shirt.

I suddenly wished I’d opted for a normal hospital...

“Welcome to my special operating room,” Dr. Yosano continued, slowly shrugging off her white lab coat. “I’m sure Tanizaki-kun has told you plenty of stories about what happens here, but let me be the first to reassure you...”

Her lab coat dropped to the floor and she kicked it under a tarp.

“It’s not as bad as he makes it sound.”

My eyes widened.

There were tarps everywhere, covering the other chairs, the floor—even the surgeon’s lamp over my head was covered in a thin sheet of plastic.

“Y-Y-Yosano-sensei...”

I could hear my own teeth chattering as I spoke.

“Wh-why’s everything covered in plastic? What are you—?”

I heard a heavy thunk.

Clad in only a lacy black bra and a matching set of panties, Dr. Yosano had dropped her thick black faux-leather bag on the ground and was now bent over it, fumbling with all sorts of things that jangled and clattered with a jarring metallic frequency. I couldn’t see past the edge of the table where she crouched but I could definitely hear her squeal of delight when she found what she was looking for.

“Kyou-chan.”

Something gleamed from underneath my table and I bit back a scream when I saw Yosano rise from the floor with an actual honest-to-God machete—the kind I once saw in a horror movie—in her gloved hands. The shine of the machete’s long, polished blade was reflected in the manic glint in her purple eyes and as I struggled against my bonds, I fully understood why the patients in this room needed to be strapped down.

“I believe I once told you how my Ability works, yes?” she whispered. “That I can heal you back to perfect health so long as you’re on the verge of death? Well, unfortunately, Kitten... you’re not quite there yet.”

“Unfortunately?!”

I started to shake.

“See, that’s where this beauty comes in,” the good doctor explained, running one finger along the edge of the blade. “You’re not quite injured enough, so I have to speed the process along. I mean...”

She shot me a pointed look.

“You do want to get better quick, don’t you?”

I didn’t have the courage to shake my head ‘no.’ For some reason, I found myself nodding instead.

“Good. In that case...”

Running her tongue over her glossy pink lips, Yosano approached.

“The doctor is in.”

Slowly, lovingly, she leaned in and tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. The golden butterfly shone in her short, dark hair.

“It’s not very often I get to patch up a girl,” Yosano crooned, her fingers deftly sliding from behind my ear down the line of my jaw. “Kyouka-chan is very good at avoiding severe injury you see, and it’s not like the office girls ever see combat...”

She cupped my chin and lifted my face up towards hers.

“But don’t worry, Kitten,” she whispered softly, “I promise I’ll take good care of you...”

She let go of me, raised the machete high into the air and let out an absolutely maniacal laugh.

“Hold still.”

She swung.

The last thing I heard before her machete buried itself in my flesh was the sound of my own terrified screams ringing in my ears.

***

“All done!” Yosano called brightly.

Fully clothed once again, she threw open the door to the main office, which hit the wall with a loud crack but not even that was enough to shake me from my stupor.

With no wheelchair available in the Agency infirmary, Dr. Yosano was forced to cart me into the room on a dolly, the kind that movers normally used to bring furniture into a house. While the wheels squeaked against the tiles below me, I sat mutely on the flat metal surface, staring straight ahead with blank, unseeing eyes in an upright fetal position. My knees were drawn up against my chest and my arms were wound so tightly around my body that I was cutting off the circulation the good doctor had just restored. But it’s not like having any amount of blood flow would’ve made a difference.

I was still feeling completely numb from the trauma of what had just happened. Had I spent the entire night in the infirmary? Two nights? I wasn’t sure. All I knew was that it was mid-morning, that there was bright sunlight streaming in through every open window but I was still feeling cold and numb in a way that had nothing to do with my body.

Someone approached and it took me a full ten seconds to remember where I had seen his concerned face before.

Tanizaki Junichiro frowned.

“Told you,” he mouthed without actually speaking, shooting a nervous, furtive look up at the terrifying woman who had literally just cut me apart and put me back together again.

“Come on,” he mumbled instead, struggling to pry my arms away from my body. “Let’s get you to your desk. You can pass out safely behind your laptop the way the rest of us do after ‘treatment’...”

As he gripped my wrists over the jacket sleeves and pulled me off the dolly, I looked up into his face, full recognition dawning at last. I tried to speak but found my mouth unable to cooperate with my brain.

“T...T...”

Tanizaki raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“T...Ta...Ta...!”

Tanizaki was now looking slightly disturbed.

“What is it, Kusunoki-san?”

Unable to hold back any longer, I burst into tears.

“Tanizaki-kunnnn!!!!” I wailed, latching onto the redhead’s waist.

“What the—?!” Tanizaki squawked, instantly blanching. “Kusunoki-san, get a hold of yourself!”

“I was so scared!” I bawled, hanging on tighter even as Tanizaki tried to peel me off of him. “You were right! You were right about everything! I swear, I’ll never let myself get hurt ever again! I’M SO SORRY—”

“Kusunoki-san...”

Hiccuping, tears and snot running down my face as I clutched at the ends of the red sweatshirt Tanizaki tied around his waist, I turned to my left to see Naomi, standing there with a chilling look in her dark blue eyes.

“May I ask you why you’re hanging on so tightly to my dear brother?” she asked, her voice no louder than a whisper. “Is there something I need to know?”

Shaking my head, I was forced to let go as Tanizaki finally succeeded in pushing me away. I hit the ground with a sharp smack as Junichiro ran to his sister’s side, apologizing profusely and begging her not to take it out on him later on tonight, at which point I finally remembered to clap my hands over my ears and do my best not to listen.

Fortunately for me, someone else’s indignant shout suddenly shook the room.

“Like I said before, we’re the Armed Detective Agency, not the Lost and Found! Go take that thing to the police station instead!”

As one, we all turned to the door to see Edogawa Ranpo, standing in the doorway looking extremely irritated, with his arms loaded to the brim with an actual stack of pastry boxes. Behind him was a rather short, thin young man with close-cropped brown hair in a black tie and gray slacks—a regular office worker from the look of him. He was clutching a pink embroidered handkerchief in one hand.

“Now let go!”

Scowling, Edogawa snatched the end of his brown poncho out of the young man’s other hand and stomped into the room, the boxes in his arms wobbling dangerously as he went. Suddenly spotting me, he stopped walking and paused to squint at me.

“Oh, Kusunoki.”

Edogawa looked me up and down and frowned.

“I heard you got sent to the Infirmary. You all better now?”

When I gave him a very shaky nod, Edogawa nodded approvingly, then jabbed an index finger back at the guy in the doorway and demanded:

“Then do something about this guy, will you?”

“Do something?” I repeated, glancing towards the door.

The office worker waved.

“What... do you want me to do?” I asked blankly.

Edogawa slapped a palm over his face.

“Ugh. Do I have to do everything around here?” he griped. “Here—!”

He shoved the boxes in my arms and I let out a tiny squeak as I struggled to keep them all from falling over.

“Take these to my desk—and if you drop a single one, you’re going out to buy me two of whatever hits the floor. You!”

He jabbed his finger at the guy in the doorway once again. When the office worker perked up, Edogawa pointed in the direction of the client booth.

“In there.”

No sooner had I finished putting the boxes of pastries on Edogawa’s desk (taking extra care not to drop or smush a single thing) than the Great Detective grabbed me by the back of my shirt and dragged me to the client booth. The young man was already sitting and appeared to be fiddling slightly with the handkerchief in his hands.

I sat down opposite him.

“I’m Kusunoki,” I said, bowing slightly. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Miura,” the office guy said, also bowing awkwardly. “Thank you for your time.”

I glanced up at Edogawa, who had not taken a seat on the detectives’ side with me. His arms were crossed and he was tapping his foot impatiently.

“Tell her what you just told me,” he ordered.

“Uh, yes!” Miura stammered. “You see, I found this earlier today, at the subway entrance around the corner from here.”

He held up the pink handkerchief. There was a capitalized “R” embroidered in one corner and it looked slightly damp, as if the young man had taken the time to wash it in the sink before bringing it in.

“I don’t know who dropped it but, if it’s not too much trouble, could you help me return it to the rightful owner?” Miura asked.

“Uh, Miura-san,” I started, shooting a quick look over my shoulder at Edogawa, who was standing behind me and seemed only to be growing more irritated with every passing second.

Clearly he didn’t want to be kept from his pastries while they were still hot and fresh...

“I hate to repeat what my senpai said earlier, but...” I pressed my lips together. “We’re not the Lost and Found. Lost items are better off being returned to the police station—”

“But you’re a detective agency aren’t you?” Miura pressed. “I heard you’re the best in Yokohama! My friends tell me you solve cases the police can’t handle. They told me...”

He dropped his voice and looked around even though the door to the client booth was closed and the three of us were clearly alone in here.

“They told me a newcomer solved that recent serial kidnapping in their first week here—”

I flushed.

“Oh, uh, that—”

“—and that if all else fails, you have the power of a legendary genius at your disposal—”

“That is absolutely, one-hundred percent correct!” Edogawa crowed, suddenly beaming like he was being interviewed on TV.

I turned all the way around in my chair to gawk at Edogawa just as he slammed both hands on my shoulders and shook me in a friendly, if somewhat overly excitable way.

“In fact...”

He grinned and I suddenly felt the need to run.

“Kusunoki-kun here is the one who caught the serial kidnapper! And she’d be more than happy to help you return the handkerchief.”

My jaw dropped as Miura looked on in amazement.

“Ranpo-san, what—?!”

“On two conditions. One...”

Edogawa held up a finger.

“You buy the whole office a party-sized box of pastries from that new macaron shop downtown.”

I balked but Miura only nodded readily.

“Two...”

Edogawa held up a second finger.

“You have to go with her when it’s time to return the handkerchief. In fact, I want you to be the one to personally hand it over to the owner.”

Edogawa shot me a meaningful look.

“You got that?”

I breathed in sharply as I suddenly understood his meaning.

Edogawa wanted me to see into this man’s future and find the person he hands it back to. But how was I supposed to do that when I didn’t know when this event was going to take place?

As if reading my thoughts, Edogawa motioned me closer.

“You said that before,” he whispered in my ear, “when you looked into my future, you saw a massive book, right? And that there was writing in it, right?”

I nodded.

“Look for the word ‘handkerchief,’” Edogawa instructed me.

And with that last bit of advice, he patted my shoulder and walked out of the client booth.

‘Look for the word ‘handkerchief?’’

I frowned. I must’ve still been a little dazed from Yosano’s “treatment,” because this made no sense. Look for a word... Look for a word...? Why would Edogawa instruct me to do something like this? Unless...?

I let out a soft gasp as it came to me.

Edogawa really was brilliant...

Taking my cell phone out of my pocket, I set a timer to “vibrate,” and tucked it back inside my coat pocket. I turned to Miura and stuck out my other hand.

“Can I see the handkerchief?”

Miura nodded and as he passed the handkerchief to me over the table, I carefully switched on the timer and reached out for Miura’s hand.

If this worked, I’d have a new way to use my Ability...

My fingers brushed against Miura’s just as the timer went off and I closed my eyes and let the vibrations wash over me.

I felt a pull—just the slightest of tugs on the tips of my fingers, as if a small child were yanking on them and leading me forward. Taking a deep breath in, I concentrated on the sensation and let it lead me away...

...And I floated down, weightless, and sank into that dark tunnel once more.

When I opened my eyes again, my body had disappeared. All that was left of me was a pair of eyes and the memory of a form I’d long since left behind. Taking a moment to look around, I examined my surroundings. Words, silvery and undefined, twinkled all around me like stars, floating in the air in long, sparkling columns, like strings of crystal beads hanging from a massive chandelier. I quickly spotted the four walls of the tunnel and the four corners where the walls met and nodded to myself (or at least that’s what it felt like) as I realized I was once again in a giant, translucent book.

This was the “Story of Miura’s Life.”

I stared ahead of me, down the “tunnel” that was actually not a tunnel, but reams and reams of transparent pages and considered the task ahead.

Edogawa had said to look for the word “handkerchief.” Basically, he wanted me to find the very next instance of the word “handkerchief” and touch it to “activate” the vision—in the same way I’d done with the date and time when I’d looked into Edogawa’s future.

But what if the word showed up multiple times in Miura’s future? How was I supposed to know which one to touch?

Feeling nervous, I looked around and randomly selected a word to focus on. As before, the longer I stared at it, the more it began to take shape and within moments, the silvery amorphous blobs to my left condensed and became a legible set of characters.

“Armed Detective Agency.”

Okay, not what I needed.

I glanced back down at the hall of loosely glittering words and grimaced.

I may have found my way back to that strange metaphysical space where a person’s future was written down as if it were a literal story, but today the situation was different. If the words didn’t properly materialize until I spent enough time looking at them, how was I supposed to pick out a single word like, “handkerchief,” much less get to it in time before Miura got weirded out by my so-called “narcolepsy” and pulled away?

If only Edogawa was in here with me to give me some kind of hint...!

Fighting the growing sense of panic, I closed my “eyes” once again and tried to focus.

Concentrate. Think about the words you’re looking for. What exactly are the words you need to see?

Without thinking about what I was doing, I wrote the words “return the pink handkerchief” in the air.

At once, there was a sound like a chime. I opened my eyes to see the words I’d written hanging in the air, glowing before my eyes like molten gold. But before I could reach out and touch them, they shot off into the distance, streaking through the book like a shooting star in the sky.

I ran after it, phasing right through the translucent pages like a ghost, silvery words parting around me like curtains and fluttering in my wake. My Ability was guiding me—taking me to the exact moment I needed to see. I stopped running as the glimmer of gold stopped moving at last, shining like a beacon in the air, just up ahead of me. Knowing instinctively what I had to do, I reached forward and touched it, shielding my eyes as the entire page in front of me suddenly materialized like a solid wall.

I’m standing in front of a train station.

I’m halfway across town, nowhere near the place I picked it up, but the detective girl is insisting this is the place...

The clock nearby chimes three times... It’s two in the afternoon, a full week after I first picked up the handkerchief...

I sigh and glance down at the handkerchief in my hand, this tiny pink square I happened to pick up. I stare at the softly embroidered “R.” Something about this feels familiar but I’m not sure what...

I look up. A girl is walking towards me. She’s not really looking up at me or any of the other people around us but at the ground. She has softly curled, light brown hair and big eyes and—woah!! She’s really cute!

I can feel my heart beating faster as she approaches. Her skirt and purse are the same color as the handkerchief in my hands.

Panicking, I wave to the dark-haired girl behind me, the detective—oh man, she’s not even standing anywhere close is she? I can’t see the look on her face but she’s mumbling something, pushing me towards the girl with the pink skirt.

I can’t do this—I can’t!!

My mouth’s already open—too late!

“Excuse me, Miss,” I hear myself say.

Uwaaah... she’s looking at me... What do I do?! She’s so freaking cute...

I hold out the handkerchief

“Are you looking for this?”

She stops, she stares at me and her hands fly to her lips. She’s nodding...!

Suddenly, the girl disappeared. Darkness fell over my eyes, something pressed against my face and I let out a strangled gasp when I realized I was now back in the physical world. The handkerchief slipped right out of my hands.

“Guess who?” a warm, familiar tenor whispered right into my ear.

“What the—Dazai?!” I shrieked.

Irritated, I reached up and tried to remove his large half-bandaged hands, but before I could grab hold, Dazai jerked my head to the side and laughed.

“Let go of me!”

“Not until you turn around to check~!” Dazai sang.

“Dazai, I know it’s you,” I snapped, getting to my feet, “so take your hands—”

Wrenching his hands away at last, I spun to face him. But as the cool air hit my face at last, I realized my cheeks were wet.

I froze.

I hadn’t been crying, so that could only mean one thing...

Gingerly, I reached up and brought the tips of my fingers to the area below my eyes. They came away wet with flecks of bright, red, fresh blood.

“...shit.”

Had Miura seen...?

At once, Dazai gasped dramatically.

“Oh my gosh, Kusunoki-kun!” he cried, frantically digging a handkerchief out of his own pocket. “I’m so sorry! Your makeup is all smudged.”

He smushed his handkerchief against my face and stared smearing at the area over my eyes.

“But don’t worry, I’ll fix it!”

“Ah—wait—Dazai-san, stop!!” I sputtered, making a face as part of the hankie went into my open mouth. I spat it out and tried to fight him off as he kept wiping at my eyes.

“I said stop! I can do it myself!”

“But I wanna help,” Dazai whined as I finally snatched the hankie from him and held it up against my eyes.

“I think you’ve helped enough,” I mumbled.

Clearing my throat, I tried to turn around so I could speak to Miura again. Unfortunately, because I couldn’t take the hankie away from my eyes, I ended up doing an awkward shuffle and bumping back into my own chair instead. I hissed as a bruise appeared on my shin and immediately scowled as I heard Dazai stifle a tiny snicker behind me. Thankfully, before I could hurt myself further, I felt Dazai’s hands at my back as he helped guide me in the right direction.

“Uh, Miura-san?”

I did a sort of half-bow in apology, hoping I didn’t look too stupid doing it (what if I was bowing at the wall the way Katai had done with me?!). At least Dazai hadn’t laughed this time, so maybe I was safe...

“Yes...?” Miura’s voice sounded tiny and unsure, and thankfully, was coming from right in front of me.

“I can figure out who that pink handkerchief belongs to, but you’re going to have to give me some time,” I babbled. “Do you think you could meet me back here in a week? Around one in the afternoon?”

“One in the afternoon?” Miura asked, sounding ecstatic.

There was a loud clattering noise as he hurriedly got to his feet, nearly knocking over the table from the sound of it.

“Yes, Detective! I’ll set my calendar—oh crap, it’s this late already?!”

I heard the glass door slide open, followed immediately by the sound of running feet.

“I gotta go back to work,” he called, his voice growing quieter as he ran further out into the hall, “But I’ll be back! See you in a week Miss Detective!”

There was a bang—the front door of the Agency office slammed shut and I took Dazai’s handkerchief away from my eyes at last.

“Oh my God, that was too close!” I gasped, turning to the tall, bandaged detective beside me. “Do you think he saw the blood?”

“Judging from his reaction, probably not,” Dazai said, shrugging.

“Thank goodness...” I moaned, sagging on my feet in relief.

I probably should’ve expected something like this to happen, given what happened the last time I used my power with Edogawa. But in all honesty, I’d expected the side effects to be a little better this time...

I should probably have more control by now. After all, Edogawa hadn’t seemed worried...

Shoulders slumping a little, I glanced down at Dazai’s handkerchief and winced. Two bright red spots, roughly the size of a pair of ten-yen coins, had bloomed like rose petals in the middle of the white and gray striped cloth. They were still wet to the touch. I crumpled the handkerchief in my hand and sighed.

“Thanks for helping me out back there, Dazai-san...” I mumbled sheepishly. “I’m... sorry about your handkerchief. I’ll go wash it for you.”

But as I took a step towards the open door, Dazai shook his head.

“You don’t have to do that right now, Kusunoki-kun,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Yes, it is!” I insisted, to Dazai’s apparent surprise. “President Fukuzawa asked you to keep my Ability a secret, didn’t you? You really helped me out back there. I mean...”

I chewed the inside of my cheek. Heat crawled up my neck as I remembered that the last time I’d interacted with him, he’d been carrying me (princess style) around because I was injured. I suddenly couldn’t look him in the face.

“It’s not only that... you saved me from getting blown up after I fought Akutagawa. You... you saved my life. Dazai-san, I...”

I twisted the handkerchief in my hands. My face felt hot.

“I... owe you one,” I finished lamely, staring at his feet.

For a moment, silence reigned. Dazai watched me quietly as I fidgeted with my hands in front of him. Then he raised an eyebrow.

“You owe me one, huh...?” he asked, rubbing his chin. “Well...”

I looked up just in time to see a familiar smirk crossing his face and before I could stop him or even react, he walked over to the door and started pulling it closed.

“I can think of a few ways for you to pay me back,” he whispered, his dark eyes gleaming with possibility. “In fact, why don’t you keep that handkerchief. You might need it later...”

My breath hitched in my throat.

“What do you mean by that, Dazai-san?”

“Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean...”

I took a step back, only to hit my chair again and I cursed as I accidentally sat back down in it.

“What’s the matter, Kusunoki?”

Two half-bandaged hands shot out and grasped the armrests. I glanced up only to find myself staring directly into Dazai’s chocolate brown eyes. His lips parted seductively.

“You seem a little nervous.”

“I-I’m not nervous,” I stammered, heat flooding into my face. I struggled not to squirm in my seat as Dazai’s grin widened.

“I just want to know why you closed the door...!”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Dazai asked.

His dark, tousled bangs fell into his eyes as he cocked his head to the side.

“I wanted to make sure we weren’t interrupted.”

“Inter...?”

My cheeks were on fire. My voice was no louder than a squeak. I shrank back into the chair as Dazai slowly leaned in close.

“After all,” he murmured, his voice low and husky in my ear. “This is a very personal matter...”

“Dazai-san...!”

This was it. My heart was beating way too fast and my face felt so hot, my brain was probably boiling over. I was going to pass out on the spot...!

I closed my eyes and braced myself. But to my surprise, nothing happened. Instead, I heard the flapping of paper and when I opened my eyes, a sealed envelope had appeared before my eyes. I blinked at it.

Dazai grinned.

“For you,” he said sweetly.

I stared, looking from Dazai to the envelope and back.

“Eh?” was all I could manage as Dazai placed the envelope in my hand and went to take a seat on the coffee table in front of me.

“What?”

He propped his chin up in his half-bandaged hands and looked at me.

“Disappointed?”

I scowled and returned my attention to the envelope, my cheeks burning in humiliation and rage.

“You wish,” I snapped, refusing to look at him as I tore it open. “And you know what? I take back what I said earlier, I...”

I trailed off as I looked inside the envelope. There was only one thing inside and I grew quiet as I lifted it out.

It was a Polaroid—a very old one—and the rectangular image nestled within the yellowed, off-white frame was grainy and faded with age. I could see three people in the picture, all laughing and smiling as they toasted one another with tiny cups of sake. They looked like they were having the time of their lives. Squinting at them, I brought the picture closer to my face, peering more carefully at the two figures on the left and I let out a soft gasp as I finally recognized them as a much younger Mr. and Mrs. Yamazaki. They were wearing their wedding clothes—the same clothes they were wearing in the big photo in Mrs. Yamazaki’s apartment—and as I followed their gaze to the left of the photo, I realized I knew who the third person was.

He had to be the former president of Tanaka Investments—Tanaka Ichiro’s uncle, the man who started the business. The more I stared at him, the more I began to see the family resemblance: the angle of the jawline, the shape of the nose...

I lowered the photo and looked at Dazai.

“Where... did you get this?”

“Shimada-san dropped this off last night while you were resting in the infirmary,” the bandaged detective answered. “He said to tell you, ‘President Tanaka sends his regards.’”

My eyes widened.

“He did?”

Dazai nodded.

And as I glanced back down at the photo, I thought I saw something written in black on the back side. I flipped it over.

“To Tanaka Isshun,” I read aloud, “Thank you for everything. I owe you my life... Yamazaki Shuji.”

I grew quiet. Dazai took his chin out of his hands and sat up.

“Something wrong, Kusunoki-kun?” he asked. “You look confused.”

I put the photo down and glanced up at him.

“I... I don’t understand,” I said. “If President Tanaka had this in his possession the whole time, then why would he have told me that Shuji-san was a bad person?”

Dazai’s eyebrows drew together.

“When did he tell you this?”

“Yesterday,” I said, thinking hard. “Or maybe it was the day before...?”

I shrank down in my seat a little as I told him the truth.

“It was the day you were in Nagano...”

“Ah.”

Dazai’s expression grew placid. I looked away from him and back at the photo.

“I-in any case, he said Shuji-san was desperate to escape Nagano, that he was willing to do anything it took to leave CORVID, include faking his own death. If this photo tells the truth, then why...?”

The photo wrinkled in my hand.

“Why did he give me this?”

Dazai grew quiet. Noticing my hand was shaking, he gently took the photo from me and examined it.

“I think...” he said quietly, lowering his eyes and scanning the picture, “that this is a thank you present. A gift for the rookie detective who saved him from being killed by a car bomb in that dingy parking garage.”

His expression softened into a smile as he handed the photo back.

“It’s also an apology.”

“Apology...?”

Confused, I took the photo from him.

“For what?”

“You remember that conversation we had back there in the conference room?” Dazai asked, as I looked back up at him. “The one about the goodly apple? About whether or not the apple is still good when you finally learn the truth?”

I nodded.

“Well,” Dazai said, his deep brown eyes sparkling as he regarded me, “I think this is President Tanaka’s way of saying you were right. That Yamazaki Shuji was, in fact, a good person.”

He leaned forward, his expression gentle.

“While I was in Nagano, I got to talk to Shuji-san’s family,” he said. “Do you want to know the reason why he wanted to leave CORVID?”

He leaned forward and tapped the photo.

“I heard he left...”

The tip of his finger brushed Mrs. Yamazaki’s face. Dazai smiled.

“So that he could get married.”

I breathed in sharply.

As I stared at the photo in my hands, at Mrs. Yamazaki’s smiling face, Dazai stood.

“I have one more present for you. And before you say you don’t want it,” he said, waving me off as I opened my mouth to protest, “It’s not from me.”

He placed a second envelope in my hands. Inside was a short letter and a beautiful bookmark in the shape of a flowering tree branch.

“It’s from Tomie-san’s family,” he said as I took out the bookmark. “They wanted to say thank you for saving her.”

“But I...”

I swallowed thickly. A lump was forming in my throat.

“I didn’t...”

I heard my own voice crack as I spoke. I hung my head.

“I didn’t save her,” I whispered.

As I stared at the photograph in my left hand, Mrs. Yamazaki’s smiling face began to blur.

“She was still murdered a week later... How could they still think I saved her...?”

“Because you gave her an extra week.”

Something large and warm settled on my head. I felt Dazai’s fingers slipping through my hair as my eyes began to burn and sting.

“A full seven extra days that she was able to spend with the people she loved, who loved her in return.”

Dazai smiled, his expression tender.

“And those seven extra days may have meant more to them than you and I could ever know.”

** A single drop fell onto the photo, followed swiftly by another.

“See,” Dazai said, as one by one, the tears began to fall like spring rain onto Mr. and Mrs. Yamazaki’s smiling faces.

“I told you that you’d need the handkerchief later.”

Taking the photo from me, Dazai reached over and placed a comforting arm around my shoulders as I broke down at last.

“In the end you were right, Kusunoki-kun,” he whispered, gently rubbing my back as I cried into my hands. “I guess all a goodly apple needs to be a goodly apple... is someone to believe in it.”

#bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #dazai x oc #dazai x reader #yosano akiko #bsd dazai #bsd dazai osamu #dazai #dazai osamu

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witchbeezyblog · 4 years ago

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The New Journey of Unlearning Old Agreements and Relearning New Ones

In the process of unlearning old belief systems that have kept me trapped in my personal manifestation of Hell, and so that I could learn a whole new way of existing I’ve been digging deep into my shadow side. This is something that I felt I had already dealt with, but I’m realizing that I’ve only tapped into one layer of one out of many things I need to process and reprocess as many times as need be.

The journey I am on right now I requiring me to unlearn what I was programed and conditioned to believe and rewrite new truths that are a perfect match for the version of myself that I buried long ago. A part of this relearning is sharing the process. It doesn’t matter who sees this and who doesn’t. What matters is that I put it out into the world instead of internalizing it and keeping it trapped in my mental space.

I recently brought a new journal and, in that journal, I am going one by one through every little thing I feel is holding me back from my own manifestation of Heaven on Earth. This is going to be a very time-consuming process. And in the process, I expect to “die” and transition and with each death and transition will come a rebirth that brings me closer to my true form. It will bring me closer to fully embracing who I am and standing in my light unapologetically.

The first thing I decided to unpacked was my feelings of being trapped in a job I don’t really want to do, but feel that I have to do. The thing is I can never fully be happy at any job because what my Soul is calling out for is complete freedom and liberation. Most Gurus and spiritual leaders will say “just leave.” But that simply isn’t the case for every single people. This is the real world. I am a single parent trapped in this generational cycle of trying to live in survival mode.

That is when I had my first realization. I’m not really mad because I have to work. I am mad that I am “stuck” in a system that I perceive to be out of my control. This is one of the agreements that my brain had been conditioned to believe. I need to set my mind free from this conditioning. In order to do that I need to realize that I came here to be free. This reality that I perceive and exist in is here because my God self created it. The world that I exist in is a product of my manifestation. So, believing that I am trapped in a system that keeps me in a survival comes from the conditioning. It comes from my perception. My fear that I can’t get out only feeds into that manifestation.

So, I need to change the belief. This goes for anyone who believes they are a victim to this system. This reality is yours. You came into existence to experience this life. The choice is yours when it comes to if you're going to experience Heaven or will you continue to experience Hell. Are you going to continue to focus on your chains? Or are you going to focus on strengthening your wings to freedom? Your right to thrive while you exist on this planet is not something you have to earn or fight for. It is yours to claim as your birthright. There is a system in place that tries to keep us locked away from us being completely free and living out our true purposes as Human, but the key is not to focus on that system and instead focus on our liberation and our new truth.

This is something that I already knew within myself. But getting it out in this form only solidifies it for me. It's no longer a belief in my mind. I have made it concrete.

Another thing I realized when I was evaluating why I felt like my job was getting in the way of what I really want was the assumption that I am a failure. This is a feeling that I didn’t want to acknowledge within myself because I know it’s not true, but just because I knew it wasn’t true didn’t change the fact that those feelings where still there and needed to be dealt with. This assumption came to me when I was studying my history, and realizing that from other people’s perceptive that I have come some low. I was an Honor student and I was set to go to college and a really good kind even though I had some emotional things that really needed to be worked on. But then I got pregnant and I still tried to go to school, but ended up dropping out. I’ve worked at Walmart, I’ve been a janitor, and now I work at Family Dollar. If I was to ask my Hight School Self, would I see myself where I am now the answer would be no. But that’s also because my High School Self also didn’t see my surviving that long if I’m being completely honest. My High School self would actually be very proud of who I have become.

I am not where I want to be yet financially, but most people in my age group aren’t. My High School self would be so proud that I managed to drag myself here, heal myself, and reconnect the things I threw away because they weren’t seen as important enough by others. My feelings of feeling of being a failure do not come from myself. It comes from the assumption that that’s how other people perceive me.

As an only child I felt pressured to be the perfect version because it was the only type of validation and recognition I got. The idea that I needed to make a bunch of money to be happy came from seeing my parents' slave to survive and starve me emotionally. I’ve watched friends move on to finish schools and find better paying jobs. But none of that is in alignment with who I truly am and who I want to be. I’ve been unhappy because I assume that others see me as a failure because they have not seen the work, I’ve put into myself to be emotionally, mentally, and spiritually healthy and sound. They cannot see what I’m working towards because it goes outside what is considered the “norm” or the formula that our society has created that is supposed to grantee us success.

Money does not equate to success, at least not for me. I had to realize that the things that happened to me were happening for me. I am not where I am today because I fucked up. I am blessed because I am here because the Divine stepping in time after time to intervene and save my ass from myself and the people trying to control and shape me into their image.

No, I didn’t finish school, yes, I am a single mother, and no I don’t have the highest paying job. But what I do have is a vision that goes outside of the blueprint that our society has instructed us to follow. No one but me is meant to believe in that vision and only I can determine if I am succeeding in following that vision. I couldn’t fully accept the fact that I am succeeding until I first let go of the conditioning, I was holding to something.

No, I am not completely where I want to be and I still have more to unpack. This is barely touching the surface. But when it comes to having to work to survive. I realized my job at the present moment isn’t the problem. It's not keeping me from following my dream. It is aiding me create an exit strategy. It’s easy to just tell someone that they should follow their heart and take that leap of faith. But sometimes you don’t need to take that leap. You shouldn’t leap unless you feel ready. Taking baby steps will still get you there. If you need you can take baby steps until you’ve faced enough of your fears that you feel ready to leap. Progress isn’t overnight it comes in increments.

You may take that leap and be unprepared, and the letdown will only give you more regret and shame that you’ll have to process through. Or you can take it one day at a time. Do your best for the day. One day your best may be to leave that job because staying in that job will be less than your best. For me personally my job brings me financial security because I don’t have to put so much pressure on my projects and the things, I actually enjoy doing to bring me financial gains. My current job allows me to invest in the things I need to do what I love like this laptop I am using now and the paint and canvases that I need. While at my current job I take advantage of that time by allowing me to listen to really inspiring and thought-provoking material. I work in retail and that can be really draining because I am an empath, and my job allows me to practice pulling my energy back to me and grounding myself and real-life scenarios. My job atmosphere is very relaxing and chill I feel very comfortable stepping into my most authentic self, and my current job is so accommodating I am able to bring my son with me for about an hour until his Nana picks him up. I can't think of another job that would allow that, but I am thankful as a Single Mother.

At this current moment I am able to focus on the good that my current job serves. I am doing my best. When I feel it is time to let go, I will let go. Until I am ready to let go, I can turn my present moment into my personal heaven for right now through doing what makes me happy and not feeling trapped because of system that doesn’t have any control over me. And I will not hold on to the guilt and shame that comes with my perceived perceptions of other people who don’t fucking matter.

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aethuviel · 4 years ago

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Real life Na’vi tribe, the Blue Moon Tribe, and realistic goals of going off-grid

In late 2009, James Cameron’s “Avatar” film came, and with it, the Avatar-related forums. There were Avatar forums, Tree of Souls, and Learn Na’vi.

While the film made an impression on me in terms of its world-building and aesthetic beauty, it did not challenge my view on lifestyle or give me ideas on how to live in the future.

But for some, it did. It was in August of 2010 that I (then nineteen years old) was reading around on the aforementioned Avatar boards, where there was a very(!) lengthy (I believe 50+ pages by the time I found it?) thread regarding the idea of making your own “Na’vi-style” tribe, as a lifestyle.

I read the first few pages and thought “Ha! Fun idea, but I could NEVER-” I kept reading. It took me two whole days to read the entire thing. I went from “maybe I could do it during the summers during the seasonal idea they are discussing, but I couldn’t live forever without my books-” to “I WANT TO DO THIS”.

At nineteen, I was at a standstill in life and had no idea where to go from there. All I knew before this was that I wanted to live in the countryside, but I had no idea and no help on how to make this a reality.

This was something completely new to me, that seemed extremely appealing. I had actually watched Into the Wild just a few months prior, but had no inspiration from it (maybe because it was Alaska, then completely unappealing to me, and the poor guy did starve to death).

By the time I found them, the thread had been broken off into its completely separate, non-Avatar-related forum. They were very clear that while Avatar forums is where they met and were inspired, the project was a serious thing and had nothing to do with “larping” or trying to live literally like Na’vi. The forum was called “the Revolutionists”, better name pending.

The oldest member, who also had the server to the new forum and was one of the most active members, was 37 at the time. The youngest was only 15, and I’d say the average age was around 21. We numbered around 15-20 committed members.

The knowledge was great among some of the members, talking about permaculture, water and waste systems, et cetera. A chat room was set up, and while we had some structured meet-ups in there, there was almost always someone there.

I was extremely inspired, but knew nothing, so I mostly stayed silent, read and listened. Over the next year, I consumed everything I could find regarding “tribal living” or “going back to the wild”. Even then, in 2011, the internet was a much smaller place than today, and it was very hard to find decent resources.

Eventually, in a live chat, the name “Blue Moon Tribe” was decided on for the group. “BMT” had a lot of ideas, some of which I’ll list to give an easy overview...

Permaculture, not pure hunter-gatherer, as it is not feasible today

Hunting for meat, as raising meat animals was never considered

Animals like dogs and horses would be allowed

Funding/permission for the project by allowing researchers to study us as a “social experiment”, as surely this has not been attempted before?

Firearms vs just archery were lightly debated, but as far as I remember, never settled on

Hanggliders and other means of flying were discussed quite a bit, inspired by the Na’vi “Ikran”, but put into reality by perhaps being used to survey forest for the government (essentially as another means of being permitted “stewardship” of a piece of land rather than buying it)

Permanent life, including children and birth control were discussed at some length

We would live in a firm spot, with some sort of permanent structures

An enormous piece of land would be required, due to having to live largely off of hunting - we actually never calculated this very well (how much meat/person/year, how many animals per acre, etc.), but estimated it at 1000+ acres for a reasonable size tribe of ~20 people. This was one of the two ultimate death blows of the project.

Where in the world would it be? Members lived everywhere from the US and UK to Sweden, Germany, Chile, the Philippines, and more countries. Visa requirements for anyone moving would be daunting. I really tried researching this, but it never went anywhere, and it was the second death blow to the project. Never a set location. (In hindsight, it would be best to just aim on the US and be done with it. Or two locations, one American and one European.)

I went from being a very quiet student in the beginning, to becoming one of the leaders in “keeping it going”, when things seemed difficult, by keeping writing new threads, and trying to solve our most pressing problems - money (for buying land) and where to move.

I researched almost every country imaginable, made in-depth charts of my research, and felt most like some of the more well-off Latin American countries would fit us best, like Panama, Argentina or Mexico. A problem with tropical countries is that they often ban hunting. Spain could also be a good fit.

Note that while I researched most of the world (including southern Africa and all of southeast Asia), I excluded most of Europe, as after growing up in northern Sweden with winters easily going below -20C, I thought I loved the heat. :D (Oh I learned after visiting Tbilisi in July...)

My focus wasn’t all selfish, of course, and growing seasons were much better in warmer climates. Mostly, we(!) focused on the subtropics.

But the years passed, and nothing happened. Not even the real life meeting we had discussed.

There was another group, meanwhile, that had been inspired from the same Avatar source, but had remained on its forum, Learn Na’vi - we called this the “real life Na’vi tribe”, with no official name. I was active on this forum as well, mostly to help, as I saw myself joining this project in real life unlikely, but if they succeeded first, maybe I would.

Overall, this other project was far less organized, with more “casuals” coming for a week and then leaving (both projects had this problem early on, in 2010), less structure and dare I say, less maturity. Some mature voices pitched in, but they mostly had no personal interest at all, they simply wanted help people keep their feet on the ground.

In the beginning, some really outlandish ideas were suggested, and it had a far greater focus on NA’VI RE-ENACTMENT, even though this faded in favor of... reality. Obviously no one is going to spend their entire life living like fictional aliens from a movie.

Reducing the project to a simple summer camp was discussed, as well as the idea of separating it - not in locations, but having two parallel projects in the same location. One would be the “true” tribal life, and then an ecovillage nearby for a “softer” approach. I urged them to go for the ecovillage, period, but it was ditched altogether instead.

This group seemed less happy with having animals, even horses (though I joked to myself, “Hey, even the Na’vi have horses?”), but the focus was still on a huge plot of land for hunting.

After a few years of doing even more poorly than BMT, the entire forum category on the Learn Na’vi forum was locked, due to inactivity. The project had officially failed.

For BMT meanwhile, members kept falling away. Someone realized he didn’t want to leave his country and have to speak English for the rest of his life. Someone else found a career they wanted to focus on. Someone else joined the army. Life happened, we were mostly 18-24 year olds, and did not have as much foundation in our idea as we thought.

When I “left” in early 2015, there were maybe 3-4 of us left in a different chatroom, as our entire forum had been taken down by hackers, and it was never reinstated. (Oh how I grieve this, as while the project is dead, there were droves of great information on it. The original thread on Avatar forums that birthed the project is also gone, as the entire forum is down.)

I was clear that I didn’t leave the plans to have an off-grid lifestyle, only Blue Moon Tribe, as it was obviously dead, despite my best efforts to keep it going. (Not to give myself too much credit, I was never a “leader” of the project or by any means the most knowledgeable, but I did take upon myself the role of inspiration and keeping people’s spirits focused.)

I met some of the other members on Tree of Souls later, where there was a thread with people asking what happened with these projects. It all basically ran off in the sand, as we say in my language.

It’s been almost six years since I left, why talk about it now? Because I keep thinking about it. What happened, why it died, and what we could have done instead.

First off, I would not join this project today.

This project taught me that off-grid life was a thing, and not just a dream, but a feasible lifestyle. I had never heard of it before finding the then still unnamed Blue Moon Tribe.

I am still very actively working on my off-grid future, but it is a very different lifestyle from the one these groups planned.

During 2015, when I went complete lone wolf and planned it only for myself, I downsized and downsized until I (reluctantly) realized a few acres is all you need. Most hunters (and I still do plan on hunting) don’t own their own acreage. You can hunt for food without owning the hunting land.

While I was completely fine with hunting, I felt extremely squeamish with killing animals I raised myself. After watching enough YouTube videos, I got rid of this fear and decided to have chickens and rabbits as well. I was focusing on Spain, or perhaps Ireland or Croatia, as my off-grid destination.

Later that same year, I met my husband, a man who had dreamed of living in Alaska or the Russian far east since early childhood, and we made our plans for the future together. Our first few weeks meeting in real life were spent staying up late at night, talking for hours and hours, mainly about off-grid life.

During the years before it failed, in 2013 specifically, I found the then phenomenal (it has really gone downhill in recent seasons) TV series “Ben Fogle’s New Lives in the Wild”. So many different people who have found their “wild life”, in so many different locations and ways, from so many different backgrounds and outlooks. It is a gold mine, and I would have drooled over it even more if it existed back in 2011. It would have helped our project tremendously.

During 2011-2012, I also looked up ecovillages. Mostly just for research, to see what they were doing, but also, possibly, to join. (The existence of hundreds upon hundreds of ecovillages made our project members realize BMT’s idea was not that unique and that the “let researchers study us”-idea may not be so feasible...)

I found that, out of ~200 ecovillages I looked up around the Americas and southern Europe, at least half were vegetarian or vegan in their rules, and while the other half permitted meat-eating, not one hunted or raised meat. I found one project in Hawaii (only a single family, no one else yet) that had chickens for eggs and cows for milk, but that’s it. Lots of woo-ey spiritual retreats and that kind of thing, not a lot of long-term living.

Something I learned from New Lives in the Wild, is that while many do this alone or with their family, only a handful of these projects were “communes”, and they were mainly made up of hippie-like, transient young people coming and going. Same with my ecovillage research, I did not find a single true village with families creating a permanent existence.

So, on to my criticism of projects like these, and why they are doomed to fail without much better foundations and goals:

Unstructured/unrealistic goals, as it was the death blow of both projects. We had no real calculations on how much land we would need, for what, and how much money would be needed.

No set location from the get-go. Again, we should have just said “US”, picked a state (as there are tons of resources on this), and let that be that. At least half of the members were American.

Creating a community meant to last is hard. One kind piece of advice I saw on the Real-life Na’vi tribe was that “you won’t be able to make it work without a common spirituality”, and I, as the then diehard atheist, dismissed it straight away, but she was right. Without common cultural/racial/spiritual roots, or a spiritual common goal (”converts”, not as easy as people who have been raised in it, but better than nothing), communities like this will break up. It is just human nature. Without strong foundations in culture and spirituality, there is no “social glue” to keep you together through the decades.

As a side to the same point, most people simply can’t live in these artificial communities long-term. I know now I couldn’t, and I realized that in 2015. I am much too introverted and non-conformist to live in a “group”. We could be neighbors, but anything more than that would feel too “suffocating” for me, and conflicts would be inevitable. I’m also sure some of these members would today be on polar opposites of the political conflict, and so would be unlikely to even get along.

I believe the Blue Moon Tribe could have survived with better resources and better planning, but the major pitfall for its long-term survival (people living together for decades to come) would be its lack of “social glue”.

One of the unofficial “leaders” and the oldest member of the project, left because, as she said, she felt more attached to her homeland the older she got, and could not imagine leaving. She was ten years older then than I am today, and I feel the same way, now in my late twenties.

In my early twenties, I longed for “exotic” and “far away”. I wanted tropics or subtropics in a far away land. Cob houses.

In my late twenties, I long for rustic log cabins in the boreal habitat, as close to home as possible. I have seriously considered Chile, but aside from immigration problems, being so far away on the southern hemisphere with no boreal fauna bothered me as well. I think this is a natural progression through early adulthood.

Years ago, I thought rural Scandinavia was so boring.

Now, I watch videos of those who live this lifestyle in their ancestral village in Sweden, and weep with envy. I can never do that, not just because of the harsh winters, but because I can’t stay in Sweden for legal reasons. (A very important law that has no chance of change in the coming decades, and which makes it impossible for me to stay.)

I now live in Norway, and will probably stay here. My husband and I are currently gathering money - about halfway to our goal so far (we have only been able to actively save money for a year, so this will only take another year or two) - to buy a plot of land, perhaps inland, near the Swedish border - and live our lives there, in the woods, the way we want.

All our dreams won’t be realized, as some dreams are simply meant to stay that way, and the world is no longer free - but it will be as close to paradise as we can make it.

#off grid #homesteading #permaculture #going tribal #new lives in the wild #avatar #na'vi #living in the wild

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yadds · 5 years ago

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Tony Reappears - Pt 2

The follow-up to my previous post looking at what would happen if Tony appeared out of nowhere to be found by Peter, who’s still haunted by Beck’s reality bending.

In which Tony is in bad shape and Peter helps, Strange snarks, and Pepper gives him the kick in the pants he needs.

This is now Part 2 of what is looking to be turning into a slow-burn starker, y’all. Just a heads up, it’s still Pepperony for now since it’s pretty much canon compliant through Endgame.

__________________________________________

Peter was at his side before he could blink, hands hovering, unsure, before cradling Tony’s face briefly, eyes darting across his features as he catalogued every detail. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I-is it really you?”

Tony just nodded wearily, letting out a soft huff as Peter’s hands slid back through Tony’s hair, touching the gray at his temples reverently. Seriously, if he wasn’t already about to pass out he’d probably be reeling from the emotional whiplash of seeing Peter transform back into the gentle, wholesome boy he remembered.

When Peter seemed to be content to simply stare, followed by flitting, fleeting touches, Tony cleared his throat before croaking, “Hands?”

Peter’s brow scrunched in confusion before realization dawned, cheeks flushing. “Oh! Oh, oh, oh my gosh. Of course. Um, here, one second,” he muttered, fumbling with something on his web shooters before producing a vial of clear liquid that he poured carefully over the webbing on Tony’s hands.

“This is normally something I use in aerosol form from my web shooters, but it can make a mess and it makes everything ironically sticky, so I figure you might not appreciate a potential full-body spray. I’m still working out the kinks - It’s surprisingly rare that I ever need to prematurely dissolve my webbing,” Peter explained, voice high and quick like he was nervous.

“I seem to remember designing a solution for that specific problem - in fact, I think it was the first thing I did when I got back to my lab with remnants of your spider juice still stuck to my hands after our first meeting,” Tony said. Or at least he tried to, but his mouth just wouldn’t cooperate. It came out more like; “I...solution already...lab...spider juice,” with incoherent mumbling in between.

But Peter, bright, wonderful Peter, got the gist and grinned, small and guarded but genuine. “Yeah, of course you did Mr. Stark,” he assured as he pulled Tony’s hands away from the wall and set them gently on the floor next to him. “You thought of everything for my suits! But I’m always tinkering with the web fluid design so I’m also having to change the dissolving solution.”

How long has it been? Tony finally thought to wonder.

Peter sat back on his haunches, still staring wonderingly at Tony. Tony couldn’t blame him - if he had the energy, he’d probably be doing the same thing. He had invented time travel, primarily to bring back one Peter Parker, to remedy his worst failure. Of course, saving the rest of the world was motivation as well, but that was mostly an afterthought. And other than a quick, heartfelt hug on a battlefield at the end of the world, he never got the chance to acknowledge that he had actually succeeded.

But now that his life wasn’t in immediate danger, his pounding headache and burning throat were clamoring for attention again. Right. A glass of damn water, that’s how this started.

Tony’s head listed to the side, staring forlornly at the fridge. It was only about two feet away, but it might as well have been two thousand miles.

Peter followed his gaze and, noticing the shattered glass on the floor, quickly realized what Tony was wanting. “You want some water, Mr. Stark?”

Tony nodded gratefully. When Peter returned a minute later, he tried to lift his hands to grab the cup, but couldn’t get them to do more than twitch. After hovering awkwardly for about thirty seconds, Peter hesitantly lifted the glass to Tony’s mouth, tilting it carefully so that the water trickled slowly past his lips.

When that first drop of cool, clean water touched his tongue, Tony’s breath hitched and his eyes stung, overwhelmed by the relief of it. But after only three swallows, he felt the liquid fall heavily into his completely empty stomach and he clamped his lips shut tight. Peter’s intent, watchful gaze and quick reflexes ensured that he noticed almost immediately and righted the glass, pulling it away. Now that Tony could feel the moisture on his face from the slight dribble that escaped his mouth, he realized how agonizingly dry his skin felt, stretched taut and paper thin. His heart was racing, chest heaving, the thirty seconds of interrupted breathing it took to have his precious drink apparently too much after everything else.

He glanced back up at Peter to see his face creased with concern, his mouth moving but no sound coming out. He could definitely make out the ‘Are you okay?’ forming on Peter’s lips.

He tried to respond. To reassure him that he was fine, he just needed to rest, but spots were blooming behind his eyes, slowly taking up his field of vision as his heart rate continued to increase. Uh oh. He was pretty familiar with the way an overstressed heart felt and this was suspiciously similar. He felt Peter’s hands press firmly on his chest and saw his name frantically falling from his mouth before his eyes rolled back and everything faded away.

When he awoke, he blinked blearily, eyes sluggishly tracking around the room he was in. Off-puttingly white, machines beeping quietly in the background, and people in scrubs off to the side. A hospital. Which was probably apt, considering he felt like he’d been starved to death only to be thrown in front of a train and lit on fire. He also took note of the comfortable mattress and tastefully low lighting. So he was probably in one of his own facilities.

“Mr. Stark! You’re awake!” Tony startled at the exclamation to his right, not aware that anyone was there. He turned his head to see Peter, the wizard standing aloofly behind him.

“What happened?” Tony asked scratchily, hand coming up to rub absently at his throat. Peter leapt to his side to bring a cup of water with a straw to him, only letting him take a few sips this time before pulling it away. Tony gave him a quick smile in thanks.

“Well I was hoping you’d be able to tell us,” Strange said dryly.

“I meant my health at the moment, which I thought you might have a better idea of than I since you’re actually a doctor, as you’re so fond of reminding me,” Tony responded, finding the remote and levering his bed up to sit up slightly, feeling much more human than the last time he’d been awake.

Strange stared at him impassively for a long moment before replying. “Of course. Well your vitals are stable now. Your main ailments are malnutrition and dehydration extreme enough to bring you to the brink of organ failure, which has been aided by the IV fluids and nutrients you’ve been receiving for the three days you’ve been unconscious. You’ll be on a strict diet for a while before you’re ready to eat normally.”

“Spectacular,” Tony sniped. At least he’d regained enough energy to maintain his flippant attitude. Priorities. “Don’t worry Doc, I know the drill. Been there, done that. Would have gotten the t-shirt, but they were fresh out. You know the saying. Whatever. Point is, that’s a pretty standard medical issue. A little above your pay grade these days isn’t it?”

“I was simply answering your question, Stark. That’s not why I’m here.”

When silence followed that statement, Tony gestured in his direction. “Do you need an engraved invitation to finish that thought? A drumroll? Some dramatic mood lighting?”

The smothered laugh from Peter’s direction was a pleasant counterpoint to the irritated pursing of lips from Dr. Strange.

“I would have thought it would be pretty clear. You reappeared unexpectedly after being dead for 3 years. I’m here to figure out what’s going on and make sure you haven’t completely torn a hole in the fabric of the universe, as I’m sure you would at the first possible opportunity.”

“And to make sure you’re really okay, you know, mind, body, soul and all that,” Peter chimed in.

“Yes. You do appear to actually be alive, by the way, considering near organ failure affected you as it would anyone else. Further tests will need to be done to determine if everything else is ‘normal’,” Strange explained.

“Mmhmm,” Tony hummed with a dismissive nod. He was choosing to work very hard at not thinking about the fact that he’d pulled some kind of resurrection act. He didn’t know how he was back, if he was still himself, how long he would be here or anything. And he was choosing to live in blissful ignorance at this point. That was a problem for future Tony. If there would be one. Who knows? He could disappear tomorrow.

“So you really don’t remember anything?” Strange pushed.

Tony glared at him. “Whoops, you caught me, Merlin. I’m purposely keeping a whole host of information all to myself so that I can remain under constant surveillance and suspicion. Because that’s how I get my jollies. No. I remember dying - which, not super fun, let me tell you - then nothing, until I suddenly showed up here. Or there. Am I still at the Compound? Where am I?”

“Yeah, you’re at the Avengers medbay on the Compound campus,” Peter answered helpfully.

“Well there you go. Consider me interrogated,” Tony intoned.

Strange was opening his mouth, probably to continue his inane, insulting questioning, but Tony cut him off as he saw the door to his room open. “Pepper, Honey, light of my life!” he called, holding his arms out in her direction.

Pepper stopped right inside the doorway, hand falling heavily on the wall beside her as she stared at Tony with wide eyes that were quickly filling with tears, chin quivering. “Tony,” she whispered.

“The one and only. Come on Doll, don’t leave me hanging here,” he joked, hoping the desperation that was creeping into his chest wasn’t apparent in his voice.

Pepper finally moved, stumbling to a stop at Tony’s bedside and collapsing to the side of the bed to gather him in her arms. Tony let out a heavy, ragged sigh. Yes. This is what he’d needed, her warmth seeping into his skin like a toasty towel fresh out of the dryer.

After a moment, he looked around and frowned. “Where’s the munchkin?”

Pepper pulled back, looking uncomfortable but not averting her gaze. “Tony. We don’t know yet what’s going on - are you really back? For how long? Are you completely stable? It didn’t seem right to bring Morgan into this until we knew for sure.”

“Right, yes, of course,” he murmured, heart seizing in his chest again. It all made sense and objectively, he agreed. She was still so young - to involve her now when he could possibly be gone in another five minutes would just be devastating.

But subjectively, it was fucking ripping him to shreds. His daughter, his baby girl. Even if he was only here for five seconds, he’d want to spend them holding her tight. But that was selfish. She’d probably moved on by now, made some kind of peace with his death. He didn’t want to ruin her world all over again. And what if he wasn’t safe? What if he suddenly went berserk? What if he was some radioactive mutant or some crazy shit like that? No, this was the right decision. Didn’t mean it wasn’t low key killing him all over again though.

Suddenly he was a lot more motivated to face everything and get it all figured out. Guess he’d have to actually cooperate with fucking Dumbledore. Wonderful.

__________________________________________

Part 3 - Tony comes back with more than he bargained for

#starker #eventually #slow burn #tony comes back #endgame fix it #tony stark x peter parker #tonyxpeter #ironspider #fic #ficlet #yadds writes #tony stark #peter parker #pepper potts #peter takes care of tony #tony is a good dad #starker fic #my au: Tony Reappears

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stars-in-my-damn-eyes · 5 years ago

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I’m deleting my current draft of Death to the Details chapter 8 because I actually just want to write some aimless fluff about the witchers at Kaer Seren and Julian being taught the lute instead of Aimless Violence Chapter 869760258, but I’m posting what I’ve got so far (only 800 words ew) because Why Not

***

The forest was burning.

The stench of ash hung thick in the air, thick and inescapable, settling in the lungs of anyone who approached, the orange flames crackling and growing in size with each passing moment. Trees and shrubs blackened and withered under the searing blaze, as it devoured everything in its path.

Alright, perhaps that was a bit of an exaggeration, because it was really only a little part of the forest, and it was only a bit on fire, but it was significantly more on fire than it had been five minutes ago.

The direness of the situation was really only hammered home entirely by the constant stream of expletives pouring from Erland of Larvik’s mouth, the usually polite is severe man listing off every expletive Julian had ever heard, as well as some he hadn’t. In multiple languages, too. It was a surreal sight to behold.

It was a testament to the grandmaster witcher’s competence that he had, in fact, been able to fight the damn fire with signs and strength alone, swiftly destroying the trees in the fire’s path as well as countering the inferno’s spread physically, to the point where he was succeeding in pushing the fire back - it was an awe-inspiring thing to watch.

Bringing his hands up to form a familiar sign, Erland advanced towards the fire, casting Aard to push it back, the burst of pressure starving the flame of oxygen and putting a part of it out, only pushing it back a fraction of an amount. He moved, with the confidence of someone who had done such things before, and repeated the manoeuvre once again from a different angle, once more reducing the somewhat formidable blaze in size fairly significantly. From the frustration on the man’s face, tinged with exasperation, it was a evident that the was not the first time a presumptuous young witcher had pulled such a stunt.

It did, however, seem to be one of the more severe transgressions that a trainee could have made - Erland of Larvik’s composure was not easily broken, and here he was, swearing like a sailor, as he blasted a fire with witcher signs.

Ordinarily, Julian would have made some kind of comment.

Not today.

As Erland finished his sign-fuelled battle with the fire, he whirled on Julian, focused anger not completely abated, and the boy was struck with the overwhelming urge to jump behind Coën and hide.

“Julian,” Erland said, almost calmly, the blaze in his eyes the only thing betraying his ire. “I find myself consumed by curiosity, here. Why was it that you found it a good idea to cast such an overwhelmingly powerful Igni in the middle of a forest?”

“I. Um,” Julian bit his lip. “I wasn’t really thinking about it. Sir.”

“That much is evident. I should hope you learn to think soon enough, then. I’ll not have the reputation of our school sullied because one boy decided that the best way to fight a creature was to set the entire forest on fire. Tell me, Julian, would you also raze a city to the ground to take care of a rodent problem?”

“No, sir.”

Julian swallowed. This was not nearly enough of a verbal evisceration for him to be getting off lightly after this. He could feel the bruises forming on his back already.

Erland glared at the boy, but didn’t reprimand him further.

Yep, he was definitely having the shit beaten out of him for this one. Julian winced.

“Another round, then,” the grandmaster witcher said, breaking the silence. “Hopefully, you’ll at least attempt to be aware of your surroundings this time.”

Another round.

Sparring with the same opponent too often led to habit - it mantra that Erland repeated every lesson - and habit was what got witchers killed. For this reason, Julian and Coën were only allowed to spar sparingly, in lessons.

This was one of those rare occasions.

Julian had heard offhanded rumours about the School of the Griffin placing more emphasis on the signs and other such things than the other witcher schools, but he’d assumed such a statement to be incorrect. They had, after all, not even touched on the signs for a year after Coën and Julian had gone through the Trial of the Grasses - but the rumour had quickly been proven true in the past few weeks, when Erland had told them one morning that they were learning the signs and started incessantly drilling them, having them memorise and practice signs that neither of them had ever even heard of before alongside the more common ones.

He’d thought that was bad, but the twentieth time Coën punted him into a wall with Aard had him wishing for the drills back.

“Coën on the offensive, Julian on the defensive, this time. Begin,” Erland said, and Julian barely had time to bring his hands up to throw Quen before Coën hit him with Aard, protecting himself from being thrown back by the force as he quickly dropped into a ready stance, prepared to counter a strike from Coën’s sword.

#death to the details #scrap

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mymarvelbunch · 5 years ago

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Be Your Own Hero - Steve Rogers x Reader (part 5)

Masterlist

Summary: Y/N has lost all her family and most friends in The Decimation (I refuse to call it The Blip). Refusing to believe their deaths are permanent, she dedicate years to find a way to reverse it. When she finally finds something that might help, she searches for the Avengers. It’s Steve Rogers x Reader, but there is also a lot of Badass!Reader. Also, Non-American!Reader. If you are American, think of a country you’d have loved to be born into :D

Warnings: none!

Note: Y/Co = your country. Y/Ci = your city; Y/N/L = your native language.

It’s training month! Enjoy!

Previously: “You heard her”, Rogers said at your side as you got in the building. “Training time. But first, let’s get you in shape. You do look a little sick.”

Part Five

You barely did any exercise on the first week, except for morning runs with Steve - now you felt more comfortable in calling by his first name, especially after he switched from ‘Y/L/N’ to ‘Y/N’. You didn’t really know how you got into first-name basis with someone in this country, so you just followed his switch.

Anyway, Steve took you to eat in many different places, though most of them were of the ‘healthy food’ type. More than once they’d be called a couple; at first you tried to deny it, but eventually you both gave up. “It does look like a date”, Steve said nonchalantly, but you got flustered just the same.

It was surreal to think of you having a date with Captain America of all people. Actually, you barely remembered how it was to date someone, as immersed as you were in your grief and your goal.

Now the work was on Stark’s hands (and whoever helped him). You could take a whole month to relax and focus on different tasks.

You and Steve talked a lot over food. He already knew some things about you, thanks to Natasha’s questioning on your first day there, but he kept asking more stuff. In turn, you began to ask about his personal life as well.

You talked about your relationship with your family, and he told you about his mother and how his father inspired him to become a soldier.

You mentioned some friends, and he told you about Bucky and his family.

You talked about med school, he mentioned his pre-war art classes. He even drew a portrait of you one day, at your own request, after sending him a selfie. He also told you about the weekly group therapy sessions he led, which you began to attend as well.

You mentioned all the things you used to love doing before the Decimation: dancing, muay thai, volleyball, gym, singing, playing violin... how you always tried to balance the mess that was college with these things, until you lost everyone and focused on your self-assigned mission.

He talked about the Howling Commandos, about Howard Stark and Peggy Carter. You could see it in his eyes; he missed the past and grieved the life the war took from him.

“Sorry if it’s too personal”, you asked over dinner at the end of the first week. So far they shared nothing truly personal, only life facts. “But do you wonder how would your life would have been if you had managed to go back to US? If you had crashed that plane?”

He stayed silent for a long time. You were about to apologize when he finally said, “Sometimes. There are a lot of possibilities to entertain myself with. I try not to, though. It’s useless.”

His voice left unclear whether he succeeded or not. Then he changed the subject to your future plans, and you accepted the topic was over and should be touched on again.

“After reuniting with my family and friends, I’d love to become a psychiatrist”, you replied. “I’ve always loved to take care of people’s mental health. It’s when I feel the most useful, and most fulfilled.” Your turned to him. “What about you? Are you going to give yourself a rest?”

“Does Captain America ever rest?”, he asked back and glanced away. “I took my 66-year-nap already.”

You didn’t reply to that.

Only after you were ‘properly fed’ that training started. Most of it was on weapons, though, instead of hand-to-hand combat. “We’ll focus on that later”, he explained when you asked. “Personally, I think your best chance will be with weapons.”

He first taught you to how to fire a gun and how to aim. For that, he’d keep touching your arms, hands and shoulders, and speak really close to you. You had to hold your breath if you wanted to stay minimally focused on the tasks at hand.

How long had it been since you last had such close contact with someone? Granted, Steve was being strictly professional, but your interactions made you realize how affection and touch-starved you became. You’ve spent for too long in isolation, and now your body was trying to catch up.

Still, you managed to shoot right at the end of your second day. He complimented you, and you felt your cheeks red as you thanked him.

Next was knives. Way more interesting, in your opinion. He didn’t really teach to stab at first, but to throw them at distance. “Given your lack of training”, he said, “I’d recommend you to stay as far away as possible from any possible enemy.”

Steve touching you has soon become a routine, thanks to all corrections he made on your technique. Day by day, you got used to it, but it still made your heart race.

Your post-training hang-outs didn’t help at all. You’d usually stay at the headquarters, watching a movie or two. On your third training day, Natasha gave you the task of “helping Steve catch up with the last 70 years”.

“Oh, come on”, he said. “I’ve watched all Star Wars and Harry Potter movies!”

“You know what”, you replied, “we should watch time-travel movies. Have you seen the Back to the Future trilogy?”

He hadn’t, so that’s what you did that evening, with Natasha. You three shared a huge bowl of popcorn, and it still wasn’t enough to last for half of the first movie - thanks to Steve’s super metabolism. “Do you have a black hole for a stomach, or something?”, you asked after he emptied the second refill.

He actually laughed at that. “I might”, he replied teasingly. You were sure your cheeks were slightly red, but you turned your attention to the movie.

Natasha wouldn’t always join you two, though. She often had calls to make, and time zones meant she sometimes had to do said call at odds hours. You also suspected she was leaving you and Steve alone on purpose, but decided to stay quiet on the subject. It didn’t make much sense in your head, to be honest; why would she try to set Steve, a long-time friend, to a near stranger (you)?

On your second day of knife-throwing, you asked him, genuinely curious, “Was this a skill you had to learn on your war times?”

“Actually, I learned this after I was defrosted”, he replied. “Back in the war, I only got gun training. They said ‘HYDRA won’t attack you with a knife’...”, he trailed off after that, with a distant and sad look.

You waited for him to resume his story, but when it didn’t happen, you asked, in a low voice, “Are you okay?”

He blinked, seemingly coming back to reality. “Oh, it’s just... Bucky attacked me with a knife when I met him as Winter Soldier.”

He spoke of the memory with odd fondness, but you didn’t ask further questions. “Guess your superiors were wrong, huh”, you said instead.

He nodded, a ghost of a grin in his lips. “Yeah, they were. Anyway, back to training. Here, you have to position your arm like this...”

And he was back to touching your arm, making you way too flustered for your liking. But you did everything right afterwards, so he most likely didn’t notice anything, much to your relief.

The last thing you wanted was for Steve to find out about your crush on him.

“We can take a break, you know?”

He raised his eyes to look at yours. “Why do you think we need one? Are you tired?” He sighed. Before you could reply, he kept on talking: “I should have realized you’d be. You’re not a super soldier, you wouldn’t pick up on my spe-”

“It’s not that”, you interrupted. He frowned. “I’m following you just fine, despite our... speed differences, or whatever you want to call it. I’m talking about... you, actually.”

His frown deepened. “What about me?”

You bit your lip. “You seem... down. Ever since breakfast. Like... like you woke up with less energy than usual.”

Silence followed your statement. You were about to dismiss your own words when he spoke up. “It’s my mother’s death anniversary.”

You felt your own face soften at that. “Oh, Steve”, you approached him and placed both hands on his shoulders. “We really should take a day off then.”

He closed his eyes and seemingly leaned into your touch, though it could have been an illusion on your part. “I... would mind hugging me?”

Your eyes widened, but you wouldn’t deny such a request. You hugged him as tightly as his physique let you, and he circled his strong arms around you. You heard sniffing. “It’s okay”, you whispered.

“It’s been over eighty years”, you heard him say. “It shouldn’t hurt this much anymore.”

“It will always hurt”, you replied, voice as soft as you could manage. “And Steve, you missed nearly 70 of those years. It hasn’t been that long for you, and no one is allowed to judge you for mourning your mother.”

He sobbed a for couple minutes and then broke apart from hug, a tear still visible. You were tempted to take that tear away with your thumb, but managed to stop yourself.

“Is there anything you’d like to do today?”, you asked. “I’ll stay with you. This is no time to be alone.”

He gave you a weak. “Thank you. It means a lot.” He took a breath. “I haven’t visited her grave since the Decimation. It only reminded me that Bucky, Sam and the others didn’t have a grave of their own. But now that there is hope they won’t need it...”, he trailed off again.

“Oh well. let’s go then.”

You looked for Natasha before heading to the cemetery, but then you remembered she had gone abroad to get Hawkeye.

The ride to the cemetery was quiet, and so was the path to Sarah Rogers’ grave - which, as you found out, was next to her husband’s. Steve knelt in front of both of them and you stepped aside, distancing yourself from the scene enough to give him privacy, but still close enough that you could quickly go to him in case he needed.

He stayed there for almost an hour, but looked at peace when stood up and called you to leave. You smiled at him, and you two went back to the Headquarters.

“You know what would cheer you up?”, you said after you changed clothes. “YouTube. I know just the thing, if you want to.”

His eyebrows arched. “I’m a bit afraid of what you’ll show me, but... let’s give it a try.” You beamed at him and asked for a tablet, which he promptly gave to you.

Two hours later, there were tears in his eyes, but of laughing too much. “Wait, there’s more!”, you said, laughing along.

“More? What happened in 2019 for people to make these crazy Freddie Mercury videos?”

You shrugged. “No idea, but I always laugh like an idiot when I see them. Thank you, YouTube recommendations.”

“Your recommendations page includes the entire Bee Movie voiced with 80s pop songs.”

“Exactly! We should try that one later.”

“Y/N no.”

“Y/N yes!”

“You’re insane.”

“That’s part of my charm.” You looked up and saw a fond expression in his face as he nodded.

“You have a point”, he said. Your face burned.

He eventually taught to you stab. Where to go for a kill, and where to go if you just wanted to incapacitate. You still trained your aim, of course, and he showed you a few fighting moves - mostly self-defense, since you were more likely to need to block attacks than doing them.

“If you ever get attacked, do everything in your power to stay away. Only then, if needed, you attack”, he explained. “I know you are not a complete beginner, but you still have to think of every move you do when you attack. We can’t have that, and you should avoid relying on instinct.” A pause. “God, I hope we won’t ever need to see if these lessons will pay off.”

You nodded. “I hope so, too.”

Then you heard Natasha come in. “Guys”, she said. “We have a problem.”

Carol Danvers (the one named Captain Marvel), appeared immediately after. “Thor wants to send his right-hand Valkyrie. Said he isn’t needed.”

“What?”, you exclaimed at the same Steve said, “You’ve got to be shitting me.”

Natasha shook her head. “Carol and I wen to see him in New Asgard. We wanted Bruce and Rocket to go at first, because he’s closer to them, but apparently they were in the final stages of development of the time machine... Anyway, he hasn’t been doing well there last three years at all. Valkyrie said he spends the whole day in his cabin, drinking and gaming. I saw him. He’s like, twice his weight, and not on muscles.”

You took a step closer to the two. If things with Thor were going like it seemed to, maybe you could help. “He’s having a drinking problem and refuses to fight”, you summarized.

Natasha nodded. “You didn’t see him right after the Snap, Y/N. He barely talked, barely ate, barely lived. This is the first time I see him smiling, and it’s not even real.”

You nodded slowly. “Alcoholism, depression, possible PTSD”, you mumbled, but they all heard you anyway, and stared at you. “What? I’m a doctor.”

“Do you think you could help him?”, Steve asked.

“I can try. Can’t guarantee anything, though.”

“You should go, then”, Natasha said. “I can’t leave again; Clint needs me around.” Apparently, Hawkeye had gone mad with grief and busted on a killing spree, murdering criminal around the world. So far he had calmed down, thanks to Natasha, but he was still deemed unsafe to be near others. “You don’t have to go by yourself, though.”

“I’ll go”, Steve offered. “If Y/N wants to, that is.” You turned your head to face him.

“Of course I want to! You don’t think I’d willingly go there alone, do you? I don’t know Thor!”

“Hey, there’s me”, Danvers protested weakly.

Three hours later, you, Steve and Danvers were on your way to New Asgard.

Valkyrie, who looked every bit like a mythological legend, led you to Thor’s cabin. “Be careful”, she whispered.

“I’m bringing a super-human with me”, you replied, patting Steve’s shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”

She didn’t believe you, but knocked on the door anyway. Thor opened a whole minute later.

You took a moment to look at him as he excitedly greeted Steve. He was shirtless, and it was clear Natasha wasn’t kidding when she said he was twice his weight; that much was clear, even if you had only seen him through pictures. His beard and hair were longer than you had ever seen, and he looked like he hadn’t taken a bath in days.

“And who are you, lady?”, he asked, turning to you.

“Y/N Y/L/N, Your Majesty”, you replied politely.

He laughed loudly at that. “‘Your Majesty’? Ha, that’s funny! That’s how you introduce me to newcomers, Val? M’lady, I don’t even run my own life, let alone this entire… village. No, no, I’m no king. Val’s in charge. Of everything.” He tried to sound cheerful, but failed miserably.

“Y/N is a friend, Thor”, Steve said, seemingly ignoring the Asgardian’s rant. “Mind if we go inside?”

Stumbling, he moved to let you two in. You took in your surroundings. The living room had a TV with videogame equipment, a fireplace, dozens of beer cans (half of them obviously empty), a very used couch, and a corridor that led to a kitchen you didn’t dare enter.

“Welcome, welcome”, he said loudly and… well, a little drunkenly. “What do I owe you the pleasure? I hope it’s not to try to make me fight, like Nat and Danvers wanted. Because I’m over it. I’m a peaceful man now.”

“Oh, really?”, you asked, looking at the TV screen. “That Fortnite game over begs to differ.”

He let out an embarrassed laugh. "Oh, that thing over there? It's nothing, just something I do when I have friends over."

"Oh, okay." You didn't believe that for a second. Although Danvers did mention some 'weird-looking' friends when she and Natasha came, he was alone this time. "Anyway, I came here to meet you, Thor. I've met all of the Avengers, but I was looking forward to fight with you. I've been a huge fan of yours-"

He raised his hand, frowning deep. "Fight with me? Are you going into battle, Lady Y/N? Because with all due respect, you are in no shape to fight. You are far too skinny for a warrior." He turned to Steve, who was standing by the corridor. "Is this true?"

He nodded. "Y/N is the one who gave us a reason to fight. It's in her right to join us." You knew Steve was as worried as Thor, but you were grateful that he hid it. "It's about having a right to fight", Thor snapped, "It's about risking a life! Why are you allowing such a risk?"

"We need numbers", you replied. "That's why Natasha and Danvers came here. We need as many as we can get. But I see it now. You are the one in no condition to fight, and I'm sorry for bringing it up.”

“I’m in perfect shape!”, he snapped. “My current looks may fool you, but I’m still stronger than any Midgardian!”

“Oh, Thor, I wasn’t talking about shape.” You sat down, and gestured for him to follow you. When he say by your side, you continued, “I can see it in your eyes. You’ve lost a lot, haven’t you? Your mom, your dad, your brother, your friends, most of your people... You haven’t moved on, have you? Not from the, not from Thanos... from anything at all.”

His face contorted in anger. “How can you possibly know that”, he said, “how can you possibly understand what I’ve been through? You’ve never suffered like I have!”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Steve taking a step to your direction, but you raised you hand to stop him, while placing the other on Thor’s shoulder. “When someone goes through as many traumas as you did... it leaves a mark. We all have our scars; but not all of them are visible to the eye. And there is no shame in having them. It makes you a great fighter.” A pause. “I lost my whole family too. In the Decimation.” At that, Thor looked up. “But I hope to bring them back. And I’m sorry I can’t offer you the same hope, but... that’s why I’m fighting, even though I lack expertise.”

A long silence followed your words. Suddenly Thor stood up and walked up to the TV corner, grabbing a huge axe you hadn’t noticed until that moment. He then walked to kitchen, and you saw him moving to get a bottle of drink. Steve stopped him, though. “Not on my watch”, he said. “We need you sober for this, buddy.”

“Oh, c’mon”, Thor snapped again. “You want to take me away from my only joy?”

“Yes, we do”, you said. “Because we want you to have joy from other things too. It’s time for you to move on, Thor. It’s what your family would have wanted.”

Valkyrie and Thor stayed on the back of the ship. You overheard her giving him tips on how to deal with the first alcohol-free days. You then glanced at Steve, who smiled at you.

“You did a great job, Y/N”, he said. “For a moment I thought everything was lost.”

“I thought so too”, you admitted. “And this is just the first step. He needs professional help if he wants to take the rest of the journey.”

“Then let’s make sure he sticks around long enough for us to help us find it.”

You nodded and rested on your seat. Then you noticed something on his left pocket. “Is that a rosary?”

He followed your gaze and nodded. “I always carry one with me.”

“Do you want to pray?”, you asked. “I’m Catholic too.”

He smiled, and led your prayers.

A few hours later, you landed in front of the headquarters. Natasha waited for you, along with Clint Barton and James Rhodes (aka War Machine).

“We have great news waiting for you inside”, Rhodes began, but interrupted himself upon seeing Thor. “You alright, man?”

“Nope”, he replied. “But give me a few training days and some meat, and I’ll be good as new.”

Well, at least he didn’t ask for a drink.

“Okay, then”, Rhodes shrugged. “As I was saying... Tony and his new team managed to build that time machine.”

“Rocket has already tested it”, Natasha added. “It’s safe.”

You and Steve exchanged glances and smiled wide. From your side, you heard Danvers say, “Let’s get it started, then.”

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

If you are going through hard times, do not hesitate to seek professional and trained help. Check local resources and ask for recommendations. Bottling up never did anyone any good. I’m free to listen, if you want.

As I said last chapter, part 6 will feature major changes in canon. Stay tuned!

Taglist (open!): @autobotgirl15-blog @starstrucknature @cheeseburgersstuff @aamzter2013

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #captain america x reader #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x y/n #marvel imagine #marvel #avengers: endgame

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fandom-necromancer · 5 years ago

Text

Chasing time

This was prompted by the wonderful @smolandangry001! Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: self-neglect, description of a serial-killer-case)

[Remaining time: 00:00:05] [Remaining time: 00:00:04] [Remaining time: 00:00:03] [Remaining time: 00:00:02] [Remaining time: 00:00:01] [Remaining time: 00:00:00] [Victim died.]

‚PHCK!‘ Nines stared down on his hands, back up to the screen where he saw millions of pictures, websites and articles flickering by. He had long connected himself to the computer and didn’t care to put up an act as a human. They had no time for typing, no time for writing down and waiting for sites to load. They didn’t even have the time to blink, to go into stasis for the day or to go to the toilet. Thankfully, Nines didn’t need that. Gavin, however did, and the human slowed him down despite his unbelievably efficient way of thinking and his willingness to sacrifice whatever necessary to fulfil his duty.

Disappointed and weirdly worn out, Nines took the few seconds to shut down all processes that would only lead them to another dead body. They had outsourced finding the body to their co-workers, solely concentrating on finding the next person faster and hopefully still alive. Their opponent was always a step in front of them, always dropping hints for them to run after and deciding to send them in a loop whenever they got too close on finding the murderer. It was a game, a perfidious game that played with the life of people.

It chiselled away on their nerves and with every new victim turning up there was less hope they would be able to win. All they had managed until now was lose and lose and lose, picking themselves up and trying again. Three persons were dead already, well four now, and every body would turn up with a stopped watch depicting the time of the next murder and a hint to the location. Well, time to send off the gathered data to the other team and then tend to their own bodily needs until someone would wake them with the time and hint of the next.

Nines stood up and waited for Gavin to follow. The man looked worse than ever. Too little sleep, a constant headache too high intake of caffeine and no free time did that to a body. Humans were no machines and still Gavin tried his best to be one, to force himself to functionality. It would be remarkable hadn’t it been his friend and partner wrecking himself in front of him.

‘We did what we could’, he tried to soothe the man as he stood up and shakily walked over to the android. ‘We’ll get him the next time.’ ‘We won’t’, Gavin shook his head weakly. ‘He wants to wear us down. And phck me is he succeeding.’ ‘Gavin. Trust me. We’ll get him next time. You need sleep. Me too. Come on.’ ‘’M coming, toaster.’

Nines guided the human to the old, now unused android booths and stepped into the one he had taken for himself to charge and go into stasis the minimum time required. Gavin had brought a mattress, blanket and a pillow with him the next day they found out this was a serial killer and they wouldn’t have any time to lose to driving home. Gavin remembered to kick off his shoes, before falling into his makeshift bed as he stood. ‘Night tin-can.’ ‘Good night, Gavin.’

‘Come on! We got it! Wake up!’ Gavin groaned at the loud screams that echoed through the precinct, neither team bothering to waste time by walking over. Nines immediately stepped out of the booth and got to work, downloading all evidence the others had gathered. The human took a bit longer, prying open his eyes and putting on his shoes as he was filled in by someone.

Nines only allowed himself one look over to his partner as he fell into his seat, a coffee already prepared and standing next to a dozen empty mugs and takeaway cups. Then he already raced through the networks again searching for anything related to calligraphy pens. They had eight hours.

[Remaining time: 00:00:00] [Victim died.] ‚Goddamnit, Phck!‘ Gavin was more aggravated as before. ‘We nearly had him! We already had the damn paper-shop, how long of a drive would it have been?’ ‘Twenty-three minutes.’ ‘Twenty-three phcking minutes. They could have been saved. Phck. A few piss-breaks less from me and we could have had it!’ ‘Gavin. Calm down. You are right. We nearly had him. We are getting better. Next time we’ll have him. Trust me. Now it’s time to sleep. We need every bit we can get.’

[Remaining time: 00:00:00] [Victim died.] This time they weren’t even close. Nines dearly needed a full stasis cycle. His calculations weren’t as accurate anymore, heaps of data had accumulated and were ready for deletion. He was no way close to a forced shutdown, but if this continued on, he would be. And Gavin looked worse with every day. He looked years older than he should be with deep rings under his eyes and shaking hands. He had fallen asleep several times at his desk already, the scarce sleep the man got finally taking its toll and overpowering the coffee. He didn’t complain. He didn’t talk about how hopeless their work was. He just stood up and shuffled his way to the bed. He was already asleep as Nines followed shortly. The android looked down on the human at his limits end. In a breeze of sympathy, he bowed down, pulled off the man’s shoes and covered him with the blanket, before he stepped into his own booth.

[Remaining time: 00:38:16] Nines worked away relentlessly. This had to stop. They both would work themselves to death if this continued only one more day. Baseball. 11pm. Not the slither of an idea. His thoughts were interrupted by sudden silence opposite to him. Had Gavin fallen asleep again? He needed him now. These last minutes he could stay awake but- Gavin was awake. Wide awake. And staring at his screen. ‘I got him…’, he mumbled, then louder: ‘I got him!’ He jumped from his chair in excitement, screaming once again: ‘I got him!’, before crashing to the ground hard.

Nines immediately was by his side, checking his pulse, then looking up to the screen. He identified the location instantly and sent it to Connor and Hank. ‘Get a car and drive fast!’, he screamed out to them. [Remaining time: 00:36:02] The drive was fifteen minutes. They would make it.

The same was not to be said about his partner, who still laid unconsciously on the ground. He had pulse and was breathing; his temperature was alright. He should be okay. ‘Chris. You know what this is?’ But the other human standing next to him just shook his head. ‘Sorry. No idea. I’ll call an ambulance.’ ‘No!’ That was Tina. ‘I know what’s up. Big guy. To his car!’ Nines lifted Gavin from the ground and followed Tina. ‘He will be alright, Nines. Take him home. Here are his keys. Lay him on the couch and start cooking him something. He will wake up then. But no word to anyone and now go!’

Nines knew better than to argue with Tina, also the human knew Gavin longer than he did. He trusted her to know what was going on. He sat down in the car and it felt weird as he grabbed the wheel. He had never driven Gavin’s car. He had only ever been his passenger. He brought the man home, relaxing more and more since Connor’s message had come in. He had been there on time, saved the victim from certain death and apprehended the criminal. They were on their way back to the precinct now and Nines knew they could handle it. They had time.

Gavin awoke to the blissful scent of onions and garlic sizzling in a pan. Whatever else was being cooked was drowned out by it and immediately the man felt his stomach cramp in pain. He let out a groan and was immediately caught by the cook: ‘So you finally woke up.’ ‘Mmyeah’, he mumbled and looked around. Wait. This was home. But that voice was Nines. Somewhere had to be a connection but Gavin couldn’t find it. ‘What happened?’ ‘Your dumbass decided to pass out after you solved the case.’ ‘I did?’ ‘Yes. Connor and Hank got them. The victim is safe, the criminal is locked up at the precinct.’ ‘That’s… so good to hear.’ He struggled to get up, only to be stopped by a not so gentle hand on his chest. ‘Don’t.’ It was nearly a threat and Gavin looked up to these blue eyes. ‘Stay down. Your circulatory systems wouldn’t take that yet.’ ‘What?’ ‘I don’t want you to pass out again, I just cooked.’ ‘Oh.’

Gavin sank back down into the pillows and watched Nines going back into the kitchen. How the hell had they gotten into- oh. Right. Tina. He would never let her look after the cats for him again. The android came back with a steaming plate of mashed potatoes, eggs and bacon, waiting for Gavin to give him enough space to sit down too. The human already reached for the plate, starved beyond reason, but Nines pulled it out of reach, looking at him harshly. ‘Why didn’t you eat?’ ‘What? Come on, I’m starving over here!’ ‘I know. You passed out in front of me. I’m only letting you eat if you tell me why you did it and promise me, you’ll never do it again!’ ‘Okay, yes, I promise! Goddamnit, let me phcking eat!’

Nines handed him the plate, watching him as he greedily gulped it down. ‘Slow down, Gavin. Your body won’t take that much so sudden.’ Surprisingly, the human listened and started talking between the bites: ‘It keeps me focussed. The pain… it grounds me. And the hunger creates urgency, so I don’t slack on the job.’ ‘That are terrible coping measures’, Nines judged, and Gavin nodded, chewing. ‘Hmm-hmm. I no dat.’ He swallowed and continued: ‘I know that it’s not healthy and I’m a total shit for falling back into it… Having a partner helped me get out of it, because I knew you wouldn’t tolerate such bullshit. But this last case it… It is proven I am more productive when starving myself!’ ‘That’s no excuse, Gavin.’ Nines did his best to sound worried and it wasn’t too difficult. He actually was. ‘I got too caught up in the case, too. I should have noticed. Please, don’t ever do that again. I know we should have asked for help with this thing.’ ‘You are right with that.’ Gavin yawned long and thoroughly. ‘Both to stubborn to admit defeat.’ ‘Promise me, you do it now?’, Nines asked, looking the man in the eye. ‘I’ll never do it again. I swear by your goddamn thirium pump.’

Nines sighed at that and allowed himself to sink back into the couch. His partner was fed and getting better. Gavin was safe. They both had finally time. He decided to message Fowler they both would take time off for at least the next few days, then he allowed himself to disconnect from everything, just being himself sitting here with Gavin. Finally, being able to relax. Gavin was finished with the plate and sat it down next to the couch before cuddling deeper into a blanket, closing his eyes. Soon the human was asleep and Nines entered stasis next to him.

Leberkäse – a type of meat loaf popular in Germany and Austria

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #Gavin Reed #RK900 #honestly this story is a big mood for me currently cutting back on sleep and down-time #But more importantly I was at my peak German again writing Nines cooking Leberkäse and then searching for the translation #Leberkäse – a type of meat loaf popular in Germany and Austria #well pch you too I guess. What do ze Americas eat? Bacon #Sorry I just thought that was funny no hate on anything here I LOVE bacon

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softjeon · 6 years ago

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Love Bite | Final

• Pairing: Vampire!Namjoon x Jimin • Genre: Angst / Smut | Vampire!AU ( → Gifset Trailer) • Words: 15k | Co-Writer: Cat @cassiavioletblue | AO3 • Disclaimer: blood, abuse, (sexual) violence, mindcontrol, mentioning of death

↳ “You’re right. I was lying. I didn’t want to scare you. But I guess there’s not much to do now, right? I’ll tell you the truth,” Namjoon spoke softly, the grip around Jimin’s wrists loosened a little but not enough to free himself, “…because you deserve it, because I pull you into a lot of shit right now just by being here. I am a vampire, Jimin.”

« previous chapter | masterlist | Character Sheet

Jimin sat in the copy room, sipping on a cup of a coffee while he was working through a few documents. He had been ignoring Namjoon all morning, not talking much to him but the necessary. Jimin was still hurt from last night. With another angry push he stabled two papers together, proceeding to the next one until...

“Ah!“ Jimin hissed in pain, looking down at his finger. How the hell had he managed to get the metal clips into his finger. Very carefully he pulled it out and instinctively put the little wound to his mouth to keep from bleeding... or alarming Namjoon if the smell would reach him. He succeeded with that but instead he had brought another vampire on him.

Yoongi, who had hidden in the copy room all morning - the room where Jimin was angrily stapling Photocopies together at the moment - made himself known by downright laughing at him. “What exactly are you doing there? To think that this is what you’re getting paid for… Namjoon must really love you if he keeps you around while you can’t even handle a simple stapler without hurting yourself. Don’t use the coffee machine please or you might get yourself killed,” He teased him without holding back. “I wish,“ Jimin hummed in response, staring at the wound on his finger to see if it still was bleeding. “You...wish?” Yoongi looked at him questioningly - however Jimin’s next question made it quite clear what this was about.

“Yoongi?“ The younger looked up at the vampire, not even caring that he'd been teasing him. “Just hypothetically...if you would have fallen in love with Taehyung as a human...and he would have asked you to turn him, to be with you...would you have done it?“ He tried to be subtle, but at the way Yoongi sighed and pulled in a chair to sit down next to him, Jimin was sure that Yoongi knew. Maybe Namjoon had told his friend about his crazy idea already? What if Yoongi felt the same way?

“You asked Namjoon to turn you, right? And he said no?” When Jimin confirmed he continued. “You didn’t exactly ask the right person for this. I don’t half have as much qualms about this as Namjoon. But we are from different decades, we drink blood differently and - we also got turned in different ways. I don’t think you talked to Namjoon in detail about how it happens? How one is supposed to be turned? You might have seen it with Taehyung or… how I reacted to him. The way I would have protected him from practically everything and everyone the few hours after I turned him. It’s something instinctual. Like feeding. And the newborn very much needs it, someone who’s there, who tells him what happens, that how he feels is okay and that it will get better. Someone who shows him how to feed, how to live again. It’s quite the change. But sometimes… sometimes it goes wrong. And Namjoon… he was left alone after he had been turned. Some go insane after being turned, even with someone to guide them by their sides. Namjoon had no one. And he honestly wasn’t far from madness when I met him. There was barely anything left of his humanity. I think… don’t tell him I said that, but I think that’s the main reason why he holds onto his little rules so tightly. He’s afraid of becoming feral again. Even though there is no reason to. He made it through. But I guess he would rather starve then be like this again. And he would never ever risk to have you feel like he did back then. I know this is no excuse. But maybe you’ll understand his decision a little better now.”

Jimin was blinking at Yoongi. He hadn’t expected that. Namjoon had always seem so perfect to him.

“Y-you found him?” Jimin was stunned, trying to process what Yoongi just told him about how Namjoon got turned. Nonetheless, he had settled on his decision a while ago. “I understand, but Yoongi…,” Jimin sighed deeply, “This is my decision and I wouldn’t be alone. He would be there.” Jimin’s bottom lip was trembling as he tried to hold back the hurt. “I wouldn’t stand to know that he would leave me. I don’t want to be old and wrinkly,” Jimin tried to not show much it was affecting him, but his voice was starting to shake, “I have no one else but him and you guys. I would die alone. I am not sure if I believe in faith or anything alike but maybe I was never made for this life after all. There’s nothing I haven’t done in my human life, yet that I can’t do with being a vampire. I don’t want to be alone. I have suffered so much.” He wiped away a tear that fell from his cheek, avoiding Yoongi’s gaze, “I will forever be a target, won’t I? With being human...I am nothing but that. If Namjoon can’t do it,...then...I...can ask someone else. Taehyung….You...or Hoseok!”

“For the love of all that is holy to you humans, please don’t ask Hoseok. After all he’s done to you, you don’t want to get yourself into a position where you are totally at his mercy. Remember how you felt for your family? That’s how you would feel for him. Just… amplified, as if you were a child again and Hoseok is showing you the world through his eyes. Believe me you don’t want this as Namjoon’s companion. And Tae… he’s not ready for that yet. He might accidentally kill you and never get over it. I don’t want that either. So, if you are really that desperate and you really don’t see any other options in this then - before you go to Hoseok or Tae - I’ll do it. But I will choose your cause of death. And do me a favor. Bevor you actually go through with it - tell Namjoon. Give him a chance to bid his farewell to your humanity. Or maybe even to change his mind. He will be hurt if you let me turn you without him having a say in this.”

Jimin bit his lip in thought. Yoongi was right, he didn’t want to be at Hoseok’s mercy again. With Yoongi he would be fine. With a smile, he nodded, jumping up from where he sat and embraced the vampire in a hug. “Thank you,” The human said repeatedly, jumping in excitement. He took the stapled files and got up to proceed to work, when he suddenly came to a halt. A light bulb lit up in his mind and Jimin grinned, when an idea popped into his head how he could maybe persuade Namjoon into turning him, nonetheless.

Walking into Namjoon’s office, Jimin greeted his boyfriend with a smile and placed the papers onto his desk, before walking around it. “Don’t mind the bit of blood on one of the copies. I stapled my finger,” Jimin said nonchalantly and got up on his boyfriends lap without further explaining and turned to kiss him. Heatedly and deep, mumbling a quiet ‘sorry’ in between for being so whiny.

To say Namjoon was surprised would have been an understatement. Jimin had gotten from not talking to him and ignoring him to sitting in his lap and kissing the breath right out of him. Furthermore, the staple incident left him confused. He wouldn’t mind to get a lick of that little wound and with it a taste of Jimin’s blood, but his mouth was absolutely occupied right now. And with the way Jimin was plundering his mouth he didn’t seem to plan on letting him breathe or use his mouth anytime soon.

“Just...wanted...to...say,” Jimin was accentuating every word with a kiss,” That...I love you.” He pulled off his boyfriend, turning his attention back onto the desk as he leaned over a little, reaching for Namjoon’s organizer. “Also, I came to work,” Jimin said, but kept in front of Namjoon, leaned over and butt in perfect view while he was simply opening the leather book and start writing down notes from calls and a few new dates for meetings. He was hoping to keep Namjoon occupied with the view he was presenting to write down a certain type of meeting. One that would require all of his attention. With him. But that Namjoon didn’t know. Jimin smirked. He needed a few days to prepare it all, but outsmarting Namjoon would be the only way to make him listen to the younger. He didn’t want them to end up fighting again. And if that meant, writing a thought out name as a bait into Namjoon’s personal organizer then so be it.

“Hm? That’s… Thank you. I love you too.” The vampire was still a little confused, but he certainly wasn’t complaining. Also, he had to use all his self-control to not reach out and cup Jimin’s ass that was presented to him in all its plump, deliciously firm glory. He wasn’t so sure if Jimin was really over his ‘please turn me into a vampire’ idea but he sure as hell wouldn’t address this topic on his own so as long as Jimin didn’t want to talk about it either he would happily pretend that they had never spoken about this at all. “I’m not sure I’ll get a lot of work done if you continue to ‘help’ me in the office like this - but I guess that’s what afterhours are for.”

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to do after hours, huh?” Jimin arched his back beautifully and turned around to lean against the desk. “I am sorry to disappoint you Mr. Kim but I have to get my work done or else my boss might punish me for overworking myself.” He giggled softly and before the vampire could come closer, he kissed his neck (because Namjoon was way too tall to kiss his nose softly) and turned around with a swing in his hips. “I wrote down your new meetings for this week,” Jimin called out, “Don’t come too late tonight. It’s always so cold waiting alone and naked in bed.” He made a show of pursing his lips, shivering slightly. “You aren’t, I meant me, because when you distract me like this I’ll have to work more afterwards to catch up with what I missed while I was busy fantasizing about you,” He clarified and then just wordlessly blinked at Jimin who did his best at making sure he was absolutely, truly distracted from work. Kissing, teasing, making a show - and then more or less a promise of naked cuddles tonight? Fighting with Jimin wasn’t so bad if it meant he got this kind of attention and flirting from the younger half a day later. Winking teasingly, Jimin waved happily and returned to his desk. But there was something else than work on his mind. He needed to prepare a meeting.

Jimin had gone early, working on his project from home eagerly. Only Taehyung and Yoongi knew about what he was doing. He was cautious to not get caught by Namjoon that could find his preparations and had access to all of his documents at work. At home however, Namjoon respected Jimin’s privacy as always so it was easy to hide things from him. Jimin had a plan of gathering every information that he could about being turned into a vampire, calling Yoongi and Taehyung over to help him. He wanted to be prepared and show Namjoon that he knew what he was getting himself into. Just before Namjoon would come home, Jimin pushed the new folder with all the information he could find about vampires deep into his underwear drawer and proceeded to get ready for the night. Jimin crawled onto the bed, loving the feel of the silky sheets against his naked skin when he laid down. Part two of his plan (maybe not that necessary but Jimin loved the fun aspect of it), was to distract Namjoon as much as he could and what better and more fun way to do it like this.

Namjoon had finished his work schedule on time but it still meant that he would get home two hours later than Jimin and as the younger had left work earlier it had been even longer since the human had walked through his office like the perfect distraction. When Namjoon turned the key, it was silent and he wondered if Jimin was reading or still working (sometimes he brought work home and Namjoon hated it because he felt like their home should be a stress-free zone) - or if he really waited like he had hinted at earlier, sleepy and naked and ready for Namjoon to devour. He found out only seconds later when he walked into the bedroom, seeing Jimin on his stomach, a book on the floor right next to the bed, his arm hanging loosely from the edge. A sigh fell from the human’s lips as he pulled his hand closer again, obviously asleep. The blanket was only halfheartedly draped over his body, hiding only bits and pieces but revealing Jimin’s naked butt just like Namjoon loved it. If it was on purpose or not Namjoon couldn’t tell, but Jimin had been waiting for him just like he had promised.

Carefully he slid into bed, pulling the cover over them both - except for Jimin’s behind. He massaged the firm flesh gently, worrying that the younger might have gotten cold but he was sleep-warm all over, so Namjoon could indulge himself in groping Jimin without having to think about Jimin’s health. His hand wandered lower, just a little in between his cheeks, teasing Jimin’s entrance while he already thought about how he should take him. A soft moan fell from Jimin’s lips, as he could feel the tingling sensation down his spine, but it didn’t wake him. Instead it fitted perfectly into his dream, imagining his ‘forever’ life with Namjoon while he was moving his bottom to get rid of the tension that was starting to form in the pit of his stomach. He pulled the cushion a little closer, mumbling something inaudible as he shifted closer to Namjoon on instinct.

The positive reaction spurred Namjoon and so he slowly, carefully pushed Jimin’s thighs a little further apart. they had talked about this, how Namjoon had explicit permission to touch Jimin in whichever way he wanted while the other was asleep (after Namjoon had freaked out while he had unconsciously almost bit Jimin in his sleepy morning state, not realizing that Jimin was even further gone than him). It had felt strange to touch Jimin in such a vulnerable state but after he had realized that Jimin thoroughly enjoyed it he had found that he liked it just as much, knowing that even in his most honest and unconscious state Jimin trusted and wanted him so much that he could get aroused without even really waking from it.

Jimin moaned softly into the cushion when Namjoon prepared him, careful and soft, leaving a few kisses on Jimin’s spine. It was making the younger shiver, goosebumps appearing on his skin. He smiled in his sleep, moving his butt to get more of whatever was making him feel so good. In his dreams, Namjoon was over him, telling him how much he loved him, their bodies intertwining and Jimin’s body was reacted to every bit of imaginary in his head. It mixed blissfully with the soft touches of Namjoon’s hands, the feel of the stretch that made him whimper in his sleep. The soft whispered ‘I love you’s’ weren’t so much a dream as what the vampire was whispering in Jimin’s skin in between kisses. He had kissed the younger’s body all over, from his neck to right above his lower back where he stopped to teasingly bite into the plump flesh of his ass. “If you don’t wake up soon I’m going to take you like this, all soft and pliant and willing.” His voice had become gravelly because although he wasn’t fully hard yet his hunger for Jimin’s blood had awoken and with it the desire to just take.

The bite was what made Jimin blink his eyes tiredly, but before he could mumble something to Namjoon, the vampire manhandled him easily, pulling his back against his body. It was easy to move Jimin like this, hooking his leg over his own to make Jimin spread open for him. He had no time to react, when he could feel Namjoon’s fingers stretching him out and Jimin moaned loudly. He could barely keep his eyes open, in a state between dream and awake, while Namjoon was handling his body however he wanted. “M’ you took s’ long,” Jimin slurred a little, smiling at the sweet sensation of Namjoon working him up. “You sure? I didn’t prep you longer than usual,” Namjoon deliberately misunderstood Jimin’s comment to make the younger pout so he could kiss the pout right off of his face. “You’re so cute like this, all sleepy and heated and willing to go with whatever I want from you. I hope you know that there will be no whining allowed in case you can’t sit later. You brought this upon yourself with prancing around the office like that and riling me up. One could think you really wanted my cock tonight…”

“I always want y-,” Jimin’s words got cut when Namjoon pushed into him hard. His eyes closed, head fallen back – the perfect position for the vampire to take. He loved this position, holding Jimin tight to his body, thrusting into him deeply while he could easily bite into his neck giving the human no chance to escape his grip. His vampire instinct hummed in satisfaction each time. Jimin just let Namjoon take from him, feeling high off the poison in his body and the pleasure that came with it. He was shaking from it, holding onto the vampire to give himself some kind of leverage. As much as he enjoyed it to make sweet, sweet love to Jimin when the other was feeling like he needed gentle reassuring as much did he like to let go when he was truly hungry. Jimin took him so well, even when he was rough and passionate and more hungry desire than softness. He bit blooming bruises into his neck and sighed at the taste of Jimin’s blood, heady and sweet, with a certain tinge to it that was simply and inexplicably ‘Jimin’. Greedily he lapped it up, all of it, while fucking the younger six ways to heaven.

…

Jimin could still feel the bruises on his hips from it days after. He loved it. Sometimes it let him daydream again and Jimin had to snap himself back into reality. Pulling at the collar of his dress shirt in a nervous habit, Jimin was staring at the clock, each ‘tic’ making his heart jump a little.

Jimin had prepared to confront Namjoon one last time. He had gathered every bit of information that he needed to persuade his vampire boyfriend to bite him and turn him. Biting his lip, he was only worrying about one thing. Namjoon’s rejection. Of course, he had Yoongi, who had offered to turn him but what if he was angering Namjoon a lot more than he thought he could. What if he would leave him? Decide not to be with him, despite being turned then. He gulped heavily, trying to push down every negative thought.

Taehyung was singing to himself quietly while he was preparing the meeting in Namjoon’s office. He could hear Jimin’s nervous heartbeat all the way to where he was standing. So, when Namjoon came into his office, he instantly threw his hands up, greeting the other rather loudly.

Namjoon was a tiny little bit overwhelmed by this enthusiastic greeting, flattening his tie after to make sure he was still business ready. “What are you doing here, Tae? I don’t think you’d be interested in what the “society of water cleanliness” has to say about new standards for business plumbing in future company buildings, would you?” He looked at the carefully prepared table. “Thank you for getting everything ready for the meeting though. Is Jimin on his lunch break?”

“Yeah, kind of…late lunch and stuff. You know…humans and their food, right?” Taehyung giggled and turned to walk out of the room, but not before pointing at his desk. “Don’t touch the folder with the offering in front of you until the customer says so. He wants you to keep an open mind,” Taehyung pointed two fingers at his eyes and then back to Namjoon, making sure he would know that he was watching him – but only left his boss confused and worried about Tae’s sudden weird behavior.

On the outside, Jimin was waiting for Tae to get back to him, giving him a last reassuring pat on his bottom, making him squeal. The human took a deep breath, before he finally knocked on the door, waiting for Namjoon’s approval to come in.

“Humans… food... right.” Namjoon furrowed his brows and reached out for the folder - then he hesitated and withdrew his hand. As silly as it might be to follow Taehyung’s seemingly crazy command the younger must have had a reason to say so after all. He would be able to wait a few more minute. His business partners should be here soon anyway. Outside the door he hear someone squeal and if Taehyung hadn’t told him that Jimin was on his break he could have sworn that it was Jimin. Then there was a knock on the door, and he concentrated on being all serious and business prepared - until Jimin was opening the door. “Ah, Minnie, this is not a good time right now. I’m having a meeting right now. What is it - can Taehyung help you with it maybe? He just went out the door.”

Jimin loved the nickname, smiling at Namjoon lovingly. His nervousness was gone for a second and only came back when he answered, “I know that you do. You’re having the meeting with me.” Trying to be confident, the human walked up to the tv, pushing his stick into the usb driver. “Before you say something, I would ask of you to just listen for a moment, please,” Jimin gazed at Namjoon with shiny eyes, his hands nervously holding onto the sheets he had prepared. His heart was beating so fast and loud that Namjoon was able to hear it perfectly. He cleared his throat, walking over to the light switch and turned off the light. The presentation on the tv screen was the only thing illuminating the scene.

Namjoon had opened his mouth to tell Jimin that if he wanted time with him he didn’t need to schedule fake meetings and what the folders were about but closed it immediately when he realized that this wasn’t about ‘spending time with him’.

“First of all, you should know that I love you,” Jimin’s voice broke a little and the younger cursed himself inwardly for feeling so emotional already. It wasn’t helping that he felt so anxious about Namjoon’s reaction. “I never have loved anyone as much as I love you and I trust you. Therefore, it is not my intention to anger you or make you feel frustrated with me,” He paused before clicking onto the next page showing a drawn picture of himself with vampire teeth. “Tae made this…,” Jimin chuckled softly, hoping to ease the tension a little, “I’ll just get right into this, okay? ….Here are a few reasons why you should turn me into a vampire.”

The vampire stiffened when he heard what Jimin had chosen to talk about and yet he didn’t interrupt him. The younger had apparently put a lot of thought in this so the least he could do was let him show whatever it was he had prepared.

The more Jimin was talking, the more confident he felt. He had showed Namjoon his family tree, told him about his childhood, the experiences he had made and that he wouldn’t miss out on something being a vampire. Then Jimin put up a picture of himself that slowly faded into an older version of himself until he was old and wrinkly looking, making the younger look at it with disgust. Nonetheless he kept going, stating facts and showing off what he had learned about being turned, repeating everything that the other vampires had told him. “I could protect myself then and… have better stamina,” Jimin shrugged his shoulders, trying to keep from smiling adding a quiet, “I wouldn’t pass out every time you go all out on me then.” Even in the dark, Jimin could see a smirk pulling at Namjoon’s lips and even though it quickly returned to his focused, hard gaze, he felt a little more confident.

“And you don’t have to be afraid of me going crazy,” Jimin hastily said, “Hoseok told me that it is very rare for newborns to go mad if they willingly made the choice and prepared themselves for the turn. I asked him if I could be turned in the mansion as well, as I learned that the less attraction there is the easier, I could get used to it all. I would be far away from the city. Not much humans around and a lot more vampires that could help.” He looked at Namjoon pleadingly, worrying his bottom lip when he turned to the next page.

“You talked to…” He broke off when Jimin hastily clicked onto the pointer, apparently scared that Namjoon wouldn’t let him finish his presentation if he would stop now. Nonetheless the thought of Jimin going to Hoseok of all people to talk about this didn’t sit well with him.

“There are also reasons why you shouldn’t turn me…,” Jimin said, his voice starting to shake when he clicked the button to make the text appear on the empty page, “First: You can’t drink my blood anymore. It would change, and you can’t feed off other vampires and I know you love the taste of my blood. And second and last: You don’t want me around forever.” Jimin couldn’t help but tear up when the last words fell from his lips, his heart pounding hard and aching with every second it took for Namjoon to say something.

“Scratch that last point off your list. You know that this is not true. And if you don’t then I’d like to remind you how many times I’ve told you that I loved you. And that you are my companion not some casual affair.” Namjoons voice was stern, almost cold. “You did miss a few points on your list though. You remember when I told you about how you would have to stay nourished? No more tasty food. No ice cream, no birthday cakes, nothing. Instead the choice between disgustingness or cruelty. Oh, and how about depression? I haven’t told you about vampires who end up killing themselves because nothing seems important when facing eternity and after a few hundred years you can feel really detached from people’s life, so they chose to end their lives. Or what if you fall out of love, hm? How long has your longest relationship been so far. Tell me please. And then tell me you know what you’re talking about when you promise me forever. There are the vampire hunters, the sensitivity towards sun, the difficulties that will come your way you are… you are so fucking young Jimin! And of course, Hoseok would advise you to let yourself be turned. He hates the thought of conscious human who know about us. It would rid him of a ‘problem’ if you would be one of ours.”

Jimin averted his gaze, when Namjoon was scolding him so bluntly but he took it, waiting and listening to his arguments. “But do you really think that would be me? Killing myself like that? I would have you, Tae and Yoongi. I wouldn’t feel alone with you,” Jimin tried to argue against Namjoon, but his voice was shaking, and he felt like losing this already. The tears were burning in his eyes, making it harder for him to see in front of him. “This…this is not about Hoseok or it being his decision. It is mine,” Jimin was almost shouting out of desperation, “I love you. Have never loved anyone else the way I love you.” He wiped over his eyes, laughing at himself quietly. “It was dumb to think that you could change your mind.” With teary eyes, Jimin pointed at the folder in front of Namjoon, “Open it. It’s my last offer.”

Namjoon opened the folder and found a piece of paper in it, no presentation, just a little bit of writing that told him that he could turn him with all the precautions and safety rules Jimin wanted to put up - or he would let Yoongi turn him. “Yoongi?” Namjoon laughed, humorless and bitter. “Did you ask him? Did you actually ask Yoongi if he would turn you behind my back? Why do you want to die so badly Jimin? You can’t just… you can’t just throw your life away like that!” Namjoon’s eyes were just as teary as Jimin when he jumped up, slapping his hand down on the table so hard it sounded as if a tree had just snapped in half. “I didn’t want to do it behind your back that’s why I’m telling you now that…,” Jimin had jerked violently from the slap, as if it ripped right through him.

“There is no way I will let him do that to you, you hear me? No way!” Then he stormed out, leaving the folder and presentation and Jimin behind.

Jimin sunk down onto his knees, when Namjoon was gone so fast leaving him confused and alone. The sobs broke through him, shuddering him and making him want to curl up right on the floor. He only noticed for how long he was frozen in his state, when the lights in the building switched off. He didn’t want to go home, too scared of facing an angry Namjoon again - but what choices did he have? So, Jimin took his jacket, wiping his tears away with the hem of his shirt and started walking all the way home.

…

Yoongi had his eyes closed, Taehyung curled up against him, while the older vampire was mindlessly caressing through his hair. He didn’t even blink an eye when he could hear Namjoon storming into the mansion from afar already. His angry growls and loud footsteps echoed throughout the whole building and Taehyung got up right away, mumbling something about not wanting to meet a furious Namjoon. Yoongi was still relaxed. He was only exhausted that he would need to play matchmaker again.

“Yoongi!” Namjoon came barging in, not caring about Taehyung who had sneaked out just in time. “I need to talk to you. Now!” As Yoongi didn’t seem to have any intentions to move into another position Namjoon just went on with it. “What the hell did you think when you told Jimin you would turn him? Are you out of your mind? Is one newborn not enough for you? Do you want to take him from me, is that what you want? If you have a problem with our relationship then tell me now and don’t try to influence Jimin by fucking killing him!”

Yoongi sat up a little, looking at Namjoon with confusion. “Taking Jimin away from you?” He huffed out, “You really think that is my intention? First of all, Jimin asked me for help and because I couldn’t let him go and ask Taehyung or even Hoseok…and yes, he said he would ask him, I’d say that I would do it,” He paused and raised a finger to make Namjoon listen to him, “Only if you would still refuse and it was still his wish after all. That is all I said.” He got up from the bed, walking over to the angry vampire. “What are you so scared of, Namjoon?”

Namjoon faltered, his anger deflating a little and instead settling for shock when Yoongi told him that Jimin had thought about going to Hoseok for his request. Still Yoongi’s nonchalance didn’t exactly help to calm him down. “What I’m scared of? Oh, let’s just think about for a second. Maybe I’m scared about Jimin dying in my arms because as you know not everyone survives the transformation. Or - wait - maybe I’m just scared of losing him to madness or the pressure it will put on him when he has to decide if he wants to hypnotize humans for their blood. Though maybe I’m just scared of him realizing it was a mistake and hating my for all eternity after. I bet every one of us knows at least one vampire who despaired from being immortal and destroyed himself, be it the slow and unobtrusive way or choosing the stake. And then there are so many other risk that I won’t even mention because if I’d list them we’d still be here tomorrow morning.“ Namjoon shook his head, “To me he is perfect as he are, Yoongi. Why can’t he see that? I don’t want to risk losing him just to give him something that might turn out to be his worst nightmare. I don’t want to kill him. Yoongi, I can’t kill him! I just can’t.”

Despite his own liking, Yoongi pulled Namjoon in and hold him tight in his embrace. “You won’t kill him. You wouldn’t let that happen,” He said quietly, soothing over his friends back before he pulled back a little, looking up at the taller one. “To him, being with you, is his deepest desire. His mind was filled with your presence way before you two were really a thing, remember?” Yoongi reassured his friend. “It is scary, so scary but it will be worth it. He is prepared. Jimin knows what he is doing, and that fact alone is helping immensely, and you know that.” Yoongi embraced Namjoon once more, pulling him in by his neck, “He won’t be alone. It will be different from your own experience, because he has you. One of the kindest, smartest and probably wisest vampires I’ve had the pleasure to call my friend. He has suffered enough.” Yoongi sighed deeply, when he gazed at his friend again. “It has to be you and you know it deep down, don’t you? You can’t bear the thought of being separate from him. Not now, tomorrow or ever in your eternal life.”

Namjoon had stiffened up when Yoongi had hugged him but the smaller had nipped his halfhearted attempts to get out of the embrace in the bud. “N... No, I can’t.. Yoongi, I can’t…,” His voice died out as Yoongi’s reassuring words washed over him. He hid his face at the youngers shoulder, trying not to get too close so that the silent tears that rolled down his face couldn’t drip on Yoongi’s skin. Just one mistake. One single mistake and Jimin would be gone. And it would be his fault.

“I am here for you. I will be right across the room, so you only need to call out. We could prepare it well. Go through it step by step,” Yoongi whispered, knowing that making plans and working out every logical possibility would make Namjoon feel safer, “And if you really can’t do it and it’s still Jimin’s desire then I will do it. But only with your permission.”

Namjoon felt awful. The logical part of his brain was reassured because everything Yoongi said made sense and seemed right though his fear of losing Jimin overwrite everything else. He could feel the sour taste of fear till right to his throat. Nonetheless and despite his inner turmoil he nodded. “Ok. You’ve won. I… I’ll do it. But please don’t tell Jimin yet. Let me sleep over it, just one night. If I can still life with taking that risk tomorrow I’ll tell him.” He disentangled himself from Yoongi, trying to wipe his face unobtrusively. “And next time you want to proof a point just tell me. Don’t let Jimin fake meetings and use power point presentations on me that contain Taehyung's scribbles. I can only take so much,” He added dryly.

“Sure thing,” Yoongi shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and yawned right after as if he hadn’t slept just a while ago, “But it wasn’t my idea with the presentation. Was all Jimin’s…Take your time, Namjoon. He will understand.” He waved Namjoon off, ushering him out of the room so he could happily fall into the bed again.

Namjoon followed his hint right away, grateful for the opportunity to have some alone time with his thoughts. He needed to think about this, really plan it through. When exactly would be the best time to do it, how should they do it best, did Jimin have a certain wish even though he hadn't talked about this in his presentation? Where exactly would be best; in the mansion for safety or at Jimin’s place for comfort - or something entirely else, like something wild, free and beautiful like watching a sunset at some lake. He had absolutely no idea! Maybe he should ask around, how others had done it or how the wished their own transformation had been.

…

Jimin came back to their apartment late, the moon on full display as he turned the key in the lock. He hadn’t expected Namjoon to be home, still his heart ached painfully when it was quiet in the apartment, they called their own. Jimin’s thoughts had been spiraling the past hour on his way home, thinking about Namjoon wanting to break up, being even more angry at him or him just ignoring the younger. All of it he couldn’t take. His eyes were red and puffy, when he prepared himself a tea in the kitchen, bringing it back into the living room with him. Jimin wanted to wait for Namjoon, listen to him, apologize and hope that he’d forgive him for being so selfish. But he just couldn’t stand the thought of being without Namjoon anymore. He leaned his head onto his hand, staring out into the night. The longer it took for the vampire to come home, the harder it got for Jimin to keep his eyes open. He rubbed them tiredly, his eyes burning from the tears and tiredness. He was fighting it, but in the end he lost it, falling asleep on the floor, with his head on his arms on the marble coffee table in the middle of the living room.

It was exactly how Namjoon found him when he finally came back home, the first soft sun rays peeking through the clouds. He looked at him, at all of which made Jimin human; his regular heartbeat, his rosy cheeks, his sleep warm body. The way he curled in on himself, so vulnerable yet so strong. Carefully he picked the younger up with ease, not sure if he was getting used to Jimin’s weight or if the younger was becoming lighter. So, he made a mental note to make sure Jimin was eating properly. He put him to bed right when the alarm clock was about to ring and Namjoon quickly stopped it from ringing Jimin awake. “I guess we should better give u a day off,” He murmured before gently kissing the younger’s temple before retreating back into the living room.

When Jimin woke again it was way past midday and he hastily jumped up from the bed, seeing stars for a second. He shook his head, trying to fight the sudden dizziness as he held onto the frame of the bed. When his gaze fell onto the empty bedside his heart sunk once more. There had been no sign of Namjoon lying next to him…but wait. Jimin couldn’t find a memory on how he had gotten into bed last night either, so it could only mean Namjoon was home. “Babe?” Jimin called for the other right away.

There was no answer, just a note on the kitchen table, together with a thermos bottle of coffee and a plate prepared with breakfast.

I’m at work. You looked exhausted so I let you sleep and gave you the day off. Stay home please and rest. We will talk tonight again about what you asked of me.

Love, Namjoon.

Jimin wasn’t sure how to interpret it, reading the lines over and over again. Was it something good? Something bad? Would he get scolded again or did Namjoon make up his mind? Either way, he happily took what Namjoon had prepared and munched on the food. It was a bit more than he could eat, so Jimin put the rest back into the fridge and took the coffee back to the couch with him. Cuddling up into a blanket he simply stayed there all day, only getting up to do the necessary around the apartment. He tried to keep himself and his mind occupied to keep from thinking about Namjoon’s possible meaning behind the text, but still couldn’t help himself analyzing the note with Taehyung via text. The later it got, the more nervous Jimin was again, his eyes going back and forth between the main door and the tv, zapping through the program at the same time.

If he was really honest with himself, then Namjoon started to stall a little bit when the end of his workday came in sight. As long as he wasn’t home he didn’t have to tell Jimin that he’d do it and before he had told him that he’d turn him he didn’t have to think about what it would be like to have Jimin dying in front of him. Still there was nothing else on his mind than this; how he could possibly live through seeing Jimin die - and knowing that he was the cause of it.

When he finally came back home, Jimin’s heart skipped a beat, his hands shaking. He hadn’t seen Namjoon in more than twenty-four hours and the tension between them was killing Jimin. So, he got up, quickly, trying to entangle himself from the blanket he had curled up in, but only made himself trip a little. Namjoon was there in a rush, holding him up and on his feet like he always did when the younger was having his clumsy streak again (unlike the vampire, who was only destroying things while being clumsy, Jimin mostly stumbled or just fell off chairs when his mind was occupied with something else). “Namjoon, I… I am so sorry,” Jimin hastily said as he reached out for his boyfriend, holding onto him tightly, “I didn’t want to anger you. I was so scared.”

“Scared? Scared of what?” Namjoon’s eyes looked tired as if he had fought endless wars in his mind today - and he had. All the parts that wanted to fulfill Jimin’s wish, that were able to honor his decision and his free will had been fighting against the fear, the memories of his past, his pessimistic side. It was exhausting. He just wanted to get it over with, tell Jimin that he would do it so that there was no more fighting in his head to do. If he told Jimin that his answer was yes there would be no turning back. Whenever he gave his word he stuck to it.

“That you would hate me. Leave me. I don’t know,” Jimin held onto Namjoon’s shirt, looking up at him worriedly. Reaching out for his cheek, he caressed him softly, soothing over his skin. “You look tired and I know it’s my fault,” He said quietly, the guilt eating his way up, making it harder for him to breathe. “I shouldn’t have brought it upon you. I was selfish and an idiot,” Jimin nuzzled his face against Namjoon’s neck in a weak attempt to hide the fact that he was tearing up again. “I just want to be with you. That’s all I want. I don’t care anymore,” The last words were a lie. He still cared about being with Namjoon forever, but if one meant losing him, Jimin didn’t even want to think about other options.

It was tempting, to just let Jimin believe that this was it and there would be no more discussions, to keep Jimin with him, alive and so utterly, beautifully human. Though it wasn't fair to him. This was obviously so important to him that he had asked others to turn him if Namjoon wouldn’t, going so far as to put his life in Hoseok’s hands. It would be best to just get it over with. Namjoon hesitated for one last second, breathing in Jimin’s sweet scent, something that would forever be lost to him as soon as his human body would be dead. With a last little kiss to his temple Namjoon took his face into his hand with a sad smile. “I’ll do it. If you want to be turned so badly then I don’t have any other choice in case I want to see you happy. Tell me how you want to die and… and I’ll make sure it won’t …you won’t be alone. I’ll walk you through it. I promised you eternity and if this is what you want then I’ll give it to you.”

Jimin stared at Namjoon in disbelief, his name a whispered breath fallen from his lips. He hugged the vampire tight, leaning his head onto Namjoon’s shoulder without saying a word. Instead he just held on tighter, his hands pulling Namjoon so close to him. They stayed like this what felt like an eternity already, before Jimin pulled off and Namjoon with him. “I love you,” Jimin whispered in a kiss, a sweet promise to him. “I trust you. Always have, always will,” He gazed into the vampire’s eyes, caressing his neck, his face, his beautiful, beautiful face that Jimin couldn’t wait to stare at forever. He placed soft kisses on his lips, leading the vampire into their shared bedroom. “Thank you,” Jimin whispered softly, his hands soothing over Namjoon’s chest.

“You won’t let me fall,” Jimin got onto the bed and on his knees to pull Namjoon close to the edge. His own breath hitched a little, when he unbuttoned Namjoon’s dress shirt, pushing it over his broad shoulders. He left a wet trail of kisses down the vampire’s neck to his chest. Neither could resist the passion between them, Namjoon felt the warm hungry desire flow from his body and the sweet, smooth rhythm of Jimin’s body as he moved, it was everything to him as his body reached deeper into his. He loved him. His heart ached with the love he felt for Jimin, how he gave himself over to him. They made love to each other all night, so slowly, so closely intertwined - being one. “You’re the most handsome man I’ve ever seen,” Jimin whispered, a moan slipping from his lips. Namjoon chuckled low, sliding against him, skin to skin, loving the feel of Jimin’s body against his own. Namjoon growled low, his arms slipped around him and held him to himself. He was willing to risk everything for him. Jimin belonged with him. Not even death could have him completely. He was his only. And he made love to him until they were both spent, lying in each other’s arms, heavy pants the only thing audible in the room.

“I...I want you to take from me,” Jimin spoke up after a while, making Namjoon open his eyes again, looking at him in confusion. “The way I want to die. My blood should be yours,” He mumbled, shifting closer to the vampire.

An involuntary little moan slipped from Namjoon’s lips. Drinking Jimin empty was like the greatest gift the human could give him. And although bleeding out normally wasn’t exactly a nice way to die it would be for Jimin as he would be practically filled with poison in the end. He wouldn’t suffer, he would be able to hold onto Namjoon the whole time and it might also make it easier for him to turn if there was already so much vampire poison in him.

“The bite it is then.” He carefully pushed some lose strands out of Jimin’s face to look at him. “I’m going to miss your warmth…,” He confessed, not really watching what he said because he had so overwhelmingly many emotions at once. He was grateful and touched and also a little sad and afraid and of course he longed for their eternity together, but he was also nervous about Jimin as a vampire would be. He would love him no matter what, that much was clear to him but still the other might change and it was just so many “what if’s” and “could be’s” in there that it made his head spinning just thinking about it. “Do you... do you have a special date that you want to choose for your last date as a human? Any special things you want to do before? I could take you out to your favorite restaurant. We could go somewhere with so many people that you get sick of them, that you long for a bit of peace and quiet. You won’t be able to be in crowds for quite a while after you’ve turned. It can be overwhelming, all the smell, the sounds, everything is amplified, and the hunger feels like it’s always present those first few weeks. But you’ll get through it. I know you will. Because I’ll never leave your site until you feel better, not even for a second.“

“No, I am fine. I never cared about crowds too much and you know I tend to forget to eat all the time anyways,” Jimin shrugged his shoulders, leaning his head on Namjoon’s chest, “We can still go out. I’d never say ‘no’ to a date with you. And we should do it whenever we feel ready. I want you to feel safe doing it, so let’s prepare it well and then decide on a date.” Gazing up at the one he called his love, Jimin smiled, “I know I will be okay.” Kissing Namjoon’s naked chest, he held onto him, closing his eyes and letting the exhaustion take over. He trusted Namjoon to be prepared and know what he was doing. He had absolutely no doubt about it going wrong in any way. Nonetheless, Jimin couldn’t hide the nervousness too well the closer the day was coming.

…

Namjoon was busy packing a suitcase with things for them to take to the mansion, while Jimin was nervously sipping on his tea. Jimin had let Namjoon decide the date and let the vampire prepare it all in the end, while he focused on his own stuff. Not freaking out for example. It was still scary to think that he would die and be turned into something new. But there was no doubt about his decision in his mind. Yoongi had been by Namjoon’s side the whole time, figuring out the best and safest way to turn Jimin and going through it step by step until he felt prepared enough.

Taehyung kept Jimin busy as long as the older vampires were talking, showing off to the human his new found ability. Every vampire had an ability that was different from their usual ones. Sometimes it was just a stronger version of the ones they had naturally, like Yoongi’s who’s mind-control ability had strengthen into a new one, where he could manipulate other people’s memories. Other times they were pretty rare like Namjoon’s. Only a few vampires in all of their history could shapeshift. And then there was Hoseok, who had the ability to use mind-control in a stronger, deeper and more cruel way than anyone else. He was the only vampire who could control the other minds of vampires as well. No one else was able to do that and no one really knew what else he was able to do. However, when Jimin saw Taehyung’s ability for the first time he was stunned, even if it was counted as an ordinary ability. Taehyung was fast. Very, very fast. He was so fast that everyone else was moving in slow motion for him. It was driving Yoongi nuts sometimes, when Tae used it to tease him again and only when the older growled, baring his teeth did he stop. For Jimin though, it was fun to play around with Taehyung in the garden of the mansion, while the older vampires were preparing his death. It took his mind off things for a while.

“3...2...1...Go!” Taehyung yelled and speed off, while Jimin ran, barely able to catch a breath from laughing so much. Tae had outstripped him easily and caught him by his waist, making Jimin squeal and giggle while the vampire was just running while he was propped over his shoulder. “Tae! Let me down!” He held onto Taehyung tightly even though he knew the vampire would never let him fall. It was a good precaution anyways, because only seconds later the young vampire came to a screeching halt right in front of his boyfriend and Namjoon. Jimin was still laughing and only when he recognized his upside-down boyfriend did he stop.

In the end Namjoon hadn’t chosen a certain date that had historical meaning as he had planned to but Jimin didn’t seem to mind at all. So, he had chosen the next full moon instead. He always liked the moons illuminating presence, it made him feel calmer, more ‘home’ as if the moon was shining all for him because he knew Namjoon couldn’t stare at the sun like that anymore, so he tried to be the vampire’s sun. He hoped it would give Jimin calm as well, something to focus on when the pain would get too much and holding him wouldn’t be enough. Namjoon had tried to think of everything, he had even taken chewing sticks with him, made of soft wood, something to bite onto in case Jimin would be cramping or if his fangs would show too soon and he would be at risk of biting his own tongue. He had bagged blood just in case, lavender and other nicely smelling, calming herbs that he wanted to decorate around the room while Jimin was turning so that the first thing he would smell when he would wake up wasn’t too much of what was going on in the next room but soft lavender instead. He also had blankets and cushions and an actual plushy to hold onto. It was a black bat about the size of a cat though he wasn’t sure if Jimin wouldn’t find it stupid, but he thought holding onto something might help. And even if Jimin ripped it in the process, this would be better than ripping his own skin.

Now they were standing there, the smile still on Jimin’s face while Namjoon looked worried, tense. He dreaded the moment he would actually have to do it and longed for it to be over at the same time. After it had been settled that Jimin would be turned and it was sure that he would lose his humanity one way or another Namjoon had dared to let himself think about a future with Jimin where they would be together for eternity. He had let himself dream of endless nights of walking in the moonlit streets together, going to the theatre, visiting so many museums, doing whatever they felt like because they had all the time in the world. It had made him happy to think about what they could be. Yet he was still scared, still rendered stiff and tense at the prospect of possibly losing Jimin right now and being the cause of it. He sighed deeply and shuddery before trying a smile, but it died on his face before it could fully show.

“It... it would be time now. It’s nighttime. The moon is showing. The room is prepared. We could…we could go there now. If you want.” He looked at Tae, taking in his smile, his confident posture, all this radiating happiness. Honestly Taehyung had been a massive help for him the past few nights just with being there. He was as young as Jimin, he’s had a similar life, the same job, the same friends and although he had died - and cruelly so - he was still happy. He had made it through, had built himself a life right away. He seemed comfortable, happy with who and what he was. And he was Jimin’s friend. So Jimin might have a chance to find the same happiness, to skip the horror and depression and the crippling loneliness Namjoon had felt when he had been reborn. Jimin would be safe and cared for and he was even doing it all willingly. There was nothing to worry about. It would be fine. Jimin would be fine. Namjoon relaxed a little though he couldn’t keep his eyes away from Jimin’s face for long. “Is there anything you would like to do before?”

Jimin nodded, reaching out for Namjoon’s hand to intertwine their hands. “Yeah, I’d like to take a shower first,” He said, hoping that it didn’t sound as stupid as he felt like it did, but running around with Taehyung made him quite sweaty and he wanted to feel good, feel fresh and ready to do this, even though he would get dirty afterwards again. He followed Namjoon quietly, peeking over his shoulder once in a while and seeing Taehyung with Yoongi. Just like the other vampire had promised, they would stay the night right next to their room just in case Namjoon needed him and though it made him feel safer, it also made Jimin a little scared about all the possibilities in which this could go wrong. In their room, Jimin went right for the bathroom to get himself ready. It was almost like a ritual to him. It calmed him. His heartbeat steady and just occasionally skipping a few beats because he was nervous. He dressed himself comfortably, but still wore one of his dress shirts, making him look like as if he was about to go out for dinner with Namjoon and not let the vampire kill him in a bit. When he finally stepped out of the room, Jimin stood in awe at the prepared room that he hadn’t paid close attention to before. “What...what is all this?” Jimin mumbled, a smile pulled at his lips when he reached for some flower arrangement.

Namjoon couldn’t decipher the mess of emotions in his chest when Jimin came out of the bathroom. He was dressed up and had a glint in his eyes that spoke about how much he was looking forward to it. He didn’t even look scared. Why wasn’t he scared, he was about to die, Namjoon would kill him now, oh god, he would have to kill him...

Namjoon tried to breathe against the feeling of choking up and coughed awkwardly to be able to answer Jimin as normal and calm as possible. The younger couldn’t see him freaking out. He needed to feel safe in this. Like everything was under control. “I tried to prepare this as best as I could so you can turn as easily as possible. You won’t realize most of what’s happening at first because everything will come at once, but I’ll make sure you can concentrate on each and every sensation without being overwhelmed. I asked Hoseok to clear this wing so there won’t be noises to hurt your ears. I plucked herbs and lavender to soothe your sense of smelling you won’t have to worry about. I got you blankets and cushion because you will feel cold and raw and like your nerves are aflame. I… I…” His voice trembled and then he hugged Jimin, held his body as close to him as possible, desperately holding onto the feeling of warmth and vulnerability and youth, everything that Jimin entailed. He could hear the others heartbeat and he almost cried with the knowledge that he would hear it stop in a little while. “You can still change your mind, no one would judge you, you can choose to stay alive Jimin. This is your last chance. If we do this I can’t stop in between, or you’ll die for good. This is it. This is your last way out if you want to stay human!” He kept his face buried in Jimin’s neck, the skin there so soft, so tender.

Jimin held Namjoon tight to him, kissing his cheek and just keeping him in his embrace. He didn’t say anything for a little while, knowing that this was a hard decision for Namjoon to make. When Namjoon gave him the last ultimatum, he pulled off a little. There were tears glistening in his eyes and he sniffled his nose a little, trying to keep it together but it suddenly felt too emotional.

“I love you, Namjoon. I want you, for now and forever,” Jimin whispered into a kiss. “I made my decision so long ago and I trust you.” He looked around the room again, his gaze wandering over the many things Namjoon had prepared, the little bat plushie (that reminded him awfully a lot about Namjoon) and even the flower arrangement that apparently Hoseok had sent for his ‘funeral’. It was perfect. Jimin felt safe. “I want to be a vampire,” He said at last and intertwined their hands to pull Namjoon towards the bed. The moon was illuminating the scene and Jimin had to reach out for his boyfriend. His skin glowing in the beautiful light. “I am…ready,” He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second to keep his heart from beating faster. He couldn’t push down his nervousness completely.

“Okay.” Namjoon nodded, his face turning determined. He had tried everything he could. If Jimin really wanted this - then so be it. He sat down next to Jimin, placing a hand onto his heart. “Do you want to keep on your shirt? It will get stains. Is that okay?” He couldn’t believe that he actually warned Jimin about a stained shirt when he was about to end his life but apparently his nervous mind tried to hold on to normalcy. Jimin chuckled a little but nodded, “Yes, that’s fine.” He didn’t care about stains at all and Namjoon could put another shirt on him later if he was passed out, or they could do it when he was awake again. He had other things on his mind right now. Jimin easily followed Namjoon on the bed, not being able to resist to let his hand soothe over the satin sheets that the vampire had chosen. It felt so soft under his skin and Jimin shivered. It was quiet, only the ruffling of the bed sheets audible, when Namjoon pulled the human onto his lap – face to face.

“I love you,” Jimin whispered again, leaning in to kiss him sweetly. A soft brush of lips, a promise to forever be by his side, to trust him through everything. His arms embraced Namjoon’s, holding onto his strong shoulders, while the vampire held the human right to him. Soft kisses were placed along Namjoon’s jaw and Jimin placed another on his nose, his forehead and lips again, before he just leaned into the hug. He could feel how stiff Namjoon was. Every muscle locked up tight and Jimin quietly soothed him, his fingertips drawing little circles on the nape of his neck. Jimin placed one last kiss there. “I’ll be with you again, I promise.”

“Yes, you will.” Namjoon’s voice trembled and he kissed Jimin one last time, quick and sweet. “You don’t have to hold on. When you feel like you’re being pulled under don’t fight against it even though your instinct will tell you to. Just let go. It will be fine.” The vampire took a deep breath - and then he sunk his fangs right into Jimin’s carotid artery. He bit deep, trying not to unnecessarily prolong it. Jimin wouldn’t feel much pain, maybe a little discomfort but he didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, so he wanted to do it quick. He felt on edge but when Jimin’s sweet blood flooded his mouth and he drank the first few gulps he couldn’t help but moan. He had never taken so much from Jimin before and drinking from him like that gave him a rush of endorphins and adrenaline that made him feel light headed and absolutely amazing.

Jimin had gasped when the teeth sunk in and at first, it felt like it always did. Good, delightful and so pleasurable and only when his body realized that the vampire was taking way more than he should it was starting to tremble a little. But Jimin tried to stay calm, his eyes looking out at the beautiful moon that was shining inside their room and he smiled faintly. Soothing over Namjoon’s back, he tried to ensure the vampire that he wasn’t hurting, that it was okay, that only his body was fighting on instincts but Jimin trusted him. He could feel his eyes fall shut numerous times, his voice a mumble.

“‘love ‘ou.”

Jimin could feel his body weaken with each suck of his blood.

It happened surprisingly fast, one second Jimin was telling him he loved him with soft words, just a little bit slur and then he was practically collapsing in Namjoon’s hold. The vampire held onto him, interrupting his feeding to place Jimin down gentle. The younger’s eyelashes fluttered against his pale skin, but he was too weak to open his eyes properly. Namjoon on the other hand felt painfully alive, with all this blood running through his system, warm and sweet and perfect. Jimin’s blood. He was glad that he hadn’t let it go to waste and that Jimin had agreed on dying like this; with Namjoon able to cherish every single drop of his blood.

He leaned over him, ready to bite into his neck again because he didn’t want to prolong this for Jimin’s sake when the other’s breath stuttered. Namjoon hesitated, a bittersweet sadness washing over him when he realized that this might be Jimin’s last breaths. So, he kissed him, kissed the breath right from his lungs to taste his vulnerability, his humanity on his tongue for one last time. Jimin's eyes widened one last time. The last image on his mind was Namjoon. It was always him. So, Jimin wasn't afraid when the darkness slowly pulled him under. He let go, trusting in the vampire to catch him. When Namjoon broke the kiss Jimin’s breath was gone.

He still had an aversion to dirtying Jimin’s soft lips with his blood but if he didn’t give the other some of it soon then it would be too late. Taehyung had been in a worse state but it always came to a person’s spirit in the end and he wasn’t sure if Jimin would hold on to staying a life as desperately as Taehyung so he was better safe than sorry. He had brought a little blade to open up his wrist as he didn’t want to bite it and spoil the taste of Jimin’s blood with his own. As much as he had feed it took just a tiny little cut before his blood kept dripping from his wrist. He opened Jimin’s lips with his tongue, then pressed his wrist against the others mouth and filled it with blood until it began dribbling down the corner of Jimin’s mouth. The younger couldn’t even swallow anymore so Namjoon started massaging his throat, kissing his neck, trying to make it seem more gentle, more personal. In the end it was pretty simple, human blood was supposed to go out, vampire blood would get in. But he refused to see it like that. There was a life that got turned around in between. Jimin closed his eyes as a human - and would hopefully open them as a vampire again soon. He just needed to keep going for a tiny little while longer. He hovered over him, gently nipping his neck before biting into it again, adamant on taking the last bit of Jimin’s sweet, sweet blood as well before it would be lost forever. He would know when to stop, either when the blood started tasting dead or when Jimin would start smelling like vampire or starting to show signs of awakening again.

Jimin’s body was pliant under Namjoon’s touch. His eyes closed, mind far gone and blank. He didn’t feel much when the darkness had pulled him under. He was gone for what felt like an eternity and at the same time it felt so quick until his body reacted for the first time to the vampire’s blood in his system. The sound that escaped him, sounded like he was choking, his lungs constricting trying to fight the poison in his system that was taking over and trying to take his first breath as a vampire.

Namjoon had barely stopped drinking before Jimin’s body reacted. There were little tremors running through it, so small that at first the vampire thought he was imagining it. The few seconds while he was unsure if Jimin really was reacting felt like a little eternity because his mind filled them with the kind of “what if’s” he had been trying to push down: What if Jimin wouldn’t wake up, what if he was different, what if he wouldn’t want him anymore , what if…

A horribly pained sound interrupted his spiraling thoughts and he was over Jimin in a second. “Jimin?! Minnie, can you hear me?” The younger’s eyelids fluttered but he still seemed to be under. His body started convulsing and Namjoon tried to hold him, not too tightly so he wouldn’t hurt him but tight enough that Jimin couldn’t hurt himself. The first few breaths sounded like Jimin was drowning and then his chest expended like it should be. He was still wheezing, his breaths irregular and too short so Namjoon talked to him, tried to give him a rhythm he could follow but even though Jimin’s body had started functioning again his mind wasn't there yet.

“Jimin? Can you hear me? Please, if you can hear me, if you remember who I am can you please give me a sign?” He held Jimin’s hand, squeezing it lightly and hoping that Jimin would squeeze back but he was too restless, too fidgety. His muscles were twitching under his skin, a knee jerking up when his consciousness tried to rewire his reflexes, checking if everything still worked as it should be. “Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine.” When he pushed back Jimin’s hair he could feel that the younger was sweating heavily. It was taking a toll on his body and he ached for the moment in which Jimin would be conscious enough to feel it.

Jimin’s body was going through the transformation, shaking him hard and if it wasn’t for Namjoon’s hold he probably would have fallen off the bed already. He was barely conscious, his mind slowly slipping back into reality. Only bits and pieces of Namjoon’s voice came through but it only made him shook himself more. His mind tried to put the puzzle pieces back together, his body stiffening as his back arched off the bed. It was then, when a low growl escaped his lungs and Jimin’s body fell back again. His head fell aside, his muscles lax under Namjoon’s hold. Everything was completely still.

There was nothing. No movement. No heartbeat.

“.J..Jimin?” Namjoon tried to stay calm, there was no need to overreact. Jimin would be fine. He would just open his eyes now. “Jimin?!” He shook the younger by the shoulder. In Taehyung’s case the newborn had been panting and screaming in pain. This was different. This was completely horribly different. “J…Jimin, can you hear me? Jimin… oh god, please Jimin...” He was repeating the younger’s name over and over as if he could will his love awake if only he said it often enough.

Jimin wasn’t sure what had happened. His mind blank as his body had giving up on fighting against the changes. But being somewhere deep in his mind, Namjoon’s voice pulled him in again. He wanted to follow it. Anywhere where Namjoon was, was where Jimin wanted to be. Where he was meant to be.

Jimin snapped his eyes open in one second, when a painful scream escaped his lungs soon after. He was panting heavily, eyes searching everywhere, while his tight grip on the satin sheet made it tear apart. Throwing his head back in pain, Jimin could feel every little change in his body, forming into a new person. A newborn vampire.

“There you are…” Relief was crashing through him like a wave when Jimin’s eyes snapped open. He was conscious, that was most important. Everything else could be figured out as long as his soul wasn’t caught between live and death forever. “Breathe Minnie. I know it hurts but I promise it’ll get better, just hold on. Don’t fight it, let it be. It’s going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine. You’re with me again.” He hugged Jimin close whose body was still shuddering and shaking as if there was electricity in his veins. “You’re alive. Don’t worry, you’re alive again.”

Jimin hissed in pain, when his teeth came out for the first time. His mind was in complete overdrive. There were too many colors, too many smells, too much noise. When Namjoon was so close to him, Jimin’s senses were completely overstimulated. He could hear blood pumping through the vampires veins, blood – that smelled so good (which was his own, human one, but he couldn’t decipher that). In his fear and overstimulation, Jimin bared his teeth, biting into the vampire’s skin on instinct.

“Ouch!” Namjoon cried out in pain but broke into laughter right after. He definitely hadn’t expected that. But it showed that Jimin’s instincts where there and his fangs worked just fine. “No, that’s not.. just no!” He pulled Jimin off his neck who was snapping at him like a hungry wolf. “It’s Namjoon, you recognize me? You’re vampire boyfriend? You can't bite me you’ll get sick if you try to drink from me. Here, take this.” He gave Jimin a bag of blood which was still a little lukewarm because Jin had reheated it for them. “It’s not the best but it will curb your appetite for a little while.” He chuckled at the way Jimin went for it. “You’re really hungry, hu? Don’t worry, you’ll learn to control it. Till then I can call you my little greedy-guts!”

Jimin’s eyes were solely focused on his maker, sipping on the delicious blood (he didn’t know what real, fresh and warm human blood tasted like, yet so he had nothing to compare it to) while listening to the other vampire. He was still shaking, his body still adjusting to the changes – but his eyes kept on Namjoon, sucking on the blood with hungry little growls.

“Gr-greedy guts?” Jimin cocked his head aside, looking at his maker thoroughly. His mind hadn’t put all the missing pieces together and there was always the risk of losing some memories while being turned but it had become clearer since he fed. Hearing another two heartbeats close by, Jimin snapped his head around, getting up on his knees. The last bit of blood from the bag was dripping onto the bed, while his eyes were gazing around the room until it was on Namjoon again. His heart skipped a beat and a warm feeling spread in the pit of his stomach and Jimin slowly reached out for his maker’s face.

“Y-you made me?” He asked quietly, his thumb caressing over Namjoon’s cheeks softly, cupping his face while he furrowed his brows in confusion. Then he let his hand wander down the vampire’s neck. Wanting to take a closer look at what he did, Jimin snapped forward with a little too much force making Namjoon fall back and under him, while the newborn examined the small bitemark he had left that was healing itself already (fueled by the blood of Jimin). “Ye...yeah, I made you.” Namjoon gasped when his back hit the bed. He let Jimin examine him, letting him explore whatever he wanted, hoping that Jimin would find back to himself soon. Though even if some of it got lost he would make sure to help him piece everything back together. He knew about Jimin’s life, his parents, his hopes and dreams… he would share everything with him and make him fall in love with him again if he needed to.

Jimin was not moving an inch away from his lap as he explored the other a little more with his hands. But each time, he looked at the other’s eyes, his heart ached. It skipped a beat. There it was again. Jimin was confused at the feeling and the constant noises around were not helping him to concentrate. “I feel something…,” Jimin looked at his maker and then down to his hand as it wandered down to where Namjoon’s heart was, settling there and placing his palm onto his chest. “Well I hope you do. Otherwise you’d be dead,” Namjoon joked his nervousness away while Jimin was feeling him up, pure curiosity in his eyes. “Just please - don’t bite me again, okay? It hurts and it won’t get you what you want.” He licked his lips, realizing that he was in a very uncomfortable position in case Jimin tried something again. “Do you mind if I sit up, Minnie? You can still explore me if you want to though.”

Jimin didn’t care as long as he could stay close to the one who made him. Something pulled him towards him, and he wanted to know what it was. He leaned a little closer, nosing along Namjoon’s jaw to take in his scent. “Minnie,” Jimin repeated mindlessly and in a whispery tone to himself as it sparked some memories inside of him that he couldn’t put together, yet. Later, Jimin would be very thankful that Namjoon had made sure there wasn’t too much happening inside of the mansion while he was turning so he could try and concentrate on what was in front of him.

“You’re a very handsome maker,” The young vampire giggled, as he held his palm against Namjoon’s, trying to see how they fit together. Jimin was like a child, exploring the world and how his senses worked completely anew. A shiver went down his spine, whenever there was something new. A new feel, smell or sound he couldn’t decipher, yet. And only when Namjoon talked, he snapped back into the ‘now’. There was something about the vampire in front of him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, yet. Closing his eyes, Jimin just did what his body told him to do – so, he hugged Namjoon. Leaning his head on Namjoon’s shoulder, he drew little patterns into the nape of the vampire’s neck. Just like he always used to.

Namjoon sighed contently when Jimin hugged him. Even if what Jimin was doing was just affection for him because he ‘made’ him it was still better than being ignored or feared. Jimin liked him. And although of course he would have preferred for Jimin to be like he had been before there was still time for his memories to come back. Slowly as to not scare him off Namjoon hugged him back. “I’m glad you’re here, Jimin. I’m so glad you made it.” He gave him a quick little kiss on the cheek before closing his eyes and simply enjoying their closeness.

Jimin had gasped quietly when Namjoon kissed him on the cheek, he could feel his heart doing the thing again. Very slowly, he leaned back to look at Namjoon more closely, when it suddenly hit him. It was like a lightning stroke when it all came back to him. Everything. The fear, pain and the eternal love they shared, which was overpowering everything else. A sudden painful sob broke through him and the tears shot in his eyes. “I always loved it when you called me Minnie,” The newborn vampire leaned in fast, kissing Namjoon heatedly, not caring about his new teeth that could maybe hurt someone in the process. He just wanted to kiss and feel.

Namjoon’s eyes widened but before he could ask Jimin if he remembered he had his arm full of newborn vampire again and his mouth occupied with Jimin’s. His decision to not kiss or touch Jimin until he was absolutely sure that he remembered them being in a relationship went out the window with the way Jimin was practically devouring him. If anyone was ‘weaker part’ in this it was Namjoon and not Jimin as he could barely keep his balance.

“I missed you, god, I missed you so much,” Jimin mumbled against Namjoon’s lips, talking as if he hadn’t seen his boyfriend in months when it only been a night or maybe a few hours. He pulled off him, his hands cupping Namjoon’s cheeks. A bright smile appeared on his face, showing off his new fangs. “Ha!” Jimin placed one sweet kiss on Namjoon’s lips again before he jumped up so fast that it made him stumble into the table. It didn’t hurt much though and Jimin quickly proceeded to look at himself in the mirror. He let his fingers trail over his pale skin, then looked at his teeth. Jimin nodded in affirmation, his eyes flickering around the room in a second again. He was like a puppy, the need to explore growing immensely whenever he smelled something new or heard something coming from somewhere. He had figured that the other two heartbeats were Tae’s and Yoongis.

“Missed me, hm? So much that you would bite my neck as if I was your food!” He pouted while there was pure, unadulterated joy in his heart. Seeing Jimin like this, so happy, so alive made his worries turn into dust. Jimin would handle this. They would be fine. Jimin wouldn’t have to worry about being in the mansion and he wouldn’t have to fear the rogues (who were practically nonexistent at this point; Hoseok was making sure the last few of them were hunted down and brought to the mansion) he was safer than he had ever been before.

Jimin nodded hastily, “You looked pretty damn delicious to me though.” He licked over his lips slowly, feeling the hunger deep in the pit of his stomach. He for sure needed to feed on more than one blood bag. Jimin was just about to ask Namjoon for more, when a smell reached his nostrils. One that he hadn’t had the pleasure of smelling, yet.

Fresh Blood.

Jimin’s eyes turned dark red, a hungry growl leaving his lungs as he jumped forward only to be held back by the older vampire. He howled loudly, pressing his hands onto his ears only seconds after when the heartbeat came closer, mixing with a painful high-pitched sound that he didn’t recognize, screaming at Namjoon to make it stop.

The howl was what made the young human look up at the sky at first then at the west wing of the mansion. “Probably some wolves in the forest,” The boy mumbled to himself, as he opened up the gate. An empty milk churn in his hand, the raven-haired boy whistled a tune to himself, walking up to the mansion.

Namjoon had been too concentrated on Jimin to notice that there was a human approaching. Hoseok had made sure to clear out their wing so that no humans were around and Jimin would have it easier to suppress his urge to attack one - so where the hell did this one come from? He’s had his hands full with keeping Jimin back who was lurching forward as if he wanted nothing more than walking through that door and getting to whoever was close to their doors. Namjoon furrowed his brows when he heard that the human was whistling a happy tune - as if he had no idea what was lurking behind these walls. He only hoped that Yoongi and Taehyung would notice and take care of it before Jimin would overpower him not with strength or stamina, but poor hunger fueled will.

The boy outside happily knocked on the door twice, waiting patiently for the owners to open the door. He turned a little, gazing around at the beautiful garden and he wondered if the owners must be rich or some heirs. Or maybe they were just some old people that had this mansion for years now. He smiled to himself. Either way, he wanted to leave a good first impression to his new neighbors. So, when the door opened a little, he didn’t waste any time to introduce himself to the wary looking person that was staring right back at him.

“I am sorry to bother you, Sir. I am Jeon Jungkook, your new neighbor,” The young man introduced himself and pointed somewhere behind himself. “Well, technically “new neighbor”. It’s been quite the walk up this hill.” He chuckled to lighten the mood and when the person opened the door a little more, it got stuck in his throat. Biting his lip, Jungkook couldn’t help but blush furiously (which made Jimin go crazy, hearing his heartbeat quickening and the blood rush through the humans veins) when he saw the handsome man in front of him.

“New neighbor?” Taehyung cocked his head a little scanning Jungkook’s face, then his body, then the empty can of milk the other was carrying. “Oh! You mean you moved here? And now you came to introduce yourself to your new... neighbours?” The vampire couldn’t help but broke into laughter. “Well aren’t you a cute one! I’m sure we’re going to like each other! Don’t you want to come in for... for tea or something?”

Jungkook couldn’t help but smile when the other called him cute. Nonetheless his arm shot up in a second to show of the can, “I…I mean yes, I wanted to introduce myself but also… I am kind of out of milk. And you see…” While he was talking, Taehyung urged him to follow him inside, leaving the door open as he turned around. Jungkook simply did it. Not even the slightest hint of fear in his mind.

“…I love banana milk and I wanted to make some myself and so…that’s why I am here,” He finished his little story, looking at the other with big eyes. “You didn’t tell me your name, yet?” Jungkook stretched out his hand for him to take, scrunching up his nose cutely.

“Oh, sure, banana milk, yeah… I’d go crazy if I couldn’t make that.” Taehyung could barely contain his grin. He took Jungkook’s hand and leaned down for a hand kiss. Instead of kissing the back of Jungkook’s hand he turned his wrist a little, placing his kiss right on the younger’s pulse point where the blood was so deliciously close to his skin. “Come one, cutie, let’s see if we got milk in the fridge...”

Taehyung could barely make a few steps before Yoongi was blocking his way though. “What the hell are you doing there, Taehyung?” His eyes scanned over Jungkook, “And what the fuck does this hum ...boy want here? You know that Jimin just woke up, this is not the time to let someone inside the house!”

Taehyung looked at the older with big pleading eyes, “But he smells so good! Can’t we just let him in, just for a little while? He’s looking for milk! Don’t you think we should get him milk? Maybe get us something to drink as well? Let me have a sip, please!” Yoongi's brows furrowed. “Milk? He’s looking for milk?” He warily eyed the can and then Jungkook’s face again who was smiling and looking somewhere between intimidated, confused and shy.

Taehyung was still holding onto his hand and Jungkook couldn’t help but let his eyes flicker down where the handsome man was holding on to his wrist. “Yeah, let him have a sip,” Jungkook pursed his lips into a pout, “Who could resist some banana milk?” Jungkook immediately felt a little taken back, when Yoongi’s gaze was piercing through him again, so he leaned in to Taehyung a little, lowering his voice. “Is he always this grumpy?”

Yoongi groaned, palming his face. There he was, trying to protect a human and the little shit seemed adamant on getting himself bitten. “You know what? I think we’ve run out of milk ourselves. But we could restock, and you could come over in a few days. Then we will have bananas and milk and snacks and then we can have a ‘welcome in the neighborhood’ party. How about that?” He turned towards Taehyung and added, “Till then Jimin either is sated and under control - or he can stay in the west wing for one night so that you can have your little sip of ‘milk’ in peace. Deal?”

Taehyung nodded enthusiastically, letting go of Jungkook’s wrist, though not before he squeezed his hand a little. “Promise you’ll come back? Then I’ll promise it will be just a sip, just a little taste. We could be friends, you and I, just like me and Jimin before...tonight. And with a little practice I’m sure Jimin wants to be your friend too! You’ll see, we’re all a big happy family here. You’ll fit right in.” With that he opened the door for Jungkook and let him out, waving after him, leaving the younger confused, “It was so nice to meet you! See you soon, Jungkook!”

Inside Taehyung chuckled heartily ignoring Yoongi’s frown. “Oh, come on, wasn’t he cute? Tell me you didn’t think he was cute!” Yoongi only huffed. “See? Please, can he be our human friend? We don’t have a human friend now that Jiminnie’s one of us. Maybe he even likes being bitten and then we won’t have to hypnotize him and Namjoon doesn’t have to turn back to blood bags and Jiminnie might prefer him too over bags or puppets.”

Yoongi scratched his neck in thought. “We’ll see about it. Let’s just check up on Jimin for now and think about our neighbor sometime else.” Taehyung nodded and hurriedly ran after Yoongi who was walking back to Jimin’s room to help Namjoon out. “Yes, we can talk about it tomorrow. I’m sure the others will be really happy that we fixed the blood problem by chance.” He smiled happily and then opened the door to Jimin’s room.

“I bet Jungkookie tastes as sweet as milk.” His grinned turned even wider, showing off his sharp fangs, “Banana milk.”

A/N: This is it. The end. I hope you all guys loved the story just as much as we loved writing it. Leave us your thoughts down below in the comments or send us a message! We love you guys! And of course we are already working on new stuff! ❤❤❤ We’ll keep you updated! Oh and if you guys want we can upload a character sheet soon again for you to get even more infos on the characters and their background stories :) Tell us what you think! We did it before with ‘Solanacea’ and have one for this story as well. We only need to edit and then upload it! Whup! ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤ ❤

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everlarkficexchange · 6 years ago

Text

Four Steps to Being Single

Written by: @wingletblackbird

Betaed by: @butrfac14

Prompt 24: Canon Divergence. Through the years Katniss can’t stop paying attention to Peeta and she’s actually aware of it. When they settle as victors in district 12 or when the time for the victory tour comes (whichever you prefer) she can’t keep herself away from him and the line between friendship and something more becomes blurry until it disappears. [submitted by anonymous]

Rating: General

Four Steps to Being Single

Step 1: Go For the Impossible

I couldn’t say when it started, noticing Peeta Mellark. Well, I mean, I know when I first noticed him, as in learned his name. It was after he gave me the bread and risked a beating from his mother to do it.

“Who’s that boy?” I’d asked Madge casually one day. Although I’m not certain I succeeded at casual, since it is not in my nature to inquire about strangers, let alone ones from Town. I tried to cover by saying that I thought my father used to trade with his family.

“Peeta Mellark,” Madge told me. “He’s my cousin’s best friend. He’s quite nice.”

And so he was.

I waited for the other shoe to fall, but it never did. He never in word, gesture, or deed made me feel small. Never, to my knowledge, boasted, bragged about, or mocked my situation to his friends. Never cornered me and asked for favours in return. That was why I first watched him. He sometimes watched me too, and I figured that must’ve been because he was checking up on me, the starving girl he saved. It wounded my pride a bit, and I clung to the resentment like a shield, watching to see if there were anyway to repay him. There really wasn’t, not in scope. Approaching him would probably make things worse if it got back to his mother anyway.

So I watched him then not because I feared his price, but because nothing should hurt this kind boy. I watched him to see what the smallest acts of courage and kindness could wrought. My life saved, my family saved, and through my mother and sisters’ healing hands, who knows how many lives touched? All because of Peeta Mellark. No, I could never repay him. Even now, he gives me hope. When all I see is cruelty, and death, and hard-heartedness, there existed that one person who not only was kind, but resiliently so, even in the face of personal cost. Yes, I watched Peeta Mellark, but when did it go from hope, and gratitude, and fear to….attraction?

I don’t know.

I watched him hanging around with his friends and was glad he had them. Marvelled at his talent as an actor at school plays. Seethed when he was teased for his gifts, for his height. Watched as he excelled in wrestling after his growth spurt. The broadening of his shoulders, and the development of his muscle mass gave me comfort in the fact that he was more able to protect himself now.

I watched him become so popular, you’d never guess he’d ever noticed a girl like me. But he never stopped being gentle or nice. I knew his schedule, observed in gym class that he always double-knotted his shoes, remembered his shifts at the bakery. I was just keeping tabs on him like I should given the debt owed. Right?

And if I ever got upset when girls talked about him, it was only because they were vain, self-centered, and shallow. Peeta Mellark was owed more than that. That’s all. I was like his little protector, because I owed him. No other reason. I really never thought otherwise, never gave much thought to it at all. I can never peg when it started, only the moment of realisation.

It was so simple.

It was a cold winter’s day; I had come a bit too early to trade at the bakery, so Mr. Mellark had invited me to wait inside for a bit, and taken my coat before giving me my bread. Peeta was on the early rotation that morning, and he’d been the one to package it. He’d been the one to escort me out, and he’d been the one who had courteously and gallantly gotten my father’s coat. He hadn’t just helped me slip it on either. (And I was intimately aware of every movement as his arms went around me, and his fingers brushed my shoulder, just so.) Oh, no. That’s not good enough for Peeta Mellark. Peeta took the time to help me button it up, then to roll up the cuffs on the sleeves that were far too long for my bony arms.

“It’s fine. I can do it myself.” I’d bit out, never liking to feel vulnerable, being the center of attention, and Peeta made me feel that way, which is why in spite of myself my tone came out harsher then I’d have liked, especially given who I was talking to.

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.” He’d smiled at me, and it was shy, hesitant, gentle, hopeful, sincere and so blue. My body thrummed like I’d unwittingly placed my hand on the electrified fence. I opened my mouth to make a quick retort about personal space, but my mouth felt dry. I couldn’t focus it, so I bolted out like a crazy person. I was never looking him in the eye again, but I couldn’t shake the feeling. Now that I was aware of it, I was aware of it.

Still, I reasoned, all told, if I must endure this feeling, like all creatures of the wild. Better instead to pine for the boy I can never have, because that way there’s no need for awkward refusals and explanations. No chance of having to deal with it all. I am never getting married, or having kids. As for Peeta Mellark, the popular, golden boy, wrestling champion noticing me? He may as well fall in love with the mud on his boots. Really, I was absolutely safe.

Step 2: Enforce Boundaries

“It was all for the Games,” Peeta says. “How you acted.”

“Not all of it,” I say, tightly holding onto my flowers.

“Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what’s going to be left when we get home?”

I look up, but I don’t really know what to say. The depth of feeling I felt when he almost died, every time he almost died, when they separated us, it’s so deep I’m not sure I can see the bottom. It’s like being afraid of heights. I never dreamed he might feel for me what I did for him. Or rather, I dreamed it upon a rare occasion, but never presumed it would ever, ever be reality. Who could have seen this coming? And was it real? My caring for him might have been, but most every way I acted was for the cameras, and now that they’re gone…

I can’t have kids. I can’t go through that. How much is going to be left when we go home? I don’t know. He can never be more than my friend. He’d move on though. Probably. There are loads of women who’d want Peeta Mellark, victor, many more than would have wanted him before. I would just get in the way.

I look down at the flowers in my hand. The wild onions which remind me of my life before the Reaping, of Gale. He’d hate me being with any Townie. He barely tolerates Madge, and while I’m not inclined to let Gale dictate my friendships, I’m not in the mood to deal with the fallout either. I wish things would go back to the way they were before, simpler, without the blood of children on my hands, before Peeta and I had ever shared a conversation, when it was safer. And maybe that would be better for him too, a clean break. I don’t know how to say this the right way without crushing him. I’m not good with words at the best of times. Peeta is fidgeting and huffing and clearly expecting an answer.

“I don’t know. I–we’ll be neighbours. We’ll see each other. I don’t–”

“It’s fine.” He cuts in abruptly raising his palm towards me in a gesture to stop. “It’s fine. I should’ve seen this coming. It’s fine. I’ll just…stay away. Won’t mess things up for you.”

“Peeta, wait!” I call out, but he’s marching off to the train, his shoulders are so tense they remind me of rocks. I drop the flowers to the ground and collapse. Mid-sob I realise I don’t want to be caught crying out here, so I head straight to my room and lock it where I lie on the bed. I cry until I sleep. You’re not supposed to feel loss for people who are alive.

Peeta and I don’t talk again for weeks.

I miss him. I try to go through the motions of being who I used to be. The girl who hunts in the woods with her friend, Gale. It doesn’t work though, because that Katniss doesn’t know what it feels like to be in the games, to be the prey, to be on the receiving end of Peeta Mellark’s affection. Even when I’m not having nightmares, I dream of him. I hunt. I come home. I see his house, and I worry. I yearn, and it scares me so much I rush back inside and try not to think about it.

As time goes by, I know this isn’t feasible. There’s the Victory Tour, and mentoring, and Peeta and I will always be neighbours. His words, I’ll stay away, echo through my ears, and I know I have to find the courage to talk to him, because I don’t want that. I never wanted that. I hadn’t told him that. We’re going to have to work together anyway, get along. So I storm across to his front door, and in my determination knock far more harshly than I likely should. I’m scared I’ll lose my nerve.

“Katniss?” I have clearly woken him up. He’s been sleeping even though it’s almost noon.

“Did I wake you?” It’s a stupid question given he’s bleary-eyed, and his hair is sticking up every angle, and his shirt is all rumpled, but it’s supposed to be polite, isn’t it? And I’m no good at this stuff.

“Um, yeah.” His voice sounds hoarse from sleep and he blinks a few times to orient himself. “Why don’t you come in?”

I nod, and brace myself to enter, preparing for what, I’m not even sure. His house is much like ours, but his colour scheme is different. It’s clear he hasn’t done much with the place. Hasn’t tried to personalise it. He lives here, but it doesn’t look like he considers it home.

“Is there anything, you’d like to drink? Eat?”

“No, it’s fine. I just wanted to talk.”

He sighs, and looks resigned to misery. Frankly I feel a touch annoyed at his melodrama, but I follow him into the living room and sit on the sofa across from him.

There is an awkward silence. If I ever had a biography written about me, it ought to be called just that. Unless I’m in the woods. Silence is a language in the woods, and I’m a native speaker. Peeta isn’t making it easy either. He’s leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, watching me intently. I feel pinned. Clearly I am required to start this conversation.

“I don’t want you to think I want you to stay away from me.” He looks nonplussed. So I clarify, as I grip and ungrip my hands in lieu of biting my nails. I am stiff as a board on this stupid sofa. “You said that at the train stop, that you’d stay away. I don’t want that.”

“You don’t?” He asks tentatively and his head rises just slightly. I can see hope glow in his eyes, but it’s so fragile a baby’s breath could puff it out.

“No. I mean, we have to work together, and I–”

He huffs, interrupting me, and leans back against the sofa, shaking his head. He looks put out.

“Look, Katniss, if this is about the Tour, or the Games, or the cameras. I won’t let you down, but I’m not…just…” He waves his hands erratically in frustration. “Don’t lie. Don’t say you want me around when you don’t.”

“I’m not!” I shout. I am incensed he would think that of me, and I’ve had more than enough of his self-pity. “I never said that. Why would you think that? Look, I’m not getting married, okay? I’m not having kids. It’s nothing to do with you.” I cross my arms and my legs petulantly. I am mad. He should know it. Idiot. “I decided that years ago, so you can stop acting like a kicked puppy, because it’s really getting annoying.” My tirade slows as I see poor, Peeta’s jaw hanging open. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you, but I can only be your neighbour, okay? I’m pretty sure that’s what I said in the first place. It’s nothing personal.”

Peeta nods slowly, like he’s absorbing it all. Finally, he apologises.

“I’m sorry. I…I just thought you were doing what you had to do, and I’m grateful you were looking out for me too, but I didn’t think that meant you wanted to be around me. Why would you? And I thought Gale might be upset. And–”

“He is. He doesn’t like people from Town, but it’s not like that anyway. I told you. No marriage. No kids. Gale knows how I feel.” I shrug. “Now you do too.” I look away, because I can’t make eye contact with him, and I don’t know what to say. I almost feel like I’m lying. Fortunately, Peeta has never been troubled by such things.

“Well,” he says wryly after he collects his thoughts, “what’s your favourite colour?”

We grin.

Step 3: Maintain Boundaries

Having Peeta’s friendship makes things easier, so much easier. I don’t have to hide from him, or explain things. Mom and Prim understand the flashbacks, and the nightmares, but I don’t want to talk to them. Prim is so young, and with Mom…it’s just hard. I don’t want to add to her burdens. Gale would rather pretend nothing happened, yet somehow still seethes. Peeta though, he was there. He knows me. He goes through it with me. When I jump at loud noises, he quips a one-liner with an empathetic look in his eyes. I am still Katniss, just extra jumpy. He has an entirely different approach to handling nightmares though. He paints. I don’t know how he can stand it. I try to avoid that part of my life entirely the way you jerk your hand off of a hot oven. Peeta feels he has to remember it though.

“It helps to realise that it’s just a nightmare,” he explains. “When I paint it. I have control over it, distance.”

“But you still have nightmares.”

“Yes, but it happened. I don’t know if I want to forget what happened there.” He glances at me out of the corner of his eye as we examine his work. “Should Rue be forgotten?”

Tears fill my eyes, and I want to glare at him, but I can’t. I let him wrap his arms around me, and I press my face against his warm, strong chest, and the tears flow. I do nothing to stop his affection. He rests his cheek against the top of my head.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I just want to find some meaning in it.

“There isn’t. One man’s power trip. Capitol cruelty.” It’s risky saying it, but I don’t care.

“I know, but…I survived, and I can’t get past that I am alive, because so many aren’t. Good people. Children like Rue. I need to…acknowledge that. Live somehow in a way that doesn’t dishonour that.” He’s choking up now too, and I hug him tighter. We stay like that for a very long time, until our arms hurt, and it’s hard to stand. Then we sit, and stay wrapped up for even longer. I feel safe.

It doesn’t entirely stop the nightmares, but sharing with Peeta does decrease their severity and frequency. At least when I wake up, it can be easier. I am up every morning to check on the snare line for Gale, and when I return, I help Peeta with his bread routes. Peeta bakes where I hunt. He takes cat naps while the dough is rising, or the bread is in the oven. True to his desire to make his survival mean something, he delivers the bread to the Community Home, and leaves other loaves in the trash bins in Town where he knows starving Seam children will find him. When he first brought me with him I wanted to lean up and whisper in his ear that I thought he was amazing, that I desired him too. But I don’t. I can’t.

Instead I tell him he has inspired me. It’s true. I decide my so-called talent will be gardening and botany. It’s just a cover so I can plant berry bushes, and fruit trees, and vegetables inside the fence. Maybe, it’s not much, but I know what a difference even two loaves of bread can make between life and death. I think of Rue in the plants, how she wanted me to win. Peeta’s right. This makes me feel like, somewhere, she’s smiling.

That’s the only downside to being with Peeta really. He does something seemingly small, and I almost combust. It’s the yearning, the want to run my fingers through his hair, to hold his hands, to caress his jaw, to sit on his lap, to kiss him until I can’t feel my lips. I never do, and it takes more discipline than I expect, since I know he would welcome my attentions. I guess I am the Girl on Fire. I spend a lot of time gazing at him when I know he isn’t looking. When he’s painting is an excellent time. Peeta gets so focused, still, hinting at entire worlds locked away inside him. His hands are gentle, but precise, as he places each stroke of the brush. I pretend to read in the corner, but more often than not, I just watch him, bask in him, the knowledge he is alive, safe, for now.

Sometimes I fall asleep in that corner, and Peeta will pick me up, carry me to bed, and carefully tuck me in. One time, I groggily grasp his hand and ask him to stay. So he does. He crawls into the bed alongside me and I nuzzle into his chest as he wraps his arms around me and I drift off dreaming of warmth and sunshine.

It starts a pattern. I join Peeta in his morning catnaps, and I like it so much, I take to dragging blankets down and creating a nest in front of the fireplace during mid-afternoon, when everyone, insomniac or otherwise, gets sleepy. Maybe it’s just an excuse, but I’ll make any I can to spend more time in Peeta’s arms. Sometimes, more often than not, if I wake before him, I run my fingers through his curls, or down his cheek. I kiss his forehead, and eyes, and nose, and cheeks, and sometimes even his lips. He sleeps like a log so he never notices. I doubt he’d mind though, so I keep doing it, because when affection bubbles up inside me, this is the best way I can think of to handle it. That, and fussing over him, or bringing him meat. I’m not good with words, so I just do stuff and hope people understand. Prim used to tease I was like Buttercup bringing in trophies of dead mice for his loved ones. I resent the comparison, probably because it’s accurate. Peeta and I call each other every night, especially when the nightmares are bad. Often I slip over just to be sure he’s still breathing.

We never have to worry about anyone interrupting us. Sometimes Peeta visits his family in Town. Even more rarely, his father, and occasionally one of his brothers will drop by. They aren’t a close family. Peeta confesses his mother pitched a fit at the idea of living so close to the Everdeens, then said it was too far from the bakery, and didn’t look good, or whatever. The truth is she’s a witch. When Peeta says it’s just as well, they never got on anyway, the woebegone look in his eyes makes me wrap my arms around him, and I do kiss him on the cheek. I rest my head on his shoulder. It’s not right the way they treat him. I don’t understand it. I never even wanted to love anyone, and I couldn’t help myself. Worse still, I feel bad for being so hard on him when he stopped talking to me for awhile, because I can understand now why he leapt to all the wrong conclusions. If your family rejects you, I suppose you come to expect it. It hurts my heart. I want to wrap him up in cotton wool and place him on a really high shelf where nothing will ever wound him again. I feel like a dragoness who hisses and spits at anyone who would dare try to steal her gold hidden deep in a cave, except it is not gold I guard, but my golden boy, the sunshine boy, the boy with the bread. Hiss. My sweet boy. I really am very feral.

“We can be your family.” I whisper into his ear one day as we are lying together, and it is worth every bit of anxiety I feel to see the lazy grin spread across his face.

“I’d like that.”

Mom and Prim are healers at heart. They take Peeta in like he’s a wounded puppy.

It’s ironically the best summer of my life. I don’t worry about food, or warmth, or winter. I go on picnics. I swim in the lake. I teach Peeta to swim, (which is playing with that fire, but I regret nothing.) I stargaze. I curl up like a cat, and stretch when I get up. The only struggle is Gale. I wish it wasn’t so, because he has been my support for years, but I find I have to hide most of my life from him. He resents me living in Victor’s Village, I think. He despises hearing about Peeta. He won’t talk about the mines, which I don’t suppose I can blame him for, but that only leaves the woods and his family to talk about. Since Hazelle keeps me informed about that, it’s really just the woods. It wouldn’t be an issue, the woods have always been ours, except his bitterness spills out over sometimes. His eyes flash, and his jaw tenses. The air feels sharp and dangerous. I can’t abandon him though, and I cannot even fathom how awful it must feel to be so trapped. I garner the impression he feels cheated out of something. I do what I can to lift his spirits, have him enjoy his one day above ground. We find our new routine, But the last Sunday before the train comes he presses a kiss on me.

“I had to do that. Just once.” He says before storming away. I don’t know what to make of it. I stand stupefied for awhile, never having really considered that it could be a future with me he feels so cheated of. It would never have happened anyway. I don’t dare tell him that.

To add insult to injury, I am forced to talk with President Snow.

Step Four: Throw Your Hands up in Despair

“Was that really the only time you kissed Gale?”

My eyes widen that he’s even asking me. “Yes!”

“Sorry, sorry.” He’s quick to reassure me which hurts in so many other ways. “I just…you said he knew how you felt about kids, marriage, so…”

“He was just being an ass.” I reassure him and rub my hand across his shoulders. We are both sitting on his bed after the travesty that was our encounter with District Eleven. I wrap my arms around him from behind and rest my cheek on his shoulder.

“Thanks for standing in front of that Peacekeeper. It was really brave.” I can feel the tension drain out of him, and can practically hear his proud smirk. I swear. Men. But if it makes him feel better I don’t complain. Instead, I turn his head to face me and kiss him softly on the lips.

“To make you even,” I explain with an uncharacteristic wink, and I am gratified to hear Peeta laugh. We go to sleep not long after that. There’s no question that he stays with me.

It really is remarkable how bad I am at convincing anyone that I am in love with Peeta, especially given that it’s true. I suppose it’s the nature of the camera. It can’t show the little things I do. And I’m not prone to grand gestures in front of audiences. I can’t make it look real. I’m supposed to speak my love, but if I did, it would probably come out all wrong with smatterings of “but Dandelions, and Spring, and sunshine, don’t you see?” But that’s for me not them, and I cannot bring myself to part with it. It makes me too vulnerable to share the story about the bread either. It occurs to me Peeta has a courage, a strength I don’t. He told the truth to Caesar in our Tribute interviews, and he turned his vulnerability into a honed weapon. I am a survivor in my own fashion, but I don’t know how to do that.

Kissing Peeta and pretending I don’t want more is a chore too, and only complicates an already sticky matter. Well, when it’s in front of the cameras, I generally don’t want more, but when we sneak off to get caught on them, it’s another matter. It’s hard not to get too into it, and I wonder how in the world I’m supposed to do this for the rest of my life, assuming Snow doesn’t kill us all? How am I supposed to kiss Peeta on camera, and then go home, and keep my hands to myself? Being around Peeta is nothing short of deadly.

So when we come to the Capitol, reasonably sure we’ve failed, I throw it out-

“We could get married.”

Peeta agrees and then leaves as quickly as he can. I make to follow, but Haymitch says I ought to leave him alone. He gives me a stare that proves he thinks I am some kind of surly, heartless creature. Maybe he has a point, because if Peeta wants this to be real…well it’s not like I hate him, but I’ve never clued him in. So I glare back at Haymitch, and I do follow him, because Peeta suffers enough insecurity without him thinking he’s going to marry me and I don’t want him. It’s just that I don’t want to be hurt; I don’t want my kids to hurt.

Peeta surprises me. He goes into the bathroom when I arrive and turns on all the faucets.

“I want to talk to you about something.” He speaks as quietly as he can. I know he must be trying to avoid having our conversation overheard, so I join him as he sits down by the bathtub where the shower is rushing. “I know you said you didn’t want marriage and kids, because of the Reaping…but, I guess that’s unavoidable now. So…I just…” He trails off, and looks uncertain. It’s rare Peeta can’t express himself, so I gather this is something that cuts very deep to his heart. I don’t dare interrupt him. “My parents’ marriage was arranged. Lots of marriages in Town are, and they hate each other. I always swore, I’d rather go to the Seam then live my parent’s life–not that I think you’re like my mother!–” he hastens to clarify when he sees the look on my face, “but a loveless marriage by two people who feel they have to do it, and end up resenting each other, and kids who are born for necessity and not love. And…” He shakes his head. A grimace is etched on his face. “We have to get married. There’s no avoiding that, and if they make us have kids, which they eventually will… then…they don’t have to be mine.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that this doesn’t have to be a real marriage. If it’s forced, it can’t count. Like, if you fall in love with someone else, you can have his kids. I get you never planned on it, but you should at least get a choice in the who. We can pretend they’re mine for the cameras. But…behind the scenes…”

“Peeta, that’s insanity.”

“I’m just saying,” he stresses, raising his voice slightly, and he lifts his hand up and down in emphasis like he’d be slapping a table if we weren’t sitting on cold tile, “it’s a possibility. If you don’t want it to be me then…just say so. You won’t be doing me any favours pretending. I have enough of that in my life. Can you love me, Katniss? Do you?” His voice cracks a little.

“Peeta–” He doesn’t let me get a word in edgewise. He’s lost in his own fears.

“But then there’s the fact that it’s practically a guarantee our kids will get Reaped. Heck,” he laughs bitterly, “maybe more than one. I dunno, Katniss, maybe I should just right the imbalance now.” He looks somberly at me. His blues eyes are as dark as I’ve ever seen them. “There’s only meant to be one victor.”

“No!” I shout and then drop my voice when I remember we’re supposed to be being discreet. “No! Peeta, if I was ever okay with that, I would have let you die in the arena,” I hiss. “How could you even suggest it?” I choke as I feel sobs rise up in my throat. “You don’t even know for sure, they’ll Reap them! And, I mean, it’ll be someone’s kid…and I just…” I’m not even making sense, Peeta’s words have catapulted me down a dark tunnel where little girls are abandoned when their father’s die. I cling to him and shake. Peeta looks guilty, as he wraps me up in his arms.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Then don’t ever, ever suggest that again! Don’t even consider it.” My crying is ugly, and I wipe my nose into his shirt and don’t even care.

“Alright, I won’t, but you know as well as I do, our kids will have an increased risk of being Reaped. It’s basically guaranteed. I can’t just sit idly by while that happens. What if they Reap all our kids? I just…I know we have to try and subdue the districts or Snow will kill us all, but afterwards, I think we need to try something. We’ll have at least twelve years after our first child is born to prepare them, but I’d far rather prefer there be no Games at all. We’ll be coming to the Capitol every year now, maybe we can learn more about their weaknesses, scout out the other victors for sentiment in their districts. I don’t know. I just can’t take this lying down Katniss. I can’t. I won’t be someone who does nothing at all when someone tries to hurt their child. I can’t.”

I pull out of his arms so I can see his face. I run a soothing hand across his forehead where his hair waves; it helps to ground me as well. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him so desperate which is really saying a lot. I can understand why this issue devastates him. It devastates me too, albeit from a different childhood trauma. I curl into him again. Any direction I go scares me, but I’d rather hold onto him in the storm. I can’t hold this from him when he so needs to hear it.

“I agree, but Peeta, it was always you. I decided ages ago I couldn’t marry if only because of the Games, although I’m scared of losing you too. It was always you, okay?”

“What?” He seems so genuinely confused I don’t know whether to slap him or his mother.

“I mean, that I knew who you were when you were Reaped, and I’d been watching you for ages too. I mean, marriage wouldn’t be my first choice, but I do….I do love you.” I twist my head up to see him better. There is dawning comprehension on his face as his eyes widen and his cheeks lift.

“You mean that?”

“Yes, obviously.” I don’t like that he is dragging this out, so I sit up to kiss him.

He gets the picture.

#Springtime Edition 2019 #submission #wingletblackbird #prompt 24

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